Weird Revisited: Sin's Queen

The Phlegethon is a river of blood, formed from the runoff from infernal slaughterhouses and soul-rendering plants. Where it snakes through the city of Dis, one finds dens of depravity and vice run by the crime family that bears its name.  Belial is the boss here, and despite what you may have heard, Belial is a woman.

Or least, Belial is now.  Like all hell lords (ladies), Belial can take many forms. These days, Belial appears as a beautiful, dark-eyed woman, usually dressed in black. Her shadow is a deep red and tangible, like velvet.

The Phlegethon family runs brothels catering to unusual, often violent tastes, torture clubs, and brutal fight club gambling houses. Phlegethon’s entertainments draw hell denizens--both devil and damned--as well as visiting debauchees from all over the multiverse.

Combat: Belial uses a cat o’ nine tails when when she wishes to draw out the encounter.  She bleeds her foe tauntingly before the final kill. She carries a silver-plated infernal pocket pistol for those occasions when she can’t be bothered. It fires bullets specially crafted from truly depraved souls that cause lingering pain and disturbing nightmares even after they’re removed unless a their curse is removed.

Diabolical Abilities: Belial can know a mortal’s secret sins or secret desires of a carnal or violent nature at a glance. Her breath can cause an intoxicated delirium. Her slightest touch can cause intense pain or pleasure.

Pacts: Belial may be summoned with a drop of blood shed by a willing victim in either fear or ecstasy, caught in a silver chalice, and then boiled away over a small flame. Belial can reveal secret sins or desires of anyone (for a price) or provide instruction in techniques to prolong pain or pleasure.

Every Devil is a Cop

"So sooner or later, everybody's working for the Man."

- Go (1998)

Hell was born when border Archons of the Machine became convinced that It's algorithms would never conquer Chaos. Stronger measures were needed. These warriors cut a path into Chaos and fixed it with iron, stone and fire, and created Hell.

Though Hell's propaganda won't admit it (devil's have been rendered back to Lermure-hood for saying it), the War on Chaos has not gone well over the aeons. The Infernal Marches once safely reached to the Black Iron Prison of Carceri. Chaos not only has refused to be subdued, but it has been able to turn formerly loyal soldiers. Does anyone in Hell's hierarchy trust the Yugoloths or Gehreleths? No, they've both been compromised and will be the next targets as soon as the demon threat is ended.

If there's one bright spot it's the Material Plane. Diabolic agents have been able to turn an unexpected action by Chaos into a key recruiting tool. The soul-stuff of material beings may be relatively modest in absolute magnitude, but every transgressor that can be brought over and gotten under contract is added to the Infernal warchest.

Minor devils and trusted agents work to uncover (one might even say tempt) wayward, souls all in the name of recruiting--coercing--them as assets. Let the priggish supplicants of the Mountain fret about "right." There is no right in a fallen cosmos, outside the Law. And right now, the Law needs strength more than mercy.

And the fires of Hell are not eternal for those see their error. With toil and penance the most Chaos-ridden soul can become a devil, a stalwart soldier in the armies of a new order for the all things. Is that not mercy? 

Not all beings turned by infernal influence are small. Big fish are particularly prized, those with influence over other souls. Even Gods and their cults have been suborned to the diabolic agenda. Of course, there are also devils posing as gods to the unsuspecting people of material worlds.

Weird Revisited: A Conceptual Tour of the Lower Planes

This was one of the first things I wrote about planes back in April of 2010, when the blog was less than 6 months old. This is more conventional than the views of the lower planes I'd present later, but it contains some ideas I would revisit. I don't like to ever let a good idea go to waste.

In my current campaign setting, I'm working within the bounds of the traditional AD&D "canon," but trying to wring somewhat novel and interesting (at least to me) interpretations from it. One of these elements is the "standard model" of D&D cosmology--what's sometimes called "The Great Wheel."

As portrayed, it's a bit literal and mechanical, which is a shame because at its core its a crazy enough mashup concept to appear in a mimeographed pamphlet left in public places. Bissociation should be the watchword here. Or maybe multissociation? I think the planes can (and should) be both other realms of consciousness and physicalities. Conceptual overlays on the material world, and places where you can kill things and take their stuff.

