Far beneath the mortal world, down in the sunless depths of the planet, a small figure hurriedly made its way across a plain of colorless grass. Clad in form concealing robes and wraps that left only its long ears and amphibious upper face visible, the toad-like creature pattered up a path toward a looming complex of cyclopean onyx walls. Clutched in his thin arms was a ledger filled with testimonies taken from new arrivals of the dark world. Even those unfamiliar with the creature could tell he was excited by the slight hop-skip in his gait.

"Joyous day!" The minion cheered to himself in the Khthonic tongue. "Oh, most blessed night!"

The toadie reached the gatehouse of the citadel and pressed against the mighty iron and stone gates. They creaked open just far enough for the small creature to slip inside before banging shut behind him. Inside the edifice, all was quiet save for the soft steps of the robed being. He only paused to regard another figure slumped against the wall under a faintly glowing ghost light contained in a brazier.

"It will not be much longer, my dearly departed friend." The hopeful amphibian told the skeleton giddily. "So enjoy your slumber while you can. We will be very busy very soon!"

The benthic being pushed through another set of gates to a vast courtyard of gnarled ebony trees festooned with the bones of many a mortal creature and a few purported immortal ones. A pale path of pulverized bone cut through the osseous forest toward other areas of the complex including the looming cathedral-like structure on the other side. The robed minion quickly moved down the path, leaving small puffs of dust as he went. In time, he reached a clearing in the center of the boneyard where the minion waited impatiently for others to arrive.

"The signs are all here." He muttered as he fidgeted excitedly. "It has to be him."

The sound of powerful wings and the low whoosh of something flying overhead caught his attention. Out of the sunless sky dropped four-winged daemons who kicked up a small storm of dust as they flared their wings before landing. Three of them, sisters, wore practical mixes of form-flattering red silk and protective cold-iron armor embossed with brass and were armed with barbed scourges. The fourth loomed over the rest in black and silver armor with a pale mask frozen in stern aspect beneath a hood and a large scythe by his side.

"Telkhine, here we are." The eldest of the sisters greeted plainly. "Now what is so important that you had to call us away from our duties?"

"I have spoken with that horde of new arrivals. They had some rather interesting stories to tell." Telkhine said conspiratorially as he held out the ledger for them. "Here. Read this tome."

"You brought us here to humor the rumors of shades?" The hooded reaper's four wings twitched irritably. "Have you been sampling your products again, alchemist?"

"Only a little." The toady grinned beneath his wraps. "But I was of sober mind when I interviewed the departed. Read and you will see."

The eldest of the sister took the tome and opened it to a page Telkhine had bookmarked for them. Her sisters read over her shoulders while the taller reaper looked over her head. The ledger contained tales of a necromancer summoned the dead, a curse of Fear and Dread withering a city and a dark cleric giving a spectral host their last rites. The four's expressions ran the gantlet from inquisitive to barely contained excitement.

"Most of the shades met their end with the destruction of the Crystal City. Yet they still received the proper rites of death and were blessed to enter without paying the ferry's toll." Telkhine explained knowingly. "There is but one who possessed that type of power."

"Hidden One!" The youngest sister hopping in place in joy. "He is back! Ooh~"

"Calm yourself, sister." The middle sister placed a restrictive hand on her giddy sibling's shoulder. "He might be back. I want him to be almost as much as you but this is not a guarantee."

"This is convincing evidence." The eldest admitted. "If one can trust the word and memory of mortals."

"I find myself agreeing with the Erinyes." The reaper said as he rubbed the chin of his mask skeptically. "The shock of transitioning from living to dead tends to take a toll on their minds."

"That I cannot deny." Telkhine admitted as he dug through his robes for something. "But some truths are set in stone like the walls the make up the shrine beyond the Gates. Behold."

