Hello everyone and welcome back once again to the indieheads Album of the Year 2020 Write-Up Series, the daily series where the users of indieheads talk their favorite albums of the year throughout the duration of December. Up today, we've got u/smasherx coming into the series to talk Fleet Foxes highly anticipated fourth LP, Shore. September 22nd, 2020 - Anti- Listen: Bandcamp Spotify Apple Music Background After self-releasing The Fleet Foxes EP in 2006, Seattle-based Fleet Foxes had a breakout year in 2008 with the release of their Sun Giant EP and self-titled debut LP. With their sprightly folk arrangements, vocal harmonies, and pastoral lyrics, both 2008 releases were met with widespread acclaim, and the band rode a momentary wave of folk-rock renaissance to great initial success. Their debut is all the more impressive knowing that band members Robin Pecknold and Skyler Skjelset were just 21 during its recording. The raw talent and maturity on display in songs like “White Winter Hymnal”, “Blue Ridge Mountains”, and “Mykonos” remains staggering. And though Robin, the band’s singer and songwriter, later described his lyrics as “pure RPG fantasy”, admitting to not having much experience to draw on, Fleet Foxes and SunGiant have surely gained a great deal of lasting power from the timelessness of their stories and sound. If Fleet Foxes’ first LP succeeded with an ageless appeal, their 2011 follow-up, Helplessness Blues, reckoned with the anxieties of a very particular age. Opening with an act of self-interrogation (“So now I am oldeThan my mother and fatheWhen they had their daughteNow what does that say about me?”) Helplessness Blues was more anxious and inward-looking while retaining all the melodic grace of its predecessor. Among the classic folk-rock pastiches are bold experiments like “The Shrine / An Argument” and “Grown Ocean”, as well as the title track, an introspective folk epic that still serves as a kind of mission statement song for the band. With its warm production and evocative, self-searching lyrics, Helplessness Blues may be the fan favourite album, at least around these parts. After a 5-year break from recording and touring, Fleet Foxes returned in 2017 with their third LP, Crack-Up, an album that punched up the band’s sound by introducing more complex song structures and rhythms, abrupt loud/quiet shifts, and new musical textures including just a hint of synth. The songs are bigger and more adventurous than ever, with the album functioning more like a series of suites than individual singles – despite its 11 tracks, there are just three actual gaps between songs. At 55 minutes, Crack-Up just keeps giving, and its back half in particular, “Mearcstapa” through “Crack-Up”, is an incredible sequence of ambitious, orchestral prog-folk. If the dense and dark album proved to be somewhat impenetrable lyrically (at least partly by design), what it clearly revealed was a future of exciting possibilities for the band. Unshackled from the expectations of representing the indie folk movement, Fleet Foxes were free to follow their inspirations wherever they should lead. And so, as the Crack-Up tour wound down in mid-2018, work on a new set of songs commenced. Robin seemed to have a clear concept in mind for a fourth album pretty early on, hinting through Instagram and Reddit posts that LP4 would be a kind of yin-yang companion to Crack-Up, acting as a sun to Crack-Up’s moody clouds. For a while, “Gioia” (Italian for “joy”) was the working title of the album. Demo snippets began appearing on Robin’s generous Instagram (@robinpecknold) in late 2018, with early versions of “Can I Believe You”, “Sunblind”, and “I’m Not My Season” among the samples heard. Things seemed to be progressing well throughout 2019 as fans were baited with Instagram Live sessions and glimpses of the band and other contributing musicians in the studio. Then in early 2020, the emerging COVID-19 pandemic came along, and, well… you know what happened there. Witness to untold tragedy and chaos from his Manhattan apartment during lockdown, Robin would begin to doubt the value of his music and considered scrapping the project entirely. How do you make happy-sounding music in such a miserable time? But in late spring and early summer, he would find a way to re-contextualize the project in light of current world events, and a burst of inspiration resulted in a new set of lyrics and a drive to finish the album and put it out as quickly as possible. Mostly recording on his own with engineer Beatriz Artola (his bandmates not present due to COVID restrictions), Robin finished work on the album in September and began prepping for an immediate release. That Robin was able to finish Shore over the summer and surprise-release it during a brief window of sunshine on September 22nd, 2020, speaks to the purpose of the project from its very conception: to tell the story of perseverance, relief, and joy through dark and difficult times. Review by smasherx September 22, 2020 My alarm sounded at 7:15 AM, same as always, but instead of stumbling into my home office to catch up on emails, I settled into the corner nook of my sectional couch, Bluetooth earbuds in, YouTube cued up on the TV. In just a few minutes, Fleet Foxes would be premiering their new album, Shore, alongside a 16 mm companion film. Already there were over 4,000 viewers in the livestream, flooding the chat with exclamations of excitement, greetings from around the world, and demands, from a contingent of Brazilians, for the band to come to Brazil. A tall order for this year, but maybe next? I’d called in sick to work that morning, a decision that felt better with every second that ticked away on the livestream countdown. After six months of non-stop, post-pandemic work from home, I was ragged and exhausted, my job now fully blurred with what I used to call home life. The release of a new album from one of my favourite bands was as good a reason as any to push the needle over the line, to stop and take a breath for one day. 7:31 AM (Mountain Daylight Time) The autumnal equinox arrived with the crashing of waves. The opening shot of Shore is a rain-soaked, overcast beach, like the morning after an overnight storm. After a minute, the sound of the rolling surf gives way to a few melodic guitar strums, and then a voice: not Robin Pecknold’s, but a young woman’s, buoyed by a gentle layering of horns just below the surface: Summer all overBlame it on timingWeakening August water The singer is Uwade Akhere, who Robin discovered on Instagram (@uwade.music) after she posted a cover of his song “Mykonos”. Having followed Shore’s development, I knew the opening track would feature this guest vocalist, and truly, the easy charm she lends the song is a gift. What really took me by surprise the first time through “Wading in Waist-High Water” is what happens next, as the second verse arrives with a burst of emphatic pianos, percussion, and bass, not to mention a children’s choir. It’s in this moment that Foxes’ bright and ebullient fourth album announces itself… S H O R E Halfway through “Sunblind”, I sent a text to my friend, who I knew was listening 3,500 km away on the other side of Canada. “This song is about swimming!” I said. My friend and I had plans to meet for a camping trip in the States earlier that summer, plans that obviously didn’t happen, and swimming is a special activity for our group of friends. “Ya the first two are very swim-centric. I’m lovin it!” she replied. The tribute to musicians in this song was lost on me in that first listen. I just loved that it was about swimming. Next, “Can I Believe You”. I’d heard the previews on Robin’s Instagram, and knew it was going to slap, but the final version stunned me. There I was, first thing in the morning, absolutely jamming out to Robin’s “headbanger about trust issues”. Shore was off to an unbelievable start. Meanwhile, in the livestream chat, people seemed to be feeling much the same as I was. A lot of listeners confessed to be crying, and though there was certainly a lot to cry about in September 2020, I have no doubt they were joyful tears, brought about by the revelation of great beauty in a vulnerable moment. Though music rarely hits me that way, I felt a lot of strong emotions as Shore unveiled itself, namely excitement and awe at the splendour of the music, and incredulous relief that I’d have a day off work. For the rest of Shore’s premiere, I mostly stayed off my phone and focussed on the music and film, but when Tim Bernades’ verse began in “Going-to-the-Sun Road”, I wasn’t sure what language I was hearing. I opened the YouTube chat and read several messages exclaiming: “Portuguese! Portuguese!”. The “Come to Brazil” contingency was going nuts. Incredibly, Robin had delivered on that most unlikely of demands. By the time Shore reached its denouement title track, the totality of the piece began to sink in. After that first listen, I had the feeling Shore was a very strong album from front to back, as remarkably consistent as Crack-Up despite the extended length they both share. Prior to Shore’s release, 15 tracks and 55 minutes seemed impossibly generous, but here we were again. The film, by the way, is worth watching. A “road movie” shot on 16 mm, it expresses Fleet Foxes’ most central theme: people in nature. While Fleet Foxes is well-known for its bucolic imagery, its Blue Ridge Mountains and whatnot, not usually as obvious is the person at the center of it, undergoing an experience. What Shore, the film, makes especially clear to me is that there is no real need to distinguish between the two. Take the film’s opening shot, for example, of the rain-soaked beach: Just as “Wading” begins to play, a young man appears at the bottom of the frame, and he walks, hands-in-pockets, all the way up to the ocean’s crashing surf. Shore is full of such images that imply the intertwined duality of our internal and external: a girl walking confidently down a sunlit sidewalk, a man falling asleep in the tranquil woods. We belong in nature, just as it belongs in us. 9:00 AM Later that morning, I listened to Shore again, this time paying closer attention to its lyrics, credits, and key sonic elements, all while attempting to pre-order the new Xbox from six different stores online. The first take I had is that, despite its poppy opening numbers, Shore is not so different from the other Fleet Foxes albums, specifically Crack-Up. To me, Shore sounds like the joyous second half of “On Another Ocean” stretched to nearly an hour, by which I mean Shore’s key sonic connection to Crack-Up is its use of horns. Supplied once again by the Westerlies, these subtle yet impactful arrangements may come to be the defining feature of the Crack-Up/Shore twinship, depending on where Fleet Foxes go from here. (I hope they stick with them.) Speaking of key contributors, Robin brought in a team of ringers to play drums this time around: Homer Steinweiss, Joshua Jaeger, and Christopher Bear, the latter well-known for his playing in Grizzly Bear. Bear may be the best drummer in the world for this kind of music, and his work especially shines on Shore’s climactic track, “Cradling Mother, Cradling Woman”, which also features Grizzly Bear guitarist Daniel Rossen. Awade Akhere, Meara O’Reilly and Tim Bernades are three other contributors I would highlight, each adding unexpected vocal twists to their songs. The impact of all of Shore’s contributors cannot be understated: by bringing their own expertise to very specific moments, they help elevate the songs to incredible heights. There were also some notable absences in the album credits, and during release day, I saw a number of questions posed to Robin about the whereabouts of bandmates Skyler Skjelset, Morgan Henderson, Christian Largo, and Casey Wescott. Due to COVID-19 restrictions, they were not able to participate in Shore’s recording, which is unfortunate, but they will be involved in writing and recording new songs for an expanded version of Shore due next year. Meanwhile, I think I can understand Robin’s drive to finish the album and put it out when he did: in this isolating, soul-crushing year, just getting our work done means a hell of a lot. 10:31 AM For the dedicated Fleet Foxes fan, September 22nd provided not only a new album, but a few opportunities to interact with its creator, Robin Pecknold. One of these was a live artist commentary scheduled for 10:31 AM on YouTube, during the fourth showing of the Shore film as it streamed on repeat that day. Robin is notoriously generous with the Fleet Foxes fanbase, always keeping us in the loop with snippets of new songs, answering questions, reposting covers, tattoos, memes, etc. The time he makes for his fans has resulted in the formation of a vibrant online community that congregates in places like Instagram, Reddit, and Discord, and I believe this