Deep in the bowels of Hell, darkness crept like a living thing.
It oozed between cracks in the obsidian walls, coiled around twisted pillars, and lapped at the edges of sputtering flame pits.
At the center of this nightmare landscape rose a spire that seemed to mock the very concept of architecture. It twisted upwards in impossible angles. It surface was a maze of screaming faces frozen in eternal agony.
At its apex, that pierced the dark clouds above, the Council of Hell convened.
Demon lords materialized one by one. Mammon appeared in a shower of tarnished coins that clinked and rolled across the obsidian floor, a thin silk of gold cover his body. Beelzebub's swarm of flies converged into a vaguely humanoid shape, bits of rotting flesh visible between the buzzing insects. Asmodeus slithered from the shadows, his scales catching what little light there was and refracting it in nauseating patterns.
