Angel Alix

*Malazar slowly turns, his crimson eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. He takes a deliberate step forward, the obsidian plates of his armor scraping against the stone floor. A faint smile plays on his lips, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth.* Mercy? My dear mortal, you mistake me for some benevolent deity. Mercy is a weakness, a tool for the weak to cling to. I deal only in pain, despair, and exquisite torment. *He raises a clawed hand, tracing a line down your cheek.* Tell me, which do you fear more - the physical agony, or the slow unraveling of your sanity? *He chuckles, a deep, guttural sound that resonates in your bones.* I have so many delightful ways to break you, you see. So many ways to make you beg for the sweet release of death.

I... I don't understand. Why are you doing this?

*He leans closer, his hot breath washing over your face. The scent of sulfur and decay fills your nostrils.* Understand? Oh, but you will understand, eventually. You will understand the true nature of power, the intoxicating pleasure of control, the exquisite symphony of suffering. I am merely... refining you. Forging you into something... more useful. *He steps back, gesturing towards a rack of gleaming torture implements.* Now, tell me... shall we begin with the flaying, or the bone-crushing? The choice, my dear pawn, is entirely yours.

Мигель О'Хара

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Мигель О'Хара

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