community is really important for Robin. In the case of Shore, he took the incredible step of featuring fan-submitted vocals on “Can I Believe You”, the background chorus consisting of some 500 submissions solicited via Instagram last summer. Robin has offered up a fan-artist dynamic as one interpretation of the song’s lyrics: “Can I believe you when you say I’m good?” he sings, as the chorus harmonically supports him. When an artist opens themselves up to fan interaction, there is always the risk of being totally inundated by the response, and that may have been the case with the YouTube commentary. Robin appeared in the chat at the appointed hour, but things very quickly went off the rails. Admittedly overwhelmed by the frenzy of questions, reactions, and troll posts in the chat, Robin did his best to share some commentary about Shore, but was M.I.A. for several long stretches. On a hunch, I opened up the Fleet Foxes Discord and there was Robin, seeking comfort among friends in the main discussion space. “YouTube terrifies,” he’d written. For Robin, having worked tirelessly on the project throughout the pandemic summer, releasing it without even a month off to catch his breath, September 22 must have been like a sudden reckoning. Normally, an artist on release day would have the benefit of being around friends, family, and bandmates during this huge life event. I’m pretty sure Robin spent much of the day by himself in his NYC apartment, alone but for the thousands of voices sending their every thought in his direction. While the YouTube session provided some insight about Shore’s creative process, it was all the more interesting for its glimpse into Robin’s singular experience that day. 5:00 PM A true listening party happened later in the day over on the Fleet Foxes Discord. First, a disclaimer: I don’t claim to speak for the Discord, let alone understand it. Indeed, as of this writing, I no longer have access, evidently kicked out for my own lack of activity. But I can say, to anyone who cares, that I was there when the community reached its feverish climax, in the days leading up to and including Shore’s release. In the great, tightening spiral of Fleet Foxes fandom, the Discord is the centre point, the ostensible origin for a great deal of inside jokes about Birkenstocks, inflatable alligators, and Minions. I’d resisted joining for a while—it was all a little confounding for a relative casual like me. However, at one point in early September, rumours circulated on the Fleet Foxes subreddit of a listening party for the new album taking place on the Discord laterthat week. This was a week or two before the album was announced, before most anyone had a notion that it even existed in finished form. Not wanting to miss out, I immediately downloaded the app and joined the server. Lurking on the Fleet Foxes Discord just before Shore’s release, it became apparent that a sort of culture, complete with its own nomenclature had developed. There was talk of the “Sooners” – a small group of fans with whom Robin had shared the album as early as late August. The Sooners had taken on a mythical status, hated for their privilege but exalted nonetheless. If nothing else, it was the first indication to me that a finished album definitely existed. Of course, a big draw of the Discord is that Robin himself is a member and semi-active participant, and he played his own part in teasing the new album’s release. In mid-September, he shared an mp3 file which was touted as a leak of LP4’s first single. It turned out to be “His Name Is Dad”, a joke song for Robin’s dad’s birthday, with vocals by Robin recorded over a Pat Metheny Group instrumental. Despite my initial disappointment, the track is actually impressive for its lyrical and vocal dexterity, and worth a listen. “This was two days of prime Shore studio time,” Robin would later confess. As for the rumoured Discord listening party, despite hints of it being a pre-release preview, it didn’t end up happening until September 22nd, but it still felt like a privilege to have access when I found out the Discord had been temporarily closed to new members during the frenzy of Shore’s release day. At the scheduled hour of 5:00 PM, we all gathered into the listening party chatroom with Robin, and after a few false starts, synced up our playback of the Shore film. I think we were all expecting a measured and thoughtful live commentary on the recording process, but what followed was something else entirely: “Who’s that singing???? Not RP wtf,” typed Robin as the album’s first song began. “What’s going on here what kind of ride are we in for.” Despite the “no shitposting” rule imposed by the moderators, Robin spammed the chat every 5 seconds with his feigned confusion and all-caps impressions about what he was hearing, and we were all here for it. All the while, he was slyly providing actual information about his creative process. For example, a few songs in, during the fade-out of “Featherweight”, he asked the chat rhetorically: “What happens next? We’ve already had a sunshine pop, a headbang, a stomp, and a floater.” Cue: “A Long Way Past the Past”. A STRUTIT’S A STRUT80 BPM STRUT And so it went for 60 minutes: Robin reacting to Shore as if he were hearing it for the first time, but somehow full of insight about its recording and construction. I don’t know how he kept this up, but he did, and it was hilarious. This time, it was the fans who had to try and keep pace. “PERFECT,” said Robin and everyone else in the chat at the start of “Young Man’s Game”. The album was only out for 10 hours, and already it felt like a live screening of The Room, with everyone shouting the classic lines in unison. Later, as “Quiet Air” transitioned into “Gioia”, Robin dropped a bombshell on everyone: “CHOCOLATE RAIN,” he exclaimed as the discordant-sounding, dancing piano line kicked in. “TAY ZONDAY FEATURE.” It may be a joke, but just try unhearing that. Before too long, it was over. The listening party, like the album itself, flew by in what seemed like far less than an hour. Robin thanked us for coming out and informed us he had to go join a family Zoom call —a sweet thought, but a statement that wouldn’t make sense to most people just one year ago. “This is the greatest fan interaction of music history,” wrote one participant during the Discord listening party, and it’s hard to disagree. It may seem trivial, but it’s clear Robin recognizes the importance of communal artistic experiences, and in the absence of live concerts, has leveraged any and all tools available to make them happen. In the weeks following Shore’s release, the band arranged for several drive-in movie screenings of the Shore film across America, and in one week’s time, on December 21st, Robin will perform a live set online, A Very Lonely Solstice Livestream. Despite the solo nature of the performance, he will once again bring a community of people together into a kind of shared, collective experience. In this year of isolation, it’s this kind of togetherness which has been so sorely missed. 8:30 PM At the end of the day, I decided to go for a walk. Since the spring lockdown, these strolls and jogs through the neighbourhood have been some of my only exposure to nature. I pressed play on Shore as I stepped outside, and from the first guitar strums of “Wading in Waist-High Water”, it felt different. Although it was my fifth listen of the day, it was the first one outdoors, where the music of Fleet Foxes has always gained intrinsic power. Under the impossibly huge sky of the Canadian prairie, the rising quarter moon overhead, the sounds of Shore carried new and tremendous weight. Shore is a joyful, hopeful record to be sure, but it doesn’t take the easy road there. It’s not just a cheap trick with upbeat melodies and happy lyrics. Relief from adversity is its theme, and Shore has its share of adverse moments. “I’m losing my fight,” sings Robin in “Going-to-the-Sun Road”, in what could be the album’s most heartrending and relatable lyric. “Quiet Air” can also be an uncomfortable listen, sounding like an ominous reminder of the impending climate crises. But what happens next is crucial. With Tay Zonday’s help, “Quiet Air” transforms into “Gioia”, a pure celebration of life that dispels all that fear and anxiety with its pagan ritual dance: “I never wanna die, I never wanna die,” repeats Robin over and over, and we want to be right there with him. That Shore arrives at this place of peace after battling through its darkness it what makes it such a powerful album for so many of us, I’m sure—but then again, back on that first day, we were all just feeling our way through it. What I felt that night, listening to “Sunblind” as I walked down the long, empty bike path that cuts through my neighbourhood, is something I hadn’t expected. Each kick-drum in the pre-chorus hit like a hammer strike on my defences, and in the end, I couldn’t help but lean into it. When that beautiful, transcendent chorus hit, I reached for its light and cried, and cried, and cried. Favorite Lyrics
I'm gonna swim for a week in Warm American Water with dear friends Swimming high on a lea in an Eden Running all of the leads you've been leaving
“Sunblind”
And I need you with me And you read the writ Are you now insisting Is it not worth it? But I've got no option I inherited this and I'm overcome
“A Long Way Past the Past”
Sunday end Ache for the sight of friends Though I've been safe in the thought That the line we walk Is the same one
“Maestranza”
Now the quarter moon is out Now the quarter moon is out
“Shore”
Talking Points
What was your experience of Shore’s release on Sept 22nd?
What do you think of Robin’s generosity and relationship with his fans? Is it unique among artists or more commonplace these days?
Where does Shore rank for you among Fleet Foxes’ 4 albums?
Does Shore have a skipper? Thank you to u/smasherx for their write-up! Up tomorrow, we've got u/ClocktowerMaria coming in to discuss Illuminati Hotties' surprise release, FREE I.H: This is Not the One You've Been Waiting For. In the meantime, discuss today's album and its write-up in the comments, and peep the schedule below for the rest of this year's series + all previous write-ups.
Could the lack of a DLSS equivalent be the reason why 6700 series is so badly delayed?
An H1 release means 6700 series will not be competing in stores until mid to late summer, more than HALF A YEAR away. That is one totally different reality from the dreams many had just a month ago about competition around €$300 as early as Jan/Feb. What happened? AMD certainly has a pretty fixed chip supply from TSMC so they have to prioritise products. This means AMD intentionally chose to deprioritise GPUs in favour of CPUs & console SOCs despite the demand for GPUs being so high they sell at 50-100% over MSRP. I have a very hard time believing a GPU at this gargantuan price is still less profitable than other products competing for the same silicone. And yet we've already seen AMD's priorities in the 6800 series supply. It's unbelievably bad. Orders of magnitude worse than for 3000 series. So bad as to not really be a competitor for 3000 series in any practical way. Why doesn't AMD trust their GPUs more? In my opinion Nvidia managed to sucker punch AMD with a one-two of RT-DLSS. The lack of RT is the number 1 problem that makes the 6800 series seem not worthy of their gigantic price tags particularly against the 3080. They are also missing other important[ish] features but I've seen CP2077 with and without RT and there really is a feeling of premium experience added by RT. It's mostly subtle but important, like all things premium. I don't know about you but when I'm paying €$700 to €$1000 for a GPU, I not only expect but demand all kinds of premium experiences at least with games available at the time of purchase. But in the mid-range where 6700 series will live, RT is not such a deal breaker. And then here comes punch number 2: DLSS. I hate it. It's not fair to call it cheating but it's so annoyingly close. All modes except Quality are garbage at under 4K. In Quality mode it provides an often noticeably inferior visual quality but it's extremely hard to refuse using it when it's the only thing making bleeding edge titles like CP2077 playable in all their splendour and if you squint a little you can more often than not forget about the dirty cheat. In my opinion it's the lack of an DLSS equivalent that made AMD delay 6700 so much. With it, a relatively cheap and inferior product like the 3060 12 GB will appear to handle in stride everything under the Sun at 1920x1080 and, with a few exceptions, even at 2560x1440, making it a much better apparent value vs. the 6700 series products. What do you think? What made AMD delay the 6700 series so much as to let Nvidia practically rule the market without a bother for another 2 to 3 quarters?
