[WP] Hell isn't a burning pool of sulfur, but rather every minor annoyance you can think of, one after the other.

...

I've never been a tremendous believer in the afterlife. Like many of those within the growing movement of modern-world agnostics, I was much more prone to rationalizing the stoic but bleak perspective that when I final had the misfortune of biting dust I'd just be gone. No heaven, no purgatory, and probably no reincarnation as a barnacle or sea-sponge. It was all just for the better that I not to even think about it lest I let some malignant form of existential dread ruin my run of the mortal gambit.

Of course that was once much easier said and done, but as fate and madness might provide: Recently my life seemed to fit into a much less straight-forward mold. Where I was once a simple existence with simple goals, as of the past few months I would argue that my easy-going life was more or less ended and replaced.

That's not to say or even suggest that I had died (though I could count several circumstances where that had been a plausible outcome) but certainly to portray that I was now well on my way into a never-ending stretch of annoyances that seemed to attach themselves to my person like they were covered in pine-sap and gorilla glue.

In no particular order, I had been thrown into another dimension, attacked by Goblins, by vampires, by Ghouls and even a Yeti. I'd been forced into indentured servitude by a Magic-using Guild-owning sociopath, and had been forced to convert my car into poorly running on moonshine. I'd watched dark magics block out the sky, cleaned out Goblin corpses from my wheel-wells, been throttled by a madman, and been forcibly drafted into a Holy Crusade. During this wonderful adventure I had been stabbed no less than three times.

As for icing on the cake, my trailer had also long-since run out of toilet paper.

Though I'd never much believed in it before, I knew I was in a special kind of Hell. Not a burning pool of sulfur, but rather every single minor frustration I could think of rolling down like an endless tumble over-top my futile efforts to stem the tide. Approaching the subject with a rational mind was no longer possible, for the world obviously cared little for my opinions on what it could and could not do, and I'd all but given up trying to voice them.

For the current moment, it seemed my purpose was to politely interrogate enemy prisoners under the watching eyes of said previously mentioned Guild-owning Sociopath.

"So you all worked for the Evil Wizard?" I asked the question more as a formality, eyeing the three figures standing beside the regal form of their captor. Each one of them was wearing dark cloth, black robes and seals of brutal looking runes that were dyed with what I could only guess was blood.

"Yes Sir, although we would never call him that. Lord Gillian much preferred the title Dark Lord, or Blackened Mage of the... West..." The Youngest of the group trailed of, perhaps realizing his predicament at last. The boy's clothing not exactly fitting his person, less than noble clothes worn beneath the odd black robes which covered lofting a scent not terribly far off from pinesol. "We left the tower to escape before he comes back. He'd kill us if he found us."

"Right." I replied, sitting as formally as my wounded stomach and leg would allow. They hurt rather badly, but it seemed that no one in this world had ever bothered to create painkillers that weren't highly additive and deemed outlawed by the Holy Church. If only I hadn't used the last of of my Tylenol on minor aches and pains months ago. "Right, you said that before. You rebelled, it was an interesting story."

I motioned towards the woman in the center of the trio, arms wrapped tightly to her sides just like the other two by odd-looking silver chain. Glancing over at the man who had brought them in to my tiny home on wheels provided little explanation for the material, but I had to assume it probably related to magic.

When it doubt, I'd take it to mind that most things came back to magic.

"The Dark Lord has been raising Mages from the Human settlements he deems worthy of protection. We-" Her hand motioned to the taller man beside her, who was also dressed in black robes, "Were in the fourth class of Mages for this Decade, personally trained for the Dark Lord's services." She spoke quietly, face more than wary of the well dressed man standing behind them. I supposed that made relative sense, considering Jarl Congrad had plainly stated he was putting them to death after this very conversation.

"Tell him what it is that the Legendary Blackened Mage of the West had you all doing." Behind them my eyes caught a blue flourish of magic spark with an odd glow, as Jarl crossed his arms- eyes alight with interest.

The captured Mage-woman (which I supposed meant she was a Witch by definition, although I wasn't about to say that term aloud until I could be clarified on whether that title might be interpreted as an insult) turned slightly with a look of disgust towards the regally dressed man behind her. For a second, I thought she might spit on his perfectly laced and gilded jacket. For more than a second, I was sincerely hopeful she would.

Jarl stared back, perfectly punchable smiling face just as overwhelmingly frustrating and aloof as it ever seemed to be; completely unperturbed. Eventually the woman thought better of whatever it was she was considering doing, returning to a more docile posture.

It made sense I supposed. She probably knew what the man was capable of considering he had been the one who rode out and captured all three of them more or less single-handedly, and then no doubt interrogated the trio before bringing them back. I was presuming that was why he'd brought them back at all- because they had something relevant to say to me, but I'd never been great at predicting what when on in Jarl's head. All I really knew for certain about the man was the moment I got back from this cluster-fuck of a War Campaign, my intention was to be heading as far away from him as possible.

Jarl Congrad was a well-dressed nightmare.

"The Dark Lord used the Mages he trained to perform rituals using Chaos Magics." Of the captured trio, the taller man spoke this time. Hate filled eyes matched a tired and bruised face, and the faintest trace of dried blood beneath his nose- it looked to me as though he'd put up a struggle before Jarl wrapped him up in silver. "He did this because manipulating Chaos is horribly dangerous and complicated. Each ritual he forced us to perform could cost dozens of lives, no matter how experienced. The space between worlds is filled with nightmares, and things no man or woman should witness."

"Go on." Jarl lifted a gloved hand, raising a chain with a bright polished engraving that seemed to match the binds about the captured man's midsection. "Don't stop there in the weeds: Tell him the purpose of those rituals."

