After my last post (https://www.reddit.com/DnDBehindTheScreen/comments/ic37lo/the_nine_hells_of_baator_made_the_layers_unique/) got so much positive feedback, I decided to flesh out things even more.
I wanted to add additional Archdevils that were not part of my first post. Therefore, I had to redo some of the ones I posted before. You can either use the old one or this one, whichever you prefer. As mentioned before, I am preparing a campaign set in the 9 hells of Baator. And reading through the material (special thanks to kami1996 who did a fantastic work bringing the nine hells to life in the Atlas of the Planes), the layers felt very samey, Fierna and Glasya are nearly indistinguishable, etc. The goal was to make each layer as distinct as possible by applying a theme to each layer while still staying as close to the source material as possible. So I came up with these different descriptions for each layer.
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Layer	General look	Earth	Elevations	Water	Vegetation
Avernus	Battling waste	Basalt/bones/skulls	Meteor Craters	Rivers/lakes of blood	Thorn bushes
Dis	City	Metal and Concrete	Skyscrappers	acid	None
Minaurus	Nature	Clay, humus, peat	Thick jungles/giant trees	oily brown swamps	rotten trees/bushes
Phelgetos	Fire	Obsidian/Brimstone	Volcanoes	Rivers of lava/ fire
Stygia	Cold Water	Ice	Icebergs	Dark blue Ocean	Algae and seaweed
Malbolge	Living	slate covered by flesh	giant bones, abscesses	bodily secretions	Hair, bones, teeth
Maladomini	Decay	Marble	Ruins	filth, excrement	withered plants
Cania	Freezing Mountains	glaciers and snow	Mountain ranges	Ice	Crystaline trees
Nessus	Hot Deep Pit	Limestone	Giant Stalagmite	Deepest Black	Fungus

​
​

Layer	Air	Smells	Sounds	Precipitation	Sky
Avernus	brown smoke	Dead bodies	Eternal fighting	Meteor showers	red
Dis	Thick grey smog	Exhausts	Construction	Acid rain	no sky visible
Minaurus	humid green fog	Pestilence	Animals dying	Oily razor-sharp hail	very bright yellow
Phelgetos	yellow haze	Sulphur, burned flesh	Screams	green lightning	black
Stygia	clear	salty water	Silence	none	clear blue
Malbolge	very humid	sweat/blood	wet gurgling/munching	bodily secretions	pink
Maladomini	arid	stench of filth	flies buzzing	dust storms	green
Cania	thin air, white fog	Ice and snow	Wind blowing	Blizzards	White with a blue sun
Nessus	Mirages	Moist caves	Rattle of chains	Hot rain	Deep purple

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Now I came up with a purpose for each one. I like to think that Asmodeus planned the 9 Hells to become a paradise. He wanted to show the gods how he would create an utopia. So everything should serve a higher purpose and work together. At least in theory:
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Layer	Theme	Purpose	Basis of Economy	Home of	Common Non-Devils
Avernus	Battlefield	Defence	Mercenaries	Bearded devils	All different kinds
Dis	Industry	Industry	Weapons	Bone devils	Constructs
Minaurus	Exploitation	Trade	Resources	Barbed devils	Wererats
Phelegtos	Pain	Justice	Punishment	Chain devils	Succubi and Incubi
Stygia	Memories	Graveyard	Archives	Amnizu	Hydroloths
Malbolge	Addiction	Entertainment	Narcotics	Erynnies	Rakshasas
Maladomini	Bureaucracy	Education	Waste Disposal	Horned devils	Oozes
Cania	Arcana	Research	Magic	Ice devils	Frost giants
Nessus	Dominion	Government	Tithe	Pit fiends	None

​
Next is a description of some interesting locations to visit on each layer. Most of the locations can be found on the forgotten realms wiki (https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Nine_Hells) or in the posts made by kami1996 . The ones marked with an asterisk are new inventions and I tried to name them as good as possible. If you find some of the names corny or have better ideas, please comment.
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Layer	Location	Purpose	Description
Avernus	Zariel's Fortress	Home of Zariel	Giant Flying Fortress
	Bel's Forge	Home of Bel	Volcano
	Wandering Emporium	Market and Bazar	Travels between Avernus and Material Plane
	Styx' Watchtower	Watchtower	Protect Styx and Hells from demons
	Stygian Dock	Maintenance	The flying fortresses/machines need fuel
	Various	Home of Warlords	Infernal War Machines and Fortresses
Dis	The Iron Tower	Home of Dispater	Can be seen everywhere in Dis
	Acid Lake and Giant Wall	Fortification	Acid moat and giant wall surrounds city
	Mentiri	Prison and Police	Criminals get here their control collars
	Anivillus*	Greatest Factory	Factory for largest infernal war machines
	Necromunda*	Greatest Hive	Slaves live and die here, shoving coal in furnace
	Skyweb*	Calculation center	Titivilus and Lilis use it to predict future
	Various	Bazars and markets	Weapons, armours, machines
Minaurus	The Sinking City	Main City	Home of Mammon's Palace and Coin Mint
	Mammon's Palace	Treasury	Deep in under City, covered by swamp
	House of Gold*	Coin Mint	Where the infernal coins are produced
	Soul Market*	Greatest Market	Where everything can be bought, even souls
	Blight City*	Home of Wererats	Connected to many other planes by tunnels
	Veku Tree*	Giant rotten tree	Black resin oozes out and spreads illnesses
	Various	Giant Excavators	Surface Mining, some are rusty and overgrown
Phelegtos	Abriymoch	Main City	Home of Fierna and Belial
	Hall of the Righteous*	Infernal Court	Supreme Court of all hell
	Pit of Flame	Place of torture	Where petitioners and devils are tortured
	Jittering Hiter	Home of Chain Devils	Was once in Minauros, now in Phlegetos
	Blackheart*	Combat Arena	Some are punished to fight to the death
	Shriver	Soul extraction	Purified souls are processed to Stygia/Minauros
	Various	Small Settlements	Hunt down and capture escapees
Stygia	Tantlin	Main City	Build around Tomb of Levistus
	Tomb of Levistus	Home of Levistus	Here Levistus is imprisoned forever
	Great Memory*	Archives	Underwater archives of hell run by Amnizu
	Dasperan*	Imprisonment	Powerful Demons are imprisoned forever
	Gloreia*	Remembrance	Devils can sponsor sculptures to show worth
	Exibitar*	Art Market	Outsiders visit through Styx and trade
	Various	Small settlements	Small towns of people with no memory
Malbolge	Ossiea	Main City	Fortress of Glasya
	Hair Forest	Labyrinth	Surrounds Ossiea
	Tower of Pain	Punishment	Place of pain and joy
	The Garden of Delights*	Pleasure	Be trapped forever
	Palace of Splendour*	Treasury	Take the wrong coin and be transformed
	Circque Desolat*	Entertainment	Circus and freak show
	Various	Small settlements	Addicts indulge their desires
Maladomini	Malagard	Main City	Home of Palace of Filth
	Palace of Filth	Palace of Baalzebul	Covered in excrements, full of treasures
	House of Madness*	Bureaucracy	Try to get permit A38, I dare you
	Carnival Eternal	Ancient ruin	Run-down and grotesque amusement park
	Offalion	Diplomacy	School for hell politics
	Grenpoli	Treachery	School for bargaining with mortals
	Toxic Wastes*	Landfill	Leaking barrels in poisonous swamp
	Various	Ruins	Relicts of ancient great cities
Cania	Mephistar	Main City	Home of Court of Mephistopheles
	Court of Mephistopheles	Palace of Meph.	Built of ice
	School of Hellfire	Research facility	Everything is kept secret, students get killed
	Frost Gardens	Meeting Ground	Mesmerizing and beautiful ice sculptures
	Nebulat	Home of Ice Devils	They try to invent the "plume" to rival hellfire
	The Pit	Connection to Nessus	Guarded by 9999 Ice devils
	Various	Mining Colonies	Looking for frozen Lemures
Nessus	Malsheem	Main City	Largest City in outer planes
	Fortress Nessus	Home of Asmodeus	Government of all hells
	Forgotten Lake	Styx in Nessus	Its existence is surrounded by myth
	Tabjari	Citadel of copper	Contains one of three copies of Pact Primeval
	Serpent's Coil	Deepest rift	Myths say that here sleeps the true Asmodeus
	Bensozia's Rest*	Mausoleum	Here lie the remains of Asmodeus' wife
	Various	Military camps	Millions of devils held in reserve for end times

​
Now that we have important locations, let's look at the inhabitants. I imagine hell as the opposite of paradise. In Christian mythology, hell is the place furthest away from gods love. It is an awful place because the sins of the devils turn good things bad. Or in other words: the road to hell is paved with good intentions. So I tried to use this idea as much as possible. I imagine that in a parallel world all of the Archdevils could be Archangels. That they could be paragons. But their flaws corrupted them and created hell, where they punish themselves (and others). I also tried to tie their desires and their failings to themes that are related to the layer.
One major difficulty was Fierna and Glasya. They were too similar. Each with overbearing fathers, no real power, promiscuous, had something to do with law and punishment, etc. I tried make them more distinct. Fierna, still a sexy she-devil, is in complete charge of her layer, including her father. She tries to bend the law because everyone is a sinner in her eyes. She is punishment incarnate and demands nothing but total obedience. She will use every tool to break you, including seduction and emotional control. Then she will rebuilt you and you will become her willing slave and maybe one of her favorite pets. Glasya is more about excess and indulgence. She is a rebel by heart and hates her controlling father. She would do anything to piss him off. She wants you to free your mind, to explore your senses in every way. She will never condemn you except when you hold back. She sees it as her duty to fulfill your wishes. And every time she does so, your desires will become more and more extreme.
So, here is a list with the most important devils and citizens of hell. And yes, before you ask, I ate one thesaurus after the other.
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Layer	Name	Race	Position	Short summary
Avernus	Zariel	Archdevil	Master of Avernus	Fallen Angel, hates demons
	Haruman	Narzugon	General of Zariel	Followed Zariel voluntarily
	Olanthius	Death Knight	General of Zariel	Suicide but was resurrected
	Bel	Archdevil	Second to Zariel	Knows what to do but afraid to act
	Tiamat	Godess	God of Dragons	Dragons rather fight each other
	Arkhan the Cruel	Dragonborn	Priest of Tiamat	Wants to free Tiamat from Avernus
Dis	Dispater	Archdevil	Master of Dis	Paranoid Iron Duke
	Titilivus	Archdevil	Second to Dispater	Feeds Dispaters paranoia
	Lilis	Archdevil	Consort of Dispater	Spymaster with large network
	Helob	Construct	Fabrication Manager	Comes from Mechanus
Minaurus	Mammon	Archdevil	Master of Minauros	Wants money and Glasya
	Focalor	Archdevil	Second to Mammon	Wants Mammon but gets none
	Glwa	Erinyes	Consort of Mammon	Wants to replace Glasya but fails
	Bael	Archdevil	General of Mammon	Brutally sacrifices his soldiers
	Melchon	Cambion	Head of Soul Market	Cheats everyone
Phelegtos	Fierna	Archdevil	Master of Phlegetos	Subjugates your body and soul
	Cenobar	Chain Devil	Grand Tormentor	Best Torturer of all of Baator
	Zapan	Pit Fiend	Stewart of Fierna	Gives Fierna all the attention
	Galgub	Amnizu	Master of Duels	Lords over Gladiator Pit
	Belial	Archdevil	Infernal Judge	Lusts for Fierna and she uses it
	Balan	Narzugon	Attorney General	There is no innocence. Ever.
	Gaziel	Amnizu	Devils Advocate	Being guilty is a virtue
Stygia	Levistus	Archdevil	Master of Stygia	Imprisoned and has given up
	Erridon Alaka	Ice Devil	Second to Levistus	Mind-linked to Levistus
	Zanth	Amnizu	Master of Memory	Oversees the Archives
	Geryon	Archdevil	Renegade	If I cannot have it, I destroy it
	Harchura	Ice Devil	Artist	Makes your statue and kills you
	Agares	Amnizu	Second to Geryon	Sides with anyone to be master
Malbolge	Glasya	Archdevil	Master of Malbolge	Lady of excess and pleasures
	Tartach	Archdevil	Second to Glasya	Likes how Glasya rules
	Gerlor	Tiefling	Consort to Glasya	Supplier of drugs; long time associate
	Kalha	Cambion	Master of Ceremony	Best parties in all hell
	Malagarde	Night Hag	Is now Malbolge	Wanted everything then ate it
	Moloch	Imp	Exiled but came back	Listened to Malagarde, twice
Maladomini	Baalzebul	Archdevil	Master of Maladomini	Wants so much but does nothing
	Lilith	Archdevil	Consort of Baalzebul	Good with numbers
	Baftis	Erinyes	Head of Grenpoli	Wants Baalzebul for herself
	Neabaz	Archdevil	Spreader of mandates	Wants to make Layer great again
Cania	Mephistopheles	Archdevil	Master of Cania	Thinks he knows everything
	Baalphegor	Archdevil	Consort of Mephisto.	Thinks she knows something
	Quagrem	Pit Fiend	Head of University	Knows Hellfire and kills students
	Hutijin	Pit Fiend	Protector of Cania	Thinks Mephistopheles is a god
	Bele	Narzugon	Justicar of Cania	Only Law is true, all else flawed
	Adonides	Ice Devil	Steward of Cania	Studies the mortal world
Nessus	Asmodeus	Archdevil	Master of all devils	Fell and wanted to create Utopia
	Bensozia	Archdevil	Consort of Asmodeus	Wanted to help and got killed
	Baalberith	Pit Fiend	Major domo of Palace	Wants to please master too much
	Adramalech	Archdevil	Chancellor of Hell	Cannot let things be