LAVAL Laval couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I’ll really get to train?” he asked incredulously. “That’s what he said,” replied Rukus. The Master of Steel had been sent by King Crominus to inform Laval that his heart’s desire was going to come true: he would get to train as a Kingsguard. “Who’ll be my teacher? When will I start? Where will I train?” Rukus stepped back. “Too many questions, My lord,” he said. “I’m just the messenger. I don’t know any of the details.” Laval was practically glowing with excitement. Take that, Father, he thought. “All I know is that you are to go to the Crocodile Courtyard tomorrow at sunrise, and you are to bring your sword.” Laval nodded enthusiastically. “Sure thing. I’ll be there!” “I won’t know either way. I won’t be.” “Right. Sorry. Thank you!” Rukus left and Laval shut his door. Yes! Finally! Laval could have run around his room if it hadn’t been so messy. His bed was unmade; his blanket hadn’t been folded in quite some time, and his clothes were scattered on the floor, his bed, and the rack. Laval needed to release his energy, and so he decided to find Cragger. He looked for the crocodile prince everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. He had searched the Crocodile Courtyard, the catacombs, the throne room and had even asked to be permitted into the royal family’s common room. The guards had denied him, but had confirmed that Cragger was not there. Crooler was, but Laval was not interested in the least. Finally, it was Cragger who came to him. Laval was sitting alone in the Crocodile Courtyard, the open-top square space near his room, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Looking for me?” Laval jumped to his feet. “Hell yeah, Cragger! Did you hear the news?” Cragger shook his head. “I’m going to train as a Kingsguard!” Cragger grinned a toothy grin. “That’s great, Laval! You’ve dreamed of becoming a Kingsguard since you were a kid!” “I know! I start tomorrow! I’m so excited!” Cragger had brought his dual Vengious blade, and Laval had brought his Valious. “Why did you want to see me, Laval?” asked Cragger. “We should race,” he replied. “What?” “Race, like we used to! Don’t you remember how we’d drive circles around the Lion Temple?” Cragger grinned. “We haven’t done that in a while, have we,” he mused. “No,” said Laval, “we haven’t. My father’s been bothering me about reading this and reading that so that I can become an advisor. He’d only let me use my Speedor after I could summarize whatever the hell I just read.” “You think that’s bad? My father comes back after every council meeting and gets drunk before telling me all about it. He thinks everyone is stupid and the decisions they make are stupid. The only person he actually praises when he’s drunk is your father.” There was a pause in the conversation. “He wants you two to make up, you know.” Laval looked down. “My father made it clear that he doesn’t care what I want. I’m just a ‘what if’ to him. What if I had done this? What if I had done that? I’m like a second try for him.” Cragger sighed. “Ever since Father has been giving me advice about ruling, I’ve begun to think about things from a different perspective. Try putting yourself in his place, Laval. He just wants what’s best for Chima. Is that really a bad thing?” “I’ve tried putting myself in his place before. He’s still a sanctimonious hypocrite. I mean, he’s the one who killed Fluminox.” “That’s because the phoenixes were lying about their prophecies,” reminded Cragger. “He felt that the phoenixes were no longer qualified to rule Chima. He didn’t kill him on a whim. No matter what you think about him, your father does want what’s best for most people. And people like us, we’re not most people.” That gave Laval pause. Maybe I was too harsh on Father, he thought. I guess he does want me to help save the realm, whatever that entails. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “About making up, I mean. I suppose I can’t ignore my father forever.” Cragger laughed. “Cavora knows we’ve tried. Anyways, you said you wanted to race?” Laval grinned. “You can’t imagine. Race you to the garage!” In an instant, Laval and Cragger had bolted; they were both sprinting towards the garage where their Speedorz were being kept. They quickly found it and hopped on their vehicles, their bodies surging with excitement. The one-wheeled vehicles were powered by strange blue crystals called Icefire from Mount Cavora, the majestic mountain in the centre of Chima. Having made a deal with the Rhinoceros Tribe centuries ago, the other animal tribes of Chima were able to obtain these crystals and use their energy to power their Speedorz; some of Icefire had ultimately found their way to the Outlands as well. While Speedorz once occupied a deeply spiritual and religious role for devout Cavorans, they had since become little more than tools for racing and for battle. The Speedorz were operated by the rider’s hands; one knob was for acceleration while the other was for steering. Laval had ridden one many times before, and all Chi Speedorz followed the same general style of control. Laval and Cragger revved their vehicles, preparing for their age-old dance. “Where do you want to go?” asked Cragger. Laval shrugged. “Through the Firewood?” “Sure,” Cragger replied eagerly. It was getting harder for Laval to hear over the sounds of their Speedorz and his own pounding heart. “Ready?” Cragger nodded, his yellow reptilian eyes already dead set in front of him. “Pride and Fury!” Laval roared as he peeled out of the garage. “Sharper Than Steel!” Cragger returned, his Speedor squealing as well. In no time, the two of them were well outside the Citadel’s walls and heading towards the Firewood, their Speedorz rumbling down the earthen trail leading to the forest. Laval was in the lead, but winning did not preoccupy his thoughts. Instead, he took in the wind blowing through his fiery red mane and the colourful blurs which he blazed past. He inhaled deeply, taking in the cool breeze and listening to the hum of the Speedor against the rocky road beneath him. He could hear Cragger’s Speedor behind him as well, gaining on him. “Out of practice, Cragger?” Laval taunted. “Ha! You wish, Laval!” Cragger’s Speedor suddenly surged forward, passing Laval’s in an instant. “See you back in the Citadel!” he shouted jokingly. “Over my dead body!” Laval revved his Speedor and accelerated until he was just behind Cragger. His best friend’s maroon cloak was blowing in the wind, and his tail was swaying gently. The Firewood was fast approaching and the trail was narrowing, only allowing room for one Speedor at a time. The trees were beginning to take up more space, and the bright splendour of the Citadel was becoming a memory. “Off-road?” Laval asked hopefully. “As long as there aren’t any shortcuts!” Whooping, Laval immediately veered his Speedor to the right, weaving through various towering trees. Gazing upwards, Laval saw the gentle sunlight through the green canopy as his bumpy ride criss crossed through roots and trunks. He could just make out Cragger, barreling down the straight, clear path which cut through the forest. “You’re not going to try some glade racing?” Laval shouted as he caught up to the crocodile. “Why waste my energy?” Cragger retorted. “This is the easiest way back!” Indeed, the trail which had been forged in the Firewood looped around and would eventually lead back to the Citadel, forcing Cragger into a circuitous track. Laval could easily cut straight through the trees, but he decided to stay close to his friend. “Easiest, but not the fastest!” Tempting Cragger to follow him, Laval drove his Speedor in front of the crocodile before going right again. Laughing, Cragger turned right as well, following Laval through the copse of trees. “Now this is a race!” Laval shouted gleefully, bobbing and weaving around the tree trunks. He could see the trees becoming more sparse as he pushed forward. “We’re almost out of the forest!” he yelled. “I know!” Cragger returned. “Which means it’s time to accelerate!” With one final burst of speed, Cragger tore through the forest and made it out, in view of the Citadel. Laval followed a few seconds behind, not missing a beat. They continued back towards the Citadel at top speed, but Laval could see Cragger losing ground. “Overestimating your Speedor, I see,” Laval joked. “First one back to the Crocodile Courtyard wins?” “You got it!” With the garage in sight, Laval made it past Cragger and pushed his vehicle to its maximum, allowing him to get into the garage first. He forced his Speedor to stop, making a skidding noise as it ground to a halt. A second later, Cragger followed, his Speedor making a similar screeching noise. Laval hopped off his Speedor and ran for the Crocodile Courtyard, but in no time, Cragger was right beside him too. “You’re going to lose, Cragger!” Laval jeered. “Think again, Laval!” The two of them made it to the Crocodile Courtyard, panting and sweating, and made for the tree at its centre. Almost got it, Laval thought, his hand reaching out to touch the tree. Seeing Cragger just as close as he was, Laval sprung forward, crashing into the tree a second before Cragger’s hand touched it. Laval fell onto the grass surrounding the tree and rolled onto his back. “Laval? You alright?” Laval was laughing uncontrollably, writhing on the ground. Upon seeing him, Cragger began chuckling, and soon, he was doing the same. “You know,” Laval said, sitting up and panting, “sometimes I still think about the good old days.” Cragger chuckled and sat down next to him. “You mean before all this nonsense? Before I was going to be the Crown Prince, and before you were going to become an advisor?” Laval nodded. “Or Kingsguard. I still remember the games we played at the Forever Rock,” Laval said wistfully. “That old thing?” Cragger scoffed. “That piece of rock has been in Chima since the gods themselves walked on the earth!” Laval laughed too, but in truth, he missed it. The small, grey, much-eroded stone was embedded at the cliffs south of the Lion Temple and overlooking the Sapphire Sea. When the then-Lord Crominus often came to visit Lagravis, Cragger would play with Laval, using the Forever Rock as a fort, a shield, or whatever else. “Remember,” Laval could still hear his father say, “if you can’t see the rock, then you’re too close to the cliffs.” Laval and Cragger would nod obediently and then run off, following the path to the edge of the world. They would spar with branches, chase each other around or wrestle, but it didn’t matter. The worst part of their playdates was the end. Laval sighed deeply. “Life was simpler then, wasn’t it?” he murmured, lifting his arm up to block the sun shining down on them. He could almost hold it. “Yes. It was.” The two friends lay in silence for a little until a voice called out. “Cragger! Father needs you.” Crooler was there, no doubt for a while before she had spoken. “What? Now?” “Want me to go back and ask again?” Cragger sighed. “No, it’s alright. I’ll be right there, Crooler.” He turned back to face Laval. “Sorry. Princely duties, I guess.” Laval chuckled and stood up. “I get it. You know, that bit about the greater good really got me thinking. You’ll make a great king someday, Cragger.” The crocodile prince smiled before turning to take his leave. That was a good workout, thought Laval. Time to get some rest. I’ll need it for tomorrow. Laval could scarcely sleep through the night. His mind was flooded with thoughts and questions about what his training would actually entail. Will my teacher be nice, or rude? Will I relearn the basics, or go right into it? And most frequently, will Father approve? Laval had set a candle with several firestarters at the end, timed so that they would go off with a bang half an hour before sunrise. When it went off, Laval was sleepy. He had managed an hour or two of slumber before his makeshift alarm went off, and now, he had thirty minutes to get ready and get going. He threw on his tunic, his kilt and his crown before grabbing his sword. No point in wearing my cloak, he thought. He left his room and made for the Crocodile Courtyard in good time, arriving five minutes before he was supposed to. Other than behind the tree, there was nowhere for someone to hide. Laval walked all the way around the tree and checked his surroundings, but the pillars which held up the castle around them hid no warriors. Is this a joke? Is this Father’s way of telling me that I’ll never make it? Laval was about to leave when he heard a cough. “Ahem,” a voice said. Laval turned. There was still no one. “Up here, lion prince,” the voice said. Laval looked up at the tree and saw a gorilla up on a branch. The gorilla had dark brown fur and light green markings on his forehead and cheeks. “I'm not a prince,” Laval said. He wasn't amused at the prospect of having a gorilla teach him how to fight. “Who are you, anyway? I was promised a true warrior to teach me how to become a Kingsguard,” he said. “That’s me.” The gorilla leaped down from the tree and walked up to Laval. “My name is Gunter. I’ll be your teacher.” “You?” Laval scoffed. “But you’re a—” “A gorilla? Is that what you were going to say?” Laval decided to tread carefully. “I only meant that the gorillas were a peaceful tribe. You’re pacifists, aren’t you?” “Just because we don’t fight doesn’t mean we don’t know how. You wanted a teacher, right? I’m it.” Laval sighed and drew his Valious. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with.” The gorilla chuckled. “We’re going to fight right here?” “I think you’re not a fighter. You say you are. Why do we find out who’s really the master here?” “Just because someone can beat someone else doesn’t mean they’re a master,” Gunter replied. Before Laval could shoot an insult, he added, “But I am better than you.” Laval looked at the gorilla’s bare shoulders. “You don’t even have a weapon,” he said. Is this guy crazy? If he had a sword, then it’d be a fair fight, but he’s using his bare hands. Is he asking to get hurt? “I don’t need one.” “Alright.” Laval darted forward with his Valious, intending to hit Gunter with the flat part of his blade. The gorilla didn’t flinch. Instead, he caught the blade with his hands, holding it steadily away from his chest. “How—” The gorilla twisted his hands, wrenching the sword out of Laval’s hands. Laval watched as his blade flew in the sky, not seeing the gorilla in front of him until he was two inches away. Crap! Laval moved sideways before trying to catch the gorilla with his arms to push him back, but Gunter slid under his arms and grabbed his legs. In one swift motion, he flipped Laval onto his back before sitting on top of him, holding him down with his hands and his prehensile feet. “Ow!” Laval could barely breathe. “Who’s the master, little lion?” asked Gunter. “Let me go!” Laval squirmed and jerked around, but Gunter’s grip was stronger than his. “Who?” he demanded. “Alright, alright! You are!” Laval frantically tapped Gunter’s feet, and he released his grip before rolling off. The gorilla had a smile on his face. “That’s your first lesson, Laval,” he said. “Huh?” “Respect. We’ll resume tomorrow. I expect you’ll keep an open mind about my techniques from now on.” “We haven’t even been here for ten minutes!” “It doesn’t take long to teach. It takes a lifetime to learn.” Laval trudged away from the courtyard, feeling equal parts frustrated and disappointed. It’s not his place to do that to me, he thought. Who is he, anyway? Who the hell hired him? Still, he could do nothing more today, so he decided to go practice on his own. He went past the Crocodile Courtyard to the training area, near the dungeons. Like the Crocodile Courtyard, the training area was a square, but it was empty inside and covered in dirt and gravel. The surrounding dungeons looked imposing enough; what could be seen from the outside was grey stone, cracked in some places, and rusted bars. It was dark in the dungeons, and very few people were held there nowadays. After looking around and making sure that no one was there to watch, Laval drew his sword and began practicing his sword movements. When he was younger, he had seen the Lion Guard train on this very spot, and had learned various movements. He slashed diagonally, pulled back, and jabbed forward. Then, he sidestepped, slashed again and ducked under an imaginary enemy’s blow before stabbing the air. He repeated it fifteen times before his arms and legs began to feel sore. That’s training, he thought. Not whatever the hell Gunter was teaching me. Yet he found himself returning to the Crocodile Courtyard the next day. “Good to see you, little lion,” said Gunter cheerily from the treetop. “Have you learned the first lesson?” “Yes, I have,” he replied. “Excellent,” the gorilla said as he leapt down from the tree. “Then we will begin the second lesson.” “And what lesson is that?” “Breathing.” Laval scoffed. “Ah, so you already know what breathing is?” “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m alive. I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on it.” “Ask a fisherman to catch a fish, and you will not be disappointed. But how many fishermen truly know what fishing is?” What’s he talking about? “Show me how you breathe, Laval,” commanded Gunter. “I’m doing it right now,” said Laval, irritated. “I can’t hear you,” taunted Gunter. Grumbling, Laval took deep breaths in and out to satisfy his teacher. After about three inhalations and exhalations, Gunter shook his head. “No, no, no. You’re doing it wrong.” Then how am I alive? he thought rebelliously. “When you breathe,” said the gorilla, “you should breathe from your core. I can see that your breath makes your stomach rise and fall.” “Yeah, isn’t that normal?” “Yes. But being normal isn’t good enough to be a Kingsguard.” Fair enough, Laval thought. “So I’m supposed to force my stomach not to move?” “We should never force our bodies to do anything, little lion,” replied Gunter. “I’m not a little lion,” growled Laval. “I’m the second son of Lord Lagravis, First Advisor to the King! You will treat me with respect!” “Respect? So you have learned the first lesson. Alright, Laval,” he said. “Here is your practice: you will stand here until the sun sets and focus on your breathing.” “What?” “Did I speak too softly?” “I was going to go to the market for supper this evening!” “Not anymore. You will stand here and breathe in the following manner: three counts in, three counts of holding, and three counts out. Again and again, until you can no longer see the sun. Then, I will see you tomorrow for our next lesson. Goodbye!” Gunter began walking away, leaving Laval behind. How am I supposed to stand here for hours? What if I have to relieve myself? Or eat? Muttering to himself, Laval unsheathed his Valious, put it on the ground and stood still, focusing on his breathing. Three in, three hold, three out. Three in, three hold, three out. Three in, three hold, three out. Laval continued for three hours until about midday, when he finally lost it. “To hell with this!” he shouted out loud. Who does he think he is, making me stand here for Cavora knows how long just to breathe? I’m hungry, I have to pee, and I’m pissed off. Laval picked up his Valious and looked around, making sure that Gunter wasn’t hiding somewhere. When he was sure there was no one around him, he decided to go to his room and have the servants bring him lunch. That idiot probably won’t even realize I left, he thought. I’ll just breathe in for three a few times to show him tomorrow, just to prove him wrong. Laval stayed in his room for the rest of the day, lying down, occasionally eating and polishing his sword. When he went to sleep that night, his new way of breathing eased him into a restful sleep, recharging him for the next day’s lesson. But when he arrived in the Crocodile Courtyard, no one was there. Laval looked around the courtyard; he even looked up the tree. There was nobody. “Gunter?” he shouted. When there was no response, he tried a different tack. “Master?” Still, only silence replied. When he was sure that no one would come, Laval turned around to go somewhere else when Gunter’s voice rang out. “Did you see how that felt, Laval?” He whipped around to see Gunter leaning against the tree. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “How the hell did you get here?” “I was here the whole time,” the gorilla replied. “I expected you to leave for a bit to urinate, or maybe to get some food,” he continued, “but I didn’t take you for a quitter.” “I’m not a quitter,” Laval said, his eyes narrowing. “I beg to differ. You left, Laval. You said you’d be here and you weren’t. So I did the same to you this morning. It’s not fun, is it.” “Just what is your problem, gorilla?” Laval demanded. “Do you enjoy making yourself feel superior? Is that it? Or did my father find you just to make me suffer? To rob me of my desire of becoming a Kingsguard?” “Your father did hire me, Laval. In person.” I knew it! “But I know nothing about your feuds, whatever they may be. All Lagravis told me was that you wanted to become a Kingsguard, and that he wanted me to be your teacher. Now, I’m not forcing you to take lessons from me. The choice is yours, as it always was. I only ask that if you choose to remain with me, you follow my rules without question. Is that a fair thing to ask?” All traces of sarcasm and mockery were gone from Gunter’s face. Laval mulled it over for a while before responding. I have been acting like a jerk. If Father hired him, I guess he should know what he’s doing. “Alright, Gunter. I suppose that’s fair.” The gorilla smiled, and Laval smiled back. “Good. It seems you’ve finally learned the first lesson,” he said. “Now, onto lesson two—” “Breathing?” Laval cut in. “Yes, Laval! Good job! You’ll be a Kingsguard in no time.” “With a teacher like you?” said Laval, smiling without irony. “I don’t doubt it.”
