It was more than a restless night. You could hardly breathe with the dust that curled around our bedrolls. I couldn't help but wonder repeatedly if we had gone in way over our heads. My faith in the Gods was not misplaced, but it seemed I had been loaned out from Dagmar to join the service of Cuthbert. And I felt hardly at ease with the reassignment.

Comets streaked through the air and thudded into the distant ground. Crescendos of moaning and wailing pervaded the atmosphere. It was all you could do to keep your eyes shut and wrap cloth around your sweating face just to keep out the noise, the boiling heat and the ever present ash.

This night, differently from the last, had a certain ease to it. The heat dampened and the noise was stifled even if for a few hours. It was subtle, but the presence of St. Catherine lingered. You could tell with the distant look in Celeste's eye when her presence was near. Although, Celeste had repeatedly said that she was out of communication. Perhaps that took more than just helping us feel at ease in the bowels of hell.

We woke, I was able to pray and find strength in Dagmar again. The way would not be smooth.

"Corman", Caspar coughed with visible dust coming from his lungs. That just couldn't be healthy. "You wouldn't be able to get some water, would you?"

"I can do that. Everyone should gather around with your waterskins and we can fill up for the day." I cast my eyes towards heaven. It seemed a long ways away but as I reached up the divine was also reaching to me. The prayer was granted and the waterskins filled to overflowing.

Calais and Silverhawk were eyeing the path. "We should move quickly," Calais was eyeing the distance, "there is no telling what may have found us. I'd rather face my fate while on my feet."

As if on cue, the White Imp appeared in a cloud of dust and, with a whiny cackle, poked fun at us. The direction we were to go was an unspoken question on everyone's lips. He settled into the middle of our camp and pulled out a map and a large dice. During this little ritual, he rolled it, seemingly counting in his head and pointed the way to go.

Calais probed, "Are you sure?" The White Imp drew to his full 3 feet of height and said with as much weight as he could muster, "Do not question me, mortal. You're weak here!"

Yet again, it seemed a mockery to have such a trivial and inconsequential being lead us through, especially since if we succeeded he would gain power from his master. And that master was also our enemy. It seemed a spiteful thing, to be in league with a power that was just slightly less of a threat to humanity, but all the same, it seemed that the Gods were twisting the strands of fate in more profound ways.

On the horizon was a strange sight, a humongous hammer carried by too few of the damned souls. They grunted and struggled, their knees wobbling with the tremendous weight on their backs. We stared at the sight. Finally Enzo broke the quiet that we were travelling in, "What is that?" The white imp readily piped up, "That is the hammer of the Morning Star."

"The Morning Star, you mean Octavious?" Enzo stated with a matter of fact tone. The White Imp cringed and hissed in a strained voice, "Do not say his name!" Enzo shrugged. "Why does it matter, he already knows we are here, right?"

It did seem a moot point to remain quiet. Within a few moments of our strange speeding travel, we were walking closely to the damned souls. Enzo leaned out and peered at them seeing their list of sins hanging around their neck. He wanted to read it but it was in a language he could not understand. The group moved on. "I've probably done a few of those", Enzo had muttered it under his breath but loud enough that it drew a sharp, steely glance from Celeste. The look could carve Warpstone. If they were to be wed, Enzo had better stay in line because she wasn't going to visit Hell to keep him company.

Hours went by. The party plodded on seeing only poisonous grasses stretch off into the horizon hedging us all in on either side. We were all stuck to this path with no other way to go. Calais heard it first, and Silverhawk just a heartbeat after. There was a rumbling that seemed to be approaching us in all directions. It seemed we could never completely evade the inhabitants of this place. The White Imp cackled and said, "Someone has your attention. You best defend yourselves, mortals!" And with that, he disappeared in a poof of ash.

"Something is approaching us from all directions and quickly!" Calais shouted and the group formed a defensive circle. Caspar and I went to work, praying and casting, establishing protection and offensive ability for the party. The final act for myself was the fill myself with Righteous Might growing in size to help repel the foes at hand.

The ground erupted around us and people started to see tentacles writhing and spilling out of holes in the ground and from with the poisonous grasses. Within moments, they were on us, snatching at us with the tentacles and piercing us with poisonous, boney protrusions.