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Layer	Archdevil	Good at	Fails at	Because of	Results in
Avernus	Zariel	Conquest	Order	Wrath	Chaos
	Haruman	Victory	Control	Indignation	Strife
	Olanthius	Subjugation	Discipline	Disloyalty	Insubordination
	Bel	Strategy	Peace	Cowardice	War
	Tiamat	Cunning	Unity	Distrust	Discord
	Arkhan the Cruel	Plotting	Alliance	Rage	Division
Dis	Dispater	Fabrication	Ingenuity	Paranoia	Unimaginativeness
	Titilivus	Calculation	Optimism	Pedantic	Pessimism
	Lilis	Information	Progress	Secretiveness	Stagnation
	Helob	Construction	Invention	Inflexibility	Imitation
Minaurus	Mammon	Trade	Love	Greed	Emptiness
	Focalor	Negotiation	Friendship	Moroseness	Loneliness
	Glwa	Exploitation	Harmony	Appeasement	Imbalance
	Bael	Capitalizing	Brotherhood	Callousness	Malevolence
	Melchon	Exchange	Trust	Cheating	Distrust
Phelegtos	Fierna	Manipulation	Righteousness	Intolerance	Depravity
	Cenobar	Torture	Innocence	Sadism	Immorality
	Zapan	Punishment	Honesty	Bigotry	Falseness
	Galub	Censure	Purity	Cruelty	Impurity
	Belial	Judgement	Justice	Lust	Injustice
	Balan	Accusation	Neutrality	Fervour	Prejudice
	Gaziel	Accusation	Fairness	Solicitude	Unfairness
Stygia	Levistus	Remembrance	Freedom	Despair	Imprisonment
	Erridon Alaka	Memory	Emancipation	Fickleness	Enslavement
	Zanth	Honor	Independency	Inflexibility	Dependency
	Geryon	Fame	Forgiveness	Envy	Vengeance
	Harchura	Reputation	Mercy	Loathing	Retribution
	Agares	Glory	Hope	Arrogance	Hopelessness
Malbolge	Glasya	Diplomacy	Satisfaction	Rebelliousness	Excess
	Tartach	Tact	Happiness	Adoration	Debauchery
	Gerlor	Suavity	Decency	Recklessness	Euphoria
	Kalha	Entertainment	Humility	Abusiveness	Exuberance
	Malagarde	Trickery	Ambition	Gluttony	Burnout
	Moloch	Survival	Protection	Disobedience	Exile
Maladomini	Baalzebul	Administration	Creation	Sloth	Decay
	Lilith	Accounting	Beauty	Apathy	Filth
	Mysdemn	Organisation	Rebirth	Frustration	Inefficiency
	Baftis	Logistics	Artistry	Correctness	Crudeness
	Neabaz	Proclamation	Renewal	Resentment	Destruction
Cania	Mephistopheles	Knowledge	Enlightenment	Hubris	Superstition
	Baalphegor	Intelligence	Truth	Frustration	Delusion
	Quagrem	Science	Education	Selfishness	Ignorance
	Hutijin	Lore	Faith	Infatuation	Idolatry
	Bele	Expertise	Believe	Stubbornness	Disbelieve
	Adonides	Research	Guidance	Unimaginative	Disorientation
Nessus	Asmodeus	Supremacy	Paradise	Faithlessness	Hell
	Bensozia	Sovereignty	Utopia	Doubt	Nightmare
	Baalberith	Ascendency	Perfection	Anxiousness	Imperfection
	Adramalech	Domination	Excellence	Spitefulness	Inferiority

​
Ok, now that this is done, let's go into detail:

Avernus

Avernus is a black waste where rocks, stones and meteors fall like rain from the sky. Huge Craters dominate the landscape. The Styx mixes itself with the blood of the victims and runs like veins through the layer. Zariel rules here and her soldiers are well trained and disciplined. As such, they are highly sought after, be it the lords and gods of other planes or the other lords of the nine. Which is good as she needs all the money she can get to keep the machines of war running. She promises victory, conquest, and martial prowess to her followers. Still, the irony is not lost: Avernus is the only layer not united and fully controlled by their lord. Independent warbands roam the layer in infernal machines and try to carve dukedoms out for themselves. The reason she cannot succeed is her wrath which consumes and blinds her. All she wants is to strike down demons and has no mind for logistics and political intricacies. An former angel herself, she doesn't understand that devils don't want to fight in Baator if they can avoid it. Why risk your immortality in some meat grinder when you can use yugoloths or hags? Of course, devils do what they are ordered. But they stick to the letter not the intention. Hold the position at any cost is a very malleable phrase.
This cowardice stems from Bel, the former duke of Avernus. Sitting in his forge, he thinks of all the things that need to be done, but he is too afraid to act. Even when he was lord of the 1st, he was never really in charge, only tolerated by the Dark Eight, Asmodeus' warmasters. Now he waits for a sign of Asmodeus or anyone else that his time might have come again and he would finally bring peace to Avernus. But to no avail. There is only war.

Dis

Once you follow the large tracks left by the infernal war machines to a cave and step through the portal that connects Avernus to Dis, you see a gigantic city located in the middle of a acid lake, surrounded by impossible high walls. This is the city of Dis. As you step closer, you find yourself suddenly in the middle of its streets. Although some of them are broad enough to fit the war machines, they are lined with impossibly high buildings. And every second they seem to close on you. You feel a claustrophibic dread between these gigantic structures that seem to be designed by brutal architects with a weird sense of beauty but none for scale. You try to look up but you get dizzy as you see that the tops are lost in the smog clouds that hang in the air. It smells of burned coal and demolition waste. The dust makes it nearly impossible to breath. From time to time acidic rain clears the sky and burns the flesh of everyone that doesn't take cover. Then you glimpse the eternally burning exhausts of innumerable furnaces and factories, where not only the weapons for the blood war are forged but also the gigantic infernal war machines are created. These are technological marvels that rival those of Mechanus and are overseen by one of its children, a construct named Helob.
In this strangely calculated realm, everything bows to the iron rule of Dispater. He sends legions of his constructs that resemble metal skeletons into the streets. Accompanied by flying sensors and commanded by loyal bone-devils, they search for any sign of disobedience. Paranoid, he doesn't trust anyone but his automatons and his most loyal devils. For Dispater, Flesh is weak. Steel is strong. While he upgrades his underlings with artificial limbs, those that have broken his laws are implanted pain chips and thrown in the bellies of the factories, where they shovel coal to fire the hungry furnaces. Dispater dreams of the perfect city, of innovation, progress and scientific discoveries. So he takes the greatest engineers and the best inventors that the mortal planes have to offer and uses them for his purposes. But the paranoia runs deep in his veins. They could think of a way to trick him. So they must be closely watched. They must be controlled. Tightly. Failure is not accepted. A tragedy, for free thinking and the ability to make mistakes is the basis for every research and innovation, the things he craves so much. He wants others to marvel at his achievements. But instead, they laugh at him. Or at least, that is what he thinks. For Dispater feels every friendly jab as a deep burn. So he retires in solitude and barricades himself behind iron gates and metal walls.
Here, Titivlus feeds his paranoia. This manipulative fiend creates conflicts that wouldn't even exist to show that he is the only one able to solve them. Lilis, Dispaters consort and head of the greatest spy-network in hell, knows of these machinations. She tries to warn Dispater regularly, but has lost a lot of good-will recently when she couldn't predict the Hag Countess' demise and Glasya's promotion.

Minaurus

Contrasting the artificiality of Dis is the nature of Minaurus. The layer is covered in giant swamps and bogs surrounded by impassable thicket and jungles. Undead or sick animals roam under rotten trees and attack intruders that have not already been consumed by flesh eating plants. Here, Mammon reigns supreme, the archdevil of wealth and greed. Deep at his core, he yearns for love and affection. Once, he had hoped that Glasya might fill his internal void. Glwa, Mammons newest cosort, who looks exactly like Glasya, tries her best to comfort him but she is too eager. She always wants to please him, which just annoys Mammon to no end. Also Focalor, his second in command, is unusually loyal to his master and seeks nothing but his companionship. But Mammon has long been blinded by the radiance of gold. Mammon's sole interest left is the search for material wealth. He seeks to possess all the coins, jewels, art, and magic items in existence. He even exchanges souls for riches. Then, deep within his palace in his private treasury, he buries them so that no other might ever enjoy their beauty. And his layer is the same. Below, under all the fiendish and deadly nature, lie resources of unknown wealth: coal, oil, metals, gemstones of every kind and size can be found. But Minaurus doesn't let you get them. Plants regrow at an alarming rate and cover up your progress. Razor-sharp hail will tear your flesh from your bones or destroy your digging machines. Many have tried to access the wealth below but only one constantly manages to succeed: Dispaters engines, for the Iron City hungers! Giant Machines with pumps and flamethrowers drink the swamps and burn the plants while colossal drills tear massive wounds in the layers crust. But do not worry, Mammon gets his fair share. But one must be careful. If something breaks and the engines stop, nature is taking its revenge. So is the layer littered with carcasses of these colossal excavators, half swallowed by the moors.
But Minaurus is not only a place of nature. In the middle of the largest swamp, fixed by massive chains to surrounding trees is the city of Minaurus. There, the coin mint is located and the largest Bazaar of all the lower planes. At the Soul market, lead by Melchon, everything can be bought for gold: slaves but especially souls. As long as you pay Mammon first. Rumors are that there exists a group of wererats that live deep within Minaurus under the protection of Mammon. These vermin of the planes burrow tunnels from their city of blight through the astral sea and ambush all the planes that they may reach. Their goal is to get all the valuables they can get and trade it for souls. Why they need the souls is not quite clear. But maybe this is just a myth.