To that end, I decided to riff on the concepts of the planes, and see what associations they brought out. Not all of these will be literalized in the version of the planes visited by adventurers from the world of Arn, but all of these associations might inform how I presented the planes and the alignment forces they're of which they're manifestations or vessels. Maybe later I'll get into all the heady faux-metaphysical theory I devised behind all this. Or maybe I'll xerox my on crackpot tract.

Anyway, I figured the best place to start was a trip to hell.

The Abyss: The Abyss is the best place to start as it was probably the first of these planes to exist--the formless, primordial chaos, tainted only by Evil. An Evil that emerged, ironically, only after a material world appeared to be appalled at, and to yearn to destroy. Without creation, destruction would just subside into roiling chaos. AD&D cosmology gives us 666 layers to the Abyss, but I suspect the Abyss is infinite. Maybe its the demon lords that number 666--and the so-called layers are really the lords. Maybe all the other demons are merely extensions of their substance and essences--their malign thoughts and urges accreted to toxic flesh. They're like a moral cancer maybe, seeking to metastisize to other planes and remake them in their image--or maybe madness is a better analogy, if we're talking about the kind of madness that afflicts killers in slasher films. A psychokiller madness on a universal scale.

Tarterus: This plane is later called the Tarterian Depths of Carceri or just Carceri. I'm calling it the Black Iron Prison, because it fits, and because it recalls Phillip K. Dick's VALIS and The Invisibles. It's called the prison plane--which the Manual of Planes interprets a little literally. Not that it isn't all the obvious bad things about prisons, but its also got a Kafka-esque quality, maybe. Most souls don't know why their there and don't remember how they got there. And watch what you say 'cause the bulls have informants all over. You wait and wait for a promised trial that never comes. I suspect souls get "renditioned" from the material plane and brought here for angering a god or an Ascended. The gaolers (as Lovecraft would have it) are the demodand or gehreleths. Demodand is an interesting name as it probably comes from Vance's "deodand" which is a real word meaning "a personal chattel forfeited for causing the death of a human being to the king for pious uses" which may (or may not) hint at some sort of origin for the demodands/gehreleths. It's also interesting that the kinds of demodands--shaggy, tarry, and slime--are all related to things that can sort of be confining or restricting.

Hades: Later called the Gray Waste (a better name, I think), it's a plane of apathy and despair. There's some Blood War nonsense later, but apathy and despair is a theme to conjure with. It makes me think of Despair of the Endless from Sandman and her somber realm of mirrors. The Gray Waste is depression and hopelessness actualized. Not the sort of place for adventures, maybe, but a place good for some creepy monsters to come from.

Gehenna: Later called the Fourfold Furnaces, or the Bleak Eternity of Gehenna. This is the plane of the daemons, later yugoloth--which is suitably Lovecraftian. Daemons I liked in Monster Manual II because they were sort of "the new fiends" that seemed fresher than demons and devils, which were kind of old-hat by that time. As neutral evil, the daemons have nothing to motivate them but evil, really. The various alternate names of the plane make me think of Jack Kirby's Apokolips and its ever-burning fires--Gehenna has an assocation with fire anyway, going back to its origins as the Valley of Hinnom. Like the denizens of Apokolips, I think daemons should represent evil in various forms from banal to sublime. The Bleak Furnances fire the machineries of war. Being close to the realm of lawful evil, they sometimes dress up in the trapping of law, but its just fancy uniform facade. The whole place might appear as an armed camp run by tin-plated fascists. There are secret police, and propaganda bureaus, and sadistic experiments.

The Nine Hells: Later Baator, which doesn't work as well. This is the realm of the fallen--not the romantic, Miltonic rebels, but the fascist generals who tried to stage a junta and got exiled. Sure, they dress it up in decadence and "do as thou wilt" but really they're all oppressive laws and legalistic fine-print. And every one of them thinks they'd be a better leader than their boss, so they plot and scheme while playing it obsequious and dutiful. Some of the devils might say they're still fighting the good fight--that they do what they do to preserve the system from the forces of chaos. A multiverse needs laws after all, they say. That's all just part of the scam.  Still, I like China Mieville's idea of New Crobuzon having an ambassador from hell.  Maybe no city in the world of Arn has an infernal ambassador, but at least Zycanthlarion, City of Wonders, has sort of a "red phone" that can get a high-placed devil on the line.  After all, better the devil you know...

