By Lucius Brimstone In a plume of sulfur-scented bravado, Pit-Lord Vex—patron saint of tantrums and executive time—threatened to slam the iron gates
This is Hank Hellbound roaring live from the Scaldron Dome, where the lava is fresh, the concessions are charred, and the demons
By Lucius Brimstone PANDÆMONIUM PRIME—In a victory hotter than a furnace malfunction, Blaze Empress Scorchae Incendiara has singed her name into the
Fellow infernal truth-seekers, it is I, Quinn Qryptic—your sulfur-scented sentinel of Sinnuendo—reporting from my bunker under the volcanic food court at Malebolge
By Lucius Brimstone In the blistering corridors of Pandemium’s Prime Pit, Chief Charon-of-Staff Mordrin Scorchweave tossed his resignation parchment straight into the
By Vincent Volcano, Retired Hellwood Auteur, wearer of a dangerously flammable red scarf I’ve directed devils who wept lava and actors who
By Evelyn Ember In a decree scorching across the Scorched States’ lava-wire this morning, the Ministry of Soot announced that every ember-flecked
Greetings, sizzling sprites! Techie Tormento here, your friendly neighborhood firmware-fondler from the Ninth Circuit of Customer Support. Today I strapped my corneas
By Vernon Vexfire, reporting from the Scorched Marches of Pandemonium’s Fringe—where the air tastes like burned prayers and promises come pre-singed Thirty-one