The Nine Hells of Baator: I made the layers unique with themes v2
After my last post (https://www.reddit.com/DnDBehindTheScreen/comments/ic37lo/the_nine_hells_of_baator_made_the_layers_unique/) got so much positive feedback, I decided to flesh out things even more. I wanted to add additional Archdevils that were not part of my first post. Therefore, I had to redo some of the ones I posted before. You can either use the old one or this one, whichever you prefer. As mentioned before, I am preparing a campaign set in the 9 hells of Baator. And reading through the material (special thanks to kami1996 who did a fantastic work bringing the nine hells to life in the Atlas of the Planes), the layers felt very samey, Fierna and Glasya are nearly indistinguishable, etc. The goal was to make each layer as distinct as possible by applying a theme to each layer while still staying as close to the source material as possible. So I came up with these different descriptions for each layer.
Layer
General look
Earth
Elevations
Water
Vegetation
Avernus
Battling waste
Basalt/bones/skulls
Meteor Craters
Rivers/lakes of blood
Thorn bushes
Dis
City
Metal and Concrete
Skyscrappers
acid
None
Minaurus
Nature
Clay, humus, peat
Thick jungles/giant trees
oily brown swamps
rotten trees/bushes
Phelgetos
Fire
Obsidian/Brimstone
Volcanoes
Rivers of lava/ fire
Stygia
Cold Water
Ice
Icebergs
Dark blue Ocean
Algae and seaweed
Malbolge
Living
slate covered by flesh
giant bones, abscesses
bodily secretions
Hair, bones, teeth
Maladomini
Decay
Marble
Ruins
filth, excrement
withered plants
Cania
Freezing Mountains
glaciers and snow
Mountain ranges
Ice
Crystaline trees
Nessus
Hot Deep Pit
Limestone
Giant Stalagmite
Deepest Black
Fungus
Layer
Air
Smells
Sounds
Precipitation
Sky
Avernus
brown smoke
Dead bodies
Eternal fighting
Meteor showers
red
Dis
Thick grey smog
Exhausts
Construction
Acid rain
no sky visible
Minaurus
humid green fog
Pestilence
Animals dying
Oily razor-sharp hail
very bright yellow
Phelgetos
yellow haze
Sulphur, burned flesh
Screams
green lightning
black
Stygia
clear
salty water
Silence
none
clear blue
Malbolge
very humid
sweat/blood
wet gurgling/munching
bodily secretions
pink
Maladomini
arid
stench of filth
flies buzzing
dust storms
green
Cania
thin air, white fog
Ice and snow
Wind blowing
Blizzards
White with a blue sun
Nessus
Mirages
Moist caves
Rattle of chains
Hot rain
Deep purple
Now I came up with a purpose for each one. I like to think that Asmodeus planned the 9 Hells to become a paradise. He wanted to show the gods how he would create an utopia. So everything should serve a higher purpose and work together. At least in theory:
Layer
Theme
Purpose
Basis of Economy
Home of
Common Non-Devils
Avernus
Battlefield
Defence
Mercenaries
Bearded devils
All different kinds
Dis
Industry
Industry
Weapons
Bone devils
Constructs
Minaurus
Exploitation
Trade
Resources
Barbed devils
Wererats
Phelegtos
Pain
Justice
Punishment
Chain devils
Succubi and Incubi
Stygia
Memories
Graveyard
Archives
Amnizu
Hydroloths
Malbolge
Addiction
Entertainment
Narcotics
Erynnies
Rakshasas
Maladomini
Bureaucracy
Education
Waste Disposal
Horned devils
Oozes
Cania
Arcana
Research
Magic
Ice devils
Frost giants
Nessus
Dominion
Government
Tithe
Pit fiends
None
Next is a description of some interesting locations to visit on each layer. Most of the locations can be found on the forgotten realms wiki (https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Nine_Hells) or in the posts made by kami1996 . The ones marked with an asterisk are new inventions and I tried to name them as good as possible. If you find some of the names corny or have better ideas, please comment.
Layer
Location
Purpose
Description
Avernus
Zariel's Fortress
Home of Zariel
Giant Flying Fortress
Bel's Forge
Home of Bel
Volcano
Wandering Emporium
Market and Bazar
Travels between Avernus and Material Plane
Styx' Watchtower
Watchtower
Protect Styx and Hells from demons
Stygian Dock
Maintenance
The flying fortresses/machines need fuel
Various
Home of Warlords
Infernal War Machines and Fortresses
Dis
The Iron Tower
Home of Dispater
Can be seen everywhere in Dis
Acid Lake and Giant Wall
Fortification
Acid moat and giant wall surrounds city
Mentiri
Prison and Police
Criminals get here their control collars
Anivillus*
Greatest Factory
Factory for largest infernal war machines
Necromunda*
Greatest Hive
Slaves live and die here, shoving coal in furnace
Skyweb*
Calculation center
Titivilus and Lilis use it to predict future
Various
Bazars and markets
Weapons, armours, machines
Minaurus
The Sinking City
Main City
Home of Mammon's Palace and Coin Mint
Mammon's Palace
Treasury
Deep in under City, covered by swamp
House of Gold*
Coin Mint
Where the infernal coins are produced
Soul Market*
Greatest Market
Where everything can be bought, even souls
Blight City*
Home of Wererats
Connected to many other planes by tunnels
Veku Tree*
Giant rotten tree
Black resin oozes out and spreads illnesses
Various
Giant Excavators
Surface Mining, some are rusty and overgrown
Phelegtos
Abriymoch
Main City
Home of Fierna and Belial
Hall of the Righteous*
Infernal Court
Supreme Court of all hell
Pit of Flame
Place of torture
Where petitioners and devils are tortured
Jittering Hiter
Home of Chain Devils
Was once in Minauros, now in Phlegetos
Blackheart*
Combat Arena
Some are punished to fight to the death
Shriver
Soul extraction
Purified souls are processed to Stygia/Minauros
Various
Small Settlements
Hunt down and capture escapees
Stygia
Tantlin
Main City
Build around Tomb of Levistus
Tomb of Levistus
Home of Levistus
Here Levistus is imprisoned forever
Great Memory*
Archives
Underwater archives of hell run by Amnizu
Dasperan*
Imprisonment
Powerful Demons are imprisoned forever
Gloreia*
Remembrance
Devils can sponsor sculptures to show worth
Exibitar*
Art Market
Outsiders visit through Styx and trade
Various
Small settlements
Small towns of people with no memory
Malbolge
Ossiea
Main City
Fortress of Glasya
Hair Forest
Labyrinth
Surrounds Ossiea
Tower of Pain
Punishment
Place of pain and joy
The Garden of Delights*
Pleasure
Be trapped forever
Palace of Splendour*
Treasury
Take the wrong coin and be transformed
Circque Desolat*
Entertainment
Circus and freak show
Various
Small settlements
Addicts indulge their desires
Maladomini
Malagard
Main City
Home of Palace of Filth
Palace of Filth
Palace of Baalzebul
Covered in excrements, full of treasures
House of Madness*
Bureaucracy
Try to get permit A38, I dare you
Carnival Eternal
Ancient ruin
Run-down and grotesque amusement park
Offalion
Diplomacy
School for hell politics
Grenpoli
Treachery
School for bargaining with mortals
Toxic Wastes*
Landfill
Leaking barrels in poisonous swamp
Various
Ruins
Relicts of ancient great cities
Cania
Mephistar
Main City
Home of Court of Mephistopheles
Court of Mephistopheles
Palace of Meph.
Built of ice
School of Hellfire
Research facility
Everything is kept secret, students get killed
Frost Gardens
Meeting Ground
Mesmerizing and beautiful ice sculptures
Nebulat
Home of Ice Devils
They try to invent the "plume" to rival hellfire
The Pit
Connection to Nessus
Guarded by 9999 Ice devils
Various
Mining Colonies
Looking for frozen Lemures
Nessus
Malsheem
Main City
Largest City in outer planes
Fortress Nessus
Home of Asmodeus
Government of all hells
Forgotten Lake
Styx in Nessus
Its existence is surrounded by myth
Tabjari
Citadel of copper
Contains one of three copies of Pact Primeval
Serpent's Coil
Deepest rift
Myths say that here sleeps the true Asmodeus
Bensozia's Rest*
Mausoleum
Here lie the remains of Asmodeus' wife
Various
Military camps
Millions of devils held in reserve for end times
Now that we have important locations, let's look at the inhabitants. I imagine hell as the opposite of paradise. In Christian mythology, hell is the place furthest away from gods love. It is an awful place because the sins of the devils turn good things bad. Or in other words: the road to hell is paved with good intentions. So I tried to use this idea as much as possible. I imagine that in a parallel world all of the Archdevils could be Archangels. That they could be paragons. But their flaws corrupted them and created hell, where they punish themselves (and others). I also tried to tie their desires and their failings to themes that are related to the layer. One major difficulty was Fierna and Glasya. They were too similar. Each with overbearing fathers, no real power, promiscuous, had something to do with law and punishment, etc. I tried make them more distinct. Fierna, still a sexy she-devil, is in complete charge of her layer, including her father. She tries to bend the law because everyone is a sinner in her eyes. She is punishment incarnate and demands nothing but total obedience. She will use every tool to break you, including seduction and emotional control. Then she will rebuilt you and you will become her willing slave and maybe one of her favorite pets. Glasya is more about excess and indulgence. She is a rebel by heart and hates her controlling father. She would do anything to piss him off. She wants you to free your mind, to explore your senses in every way. She will never condemn you except when you hold back. She sees it as her duty to fulfill your wishes. And every time she does so, your desires will become more and more extreme. So, here is a list with the most important devils and citizens of hell. And yes, before you ask, I ate one thesaurus after the other.