Weird Revisited: Deals With Devils

This is more recent that my usual revisited posts, coming as it does from 2015, but it continues the theme from last week of taking the basic concept of Spelljammer (fantasy in space) and doing something different...

Art by Paul Harmon

Hyperspace works on laws altogether different than the amoral, mechanical physics ascendant in our universe. Some experts theorize that in the bulk in which the multiverse is embedded, forces that could be reasonably described as moral principles are objectively real--or at least as objectively real as anything else. Evil might be tangible and quantifiable. That would go a long way to explaining the Diaboli.

The Diaboli are a clade, a culture, or maybe a corporate entity that despoil worlds and corrupt other cultures—even whole universes—with faustian bargains of advanced technology and metaphysical knowledge. Maybe they've tempted some with miracle cures for disease or solutions for world hunger, but more often they appeal to baser instincts with advanced weapons of war or aids to the pursuit of pleasure. Whatever they offer, the cost is inevitably high--too high. The Diaboli are quick to sell fixes for the problems that arise, which inevitably just make things worse. At every turn, the Diaboli enhance their material wealth and create misery from which they are able siphon metaphysical energy. Some of their victims survive the devastation of their previous culture to become junior Diaboli themselves, and the toxic memeplex propagates like a multiversial pyramid scheme.

The Diaboli are very old; some believe they are the degenerate remnant of the Precursors who built the Ways. The truth, though, (at least as much as can be gleaned from a group as duplicitous as this one) is that the Diaboli fear the apotheosed Precursors. They believe the Precursors' Judgment is coming someday—and they plan to deny that judgment by becoming powerful enough fight back against gods. Only by draining or corrupting all potential rivals do they believe this end to be achievable. They view this as a net good for the entire multiverse and see themselves as defenders of order and civilization, albeit one where their inherently superior culture is in power.

Deals With the Devils

Art by Paul Harmon

Hyperspace works on laws altogether different than the amoral, mechanical physics ascendant in our universe. Some experts theorize that in the bulk in which the multiverse is embedded, forces that could be reasonably described as moral principles are objectively real--or at least as objectively real as anything else. Evil might be tangible and quantifiable. That would go a long way to explaining the Diaboli.

The Diaboli are a clade, a culture, or maybe a corporate entity that despoil worlds and corrupt other cultures—even whole universes—with faustian bargains of advanced technology and metaphysical knowledge. Maybe they've tempted some with miracle cures for disease or solutions for world hunger, but more often they appeal to baser instincts with advanced weapons of war or aids to the pursuit of pleasure. Whatever they offer, the cost is inevitably high--too high. The Diaboli are quick to sell fixes for the problems that arise, which inevitably just make things worse. At every turn, the Diaboli enhance their material wealth and create misery from which they are able siphon metaphysical energy. Some of their victims survive the devastation of their previous culture to become junior Diaboli themselves, and the toxic memeplex propagates like a multiversial pyramid scheme.

The Diaboli are very old; some believe they are the degenerate remnant of the Precursors who built the Ways. The truth, though, (at least as much as can be gleaned from a group as duplicitous as this one) is that the Diaboli fear the apotheosed Precursors. They believe the Precursors' Judgment is coming someday—and they plan to deny that judgment by becoming powerful enough fight back against gods. Only by draining or corrupting all potential rivals do they believe this end to be achievable. They view this as a net good for the entire multiverse and see themselves as defenders of order and civilization, albeit one where their inherently superior culture is in power.

