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Post by Dante on Apr 23, 2005 5:12:27 GMT -5
Will we find out what happened to Phlegyas that gave him so many wounds? Is this important? I considered saying something, but then decided not to - it's not important. However, just for the sake of it, I'll tell you my idea. I'll insert a few references to it in the next part, too. When the reforms came, Phlegyas opposed them - they made little difference to him, but it was an idealogical opposition, not a selfish one. He consequently refused to continue in his line of duty. However, the Devil-Masters needed him to ferry folk across the Styx. The driver of the Hell-Train was chained in place, but they couldn't do the same for Phlegyas - so the Furies were sent to punish his disobedience. The Furies won, and the battle resulted in Phlegyas being hurled into the Styx. When he was eventually dragged out, he accepted the supremacy of Dis, because he knew that he wouldn't survive another such fight. I spot a self-insert; and a very articulate one, it must be said. Also appropriate; like the rest of mankind, Dante is dead at the time this is occuring. And Wrathful seems appropriate for his usual persona... Yes, you got it right. The sullen sinner is based on myself, in one of my less content moods. It seemed appropriate. Yes, it doesn't really fit, but it's necessary. He needs to accept his sins. That's actually a variation on my usual writing style (and my decision not to use actual names whilst in the narration).
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Post by Ennui on Apr 23, 2005 5:15:03 GMT -5
So he would naturally have sympathy with another failed rebel, you bobbing at the end of your chain...and that's why he advised the Shades to come and take a look...
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Post by Dante on Apr 24, 2005 2:54:51 GMT -5
“Who goes there?” demanded a harsh, gravely voice.
“Two Shades,” answered the lesser of the two, “making our way to our judged places.”
The eyes which gazed out at them thinned. “Why aren’t you on the train?”
“It was full,” came the answer.
The eyes seemed to consider this for a moment, and then vanished. Then, from behind the wall, they could hear its voice call out, “Tisiphone! Suspicious characters at the gate!”
No reply was given; but then, there was a movement above the heads of the Shades, and from a balcony above the gate a winged creature leapt up into the air. Wings unfolded, beat the air for a moment, and then the being lowered itself before them.
It looked like a woman who had once been beautiful, but had grown old and seen many fights. Its face was twisted and ugly, and its eyes gave off a green glow; bat-like wings sprang from its back; and wrapping themselves round and round the body ‘til barely any of the creature’s bare flesh could be seen were dozens of thick green snakes, curling and hissing and glaring intently at the two Shades their mistress had confronted.
The strange creature looked at them with a suspicious expression on its face. Putting its face close to them, it examined them intently with its green eyes; somehow entranced by them, the two Shades felt rooted to the spot. Then, suddenly, the creature lashed out with a long, sharp-nailed hand, and scratched each of the two Shades across the arm in turn, leaving deep gashes in their flesh. But the wounds did not bleed; they turned an angry red, before closing themselves up, and healing almost instantly, leaving only a few thin white scars on the flesh of the Shades.
The creature straightened up immediately, glanced once again at the faces of the two it had confronted, then leapt into the air once more, and flew back over the wall. From behind it, the Shades heard a shrieking, malevolent, almost bird-like voice cry out, “They’re dead.”
There was another pause; and then slowly, painfully, the gates began to open inwards before the Shades, dragging across the dirt of the ground and leaving deep marks. The two Shades entered into the Sixth Circle through the open gate, before turning back to look once more at the filthy marsh they had just crossed, with its endlessly fighting denizens; and then the gates began to swing closed again. Looking above, and at the backs of the gates, the travellers could see that they were opened and closed by a complex series of chain pulleys, pistons and gears, which drove themselves into a frenzy to move the heavy gates. At last, the gates were shut again; and then a figure in black, with dark wings appearing from its back, walked out from a nearby tower and drove numerous bolts across the gate, and sealed locks with keys. Turning towards the Shades, they saw that he wore again the military uniform of the C.R.S., the number six enclosed by nine circles. The devil drew a long piece of paper from its pocket, and a sharp feather quill.
“Names, and the Circles you’ve been sent to?” he asked, in the voice which the Shades had heard outside the walls.
The Shades answered, feeling somewhat as though they were applying for a job, or attempting to enter another country. The devil scribbled these down on the piece of paper, before putting it away and the quill. Then, he simply turned away, marched back to the gate, and stood there, apparently waiting for any further Shades who had missed the train. The Shades looked at each other, confused by this bureaucracy, before turning around themselves, to get a better look at the Sixth Circle.
The Sixth Circle was the city of Dis, the capital of Hell. However, it had no roads or pathways – the ground beneath their feet was dry dirt all around. Further away from the gate, on each side, were clusters of graves, each with flames springing up from the ground before them. Straight ahead, as always, was the pit of Hell, where the rest of the Circles could be found. Glancing at the walls, the Shades saw that buildings had been built into the iron barrier, some square, some round, and some tall towers. No creatures could be seen, either devil or Shade, so the two wanderers decided to take their questions to the gatekeeper.