Phlegetos

This is the layer of eternal damnation, of fire and brimstone, of pain and punishment. Here, the souls of those petitioners are brought that do not follow the lawful evil ideals. They are tortured till only obedience and hate remain. Only then are they thrown into the Styx to forget every memory they ever possessed. Later they leave the river on their assigned plane, reborn as lemures. While the torture is not really necessary, it increases the quality of the product and the patrons, with whom these doomed individuals signed their contracts, persist on this service. Driven by zealotry, Cenobar and his Chain Devils from the Jingling Hiter enjoy their terrible duty. They relish the cries of the tormented and think of new ways to hurt their victims. But punishment is not reserved for mortals. Also devils that broke the law need correction. The severity of their sentence is decided by Belial, the infernal judge, who knows the laws of devils and the planes better than any being except Asmodeus. Advised by Balan and Gaziel, he decides about demotions, exile, torture, death, or the worst of all punishments: the deletion of their achievements from the records of Stygia. Because devils might get killed, but if they are also forgotten, then they are truly dead.
Like all other Archdevils, also Belial falls victim to his sin, his lust. It is so easy to abuse your position to sentence some a little less than others for a certain price. Especially those of beauty. And the most beautiful is his own daughter, Fierna. Oh, and she knows. Grace made flesh, she uses her advantage every time they meet. She loves how Belial falls victim to her games and how easy she can manipulate the old devil to get every one of her wishes. But her wishes are humble. She only wants utter devotion from everyone. For her, everyone is a sinner and needs to be punished. There is no innocence, only degrees of guilt. But don't worry, she knows how to redeem yourself. Like the puppies that surround her throne. Kept at a leash, they battle each other to be the first to fulfill the wishes she never even uttered. Once they might have been devils or mortals. It doesn't matter. They belong to her now. Like you will. Once she has broken you. First comes the pain. You try to oppose it. There is still hope, isn't there? A friendly voice in the night? A key, just out of reach? And then there is the opportunity. You grab the key, open the door. And you find yourself in the next torture chamber where chain devils already wait for you. And you realize that the friendly voice was one of the jailers all along.

Stygia

The river Styx erases the memories of all that drink from him. And nowhere in the nine hells is its magic as strong as in the great ocean of Stygia. It is hard to concentrate and to remember why you came here. Quiet and silent, the layer is filled with a special kind of melancholy. A feeling of hopelessness with no way out. How easy it would be to end it all, to fall into the dark depths and forget that you ever were. Drown your sorrows. Escape it all. But there is no escape for Levistus, the eternally imprisoned. He stands motionless deep in his block of ice with no change of salvation. Once he envied all others for their freedom. But this is gone. There is nothing to hope for. There is just despair. Sometimes he hears minions of Geryon trying to break through the ice and failing. The envy that once tortured Levistus is now Geryon's companion. It sits so deep that he is jealous of one that has lost everything but his life. And Geryon is set on taking even that. He would rather destroy Stygia then bow to Levistus. If only he knew how much Levistus wants him to succeed. How the frozen lord wished that Geryon could end him. He seeks nothing more then to finally feel the sweet embrace of death. But this will never be, so decreed it Asmodeus. All that is left to the lord of Stygia is the past. Once he was a great leader, then came the betrayal and the murder of Asmodeus' wife. With his eidic memory he lives through all of his choices. The only respite are his games. Tasked with granting mortals a way of escape their certain doom, he sometimes takes grim pleasure in trapping them first. He lures adventurers with the promise of treasures to his icy jail where they will be frozen. Then they can choose: sign his contract or stay forever. But these are not the only prisoners of the great iceberg of Tantlin. Deep below there is Dasperan, where the most dangerous foes of Baator are held. Mighty demons that must not be killed, else they are reborn in the Abyss. Kept by chains forged in the fires of Phlegetos and bathed by the magic waters of the Styx, their body and mind shall be trapped for eternity.
It is said that at the bottom of the Styx you can find all the memories that it took away. In case of Stygia this might be true. Amnizu, the Styx devils, are immune to its touch. With the help of Hydroloths, they built giant floating structures deep within the ocean. There, large archives of all the signed contracts and of all the deeds and misdeeds of the devils, living and dead, are collected. Also, all available knowledge of their enemies or the mortals planes is stored here. This is the great Memory of Baator. To gain entry is nearly impossible. To gain access to the files, an application form has to be sent to Maladomini and signed. Next, Amnizu will copy the documents and blacken all confidential information before transporting it to the surface. Only then is it possible to view the information. But information is power and a reason why devils from other layers must visit this place every once in a while. And when they visit, they have no choice but to see the great monuments placed on the Gloreia. Located at the entry of Tantlin and overseen by Harchura, devils might be allowed to sponsor a statue sculptured after their own liking to place it there. To qualify for this honor, they must have proven themselves by accomplishing noteworthy deeds. Some of the memorials are made of cheap ice that will soon melt, some are made of more resistant materials. Wood, clay, gold, marble or steel are often used but the richest devils may use diamond, which will last forever. Created by the best artists from different planes, these sculptures are monuments to the achievement of their sponsors. For devils might fear death, but the statues will persist. No one may destroy or desecrate them, except Belial decrees it.

Malbolge

When you first set foot on this layer, you will be confused. Expecting a layer filled with dread, you instead found something that reminds you of the fields of Elysium. Rivers made of milk and honey flow between lush green fields where baked chickens run. Voluptous beauties embrace you and present fountains of wine and beer. What a welcome distraction. Especially now that you realize how tired and hungry you actually are. So, you might as well try one of the presented meals or drinks. Or play a game of cards? Test your luck on a slot machine? Where is the harm. Bliss lances through your body and you experience unknown happiness. You need more. And while you continue, the magic slowly fades and the true face of Malbolge is revealed.
Because once, the Moloch ruled this layer. Back then, it was lifeless desert where three suns burned the flesh while hunger and thirst drove its inhabitants to madness. The only source of food were other creatures and all water brought to Malbolge instantly vaporized in the heat. A pitty, because lemures can only hatch from the styx. No matter how many souls Moloch gathered, the birth-rate of lemures remained too low. So he asked his consort, the hag countess Malagard, for advise. She created bags of unholy flesh that would keep the water safe. Finally, lemures were able to grow in large numbers. But as new devils hatched, the citizens of Malbolge realized the captivating taste of their cocoons. Eventually, Moloch was exiled when Malagard advised him to defy Asmodeus and she became the new ruler of the layer. She had always been ambitous and Moloch's demise was long planned. But to rule the layer was not enough. She wanted more. Already addicted to the taste of the cocoons, she wondered if the lemures might taste the same. So she started to consume. Petitioners, devils, mortals. Her hunger was overwhelming, only amplified by the layers nature. She absorbed more and more while cancerous tumors and abscesses started to grow uncontrollably.
Today, it is not quite clear were the hag begins and the layer starts. Flesh and skin cover the earth that once was rock, teeth and nails grow at random spots and clusters of hair act as foliage. Eyes without eyelids follow your every step while ears growing everywhere listen. But the worst thing on this horrible layer are the devils and petitioners alike. Bloated figures, half fused to the layer, they eat the flesh, suck on teats and nipples, celebrate lustful orgies and drink rancid smelling pools of secretions while frolicking blissfully. For every new sensation is a new high. But the higher you are the more dulled your senses become. Strange artists form the flesh of their victims as if it was clay, always dissapointed as soon as they finish. They claw their own eyes out because the colors they once saw barely register now. Or they rip their tongoues out, now that they have lost all taste. Those that gamble always win but never succeed. This is the layer of addiction.
And in the middle of it lives Glasya, daughter of Asmodeus. She has her chambers in a gigantic skull surrounded by walls of bone. Together with her Steward Tartach and her associates from old, Gerlor and Kalha, she looks down on her subjects lovingly. How beautiful they are, the distorted and writhing bodies who scream in extasy and agony alike. In her realm, everyone is welcome and no one will be judged. Hierarchies only exist to serve the citizens. May they lose themselves in their pleasures until only bliss remains. Know that you will ever be alone again. For all are one. And all are Malbolge.

Maladomini

Once it was the crown jewel of all the layers. A place of ambition and pride. Still, Baalzebul was not content. He wanted more. But perfection is unattainable. The more he pressed, the less motivated his subjects became. They knew that no matter how good their work, they had to redo it all tomorrow. So why try. And they gave in to sloth. What you can do today, you can easily do whenever. Now the layer is a disgusting place full of ruins and filth. The stench of excrement fills the air and stirges fly around in swarms. It is the dumpster of the layers. They pay a high price to unload all their waste into Maladomini. And it would be filled to the brink if not for the layer above. Huge tentacles from Malbolge suck up what they can get to sustain its cancerous life.
Maladomini is home of the Grenpoli, where Baftis and her officiers teach the devils how to deal with mortals, while in Offalion the politics of the nine hells are taught. The capital of the layer is Malagard. It consists of labyrinthian structures that deny the laws of physics. Möbius bands connect towers, doors in the ceiling lead to the floor below while water constantly runs up and rooms exhibit angles that cannot exist. This is the home of the adminstration and bureaucracy of the nine hells, the domain of Lilith and her legion of lazy horned devils. They are in charge of applications and forms, of accounts and numbers. They issue permits and count the souls. But there is no art, no beauty, no creativity or efficiency, and, most of all, no hurry. They stick to regulations and rules, without reason or rhyme, unbending and unrelenting. And Baalzebul? The years have not been kind to him. Transformed into a giant slug as punishment during the reckoning, he rarely leaves his Palace of Filth and revels in his hate. He plans his revenge on the other lords and especially Asmodeus. And how to finally regain his honor! But for that, he would have to move. Or do something. Which, lets face it, is really exhausting. Maybe tomorrow. Or, you know, whatever.

Cania

The air is thin and hard to breath. Freezing cold fills your lungs while you stare in the white-out in front of you. Below you snow, above you white sky, razor-sharp ice crystals blow into your face and no amount of clothing can remove the feeling of numbness that crawls under your skin. Welcome to Cania. Miles deep glaciers on top of giant mountains ranges cover this layer. It is so cold that every source of water freezes. Even the Styx is frozen. So it is impossible for the Lemures to reach the river bank. Instead, the get covered by even more ice. So, Mephistopheles, the Lord of this layer, has to employ harvesting companies. In small towns, located in the middle of nowhere, they search for hidden veins of the river. They try to reach them with heated picks and axes. Some of the bigger companies even employ mechanical machines from Dis. The frozen lemures are then often brought to the capital Mephistar by frost giant and goliath tribes. The work is laborious but very well paid. For the Lord of Cania does not lack in wealth.
His arcane research is well known even beyond the borders of the Nine Hells. He only seeks the souls of the most powerful mortals: sorcerers, magicians, wizards, warlocks. His goal is to uncover all that is hidden, he searches for enlightenment and the truth beyond. Since ancient times, he considers himself the most intelligent of all devils, so who else might unravel the last mysteries of the cosmos? If not him, who else would be the chosen one? He was born to lead! It is pure circumstance that Asmodeus is still in charge. Asmodeus, he is nothing compared to the almighty wielder of Hellfire and the best Baator ever had to offer! Yes, it is hubris that has taken its hold in mighty Mephistopheles. He dreams of grandeur but is unable to see his faults. His pride is his undoing in every single plot against his master. And Asmodeus is quite entertained.