An Update Infernal

The above is Mammon, boss of the Pluton family, ably rendered by Jeremy (that Dandy in the Underworld). More images of Hell's hoods are forthcoming.  I figured it was time to update the Weird Adventures Index with a the whole rogues gallery.  Check out these posts if you missed them the first time:

     Andras: "Hell's Hoods: The Owl"
     Avernus family: "Hell's Hoods: Meet the Avernus Family"
     Belial: "Hell's Hoods: Sin's Queen"
     Bifrons: "Hell's Hoods: Two-Faced Politician"
     Mammon: "Hell's Hoods: The Fat Man"
     Moloch: "Hell's Hoods: The Bull"
     Pluton family: "Hell's Hoods: Casino Infernale"

Hell's Hoods: Sin's Queen

The Phlegethon is a river of blood, formed from the runoff from infernal slaughterhouses and soul-rendering plants. Where it snakes through the city of Dis, one finds dens of depravity and vice run by the crime family that bears its name.  Belial is the boss here, and despite what you may have heard, Belial is a woman.

Or least, Belial is now.  Like all hell lords (ladies), Belial can take many forms. These days, Belial appears as a beautiful, dark-eyed woman, usually dressed in black. Her shadow is a deep red and tangible, like velvet.

The Phlegethon family runs brothels catering to unusual, often violent tastes, torture clubs, and brutal fight club gambling houses. Phlegethon’s entertainments draw hell denizens--both devil and damned--as well as visiting debauchees from all over the multiverse.

Combat: Belial uses a cat o’ nine tails when when she wishes to draw out the encounter.  She bleeds her foe tauntingly before the final kill. She carries a silver-plated infernal pocket pistol for those occasions when she can’t be bothered. It fires bullets specially crafted from truly depraved souls that cause lingering pain and disturbing nightmares even after they’re removed unless a their curse is removed.

Diabolical Abilities: Belial can know a mortal’s secret sins or secret desires of a carnal or violent nature at a glance. Her breath can cause an intoxicated delirium. Her slightest touch can cause intense pain or pleasure.

Pacts: Belial may be summoned with a drop of blood shed by a willing victim in either fear or ecstasy, caught in a silver chalice, and then boiled away over a small flame. Belial can reveal secret sins or desires of anyone (for a price) or provide instruction in techniques to prolong pain or pleasure.

Hell's Hoods: The Bull

A river of blood arises from slaughterhouse and rendering plant runoff flowing through a maze of ditches and channels.  This is the Malebolge: the territory of an infernal crime family of the same name. Besides running the processing facilities for damaged souls, the Malebolge family promotes violent crimes and extortion on the Material Plane.

The family’s boss is the arch-devil Moloch. Whether dressed in a butcher’s apron or a suit, he’s imposing: a hulking figure with the head of a bull.  His upper body and head are skinless, and his horns and eyes are black as onyx.  Smoke periodically snorts from his nostrils. His shadow is thick and the color of congealing blood.

Combat: Moloch fights like a minotaur--and one of great strength.  He prefers to kill foes with his hands, horns, or hooves as opposed to weapons; He particularly disdains firearms.

Diabolical Abilities: Moloch’s presence can cause fear within a 20 ft. radius. He can cause pain in anyone he touches, but he only uses this to aid coercion or intimidation. Moloch has a special interest in drawing the young into the criminal life, and despite his horrific form, has an unusual affinity with adolescents.

Pacts: Moloch may be summoned by burning money (taken from another) within a circle drawn in blood on the floor of a meat locker. Moloch can cause an “accident” to happen to a place of business. He knows the location of any secreted stashes of money, and where the remains of any individual murdered and hidden on the prime material plane may be found.   

Hell's Hoods: Two-Faced Politician

Dispater rules the infernal metropolis of Dis, but he likes to stay behind the scenes. The day to day operation of the city is overseen by an elected mayor.  For centuries that post has been held by Bifrons.

Bifrons serves as the Dis family underboss. Though publically he keeps a bit of distance from the activities of the Hell Syndicate, the damned are not fooled. They also know that whatever candidates may rise and however fierce the campaign, Bifrons is always re-elected when the ballots are counted.

When greeting his constituents and pressing the flesh, Bifrons appears as man with a moon-shaped head and a wide, benevolent grin.  He dresses in a gold business suit.  He speaks largely in political platitudes delivered in a convivial voice.  If there were genuine babies in Hell, he would probably kiss them.