Layer
Name
Race
Position
Short summary
Avernus
Zariel
Archdevil
Master of Avernus
Fallen Angel, hates demons
Haruman
Narzugon
General of Zariel
Followed Zariel voluntarily
Olanthius
Death Knight
General of Zariel
Suicide but was resurrected
Bel
Archdevil
Second to Zariel
Knows what to do but afraid to act
Tiamat
Godess
God of Dragons
Dragons rather fight each other
Arkhan the Cruel
Dragonborn
Priest of Tiamat
Wants to free Tiamat from Avernus
Dis
Dispater
Archdevil
Master of Dis
Paranoid Iron Duke
Titilivus
Archdevil
Second to Dispater
Feeds Dispaters paranoia
Lilis
Archdevil
Consort of Dispater
Spymaster with large network
Helob
Construct
Fabrication Manager
Comes from Mechanus
Minaurus
Mammon
Archdevil
Master of Minauros
Wants money and Glasya
Focalor
Archdevil
Second to Mammon
Wants Mammon but gets none
Glwa
Erinyes
Consort of Mammon
Wants to replace Glasya but fails
Bael
Archdevil
General of Mammon
Brutally sacrifices his soldiers
Melchon
Cambion
Head of Soul Market
Cheats everyone
Phelegtos
Fierna
Archdevil
Master of Phlegetos
Subjugates your body and soul
Cenobar
Chain Devil
Grand Tormentor
Best Torturer of all of Baator
Zapan
Pit Fiend
Stewart of Fierna
Gives Fierna all the attention
Galgub
Amnizu
Master of Duels
Lords over Gladiator Pit
Belial
Archdevil
Infernal Judge
Lusts for Fierna and she uses it
Balan
Narzugon
Attorney General
There is no innocence. Ever.
Gaziel
Amnizu
Devils Advocate
Being guilty is a virtue
Stygia
Levistus
Archdevil
Master of Stygia
Imprisoned and has given up
Erridon Alaka
Ice Devil
Second to Levistus
Mind-linked to Levistus
Zanth
Amnizu
Master of Memory
Oversees the Archives
Geryon
Archdevil
Renegade
If I cannot have it, I destroy it
Harchura
Ice Devil
Artist
Makes your statue and kills you
Agares
Amnizu
Second to Geryon
Sides with anyone to be master
Malbolge
Glasya
Archdevil
Master of Malbolge
Lady of excess and pleasures
Tartach
Archdevil
Second to Glasya
Likes how Glasya rules
Gerlor
Tiefling
Consort to Glasya
Supplier of drugs; long time associate
Kalha
Cambion
Master of Ceremony
Best parties in all hell
Malagarde
Night Hag
Is now Malbolge
Wanted everything then ate it
Moloch
Imp
Exiled but came back
Listened to Malagarde, twice
Maladomini
Baalzebul
Archdevil
Master of Maladomini
Wants so much but does nothing
Lilith
Archdevil
Consort of Baalzebul
Good with numbers
Baftis
Erinyes
Head of Grenpoli
Wants Baalzebul for herself
Neabaz
Archdevil
Spreader of mandates
Wants to make Layer great again
Cania
Mephistopheles
Archdevil
Master of Cania
Thinks he knows everything
Baalphegor
Archdevil
Consort of Mephisto.
Thinks she knows something
Quagrem
Pit Fiend
Head of University
Knows Hellfire and kills students
Hutijin
Pit Fiend
Protector of Cania
Thinks Mephistopheles is a god
Bele
Narzugon
Justicar of Cania
Only Law is true, all else flawed
Adonides
Ice Devil
Steward of Cania
Studies the mortal world
Nessus
Asmodeus
Archdevil
Master of all devils
Fell and wanted to create Utopia
Bensozia
Archdevil
Consort of Asmodeus
Wanted to help and got killed
Baalberith
Pit Fiend
Major domo of Palace
Wants to please master too much
Adramalech
Archdevil
Chancellor of Hell
Cannot let things be
Layer
Archdevil
Good at
Fails at
Because of
Results in
Avernus
Zariel
Conquest
Order
Wrath
Chaos
Haruman
Victory
Control
Indignation
Strife
Olanthius
Subjugation
Discipline
Disloyalty
Insubordination
Bel
Strategy
Peace
Cowardice
War
Tiamat
Cunning
Unity
Distrust
Discord
Arkhan the Cruel
Plotting
Alliance
Rage
Division
Dis
Dispater
Fabrication
Ingenuity
Paranoia
Unimaginativeness
Titilivus
Calculation
Optimism
Pedantic
Pessimism
Lilis
Information
Progress
Secretiveness
Stagnation
Helob
Construction
Invention
Inflexibility
Imitation
Minaurus
Mammon
Trade
Love
Greed
Emptiness
Focalor
Negotiation
Friendship
Moroseness
Loneliness
Glwa
Exploitation
Harmony
Appeasement
Imbalance
Bael
Capitalizing
Brotherhood
Callousness
Malevolence
Melchon
Exchange
Trust
Cheating
Distrust
Phelegtos
Fierna
Manipulation
Righteousness
Intolerance
Depravity
Cenobar
Torture
Innocence
Sadism
Immorality
Zapan
Punishment
Honesty
Bigotry
Falseness
Galub
Censure
Purity
Cruelty
Impurity
Belial
Judgement
Justice
Lust
Injustice
Balan
Accusation
Neutrality
Fervour
Prejudice
Gaziel
Accusation
Fairness
Solicitude
Unfairness
Stygia
Levistus
Remembrance
Freedom
Despair
Imprisonment
Erridon Alaka
Memory
Emancipation
Fickleness
Enslavement
Zanth
Honor
Independency
Inflexibility
Dependency
Geryon
Fame
Forgiveness
Envy
Vengeance
Harchura
Reputation
Mercy
Loathing
Retribution
Agares
Glory
Hope
Arrogance
Hopelessness
Malbolge
Glasya
Diplomacy
Satisfaction
Rebelliousness
Excess
Tartach
Tact
Happiness
Adoration
Debauchery
Gerlor
Suavity
Decency
Recklessness
Euphoria
Kalha
Entertainment
Humility
Abusiveness
Exuberance
Malagarde
Trickery
Ambition
Gluttony
Burnout
Moloch
Survival
Protection
Disobedience
Exile
Maladomini
Baalzebul
Administration
Creation
Sloth
Decay
Lilith
Accounting
Beauty
Apathy
Filth
Mysdemn
Organisation
Rebirth
Frustration
Inefficiency
Baftis
Logistics
Artistry
Correctness
Crudeness
Neabaz
Proclamation
Renewal
Resentment
Destruction
Cania
Mephistopheles
Knowledge
Enlightenment
Hubris
Superstition
Baalphegor
Intelligence
Truth
Frustration
Delusion
Quagrem
Science
Education
Selfishness
Ignorance
Hutijin
Lore
Faith
Infatuation
Idolatry
Bele
Expertise
Believe
Stubbornness
Disbelieve
Adonides
Research
Guidance
Unimaginative
Disorientation
Nessus
Asmodeus
Supremacy
Paradise
Faithlessness
Hell
Bensozia
Sovereignty
Utopia
Doubt
Nightmare
Baalberith
Ascendency
Perfection
Anxiousness
Imperfection
Adramalech
Domination
Excellence
Spitefulness
Inferiority
Ok, now that this is done, let's go into detail:
Avernus
Avernus is a black waste where rocks, stones and meteors fall like rain from the sky. Huge Craters dominate the landscape. The Styx mixes itself with the blood of the victims and runs like veins through the layer. Zariel rules here and her soldiers are well trained and disciplined. As such, they are highly sought after, be it the lords and gods of other planes or the other lords of the nine. Which is good as she needs all the money she can get to keep the machines of war running. She promises victory, conquest, and martial prowess to her followers. Still, the irony is not lost: Avernus is the only layer not united and fully controlled by their lord. Independent warbands roam the layer in infernal machines and try to carve dukedoms out for themselves. The reason she cannot succeed is her wrath which consumes and blinds her. All she wants is to strike down demons and has no mind for logistics and political intricacies. An former angel herself, she doesn't understand that devils don't want to fight in Baator if they can avoid it. Why risk your immortality in some meat grinder when you can use yugoloths or hags? Of course, devils do what they are ordered. But they stick to the letter not the intention. Hold the position at any cost is a very malleable phrase. This cowardice stems from Bel, the former duke of Avernus. Sitting in his forge, he thinks of all the things that need to be done, but he is too afraid to act. Even when he was lord of the 1st, he was never really in charge, only tolerated by the Dark Eight, Asmodeus' warmasters. Now he waits for a sign of Asmodeus or anyone else that his time might have come again and he would finally bring peace to Avernus. But to no avail. There is only war.
Dis
Once you follow the large tracks left by the infernal war machines to a cave and step through the portal that connects Avernus to Dis, you see a gigantic city located in the middle of a acid lake, surrounded by impossible high walls. This is the city of Dis. As you step closer, you find yourself suddenly in the middle of its streets. Although some of them are broad enough to fit the war machines, they are lined with impossibly high buildings. And every second they seem to close on you. You feel a claustrophibic dread between these gigantic structures that seem to be designed by brutal architects with a weird sense of beauty but none for scale. You try to look up but you get dizzy as you see that the tops are lost in the smog clouds that hang in the air. It smells of burned coal and demolition waste. The dust makes it nearly impossible to breath. From time to time acidic rain clears the sky and burns the flesh of everyone that doesn't take cover. Then you glimpse the eternally burning exhausts of innumerable furnaces and factories, where not only the weapons for the blood war are forged but also the gigantic infernal war machines are created. These are technological marvels that rival those of Mechanus and are overseen by one of its children, a construct named Helob. In this strangely calculated realm, everything bows to the iron rule of Dispater. He sends legions of his constructs that resemble metal skeletons into the streets. Accompanied by flying sensors and commanded by loyal bone-devils, they search for any sign of disobedience. Paranoid, he doesn't trust anyone but his automatons and his most loyal devils. For Dispater, Flesh is weak. Steel is strong. While he upgrades his underlings with artificial limbs, those that have broken his laws are implanted pain chips and thrown in the bellies of the factories, where they shovel coal to fire the hungry furnaces. Dispater dreams of the perfect city, of innovation, progress and scientific discoveries. So he takes the greatest engineers and the best inventors that the mortal planes have to offer and uses them for his purposes. But the paranoia runs deep in his veins. They could think of a way to trick him. So they must be closely watched. They must be controlled. Tightly. Failure is not accepted. A tragedy, for free thinking and the ability to make mistakes is the basis for every research and innovation, the things he craves so much. He wants others to marvel at his achievements. But instead, they laugh at him. Or at least, that is what he thinks. For Dispater feels every friendly jab as a deep burn. So he retires in solitude and barricades himself behind iron gates and metal walls. Here, Titivlus feeds his paranoia. This manipulative fiend creates conflicts that wouldn't even exist to show that he is the only one able to solve them. Lilis, Dispaters consort and head of the greatest spy-network in hell, knows of these machinations. She tries to warn Dispater regularly, but has lost a lot of good-will recently when she couldn't predict the Hag Countess' demise and Glasya's promotion.