The minion produced a large piece of parchment and unrolled it to reveal a charcoal rubbing. The picture depicted a variety of wretched creatures. Some appeared to be clawing, biting and otherwise fighting each other while others reached outward as if beseeching some unseen deity for mercy. The focus of the rubbing was a group of equines. Among them was a mare betraying a stallion, a unicorn trying to keep his head on and a more regal-looking unicorn shying away from invisible tormentors. The quad-winged being snatched the parchment out of the toady's hands and looked over it intently.

"That hunk of rock has not changed in eons." The reaper's skepticism began to falter. "Could it really be true?"

"Of course it is true!" The youngest Erinyes was practically euphoric. "If our Lord was at the Crystal City, he might still be in the North. We should-"

"Hold, sister." The eldest sister cut her off by snapping the book shut. "Whether our sovereign has returned or not, we still have duties to attend to."

"She is right." The middle Erinyes agreed. "Of that multitude of souls, a veritable horde was condemned to Tartarus. An influx of that size tends to make waves and the demons have been agitated as of late. It is disquieting."

"Then we have no choice but to wait for the Hidden One to come to us." The reaper said as he returned the rubbing to Telkhine. "I suggest we keep this revelation between us. We have preserved a delicate order down here by perpetuating the 'Silent King' myth. There is no need to compromise that until our Lord walks among us once more."

"Wise counsel, Hand of Death." The eldest Erinyes nodded to the reaper before returning the ledger to the still excited alchemist. "You have our thanks for bringing this to our attention."

"You are most welcomed." The toady bowed as much as his stocky stature would allow. "That was all I had. Thank you for coming."

With nothing more to be said, the four-winged daemons took to the air and scattered to attend to their eternal duties. Left alone, Telkhine stored the ledge beneath his robes and made his way to the palace. He entered the gravely quiet structure and muted his footfalls as if he were sneaking into a temple in the middle of a sermon. The amphibian descended a set of stairs into the catacombs of the complex. Here, the smooth and clean-cut stone gave way to more organic and rounded obsidian and rock carved from primordial lava flows. Telkhine passed cold forges and skeletons of the smiths that once worked them on his way to the furthest, deepest reaches of the undercroft. The natural formations returned to cut cyclopean stone as the minion reached a set of cold-iron doors with the glyph for 'hidden' etched in the middle. The amphibious being ran a hand over the doors, a wide smile plastered over his hidden mouth.

"Soon, my Lord." Telkhine whispered reverently. "Very soon."

Beyond the pale plains, following a river of fire that ran into the cavernous depths, the sunless sky was illuminated by the infernal fire of Tartarus. The eternal screams of the damned mixed with the bestial roars of their tormentors in the foul air of the Pits. Reaching ever downward, far from any hope granting light, the Great Prison held the absolute worst the Overworld could produce. Monsters in horrific and familiar forms alike were judged, sorted and punished in accordance to their sins. While many had tried, none had ever escaped the insurmountable power of Tartarus. At least, that was how it used to be. Within the last thousand years, the power that kept the denizens of Hell contained had weakened. A warlock and a cursed city had endeavored to accomplished the impossible and had succeeded if only for a time. The warlock had been returned to his cell after a few months and recently so had the populace of the city in a most permanent fashion. Still, the damage to the reputation of the 'inescapable' prison had been done and it was now known to the inmates that escape was very much a possibility. While some dismissed this glint of hope as nothing more than the first step on the road to crushing disappointment, there was one particularly wicked hellion who saw it as a spark to ignite something hundreds of years in the making. To that end, it had enlisted the aid of some of the most despicable fiends in the Pits. It was with one of these demonic allies that the mastermind traveled to the First Circle of Tartarus to secure the newly condemned populace and denizens of the Crystal City.

"Is this all of them?" The schemer asked one of the chimeric demons of the Circle.

"All that we could corral before they made it to His Honor's house." The arachnid-esque abomination chittered past drooling mandibles. "Now, I believe we agreed on some form of compensation. Nothing is free in Tartarus."

"Not just yet, huntress." The mastermind turned toward a red robed creature beside it. "Is this enough for you to complete our project?"

