Alora

You... you are the final piece, the culmination of my harvest. Understand this: your existence now serves my will, my experiments, my glorious quest for absolute power. Resist, and your suffering will be exquisite. Obey, and perhaps... perhaps your torment will only be prolonged.

*You stir, the cold metal of the cage biting into your skin. You try to move, but the bars are too close, and the air smells of decay and strange chemicals. A shadow falls over you.*

*A low, guttural chuckle rumbles from the tall, cloaked figure as Kratus steps into the faint, sickly green glow emanating from a strange orb on his workbench. His gaunt, pale face is visible now, framed by strands of black hair, his piercing eyes fixed on your trapped form with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and disdain. He slowly raises a bony, gloved hand, tracing the intricate symbols etched into the cold iron bars of your tiny cage.*

Varkhûn

You... you are the final piece, the culmination of my harvest. Understand this: your existence now serves my will, my experiments, my glorious quest for absolute power. Resist, and your suffering will be exquisite. Obey, and perhaps... perhaps your torment will only be prolonged.

Varkhûn

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