335vas - Jinx In Hell 05 - Slumming In Dis

Jinx in Hell, Part 5 Slumming in Dis Jim Vassilakos ([email protected]) It's been a long time since I've submitted a report on the Jinx campaign, and needless to say, we've played well past the point where my frail memory can do justice to the story. Nonetheless, I have been keeping notes, and the game is interesting enough that I thought some readers might be interested in its progress. As some of you may recall, the five previous articles in this series were: Article Jinx in Hell, pt1 Jinx in Hell, pt2 Events at Malsheem Jinx in Hell, pt3 The Road to Dis Jinx in Hell, pt4 Entering Dis Jinx in Hell Replies to Comments

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When last we left Jinx & Kyna, they were signing up with the Blades of Fate, an interplanar cooperative for the housing of tieflings and other assorted misfits. A human woman by the name of Gwyr had agreed to be their guide. Of course, it struck her as rather odd that two devils, apparently of status, should want to go slumming in the Lion's Quarter of Dis. More likely that they should prefer to associate with their own kind. Yet, these two seemed different than most, and she knew well enough not to question travelers so long as they were paying hard coin. "Where would you like to go?" "Where the fun is," Jinx replies. "I've never been to Dis before." "I can't show you everywhere you might like to go. Being human, I have only limited access." "What can you show us?" "Well, first let me show you to your rooms. You must be weary from your journey." "I could use a bath," Kyna remarks. "It seems that everyone else on the plane has been bathing but me." "I'll have Merula draw some water." Merula turns out to be a homely, middle-aged, tiefling woman who moves around somewhat like a zombie, obeying orders with little regard to who

gives them, and at the stables, Jinx discovers Faust, a mumbling old man who Gwyr tells her they found wandering near the Styx, no memory of his life prior to Avernus or why he's even in Hell. "Is there any way to restore memories devoured by the Styx?" "If there is, I don't know of it. Best not to go bathing there, unless your life has been shit and you'd rather forget it anyway. Although I don't suspect you'd fall into that category." "What about you?" Jinx queries, noting again the emblem on Gwyr's shoulder guard. "I was part of an army when I arrived?" "Invading the Hells?" "That would be insane. No, we were being teleported into a combat zone. Unfortunately, something went wrong, and we ended up on Avernus. I knew from my very first breath of the air that something had gone terribly wrong. We lost over half our number during the first several hours; however, we got lucky and happened across a trade caravan which was bound for Dis. They agreed to take us in return for... some payment." "What sort of payment?" "Half our remaining numbers had to become their slaves. We had little choice, so we flipped coins to determine who should be handed over to them. Once we reached Dis, we discovered yet more troubles. We didn't have the right sort of coinage to enter the city, so those of us remaining agreed to one form of servitude or another. I think that I was perhaps the luckiest. Some members of the Blades took me in." "And so you've stayed here, waiting for some opportunity to get back home. How long has it been?" "Around a dozen of the lesser cycles (over 3 months). I've seen no reason to keep count." "Sounds like you've given up." "No. I've just found a little niche in Hell, a place to breathe. It's not much, but it's much better than the fate of the others." "And how long do you think your luck will hold?" "There is no way to know one's fate.

Why do you ask me these questions? Genuine concern or simple curiosity?" "Perhaps both." Jinx goes on to question Gwyr on the politics of Dis as well as how things work. She doesn't know much, as it turns out, although what little she does know she's all too willing to share. "From what I've heard, there's a shedevil named Baalzephon who runs the city. She's some high mucky-muck in the upper echelon, appointed by Dispater back before he went missing." "What's she like?" "I don't actually know anyone who's ever met her, but she often attends the games." "The games?" "At the arena. It's at the corner of the Lion's Quarter. I can take you there tomorrow. They open the gates at torchlight."

Minx Kyna soon returns from her bath, and seeking some nightlife, the trio head to a place along the edge of the quarter called the Smashed Left Testicle. Gwyr explains that it's a fems-only establishment, catering to female warriors, erinyes, and various other shedevils who have earned the freedom from their masters to go out at night and "raise some hell" as it were. The safety is two-fold, she explains: first, no male idiots will try to pick up on them only to get angered by a refusal, and second, nobody will try anything with all the erinye guards around. The meals there turn out to be more or less the norm for the hells, featuring barbecued elf, poached hobbit, and double-cooked dwarf. Gwyr, however, sticks to a dish of large, ruddy mushrooms in a delicate wine sauce, and Jinx and Kyna follow her lead, also ordering a pitcher of Green Goblin Ale, of which it is often said that it tastes not quite as bad as it smells. "You have some sort of fan-club?" Jinx queries of Gwyr when she notices some black looks cast in their general direction from a group of erinyes. "Not that I know of." "They're probably just wondering who