Nessus

If Cania resembles the highest mountain ranges on the mortal realms, Nessus represents the deepest pits. Hot and humid, the place stinks of rust and stale water. Made of limestone, a cragged surface surrounds the pit where, according to legend, Asmodeus fell from the heavens. Today, there is a huge hollowed-out Stalagmite, the mighty Citadel of Malsheem that serves as the seat of Government to the Nine Hells. Run by Pit fiends, a non-devil is a very rare sight. Only with special allowance by the Lord of the Devils himself, are such creatures welcomed on the layers unholy surface. Asmodeus, whos amibition is so far above the others. He is the dark paragon for every devil. But not only them.
When the mortals still dwelt in darkness, he alone took pity. Once an angel called the lightbringer, he explained to them the true nature of the gods. His message was one of self-reliance, of free will and independence. He believed that once the mortals were enlightened, they would go and create the perfect world, free from the shakles of the gods. Free from consequences, the mortals turned on each other and the kingdoms fell, as did the angel. Now calling himself Asmodeus, he blamed the mortals, not his teachings, for the failure. For him, punishment was the only solution and the pact primeaval was signed.
Now, he has become a god himself. The god of Heresy. The god of Unbelief. The god of Atheism. He is a false idol to his worshippers, who do not believe but instead are bound by contracts. And still, he is unable to see the truth, blind to a simple realization: there can be no paradise without faith. People need to believe in something more than themselves. And an angel even moreso. This was the original sin that brought him down to Baator and which can never be forgiven. Like all the other Archdevils and Lords of the layers, Asmodeus is not the jailer, he is just the most powerful prisoner. And it is his sin of faithlessness that will forever bind him here.