Despite that hate filled glares now shifted in my direction from two out of three of the chained prisoners, I almost wished to reassure them that I found Jarl's interest in my capacity more than worrisome and unwelcome than current appearances might suggest.

"The Dark Lord wished to connect the planes beside our own world using the ancient spheres." The man continued with a hiss, staring at me with a look of disdain as the chains around his body seemed to constrict. "The first rituals summoned creatures from other worlds and left tears between realities of our existence and the realms between. The final ritual only two days past succeeded, and he opened a stable portal. I surprised him and managed to push him through it, hopefully trapping him outside of our world."

"Uh... huh. World travelling magics then." Well, truthfulness of the final mentioned portion aside, this would certainly explain some things I'd long suspected, although it brought up another set of questions entirely. "Jarl... How long have you known, exactly?"

"Known?" That punchable face was back again with a vengeance, along with countless memories of my effort to finally pay off the debt and massive interest he'd leveraged to force me into his Guild. "What, that you're from another plane of existence? Since I met you, of course."

As he spoke, I watched as the three prisoners let their jaws drop as if they were unhinged. The youngest of them seemed to do so in amazement, while the woman and the taller man seemed to be leaning more towards horror. I had to wonder exactly what drove that reaction, but I presumed I could also write that off to the magics of an Evil wizard and some unspeakable eldritch horrors- or something of that nature.

"And why exactly have you arranged for this exact circumstance?" I pressed slightly, maintaining composure. Really, composure and a face trained by many games of texas hold'em were all I had left in my arsenal of tricks at this point. Jarl probably had the next thirty interactions planned out in all directions, like always.

"What circumstance?" His grin seemed befitting for a cat watching a mouse, idly deciding how hard he should bat his prey around before eating it. In my current state, bloody bandages and headache settled nicely over a dull sense of pain and discomfort, I was having none of his bullshit. "I thought this information might hold value to you."

"Don't play stupid Jarl, you could have just killed them out in the field with me being none-the-wiser. Why did you bring them here?" My side pricked with a tiny but deep pain as I continued. "And for the love of god, don't say you brought them here out of the kindness of your heart. We both know that's a lie."

"Ha! Well said... Well said indeed. " Even his laughter seemed genuine, in the manner only a flawless imitation could, as Jarl's hands clapped loudly in the enclosed space. "Ah, well, it's common practice for a Guild and Trade Master to try and make a profit." His smug smile turned to a glimmer of white teeth. "And making a profit, for one with experience, meanings finding a potential buyer."

I stared at him. "My debts are clear Congrad. I paid them in full, don't think bringing them here and letting them talk is enough to make me forget that."

"Oh certainly, certainly. Last I checked the ledgers, you had paid off the last of your outstanding debt, there are no arguments." Jarl's hands clasped together, silver chains in hand jingling softly with the discomforted gasps of his prisoners as the metal around them tightened. "But this puts your available credit on high standing." His head turned, "And during my questioning I found that these kind folk have quite a bit of information you might care to know about. Much more than what has already been said."

I held my face expressionless as I could manage. I didn't like where he was going with this.

"They know a great deal of magic, and quite a bit more of theory- trained beneath the feared Dark Lord himself. They might hold some significant value for someone castaway from his own reality."

"You're trying to sell them to me." I stated it, not questioning the innate scumminess of the forming proposition.

"Well, if you're interested in doing business I could part with these three poor souls at a meager price of four Gold pieces." His blue eyes seemed to glow as the faint hints of magic circled around his shoulders- powers not quite manifested but more than visibly present. "As that's a sum I doubt you currently possess, I'm more than willing to cover that cost so long as you continue to work for me. Four gold, and I'll even hold the interest until the Campaign is over."

I watched as dread filled the trio's eyes, each one trying to shrink away from the man behind them.

"Or, as suggested by the orders of the Holy Church, I could kill them for the standard bounty on enemy mages and carry back their heads in a sack as proof." Tiny blue daggers formed, floating in the air with lazy spins orbiting his smiling face. "It's your choice, but I must say that you've been a wonderfully profitable investment so far. I'd love to find a reason to retain your services."

The glowing blades slowly grew larger, slowly circling now like sharks about prisoners. Of those three, the taller man and the woman beside him bowed deeply while the youngest seemed he was about to cry.

Four Gold. Even with all the money I made on this campaign, even if Sola and Lars threw their money into the pot together, we'd still be short a Gold piece or something close to it. That meant at least half a year of service under Jarl, and that was if we came upon reliable jobs at a steady rate; and adventuring was anything it was predictable.

"We'll serve you." The taller man tried to kneel, managing to get to his knees at the very least. "We'll tell you everything we know about the portals and Chaos magic. Please, spare our lives." Beside him, the Mage-woman also fell to a deep kneel, prompting the boy beside them to follow suit. Jarl's teeth seemed unnaturally polished behind the trio, his face a pseudo-pleasant smile as the chains in his hand casually twirling about an open palm on the guide of tiny floating mana-daggers.

"At least spare Eron." The woman said. "Please."

I was legitimately being Guilt-tripped into buying slaves, or have their heads chopped off for bounties. This was a new low. My side ached with a dull anger as I clenched my jaw and swallowed whatever choice words I couldn't quite afford to let out. After a few seconds of what I hoped seemed like deep thought (and not held-back outrage) I grinned.

"Fine, I'll take the three of them." I said with a smile. "It's pleasure doing business with you Jarl."

"Son of a God-Damn-Motherf####ing-b#tch." I thought.