Erdigh: The Lowest Plane of Hell

Subject: Erdigh: The Lowest Plane of Hell Wed Jan 04, 2012 9:34 am

Erdigh exists purely as the palace of the Vikathers. A frozen pathway thousands of miles long leads from Erdigh to the upper levels of Hell. The Palace is a barren waste, entirely frozen over with no light except for a strange eerie glow created by the jagged stone walls. Erdigh is simply constructed, a square mile in area of hollowed out rock deep inside the ground, further down than even the dwarves have dared to tunnel. In the center of the hollow stands a massive palace of rock, metal, and ice that broadcasts a tumultuous aura of anger mixed with pain. Violent winds circulate around the fortress, hindering any approach to the evil construct. Inside dwell the Vikather, beings of pure evil, descended from the fallen Sovereign, Desh. They serve the Demon King and enforce his power across the reaches of the lower planes. Only the darkest souls are reincarnated by Desh to join the ranks of the Vikather and abide with them in their dark palace.

Subject: Re: Erdigh: The Lowest Plane of Hell Wed Jan 25, 2012 11:14 pm

Kosul strode quickly across the frozen tundra beneath his bare callused feet. To any surface dweller, Erdigh would freeze their blood instantly, but inhabitants of the frostbitten hell couldn't feel cold. They were already dead anyway. But Kosul's newest guest was different. He was also impervious to the temperature, but this one wasn't dead, per say. By all mortal meanings of the word, he was very much dead, but in death, either Desh or Pascha took possession of a person's soul. But this one still held onto his soul. This had never happened before, even in the time before the Cycle Wars. But this man could be the connection Kosul needed to usher his plans forward.

He came to the Endless Road, the road that connected Erdigh to the upper levels of Hell that stretched for thousands of miles. Also curious how this one did not have to make that trek. The elf stood silently at the gaping mouth of the tunnel. His face was still paling. So he hadn't been here long yet. Everything about this elf confused Kosul, but he didn't question the gifts of Desh.

"Welcome to Erdigh, scum," Kosul addressed him blankly. Despite the strange circumstances, Kosul wasn't going to allow his authority to waver. "You may be a special case, but you will live as all other residents of the realm and participate in the regular tasks with them." The large demon-lord snapped his clawed fingers and, seconds later, a man who must have died young stood at his lord's side. His skin was entirely gray, and his hair was all but devoid of color. "Show him to his room." He simply turned and began to walk away. I will break him to my will, vowed the mighty Vikather.

Subject: Re: Erdigh: The Lowest Plane of Hell Wed Jan 25, 2012 11:34 pm

This place was cold. The wiry haired man who he had met when he woke up told him that he shouldn't feel too much of the cold where he was going, but it still sent chills up the elf's spine. But despite his discomfort, Jevryn refused to show this egotistical creature the satisfaction of intimidating him. What really left him disconcerted was the man's complexion an demeanor. It was as if he couldn't speak, even if he tried to. To his credit, this "Kosul" character, as the wiry haired man had introduced him as earlier, was quite intimidating and reeked of destructive power. But, from what he could tell, Jevryn was already dead. In no way owuld he willingly submit himself to the instigation efforts of his new "master".

"Nice place you have here," he chirped sarcastically after the man had turned to show Jevryn his room, which was probably just a hole in the ground with a stone bed, if he even needed to sleep at all. Kosul's face exploded with a mixture of anger and what seemed to be surprise, and all efforts he made to hide it were desperately in vain. Even the man, who had stopped mid-stride, was in awe, something Jevryn thought him incapable of.

"You speak? How?" screamed the Vikather, spattering spittle on Jevryn's numb flesh.

