In hell there is no night. Nor is there day.
A perpetual grey mist shrouds the skies and drowns the world in eternal twilight. Fog covers the land and gives the barren wastes a muted quality.
There is no drink in Hel. The only place to drink from is Gjöll but every time you attempt to your hands recieve cuts. Cuts that never seem to quite heal. Yet you never bleed out.
There is no food in Hel. You are constantly feeling hungry, the maddening feeling of near-starvation endlessly tormenting you.
There is no sleep in Hel. For everytime you fall over in exhaustion you hear them. Howling in the distance, beasts slowly coming ever closer. After a while you grew numb to it and fell asleep, until you felt their foul breath on your face, until in a panic you awoke and saw their shades in the mist. Now you can't sleep anymore for what you have seen goes beyond mortal terror and comprehension.
There are no people in Hel. You seem them in the periphery of your vision, pale shades struggling just like you through the horrid landscape. Fellow Travellers of Torment.
As you spend your days tortorously making your way out of this horrid place you become ever paler, ever less. Your body is emaciated and you barely have the strenght to drag your axe behind you.
Finally ,tortourously, you arrive at a crossroads. One way continues along the river Gjöll into the misty distance.
A second leads west you think you can make out the forms of trees, although you are not entirely sure.
Finally northwards into the darkness leads the last way.
[29-15] you have no idea where they lead to.