In private, he reveals more of his true nature: he’s two-faced--literally.  The two faces are sagging and ill-fitting on whatever lies beneath.  They face to each side and are stitched together in the middle with rawhide. The face on Bifrons’s right is something like his public face, but ill-fitting skinned makes his appear sunken and shadowed, his sagging grin is grotesque and idiotic. The face on his left is that of snarling monster: pale green with a mouth full of crooked teeth, and irisless eyes lolling in their sockets under bushy brows.

In either form, he smells of a bit too-thick cologne. His shadow flickers and jitters like a silent movie image.

Combat: Bifrons prefers to avoid combat and talk his way out of things.  When he’s unable to do so, he prefers the personal touch: He’s an adept wrestler, as strong as a [stone] giant. For quick resolution to problems, he can backstab like a 10th level thief with his gleaming gold letter-opener, should the opportunity present itself.

Diabolic Abilities: Bifrons can charm at will. Through his oratory, he can perform various bard-like abilities, including suggestion and inspire.

Pacts: Bifrons is willing to help those dealing with issues of politics or involved in elections. He can also reveal the damaging secrets of any politician or political leader, if they exist.  A evocator must put on formal clothes and stand in front if a mirror, practicing a speech in which calls to Bifrons have been inserted. The devil will appear in the mirror in place of the person's reflection.

Bifrons may gift his suit to a mortal.  Though it’s appearance changes depends on who wears it, it always brings success and public acclaim--for a time.  Eventually, ruin and scandal are its rewards..

Hell's Hoods: Casino Infernale

Among the sinful (and dubious) pleasures of Hell are the gambling houses in its sprawling city of Dis. From every back alley dice game to high-class casino, these are owned by the Pluton family and run by the powerful capo, Asmodai. He also oversees the Hell Syndicate’s gambling interests on the Material Plane, bringing more souls to Hell's gates with the promise of riches.

Asmodai appears as a red-skinned, horned man whose good looks are spoiled by a almost perpetual leer. He dresses in the hippest of silk suits (also red). His voice is as smooth as any crooners--when he wants it to be.  He casts no shadow, but when he passes by, mortals hear fevered, whispering voices urging them to take chances, promising the big score.

Asmodai turns a pair of dice in his left hand, that he can tie to the fate of any mortal (with their consent--though not necessarily with full awareness of what they’re consenting to) for a single toss of perhaps life and death importance. He is said to be able manipulate fate on a small scale to make him difficult to kill in combat. His primary weakness is his own predilection for gambling: He finds it hard to pass on a bet.

Often seen in Hell’s ritziest casinos is a beautiful woman who appears to be made of gold. She moves gracefully amid the tables where chips redeemable for damned soul fragments are wagered, smiling (and even occasionally winking) at hard-eyed and sneering pit (fiend) bosses. This is Beleth, Asmodai’s moll. The old grimoires say her diabolic beauty has tempted men to blasphemy and murder, and not much seems to have changed. She can turn anything she touches to gold, and also return things to their original form at her whim. She’s chattier than most devils and is a good source of infernal gossip, if she takes a liking to you.

Beleth's velvet shadow is flecked with gold dancing like dust motes in a sunbeam.

Hell's Hoods: The Fat Man

The arch-devil Mammon is the lord of greed. He’s boss of the Pluton Family, which keeps the books for the entire Hell Syndicate and sees to the corrupting of mortal souls with avarice. Mammon has his meaty talons in loansharking, real estate schemes, gambling, and counterfeiting.


In this age, Mammon appears as a rotund, horned, oxblood-skinned humanoid in a banker’s suit. His scrawny legs might not be able to support his bulk, if it weren’t for the efforts of his small (yet obviously strong) wings. With them, he's as light on his feet as a ballerina, if the need arises. His flabby jowls are pockmarked. His golden eyes glint like dancing coins in the big score never obtained. He smells like old leather. His shadow is gray, swirling, and pungent as cigar smoke.

Combat: Mammon assiduously avoids combat whenever possible. If necessary, he uses his diabolic abilities below.