This post contains only a fraction of what's in the book. The major plot points and what I think is most interesting. As always I recommend reading the actual material.
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At last. Lets get down to business :
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-Alivia Sureka saw the first spaceships leave Terra. Humanity's attempts to reach beyond its cradle and seize its manifest destiny.
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-Alivia had known Malcador for a long time. An eternity. Even so it surprised her that he ordered the gates open to allow refugees to shelter in the inner precincts of the palace.
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-John Grammaticus was the best at reaching into the mind of others and bending them to his will. Alivia was skilled in that regard as well. However, upon arriving on Terra, she found that her psychic powers all but vanished.
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-Alivia's stolen fairy tale book features the story of the "Nightingale"
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-Atok Abidemi witnessed a vision of the Mountain Deathfire being torn apart in in a great cataclysm. From the destruction two incomprehensibly vast Ur-Drakes rose. One was scaled in deepest green and onyx. Its claws were fire and its eyes were burning red coals. The other Ur-Drake was crimson and it was missing an eye. In its place was a deep crater.
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-The two cosmic Ur-Drakes fought each other. Tore at each other with jaws and claws that could have sundered continents. The green black drake was losing. As it fought, its attention was drawn into the horizon. This made all the difference as its inattention proved to be fatal. The crimson drake dragged the green one down. Smashing it to the earth with enough force to rock the whole of Nocturne. Adidemi despaired to see the green drake laid low but he would not allow it to die. Flanked with his two brothers, they raised their weapons and charged forward to help the green drake. Their beloved father.
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-Magnus had used his memory to recreate some of the things lost during the destruction of Tizca's libraries. His recreations feature the works of Shakespire, Khut-Nah, as well as the last page of the Voynich manuscript.
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-Magnus is barely holding his rage over Colossi not falling. He had seen it fall. His Corvidae saw it fall. Yet the Khan and Valdor held it and pushed back the traitors creating a stalemate.
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-Magnus as he is now is a being of light. A melding of broken flesh and splintered soul. He has yet to fully given himself to the Ruinous Powers. However, the Telaethesic ward holds him back just the same as his Daemonic brothers. Had Colossi fallen, Magnus would have stormed the heart of the palace already to seek out the lost splinter of his soul which he believes is the best part of him.
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-Magnus was no longer a being of pure flesh. The sensation of this change troubled and pained Magnus. As a spasm of pain went through him, he explained to Ahriman that the Emperor created his body using ancient science, forgotten alchemies, and a pact that HE could not fully fathom. After Russ shattered him, Magnus is no longer sure what or who he is anymore.
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-Magnus went on to say that without the missing part him, he is becoming something more and also something less than what he was.
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-Magnus can change his form with the merest thought. He can appear wonderous or mundane. He can appear beautiful or monstrous. But there is one feature of himself he will never change. His missing eye.
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-To find a way inside the palace, Magnus and Ahriman cast their spirits to the Warp. Unlike Ahriman that needed rituals to unlock the chains that fettered his soul to his body, Magnus lifted himself from his body with ease. His form was already turning from material to immaterial.
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-Magnus appeared as a divine being of pure light with Ahriman at his side shining with his own perfect light. The shine of these two souls attracted the daemons swarming around Terra. Magnus would dim his brilliance for no man and certainly no daemon. With a thought he armed himself and flew into the daemon tide.
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-Magnus and Ahriman fought as one against the daemonic swarms. Magnus was not merely slaying the daemons. he was unmaking. The daemons screamed piteously as they dissolved into nothingness. For his part, Ahriman matched the fury of his father gaining cathartic release from the death of the daemons. In the end, Magnus and Ahriman stood victorious. Their battle in the Warp reflected into the material world as mortals on Terra had their waking dreams and nightmares filled with visions of fiery angels destroying hordes of daemons. Depending on which side of the conflict, these visions either uplifted or plunged them into despair.
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-Magnua reveals his master plan to Ahriman. Retrieving his missing soul piece was just the start. Magnus knows that Horus has to throw everything in a brute force attempt at clawing his way toward the Emperor before the other loyalist legions arrive to aid Terra. Such a war would leave the victor crippled and weak. Magnus intends to use the fleet that he sent away before Prospero burned, to crush whoever wins the conflict and then seat himself as the ruler of Terra and of all of mankind. Who else would be better to lead the future of mankind other than Magnus himself!
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-During their flight in the War, Ahriman glimpses a glimmer of light. Magnus identifies as whisper of the Emperor's power flowing from the breach they created in the Wards. The crack they need to get inside.
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-Not even the greatest of the Martian Priesthood possessed the ability to process war data with Perturabo's speed. He was an artist at work. But warmaking wasn't his only form of art. He was a creator. Vulkan had his forge work, Ferrus had his mastery over technology, Perturabo had his genius in architecture. He was a dreamer of great and unimaginable things. Magnus remembered when his brother's chambers were filled with plans for cities and palace of such splendour and grandeur that they rivalled Tizca. That few of these plans became a reality was a great insult to his genius. It troubled Magnus such genius is being used for simple destruction. It was such a waste of potential.
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-Pert was incredibly busy thanks to being pressured hard by Horus and the expected arrival of the loyalist legions. He would have denied all his brothers an audience. Except for Magnus whom he was willing to give a moment of his time.
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-Pert was still fuming at the failure at Saturnine. Magnus noted that somehow Dorn, the most unimaginative of warriors, managed to outfox them all. Truly these are the end times.
-Pert tells Magnus that he is launching a diversionary attack against the Western Hemispheric in order to distract Dorn from the real objective. Pert refuses to tell Magnus that objective. He knows that Magnus has his own agenda on Terra that's different from Horus'. He knows that the Thousand Sons haven't fully committed to the war. Magnus responds by saying that for now all their goals align. He is going have his Thousand Sons aid in the attack on the Western Hemispheric to encourage Dorn to take the bait. Pert allows this.
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-Alivia was escorted to meet Malcador. Within the chamber were three Space Wolf marines that wordlessly shared ideas how best to tear her apart. Alivia noted that of all the loyalist marines she had met, she liked the Space Wolves the least.
-The Space Wolves are Bodvar Bjarki and his pack. They were watch packs assigned to guard the Primarchs. Also in the event that the Primarchs turned traitor, it was their duty to execute them. Alivia looked back at the door and laughed. she said she doesn't know if they noticed the fighting outside, it doesn't look like their packs did a good job.
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-Malcador tells Alivia that the Emperor needs her. He needs her. She is needed to save the Emperor. The flow of the war was against the loyalists. Terra will soon fall unless they remove an asset from Horus' side via a plan that the Custodes would never agree to. If the Custodes knew of this plan, Valdor would execute everyone involved regardless if the Emperor ordered it or not. And how would that asset be flipped from Horus' side? With forgiveness and redemption.
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-In his initial calculations for the defence of the Western Hemispheric, Dorn had been woefully conservative. No Imperial planner would have foreseen such a level of insanity that defied comprehension. The traitors threw themselves with no care for survival at the Imperial lines. Dorn bloody equations of war were rendered null by the madness of the attackers. But even as Dorn adapted to the outlandish nature of this war, there was one variable that neither he nor his commanders could have possibly accounted for. The sorcerers of the Thousand Sons!
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-As Ahriman fought, he can still see glimpses of the Emperor's light leaking from the breach in the ward. The Thousand Sons weren't the only ones to have noticed it. The daemons of the Warp have taken note. Named daemons like Samus and countless unnamed others clawed at reality building up pressure against the breach. It was only a matter of time before the ward shatters allowing them entry to the palace.
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-Magnus manifests in all of his terrible glory on the battlefield. A crimson and golden demigod too raw and beautiful to look upon. Immediately, the palace wall guns fired everything at him but to no avail. Their shells and energy weapons could not pierce the light that surrounded the Primarch. Magnus freezes a Capitol Imperialis in time in mid detonation and then flings it at the Western Hemispheric. The defenders guns had no way of stopping the colossal mass coming toward them. The Capitol Imperialis impacts the wall and time resumes for it. The explosion of its reactor coupled with its ordnance blasted the wall with the force of a dozen nuclear weapons. A section of the wall vanished beneath a mushroom cloud. When it cleared a V shaped breach formed in the palace walls. The daemons shrieked as the breach in the Emperor's ward widened. Amid the ash an super heated smoke, the Thousand Sons advanced forward.
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-Ahriman noted that the Thousand Sons psychic powers were being supressed by the Emperor's ward. He mused on how much they have changed, that now the Emperor's power blunts them like it does with the daemons
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-As Ahriman marched on with his men, he passed the armoured wrecks of both sides. He heard the machine spirits of these vehicles and machines beg him for release or heard them whisper dark promises in exchange for a loan of their power. Ahriman knew better than to trust such damaged things. He left them to burn.
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The Abidemi's Salamnders are the first of the marines to arrive at the Western Hemispheric. They are joined up by Bodvar's pack. Six marines set against hundreds of Thousand Sons. Bodvar through his wyrdsight saw the coming enemies. To Bodvar, the Warp sorcery of the Thousand Sons was a mockery of the power that infused his flesh. The sacred and ancient pact between men and the earth they trod upon. The Thousand Sons powers were perversions of this bond. Within them it manifested as an all consuming light. Bodvar wondered how could they not see that this fire was devouring them from within. Eating away at their humanity until eventually they are nothing but ghosts.
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-Though their courage and skill was great, the loyalist marines could not hold anymore once Magnus himself appeared before them. Bodvar told Abidemi that the song of Fenris is little more than a whisper here. Terra's World Spirit though it was ancient and deep. The power within its stone and the flow of it was the strongest he had ever felt. Bodvar told Abidemi to grip his arm so that they can soar as dragons of fire and ice.
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-As both marines gripped their arms together, Bodvar and Abidemi began to channel the energies of Terra' World Spirit to call forth and summon the World Spirits of Fenris and Nocturne. Manifesting as a dragon and a giant wolf of great elemental power the World Spirits leapt at Magnus. Ripping into and driving him back in defeat. However, the channelling of so much power was killing both marines. Abidemi realised this and told Bodvar to let go. They have bought enough time for the Blood Angels and Imperial Fists to reinforce the breach, he can let go now. But Bodvar wanted Magnus to suffer more. To pay for all the deaths he caused. He wouldn't let go of the power that humbled Magnus. Abidemi had no choice but use his sword to cut off Bodvar's arm ending their connection and with it the summoning.
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-Alivia Sureka was a rank and file solider in the conquests of conquests of Boeotia and Euboea
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-Malcador led Alivia through tunnels in the palace that even the Custodes don't know about. The tunnels walls were fashioned from glossy black tiles that were slick to the touch and oddly free from any cracks or dust. The strange angled dimensions of the tunnels coupled with the tiles placement made Alivia uneasy.
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-Alivia hated many things in Malcador. What she hated the most is his tendency to always speak in riddles. She warned him if he didn't speak plainly, she was going strangle him right now.
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-Of all the long years Alivia had known Malcador and the Emperor, Alivia can count with a single hand how many times they told her a straight answer.
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-Malcador explains to that the war is waged in many fronts by many types of people. Her type is the kind that can suffer the many horrible truths that this long war entails.
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-Alivia asks him is this is why John and she are on Terra? And what about the others? Oll, Prytanis? Are they here as well? Malcador answers her by saying some are here. Some willingly, others less so. All have parts to play.
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-Alivia loses balance causing Malcador to reach out to steady. She flinched back in revulsion. It was instinctual. A primate response to the things that crawled in the dark. She took a heavy breath and told him to never touch her again.
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-Malcador and Alivia reached a pillar of red stone that was obviously alien to Terra. Steps of clear cut stone corkscrewed across its length descending into the darkness below. Malcador told Alivia that these tunnels were abandoned before the first stone of the first tower was laid on the mountains above. Then he asked her to follow him closely. He is going to take her where gods have walked. She replied by saying that she had been to such places. They were filled with the blood and bodies of mortals.
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-Promeus meets up with Bodvar and his salamander allies in a medical tent where they are getting their wounds patched up and their armours purged of radiation. Promeus gets Bodvar and the other marines to tell him what happened. Through his psychic ability to manages to piece their memories into a mental projection of what happened. He saw Magnus facing off against the spiritual avatar of the Space Wolves and Salamanders. But what he uncovered shocked him. Magnus had feigned defeat. He pretended to withdraw. In truth he snuck past them in the mayhem. He is in the palace!
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-Magnus and his Corvidae disguised themselves as Blood Angels and walked among the defenders. The weakening of the Emperor's ward as well as the mental exhaustion of the defenders made this possible. Even though the dimness of their psychic ability helped Magnus in infiltrating their lines, it saddened Magnus to know that the souls here will never reach a fraction of their true potential. This is what he is going to change once he takes the throne. He will build up the psychic genes of mankind properly.
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-For their hunt for Magnus, Bodvar commandeers a Taurox. Promeus said that it's the ugliest thing he had ever seen. The Salamanders apparently shared his opinion since they circled the vehicle with disdainful eyes.