“Excuse me…” asked the greater Shade, approaching the gate-guard once again, “would you answer some questions for us, about this Circle?”
The devil nodded – but before either Shade could ask a question, a bird-like voice rang out from above, “We’d oblige you, too, to pass the time…”
The creature which had confronted the Shades outside the gate leapt down from its station atop the gate, and was followed by two others, identical to the first save that one was wreathed with red snakes and looked out with red eyes, and another black where its twins were green and red. The horrible trio looked contemptuously at the two Shades, whilst the devil-guard merely looked a little bored.
“What – who are you monsters?” gasped the greater Shade, expressing now the horror which he had been unable to previously.
“The Furies,” answered the creature with the red snakes.
“Or Erinyes,” interjected its dark counterpart. “Alecto myself, Tisiphone you know, and crimson Megaera.”
“Guardians of the gate, should it ever need defending,” said Tisiphone.
“And more recently, enforcers of the rules around here,” finished Megaera.
“What sin is punished within these walls?” asked the lesser Shade.
“First, what’s all this curiosity?” asked the gate-guard. “There’s few who’ve ever cared before.”
“Was it Phlegyas who taught you to ask meddlesome questions?” asked Alecto. “He’s caused enough trouble around here without prompting Shades to go about asking things that don’t concern them.”
The greater Shade tried to assuage their suspicions. “Nobody’s taught us to interfere at all! We’re simply curious. You were happy enough about it a moment ago.”
“True,” admitted Tisiphone.
“And what’s this about Phlegyas?” asked the other Shade.
“Phlegyas,” replied Megaera, in a scornful voice, “is a traitor.”
“Was a traitor,” said the gatekeeper.
“Once a traitor, always a traitor,” argued Megaera.
“What did he do?” asked that same Shade.
“He, like some other fools, chose to oppose the reforms,” said Tisiphone. “We couldn’t be happier about them, as it happens, but he said that they ‘went against Hell’s nature.’ Outright refused to do his work.”
“He was difficult to deal with,” said the gate-guard. “We could simply chain up the driver of the Hell-Train, and Cerberus, but that wasn’t a solution for Phlegyas.”
“So the Devil-Masters sent we three Furies to deal with him,” said Alecto, her eyes becoming glazed as though remembering something wonderful.
“He put up a surprisingly good fight, but we won out in the end, and cast him into the Styx,” said Megaera. “When they pulled him out, he didn’t oppose us anymore. He knew he wouldn’t survive another fight.”
The two Shades suddenly remembered the terrible wounds on Phlegyas’s face…
“Didn’t you have a question about the sinners here?” asked the gate-guard.
“Heretics!” cried Alecto. “They chose their own judgement, or that of some false idol, over the judgement of He above.”
“Frankly, I think them smarter for it,” said Tisiphone. “I never did a thing that I thought might please the enemy in the sky.”
“But isn’t it God’s will that you punish the sinful?” asked the greater Shade.
The four assembled guards of Dis stopped dead, and turned their gaze upon the speaker, their eyes full of rage. The lesser Shade took the initiative.
“Well, that’s our questions answered!” he cried. “We’ll just be going now…”
And with that he dragged his tactless companion away, around the right side of the Circle, with the Furies and the gatekeeper still glaring at them with hatred in their eyes.
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Post by Dante on Apr 24, 2005 2:55:07 GMT -5
---
“What did you drag me away for?” asked the greater.
“For your own good,” replied the lesser, as they approached a group of tombstones. “They’d have torn you apart, I think, if you’d stayed. To say that they serve God would be a terrible insult. Say, what’s this here?”
Beyond the tombstones were the railway tracks, and the two could see the Hell-train steaming away, before plunging into a deep pit and out of sight. Nearby, a devil was holding the Shade of a struggling woman. He dragged the fearful Shade to an open tomb, and cast it inside, before producing a bottle of some clear substance from a pocket. Allowing a few drops of this liquid to fall into the grave, the devil moved back as flames erupted from within. Finally, the devil began piling dirt inside and atop the sinner. The flames still leapt through the dirt, though, and the grave was still burning as the devil walked away and the two Shades approached.
“Are you alright down there?” cried the lesser Shade, but the only answer he received was muffled screams of pain.
“Can you hear us?” shouted his companion.
“She can, but she won’t answer,” said a muffled, male voice from a nearby tomb. “It’ll be some years before she grows used enough to the burning to speak through it.”
The Shades turned a nearby grave from which the voice had spoken, and saw that each and every tombstone was wrought of iron. The tombstone which interested them had a name upon it, followed by single word which was enclosed by mocking quote marks:
CLAUDE VORILHON “RAEL”
“That name sounds familiar,” said the lesser Shade.
“It should,” cried the muffled voice. “For a time, I was famous, and I had many followers who took my every word as certain truth… When the war came, though, we were all destroyed, and my lies were laid bare for all to see. My followers all burn here, too, and they hate me now.”
“I remember him now,” said the greater Shade. “He was some nut who said that aliens told him they created the world. He said that he met Jesus and the Buddha.”
