Mortimer at Mindor ( I )

Mortimer smiled as he saw Narrin arrive over the horizon. She was a nearly flawless steed, but she had a tendency to become anxious when they were apart. His friend, the stabler whom he trusted, knew to let her go when she got a certain way - an Mortimer knew to pay in advance.
"Well, there she is," said Mortimer, "I suppose I'll be going. You can handle things here?"
"I absolutely can, sir," said Milly.
"Alright." He turned towards the balcony.
"One thing, sir," she said.
He turned around.
"Yes?"
"There's a new royal order that all Her Majesty's soldiers and guards must carry one of these when abroad." She handed him a scroll of parchment. "Don't open it unless you need it."
Mortimer read the side of the scroll. It said: Scroll of Summon Lawyer III.
"I have to take a lawyer scroll?" he asked, "What's the deal? One time use?"
"Not exactly, sir, but I wouldn't use it too much."
"Well, I'm sure I won't need it at all. What prompted this, anyway?"
"Well, Sir Teleos finally slew the Dreaded Llamabeast he's been questing after all these years -"
"Good for him!"
"And it's family sued for Wrongful Death."
"Oh," said Mortimer, shuddering, "Well hopefully it won't come to that. I'm out."
He gave a quick salute, then lept over the edge of the balcony onto his waiting steed. He could feel beneath him how refreshed Narrin was. He knew the feeling. Spending the night in his own bed had been wonderful, but he was ready to go. A short flight later he arrived at the Mindor Shrine.
The shrine itself was a collection of huge, reddish stones jutting out from the ground in the middle of a desert field. In the center was a circle of perfectly cut shrubs, with a gap in the front for entrance and exit, and in the center of that was an ancient marble altar. The inscription beneath it read:
Ye who seek to enter Hell, and venture back to earth,
Give thy blood to come and dwell, but lose the gift of thy birth.
Alright, he thought, Here goes nothing.
He took out the knife. He took out the jelly. He slid the knife's blade across the jelly. He put it to his hand. He took a deep breath. He sliced. Quickly, across his palm. The wound hurt like being sliced in the palm with a knife, but there was also a harsh sting from the jelly he hadn't expected.
"YOWWWWWWWWzerderblermuffin!" he cursed as he allowed a little blood to drip from the wound. The sting wasn't going away. Had Melvin tested this stuff in open wounds? Probably not, Mortimer concluded. At that point his thoughts were interrupted by a thick billow of red smoke emerging from the shrine, where his blood had fallen. As he watched the smoke rise, Mortimer wrapped his handkerchief aroud his hand. If any extra blood fell on the ground he could be in trouble.
The smoke was becoming denser and smaller, forming into the shape of a man. A man with horns. Wait no, a woman with horns. And a paisley dress. A rather rotund woman at that.
"Hello dear," she said, "Have you called upon the unnatural forces of this place to open up a portal to the land of the cursed dead?"
"I have," replied a slightly taken aback Mortimer.
"Name?"
"Tim Strong," he tried to say, but the words came out " "
"You're in a zone of truth, dear," the demonic receptionist said, "You can't lie here. Name?"
"Mortimer Lima Bean."
"You understand that by dripping the blood you've entered into a contract with Satan, pledging your soul to him at the time of your death?"
"Yes."
"Alright," she said, magically producing some papers, "Sign here, and initial here, here, and here."
"What is this?" asked Mortimer suspiciously.
"New Security measure, honey. Nothing to worry about. We like to do a written contract in addition to the blood to make sure nothing's funny."
A written contract? Mortimer had never heard of that practice. And Mortimer heard everything. Plus if he didn't get through soon, the jig would be up - the blood would dissolve and he'd be exposed. He wished there was an easier way to get the information he needed. He looked down at the contract. It was in so much legalese he couldn't make heads or tails of it. He did the only thing he could think to do. He got out the scroll.
***
Will Mortimer make it into hell? Will he make it out again? Will the trip prove at all useful? Find out when Mortimer Lima Bean returns!