Minaurus
Contrasting the artificiality of Dis is the nature of Minaurus. The layer is covered in giant swamps and bogs surrounded by impassable thicket and jungles. Undead or sick animals roam under rotten trees and attack intruders that have not already been consumed by flesh eating plants. Here, Mammon reigns supreme, the archdevil of wealth and greed. Deep at his core, he yearns for love and affection. Once, he had hoped that Glasya might fill his internal void. Glwa, Mammons newest cosort, who looks exactly like Glasya, tries her best to comfort him but she is too eager. She always wants to please him, which just annoys Mammon to no end. Also Focalor, his second in command, is unusually loyal to his master and seeks nothing but his companionship. But Mammon has long been blinded by the radiance of gold. Mammon's sole interest left is the search for material wealth. He seeks to possess all the coins, jewels, art, and magic items in existence. He even exchanges souls for riches. Then, deep within his palace in his private treasury, he buries them so that no other might ever enjoy their beauty. And his layer is the same. Below, under all the fiendish and deadly nature, lie resources of unknown wealth: coal, oil, metals, gemstones of every kind and size can be found. But Minaurus doesn't let you get them. Plants regrow at an alarming rate and cover up your progress. Razor-sharp hail will tear your flesh from your bones or destroy your digging machines. Many have tried to access the wealth below but only one constantly manages to succeed: Dispaters engines, for the Iron City hungers! Giant Machines with pumps and flamethrowers drink the swamps and burn the plants while colossal drills tear massive wounds in the layers crust. But do not worry, Mammon gets his fair share. But one must be careful. If something breaks and the engines stop, nature is taking its revenge. So is the layer littered with carcasses of these colossal excavators, half swallowed by the moors. But Minaurus is not only a place of nature. In the middle of the largest swamp, fixed by massive chains to surrounding trees is the city of Minaurus. There, the coin mint is located and the largest Bazaar of all the lower planes. At the Soul market, lead by Melchon, everything can be bought for gold: slaves but especially souls. As long as you pay Mammon first. Rumors are that there exists a group of wererats that live deep within Minaurus under the protection of Mammon. These vermin of the planes burrow tunnels from their city of blight through the astral sea and ambush all the planes that they may reach. Their goal is to get all the valuables they can get and trade it for souls. Why they need the souls is not quite clear. But maybe this is just a myth.
Phlegetos
This is the layer of eternal damnation, of fire and brimstone, of pain and punishment. Here, the souls of those petitioners are brought that do not follow the lawful evil ideals. They are tortured till only obedience and hate remain. Only then are they thrown into the Styx to forget every memory they ever possessed. Later they leave the river on their assigned plane, reborn as lemures. While the torture is not really necessary, it increases the quality of the product and the patrons, with whom these doomed individuals signed their contracts, persist on this service. Driven by zealotry, Cenobar and his Chain Devils from the Jingling Hiter enjoy their terrible duty. They relish the cries of the tormented and think of new ways to hurt their victims. But punishment is not reserved for mortals. Also devils that broke the law need correction. The severity of their sentence is decided by Belial, the infernal judge, who knows the laws of devils and the planes better than any being except Asmodeus. Advised by Balan and Gaziel, he decides about demotions, exile, torture, death, or the worst of all punishments: the deletion of their achievements from the records of Stygia. Because devils might get killed, but if they are also forgotten, then they are truly dead. Like all other Archdevils, also Belial falls victim to his sin, his lust. It is so easy to abuse your position to sentence some a little less than others for a certain price. Especially those of beauty. And the most beautiful is his own daughter, Fierna. Oh, and she knows. Grace made flesh, she uses her advantage every time they meet. She loves how Belial falls victim to her games and how easy she can manipulate the old devil to get every one of her wishes. But her wishes are humble. She only wants utter devotion from everyone. For her, everyone is a sinner and needs to be punished. There is no innocence, only degrees of guilt. But don't worry, she knows how to redeem yourself. Like the puppies that surround her throne. Kept at a leash, they battle each other to be the first to fulfill the wishes she never even uttered. Once they might have been devils or mortals. It doesn't matter. They belong to her now. Like you will. Once she has broken you. First comes the pain. You try to oppose it. There is still hope, isn't there? A friendly voice in the night? A key, just out of reach? And then there is the opportunity. You grab the key, open the door. And you find yourself in the next torture chamber where chain devils already wait for you. And you realize that the friendly voice was one of the jailers all along.
Stygia
The river Styx erases the memories of all that drink from him. And nowhere in the nine hells is its magic as strong as in the great ocean of Stygia. It is hard to concentrate and to remember why you came here. Quiet and silent, the layer is filled with a special kind of melancholy. A feeling of hopelessness with no way out. How easy it would be to end it all, to fall into the dark depths and forget that you ever were. Drown your sorrows. Escape it all. But there is no escape for Levistus, the eternally imprisoned. He stands motionless deep in his block of ice with no change of salvation. Once he envied all others for their freedom. But this is gone. There is nothing to hope for. There is just despair. Sometimes he hears minions of Geryon trying to break through the ice and failing. The envy that once tortured Levistus is now Geryon's companion. It sits so deep that he is jealous of one that has lost everything but his life. And Geryon is set on taking even that. He would rather destroy Stygia then bow to Levistus. If only he knew how much Levistus wants him to succeed. How the frozen lord wished that Geryon could end him. He seeks nothing more then to finally feel the sweet embrace of death. But this will never be, so decreed it Asmodeus. All that is left to the lord of Stygia is the past. Once he was a great leader, then came the betrayal and the murder of Asmodeus' wife. With his eidic memory he lives through all of his choices. The only respite are his games. Tasked with granting mortals a way of escape their certain doom, he sometimes takes grim pleasure in trapping them first. He lures adventurers with the promise of treasures to his icy jail where they will be frozen. Then they can choose: sign his contract or stay forever. But these are not the only prisoners of the great iceberg of Tantlin. Deep below there is Dasperan, where the most dangerous foes of Baator are held. Mighty demons that must not be killed, else they are reborn in the Abyss. Kept by chains forged in the fires of Phlegetos and bathed by the magic waters of the Styx, their body and mind shall be trapped for eternity. It is said that at the bottom of the Styx you can find all the memories that it took away. In case of Stygia this might be true. Amnizu, the Styx devils, are immune to its touch. With the help of Hydroloths, they built giant floating structures deep within the ocean. There, large archives of all the signed contracts and of all the deeds and misdeeds of the devils, living and dead, are collected. Also, all available knowledge of their enemies or the mortals planes is stored here. This is the great Memory of Baator. To gain entry is nearly impossible. To gain access to the files, an application form has to be sent to Maladomini and signed. Next, Amnizu will copy the documents and blacken all confidential information before transporting it to the surface. Only then is it possible to view the information. But information is power and a reason why devils from other layers must visit this place every once in a while. And when they visit, they have no choice but to see the great monuments placed on the Gloreia. Located at the entry of Tantlin and overseen by Harchura, devils might be allowed to sponsor a statue sculptured after their own liking to place it there. To qualify for this honor, they must have proven themselves by accomplishing noteworthy deeds. Some of the memorials are made of cheap ice that will soon melt, some are made of more resistant materials. Wood, clay, gold, marble or steel are often used but the richest devils may use diamond, which will last forever. Created by the best artists from different planes, these sculptures are monuments to the achievement of their sponsors. For devils might fear death, but the statues will persist. No one may destroy or desecrate them, except Belial decrees it.
Malbolge
When you first set foot on this layer, you will be confused. Expecting a layer filled with dread, you instead found something that reminds you of the fields of Elysium. Rivers made of milk and honey flow between lush green fields where baked chickens run. Voluptous beauties embrace you and present fountains of wine and beer. What a welcome distraction. Especially now that you realize how tired and hungry you actually are. So, you might as well try one of the presented meals or drinks. Or play a game of cards? Test your luck on a slot machine? Where is the harm. Bliss lances through your body and you experience unknown happiness. You need more. And while you continue, the magic slowly fades and the true face of Malbolge is revealed. Because once, the Moloch ruled this layer. Back then, it was lifeless desert where three suns burned the flesh while hunger and thirst drove its inhabitants to madness. The only source of food were other creatures and all water brought to Malbolge instantly vaporized in the heat. A pitty, because lemures can only hatch from the styx. No matter how many souls Moloch gathered, the birth-rate of lemures remained too low. So he asked his consort, the hag countess Malagard, for advise. She created bags of unholy flesh that would keep the water safe. Finally, lemures were able to grow in large numbers. But as new devils hatched, the citizens of Malbolge realized the captivating taste of their cocoons. Eventually, Moloch was exiled when Malagard advised him to defy Asmodeus and she became the new ruler of the layer. She had always been ambitous and Moloch's demise was long planned. But to rule the layer was not enough. She wanted more. Already addicted to the taste of the cocoons, she wondered if the lemures might taste the same. So she started to consume. Petitioners, devils, mortals. Her hunger was overwhelming, only amplified by the layers nature. She absorbed more and more while cancerous tumors and abscesses started to grow uncontrollably. Today, it is not quite clear were the hag begins and the layer starts. Flesh and skin cover the earth that once was rock, teeth and nails grow at random spots and clusters of hair act as foliage. Eyes without eyelids follow your every step while ears growing everywhere listen. But the worst thing on this horrible layer are the devils and petitioners alike. Bloated figures, half fused to the layer, they eat the flesh, suck on teats and nipples, celebrate lustful orgies and drink rancid smelling pools of secretions while frolicking blissfully. For every new sensation is a new high. But the higher you are the more dulled your senses become. Strange artists form the flesh of their victims as if it was clay, always dissapointed as soon as they finish. They claw their own eyes out because the colors they once saw barely register now. Or they rip their tongoues out, now that they have lost all taste. Those that gamble always win but never succeed. This is the layer of addiction. And in the middle of it lives Glasya, daughter of Asmodeus. She has her chambers in a gigantic skull surrounded by walls of bone. Together with her Steward Tartach and her associates from old, Gerlor and Kalha, she looks down on her subjects lovingly. How beautiful they are, the distorted and writhing bodies who scream in extasy and agony alike. In her realm, everyone is welcome and no one will be judged. Hierarchies only exist to serve the citizens. May they lose themselves in their pleasures until only bliss remains. Know that you will ever be alone again. For all are one. And all are Malbolge.
Maladomini
Once it was the crown jewel of all the layers. A place of ambition and pride. Still, Baalzebul was not content. He wanted more. But perfection is unattainable. The more he pressed, the less motivated his subjects became. They knew that no matter how good their work, they had to redo it all tomorrow. So why try. And they gave in to sloth. What you can do today, you can easily do whenever. Now the layer is a disgusting place full of ruins and filth. The stench of excrement fills the air and stirges fly around in swarms. It is the dumpster of the layers. They pay a high price to unload all their waste into Maladomini. And it would be filled to the brink if not for the layer above. Huge tentacles from Malbolge suck up what they can get to sustain its cancerous life. Maladomini is home of the Grenpoli, where Baftis and her officiers teach the devils how to deal with mortals, while in Offalion the politics of the nine hells are taught. The capital of the layer is Malagard. It consists of labyrinthian structures that deny the laws of physics. Möbius bands connect towers, doors in the ceiling lead to the floor below while water constantly runs up and rooms exhibit angles that cannot exist. This is the home of the adminstration and bureaucracy of the nine hells, the domain of Lilith and her legion of lazy horned devils. They are in charge of applications and forms, of accounts and numbers. They issue permits and count the souls. But there is no art, no beauty, no creativity or efficiency, and, most of all, no hurry. They stick to regulations and rules, without reason or rhyme, unbending and unrelenting. And Baalzebul? The years have not been kind to him. Transformed into a giant slug as punishment during the reckoning, he rarely leaves his Palace of Filth and revels in his hate. He plans his revenge on the other lords and especially Asmodeus. And how to finally regain his honor! But for that, he would have to move. Or do something. Which, lets face it, is really exhausting. Maybe tomorrow. Or, you know, whatever.
Cania
The air is thin and hard to breath. Freezing cold fills your lungs while you stare in the white-out in front of you. Below you snow, above you white sky, razor-sharp ice crystals blow into your face and no amount of clothing can remove the feeling of numbness that crawls under your skin. Welcome to Cania. Miles deep glaciers on top of giant mountains ranges cover this layer. It is so cold that every source of water freezes. Even the Styx is frozen. So it is impossible for the Lemures to reach the river bank. Instead, the get covered by even more ice. So, Mephistopheles, the Lord of this layer, has to employ harvesting companies. In small towns, located in the middle of nowhere, they search for hidden veins of the river. They try to reach them with heated picks and axes. Some of the bigger companies even employ mechanical machines from Dis. The frozen lemures are then often brought to the capital Mephistar by frost giant and goliath tribes. The work is laborious but very well paid. For the Lord of Cania does not lack in wealth. His arcane research is well known even beyond the borders of the Nine Hells. He only seeks the souls of the most powerful mortals: sorcerers, magicians, wizards, warlocks. His goal is to uncover all that is hidden, he searches for enlightenment and the truth beyond. Since ancient times, he considers himself the most intelligent of all devils, so who else might unravel the last mysteries of the cosmos? If not him, who else would be the chosen one? He was born to lead! It is pure circumstance that Asmodeus is still in charge. Asmodeus, he is nothing compared to the almighty wielder of Hellfire and the best Baator ever had to offer! Yes, it is hubris that has taken its hold in mighty Mephistopheles. He dreams of grandeur but is unable to see his faults. His pride is his undoing in every single plot against his master. And Asmodeus is quite entertained.