“And many others besides,” said the voice. “I wanted money, and respect, which at the time were scarce. So I told lies, and spread them all about – proclaimed myself a prophet, sent by Earth’s true creators to spread the true word. For a time, I even believed myself.”
“Do you regret what you did?” asked the lesser Shade.
“Yes, but only because it has led me down here,” answered the voice. “Aside from that, I regret nothing. It gave me a better life than I could have hoped for. I would do nothing differently if I could live my life again…”
The flames seemed to burn more intensely from Rael’s grave, then, and he began to shout in pain. Only then did the two Shades notice that the graves about them had erupted into shouts, too: Shouts of pain and anger and hatred. Retreating from this scene, the two Shades chose a path back to the walls.
---
Approaching the iron walls of Dis, the greater Shade began to look pensive, and a frown appeared on his face.
“What are your thoughts?” inquired his companion.
“Every devil we’ve met so far,” said the greater, “told us that the reforms were ordered by the Devil-Masters in Dis. Well, now we’re here. Would it not be interesting if we could speak to them?”
“Why, yes,” answered the other. “But where to find them, in such a huge place?”
“Where else but in the biggest building here,” replied his associate, and pointed ahead of them, where a huge, many-walled building rose out of the walls.
“I thought you’d chosen this path by chance,” said his companion. “Clearly I was mistaken.”
“I always had a knack for spotting where power lay,” laughed the other, and for a second it was as though they were alive again, the president laughing in his office over some scheme, the aide looking worried and doubtful, and the vice-president laughing the loudest of all.
Approaching the doors of the building, the two could hear voices within. Taking care not to be seen, they peered through the partially-open door, and took in the scene within.
A huge devil sat at an iron desk in the centre of the room, wearing the C.R.S.’s usual uniform, but now with dozens of medals adorning its breast, stripes on the shoulders, and a spiked helmet atop his head. Before the desk stood a strange woman wearing a long, black, somewhat tattered dress. Her skin seemed somehow scaly, and her hair was writhing and curling about her, and the watchers realised that her head was adorned with snakes, a lot like the Furies they had met earlier, only these were actually growing from her skull, rather than simply being wrapped around her. The strange woman had a fashionable black veil hung over her eyes – so thick a veil that they were surprised she could see through it. On the desk sat a monstrous crow, which cawed occasionally, and clicked its beak.
“I have received word,” said the devil, in a deep, terrible voice, “from our agents in Cocytus. They say that he is stirring again.”
“Blassted humansss…” hissed the woman. “If they hadn’t messs-ed everything up with their ssilly warss, we could have been rid of him for a good few centuries yet.”
“The time-flow inconsistencies were very helpful,” growled the devil. “I hate to admit it, but if time didn’t flow more slowly here, we’d never have had enough time to make the reforms go even as far as they have now. Are the Bowge-Devils still resisting?”
“Yess,” the woman replied, “and the return of S. will only rally them to greater heights of treachery, if they get word of it.”
“You know what to do,” the devil said. “Send carrier-crows. Message Geryon and Cocytus. The Bowge-Devils must not reach the Giants, and they must hear nothing from our own forces, so remember to code your messages. At all costs, the Bowge-Devils cannot be allowed to hear of this. We may still be able to win the day, if we prepare immediately.”
“I’ll sssee if we can recruit the Giants,” said the woman. “If we can get them on our sside, nothing can sstop uss…”
The woman turned and strode out of the building, and right into the listening Shades.
“What are you eavesssdropperss doing?” she hissed in a terrible voice.
“What are those Shades doing lurking there?” bellowed the Devil-Master from within. “They shouldn’t be lingering. March them down to the Seventh, before you do anything else.”
“Of coursse, my Master,” replied the woman, before turning to the Shades and hissing, “Move now, or we’ll transport only your statues down!”
The lesser Shade, who by now had a good idea of who the woman was, immediately turned, grabbed his associate, and began to walk quickly away. The woman appeared in front of them.
“I ssupposse you don’t know the way, do you?” she spat at them. “Follow me.”
---
They walked past the graves, where Rael and his followers argued, past the gate, where the gate-guard and the Furies watched them intently, before stopping at a ledge on the edge of the pit. It was a very steep drop, but at this point, there had been a rock-fall long ago, and piles of stone formed steps, of sort, which allowed passage down.
“Thank the Lord who sent you down here that at least you don’t have to jump down, as once happened,” said the woman. “It’s the son who caused this rock-slide, when he came down here Himself, and broke open the gates to let the virtuous out.”
The two Shades weren’t quite sure what event the woman spoke of, but began to climb down the rocks. They had not gotten far when an angry roar came from their side, and, turning, they confronted yet another terrible monster – a huge, muscled man, but from his shoulders sprang a grotesquely wide, hairy neck, and from that the head of a bull grew, with pointed horns and wild eyes. Charging, it narrowly missed the lesser Shade, who jumped aside.