Diabolic Abilities: The infernal boss possesses a gilded pocket watch that can stop time in a room or small area for up to 3 minutes or cause a person to age 2-20 years. Turning any unit of currency in his hand, Mammon can fascinate a victim who fails a saving throw with dreams of avarice. He can only use this power once on any given individual. Mammon can tell the complete history of any piece of money he holds, including (in broadstrokes) the desires and goals (particularly sinful ones) of anyone who held it.

Pacts: Summoning Mammon involves heating a coin taken off a person recently dead in a sulfur flame until it burns the summoner’s hand. Mammon can unerring locate any item of monetary value anywhere on the material plane. He can magical alter any financial records to hide fraud or any financial related crime from the agents of Management. The most common reason Mammon is petitioned, however, is the acquire wealth--though this requires a faustian contract.

Hell's Hoods: Meet the Avernus Family

Damned souls fresh of Charon’s ferry from the Underworld, step off into Hell’s quarantine and processing centers. All this territory along the docks on the Acheron, is controlled by the Avernus crime family. It’s boss, Andras, was described yesterday. Now, let’s take a look at a few of his subordinates:

Murmur: Andras’s moll--and his underboss. She appears is a pale woman with straight, black hair, wearing a cloak of vulture feathers and little else. She wields an obsidian knife when forced to do so. She is an adept necromancer, and will summon the spirits of the dead for a summoner for interrogation. Murmur runs the processing center and ensures every one of the damned go to their appropriate reward.

Barbatos: The consigliere of family Avernus, he appears as a thickly-bearded old man dressed as an Old World peasant. He roams near the docks of the Acheron like a vagrant, mumbling to himself and setting simple traps for vermin. He could be just another of the damned, driven mad by his experiences. The old devil may be damned, but he is far from mad. He knows the languages of birds and animals. He’s adept at settling disputes, mostly in his family’s favor.

Flaures: A captain with the appearance of a humanoid leopard with flames dancing in his eyes. He’s sometimes mistaken for the Cat Lord--which is a good way to earn the Cat Lord’s ire. He dresses in dapper suits suggestive of Ascianan styles and smokes cigarettes in a holder. He performs most of his assassinations by fires. For a summoner, he can answer questions on past, present, and future, but is also willing to make contract hits on demons or devils.

Hell's Hoods: The Owl

The devil known as Andras the Owl is the current boss of the Avernus family in the Hell Syndicate. His family’s territory is closest to the Astral Plane. As long there as been a Hell, they've been tasked with the processing of new arrivals: both run-of-the-mill evil souls and those fulfilling general faustian contracts.  

Andras rose through the diabolic ranks as a hitman and since he became boss, the Avernus family has gone into the business of murder for hire.

In the modern age, Andras appears as a thin man with the head of an owl in an immaculate suit (of conservative cut) and gloves. His large, soulless eyes glow like headlamps.  He never speaks; communications are carried out through surrogates (sometimes a Hell Syndicate made man, other times a black dire wolf that accompanies him) with whom he seems to communicate telepathically. He smells like clove cigarettes. His angular, razor-edged shadow can cut creatures less than 1 HD that it falls on.

Combat: Andras uses knives of a silver-like material that cause wounds that will not heal normally. A favorite tactic is cutting a mortal’s face in a Cheshire grin, then coming back to kill them on a night of the new moon months or years later.  The blades will sublimate if exposed to sunlight in about an hour. He also has a high-powered rifle that appears to be made from the fossilized bone of a qlippothic beast and fires hell-glass bullets containing fragments of a sphere of annihilation. Any entity hit by them is sucked into the void contained within.

Diabolical Abilities: Andras's unblinking stare can cause severe inflammation of the eyes, resulting in temporary blindness.(lasts 1-10  rounds of successful saving throw, 2-20 days on failure). Once per encounter, he may issue the croaking cry of a night-raven which may cause fear in those who hear it.

Pacts: Andras will take contracts for hits on any mortal being, particularly if doing so will put others’ souls in peril. A petitioner must fatten 13 white mice on his own blood and then feed them to an owl of pure black plumage.  The petitioner must collect the regurgitated pellets and use them in the drawing of a ritual circle. Summoning wards must be strong; if Andras escapes he will most likely kill everyone present.