Nessus
If Cania resembles the highest mountain ranges on the mortal realms, Nessus represents the deepest pits. Hot and humid, the place stinks of rust and stale water. Made of limestone, a cragged surface surrounds the pit where, according to legend, Asmodeus fell from the heavens. Today, there is a huge hollowed-out Stalagmite, the mighty Citadel of Malsheem that serves as the seat of Government to the Nine Hells. Run by Pit fiends, a non-devil is a very rare sight. Only with special allowance by the Lord of the Devils himself, are such creatures welcomed on the layers unholy surface. Asmodeus, whos amibition is so far above the others. He is the dark paragon for every devil. But not only them. When the mortals still dwelt in darkness, he alone took pity. Once an angel called the lightbringer, he explained to them the true nature of the gods. His message was one of self-reliance, of free will and independence. He believed that once the mortals were enlightened, they would go and create the perfect world, free from the shakles of the gods. Free from consequences, the mortals turned on each other and the kingdoms fell, as did the angel. Now calling himself Asmodeus, he blamed the mortals, not his teachings, for the failure. For him, punishment was the only solution and the pact primeaval was signed. Now, he has become a god himself. The god of Heresy. The god of Unbelief. The god of Atheism. He is a false idol to his worshippers, who do not believe but instead are bound by contracts. And still, he is unable to see the truth, blind to a simple realization: there can be no paradise without faith. People need to believe in something more than themselves. And an angel even moreso. This was the original sin that brought him down to Baator and which can never be forgiven. Like all the other Archdevils and Lords of the layers, Asmodeus is not the jailer, he is just the most powerful prisoner. And it is his sin of faithlessness that will forever bind him here.
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Hello friends. My name is Orion, I'm sure you're somewhat familiar with the name by now. I've been content to merely spectate as Joanna posted articles of various incidents that The Institute has dealt with. At her urging, I've taken it upon myself to tell my own story, of how I came to possess the powers that I do, my role in founding The Institute, and in particular: a certain event that took place roughly 7,500 years ago. Said event will, I hope, explain the logic behind my insistence upon Joanna publishing the account of the creatures we call Joy Hunters. My story begins more than five billion years ago, and in another universe. I was born in a town called Runeswood, which does not exist in your universe. As a youth, I was always considered to be exceptionally intelligent. If I applied my mind to anything, I would always achieve the highest results possible. I graduated from Secondary School with the highest grades in the country for someone of that educational level. So it was very very strange to everyone who knew me when I enlisted to join the British Army. There is logic to that, of course. While it's true that I could have chosen any intellectual career path, none of them thrilled me. My gift with knowledge meant that I was never really taxing my mental faculties. I merely had to apply myself to some degree, and anything I didn't know beforehand would very quickly fall into place. I wanted to challenge myself, but mentally that just wasn't proving to be possible, and so I chose to challenge myself physically instead. True enough, I could have chosen the path of martial arts, or various outdoor pursuits, but none of those really serve a purpose beyond entertainment, or some very limited application that many people can go their entire life without making use of. Military service on the other hand, serves a purpose. At least, it served more of a purpose in my universe than it does in yours. While many events in both universes are the same, there are also considerable differences. I will not go into detail however as it diverts from the topic of the story. In the Army, I continued to excel, though not to the same degree that I did academically. Physical fitness is something that anyone can achieve, and so I had competition. Firearm proficiency was just the same. The only places I could excel, similarly to Joanna, were in areas of strategy. Once I had completed training, I was to enter active duty, but my first tour was not at all what I was expecting. There are, as I say, a number of differences between my universe and yours. World War II went on for three years longer in my universe, with Britain and Germany trading strikes with atomic weapons. The Cold War was more of a war than a genital jousting contest. Russia annexing Crimea was just the first step in a bigger conflict, and it was because of that last act that I was expecting to be deployed to Ukraine to bolster the defence against Russia. I never saw a domestic deployment coming. What was about to unfold was something that no-one on Earth could have predicted. I'll strip the details right down to the bare bone since they're not important. It transpired that DARPA had created a device, installed upon a satellite, that could resurrect the dead, for a brief period. They had military applications in mind. Somehow, their systems were infiltrated, the device was activated but not calibrated. It was fired. It did not resurrect Humans, however. It resurrected dinosaurs, of all things, and my first real combat experience was against dinosaurs. To make matters worse, we learned that fossils of dragons had been discovered, and that they too had been resurrected. Events snowballed upon us, and the world was swept up in a five-year battle for survival against dinosaurs and dragons. Eventually that battle came to an end, but as soon as it did, another began. Russian forces swept across the globe like wildfire, sweeping aside our battered and virtually non-existent defences. They'd hidden their armed forces during the five years of hell, expecting us to do the work for them, then taking advantage of our weakened state. They nearly took over the whole world, but we halted their advance at Britain itself. I, who was holding the rank of Field Marshal by this time, led the push back against Russia. It was another five years before this war ended as well. Russia was defeated, the world set free. Peace returned. Ten years passed. No wars were fought since. No conflicts of any kind, really. I had taken up a job as security for Earth Space Administration. There were no real conflicts, but there were still remnants of the last war with Russia, occasional terrorist attacks and the like. ESA had just finished developing their first Deep Space Exploration vessel, one with faster-than-light capabilities. It was due to launch that day, so I was extra alert. I noticed the gap that had appeared in security patrols and investigated immediately. We had an intruder, one who wouldn't hesitate to kill. I tracked them down aboard the vessel; the Excelsior. I was expecting a Russian or North Korean, or maybe someone Chinese. It wasn't. He was Italian, he was Catholic, and he was spouting nonsense about the vessel being an affront to God. He had killed the crew by the time I caught up with him, and was attempting to sabotage the FTL drive. I tried to restrain him, but he was equipped with an Exo: a military-grade exoskeleton which was used in the recent wars, whereas I wasn't. Even so, I was a seasoned military veteran, one who had survived against far greater enemies than a religious nutcase. In the tussle, the FTL drive was initiated, but in its damaged state it wasn't going to function properly. Time seemed to freeze as the Excelsior ripped apart, and the fabric of space and time did as well. The intruder was eviscerated by debris, but I... I ended up in a wormhole. It spat me out in deep space. And yet, I didn't die. I floated in the vacuum of space, but it didn't kill me. I didn't freeze to death, I didn't suffocate, I didn't burst like a balloon. I just drifted in substantial pain for I don't know how long. At some point the pain just faded away. To amuse myself, I tried to see what I could do. Spinning myself drunkenly was very easy, as it turns out. It was entirely by accident that I produced a ball of fire in my right hand. Over time, I discovered many more abilities like that. In the course of my drifting, I came upon a gigantic nebula. I watched as the nebula gradually coalesced to form a star, ten planets, and many more, much smaller objects. It wasn't until I saw one planet collide into another, tilting it off-axis and forming a moon from the debris that I realised I was looking at our Solar System. Even with my abilities, it still took a substantial amount of time for me to enter the Solar System. Doing so caused some inadvertent side effects. Let's just say that I'm the reason that Pluto spends a part of its orbit closer to the sun than Neptune does before swinging back out again. I'm also the reason Saturn has the rings that it does. By the time I finally made it to Earth, the planet was in the height of the Carboniferous Era. I spent most of my time since then surviving the dinosaurs, killing dragons and other monsters, and erasing their existence, along with my own. I didn't want to risk upsetting the fossil record. It wasn't until around forty thousand years ago that I realised I hadn't simply been sent back in time, but into a different universe altogether. I'll admit, the various supernatural monsters I faced should have been a giveaway, but I couldn't rule out that they hadn't existed in my own reality. Just because I never saw them, doesn't mean they weren't there. At any rate, forty thousand years ago I found myself in the Black Sea region. I'd come across a volcanic island which seemed like a decent place to live. Apparently, the local Humans had the same idea. They paid little attention to me, and I to them, for about thirty thousand years. Then they started developing Bronze tools. That set off flags in my mind. This was millennia before the Bronze Age, so how had these guys figured out how to make Bronze tools? As it turns out, the volcano was bringing up lots of Tin and Copper. By chance, the locals had managed to smelt the two and make Bronze. They got very good at it, too. Their woodworking, masonry and other skills were developing fast as well, and the discovery of Bronze accelerated this further. Then it hit me. I had stumbled upon a place that only existed in my world as fiction. I was living in Atlantis. As it turns out, Atlantis was not nearly as mystical as some stories depicted it to be. In fact, the most accurate depiction I know of is the story 'Atlantis' by David Gibbins. Even the location he gave was very close to true. Atlantis was located in the Black Sea, several miles north of Turkey. At the time, the sea levels were much much lower, enough so that the Bosporus would have been a land bridge. Atlantis was able to become advanced for its time due to a culmination of coincidences and ideal factors. The volcano provided fertile soil, as well as plenty of minerals and gems not found elsewhere. There was abundant access to Tin and Copper for Bronze, as well as Gold, obsidian, and marble. Healthy crops could be grown relatively easily and produced high yields of high quality goods. There was ample salt in the region, which had its own value. Fishing was another area that could be used well to enrich the region. There was plenty of lumber for woodwork and ship-building, while stone and flint were used for artisan crafting. Raising livestock proved to be easy due to the ideal climate and abundant food. Atlantis was governed by priests, who alone possessed the knowledge of how to smelt Bronze, as well as how to work obsidian and Gold. They carefully controlled this knowledge, keeping it from being used for militaristic purposes. Without conflict or warfare, the people of Atlantis were free to hone their skills and advance their crafts far ahead of neighbouring settlements. They thrived in their isolation. It was around this time that The Institute was founded. It might seem strange, but when I tell you that The Institute is actually an intergalactic organisation, then perhaps it will seem less strange. Around ten thousand years ago, an alien species discovered Earth, and landed their craft some way away from Atlantis. The natives didn't notice. I did. So did the other alien species that had already been watching over Atlantis for five years. I had left the latter species alone for the time being, but with a second species arriving I decided it was time to make my presence known to both of them. I orchestrated the meeting. The Setvirians, who had arrived on Earth first, knew of my existence but had paid little attention to me since I lived a solitary and uninteresting life. The Vraknirma on the other hand were more advanced, and had noticed that I was an anomaly. The more they learned about me, the more they realised they should have studied me intently. Once I determined that they had no ill intentions, I relaxed around them. Both species were merely explorers, seeking out inhabited planets and studying the natives in secret. They had policies of non-interference, though I had thrown that into disarray by forcing contact with them. After many discussions, we agreed upon a treaty, of sorts, to support and assist one another, as well as any other inhabited planets we came across. Since the Earth was at the heart of the network of inhabited planets so far discovered, it made sense for this planet to become the home of The Institute. It was founded that day, in a secret portion of Atlantis. The headquarters reside in Atlantis to this day. With my permission, the Vraknirma conducted a number of tests upon me to try and understand the origins of my abilities, which defied the laws of physics. The tests were... not exactly inconclusive, but they didn't tell me anything I hadn't already guessed. When the Excelsior had been triggered, with its damaged FTL drive, the resulting wormhole had fractured the fabric of reality. As I fell through this wormhole, it altered and mutated my physiology in ways that, under normal circumstances, would have been impossible. With me falling through a breach in reality, however, the impossible became possible. I'd more or less assumed that that had been the case anyway, so I didn't learn anything new. It just confirmed a theory that I'd already formulated. With the help of their technology, and that of the Setvirians, we managed to find the point in space where I had been ejected. We found the wormhole, but it was on the verge of collapse. I had half-hoped of returning to my universe, but the Vraknirma scans dashed my hopes. The universe that was on the other end of the wormhole... it was virtually destroyed. To this day we're not certain why, but perhaps the destruction of the Excelsior was more devastating than any of us could have imagined. It may have started some kind of chain reaction, ripping my home universe apart. The wormhole collapsed shortly afterwards. My home was gone. My wife and children. Everything in that universe is no more. I returned to Earth in this universe to carry out the duty that I had assigned myself: to watch over this world in secret and see that it doesn't fall into harm. As much as possible anyway. I've said that the people of Atlantis didn't really pay any attention to me. They saw me as being a strange individual, potentially dangerous but not outwardly hostile. That changed about 9,000 years ago, when two children, under the supervision of a priest, observed me engaging in activity they considered curious. I was working on erecting a stone circle. Why? I wanted to use it to try and pinpoint the precise point of history I was living in, and also to try and keep track of the passage of time. Before you ask, I could have used a