“Get off my path!” it roared, shaking its head from side to side, enraged. It hurled itself at the greater, who dodged away and only avoided being gored by a hair’s breadth. The Minotaur bellowed in rage once more, and would have turned about to charge down the slope when something above caught its eye. Letting out a terrible moan of pain, the Minotaur froze in its tracks, and began to change colour. All the hues of the creature, dull though they were, drained away, and were replaced by an empty grey. The Minotaur twitched a little, and slowly reached out an arm as though to touch something above its head – but then it moved no more, and stood stock still in its place. It had turned entirely to stone.
Looking above the head of the Minotaur, the two Shades saw the mysterious woman, who was fastening the veil over her eyes again. With a last glance down at the travellers, Medusa turned away and went back to her business in Dis, whilst the Shades were left to clamber down the rest of the rocks and enter the Seventh Circle.
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Antenora
Detriment Deleter
Fiendish Philologist
Put down that harpoon gun, in the name of these wonderful birds!
Posts: 15,891
Likes: 113
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Post by Antenora on Apr 24, 2005 5:17:53 GMT -5
I remember hearing about the Raelians...they claimed they had cloned someone, I believe.
Anyway, great chapter.
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Post by A. the Returned on Apr 24, 2005 5:58:20 GMT -5
This is a great story. I'm glad I finally got around to reading it. Anyway keep it up.
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Post by Celinra on Apr 24, 2005 9:09:03 GMT -5
Wow, a person I'm actually more familiar with was in the story. I had to do a bit of research on Raelians and their beliefs, when I did a paper on cloning during my senior year in high school. Yes, they did claim to have cloned someone... and they also claimed that they would soon be able to create a fully-grown clone, as well as transport consciousness, so that a sort of immortality could be achieved.
Good chapter, I really liked it!
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Post by PJ on Apr 28, 2005 23:16:07 GMT -5
Splendid! The conversation with the demon-master was brilliant. Seems you have something cooking for the end, Dante. I was also wondering about the woman that got freshly buried. Didn't some demon say that no one had passed in months? Or was this woman just incredibly slow in getting to her circle. Or what.
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Post by Dante on Apr 29, 2005 9:24:44 GMT -5
Splendid! The conversation with the demon-master was brilliant. Seems you have something cooking for the end, Dante. I was also wondering about the woman that got freshly buried. Didn't some demon say that no one had passed in months? Or was this woman just incredibly slow in getting to her circle. Or what. In case you hadn't noticed, you had a trainful of people just setting off in the Second Circle. Time flows differently in Hell - it's part of the punishment. You could awake in the Vestibule and be joined five minutes later by your ten-years-older son - or wait years for somebody who died but a second after you. And that's if you see them at all. Besides, the Hell-Train had only just arrived in Dis, in case you'd forgotten, and it takes a while to seek out the Shades who had been sent to whichever Circle, drag them off the train, and imprison them. And the train itself isn't the most reliable piece of engineering. It's prone to breakdowns, especially if the driver's in a particularly ferocious mood.
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Post by PJ on Apr 29, 2005 15:54:25 GMT -5
Yeah, I was going to mention the train, but didn't. Now go write more. Or we'll lynch you.
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Post by Dante on Apr 30, 2005 3:41:54 GMT -5
The pit which the further Circles lay within was a deep one, and it took a longer climb than any before for the Shades to reach flat ground once more. However, as they approached the Seventh, the mist cleared somewhat, and they were able to see across this Circle. A river of dark red colour ran nearest to the travellers, and beyond that, a deep, dark, leafless wood, above which strange creatures swooped and dived – and beyond even that, an empty, sandy wasteland, which stretched for some way before coming to an abrupt stop where the next descent must be. To the west, a stream from the red river ran through the wood and the sand before plunging from the edge and into the abyss. Not so far from this, but nearer to the Shades, ran the tracks of the Hell-Train, which came out of a cave some way to the left of the climbing pair, and ran across the red river and into the wood and across the sand, before stopping, like the stream, at the cliff on the edge of the sand.
The ground grew closer. Now, there were tiny figures plunged into the river, whose shouts and screams of pain and rage found their way to the ears of the clambering pair, and other creatures, horse-like, could be seen on the near bank of this river, dashing from here to there at great speed…
The two had reached the bank of the river. The horse-like shapes were fully-formed before them now, and they were again dead creatures of lost myth. From horse’s body sprang man’s body, this clutching close a bow and arrow; the wise and terrible centaurs stood between the river and the two Shades who wished to cross it.
“Halt!” one cried. “Is this your chosen place? For if so, we’ll plunge you in happily, and not permit you to wander the banks of Phlegethon any more.”
“Do not!” cried the lesser Shade, as a group of three centaurs began to close in on them. “We’ve been sent to a place far worse.”
“Worse?” thundered a tall centaur. “Then dawdle not, and hurry on.”
“I am chief of the river-guards, Nessus,” spoke a harsh voice, and a yet grander centaur appeared, one bearing the scars of battle and, at the same time, the wisdom that comes with age upon his face. “Don’t think you will usurp me.”
The centaur Nessus bowed its head, and backed away a few paces. Its companions all turned away from the two Shades and back to the river, which they kept their bows and arrows trained keenly on, save for Chiron, who came forth to speak to the Shades.
“You wish, then, to cross this river?” it asked.