We were able to avoid most of the damage, but Silverhawk and Calais fared the worst. Celeste and Enzo both destroyed all in their path with blistering swordwork while Caspar pointed at each being and shot magical fury, knocking some back and punching holes in their thick skinned bodies. I swung over the heads of Silverhawk and Calais to beat back the menaces. They kept coming, even with them falling quickly under the combined party's strength. The fight was bloody, but brief. Within moments, all of the carcasses around were glistening with their bodily fluids. Especially pulverized were the ones that surrounded Celeste who continued to show us her strength as a front-line fighter. Both Caspar and Ezno had suffered ill-effects of the poison and it took a moment for them to catch their breath.

Silverhawk was bloodied, but still fared well. Calais only slightly less bloodied, but ready for more. We moved together again to heal from the battle. Calais looked across the horizon, "We should move quickly. A few did get away; we don't want them to bring any friends back." After taking a short water break, we again moved quickly down the straight path that the White Imp pointed.

The distance was vast, and though our travel was unnaturally sped, the hours still were long and tiresome. Time meant little or nothing here, but still we had to travel the distance, living every moment of sulfuric smells and wicked heat. Mixed with the noises of the damned and the constant sound of the ground beneath us churning, the sound of lively instruments were floating on the wind, playing from some unknown source. I had my head down and someone said, "Is that a calliope?" What did that even mean? But it did raise the other's chins looking at a strange manic looking figure with a table and a sign just off of the path that we were all on.

"Find the bauble, catch the coin! Put your coin against mine. Soul coins if you win, none if lose." The chirpy nature of the demons voice was, more than unsettling. Calais glanced quizzically at the being, but Silverhawk spoke first. "What are soul coins?" The White Imp flagged everyone close to him, embarrassed by our apparently boneheaded question. "Soul coins are the coin of this realm. Your coins and trinkets are useless here if you wish to barter or buy." Casper rolled his eyes, "Why does everything have to be damned this, and soul that?"

The White Imp chuckled, "You'll see." He made a motion to poof out, but then thought better of it and looked on as the group approached the games vendor. Calais stepped forward, "We will not lose our souls if we lose the game, is that right?"

"Most assuredly! You offer coin of worth, gold, silver and platinum and I will trade with one coin of ours... soul coins!" The manic chipper was making my teeth rattle. I wanted to be as far away from this place as possible.

Calais offered a coin. The demon placed the bauble on the table and covered it with one of the skulls, then commenced a dizzying frenzy of movement that ended suddenly. Calais' eyes were wide. "That one... I think." The skull came up, and there was no bauble. Red eyes peering from the cloak, "Do you want to try again?" The beady red eyes darted from one member of the party to the next.

I stepped up and pulled a heavy bag of coin from my belt. "500 coins of the human realm. Count them." The cloaked figure stood a little straighter, even though it wasn't entirely visible, I could sense that there was a grin in that darkness that stretched from unnatural ear to unnatural ear. "I choose Silverhawk as my champion." I leaned to Calais' ear, "No offense. I figured you'd want to sit this one out."

Silverhawk stepped to the table, eyes wide and ready. The bauble went on the table, then the skulls covered. Again, there was the dizzying movement. Movement so fast that I swear I could see smoke coming from the cloth. Then the sudden stop. Silverhawk leaned back on her heels, looked up with a wry smile. "That one." She pointed lazily at one of the skulls. The skull came up and the shiny bauble rolled from it.

The smile from the beasty turned to a pained grimace. Silverhawk reached out and the being plopped the coins into her hand in a fat sack. Immediately, the sack erupted with a cacophony of screams, moans and other tormented noises. Silverhawk held firm, even when she seemed to want to drop the bag immediately.

The demon immediately closed up the table, put the skulls into random pockets. "No more games?" Enzo asked. With a glare, the being winked out of existence right in front of the party. "Hmmm, no more games then."

Silverhawk was in the same position as she was before, horrified and more than slightly shocked. "Can ... someone take these?" She gulped slightly, her throat dry with the thought of what she held.

Enzo snatched the bag roughly from her hand causing the bag to wale and moan again. "I'll hold these!" I chuckled to myself, in spite of the horror of what and where we were. You had to laugh a little... there was so much hopelessness about; it was hard to keep everyone's spirits up.