"You mean I'm not supposed to be able to talk? That's hardly fair." Despite the power of this demon, the elf took great satisfaction in the frustration he was causing his captor. "Someoen needs to teach you to be a better host. Can't do that without speaking." By now, Kosul's face would have been purple, if it were of a normal mortal complexion to begin with, but rather, his purplish flesh was turning an deep shade of indigo. But all satisfaction drained from Jevryn's mind when Kosul raised his clawed hand and pulled it across Jevryn's face, flinging him through the air to a hard landing on the unforgivingly icy ground. So he could still feel pain. Good to know.

Subject: Re: Erdigh: The Lowest Plane of Hell Mon Feb 13, 2012 10:01 pm

"Next time, I'll break your arm in more places than you can imagine." The anger that had flared in Kosul's demonic face had faded, replaced by a dead serious stare that promised that he would not hesitate to carry out his threat. Jevryn stood and brushed himself off, slinking back to face the mighty Vikather. Good. If he fears me, I control him. Weak mortals. "Now, follow the usher to your hole. If you see me again in less than five days, you had better prepare yourself for a great deal of pain." The flash of fear in the newcomer's eyes, a sight Kosul was very fond of, gave the demon lord a great sense of accomplishment. If nothing else, Kosul took great pride in intimidating new souls, and this elf being a special case, made that feeling all the more fulfilling. "Get out of my sight," the demon demanded. He glared as the elf walked off after the usher.

A chuckle from behind the Vikather induced a drop in Kosul's spirits. "Intimidated, Kosul?" came the sarcastic chide. A second Vikather crossed to Kosul's left. He was only a few inches shorter than Kosul, but was by no means less intimidating. What he lacked in stature, Gevn made up for in his demeanor. Behind his sarcasm lurked a guiltless, murderous mentality with no regard for anyone but himself. He was a cutthroat by all implications of the word. It was this very trait that gained him his position in Erdigh. Desh had chosen him as the Persecutor, master of torture and interrogation. Many had died after weeks of ruthless suffering, and it was said that Gevn fed on the corpses of his victims, though it was unlikely, seeing as Vikather required no physical sustenance. Kosul had witnessed on more than one occasion the great number of ways that Gevn could cause pain, and the thousands of ways that he could use to kill someone. It was a gruesome but well-concealed truth behind his sarcastic, mocking facade.

"You know something," Kosul replied. In addition to being Persecutor, Gevn was often looked on as Desh's pet. If anyone was going to know what was happening out of earshot in Erdigh, it was Gevn. "Tell me," he demanded.

"Who says I know any more than you do?" Gevn mocked. "I was just making a simple observation. Of course, it is very strange that someone still alive would be brought here. Very curious." Gevn made no attempt to hide his sneer, taking great amusement in Kosul's frustration.

"I will know what is going on," Kosul threatened, but he knew that the promise was lost on Gevn. He couldn't touch the other Vikather without dire consequence, no matter how tantalizing he could be. Gevn just laughed and wandered off toward the palace, leaving Kosul with the fantasy of wringing the taunting pest's neck.

Subject: Re: Erdigh: The Lowest Plane of Hell Tue Feb 14, 2012 12:21 pm

It was not a particularly scenic place, Erdigh. No plants, save for the strange glowing fungus growing along the walls. The palace was the only thing worth mentioning, it's jagged parapets and intricate sculpting strangely beautiful, despite the evil aura emanating from the structure. The palace stretched for a few score of meters into the cavern, and ended abruptly at an equally frightening wall that completely blocked the cavern, from the floor to the rough ceiling. A man, if he could be called that, stood guard at the diminutive black door in the center of the looming barrier. His skin was entirely gray, his limbs bristling with muscle. The most disconcerting features, though, were his eyes. There was no color, no life in those pure black orbs of darkness. As Jevryn came closer behind the usher, he began to hear faints screams of terror from beyond the wall, shrieks of agony, likely some poor soul being tortured to submission. Yet the guard stood, entirely unfazed by the desperation that he so plaintively guarded.

