Time does not usually run strangely in Hell, it is a Lawful place not a Chaotic one.  Space here, on the other hand, is oftimes tormented and punished until it brokenly submits to the will of its superiors.

They are traveling down a long winding path, down and down the side of a stony mountain glowing in patches with its own heat, such as one might perhaps believe was leading to a lower plane of Hell, rather than from one part of Dis to another.  Cage after cage after cage is set into the side of that mountain, along that pathway.  Most of the cages do not glow dully red, but even those cages that don't, there is a wavering about them recognizable as heat.

Bad slaves in Dis are sent here, to scream and sob for months or years, while angrier things chained in those cages for centuries or millennia do express their wrath and sate their urges.  If you were entirely fresh meat to Hell, who'd never seen any part of Hell but Dis, you might think that you were witnessing cruelty indulged rather than moderate correction of a petitioner.  You might think that the screaming, begging, coherent-word-using wretches in the cages were what souls look like in Hell when they are broken.

Akkakarasot holds the meat aloft by her hair, in one hand, to let her see.  And also to prevent her from needing to trod the barbed spiked path below them.  It would give away far too much, if she were granted boots or any other protection.

Time does not usually run strangely in Hell, it is a Lawful place not a Chaotic one.  Space here, on the other hand, is oftimes tormented and punished until it brokenly submits to the will of its superiors.

They are traveling down a long winding path, down and down the side of a stony mountain glowing in patches with its own heat, such as one might perhaps believe was leading to a lower plane of Hell, rather than from one part of Dis to another.  Cage after cage after cage is set into the side of that mountain, along that pathway.  Most of the cages do not glow dully red, but even those cages that don't, there is a wavering about them recognizable as heat.

Bad slaves in Dis are sent here, to scream and sob for weeks or months, while angrier things chained in those cages for centuries or millennia do express their wrath and sate their urges.  If you were entirely fresh meat to Hell, who'd never seen any part of Hell but Dis, you might think that you were witnessing cruelty indulged rather than moderate correction of a petitioner.  You might think that the screaming, begging, coherent-word-using wretches in the cages were what souls look like in Hell when they are broken.

Akkakarasot holds the meat aloft by her hair, in one hand, to let her see.  And also to prevent her from needing to trod the barbed spiked path below them.  It would give away far too much, if she were granted boots or any other protection.

Time does not usually run strangely in Hell, it is a Lawful place not a Chaotic one.  Space here, on the other hand, is oftimes tormented and punished until it brokenly submits to the will of its superiors.

They are traveling down a long winding path, down and down the side of a stony mountain glowing in patches with its own heat, suggestive of leading to a lower plane of Hell, rather than from one part of Dis to another.  Cage after cage after cage is set into the side of that mountain, along that pathway.  Most of the cages do not glow dully red, but even those cages that don't, there is a wavering about them recognizable as heat.

Bad slaves in Dis are sent here, to scream and sob for weeks or months, while angrier things chained in those cages for centuries or millennia do express their wrath and sate their urges.  If you were entirely fresh meat to Hell, who'd never seen any part of Hell but Dis, you might think that you were witnessing cruelty indulged rather than moderate correction of a petitioner.  You might think that the screaming, begging, coherent-word-using wretches in the cages were what souls look like in Hell when they are broken.

Akkakarasot holds the meat aloft by her hair, in one hand, to let her see.  And also to prevent her from needing to trod the barbed spiked path below them.  It would give away far too much, if she were granted boots or any other protection.

Time does not usually run strangely in Hell, it is a Lawful place not a Chaotic one.  Space here, on the other hand, is oftimes tormented and punished until it brokenly submits to the will of its superiors.

They are traveling down a long winding path, down and down the side of a stony mountain glowing in patches with its own heat, suggestive of leading to a lower plane of Hell, rather than from one part of Dis to another.  Cage after cage after cage is set into the side of that mountain, along that pathway.  Most of the cages do not glow dully red, but even those cages that don't, there is a wavering about them recognizable as heat.

Bad slaves in Dis are sent here, to scream and sob for weeks or months, while angrier things chained in those cages for centuries or millennia do express their wrath and sate their urges.  If you were entirely fresh meat to Hell, who'd never seen any part of Hell but Dis, you might think that you were witnessing cruelty indulged rather than moderate correction of a petitioner.  You might think that the screaming, begging, coherent-word-using wretches in the cages were what souls look like in Hell when they are broken.

Akkakarasot holds the meat aloft by her hair, in one hand, to let her see.