The White Imp stepped forward and clapped, "Now you have soul coins. A considerable amount!" Caspar spoke evenly, "Souls of the damned are stored in coins. That's creative. But why, really? It seems like it might be a lighter punishment than others we've seen." The White Imp shot back his reply, "Lighter? Ha! A soul being pressed, minted and bound to a coin to live like that for eternity is hardly less of a punishment." To add emphasis, he flicked the bag that Enzo was now holding on the side causing a small chorus of moans again.

Calais sighed, eyes ever on the horizon, "I see movement and it looks like it is moving toward us." He shook his head; it had been one thing after the other today. Blood from the previous two days had caked with the ash onto his leather armor. Everyone was a mess and, yet, more was being asked of us. Calais turned suddenly to the White Imp, "You can call them off, right? You can ask Caim to leave us alone." The White Imp chuckled nervously, "Though powerful, Caim has little power here because of the Morning Star. It is your task to get that back."

That being said, we all lowered our profiles against the grass, but we wouldn't be able to move quickly enough to pass them without being noticed. Silverhawk pointed further ahead. "There is a white mist out there; perhaps we can find shelter in the mist?" The White Imp piped up, "Our destination is in that fog. Best you be getting on your way!"

I couldn't help but feel again overwhelmed. By the gods, Dagmar, you had better answer me clearly when I finally emerge from this place. Purpose or not, I am not a plaything to be thrust into various and sundry tasks. Most of which, I had no part of mere months ago!

We ran as fast as we could, I brought up the rear being unable to keep up with the rest of the party. Where was my horse, T'aasson, when I needed him? Calais was watching as what looked like a hunting party spotted us and bent our direction.

Crossing the threshold, we were nearly instantly enveloped in the white mist, you could see within the mist fairly clearly, but it was hard from the outside to look in order to follow us. Silverhawk and Calais took positions near the rear of the group while we ran along the path. Caspar got a twinkle in his eye and laid down a trap that, as he explained it, would throw whatever being walked over it into the air for a while allowing us to make our escape.

The White Imp emphatically pointed, "The House of the Damned! We are at its doorstep!" A shadow of a large building loomed just beyond the mist. As we approached with speed, an impassive guard stood, looking outright bored. He was wielding an incredibly large ax that looked to be able to split one in halves and quarters in a matter of two strokes. "You seek passage. I seek payment." I was still huffing during the exchange. "Do you take," coughing on the ever-present ash that now coated my lungs, "soul coins?"
"Yes, eight to open the door." The being was terse, bored and sounded just short of dangerous. Calais spoke, "Eight soul coins per person?" I nudged him sharply, "Don't give him any ideas!"

"Eight soul coins to open the door, nothing more." The guard boomed. In the mist behind us was the first sound of surprise and shock as the hunting party came upon Caspar's trap. Caspar was grinning so wide it was nearly audible.

Enzo shook out eight of the screaming coins and plunked them into the guard's hand. We piled through the door experiencing a disconcerting shock as we ended up being carried through what seemed like a dimensional portal. It's akin to the feeling that I get when visiting the amulet with Caspar.

After the shock subsided, we were looking down a long corridor toward a statue. Caspar created a wall to enclose the doorway leading into the hallway just to make sure no one followed us. There were windows on the left-side wall that looked out over a lava field. The vapors from outside stung the nose and made me feel unstable. It was best to avoid them. Everyone stayed close to the inner wall, just to be safe.

A woman bent in what seemed to be worship of the statue. The White Imp, our ever present guide of Hell spoke, "Ah, The Mother of all Whores!" Enzo turned quickly toward the Imp, "You have whores here?" He seemed to speak before giving it thought. Suddenly, Celeste was the most dangerous and feared person in the room. "I'm sure they look awful! I can't even imagine that." It was a failed recovery, at best, but Celeste seemed to be getting a thicker skin from Enzo's outbursts.

Calais squinted, looking at the supplicating woman at the end of the hall. "Something is not quite right." He adjusted his magical glasses and said, "She looks normal, but she's ... shimmery?" I couldn't help myself, "Well, if she was shimmery in any other place than Hell, I would say that's probably a good thing."