Subject: Re: Erdigh: The Lowest Plane of Hell Wed Feb 22, 2012 9:48 am

The usher came abruptly to a stop several feet in front of the guard. He twisted his hands in a strange pattern, his fingers rolling over eachother and his wrists bending every which way, completely yunnatural movements that seemed entirely fluid to the dead man. The guard stood a moment, taking in what he had seen, then flipped his wrist around in a rolling motion to stop, his palm facing the high ceiling of the cave. The usher nodded and pressed his palms together, fingers facing the door. He then opened them from the tips, using his wrists as a hinge. The guard nodded in response and took a key from his belt. It was massive, about a foot long and two fingers thick. The coarse metal grated as he slid it into the lock in the portal, the gears cranking as he turned it. Despite his massive size, he seemed to be exerting a great deal of effort in turning the lock. Jevryn realized a moment later that this constant effort was probably why his arms and shoulders were so large.

The guard pulled the large flat slab of metal across the door, unsealing the portal to what Jevryn imagined as eternal damnation. A rush of burning hot air surged through the doorway as the guard opened it, though he still didn't show any reaction to it. As it blew across the elf's still tender skin, he felt as if his skin was on fire. The usher walked through the door, completely unmoved by the temperature change. Jevryn cautiously stepped through the door after his guide, his body adapting surprisingly quickly to the new climate. Jevryn had always imagined what Hell would be like, based on the stories of the elders in the village.

Those stories were nothing compared to the truth.

For over a mile stretched a pit, hundreds of yards deep, littered with scaffolding and crevices in the rough walls. An eerie orange glow lit the entire space above the hole, giving the cave the appearance of the mouth of a volcano. Sounds of clashing metal and cracking whips echoed from within the quarry, accompanied by screams of terror and the noxious scent of decay. It took all of Jevryn's will to keep his stomach from lurching. So my nose works too. Lovely.

The usher led him toward a wooden landing where the steps down into the mine began. Jevryn placed his hand on the wood, wondering, of all things, where they found trees down in this hole, and if he could still speak to them. But one glance down into the quarry immediately dispelled those thoughts. At irregular intervals in the mine, workers were toiling to chop down massive mushrooms that grew perpendicular to the walls. From the great deal of effort that the slaves were exerting to cut the thick stems, the mushrooms must be what they built the scaffolding from. The usher proceeded down the narrow yet incredibly sturdy steps. Two flights down, he turned into a wide crack in the wall that was lit by more of the smaller glowing fungi. At the end stood a thick door constructed of the cavern mushrooms, with a word etched on the door from a language that Jevryn did not recognize. The usher walked up to it and pushed it open to reveal a small, unfurnished room, save for several chairs and a square table built to seat four. Opposite the door, hands folded calmly on the lip of the table, sat a man who must have lived a very long life. His hair was long and gray, and he bore a thick beard of the same hue.His eyes were old, but they showed no weakness or even tiredness, despite the living conditions of Erdigh. He watched jevryn step through the door, but besides his eyes, did not move. The usher moved to the side and gestured for Jevryn to sit across from the old man, shutting the door behind them.

Jevryn sat and surveyed the room, though there was very little to look at. The old man simply stared at the elf, studying him, but did not do anything else for what seemed like hours. Then he gestured to the usher in their strange hand language, and the usher left the room, closing the door again as he left. Then the silence resumed.

"So they left you your voice," he said suddenly, catching the uncomfortable Jevryn off guard. "Curious," he added. Jevryn began to form a reply, but the man interrupted. "Do not speak. I have not granted you permission. In this room, you will listen, and only speak if I so prompt you." He stood up, showing no weakness in his joints or difficulty in his movement.

"You have been granted a precious gift for someone brought here. Very few are left with their voice, and even fewer are still allowed to keep it after so rudely speaking out against one of our masters." He shook his head in distaste.

"But I-" Jevryn began.