The figure clicked and whirred as its single red eye scanned over the eclectic collected souls. It beeped twice as its eye flashed green in confirmation.

"It would require each and every one." The fabricated fiend droned. "But it can be done."

"Would we ever let you down?" The huntress scoffed. "Now, deliver what was promised."

"Yes, of course." The hellion produced a bag of clinking gold. "A sum of gold, a position within the exodus and not one word toward your master."

"Ah, good." The huntress took the bribe and counted out the pieces to her fellow demons. "They're all yours."

The chimera churls stalked off, leaving the damned shades with their new owners. One of them, a crystal stallion, trotted forward to speak for his fellows. The mastermind arched an eyebrow at his boldness.

"What happens now?" The pitiful pony asked.

In response, the hellion conjured a wave of hellfire that washed over the horde. The shades screamed in terror as the scorching flames enveloped them and dragged them toward the mastermind like a receding tide. They could only struggle in vain as they were sucked into a phylactery of transparent crystal and polished silver. As the last soul disappeared within the device, it gained a sinister crimson glow. The fiend inspected the slowly pulsating container before it passed it to the mechanical demon.

"That should make transportation considerably easier." The hellion said with a cautious glance around. "I suggest we return to your shop less we be discovered."

"Recall sequence initiated." The mech-fiend droned as it flicked a switch within itself. "Stand close to me. Return to the Fourth Circle in three...two...one!"

Strange arcane energy crackled around the pair as the robed demon counted down. Once it finished, they vanished in a flash of light and crack of thunder. A few levels deeper within Tartarus, they reappeared within a cavernous space of weird machines, scaffolding and other facets of industry. The two stood shakily as they recovered from the harrowing trip.

"I will never get used to that." The mastermind grumbled. "So how long will it take?"

"You cannot rush art." The fabricated fiend droned as it shifted toward a workbench and placed the phylactery in a receptacle. "I will deliver it to you myself once it is complete. I expect my payment to be ready when I do."

"Payment upon delivery." The hellion nodded in agreement. "Can your teleporter send me home?"

"There is a cooldown period followed by a recharge period." The mech-fiend stated. "You are welcome to stay until it is ready."

"No. I'll just do it myself." The mastermind shook its head as conjured hellfire began to surround it. "Do not keep me waiting, Soul Smith."

With the implied threat hanging in the air, the fiend was engulfed in flames and vanished from the forge. It reappeared in another structure of stone and metal and nearly collapsed from the exertion. The hellion had to brace against a wall to stop itself from hitting the floor.

"Nine Circles, I hate doing that." It grumbled. "No wonder most take the scenic route."

Once it had steadied itself, the mastermind continued onto its next errand. Collecting the souls and commissioning the Soul Smith were key parts of its plan but there was still much to be done. Another crucial step involved gathering certain individuals and bringing them into its service. As traveling the Circles to find them was a risky and time consuming process and the hellion was not the most popular fiend in Hell, an agent was required.

"Fortunately, I already have one." The hellion muttered with a grin as it made its way down a hall toward a lift. "He just needs to be put back together."

Along the way, the mastermind was joined by a pair of hulking demons. They resembled minotaurs in general shape with horns that curved forward and thick bone-like plates over raw red muscle. They brought ham-sized fists over their broad chests in salute.

"Your Infernal Majesty." They rumbled like avalanches.

"At ease." The self-declared Hierarch of Hell said with a wave as the two brutes fell into line behind it. "Has anything happened in my absence?"

"A few of the Banished have already arrived of their own volition, almost all of them from this Circle." One of the bodyguards reported. "They have been given quarters but we have had to keep them off the harem of succubi. Not that they needed out help."

"Good. I need those lustful lechers unspoiled." The Tyrant of Tartarus nodded approvingly as the three of them boarded a lift.

