I spend my days blasting tunnels through mountains of brimstone. Hell’s industrialising, and only a few hundred years late. It’s grueling work, but it’s work that’s gotta be done. Everyone takes the tram to and from their eternal torment, and ever since the boulder union cropped up, there’s been a pretty big shift in how things are run around here. Big S’ decided that the surface worlders might know what’s up with the whole wealth gap thing. What better way to torment someone than to dangle freedom just out of their reach?

One day though, something awfully peculiar happened. Saltpeter fell from the cavern ceiling, and blanketed the ground in beautiful, glistening white; this was of course, incredibly dangerous. seeing as We use coal to fuel our drills, and we were drilling through literal mountains of sulfur. The concoction of these three things makes something the surfacers call gunpowder, and it’s one of their favourite things. The fires and explosions spread all through hell, ruining the slightly-above-the-bottom-line of huge ceiling-scrapers, crumbling foundations and toppling entire structures. Big S called it the annual tax-refund.