"Silence!" The word loomed in the air for several seconds. "Excuses are worthless here, and will only make your sentence more unbearable." he sat back down, resting his hands again on the table. "My name is Havor. You and I are Speakers. We have been left with our voice so that we can learn the Nurk'tah, the powerful demon magic orginally given to the Vikather. Those with the Nurk'tah are trained as the overseers of the Pit, the mine in which the slaves work. We use the magic to drive the slaves and punish them when they fail their sentence."

"Many Speakers are too weak to carry out this task. They are not ruthless enough, and the slaves begin grow lazy. These failures are punished greatly; it is a fate that, I assure you, you do not wish to bring upon yourself. My position here is to train you to use the Nurk'tah and to educate you in the will and workings of our Sovereign, Desh." He stood up and paced over to the corner to Jevryn's right. "Now, let me show you what the Nurk'tah is capable of."

On cue, a woman was shoved through the door, her hands already bleeding and her clothing in tatters. Her cheek was burnt and her left leg was spattered with lash marks. She stumbled, overbalanced, and fell to the ground at Havor's feet. She was shivering, likely from fear, and held her hand up in defense. "Stand up, scum," demanded Havor. She simply remained on the floor, huddled up in a pathetic, cowarding mass of tortured flesh. "Weak," snorted Havor.

He lifted his hand, twisting his fingers and muttering some sort of gibberish under his breath. The woman's body went completely stiff, and her limbs shot out as if she was being drawn and quartered. Havor moved his hand up, even with his shoulder, dragging the woman's frozen frame into the air where it stopped, suspended a foot above the ground. Her eyes were wide in horror, clearly aware of what was going on. Havor Placed his hands in front of his face, forming a diamond with his index fingers and thumbs. His expression was one of total concentration and disconnected ambivalence. He began to spread his hands apart to the side. The woman let out a bloodcurdling shriek as she felt her arms and legs being forced from their sockets.

Subject: Re: Erdigh: The Lowest Plane of Hell Tue Feb 28, 2012 12:02 am

Jevryn was trying desperately to control his frantic breathing, but his lungs refused to hold the cold air for more than a second. The limp, broken body of the now dead woman lie sprawled on the ground at Havor's feet. The Speaker seemed disinterested in her demise, and was far more interested in cleaning the blood from the table.

Havor had appeared so cool, so nonviolent when Jevryn had first walked into the room, but those false impressions had been dashed from his mind by the events he had just witnessed. This man was a monster. I can't possibly be like him, Jevryn thought. The thought tossed his stomach into a frenzy.

Havor snorted and turned to face Jevryn, who quickly feigned composure. Showing weakness to this man was clearly not the safest course of action for the young elf. "Impressed?" The Speaker smirked. "That was fairly basic. Of course, I often find the basic methods of torture to be some of the most gratifying. So primitive and violent." He trailed off, reminiscing the pleasures of tormenting the slaves.

His attention suddenly gravitated back toward the present. "This will be your job. If you show weakness, you will be submitted to my care, which," he nodded toward the limp female, "is none to hospitable." Havor sat across from Jevryn at the table, brushing a stray tooth from the chair. He rested his hands again in their folded position of the hard surface.

"Do I have time to think about it?" inquired Jevryn, struggling to hide the wavering in his throat.

Havor chortled. "Think? You think you have a choice?" He laughed again. "You'll be lucky to survive the first week if that is your disposition." The Speaker's face flashed instantly to one of stern resolve. "You will be ready in the morning when the usher comes to receive you. Be late, and there will be consequences." He stood up and prepared to walk out into the cavernous mine complex, but paused for a moment, saying, "There are no hours as you know them here. When the bell tolls once, you wake up. When it tolls again shortly after, you are expected to be at your assignment, or, in your case, training. When it happens again, you leave your training is finished until the next bell. The usher will be waiting outside your shelter at first bell. He will now show you to your shelter." At that, Havor left Jevryn alone in the empty room, accompanied only by the dead woman.