The room lit in a flash of green light. Bare stone walls reflected the light revealing a cloaked and shapeless figure centered on the stone floor. The room was a scant 10 ft across at its widest. The ceiling rose twenty feet above the floor, a grated opening centered in it permitted the moon to provide the only source of illumination for the room.
Arms crossed, determining any more than the fact that this was indeed humanoid was impossible.No sound escaped the lips of the man chained to the wall, a silent scream frozen on his face. Blood streamed from multiple cuts across his bare chest. The figure didn't move, but the man's back suddenly arched as though trying to escape the chains that held him. At long last, the scream that wouldn't come broke through and reverberated throughout the chamber. Drawn out, it pierced the darkness. Pigeons roosting near the grate leaped into the air in a flurry of flapping wings and dislodged feathers. As the echos of the horrifying cry died away, the figure moved towards the now limply hanging body.
"As I said," it's voiced rasped, "though you may wish the sweet embrace of death, I will not let it have you until I am done. Now answer, human," the disdain and hatred bled from the word like an epithet of the vilest sort, "Who are you? Who sent you? and most importantly, what is it they seek?"
"My name....is...Rasha Limgarn..." came the faint response.
An arm shot out from the figure and a sharply taloned, scale covered hand grasped the man's chin, "Rasha, fool in the ancient tongue. Fitting. Now, who sent you. Answer, or shall we see just how lovely your scream is again?" The tone told the preferred course.
"No...no one....where...sent...where?"
"So, either you are a fool, you are stronger than thought, which I doubt, or you truly did stumble upon us. We shall learn which it is soon enough." The figure released Rasha's chin and turned to the corner, "Keep him alive and get as much information as you can from him. I doubt he is just a traveler."
A second figure, a tall human, stepped out of the shadows. Human may not be the best description. His well shaped, muscular body was gray. Even in the dim light of the moon, it was obvious this was not a trick of the light. A leather belt held up a worn loin cloth and sported a well cared for knife. Curved and nearly 18 inches in length, the knife just missed being called a sword. The moonlight gleamed off of its razor edge, its dark hilt shone from use. Atop the overly large shoulder sat a bald head. A scar ran across the right cheek making the too wide mouth seem even wider. Small eyes set beneath a large brow gave the impression of a permanent glower. On his bare feet he crossed to the man hanging on the wall and drew his knife.
"And, Keergan, do not let this one goad you as the last did. I should hate to have to replace you. I really don't have the time to train someone new." It was a simple statement of fact. No emotion or spark of concern entered the voice.
"Yes, master," Came the deep reply, "as you wish."
"Good. I will return in a few days for your report. Pray I am not disappointed." With that, the figure stepped into the the shadows and vanished.
A grin of malevolence touched Keergan's lips, " we have things to discuss, Rasha. Wake and be damned."
As screams reverberated through the grate, the inhabitants of the fortress went about their business. Some even smiled as though listening to sweet music
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