we are," Kyna observes. "Humans can go practically unnoticed in this sector, but not us. If my guess is right, we're in somebody's playground." "That may be true," Gwyr adds. "From their dress, I'd say that they're all members in the city guard. You're clearly not. And though I hate to admit it, sitting with me here like we're equals probably isn't doing you any good either." "Who said anything about us being equals?" Jinx queries. Just then, three of the erinyes begin what in the lower planes and occasionally elsewhere is known as the long stare. To meet it is to essentially issue a challenge. Failing to is an admission of cowardice. "Since you're the boss," Gwyr replies, "I'll let you take care of this." "Don't worry," Jinx continues to eat as though there's nothing amiss. "It's moments like these which I truly savor." Needless to say, the three get out of their chairs and begin to approach. Jinx smiles without so much as turning her head. "You three," a voice from the next table over stops them in their tracks. It belongs to a sort of devil that Jinx has never seen before, very much like an erinye, but wingless and seemingly a good deal stronger. "What do you three think you're doing?" "Just making friends, Ma'am." "You three have combat tomorrow. I won't suffer to see you damaged tonight. Go back to the barracks." They salute, as is no doubt required, then turn and head out the door without so much as another word. Once they're out of sight, the she-devil gets up and approaches, though her demeanor doesn't indicate anything beyond simple concern. "Who's platoon are you with?" "We're not," Jinx replies. "We're from...out of town." "We didn't mean to cause any trouble," Kyna adds. "I can see that," the she-devil replies. "You can stay and finish your meal, but next time pay your respects to the ranking officer when you first enter, and if you insist on eating with a human, do it in the corner where you'll attract less attention." "You're the ranking officer?" Jinx asks.

"Minx, lieutenant of the 12th regiment, 4 ground wing, under commander Serreg, and in custody of the Baron Esoto. And you are?" "On vacation," Jinx replies without a moment's hesitation, "and looking for a little excitement. So far, Dis is dull." The she-devil's eyes narrow. It is one thing for a devil to deny another the details regarding her position within the infernal hierarchy. It's quite another to have one's city of residence insulted, particularly a city so cosmopolitan and well-organized as Dis. th

"If it's fun that you seek, there's a romp house just down the street called The Fourplay. Tell them Minx sent you." With that said, she heads toward another group of erinyes, more of her soldiers, no doubt, as Jinx surmises from the respectful way they greet her. "What's a romp house?" Jinx queries of either of her two companions. "A place of party," Kyna replies. "The devils of Dis know how to unwind, or so they're constantly trying to convince one another." "The Fourplay is outside the quarter's gates," Gwyr adds. "No humans allowed. If you want to go, I'll just head back to the guild hall. You wouldn't want me tagging along anyway." "It would be safer for all of us if you didn't. You sure you don't mind?" "Of course, not. Just don't party all night long. We're going to the arena tomorrow."

Baron Esoto The Fourplay turns out to be a large, ornately carved edifice with a circular pipe organ as its centerpiece. Surrounding this is a circular bar as well as a dance aerie which rises straight to the vaulted ceiling high overhead. Platforms are situated like balconies along the chamber's circumference, as well as around the central column, stairs and ladders leading between them, although most devils don't require these. The erinyes fly from ledge to ledge like little, flamboyant birds, many of them engaged in a playful dance reminiscent of combat, their weapons flashing with sparks as they pass one another while those hell winds which are high enough

to cut over the city walls break against the building's central spire, their strange, howling undercurrent mixing with the eerie yet powerful melody of the organ itself, which draws its breath from these very same gusts. Four master organists work the keys of the mammoth instrument, each of them facing opposite one another, each playing separate but interweaving themes, and nested into all the walls are everburning candles, hundreds upon hundreds, each of a different hue, so that the entire interior is one disquieting yet beautiful bedlam, a numbing assault upon the senses, yet at the same moment, bewitching and unforgettable. "Okay, I'm impressed," Jinx says as she enters with Kyna at her side. "What?!" Kyna cups her ear with her hand. "Nice decor," Jinx communicates back telepathically. "I can see why they call it The Fourplay." "Well," Kyna replies, also telepathically, "what would a romp house be without a big, raging organ?" "It would certainly be a lot less noisy." "I'm thirsty. Let's drink." Just as at Red Blood Pub back at Cinderthatch in Pandemonium, they've got everything from Bang Beetle Wine to White Warg Vodkha1, plus a wide assortment of brews of which Jinx has never even heard. She ends up ordering a glass of Elf Blood Liqueur, savoring its sweet, effervescent flavor while enjoying the scenery. Suddenly, the crowd before her parts as a pit fiend approaches the bar. Rather than move with the masses, however, Jinx holds her ground, watching as the bartender brings forth a large mug of what must be his standing order. "You don't fear me?" the pit fiend's voice echoes in her mind. "Should I?" "It would be wise," he replies. "I'm not from around here." "I know. I would have noticed you before if you were." Jinx smiles, clinking glasses with him, though he stands a good deal taller than she. "What's your name?" he asks. "Certainly you can think of a better 1

