10/05/2026: Portal to Cania

There is a moment, partway down a portal to Cania, the eighth layer of Hell, when the question of who drives the truck becomes urgent. Kiki is at the wheel. She then attempts something arcane to guide the truck safely, and the arcane declines. Kiki is relocated without consultation into the back seat, which is at least still inside the truck.

The wheel spins wildly, piloted by no one.

Reklaw is in the driver's seat before anyone can call a vote about who should be the replacement driver, and steadies the vehicle with the calm of someone who has been waiting for exactly this.

As he drives the truck further downward, a clamor of anguished screams and groans begins to pour in through the broken-out window. Devils shriek and bellow, adding to the chaos of the moment. A cornugon's scarlet, horned face presses itself hideously against the glass, just beisde Reklaw's left cheek. It is very large and not friendly. Then it is gone, and Reklaw has managed not to flinch.

⚔️

Finally, Reklaw spies the tiny speck of white somewhere ahead, and steers toward it. It becomes larger and soon, through it, the passengers can see a forbidding, frozen landscape beyoudn. This portal into Cania is guarded by four affliction devils and an escort of bat-winged things no one can identify. These creatures crouch low to the ground beside their keepers, adding to the atmosphere of menace.

One of the devils struts over to the truck and demands to know the party's business in Cania, along with the appropriate forms supporting their mission. The comrades explain that they are delivering a fallen angel, Lula, to Lord Asmodeus in Nessus, and are merely passing through Mephistopheles's realm. Their warrant, unfortunately, was surrendered earlier to Gratchis, back in Maladomini.

The devils begin cursing the incompetent Gratchis and they are unmoved by tthe party's lack of paperwork. But after the deception is explained jointly by Reklaw, Kiki, and Borark, the guards are willing to let them pass into Cania without it.

Except.

Except, the kocrachon tell the comrades that Lord Mephistopheles intends for Cania to have the highest collective intelligence in all the Nine Hells, and so he has ordered a test of all entries.

The first five riddles fall easily: the chicken warrior they abandoned. Souls. Gearloose. Contracts. Cold.

The sixth riddle stumps them:

Every devil hates me in another's words, and loves me in their own. I am the crack in every wall of promises, the door no lock was made to close. What am I?

The party tries lie. They try chaos. They try betrayal. With each wrong answer, a wave of killing cold blasts through the truck, and Reklaw takes the worst of it. He ends up much closer to frozen than anyone would like. Thunk applies healing. Guessing continues.

Then, through cracked and blue lips, the nearly frozen Reklaw whispers, "Loophole."

The barrier dissolves, opening just enough for the truck and its passengers.

The affliction devils step aside, making curious clicking noises among themselves as the truck rumbles past. The group does not think they are offering congratulations.

⚔️

The good news is that Cania is small. They can see from this high-up perch that it is a fraction of the layer above, and the Styx runs right through it.

The bad news is everything else about Cania. The party drives through onto slushy ice that slides beneath the truck's tires, now missing the Horeshoes of the Zephyr. Cania announces itself immediately with a hundred-foot waterfall, where the River Styx tumbles over a cliff and vanishes into the mists below.

Inside the cab, the less sturdy passengers are sinking into an overwhelming exhaustion from the penetrating cold. Kiki has not yet had time to repair the missing passenger-side window, and it is fast becoming a pressing need. But the group would rather put some distance between themselves and the portal guards first.

The truck goes over the edge. Kiki's well-timed Vortex Warp spell turns the plummet into a hop, crashing to the rocks below only for the final ten or so feet. The truck is dented but drivable. The passengers, a few of whom are built to shrug off this sort of thing, are fine.

The window is another matter. Cold keeps pouring in, and Thunk and Vali spend the next stretch of time slowly losing an argument with it. Even the party's cold weather gear only slows the steady advance of the frigid, deadly air.

As Reklaw pilots the truck, now a boat, down the Styx, the party huddles together for warmth. Nobody complains about the lack of elbow room.

⚔️

Several hours downriver, the party ties up at the vast scrapyard outside the Sorrow Mine. Acres of twisted metal, dead vehicles, and rusted hulls stretch up to the mine shafts that pierce the icy peaks through the forest of scaffolding. The canyons of metallic debris leading up to the great wheel are an artificer's very chilly dream.

Everyone braves the bitter cold and scatters to find whatever treasures lie in the chaos. Reklaw catalogs the wrecked hulks and starts thinking about brass knuckles, which will require a forge, which Hell presumably has. Gearloose gathers scrap to upgrade his permanently affixed mech suit.

Kiki repairs a damaged magical component with startling precision. She plans to attach it to the truck as a sort of rocket booster. She isn't sure, but she may need a second one, and she is hopeful about finding it a partner somewhere in this vast mountains of junk.

Vali pockets a moth-eaten bolt of cloth, a metal bar, and a small bell tuned to E-flat. He offers no explanation, but returns to the truck quietly, in a way that suggests a plan.

With help from the others, Kiki drags the thruster back to the truck and squints at it, debating where it should be mounted.

It is bitterly cold, and they are in the eighth layer of the Nine Hells. Kiki is in a fantastic mood.