We started to approach, and the woman exploded into a swarm of large insect-like creatures. I was able to call down thin divine flames on the swarms, but they still came closer. Celeste was first up the passage confronting the first swarm. The rest moved past her to attack the rest of the party. Each person did what they could to fight against the beasts, but they seemed immune to most of our attacks. I was able to focus long enough to send a burst of Divine energy in their midst. In the glory of the moment, they burst and crumbled to ash, leaving the hallway silent again.

Caspar clapped a hand on my shoulder, "Good job!"

I chuckled, feeling a tad embarrassed, "Sometimes I surprise even myself."

Celeste forcible thrust her swords into their scabbards and moved to the foot of the three stairs leading up to this beautiful statue. The rest of us dusted off and moved forward as well. "There are no doors here. I don't see a way out." The White Imp appeared again, he had disappeared unnoticed just when the insect's attacked. "This is the way. But you must find it." Silverhawk, not having said much to the Imp, "Is that because you have no idea where that way is?" He scoffed and turned his thin and boney winged back to her. Calais was looking at the statue, moving around the base but not touching anything. Enzo was looking up the statue with appreciation that was slightly beyond the artistry and more about the subject matter.

Silverhawk stood behind Calais who was studying the statue. She sheepishly moved up behind him and said, "Don't you see...? Here." She brushed past him and put a few fingers in the markings of the statue, then pushed. There was a click and the statue swung easily to reveal a narrow staircase going straight down. Calais raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He seemed to know that Silverhawk did not want to upstage him. Celeste volunteered to go first, followed by Enzo. The rest of us cautiously followed down the near vertical steps. I could imagine slipped and tumbling to take the rest of the party with me. Things like that had happened before, so I remained extra cautious. It was dark, but Caspar touched the crucifix I was holding and spoke quietly. The crucifix then shone with magical light.

The steps descended only a short ways, but ended in a very oddly decorated room. Caspar spoke, "This room looks like it was decorated out of a jester's outfit." And Enzo chimed in, "and it smells like... oh my God!" A few members of the party gagged audibly as they got a chance to see what Enzo had discovered.

A wet, crackling voice spoke, "What? What are you looking at, meatbag." The head that spoke was mounted on the wall. It looked like it had been the subject of a good clubbing, after being severed in a bar-fight and left on counter for a week; or maybe two? It wore a jester's hat, was missing most of its teeth and had streaks of drool dripping from its chin that was nearly translucent from putrefaction.

The White Imp and again pulled out his map and rolled the dice. "Yes, this way." He pointed to the door.

It was a feat that everyone finally sized up the tortured remains and actually conversed with it. Calais spoke first, "We need to get through that door. How do we do it, jester?"

The skull tried to grin, which was more than slightly terrifying, "You know I am a jester! How fortunate the gods and devils are!" Clots of spittle languished on his lips as he spoke.

"But the door, to go through it? No, you mortals do not want it. It will be your destruction! The door is bad. Those that pass this way never come again, you see. It's best you keep your hides by turning them ‘round"

It was such a horrific thing to see, a skull with shifting, sloughing skin yammering away at us all the while spitting and drool showered the floor. The blackened, slightly shriveled eyes darted from face to face while spoke.

Enzo reinforced Calais' position, "Just let us through door."

"Through that door again you say. Very bad. All that go--none comes back. You go? You won't come back. Hear?" He spoke in a broken sort of sing-song tone.

"You can keep me company. This place; it's quite quiet. I can sing you songs?" The jester began to heave out an atrocious melody.

Enzo seemed ready to pound the chatting skull into smithereens. The smell and the enclosed space wasn't helping anyone's mood. Enzo changed his stance and took a different approach, "We could tell you what is on the other side."

"Could you? You could not, you will not return! I will again be alone again... again." The sing-song riddle-speak made matters that much worse.

"But we will return, in fact, if you open it for us right now, I could tell you what is on the other side immediately! You wouldn't have to wait!" Enzo was animated with the tale, and the slimy face seemed to catch his enthusiasm.

"I do! I can! I control the door, who goes in and who comes out." The jester's excitement was apparently by the distance his spittle was being thrown.

Caspar got in on the game, too. "Open it up for us and we'll tell you! What are you waiting for?"