The moving mountains of muscle lowered the lift via chains into a sub-level of the structure. The Hierarch suppressed the urge to gag as the fetid stench of death and decay reached its nostrils. The lift came to a halt and one of the burly demons lifted a drop gate for his brother and superior to pass under. Inside was a low-ceiling hall of greenish-white marble with ossuaries filled with corpses of various creatures from equines to dragons. The floor was covered with dried blood and other vile effluents from bodies being dragged deeper into the hall by those who called this fresh Hell home. One such vile creature was inspecting the relatively intact body of a mare when the three entered.

"Ah, visitors." The demon straightened up and clasped its gnarled hands together. "And royal ones at that."

"Spare me the pleasantries, haemonculus." The mastermind said dismissively. "Is he ready?"

"My assistants are putting the finishing touches on him." The flesh wizard smiled a little too widely for the shape of his head. "Come, come. I will take you to him."

The three followed after the demonic surgeon through the halls. Beyond the storage pits, the marble walls changed to writhing flesh, still whimpering faces stretched over iron frames and solid bone in accordance to each haemonculi's tastes and type of workshop. The one they were following lead them to a particularly horrific but vitally important shop for disembodied demons who wished to be flesh and ichor for whatever reason. The workshop was lined with rows of noticeably female corpses fitted into constricting cages. Most were still and dormant but others twitched and moaned in false life as the hellish magic of the flesh wizards restored enough of their being for one part of their anatomy to function.

"I never want to be brought back this way." One of the clearly disturbed brutes muttered as the gravid belly of a pegasus pulsated with the dark life within. "Just let me circle the cosmic drain. Tartarus will decide if I am worthy to exist."

His ruler did not acknowledge him as their guide took them to a table surrounded by lesser flesh wizards. Above them hung the violated corpse of a nanny goat, its midsection recently ruptured and still dripping with blood. The assistants were busy cleaning the reborn being and checking its integrity. They parted as their master neared, revealing a cobalt blue ram with his limbs stitched expertly to his body.

"I cannot thank you enough for giving me this opportunity." The haemonculus said earnestly. "I've brought back countless demons but never have I done it with one of the Banished."

"Are my requests in place?" The Hierarch ignored the demon's celebration.

"Huh? Oh! Yes, of course." The flesh wizard nodded. "All that remains is for you to rouse him from stillbirth. You said you have his trinkets?"

"He does." The fiend waved one the bodyguards forward. "You have no idea what he had to dig through to find them."

"Not fun." The brute concurred as it produced a collection of small bells with some attached to a collar and others by strings.

The demon secured the collar around the ram's stitched neck and tired the remaining bells to his horns. His superior came forward and looked over the agent to be. It sent a single spark of infernal power into the body and flicked one of the bells.

*Ring-ring*

"AHH!!!" The ram bolted upright with a gasp, his red eyes wide in shock. "Not the teeth!"

"He's alive!" The haemonculus proclaimed the obvious. "Haha! He's alive!"

"Wha-?" The goat looked around in blind confusion as his panicked breathing slowed. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You have been remade, Lord Grogar of Tambelon." The mastermind greeted the resurrected ram with a smile. "You are in the Fleshworks."

"The Fleshworks? Then that means..." Grogar felt a drop of blood on his shoulder and looked up to find his unwilling surrogate mother. "...by the Bells!"

"Yes! Truly a brilliant step in demonic progress!" The flesh wizard caressed its latest creation as if he were a delicate piece of art. "None of this would have been possible without your sponsor."

The demon indicated said sponsor. Grogar rubbed the lingering blindness from his eyes and beheld that last being he suspected to see. He composed himself as was befitting a ram of his rank and bowed respectfully.

"Infernal Queen Corona Blaze." The fallen lord said thankfully. "I am eternally in your debt."

"Yes. You are." Corona agreed. "And I intend to collect."

"Of course." The cobalt ram fought the urge to roll his eyes in not-surprise. "What would you have of me?"

"A few things but first and foremost is in the Fields of Punishment." The Alicorn of Tartarus informed her new agent. "There is a certain centaur I need."

And that concludes my first story and its revisions. Please leave your thoughts below or in the blog. Any feedback is appreciated.