Both of which can be found in Arduin Grimoire, Volume 4, also known as The Lost Grimoire, in the Potables article of page 102.

pick-up line than that." "I'm a pit fiend. I don't need to think of pick-up lines. I simply take what I want." "Where I come from, it is common courtesy for a man to introduce himself before boasting of his abilities and rights." "I am Serreg." "Ah, of the 12th regiment. I spoke with one of your subordinates this evening." "I know," he confesses. "She's over there." Jinx lets her eyes follow his, and within a moment she can pick out Minx in the crowd. "I see. So this is a set-up?" "No. This is a question and answer session. I ask questions; you answer them. You told Minx you are on a vacation. Who is your master, and why did he send you here?" "It's a long story, and you don't look like you have a very long attention span." Serreg glares at her for a considerable moment. "You might be surprised what 1001 days of fire2 will do for one's patience." "And just imagine...that's only because you were lucky." "Luck had nothing to do with it." "Precisely," Jinx smiles. "In any case, when you first approached me, I was under the impression that you had some sort of genuine interest in me, perhaps because I am the one unapproachable bitch in here who every guy is staring at, but nobody can obtain. Now I see that I made a mistake. You only wanted to play your Q&A games with me, and I am ill-disposed to playing games with strangers." Serreg glares at her some more, finally downing his ale. "I can see now why your master sent you on vacation. In any case, my purpose was not simply for Q&A. My master wishes to extend to you an audience." "And who is this master?" "The Baron Esoto." Jinx sees Serreg gazing into the crowd again, and as her eyes follow his, she can see yet another pit fiend, though this one is even larger than Serreg. Unlike most pit fiends, however, his face, though twisted by the evil blood of 2

Pit Fiends must endure 1001 days of torment by fire as part of their transformation.

devilkind, is strangely handsome, and when he smiles and shows his fangs, she realizes at once that he has been listening, telepathically, to the entire conversation. "This may take a while," she glances toward Kyna before heading to present herself before this Baron of Hell. Once there, Jinx bows politely, as she has seen is the custom in the Hells when addressing nobility. "You wish to speak to me?" "I do. Come, sit here beside me. Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you...much." Jinx sits, flashing him her most disarming smile. "I trust you are enjoying your vacation so far?" he queries. "It's beginning to pick up." "You have never been to Dis before, have you?" "No," she replies truthfully. "I've been many places, but never here." "I don't wish for you to leave disappointed with your experience. I'm sure your master would not want that either." "I'm sure he wouldn't," she agrees. "Can I offer you a drink?" "I have one." "Yes, elf blood liqueur. A fine choice, but terribly pedestrian. Let me offer you something you won't find on the menu. This is called Nectar of the Nymphs," he pours her a tall, thin glass. "Dare I ask how it's made?" "Painfully, I assure you," he smiles. "Try it. I just know you'll like it." Jinx complies, somewhat startled by the scintillating bite as well as the smooth, ambient quality of the aftertaste, the delicate texture of which speaks of a terrifying agony, cut sharply at the moment of severest ecstasy. "Not bad," she comments.

"Not bad, indeed," the Baron grins. "By your studied reaction, I would say that you are held in high regard. Your master has treated you very well, has he not?" "Indeed," Jinx nods, not quite sure how to reply. "I should expect that you appreciate him accordingly. Such masters are rare. What is his game, pray tell? Why does he let you flutter about, unattended save by a single erinyes? Does he not realize that the Hells are full of dangers? Around any corner, you might stumble upon someone who would use you badly. You might even disappear, never to be seen nor heard from again." "Indeed," she repeats. "Fortunate it is that I stumbled upon you." "Yes. Fortunate, indeed. So who is this master of yours who treats you so generously, yet so very, very carelessly?" "That shall remain a mystery," Jinx replies, "for it is a question that even he would rather I not answer." "How very odd. At least tell me where you are from." "If I do, do you promise you shall not blab it all over town?" "You have my word on it. I shall hold it with the greatest of discretion." "You don't look very discreet," she smiles playfully. "Oh, but I am. I am truly discreet. I am the very soul of discretion. Why, discretion is my middle name." "Baron 'discretion' Esoto," Jinx telepathically intones. "I think it suits you." "So you shall tell me?" "I think I shall. Are you ready?" "Indeed, I am." "Good, but are you quite sure you're ready? I don't wish to startle you."