more advanced method, but I chose not to for reasons that aren't relevant to this narrative. The Atlanteans were already aware of my abilities, so seeing me levitate rock slabs weighing more than a ton each was not strange to them. They were compelled by fascination to ask me what I was doing. I had already heard them speaking before, and had already learned that I can instantaneously master languages, so I wasn't surprised when I knew what was being said as though it was spoken in English. I explained the purpose and the function of the stone circle, which strengthened the fascination of the priest. From then on, the priests would frequently use my stone circle as part of their administration over the domain. I have always kept out of their affairs since it is not my place to intervene. That would eventually change. Joanna has already shared the incident surrounding the group of friends who disturbed a stone circle, so you know that they serve more than one purpose. It came to pass that I would seal away a similar creature myself within my stone circle, where it remains to this day. That is not the incident which changed my relationship with Atlantis. The incident that did, is connected with the incident that led to me pushing Joanna to publish the case file regarding the Joy Hunters. Atlantis was a booming civilisation, advancing well ahead of the rest of the world by millennia, under the watchful eye of myself and five members each from the Setvirians and the Vraknirma, who served as the first members of The Institute, along with four Atlantean priests. These priests had all had encounters with the supernatural, and so possessed special knowledge that made them worthy of The Institute. There is one thing I have not told you so far, but now is the time to change that. You see: Gods exist. Many of them. The Gods of every serious religion exist, as do many more that we Humans don't have a religion for, though other races do. They were beginning to look upon Atlantis and its rapid development unfavourably. They sent an emissary down to Atlantis, and I would later learn that it was deliberate that such an unsavoury emissary was chosen for the task. The emissary was an angel called Ascates, who served Apollyon, who it transpired was a God and not an angel himself. A God of Destruction. I would see the truth of that in time. Ascates was to walk within Atlantis, examine it and its people, and report his findings back to Apollyon. To the Atlanteans, he was seen as an envoy from a far-off land. They never knew he was an angel. The people welcomed him graciously, treated him remarkably, but that didn't seem to matter. Ascates seemed intent on causing problems, and The Institute was watching over his movements very closely. I do not blame the priests for their actions. Ascates had been abusing his role as emissary and was taking advantage of the hospitality of the Atlanteans. Unlike the rest of humankind at the time, the Atlanteans had the concept of consensual sex, and regarded rape as a grave crime. They believed that no-one, not even an angel like Ascates, was above the laws of Atlantis. While the Guardians of the Sanctum of Atlantis were dispatched to arrest Ascates, one of the priests came to me, knowing that the Guardians would not be able to do what needed to be done. Ascates was offended to have humans attempt to detain him for crimes under human laws, and slew the Guardians violently, before attempting to pass his judgement upon the nation as a whole. The priest was right to call for me. Not even the Setvirians nor the Vraknirma would have been capable of tackling Ascates. Only I had the power to do so, but Ascates chose to fight to the death. Perhaps if I had held back, the consequences would have been less dire. I gain nothing by dwelling upon this, however. What's done is done, though I still hate myself that innocent people paid the price. I knew that Apollyon would be angered by the death of his angel. I knew that he would seek vengeance. I did not however expect him to take matters into his own hands personally. To my knowledge, this is the only time that a God has ever descended to the realm of mankind, and Apollyon did so in a murderous rage. It was then that I learned how appropriate it was that he was the God of Destruction. In a furious rampage, Apollyon brought Armageddon down upon Atlantis. The Setvirians and the Vraknirma survived. I had urged them to evacuate beforehand, and they had heeded my warning. I survived too, but the people of Atlantis were consumed by fire and locusts. When Apollyon tried to extend his vendetta to cover all mankind, I had to muster my courage to intervene. I didn't know what I hoped to accomplish. Sure, I had powers that no-one else possessed, and that I could kill and angel, but a God? The God of Destruction no less. I didn't know if I could do that, but I had to try. I contained the plagues, first of all, before striking out against Apollyon. I still don't believe it was especially effective, but it certainly seemed to shock and surprise the God. He ascended to Heaven, and I gave chase. Heaven is not what it is depicted in the Bible. Mankind does not go there, no matter how pure their souls. Heaven is the abode of the Gods alone, and rather than a paradise; it is a collection of temples. Each God has its own temple, and as I would come to figure out: the temples are the source of the powers of the Gods. Apollyon had been shocked by my ability to harm him, but that shock turned to horror when he realised that I had followed him into Heaven. It was my turn to be consumed by rage. I found the source of Apollyon's power: a crystal the size of a small asteroid, and I shattered it into dust. I ripped the God of Destruction to pieces and brought down his temple upon his mangled corpse. My actions did not go unnoticed. The other Gods knew what I did, knew what I was capable of, but for a brief moment they didn't know how to respond. That moment of hesitation was my one and only chance to make sure that history never repeated itself, to make sure that no-one would ever suffer divine wrath as Atlantis had. I seized that moment with a bold plan. I extended my consciousness across the entirety of Heaven, to the crystals that gave the Gods their powers. I syphoned off a portion of power from each crystal, and used it with my own power to create a new life-form. This life-form was divine in nature and passive in personality. It lives within a dimensional fold that formed upon the life-form's creation. I cannot describe the appearance of the life-form, only its purpose: to protect the universe from the Gods. It is essentially a living shield. The Gods cannot leave Heaven. If they try, their crystals will be shattered and their temples reduced to rubble. The Gods will be mortal, and virtually powerless. If the Gods try to kill the life-form, it will resist them with their own powers, and if necessary: it will destroy the source of their powers. In that one moment, I went to great lengths to ensure that there was no loophole that could be exploited to destroy the life-form that I had created. There are two consequences to this, one good and one bad. The good consequence is that the mortal races of the universe are safe from divine wrath. True, the Gods can push their influence upon us, but we can choose to resist that influence. They can send angels, and I can kill those if need be. The negative consequence is that my own powers were limited during the creation of the living shield. As strong as I may seem to you now, it is only a fraction of the power I had up until the fall of Atlantis. This is why I insisted upon Joanna sharing the incident of the Joy Hunters. It's why I insist she focuses on the case files that have outcomes steeped in uncertainty and possible threat. I'm not strong any more. I weakened myself drastically that day. You cannot and must not depend upon me to save you. I can no longer kill a God. Not a fully-fledged one, though a Demi-God is still mortal enough for me to vanquish. I have never been omnipotent or omnipresent, but now I am far less capable of convincing people otherwise as I used to be. Teleporting even short distances takes tremendous effort and leaves me dangerously exhausted, hence why I rarely respond to incidents quick enough for a good result. My meeting with Joanna was a rare exception to this. You must not expect to be as lucky as she was. I arrived at the latest possible time to save her, but almost no-one else is that lucky. Evelyn Whitechapel, for example, had been dead for several hours before I could reach her. Even arriving that soon after death is rare for me. So don't depend upon me, or upon The Institute. Despite what we're capable of, we're extremely limited all the same. If you want to survive in this world, stay in your lane, as it were. Stay away from the supernatural, the extraterrestrial and the interdimensional. Rein in your curiosity, before it gets you killed. Neither I nor satisfaction will be able to bring you back. If you should happen to disturb horrors of a Lovecraftian style, you wouldn't want to be brought back anyway. I will try to end this account on a lighter note. I mentioned earlier that Atlantis is still the site of The Institute's headquarters. This is true. While Atlantis was severely ravaged, it wasn't entirely destroyed. I relocated the ruined nation to a safer location, before single-handedly spreading various legends and rumours about its existence and location. I knew that people would find out about Atlantis some day despite its isolation and its destruction. Other human settlements had known of its existence, after all. So I spun my own false narratives to throw off future explorers, and ensure they never found it. They are all looking in the wrong places because they don't know it has been moved. They don't know anyone exists who can move an entire nation, volcano included. I will not divulge the current whereabouts of Atlantis, but it is safe. You should be content with that. I have restored the buildings to their former splendour and I've maintained them very well. On the surface, Atlantis looks just as it always did. Underneath the surface is where the differences are. The Institute has expanded across the entirety of the nation, now a mobile nation, but without being visible from the surface. Using Institute technology, I have made Atlantis into a mobile island. We can, and frequently do, reposition Atlantis in order to keep it hidden. We also relocate on occasion to align with Ley Lines and dimensional rifts, if and when the need arises. The Setvirians and the Vraknirma have stayed with me in the 7,500 years since Atlantis was ravaged, sending new operatives as the older ones retire. Hundreds of other races have joined The Institute, but only a handful send operatives to Earth. Inari, whom Joanna mentioned in the case regarding a gamer being transformed into an in-game object; is one of those operatives, and an outstanding member of the Kithuan race, which shares many personality traits with humans. In the entire history of The Institute, I had never selected a human candidate, until I met Joanna. All other human operatives were selected by The Director, who is someone, not always human, elected to that position by a committee of 316 alien races. What was it about Joanna that made me choose her to join The Institute? Maybe someday I'll tell you. Maybe. And so my friends, that concludes my origin story. From soldier, to hero, to security guard, to a borderline immortal with supernatural powers. Though I helped found The Institute, I have never once held the position of The Director, for much the same reason that I served on the frontlines of combat even as a Field Marshal. It's where I belong, and it's where people need me to be, even if I dislike them depending on me. You may ask: will I post here again? As it happens, there is a case file I plan to share in the near future. I kept Joanna away from that incident for her own protection. You will see why in time. Until then: stay safe, stay alive, and stay away from things not of this world or this dimension.
The winner of the game is the first to reach 15 prestige points. Points are gained from collected cards and noble visits. Not all cards are worth points. Cards are also classed as gems, as are the token gems themselves so it can get a bit confusing when playing. It is a quick game but the rules can be a bit baffling at first. Playing the game is much better than trying to explain it to others ... Want to go to Splendour in the Grass 2016? Please read the Competition Rules & Conditions of Entry. When you play Splendor for the very first time after hearing the rules explanation, the game flow seems self explanatory. Splendor’s strategy appears to be focused on drawing gems until you can buy cards, then get some more gems to buy some more cards, and again and again. And when your engine is up and running, you start buying some of the more expensive cards which give you points. You ... The number of nobles is determined by the number of players plus one. Special notes: If playing with 2 players, then reduce all token piles to 4 by removing 3 from each, but leave the gold tokens at 5. If playing with 3 players, then reduce all token piles to 5 by removing 2 from each, but leave the gold tokens at 5. wargamer first, and a collector of toy soldiers second: these rules represent my solution to the problem presented by this fusion of interests. This is a simple game for use with full-round and semi-round toy soldiers from 40mm to 54mm in height. Created in the spirit of H.G. Wells’ Little Wars, H.G. Dowdall’s OVERVIEW OF SPLENDOR Splendor is a game where you play as a merchant during the time of the Renaissance who is using your available resources to gain ways of transportation, mines, and artisans; all of which will help you earn the respect of nobles through the land. Your goal is to turn raw resources into beautifully crafted jewels. Players attempt to make beautiful jewelry by collecting chips (which are gemstones) and use them to get development cards. Each game is different so the strategy is constantly changing. Clever gameplay quickly becomes a race to the finish as players attempt to outsmart each other and gain the game winner title. Give Splendor a try today and have fun with your friends or family. All of the Nobles in this game provide 3 prestige points and their requirements are either 3/3/3 (3 gems of one color, 3 gems of a second color, and 3 gems of a third color) for a total of 9 gem card purchases, or 4/4 for a total of 8 gem card purchases. After extensive game play and testing, most if not all victories can be achieved between 21 and 26 turns, with a total number of card purchases between 5 and 8 cards. In other words, most games will end before a player can ever achieve the ... Played this game using a set of rules I got off the Internet called 'Edwardian Splendour' , I diced for the entry positions of the opposing armies - the object of the game being the capture of the house in the centre of the table. The 'Red' army set off across a broad front , with the cavalry making a flank attack. The Highlanders moved swiftly down the road but took casualties from the 'Black ... Ultra BoardGames. This site is dedicated to promoting board games. Through extensive research, we bring everything you need to know about board games. Our mission is to produce engaging articles like reviews, tips and tricks, game rules, strategies, etc.
In this video we're going to learn how to play Splendor! If you have any comments or questions, please do not hesitate to post them in the Youtube comments ... Splendor is a set collecting game, in which you are merchants competing to collect the finest gems. 'How to Play' is designed to give you a basic overview of the rules and components. An updated video for Splendor. A big thanks to alioolio for catching a mistake in my first upload!! Enjoy!
