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Drogan paced back and fourth , bringing the chalet and Vase of dark blood too the table. Slowly he looked around and saw the other soul's that were used as slaves too the Monstrous Balor Xanyvemoyr Helxoryix . A small elf, Pittiful really, she walked as a shell of her former self, most likely sold into slavery just as he had been. A Human male, he looked about mid age, worn and beaten. they had the same scar's of torment as he. Drogan closed his eyes quickly and thought back too his life when he was alive. He would never forgot that night at the tavern, when Lida,and Calandra let him die too the Limestone wizard of thay. That son of a bitch would pay one day. In this life or the next, Atleast he hoped so anyways.
Drogan finished pouring the blood into the cups, then began too head back too the kitchen where he would begin tearing appart the days meal, a small child a demon had given the Balor for a gift. The child had already been killed and skinned, per orders by his master.
Drogan walked through the pillars of ashen stone which stood with carved pictures of battles lining the walls. The floor a dark hue of red and black. The walls seemed atleast 40 foot tall so that his dark master and his minions could walk easly without scraping there heads. Drogan hated this awful place, but was held by a protection ring around his leg. This ring was enchanted and was kept there too keep his spirit at bay. Drogan could not feel the ring, but new it was always there, a reminder that he would be punished for everything he did daily, including what he was supposed too.
Every day, which he felt quite odd about since everything was red in the sky, he would be taken into a room filled with knives and weapons of unimaginable oddity. From here he would be chained too a wall and beaten with barbed chains. The pain never subsided, and his wounds never close. Once his torturer , which he affectionally called Xyorim, entered the room, his flaming whip sitting at his side, he began toying with Drogan, licking at his legs with his whip. The fire burned deep within the Gnome, for this was not just physical but it was his soul that was being burned. He would scream in pain which only enticed the creature to continue, and eventually use other objects, The demon's favorite object of choice was his rack. Drogan would be plated too this rack using hot iron's which had nails embeded within the inner seals. These dug into the gnomes wrists making him bleed endlessly, screaming in pain as Xyorim would then begin too twist the handle's making the small gnome's body stretch and tear. But no, this is not where the fun ended, The demon would then take a blade shaped as a bend finger, and at the end of the finger sat a glowing ember. This ember would be sat on the gnomes chest, where it would burn through until it reached his back and fell through. The pain and screams never stopped, no matter how many times his body would heal itself.
Drogans body although in another realm, was still corporal within the lair of the Balor. This way the torture would be everlasting, yet his body would never die. Many times Xanyvemoyr Helxoriyx when having dinner guest's would let his minions feed on Drogan and the other souls. They would be drained until almost dust, then given the time too rebuilt there body's so they may be fed on again. To have your soul destroyed in this way was the most painful and imense thing the gnome could imagine.
Drogan finished pouring the blood into the cups, then began too head back too the kitchen where he would begin tearing appart the days meal, a small child a demon had given the Balor for a gift. The child had already been killed and skinned, per orders by his master.
Drogan walked through the pillars of ashen stone which stood with carved pictures of battles lining the walls. The floor a dark hue of red and black. The walls seemed atleast 40 foot tall so that his dark master and his minions could walk easly without scraping there heads. Drogan hated this awful place, but was held by a protection ring around his leg. This ring was enchanted and was kept there too keep his spirit at bay. Drogan could not feel the ring, but new it was always there, a reminder that he would be punished for everything he did daily, including what he was supposed too.
Every day, which he felt quite odd about since everything was red in the sky, he would be taken into a room filled with knives and weapons of unimaginable oddity. From here he would be chained too a wall and beaten with barbed chains. The pain never subsided, and his wounds never close. Once his torturer , which he affectionally called Xyorim, entered the room, his flaming whip sitting at his side, he began toying with Drogan, licking at his legs with his whip. The fire burned deep within the Gnome, for this was not just physical but it was his soul that was being burned. He would scream in pain which only enticed the creature to continue, and eventually use other objects, The demon's favorite object of choice was his rack. Drogan would be plated too this rack using hot iron's which had nails embeded within the inner seals. These dug into the gnomes wrists making him bleed endlessly, screaming in pain as Xyorim would then begin too twist the handle's making the small gnome's body stretch and tear. But no, this is not where the fun ended, The demon would then take a blade shaped as a bend finger, and at the end of the finger sat a glowing ember. This ember would be sat on the gnomes chest, where it would burn through until it reached his back and fell through. The pain and screams never stopped, no matter how many times his body would heal itself.
Drogans body although in another realm, was still corporal within the lair of the Balor. This way the torture would be everlasting, yet his body would never die. Many times Xanyvemoyr Helxoriyx when having dinner guest's would let his minions feed on Drogan and the other souls. They would be drained until almost dust, then given the time too rebuilt there body's so they may be fed on again. To have your soul destroyed in this way was the most painful and imense thing the gnome could imagine.
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