"But wait, for a coin I can let you go. For a coin to scream me to sleep." Enzo quickly went to the bag, and pulled out one moaning coin amidst the tumult that was kept in the bag. He held it up and the jester's eyes gleamed again, "You have one! You have one! Place the dainty in my mouth. Let me savor!"

Not wanting to approach the abomination, Enzo artfully flicked the coin and it landed in the jester's mouth.

"Oh sweet savor!" The jester's tongue lathered around the coin. "Door, may you open. And your promise, meatbag, I do expect you keep!"

The door swung open, letting in a rush of slightly fresher air in. A hallway was lit with torches led and the bodies of the dead lay on the path ahead.

Enzo, keeping his promise, in a way, "Oh! What a glorious place! It is wonderful here! Jester, you should see this!"

The jester squawked, "Pretties be! Come back and take me!" With that, Enzo forced his weight on the door and slammed it shut ceremoniously. He dusted his hands and looked at the rest of us, who were probably looking quite horrified.

It wasn't the bodies of the dead that lay on the path, it was the bodies of the damned. And what evil was within them, I dare not say. As they writhed and twisted in pain, their skins spit open like the maw of a predator. The wounds licked themselves like lips then shut again without any apparent markings left except for traces of blood.

This process happened again and again from naked body to naked body. Men and women piled unceremoniously in the hall like a charnel house for the damned. Blood pooled slightly on the floor, but the greedy mouths that reappeared and disappeared again kept most of it for themselves.

The damned seemed to pay us no mind as they were in their own worlds of suffering. However, it was impossible to pick a path without stepping on some writhing soul. Their screams seemed impossibly similar to those in the bag of soul coins. The suffering, apparently, was near the same. It made no sense to step lightly, we picked out best path, but I doubted that the pain we may have inflicted would have been any worse than the pain they were already experiencing.

We tread through the hall, bewildered and perhaps rightly frightened, just to come to a metal grate that was on the walls and ceiling. It was slightly rusted and notably worn. On the far wall was a metal mask in the form of a face. It hung there, motionless.

The group approached cautiously. All that was beyond the grates in all directions was blackness. It was a foreboding feeling, like walking right into a trap.

As we approached, there was a metal squeak as the metal face started to move. The metal was apparently grafted to a fleshy head, like the jester. You could hear it try to wet its lips as we approached, but it didn't seem to help with its voice.

"Who is the greatest in hell?" The voice rasped.

Caspar, musing to himself, "Caim?" I turned to silence him just as fire erupted through the grates, scorching every square inch of us.

"Caspar! Hold your tongue, man!" I shouted and gripped him by his pretty little robe and dragged him out of the metal area. "Come on everyone, let's get out of here." The only person who was undisturbed by the event was Enzo. He glanced around, brushing off his armor. Earlier that day, I had placed a limited protection from fire on him that had lasted this long. Only now did it become useful, because now he was our key to answering the question.

In the safety with the hall with the writhing damn, we huddled together to make a plan. "I think it is The Morning Star." I said matter-of-factly.

Enzo then said, "The only other name it could be is Octavious."

"Let's try that then. We'll see which one works. If you need any protection, I can help at least one more time." With that, I dusted off his shoulders, turned him around on gave him a nudge down the menacing grate-worked hall.

Meanwhile, the rest of us were bitterly singed in the fire, but since we managed to survive the first blast, we had a chance to replenish ourselves.

Enzo sauntered up to the metal face again. "Who is the greatest in hell?" The metal face spoke again. "The Morning Star".

Fire again burst out from all directions. We were standing near the edge of the grating and felt the heat from the furnace roaring.

After the flames departed, Enzo was still standing there, he turned back to us with a grin on his face. "That's fun. A little got through, though."

"You want to come back and I'll place another protection on you?" I called out to him.

"No, Corman, I think I've got it." He spoke loudly while facing the wall. "Ask me again, metalhead." He tapped on the mask with a gauntleted hand making a hollow clanking sound.

"Who is the greatest in hell?" The jaw squeaked as the face spoke again.

"Octavious."

There was a click and the door swung wide. Enzo wordlessly flagged toward us to come down the hall. The door was filled with blindingly white light. Fearing the fiery retribution again, each of us quickly stepped through to the unknown.