Tartarus was chaotic, violent and too strange, even for Hades.
There was no telling what could happen next, and which of its terrifying denizens would wreak havoc without warning, not a place where one wanted to spend even a moment.
It was much lower than Hades, farther down than the earth was from the sky, a bottomless pit of absolute darkness, where nothing ruled other than terror and uncertainty, and the expectation of untold monstrous creatures slithering in its depths unbeknownst to its dwellers.
A wall of bronze with heavy gates guarded its entrance, and nobody got past them without Hades’ say so.
The hecatoncheires patrolled its perimeter, rolling slowly around the damned on their hundred hands, watching them with a hundred eyes, so enormous their stature overshadowed the sun.
Their countenance was so off-putting even their father couldn’t bear the sight of them and got them imprisoned in Tartarus before the Great War between the gods and the titans saw the latter imprisoned there, and their vile temper got them constantly embroiled in some epic fight with their other monstrous siblings, the cyclops, conflict which shook the foundations of Tartarus with its thrashing and brawling.
In the middle of this unholy row the giant monster Typhon roamed his domain, carrying garlands of snake heads where the one head should have been, all of which boasted glowing eyes of fire.
From their sulfurous muzzles, terrible noises emerged, that sounded like all the frightening animals on earth have been brought together on purpose, as the Typhon ominously spread his dark wings, hovering over the bottomless abyss.
There was no telling of up and down there, no sense of direction, just the black waters of chaos with their unpredictable nature, and no one, mortal or god, could spend more than a few hours in its endless, dark and hopeless realm without going mad.
