Hall of Infinite Doors
Torment, in all its myriad forms, is laid out before you, bathed in fire and painted thick with the moans of the tormented.
You are standing in a wide crack in what must be a natural cavern wall uncountable miles deep inside the earth. In front of you is a wide underground panorama, jagged peaks of naked stone jutting mean against one another, studded in gruesome obsidian shards and decorated with the brutal remains of the poor creatures sentenced here. Molten rivers crisscross the tortured terrain, spilling liquid rock into a massive crevasse hidden somewhere north of you. Dripping white-hot metal limns the opening you stand in lime some deadly saliva, and the land is alive with sudden bursts of potent flame.
And that's not the only thing that crawls and dances across the landscape. There are people - what might have been people at some point - scattered about in various forms of torment, herded by terrible creatures out of some nightmare or barbaric mysticism. Massive, white furry giants lope among naked hordes of humanity, scooping them up into their fanged jaws; people lay splayed out like a canvas, strewn on smoking metal barbs; they lay strapped in sulphurous water, continuously drowning; others, less imaginatively, wail in the rivers of molten rock, burning forever and forever regenerating to burn again. The air hurts to breathe, every intake feeling poisonous and rancid, thick with the stench of human misfortune in every guise available.
A small lip of rock juts out from your opening, allowing a vantage, and you take it, gazing out in mute terror at what can only be Hell. Naked birds waddle through the air, pecking at passersby; spider-things crawl up the walls, leaping and cackling. Below, men stand in rigid lines, as an orchard. Their muscles are tight as wood, but if they falter, any of the dancing insect-people among them lash them with mandible or sting. As you watch, a lean bearded face spots you and opens in an instinctive expression of surprise. Not a moment later a steel-blue barb is protruding from the open mouth, superseded by a grim face clawing it down - and gazing up where you are.
A cry is raised.
Uncountable malevolent eyes turn to you.
Small pebbles tumble from above. Something is lurking on the wall above you, all metal barbs and skinless flesh.
You are standing in a wide crack in what must be a natural cavern wall uncountable miles deep inside the earth. In front of you is a wide underground panorama, jagged peaks of naked stone jutting mean against one another, studded in gruesome obsidian shards and decorated with the brutal remains of the poor creatures sentenced here. Molten rivers crisscross the tortured terrain, spilling liquid rock into a massive crevasse hidden somewhere north of you. Dripping white-hot metal limns the opening you stand in lime some deadly saliva, and the land is alive with sudden bursts of potent flame.
And that's not the only thing that crawls and dances across the landscape. There are people - what might have been people at some point - scattered about in various forms of torment, herded by terrible creatures out of some nightmare or barbaric mysticism. Massive, white furry giants lope among naked hordes of humanity, scooping them up into their fanged jaws; people lay splayed out like a canvas, strewn on smoking metal barbs; they lay strapped in sulphurous water, continuously drowning; others, less imaginatively, wail in the rivers of molten rock, burning forever and forever regenerating to burn again. The air hurts to breathe, every intake feeling poisonous and rancid, thick with the stench of human misfortune in every guise available.
A small lip of rock juts out from your opening, allowing a vantage, and you take it, gazing out in mute terror at what can only be Hell. Naked birds waddle through the air, pecking at passersby; spider-things crawl up the walls, leaping and cackling. Below, men stand in rigid lines, as an orchard. Their muscles are tight as wood, but if they falter, any of the dancing insect-people among them lash them with mandible or sting. As you watch, a lean bearded face spots you and opens in an instinctive expression of surprise. Not a moment later a steel-blue barb is protruding from the open mouth, superseded by a grim face clawing it down - and gazing up where you are.
A cry is raised.
Uncountable malevolent eyes turn to you.
Small pebbles tumble from above. Something is lurking on the wall above you, all metal barbs and skinless flesh.