The Shades replied in the affirmative.
“Then let me oblige you with information you may need, if you wish safe enough passage through; although if you’re destined to pass through the Eighth, then no amount of safe advice can help you.”
With these ominous words, Chiron turned and began to canter to the west, beckoning the Shades to follow. At intervals along the river-bank, centaurs were positioned, each wholly focussed on aiming their bow at the figures within, who writhed in pain and called out terrible shouts of anger. After a while, they stopped their progress and looked to the river.
“This river is of the same water as Acheron, Styx, and the lake of the Ninth,” Chiron said, “and yet each river is somewhat different to all the others. The waters of Acheron run black as night, and in Styx they turn to mud. Here, the river transforms again into that most essential of human fluids – blood. The fiery passions of those who were violent to their neighbours heat it terribly, ‘til it boils, and consequently they cry out constantly.”
This piece of sage advice said, Chiron made his way yet further around the river, the two Shades following him closely. The greater Shade, though, had a question to ask, and had never been the sort to have patience in such matters.
“We came to the Seventh Circle,” he asked, “down a huge pile of rocks. We understand that it was not always so. How has this come to be?”
Chiron paused, and for some time said nothing. Then, in a weary voice, he began to speak.
“Man is tainted. The original betrayal, the one that caused you to be cast out of the Garden, still clings to you. A long time ago, this meant that any man, no matter how good his soul was, was sent down here to end his days.”
“We know this,” said the greater, but his companion motioned to him to be quiet.
Chiron continued, “The Creator saw no good in this, so he sent his son into the world, to take all of your sins upon Himself. At the hour of his death, He himself descended into Hell.”
Chiron paused, perhaps expecting some other interruption from the two Shades he guided – but there was none, so he carried on as though he had not stopped.
“At this hour, a great earthquake struck, and was felt by all who dwelt here. It is that which caused the rockslide which eased your descent here, and broke some bridges in the Malbowges.”
Thinking himself finished, Chiron began to make his way forward yet again, but was stopped by the Shade who had requested his tale told. “Surely that cannot be the end of the story?” he cried.
Gruffly, Chiron replied “I answered your question, and saw no need to elaborate further. Since you insist, however… What followed was that the son shattered the gates of Hell in his descent. With this done, He took all the virtuous, who should not have ever been here, and took away, to the Garden which you men lost long ago. The rest of us – even some of the others who resided in Limbo, who did not meet His high standards – are forever condemned to remain here.”
At this, Chiron paused once more, before adding as an afterthought, “For us, there can be no redemption.”
His tale finished, the centaur led them further on around the river.
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Post by Dante on Apr 30, 2005 3:42:20 GMT -5
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Before long, they had reached the point where the tracks of the Hell-Train emerged from the side of the cliff. Looking inside, the Shades saw that the tracks followed a steep, spiralling path, and one which no man could hope to ascend. Chiron coughed, and brought their attention back to the river.
The train tracks ran across a part of the Phlegethon which was shallower than all the rest – although the burning blood ran still across the tracks, and the Shades were not keen to pass across it.
“It is safe for you,” Chiron re-assured them. “As Shades, no harm can come to you outside of your own Circle unless it is truly meant to hurt. Thus this river poses no threat to you, although you should take care if you meet the rebels of the Eighth.
“What lies across this river?” asked the lesser Shade.
“You have seen it already, I think, from a great height,” answered Chiron. “After Phlegethon is the Wood of the Suicides, where those who were violent unto themselves are kept. Beyond that is the Abominable Sand, where those who rebelled against nature, art, religion burn. After that you’ll make your way into the Eighth Circle – but ask not of me that I speak of that terrible place. Take heed, though – once you reach the ground of that place, run! Or else you meet a fate for which you were not meant.”
And with this warning, Chiron departed, galloping away back in the direction he had come. The centaurs who stood at this particular bank gestured, with their bows, that the two Shades should cross. With a wary glance at each other, the two Shades did just that, stepping into the waters of Phlegethon. They were warm about the feet of the two, but not scalding, and so the Shades felt safer as they followed the train tracks across.
However, a sense of unease began to set into them. The river was fairly wide, and crossing it quite a walk in itself – and the other Shades, who were writhing in the boiling blood themselves, uneased them. Two in particular, who were not writhing alone, but fighting each other, as had the wrathful of Styx, were rather closer than the river-crossers might have wanted… And as they reached the point midway across the river, these two blood-covered Shades looked up from their battle, and stood stock-still, gazing at the two who had now quickened their pace to reach the wood…
“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally arrived…”
The two Shades who sought to cross the river turned as this voice came from their counterparts in the river. The latter separated, and stood up, a woman and a man, with dark expressions in their eyes and mad, wicked smiles on their faces.
“I hoped that we’d see you again, George…” said the woman, in a voice which the former-president recognised, and he realised who these two were. They had been friends of his, once, but he had left them to die long ago, when the four of them, and the vice-president, had been hurrying to reach their underground bunker…
“Donald Rumsfeld and Condoleezza Rice?!” cried the lesser Shade.