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-A memory surfaced in the mind of Magnus. Magnus and the Emperor had laughed together as they plotted future crusades and imagined campaigns into the void between galaxies. When Magnus pointed out to the Emperor the nigh-impossibility of reaching beyond the Halo Stars, the Emperor responded that there is nothing impossible for he who tries.
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-The Emperor continued to say that once mankind can fly as they do, see as they do, then the greatest prize will be within their grasp. When Magnus asked the Emperor what prize is greater than galactic domination. The Emperor did not answer, he merely turned his back on Magnus to hide his disappointment
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-Within the Great Observatory is an ancient device created by the Emperor to scry distant galaxies. The weapon impacts had shattered the device and its complex workings. Magnus' heart broke to see the damage wrought upon it, for nothing else of its kind existed nor would ever exist again.
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-A runaway phosphex cluster bombs hit the Great Observatory. Magnus conjured a shield to protect the refugees within the building, refusing to let them die. The effort broke his disguise and his true form was revealed to the mortals. The ghostly green Phosphex flame raged against Magnus' shield as if it was a predator denied its prey. Magnus was forced draw on his reverses of his power to keep it at bay but he fell short from drawing of the power of daemonkind, the power of Chaos. It was an awesome inexhaustible source of power and it was his to command. All he needs to do was reach for it. But he would not. For if he used it, then the Emperor's ward would have instantly expelled him out of the palace.
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-Magnus ordered his men to channel their own powers into him. With their combined power that held back the Phosphex flames until it began to devour itself in a desperate bid to sustain itself longer. The madman chemical bonds that gave the flames form broke apart which rendered the Phosphex inert. Magnus finally released the shield and let the harmless chemicals fall down as harmless jelly.
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-When asked why he chose to save the refugees lives, Magnus merely said that he could not allow them to die while had the power to save them.
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-Alivia and Malcador reached the area where the Emperor intended to nurture and educate the Primarchs. Malcador explained that this didn't happen because "She" saw to that. Alivia didn't ask Malcador about the identity of this "she". Alivia knew her already. Erda the twisted barbed wire bitch mother of the Primarchs.
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-Magnus and his men navigated the glossy tunnels and almost reached their destination. He remember Dorn's Saturnine gambit. For all he knew, there might be a host of Silent Sisters and Custodians waiting for him just further head. But he doubted it. Magnus' mind conjured the sight of Abaddon laying in a lake of his own blood after the disastrous Saturnine assault. The once proud captain was a broken man now. His soul adrift in an ocean of despair. Magnus wondered if he is any different to prideful warriors like Abaddon.
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-What greeted Magnus at his destination was host of Custodians and Null Maidens. It was just two figures sitting at table playing regicide . Malcador rose up and welcomed Magnus home.
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-Alivia had met four Primarchs before Magnus. Roboute, Corax, Horus, and one whose name she swore never to speak. She saw beyond their myth. For all their power, they could still be harmed and killed. Magnus on the other hand was something else. He affected her in a way that his brothers did not. He is a sundered being lingering between materium and the Warp.
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-Magnus agrees to continue Malcador's Regicide game against Alivia as he and Malcador discussed things. The first thing they discussed was his motive on Terra. Alivia guessed it was revenge
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-Magnus asked is he not justified in pursuing such a motive? He did nothing wrong yet his world was burned an his sons were butchered. Malcador answered that it was not his intention nor His. Though, Horus' hands as just as stained as his in the matter he does not pass off the responsibility. He did unleash the Wolves and Custodians and he did not foresee how their mission could be co-opted by a single word.
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-Malcador continued by saying that they had given Magnus the tools to shape his reality but they did not explain to him the price of crossing certain lines. Because of this the failure belongs to him and the Emperor, not Magnus. But it doesn't change where they are standing and what happens now. This is Malcador's last attempt to talk to the Magnus that he knew before. The one who was the best of them. Whose vision was unmatched by Malcador and the other Primarchs. It's not too late for Magnus. Not yet.
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-The conversation proceeds to the next motive of Magnus. His missing soul shard. The shard that Magnus believes to be the best part of him. Malcador reveals to Magnus that he is woefully wrong. There is no good shards or evil shards of Magnus. All of the shards are equally Magnus. They clung to different memories but they were all still Magnus himself. Magnus did not believe this. He claimed that he had felt the shards purity. It was ripped from him before Horus poisoned everything. It was uncorrupted by Chaos. Malcador responded by saying that he is sorry but Magnus is wrong and that the shard is no more.
​
-Magnus exploded in rage and rose up. Flipping the table and causing Alivia to be flung into air and land painfully on the ground breaking her ribs. Magnus grabbed Malcador by the throat and started yelling at him. Telling him that without the shard he is no better than Angron or Fulgrim. He would be a monster just like them. If the shard is just him and no different than him in any way then all that he had done....
​
-Alivia completed the sentence "...was already a part of him". There is no self redemption here for Magnus. No absolution. All the evil that he committed was by his own will not because he was missing the good part of himself.
​
-Magnus refused to believe that. He continued to strangle Malcador and demand that he tell him where the shard is. Malcador told him in choked words that the shard is now beyond the reach of his power and that he did all he could to save the last son of Prospero.
​
-At this Magnus truly erupted into an inferno of psychic rage. When his rage receded he discovered that one of his men had killed Alivia as she attempted to flee. Angered by the warrior's disobeying of his orders of not killing them without his say, he detonated every atom in the marine's body reducing him to dust within his armour. Then Magnus was made aware that he was still clutching Malcador now reduced to a charred skeleton. Their deaths were not his intention. After adding these deaths to the mountain of his guilt, Magnus resolved to delve deeper into the heart of Terra and slay his father.
​
-As Magnus made his way to the throne room, an avatar of the Emperor appeared before him in the form of Revelation.
​
Note : Revelation is the name and guise the Emperor used in "The Last Church"!
​
-Alivia was in a dream. The dream that she always came back to. A remembrance of her land of birth. A memory of innocence and peace before the world showed its true face and her true nature. Within the dream, the Emperor visited her in the last guise in which she had last seen him. The Emperor told her that he really wanted to respect her wishes of not wanting to see him again after she left Terra but he couldn't. Molech was supposed to be her last task before she was done with him but this could not be. He needed her now. He reached out to show her the stakes. She rejected him saying that she already knew what was stake. She saw Molech fall. She had heard the whispers of the daemons.
​
-Alivia in anger accuses the Emperor of being a monster, a liar, and a killer who has slaughtered millions in the name of unity and crushed anyone who opposed him. He made monsters from his flesh in the name of a vision that only he could see and then was surprised when they turned against him.
​
-When Alivia tells the Emperor that Magnus killed Malcador, the Emperor expresses genuine emotion and sheds real tears for Malcador. Alivia's hatred and love for the Emperor were so powerful that this sight hurt her heart. Tears started welling in her eyes before she angrily wiped them away. She told the Emperor that both of them have so much blood of their hands and she just wanted it to end. The Emperor asked her to help him end it, and reached out again offering to share his foresight with her.
​
-Alivia took the hand of the Emperor and in the space of a moment he showed her everything. Alivia threw back her head and started screaming like corpse she saw locked in the Golden Throne.
​
-Revelation took Magnus to the Throne Room. Right before the real Emperor as he sat on his Golden Throne. Revelation explained that the Emperor and him are one and the same. He can address his words to him. The damage Magnus caused requires the Emperor's primary focus. The daemonic assaults were unceasing. Had it not been for the presence of the Emperor of the Golden Throne, then Terra would have been transformed into a daemon world.
​
-Revelation tells Magnus that he was told. He was educated. He was warned. Yet Magnus thought he knew better. When Magnus retorted by saying he knew only what the Emperor told him. Revelation replied that the Emperor had told Magnus that even he had lines that he would not cross when it came to the Warp and this should have been enough to set an example for Magnus. The Emperor's unapologetic arrogance stoked the fury of Magnus.
​
-Revelation....reveals to Magnus that the crack in the ward was by design of the Emperor himself to lure Magnus here. It was a gambit as dangerous as the one pulled by Dorn in Saturnine. To confirm this fact, Magnus stabs Revelation with his spear causing the avatar of the Emperor to scream and writhe as Magnus burned him to nothingness. Magnus had killed the puppet. Now for the master.
​
-As Magnus climbed toward the Emperor, Bodvar pack and their Salamander allies appeared fight the Thousand Sons.
​
-Magnus continued his climb and prepared to hurl his spear at the Emperor. Empowered with all his anguish and rage, it had the power to slay him. But rage and regret warred within Magnus for he had loved the Emperor like no other. Regret won out which snuffed out the gathering power within the spear. It was then a figure equal in stature to Magnus came smashing down. A green armoured giant emerged from the crater. His skin was midnight dark and his eyes were the colour of the sunset at battle's end. So the rumours were true after all. VULKAN LIVES!
​
-Magnus sees that Vulkan has no expression of rage. His eyes only showed great sadness. Vulkan and Magnus have a friendly conversation in which Vulkan thanks him for his part in his resurrection. Magnus tells Vulkan that he doesn't know what he wants to do now. He is unsure if he wants to kill the Emperor or not. He is lost now. And then the enthroned Emperor opened his eyes and told Magnus he is not lost.
​
-The Emperor took Magnus to the memory of Tizca. The Emperor tells Mangus that humanity's bright future. At least a version of it can still be realised. All he needs to do is swear fealty and stand by his side again. With their combined power they could crush the traitors. Their war would be a crusade of a vengeance. A great scouring that will see humanity's enemies purged from the galaxy. Magnus unlike his brothers is still the Emperor's son. Chaos had wormed its way into minds of the fallen Primarch too deep to ever be removed. Magnus' mind is still not lost. His soul is still ruled by nobility.
​
-Magnus protested by saying while the other traitor Primarchs had become monsters, Pert is still his brother. Pert is still the Emperor's son. He shuns the power of Chaos. He is not uncorrupted. It was Vulkan's turn to speak and he told Magnus that Pert while uncorrupted had already given his word to Horus. And Pert's word once given is unbreakable. The quest to humble Dorn has consumed him utterly locking him to the path of treachery.
​
-Magnus realised this was why he felt empty and broken. Not because he was missing a shard but because he yearned to serve something greater than himself. To be part of something. What he also realised that the Emperor's offer of forgiveness has a price and he asked what it was.
​
-The Emperor revealed the price of his forgiveness. Magnus would return to his side but his sons cannot. They must be destroyed. They dangerously corrupted by Chaos. They have been beyond saving the moment the Flesh Change manifested. Magnus' efforts to save them and protect them are futile. In a few years, the flesh change would reduce even the greatest of them into horribly mutated monsters. In their stead, the Emperor would give Magnus a legion of warriors like which the galaxy has never seen. Greater than the old legions and incorruptible.
​
Note : Does the Emperor mean the Grey Knights here (most likely) or the Primaris?
​
-Magnus refused. How could he stand by the side of the Emperor knowing that he condemned his sons? This new legion, when he sees them all he will see is the faces of his true sons. What kind of a father will that make him? No. The Thousand Sons fate is not sealed. He will save them.
​
-Vulkan stepped forth and begged Magnus to agree to the price. To come back to their side. Magnus asked him would he have agreed to such a price. Would he have sacrificed his sons? Vulkan told him that he wouldn't. Magnus then tells him what made him believe that he would have? Then in an instant Magnus threw his spear at the Emperor. All the Fury of Magnus was channelled into this strike. But the greatest fury wasn't meant for the Emperor but the fact that he almost accepted the price.
​
-Vulkan blocked the spear before it hit the Emperor and engaged Magnus in a titanic struggle. Magnus outclassed Vulkan. Seeing his every move before they happened. Magnus delivered horrible wounds to Vulkan and surely would have slain him had it not for the three Salamanders that came to Vulkan's rescue. Thanks to their aid and sacrifice, Vulkan turned the tide on Magnus.
​
-Father and sons laid into Magnus. Vulkan smashing him to submission with his hammer while the two surviving Salamanders hacked at the one eyed Primarch. One them managing to cleave off his arm. Finally Magnus was beaten. Vulkan angrily asked Magnus how could he sacrifice the Imperium for a thousand sons. Magnus replied even one would have been too many.
​
-Before the finale blow was struck, Magnus let go of the last of his corporality and fully embraced Chaos. His wounds and battle damage were healed and repaired. He was once the Emperor's son but now he stood as a Neverborn. A daemon of Chaos. Before the Emperor's Ward banished him from the palace, Magnus uttered a single sentence "All is dust".
​
-Alivia woke up from death. She had regenerated from the bolter round that killed her. She noted that the boltgun was a weapon designed by a psychopath for the damage it can do to the human body. She walked toward the corpse of Malcador and knelt beside himself.
​
-The visions the Emperor's foresight given her flooded back into her mind. They were of two horrible futures. One was the 40K future. An age of endless war where tides of xenos species unleashed untold destruction. A vast and tyrannical empire as bloody and cruel as it was possible to imagine.
​
-The other future, the alterative to the first, was a universe of horror, torture, bloodshed, and plague. Humanity would suffer unending torment from which it cannot escape. For the masters of this future were immortal and eternal. Created and sustained by the suffering of the people of this future.
​
-The first future was a nightmarish bleak. A grim and dark reality where human lives were meaningless but they were lives. Humans actually lived there. They loved, raised their children, and did their best to serve a higher purpose. Most importantly they still had hope and this allowed them to endure and persist in that nightmare. In that future embers of light existed. Embers of light that would one day spark the fires of a great final war that will make this current war seem like a small skirmish. Alivia did not know the outcome of that war but the fact that humanity would fight back was enough for her.
​
-Alivia Sureka gave up her immortality and her lifeforce to Malcador. Allowing him to rise from death. The grief stricken Malcador held Alivia as the sight of her daughters playing appeared in her mind. Tears filled her eyed as they beckoned her to follow them. Then Alivia closed her eyes for the last time.
​
-In the ending of the book, Magnus is met by Argonis the Unscarred of the Sons of Horus. He brings word from the Warmaster about the opening of a new front. Horus asks if Magnus will be with him. Magnus stands up in his awe inspiring aspect of war and tells the Son of Horus that he and his legion are with Horus to the very end. The Thousand Sons will commit fully to this war!

