Tʜᴇ Fᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ Rᴇᴀʟᴍs [Fᴀɴ Vᴇʀsɪᴏɴ]

The Maw of Hospitality was erected—if infernal whispers are to be believed—as a PR stunt by a disgraced pit fiend turned marketing consultant. It serves as a "comfort station" for lost souls, adventurers, and would-be warlords making their first descent into Avernus. Inside its smiling walls, one finds a blend of helpful amenities and subtle torment: complimentary rooms that scream lullabies, a spa that exfoliates the soul (violently), and punch that promises to "refresh or possess." The staff, mainly lesser demons in bowties, greet newcomers with unblinking courtesy and suggestively offer to “hold onto your memories… just while you check in.” Beneath the farcical veneer, the Maw functions as a subtle test: every guest is judged, bartered for, or gently nudged toward damnation by demonic hosts with quotas. The building itself is alive—literally. It reshapes its halls when no one’s looking, swaps room numbers at midnight, and chews on anyone who tries to leave without paying.

A towering structure resembling a grinning demon's jaw, with ivory fangs forming the entrance and columns of bone and gold. The exterior drips with ichor, and a rotating sign reads: 'Welcome! You’ve Got Nowhere Else to Go!'