“That’s right!” cried the man. “We’ve waited a long time for you two traitors to arrive.”
“Do you know how long we’ve been down here?” asked the woman. “Centuries! Centuries in this river, so many that I can’t even feel it burning anymore, so many that I could move, and fight again!”
“Let’s set aside our differences, for now,” said the man.
“I agree,” said the woman. “It’s time for our revenge!”
And with this, the violent pair began to advance on the former-president and his once-aide. The two turned and ran for the forest.
“Run faster!” cried the woman to the man. “You’re being too slow again!”
The gap between the two groups was closing – and yet the wood seemed so near now, to the fleeing pair.
The woman suddenly fell flat on her face in the blood. Another Shade had caught her around the legs and pulled her down.
“Take your hands from me, Aurangzeb!” she cried. “I’m so close now!”
Her violent compatriot roared, and turned on Aurangzeb. However, their actions had not gone unnoticed, and a volley of arrows flew from the centaurs, striking all three. By this time, the two running Shades had reached the forest at last, and all they could hear as they entered its dark depths were the screams of rage from their pursuers, denied their revenge forevermore.
---
The forest was almost as threatening as the one the two Shades had found themselves in when first they arrived in Hell. The trees were tall, twisted, and leafless, and each struck the Shades as being utterly dead. At least, though, this wood was fairly calm, and not a sound could be heard nearby.
The greater Shade was still recovering from the shock of his encounter. It struck him that if two of his greatest friends were here, then what differed himself from them? Was he as guilty as Minos had announced, after all?
The tracks of the Hell-Train ran through the wood, providing a path, but the forest on either side looked nigh-impenetrable, with trees and bushes occupying near every space. On occasion, bird-like squawks could be heard above, or the baying of dogs in the distance, but where the Shades travelled, the wood seemed empty enough.
“Where is everyone?” the lesser Shade asked. “Chiron said that people who’d hurt themselves were here – but where?”
As if in answer to his question, a great screaming could be heard from the left of the path. Thinking themselves safer in the wood than they had been by the river, the two, curious, ventured into the wood on their left, weaving their way between the trees. As they approached the source of the screams, a horrible sight presented itself.
One of the trees was being savaged by a terrible creature – its body was some perversion of a woman’s body, but where its arms should be sprang only wings, and its feet were covered in bird-like claws. Around this creature’s neck, a chain was fastened, and this led away further into the wood. The condition of the tree, however, was the worst part of this spectacle. As the monstrous creature scratched and clawed at it, the tree was emitting howls of anguish – and blood flowed from the deep gashes its attacker left.
Spying the two Shades, the winged creature paused in its attack, as though judging whether or not they posed a threat. Then, after delivering one final blow against the tree, it flew away, soaring across the forest, its chain hanging below it, tethered to some point in the forest below.
The Shades hurried to the tree, which, human-like, moaned still.
“What is it?” asked the lesser Shade, in a lowered voice.
“Don’t think pain dulls my ears!” cried the tree. “I am as you are, so don’t think me otherwise…”
The Shades were taken aback. “You’re a Shade?” one of them asked.
“Indeed!” cried the bleeding tree. “As are all that grow in this forest around you. For crimes against the self, we are put into this form, and harpies continue that harm once self-inflicted day and night.”
“Do you have a name?” asked the greater Shade.
“Me? I have no name,” replied the tree. “I’m nobody special. There’s many in our forest from these modern days, who were never special. We all share the same story – we thought that we might escape our problems in death, and yet by slaying ourselves, we are punished worse than ever we were.”
“That’s not fair,” said the lesser Shade. “Does nobody deserve peace?”
“You forget, as we did,” the tree continued, “that in killing ourselves, we hurt those around us… Family, friends, everyone – they suffer because we didn’t want to suffer. I’ve come to that conclusion now. We have nobody to blame but ourselves.”
The tree sank into a state of contemplation, its branches hanging low and no voice coming from it. Sensing that it wanted to be alone with its sadness, the lesser Shade turned to leave, but the greater Shade had one last, tactless question for it.
“Is there anybody interesting in this forest?” he asked.
The tree seemed to bristle, as though angry – but the voice which came from it this time was sad, and tired.
“Carrying on in this same direction,” it advised, “You will come to a stream, which flows direct from the Phlegethon. Follow that, and you’ll meet somebody that I’m sure you’ve heard of. Sometimes his rants carry even to here…”
The tree fell silent again, and the Shades turned away – but then, past them, ran a man and two women, their flesh torn and shredded, who had appeared as though from nowhere and fled away at top speed. In their wake chased ten terrible black dogs, who barked and howled and leapt to attack the running Shades. All members of this bizarre hunt ignored the two Shades who stood by, but the bleeding tree cried out again.
“Curse you, you wastrels, wreckers, and profligates! Why must you hate order and peace so?”
One of the black beasts paused to look at the tree, as though in sympathy, before tearing off again in pursuit of its prey. The Shades, too, wishing to distance themselves from the chase, set off in the direction the tree had given them.