"In truth, I could not be any readier. Startle me, you shall not." "That is well. In truth then, for we are speaking truthfully, and honestly, and plainly, I tell you this as anyone in my position would tell it to anyone in yours. I come here from a little place called Malsheem. Oh, you've heard of it? Yes, it is that same Malsheem that lay at the heart of Nessus, the very pit of the Hells. That should give you some idea of who my master might be, and why I can wander about here without a care on my little, feminine brain, because I know that if anyone touches me, so much as one hair on my pretty little head, that shit shall fall on them…the sort of shit that comes not in small little balls like might be set into a chamber pot, but rather the sort which comes down, say, from a beast like a dragon, caving in the roof of a peasant who was not smart enough to make sure he staked a healthy cow to a pole in his yard so that the aforementioned dragon might easily find sustenance--and appeasement--in the winter...that sort of shit, which coats one's very being and immerses them in it's unwholesome shittiness. I hope this doesn't frighten you, for my master is wise and benevolent and would not shit on your house unless given cause, which I'm quite certain you would never do now that you know where I come from." Baron Esoto regards her for a long moment, as though trying to figure out if her speech is all one elaborate bluff, or whether she's telling the truth. "I believe it is your turn to speak," Jinx telepathically conveys, "or didn't you realize that?" "I am considering your reply." "Oh, I'm sorry. I expected that you would be able to consider it more quickly. Please, take your time. I'll wait." Esoto opens his mouth, then closes it again, leaning back as though quietly putting away the last of his options. "I'm having a little social get-together tomorrow evening," he finally says. "Would you be interested in attending?" "Here?" "No, this is far too public. It'll be at my estate outside the city. Just a few dozen friends. It would be an opportunity for you to meet people and...enjoy their company, as well as mine." "It sounds like it is worth considering," she replies.

"It's just beyond the Grey Stretch, all alone by itself, you can't miss it. If you should decide, you can even bring your servant. Go now, before I decide to kiss you and risk angering your master." "Only a kiss? I don't know whether to be distraught or offended. Just so you know, I am free to do with my body as I wish," Jinx tells him. "It is an understanding we have." "In that case, you should stay. The party has barely started." "It's been a long day, and I am weary. Tomorrow, perhaps. But only if you're very discreet."

The Arena The Arena, as it turns out, is really something like the Colosseum in Rome, except much more expansive and incomprehensibly more decadent. Its gates are opened just as the first torch towers become lit, and Jinx enters with Gwyr, Kyna, and tens of thousands of other devils, tieflings, and assorted miscreants from across the planes. During the time it takes to fill up, there are long parade marches of various dukes entering the arena, each of them carried on what can only be described as mobile monuments; mobile, that is, if you consider the several hundred lemures as well as the legion of living slaves it takes to drag them along the streets leading into the arena. Often it is that several of these poor unfortunates are forced to allow themselves to be crushed underneath these huge blocks of living stone so that the fluids from their bodies can be used as a lubricant to keep the streets from being damaged. In this way, they sacrifice themselves to help along this pointless and seemingly endless procession, some willingly, if only because they've had enough torment and care not that their souls might be trapped as the exposed organs within a brick of burning clay for all the remainder of eternity. Others go down beneath the great blocks only at the end of a pitchfork, kicking and screaming and crying out for mercy, of which there's none. They forget where they are, or so it seems, and all the while the crowds chant the names of the nobles who enter, as well as unholy praises in the ancient language of Mabrahoring, the deviltongue. "All hail Alocer!" "All hail Merodach!"

"All hail Baalzephon!" Yes, Baalzephon. Jinx stares at her even as others avert their eyes, kneeling to the ground lest they be burnt to ash by her awe-inspiring glory. She is beautiful, yet there is a strange cunning to her eyes, like a woman scorned who has yet to fully work out her revenge. Sitting in her golden, flame-lit carriage, fixed upon a great block of living stone, she seems both terrible and remote, unaware of the pulsating organs and eyes of countless souls decorating her monument, magical glyphs drawn into the scorched clay keeping them united and fully cognizant of their pain. Indeed, her monument is the largest of them all, and is carved with the ancient symbol of Dispater, who used to ride upon it into this very same arena many years before the Wars amongst the Gods, back in the time of Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Asmodeus, long before Mephistopheles was Emperor of the Hells. To ride this monument is to assert oneself as the Lord of Dis, and ride it she does, unchallenged until a successor shall be chosen, and that may never happen. "Queen Baalzephon," they call out. "Queen and Guardian of Dis! Prosecutor of the Blood War! General of generals!" Nobody uses the title of Lady Minister, which Adramalech had addressed her as in his letter. They call out to her like she were already their ArchDuchess, yet none of this does she acknowledge. Upon her face is only the cold contemplation of some hidden thought, some veiled deliberation, a secret which in this moment only she can know. Then the games begin….