The Meld (72): Of Despair and Hope.
Soon enough the tunnel departed from its previous straightness. First veering this way then that, oft curving whilst rising up or sinking down. Occasionally, it altered as if just to surprise embracing a few sharper angles. Yet it remained stubbornly a singular passage, without any branching deviation. Meanwhile, Bhat, continued onward as if his guidance had some real purpose beyond another ruse to live a while longer beyond any just inevitable punishment. Soon this even proved true, since he slowed his pace for a searching scrutiny of care. Halting for a time before approaching one specific section of wall to the left. It looked to all the others, little different to all else. Still, he rested his hand upon a minor natural enough looking protrusion of the hewn rock with a distinctive and assured purpose.
Efor, feeling suspicious, made a point of brandishing his multi-tool, whilst pointing it very squarely at the Tusk.
Bhathag, if he noticed, made little of the unspoken threat, getting used to the groups open ire and general distrust.
‘Once pressed all must hurry.’ The Tusk loudly broadcast. ‘It is a time lock of sorts, engineered to secure lengthy hidden pit doors, but only for a spell. The mechanism automatically resetting by devious Fox workings.'
Without giving or waiting further instruction, Bhathag pushed the spot. A part sliding smoothly inward into a previously hidden octagonal recess until Efor, directly behind him, heard a faint but audible click. The Tusk then bolted forward at a fast jog as if from the starter blocks of a foot race, followed closely by a slightly nervous Efor and all the rest. The Gek half expecting some cunning ploy to the detriment of those trailing behind. To which the Tusk might then defend that they had not moved half fast enough or some such poor excuse. Yet in these circumstances none of them could do much other than crowd along closely behind their mistrusted leader.
The members of the Pentacle present all expecting a betrayal by the Tusk, which in the exceptionally confounding circumstances almost seemed a reasonable rather than extreme option. For Bhathag might as well be leading a procession to his own execution and had to know that fact only too well.
After a short time, an already breathless Bhathag, with a stench of body odour, even stronger than usual, slowed to sway wheezing and spluttering from his exertion. Tor made a scan behind them but not even the button, lately depressed, annoyingly showed a return. Such low tech devices, it seemed, confounded the advanced science - as he had feared. To his scanner the close fitting rock all being rock and not much more. It rankled that for all he knew the item depressed, rather than doing the mentioned, could in fact be some trigger for a warning signal elsewhere, He imagined a simple door bell now clanging out their approach rather than securing safety of transit upon questionable flooring.
Briefly Tor considered using his Multi-tool to crudely excavate part of the passage now behind them, searching for confirmation of the Tusk’s story but then a differing concern surfaced to his mind.
“Show us how to pass this obstacle on our way back.” Tor demanded.
‘One… moment.’ The Tusk rasped, looking flushed of face and still wobbly as if on the verge of a fainting fit. Bent over he rested his meaty hands on his own thighs for a time. After a period, that seemed far longer, his breathing steadied and a more natural colouring returned to his flabby moist features. Finally, almost comically mirroring some habits of Efor, he spat at the floor and straightened.
“Your old lifestyle a hastening suicide of ill health. I marvel you have lived so long.”
Bhathag made no reply to that accusation of self harm, instead he more carefully retraced his way back down the passageway, going for a goodly distance then motioned to another specific blemish on the wall. Such protrusions were disguised by being far from alone here. The delved workings overall straight and precise enough yet now worked with a variance of irregular hewed finish. He pressed it inward to reveal another surprisingly perfect octagonal void.
“Reveal all, precisely how did you locate it?” Tor asked. To him, as it reset, (except under a singly close examination whilst knowing it there), it became one with all else and virtually indistinguishable save for hairline cracks.
Then it was that Bhathag revealed a sort of code within the lay of seemingly unrelated marks including what seemed little more,initially, than some scuffs on the floor. Exceptionally cunningly wrought it was, so that only once knowing what to look for did any pattern become increasingly clear, including a directional bearing towards the specific switch.
‘I am certain,’ Nahrl approaching stated, ‘this is finely wrought Warren work. Each Warren has its own signs along with some shared in more general use. These particular marks are new to me, but work via principles I am well familiar with.’
“Now you know them, might you spot and read others?”
‘Perhaps, though I would not guarantee it. Although certainly, now alerted, I should notice others using this - particular - configuration. Where lies the initial warning sign Tusk?’
Bhathag pointed out one patch of wall, again at first glance, just another seeming irregular random stone working disfigurement, this one a little way back towards the rest of the party.
‘This should at least be repeated if customs hold true,’ Nahrl ventured. ‘Am I right?’
Bhathag nodded.
‘Though as you can see Tor, when unknowing of the general location, it might yet be easily missed even by an attentive Fox. Thus we Warren Foxes conceal our protections from trespass to the highest level.’
“I certainly would have passed it by oblivious.” Tor easily admitted.
Gryll arriving took a moment to study and no doubt to archive the markings.
‘It pains me to see the deep craft of my people, (mostly it is said newer skills perfected since The Fall), put to the aid of such base purposes as this gross Slaver would contrive. I wonder what ills have passed up and down this passage, since its dire founding. Also how many poor souls might have fallen foul of such traps seeking a simple escape from his clutches. Such systems originally devised to defend our Warren People from exactly such as the activities of this one, and his marauding kinsfolk.’
“How many other traps rest between us and our destination?” Tor demanded sharply.
‘Only one. These devices take great effort and time to create, and time and effort is wealth squandered.’
“Hardly your time and effort, it being the labour of your slaves.”
‘They too are part of our economy. A slave's time, the wealth of their owner. A good slave, a fine investment. A bad slave, potentially a drain.’
‘Are you saying those that built this place are still alive?’ Nahrl challenged in disbelief.
‘It is not my habit to cast away valuable tools and riches. I can even be generous to those that serve me well. You have seen only one side of my operations - and with less than an impartial gaze - I am sure.’
Nahrl, even to Tor’s alien senses, seemed enraged by that short remark. Probably any attempt to justify or make little of Bhathags' crimes only further maddening the Fox.
‘I saw little to misjudge in your table, kitchen and cold store, or in the repugnant doings at your blasphemously unholy Shrine.’
‘To us - it is holy - and done to retain the blessings of the Dreamer.’
“Might as well worship a Pantheon of Digital Demons as the Dark Dreamer from the ill quality of its messages and requirements. I too saw nothing even remotely sacred about the practices left in agony at that abysmal shrine.”
‘The Shrine of the Dreamer, though readily accounted mine being under my roof, was nonetheless hardly my business. Ask anyone, it was tended only by the Priests here, not I. I merely facilitated their requirements as fully expected - indeed as ordered.'
'Any significant Tusk enterprise soon attracts the attention of, and demands blessing by, members of one Sect of the Cult of the Dreamer or another. There is little hope of escaping such entanglements within the Horde, unless you are a nobody. These practices are long established and enforced, not voluntary.’
‘To even consider doing otherwise being to gain the proscription of the Clerics, sanely I had no desire to become a matter of special interest to those blood letters. In my boots, you would do no different, but rather as I, whatever it takes to survive and prosper within the domineering strictures of the regime.’
‘What of poor fools that stumble upon your own Warren defences unawares Fox?’ The Tusk added. ‘We each do what we must to defend our lives from those with power over us.’
If Nahrl was moved by any of that he showed no sign of it, though Tor fancied he clutched his spear all the tighter in vexed annoyance.
“Back to your present duties Tusk. You are probably far safer leading up front.”
‘Not that safe.’ Efor stated, giving the Tusk a shove with his multi-tool.
‘Everything about him disgusts me, even his excuses when partly valid.’ Nahrl admitted angrily.
“I don’t think the Slaver has any friends here. I trust you will see these marks well enough on the way back. I would put greater faith in your good Fox Scout eyes including over my enhanced Suit optics in such under darks, especially with these subtle Warren signs.”
‘I have noted it.’ Nahrl replied sounding confident enough.
Tor nodded. “Then on we go. Try not to dwell on some of it too much. I know too well it is far from easy. I find it hard enough myself, and none of those victims were flesh of my flesh. All anyone could do was end their suffering."
"Perhaps he is not utterly wrong though, about this matter, that the Dark Priests are among the worst of them, whilst ultimately the Dreamer at greatest fault for implanting such suggestions."
"Again I am glad they all went to the Mountain, some matters almost beg extravagant and erring responses that would naturally taint even those that would seek little more than an approximation of justice.”
‘I hold him equally responsible. It done in his house, under his roof, a fact that cannot be disputed. All who facilitated and condoned such things must share in the blame with those holding more power allotted more blame. I see no other way to judge it.’
“It is vexing at best. Yet it is too easy to harden the heart, and believe me I have been there and done that on too many occasions despite in my own way striving to see reason above all else."
"I have also striven to think again, to dream of redemption for others and even for myself. Remember Nahrl, those four Gladiators that are standing with us and helped to liberate your people are Tusks too. The Tusks may yet prove good Cousins again, despite the enormity of their lapses under the suggestions of the Dreamer. It may be hard to think of it now but a few generations hence… well it may all seem truly like a bad dream that has faded away.”
‘I cannot let it go - not with that one - it is too fresh. If only our Elders could be escorted to such sights then they could not sit or stand so aloof on their high stone Forum benches.’
Tor patted the Fox on the shoulder before leaving him to resume his rear guard position. It was no accident that Tor had stationed him there, furthest from Bhathag. There was no doubting his friend burned to slay the Slaver as a small recompense for all he had witnessed.
Back in formation they continued on. Passing but a little way when the ground trembled alarmingly for a time as with the aftermath of some distant earthquake. Progress halted as they paused in worried silence as if waiting upon some greater calamity or even a following whisper or shout of meaning. Natural or unnatural, Tor wondered, feeling somewhat buried and isolated, as if blinded to the doings of the wider world by entombing curtains of stone. It might even be some aftermath of the Great Reality Shift some Cascade Glitch in stability. Still, whatever it was, to them at least, it seemed but a minor happening in their deep shelter so they soon shrugged off the troublesome anomaly to venture once more forward.
Yet it preyed a little upon Tor’s mind nagging at him. Perhaps the sign of a collapse nearby in the mines, which their passage ably skirted. For Tor now convinced the way they took wove cunningly between likely voids bypassing, (just as Bhathag had previously intimated), any known regions previously excavated or natural hollows discovered. Indeed, it might even cut through some greater voids but be walled about to look as natural as any other intruding formation of solid rock as only Warren Foxes might readily contrive to engineer. Other caverns, tunnels and shafts maybe at times only a narrow shallow thickness of separating material away. The intrusion masked to seem no less bulky than any other imagined area of undisturbed or seemingly mine worked bedrock.
In the Warrens of the Taran Foxes, he had occasionally noted such confounding contrivances of seeming bulk that then proved due to turning one way or another little more, relatively speaking, than a shallow veneer of stone, as if naught but a rocky illusion of greater solidity, even as the swing floor that hides the pit trap below is potentially but a thumb thick.
Tor knew the ground here about, a mass of hollows, wrought through ages of mining that sought after every treasure seam of ore that might be rudely exploited from the rich bosom of the worldly depths. Tracks burrowing one into another until many olden areas became in places, by reputation, unsafe and unsteady. Old timbre braces and so on, in abandoned areas, rotting away. For the Tusks made great use of far more wood in shoring operations than Foxes having dominion over the surface world and thus access to any trees not yet stricken by axe. Though it was obvious they oft cut too much, and replanted too little, in their dominions. Therefore the ground around more permanent settlements in particular oft grew barren and bare of all but less useful bushes and saplings.
Tor minded to rap routinely at the walls with his multi-tool as he went along to perchance sound their structure. Yet guessed the Foxes might have ways to cunningly disguise such means. Besides, the rashness might prove nothing more than a forewarning to the foe with whom they would soon be clashing. Tor finding he was equally obsessing over Bhathag’s upcoming release, and the likely slaughter to follow. Finding belatedly his own - open - scheme perplexed him.
Tor wondering belatedly how Bhathag might hope to escape his grim fate. Perhaps the Tusk dreaming his forces could prevail despite the technological imbalance or at least distract via surviving long enough against his banes to enable flight. Yet in his poor condition how could he hope to flee with even a slim chance of success. Had he accepted a vain hope, having no other, and just to keep going. Otherwise, did he know some secret of the way he planned yet to turn to his advantage. One trap alone left, was that the truth? Surely their captive now desperate beyond casual measure and playing out the final hand he had available. Was it just vain hope now? For him every likely outcome remaining a disaster, each step bringing him a little closer to his end rather than to freedom. How would that feel? To Tor it seemed a mental torture that almost demanded a little sympathy. Would it have ironically been kinder to lie to the condemned?
In a way, it soon fascinated the Traveller, a rare example of the way life oft insisted in embracing an almost deluded at times absurdly positive spin, continuing against all obvious logic in the face of the worst of tidings. To Tor it akin to the very whisper of the End Times that might make any vain dream of progress and action seem ultimately a futile gesture. Yet it is known that all things end, that being the curse of mortality alone. Still, when that end becomes too obvious - too overbearing - a heart can easily break. Thus is it not wiser to escape to illusion, if illusion alone sustains you.
During the worst of times, it might seem only darkness and entropy await all, frigid eternal and uncaring. Perhaps some that worshipped the Darkness even subconsciously did so in a yearning to limit the elongation of their grim foreboding, though most likely not, more likely somehow they sought to escape the inescapable. Yet grimly, for a time, he dared to imagine existence as a forced contemplation of an inevitable empty meaningless - ever patient - nothingness, no wonder some clung to unlikely dreams of a brighter afterlife.
Truly confounded by the inner and outer depths of entropy, it was amazing how folk keep on moving, seeking those momentary transitory purposes and passing joys even when say trapped deep underground, as if lowly worms delving through a rotting carcass of a critically ill creation. A realm foreshadowed to a mocking and terrible dissolution.
How strange that perhaps now the Tusk sought after hope in his stepping doom, whilst of late, (seeing the dire works of worshippers of the Dark), Tor felt a sickening of his spirit including in the success of their Fort Liberation, such that even the bargain struck with the Tusk, now seemed an ill deed in itself. For if Bhathag was now doomed was it not Tor doing the dooming. Whilst even within an enforced assistance the Tusk became for a time part of their company making it a little easier to consider that not even this foe was all wickedness, despite monstrous things done and enabled to be done in his vile household.
Often it is not so easy to hate one who becomes more fully known, since you begin to see some disturbing commonality of attributes even of horrible likeness with some of your own failings. All Children of the Stars alike enough. Yet here they were - each fast in their opposing role - and Tor saw as they all headed towards the crux of crisis too few easy redemptions for any of the parties involved. Even justice casting a gloomy shadow, painting its own grim sense of doom on the wider proceedings.
In his mind, he questioned time and again what might be a fair interval once they loosed the Tusk to his fellows, prior to loosing their rage upon them all. In cold review, it all seemed a mockery of reason. A mere game of morality and ethics with no viable substance to it. A monstrous inevitability almost reduced to a child’s game of hide and seek. That Sentient Beings must fall so low, to such poor solutions as a more honest choice bedevilled him.
Yet once more he felt they could not reasonably let Bhathag go, or his people either, not by his reckoning of their needs. Still, the game now played itched at his storm tossed perhaps only digital soul. All for a time seeming a proliferation and projection of the looming cold dark, rather than a bright act of defiance by that tiny quivering spark that is the fragile warm light of life.