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Post by Dante on Apr 30, 2005 3:43:24 GMT -5
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The stream of boiling blood was not far, but the forest around it seemed more threatening than the rest. Some of the trees had roots near to, or plunged into, the fiery stream, and these trees were crueller, darker, fiercer than the rest, and the Shades felt uncomfortable walking near them – for if a tree could uproot itself and attack a man, then surely it would be these trees which did so.
As the two Shades followed the stream through the forest, more of the harpy-cries could be heard, as well as a harsh, hoarse, grating voice, which could only be their victim. Emerging into a clearing, the Shades beheld a strange and ghastly sight.
The stream ran straight through this small clearing, but in the very centre of the open space, growing directly on top of the stream, so that all its central roots were fed by it, was a tree at once grander and more horrendous than all the others. At least three times the width of the thin trees they had thus far encountered, and growing above all the rest, this great tree was a monster of sorts, itself, with branches springing from it all over, each long, and covered in that sharp kind of twig that is akin to thorns in its capacity for harm. Around the branches of the tree were great chains, and to these chains were attached harpies, dozens of them, who circled above before swooping down to claw at the tree. The tree was covered in so many bleeding gashes that not much knotty wood could be seen on it, as much was covered in flowing blood, which bubbled and boiled like the Phlegethon-blood that the tree lived on. And then the tree began to shout and scream again, in the terrible voice which the Shades had heard in the distance, as they followed the stream.
“Corruptions! Perversions!” it cried, its voice rising to a shriek of unchained rage. “Halt your clawing, I will not be touched by such filthy creatures, I will not!”
But for all the tree ranted, the harpies only tore at it again.
“And what’s this? Shades, come before me! Unchain me, I command you! I may yet spare you!”
The tree was utterly mad, that was clear; the chains were clearly too strong to ever be removed, and the tree was in no position to judge who might be spared, and who might not.
“Where are they? All those traitors, who turned away from me!” the tree bellowed again. “All dead, too, but I’ve seen none of them. Himmler, Goering, Goebbels! Where are you now? Why aren’t you serving your Führer?”
With a sick feeling in their stomachs, the Shades realised at last who this evil tree had been.
“Where are you now, where?! I demand to know! Don’t think the gas chambers are closed to you!”
The Shades, no longer wishing to hear any of the utterly insane ravings of the tree, began to creep around the edge of the clearing, making their way to the other end of the stream, which would lead them out of the forest.
“You, you two! Who are you? State your names! You’re serving me now, stand up straight! The Führer commands it!”
The Shades had made the full half-circle of the clearing, and broke into a run, keen to escape from this terrible presence.
“Don’t run away from me! You can never run away from me! You’ll serve, all of you! I am Adolf Hitler, your eternal leader, you cannot leave without my permission! Do you hear? I am Adolf Hitler!”
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The stream led to the very edge of the forest – an abrupt edge, where the trees suddenly halted in a line, before a vast sand. Heat rose from the sand, making ripples in the air, and flame fell from the sky here and there. Around the Phlegethon-stream, though, the land was harder, cooler, and the Shades walked on this rather than step onto the burning sand. As they walked onwards, they saw the Shades which inhabited this desolate place – all burned, and scarred, and some lay sullenly, their backs on the searing sand, glaring defiantly up at the sky, whilst others ran perpetually here and there, much like in the Vestibule, whilst others, with purses hanging around their necks, still sat on the ground and gazed at it, that none around might see their faces. They were too far away over the sand to reach, but their shouts could be heard, echoing over the empty wastes.
“Lord, you are not good, but terrible! Bring yourself down here and burn!”
“Art, you say? There is no such thing! Empty scribbles by some deluded fool upon a canvas!”
“My five-year-old could do better than that!”
“I want, please, I want more! It felt wonderful, all my problems gone! How can you punish a man for happiness!”
“It’s love, not blasphemy! Can not a man love another man, as much as any woman?”
“It’s not my fault, they gave it to me, I never thought one might become so addicted!”
“Why, why, why?”
The shouts were all along these varying lines, some denouncing God, some attacking art, others pleading innocence in their defilement of the body. The violence here was that scornful kind of violence, that contempt for what is good, or what is natural – the Shades seemed divided, not just between those who lay, those who ran, and those who sat, but between those who cried out at the supposed injustice of their punishment, and those who accepted the truth, and lay in silence. The lesser Shade could feel some sympathy for some of them – and yet it seemed to him that each was probably lying as to the extent, or nature, of their sin, in a vain attempt at justification in a place where redemption was impossible.
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Post by Dante on Apr 30, 2005 3:43:47 GMT -5
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After walking for some time, the tracks of the Hell-Train came into view again, leading from some place far to the right and curving towards the river. Eventually, the train itself loomed into sight, having halted at the very edge of the cliff leading down from the Seventh Circle. The blood-water of the stream poured over the edge here, and just to the right of it, the train tracks led to the end of the cliff and some way over, but the ends were twisted, charred, and destroyed.
The carts which the Hell-Train pulled were empty now. All the Shades had been delivered to their final destinations, save for those who were standing in the burning sand at the edge of the cliff, looking down, with a devil wearing the uniform of the C.R.S., here with a train silhouette in place of a number, standing behind them.
