Excerpt from "Patron's War"

I suppose we have a little time free now. I can get to that question you asked earlier about the Sins. It's hard to pin down exactly what they do here. In one sense, they're our jailors, the wardens to make sure the inmates do as they are told. In another sense, though, they're prisoners just like you or I. I suppose for the sake of precision, the best way to describe it is to say that they "reign" but do not "rule."

It isn't that they're in charge because they're stronger, smarter, or nastier than everyone else... nesissarily. It's more like a representative study of the living world- people need to see someone in charge. And since we seem to be sort on pitchfork-wielding goat-men, we must make due.

They're also in charge for a more subtle reason- they serve the "common good." Each of the Sins, intentionally or not, makes life eternal a little more bearable and Hell a little more like home.

Indulgence's extravagences made an upper class in Hell viable. These are the sychophantic fools and flatterers that dance around in masks and inflate themselves with the title of "Devil," "Demon," or "Duke." Indulgence's court was the polarizing force that reestablished the conventions of social opression that we are all so comfortable with. Imagine a city where all men are equal... Now there is a real mess for you!

It is Avarice's tender mercies that give us the goods we enjoy so. Cloths that deteriorate in weeks, food that tastes as vile as it is unsatisfying, and weapons to strike down your fellow man. Still, despite the quality, something is better than nothing, you must admit. For a man whose tastes have been honed to a razor's edge, like myself, every single trinket pumped from Avarice's factories, forges, and farms is an offense as sharp as a knife in the, ahem, the eye. I dare say you'll be less troubled, however.

And where does Avarice get his wonderful, smoke-belching factories from? Why, from the fevered, icy mind of Hubris, naturally. The Inventor largely leaves the rabble untroubled, but every advance, upgrade, or break-through that we see, comes from her cold, clock-work logic. From what I understand, Hell is somewhat more advanced than Earth is at the moment, and there's a comforting thought, isn't it? That technology has taken the Damned to her metal breast first and foremost is rather amusing to me.

As you may have surmised, this is a big city. And, even with Hubris' most bizarre contrivances, it's impossible to know what is going on everywhere. That is where Resent claims her position: running the offical newspaper of Hell. Never mind that most of the news is a series of elaborate and sensational slanders against whom so ever seems to be enjoying a modicrome of fortune at the moment. Afterall, Resent gives us what we want- a looking glass to the misery of man and a magnifying glass for the misery of our neighbors.

For those who'd rather visit misery on his fellow man than simply read about it, there is Rancor's war. Before you ask, I don't know who he wages his war against. I doubt he even knows. Maybe it's against no one. More probably, it is against everyone. And all you have to do to sign up is to start following orders. Every atrocity ever committed in any war began with a man who was just doing what he was ordered to do. Before he realizes it, he begins to enjoy the status and- more importantly- to hate his opponent. Rancor's war gives people a place to channel their despair and frustration and, convieniently enough, keeps the Thorns fighting amongst themselves too much to depose of the Devils.

Which brings us to Him. For safety's sake, I'll try to be brief. He says that every raping, murdering, blasphemous soul down here went to Heaven when it died. That's right, this is Heaven. And what it lacks in halos, harps, and helping hands, it makes up for in physical pleasures. Why were we supposed to deny ourselves in life if not to indulge ourselves in the afterlife? And, if you don't believe the message, he will be more than happy to sit you down and explain it to you in Great Detail. That's why we avoid speaking of him, or saying his name idly; we've seen what has happened to those who attracted Passion's gaze.

Finally, we come to the most frustratingly important of the Sins: Apathy. Dante didn't quite have it right- we aren't totally without hope. That's what Apathy brings us. They say he knows everything; a doctor in all sciences and a scholar in all fields. The problem lies with his nature- with a name like Apathy, you can probably guess how eager he is to help those who call on him. So, we wait and wait and wait. Apathy gives us the fool's blind hope that keeps us from curling into a ball on the streets. And there are just enough rumors of Damned who get out to keep the hope alive, no matter how unsympathetic Apathy seems.

There are those who think the Sins are our natural guardians, appointed by whatever power sends the Butchers. I don't believe that tripe for a moment. For one thing, the Strangers- the only creatures down here that seem to know what they're doing- don't obey the Sins. They don't actively oppose them either, however. They seem to just ignore them. You wouldn't believe how furious that makes the Sins.

For another reason, there is this story that has floated down here for longer than anyone can recall. The story of a bargin between Hell and Purgatory...

But that's best saved for another time.