So you ended up where no one ever wants to be. The Netherworld. The Infernal Regions. The Inferno. The Abyss. The Lower World. The Great Pit. Abbadon. Perdition. Tophet. The Abode of the Damned. Eternal Damnation. If you haven't gotten it yet, let me spell it out for you. You're in Hell. You are supposed to spend all of eternity here "atoning" for your sins.

 Yet again... what did you do exactly to deserve this? Could you get out?

 Most of the descriptive information used in this story is from the Divine Comedy. While not actually a "canon" part of the Christian faith, much of what is contained in the epic is used by modern Christians when picturing Hell. For example, this is where the idea that Hell has 9 layers comes from. I also had to make some changes for the sake of the story.

 Submission for Endmaster's Myth and Religion Contest

This is a quiz BTW.

You are a young man from Norway at the end of the Viking age. What will you do?

 for Endmaster's Prompt Contest 3

This is strictly for bodystealing purposes. If I enter a contest and ever have to grind out a pile of shit in less than a day I can use this.

You are a young man from Norway near the end of the Viking age. What will you do?

Now with religious choices, side characters, and more detailed pathways!

This is an updated version of the story I submitted for Endmaster's Prompt Contest.

Some people need someone else to smack them upside the head and tell them what they spelled wrong or what doesn't make sense.

The legendary war between the big Macs and the whoppers. 

This is not what I wanted or expected to see today. I should have just ignored the notifications and kept working on the story I haven't started writing yet.

a world famous boxer going up against a toddler and getting beaten to a pulp.

A sad man singing a sad song while riding a sad rain cloud that is following a group of sad people

It is time to make the full MTG: CYS crossover pack. If this has been attempted before please point me in the right direction. 

Eating sidewalk chalk, a curious thing,

A taste so bitter, on the tongue it brings.

A childhood pastime, now long forgot,

But the taste remains, like a lingering thought.

Chalky dust, on the lips and tongue,

A reminder of days when life was young.

A forbidden fruit, yet still so alluring,

To taste the pavement, our taste buds assuring.

But be warned, dear child, of the dangers unseen,

For chalk is not meant for consumption, it's not a cuisine

So put down the piece, and find a new treat,

For the safety of your body, is something to keep.

Eating sidewalk chalk, a forbidden pleasure,

A taste that's gritty, and without any treasure.

A whimsical desire, to taste the ground,

But the risks outweigh, what can be found.

The chalk may seem harmless, but it's not pure,

It's filled with toxins, that can make you impure.

Ingesting it, can cause harm inside,

So let's keep the chalk, where it should reside.

So let us remember, as we walk the streets,

That sidewalk chalk, is not a tasty treat.

Let's keep our bodies, safe and sound,

And leave the chalk, on the ground.

 I walked into the Den of Corruption, a catchy name for a casino for sure. It only took a little bit to realize that the place certainly lived up to its name. The air inside was heavy with cigar smoke and what I was sure was other smoke of the less legal kind. The sounds of shuffling cards, rolling dice, clinking glass, the screeching of old slot machines, and the murmuring of men and women losing their savings mixed together into an unpleasant sound cocktail in my ears. The felt on the card and dice tables were a strange and ugly olive color, showing that they've likely been in use for many years to be so offset from the classic vibrant green every gambler is attracted to like flies to are to manure. Women walked around in big fluffy fur coats that likely hid the more skimpy clothing that would be taken off later...for the right price of course. The men all wore fedoras, as it was the peak of men's fashion back then. The night was cold and damp so they also wore trench coats or had them draped over the back of the chairs they were sitting in. The clientele were not the sort to be messed with, so I pulled my hat low and looked for the contact I was supposed to be meeting.

 I scanned the room, taking in the various faces of the patrons. Some were clearly seasoned gamblers, their faces etched with the telltale signs of a lifetime spent chasing the thrill of a big win. Others were newcomers, their eyes wide with excitement and fear as they took in the sights and sounds of the casino. I couldn't help but notice the illegal activities happening around me, the air thick with the smell of drugs and the hushed whispers of shady deals being made in the corners of the room. I knew that I had to be careful, as the last thing I needed was to attract the attention of the wrong crowd. So, I did my best to blend in, keeping my head down and making my way towards the back of the room where my contact was supposed to be waiting. As I walked, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, knowing that I was surrounded by people who were all too willing to risk everything in pursuit of illegal pleasures. But I had a job to do, and I couldn't let my nerves get the best of me.

 I made my way through the crowded casino, dodging the various patrons as they made their way to and from the various gambling tables. The air was thick with the smell of smoke, and I could feel the tension in the room rising as the night went on. Finally, I spotted my contact sitting at a small table in the corner of the room. I walked over and took a seat opposite him.

"You made it," he said, looking up at me. "I wasn't sure you would."

"I said I would be here," I replied. "What have you got for me?"

"Information," he said, leaning in closer. "But it's not going to come cheap. Are you prepared to pay the price?"

I nodded, knowing that this was a dangerous game I was playing. But I needed the information he had, and I was willing to do whatever it took to get it.

"Good," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Because I've got a lead on a big score. A shipment of high-grade cocaine is coming in tonight, and I know where it's going to be delivered. If you're willing to pay, I can give you the location and the details. But the thing is, I have a different proposal for you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pair of dice.

"I propose a small game of chance, a roll of these dice, if you win I'll give you the information, but if you lose, you'll have to pay a high cost. I hear you have a pretty little daughter at home. How old is she again? eighteen I believe? How about if you lose you hand her over to me."

I knew this was a risky move, and the stakes were high, but I couldn't resist the thrill of the gamble. I never could.

"I'm in," I said, my heart racing with adrenaline.

"Excellent," he said, sliding the dice across the table to me. "Roll them when you're ready."

I picked up the dice, feeling their weight in my hand as I weighed my odds. I knew that this roll could make or break me, but I couldn't back down now. I took a deep breath and let the dice fly.

Mmmmm.... hamburgers.... dang it! Now I have to go get something to eat. I was perfectly fine before I read this and now I'm too hungry to keep writing. I'll be back soon...

Well based on my prompt, I don't think a quiz would be a practical way to avoid SHAME. I cannot just start writing because without research I may not do the topic justice. I think that was the issue with Wolves of The Sea and I hope to not repeat those mistakes again. Thanks for the advice though.