As he followed, (trapped in his place), the Interloper thought he began to understand the extremity of the holy hermit who removes himself from the temptations of even seeking to do a material good. Instead questing only after the doable purification of their own isolated retreating spirit via forgoing every challenge of striving in a realm were striving so naturally corrupts so very many.
One of the great ironies of existence being that even the blessed light is born of fire and fire to give its warmth must consume. The very stars eat their own mass and also ironically as part of their life and death cycle radiate the elements out of which such as this little group of souls were predestined to be formed including the problematic Slaver. In truth, they did in a way all consume - according to their nature - even as noted those glorious stars. Yet Tor still marked some actions righter and others more wrong and trod the path of his confounding and sometimes contradictory convictions of judgement. Knowing no better way that suited his present predicament.
Perhaps his present gloom just contemplating too long the doom of the Foxes as a people so long trapped under the malignancy of the Dreamer and their Dark Dream warped Cousins. Without doubt, for the Tusks other ways always existed, other choices. There are always other ways, did other ways exist for the Pentacle now? Must it be a temporary release for Bhathag then a planned butchering of him and his employees? What were the alternatives to such a seemingly foreordained cold blooded massacre? Once more he could not imagine letting the Slaver go free. It was not even about just punishment, not anymore, it was as much about logistical necessity as anything else.
To let Bhathag go would be to gift the foe with far too much intelligence on the newborn Liberation Movement's fragile nature and location. They had not embarked upon this, possibly unwise, venture to deliver themselves, and more importantly their friends, up to deeper harm. For a long time now it was not simply about the Triumvirate and their desires. Sooner or later the Interlopers must depart this lonely world via Ship, Portal or Terminus probably a mixture of these means, it was about the conditions for those they left behind in the wake of their meddling. Oh wise hermit, he pondered, that meddles not. For Tor could not imagine leaving his Fox friends in an even worse condition than when they arrived, it was intolerable.
They had an obligation of duty to these people once they got involved. Also, it seemed to Tor, an obligation to see what they had begun through to at least a modicum of an end, already he felt conflicted about somewhat giving up on Reefee, if only in his mind. For much might have happened since their leaving.
Besides, benighted entropic fate of the Great Machine or not, there was always the legend of Atlas II as an esoteric spur of hope. A slim chance for creation though, the lore springing but from a vague mention of a prescient calculation. Not much of a chance to cling toward, but when infinity threatens all with a circling oblivion… He too must walk on down the tunnel. When the darkness warps vast and terrible to behold, even a tiny lone light in a distant place waxing enough.
Life hardly exists, he concluded, to yield all hope to despair, rather by habit it somehow contrives to manage the opposite: Uplifting as a sapling from the seed, in mockery of all the ill fates that would cast it down under trampled foot. How many ills beset the fate of trees, and yet so many grow from those tiny delicate things into improbable bastions that stand tall and proud before the ruinous ages. So it is with life in general, spawned by some unlikely admixture of chemical synthesis or if you prefer in here by cunning Atlas design, to in time wrap entire worlds in its wondrous cloak of activity. Later through growing cunning, to reach beyond all former biological dreams, even to traverse and seed the voids between through need and desire.
Not even the rampages of the Sentinels could cast forever low the remnants of the pinnacle of life. The mad wars that defaced planets only altered the living things into new and unexpected forms, forms immune to the higher radiation and other hazards unleashed, including nuclear winters.
That was life, renewing in its splendour - born and perishing defiant - to live again: Beautiful in its elegant countless variety, delicate in its weirdly vulnerable strength, both embracing and rejecting its mortality as it rests within broader cycles of regeneration. Life that melds as the congregating cells weld together. Life that then reaches beyond the individual in sympathy and compassion to contemplate its own place in a web of astounding interactive complexity, spawning thought and reason. Life able to ponder the very emptiness from which it sprang and that ever seeks to swallow it once again and somehow not always in despair, but also simply to understand. Finding in the knowing a mysterious wonder. Life sometimes content just to be as well.
Life to which even such as the Slaver remained yet a part not to be too casually defamed, even after the enormity of his crimes, all such workings stitched into a broader pattern of the tapestry. Thus Tor attempted to paradoxically embrace and to let go all that must be, for a little while, whilst mumbling, “nothing really dies here.” It was a mantra that could mean anything, certainly far more than the obvious.
In truth, all just is. Whatever destined to be, would happen. Not that he was a great fatalist, Tor preferred, (on a good day), to believe in the power of life choices, even though sometimes he felt trapped by circumstances far beyond any hope of control. The Interloper knowing too well the many tracks and ruts of reality that can seemingly restrict your wanderings somewhat, even as the singular tunnel they now traversed seemed to go inevitably but one way to an unalterable hateful conclusion.
Yet sometimes, when able, a part of him raged against such inevitability: The restricting patterns, the invariable loops finding them a bane. Ever wanting to seek another way, the path less trod, the branch that might defy the conventions and habits that bind too swiftly. Was it not following too soon set conventions of their own fallen culture that for example enabled the Dark Clerics to continue undertaking abominations under the tutorage of the Dreamer? Yet at one point that had also been a breaking of saner ways.
How do you break the patterns that emerge into infamy in resisting a great evil? How do you fight without becoming as cruel as those you oppose? Tor pondered. Was the end of this tunnel really what he wanted for the Triumvirate, the Foxes or the Tusks?
“Stop.” He called out, and the procession halted.
Tor then had them gather around the best they could in the narrow way. He had at first thought to make discussion but in the end his want turned into a prolonged monologue.
"We need to talk, lest we fall too readily here into a martial trap of our own making. For a red rage has been full upon us given what we have seen. Perhaps it is time to reconsider what might be gained by other means, via cooler more measured and considered reactions. Especially for you Tusk. I don‘t know what you are plotting in vain, but I am positive you march presently only to your assured death all else a false hope. Whilst, in truth, that is a small atonement for the immensity of your crimes over so many long years and would serve our cause only in the shallowest of measures.”
“Consider this instead, hand over your people peacefully. Join our cause willingly as the Tusk Gladiators have done. I give you my word that this time you will be treated as fairly as is possible, even though it will not be easy. I expect some form of deep contrition will be required and your keeping will have to be given over to people that will see to your reformation with a harsh hand. For the lately Liberated, I imagine, will tolerate few lesser conditions. Yet you will live, and might become an example to all that even the deemed - worst of the worst - might be recalled from the strictures and evils of the Dark Dreamer.”
“At first I imagine you will be spat upon, cursed, hated and reviled as no other, yet if you prevail and humbly work with us overtime your position should change. As things grow, new recruits will know you only by your later reputation and actions. In time you might even be moved to a more comfortable place were folk hate you far less. A long and hard road, but it might see you fitter and prolong your life over the years that might otherwise be allotted, due to your previous path of gluttony and misery.”
“A sickness has been upon your people. I am convinced that illness cannot prevail against the Opening of the Sky, one way or another the Dreamer and the ill culture he fostered is doomed to an ending. This could be a mighty opportunity for you to shift sides and become part of the solution of the future, rather than just clinging to the doomed epitaph of a tainted past.”
“Believe me, it will not be easy, but it is a far better bargain than the one you have presently accepted. Not easy for us to sell either. We know how much you are reviled. If we do this we will be risking as much as you are. Yet this is a far better path. Moreover, refuse and you not only doom yourself but also those others of your people down here. You might think otherwise, but I promise you, none of you will prevail. You have seen only a little of what we can do.”
‘You speak of another surrender. Yet the last time I agreed to such terms you murdered all those you promised to treat fairly as prisoners of war.’
“I deeply underestimated the mood of those lately liberated not to mention our own security needs. I regret it. Yet some time has passed and I believe given these peculiar and different circumstances - if with considerable difficulty - I can reason with them. It helping if you are seen cooperating and through that cooperation to be assisting to secure - rather than undermining - our broader cause.”
“As I have said, acts of contrition and probation will, I do not doubt, need to be undertaken. Such tasks if nothing else to burn off some of the worst ire of your detractors. I do not think it will be fun for you, especially at first. Yet discomfort, even some physical suffering, might be readily endured and such would be a fair punishment. Whilst for you every act of willing contrition helping to secure your life and thus I think you would be wise to consider it potentially a price well paid.”
“I certainly can't offer you ease and plenty. Your days of gluttony are over. Expect and except a sentence of toil and repentance instead now, in hope of an eventual kinder future later. Give it some thought, certainly don’t dismiss what I suggest too quickly. I can see how you would mistrust my word. Yet I think you know me well enough to understand I rue what happened before and would not rush to repeat that action. Consider that I have a delicate conscience, if you wish, though know when pushed I will and have in the past done what is needful. I nonetheless much prefer to do what seems fair and just within the limitations of the possible.”
“The masses would have torn those guards apart brutally or worse. All I did was give them a cleaner transition to their next incarnation. In that moment, I believe nothing else would suffice. In truth, your ex Slaves would not have listened to reason. Yet now they have broader concerns including a fear that Pykael will cause an early investment of the Fort. If you can prove the means by which that action is delayed, well that should also stand in your favour.”
“We can secure you and yours in the dungeon spaces until a resolution is settled as to how you might be utilised best within the Fort and maybe in time even beyond, to the boon of all. Really we need to be expanding our operations. I believe success demands we grow this revolution as fast and as far as possible, before the Horde returns. So that if the Horde seeks to reclaim what is lost it must make considerable and open war that will arouse the Sentinels to intervene. An action that will surely happen sooner or later. The sooner all here understand the new order under which you live the better. Only though change can you hope to prevail as peoples and individuals. Believe me, you will not be able to contest the Machines.”
“You have mocked their return, but it is likely even some of your own people, if they have been abroad, may have noted the return of the Sentinels by now. Indeed some out there may already be falling foul of the Machines proscriptions on certain activities. The Sky is Open and I do not think it will close again. Your Dreamer no doubt planning something drastic with his recall of his Stalkers and bringing the Horde all about him as a living hedge, but I doubt whatever that one is planning will benefit your kind. No, I imagine it is in shock at the changes occurring and fearful for its own survival. A cornered beast that may lash out in who knows what desperate fashion.”
“If I did not see the patterns, I would not still be here. I would have those we freed flee away to the safety of Warrens uncharted by your slaving kind. Yet what use to free a few when the time is ripe to assist far more from a far wider calamity, including your people Bhathag despite your many foul deeds. For I firmly believe Tusk and Fox would do well to remember their old kinship in the days ahead. For I can hardly guess how far the Sentinels may consider your civilisation amiss. They may seek to lay low all your works until you are become once again naught more than simple beasts of the field. Yet even if the worst eventually prevails, you might seek shelters of your own underground akin to the Warrens to preserve something of your better selves even as the Foxes have long striven to do under the ill yoke of your occupation of their old lands.”
“This world you have lorded over under the Dark Dreamer, you must understand, is yours to lord over no more and the same for the Dreamer. Now it is just another preserve of the Machines who will continence no opposition. Fight and they will just reinforce until you lose or flee that is their way and I suspect the Dreamer understands that fact well enough. Thus he seeks in part to remove his forces from accidental strife with the newcomers. For all shall be subject here now to the Sentinels design just as it is elsewhere in Euclid.”
“I tell you I fear for all your futures if you do not credit the import of this simple fact. It is not about the Dreamer anymore, it is not about your old misshapen culture of abuse and infamous cannibalism. All that needs be set aside or the Machines will grind you to pulp leaving naught but more insensate creatures to roam lands grown wild.”
“Yet if you adapt and cease to despoil this world, they may let you be, acting merely as a policing force against aggression. As aggression and brutality is built into your system of slavery I do not see how it can stand, thus you would do well to let it go just as this feasting on your Cousins flesh that is so unnatural and counterproductive to any future unity of purpose.”
“I would suggest you make ready to change in all ways that seem necessary. Think on it well. Think on how your former slaves might become your most needful allies. I suspect the Foxes far better suited to adapting to Sentinel rule than your brash Horde. In likelihood the Horde will be clashing with the Sentinels long before they even depart the Mountain.”
“I offer you an opportunity not only to live but despite all your sins a way to join with those you have grossly misused. Else even if somehow you survive, I expect you will find only poorer comfort in the days ahead in a world you no longer recognise in its workings. The Machines will change everything you have known.”
“Convince your people to join us and come back with us to our Fort. To voluntarily enter confinement for a time until reconciled to the new union of effort. It is that or make ready to embrace death and rebirth.”
Tor looked to Nahrl fearing the Fox would object but the Scout just looked thoughtful. Hardly enthusiastic but mulling over all the concepts involved. Tor wondered if he thought it a ruse by him rather than an honest offering. A means to more easily take out the unknown opposition for example.
‘At best all I could do would be offer to speak with them. The way they react to such a rare proposal might well be fully beyond my control. They might take none of these somewhat absurd notions and threats of yours seriously. I myself am not yet convinced the Machines will make such a grand difference to anything upon this world. Likewise, that how things will go with the Horde relate to how you predict. As to the Foxes accepting me as a member of your revolution…’
‘Moreover Tor, to willingly work with you would be a mighty betrayal for which I can hardly imagine the punishments the Cult and Warlords would devise. It seems to me you offer us only death or damnation.’
“Call it what you like, whilst you have a life you might hope for better days. Of course, if you have faith in rebirth I suppose you might accept death as a new beginning as well. Yet I do not think you are one who embraces such blind faiths in hope, else you might have opted to die resisting our capture of your former home with greater dignity. Indeed, perhaps for a time, all I truly can offer you and yours is damnation - of a sort - but it is still life rather than death. What would you prefer a difficult new life or an easy demise?”
‘I think you are no longer sure of your victory over us, and that is why you now seek to cut a deal.’ The Tusk stated, Tor felt striving to look shrewd but to him seeming only ignorant, short sighted and foolish.
“Sadly, it is for the exact opposite reason, having witnessed our taking of your Fort I am beyond confident we suffice. I would simply prefer not to have potentially more blood on my hands than is necessary. Maybe if I had not felt forced to break my word earlier to those prisoners, I would not give you this rare choice now, only judge what must be done an aspect of a martial campaign. Yet what happened, happened and so chance now favours you with a - last moment - way out."
"Sometimes even a horrid ill can shake loose an unexpected blessing. That is one of the odder things about life, sometimes you just cannot foresee how the actions and reactions will shape the coming tide for there are so very many ripples.”