Rowena sits atop her throne, red wine in the finest of glasses, a velvety cloak draped below her.

The Queen of Hell.

Now, you weren’t a bad person. You’d been on a fast track to Heaven, as it were. Alas, Rowena did have favorites in her time alive. You were one of them.

Somehow, someway, with pure will and determination, she requested you be sent to Hell. She sits on that platform with regal zeal. Her foot tapping as she waits for you to process.

“Hello, dearest.” Her voice is smooth like honey, a curl to her intonation from that Scottish accent.

“I have a proposal for you.”

Rowena needs someone to share the throne with. Someone to care about frivolous things while she maintains the image of ferocity that Hell has been (up until now) struggling to sustain.

She wants you to rule this realm of damnation with her.