“Alright, it’s time for you to go down,” the demon growled, waving an axe menacingly and glaring at the Shades who stood at the edge. “And once you’re down there, make sure you run. If not, it’ll be a long time before you reach the place for which you were intended.”
“I’m psyching myself up,” claimed one Shade, an arrogant-looking man with a handsome face.
“You’re taking too long,” the demon snarled, and shoved him with the butt of the axe. The Shade toppled off the edge and fell screaming down into the darkness below. The two travellers looked down to see if they could see him land, but the pit here was so deep, and so dark, that they could not see the bottom. It was surely deeper than the pit which they had descended into reach the Seventh Circle, and there was no other way down.
“Right, that’s all of ‘em,” this same demon said. “Time to get going back.”
“We can’t go back,” argued the driver, looking more soot-covered than ever. The wandering Shades could see right into his cab here, and saw that it was a mass of chains, with the driver-devil not chained just at his wrists, but all over himself – chains bound his ankles, legs, arms, body. The entire cab of the Hell-Train was filled with so many chains, binding its occupant in so many placesm that it was a wonder the driver could move at all.
“Why not?” asked the other devil.
“’Cause it’s broken down again,” argued the driver. “I’m trying to start it up, but no guarantees.”
The unchained devil roared in anger. “It’s not broken down, you lying little wretch. You’re just prevaricating again.”
“When have I ever prevaricated?” argued the driver, raising its eyes to the sky. “And besides, those two have yet to go over.”
The other devil looked at the two wandering Shades as though for the first time.
“I hadn’t noticed you,” it said. “Right, get ready to jump.”
“Is there no other way down?” asked the greater Shade, looking unnerved by the height.
“No,” answered the free devil.
“Yes,” answered the chained devil.
The two Shades promptly turned towards this one, whilst the free devil grew dark with rage.
“You can just call up Geryon,” the chained devil said. “He’s not averse to carrying anyone down there, if they treat him right.”
“Geryon can’t do it,” argued the free devil. “Not with all the Bowge-Devils rebelling. They’d stop him.”
“You underestimate Geryon,” replied the chained devil. “He can fight them off, no problem.”
“Excuse me,” asked the lesser Shade. “How do we summon Geryon, again?”
“Tell the truth!” roared the free devil. “Truth invites fraud. It always was the way.”
The chained devil had nothing to add, it seemed, to this.
The two Shades advanced to the edge of the cliff, looking nervous.
“The truth?” asked the lesser Shade. “But which one?”
Looking uncertainly over the edge, a sudden thought struck him, and he cried out “All men are sinners!”
There was a terrible roar from the pit, which echoed up at them, and something seemed to stir in the darkness – but nothing emerged.
“What, then?” asked the lesser Shade. “What more could he want?”
The greater Shade looked down into the pit, and then at his friend, and then at the pit again.
“In our journey,” said he, “we’ve seen many Shades who believe they’ve done no wrong. I believed the same as them, but all the way through here, I’ve been treated like a sinner, as have you. I’ve been judged, and sent down, by ancient beasts, who, though wicked, are also wise.”
The lesser Shade was surprised at this sudden epiphanic statement from his associate.
“In the Phlegethon, I met two people who were friends of mine, in life,” the greater continued. “None of us ever did anything because we thought it was the wrong thing to do, but with the benefit of hindsight…”
The greater Shade let out a deep sigh, and then looked back at his friend, and the two devils who stood by.
“Perhaps,” he finally said, “it is time to tell the truth.”
Stepping to the very edge, so that his feet almost hung into nothingness, the greater Shade cried out, across and down into the pit, “I am guilty!”
There was another roar from deep down – and this time, from the darkness, something emerged… A massive creature, almost as large as the Hell-Train, emerged; with the face of a just and trustworthy man; the forearms of the creature were like that of a lion, or great dog, all covered in fur; its hindquarters draconic, scaly, with a long, curving tail, with a sharp, pointed sting at the end. From its back flapped reptilian wings, which beat the air before the monster of all monsters came to rest on the edge of the Abominable Sand.
“They want to go down to the Malbowges, Geryon,” said the driver of the Hell-Train.
Geryon looked from the driver to the two Shades, and then said, in a deep, deep voice, “I will take them.”
The devils motioned to the two Shades to clamber onto the back of the beast; the free devil even consenting to assist in this climb. When the two Shades sat firmly in place, each grabbing fistfuls of Geryon’s fur that they might not fall, Geryon leapt into the air, flapping his might wings heavily, before flying down past the edge of the cliff, and into the abyss.
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Post by PJ on Apr 30, 2005 4:06:49 GMT -5
YZAY! FOUR POSTS OF ABYSS! Nicely done, Dante. I can't wait for the Malebowge. The meeting with Cheney I am also looking forwards too. Please, do continue. And I saw the Hitler thing coming. Didn't think he'd be that mad, though..... Also, the other day I saw the letters C.R.S. writen n a microwave, but it stood for something like Concave Reflex Something.
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