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- Character Biography
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It took Rulf a while to realise that he'd stopped screaming. The only sound in the room was his breathing, hard and fast. His heart pounded furiously inside his chest, trying to break free. The shaking came soon as the adrenaline hit him like a wall. Rulf whimpered and bowed his head. The stench of burnt flesh was strong, offending his senses. If his clothes weren't already covered in his own vomit, he was certain he would have retched again.
"Are you done?" the voice cut through the silence like a knife. There was no emotion behind that voice. The question was asked pleasantly in a sing song tone. The sound of a man asking if the weather had cleared up. Rulf gathered his courage and looked up.
Those yellow eyes were still fixed on him. They were completely devoid of emotion. Rulf's view fixated on the sliver of metal being waved between them. It danced back and forth in his torturer's dexterous hands. Slowly, ever so slowly, it descended towards his shattered hands. So far the torturer had come at him with hammer and flame, but not the knife. His hands were a crumpled mess, every bone cracked. Little whisks of smoke still wafted upwards where they had pulled off his little fingers and burned the stumps.
Rulf had once seen a beggar with hands just like that, he suddenly recalled. Gnarled and twisted and missing digits. He could vividly remember the smell of the back alley, and his disgust as the bony arm reached out towards him from beneath a pile of rags. He hadn't even gone for his bag of coin, he had recoiled from the horrendous sight and hurried on to escape the Eblion docks. Rulf looked down at his own hands, once strong, now horribly maimed and caked in blood. He felt the hot tears on his cheeks and was almost glad of a sensation that wasn’t pain.
He had never known pain could be painted in so many different colours.
"Are you going to tell us what we need to know?"
The question was simple. Rulf tried to pull his hands away as the flat of the knife was rested on the back of his hand. He knew it was useless to pull against the shackles. The blade was ice cold.
Rulf's breathing started to speed up again. The sound of his quick, shallow breaths reverberated around the room. He couldn't quite muster the strength to say 'no'. He shook his head. His eyes were fixated on the knife. He could not turn his gaze away. He just wanted to close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening.
The emotionless gaze changed for a moment. Disappointment and maybe frustration flashed across the torturer's features. The knife tilted upwards, the point pricking his skin. It held there, motionless, for a few seconds.
It pushed down hard, blood welling around it. Ever so slowly it started to move up his arm, leaving a gaping cut behind it. A deep, guttural noise escaped Rulfs's lips involuntarily. Slowly at first, but speeding up, the knife cut one long straight trail. Rulf bit down hard, tasting blood in his mouth. Powerless to stop what was happening, yet desperate for the unbearable pain just to come to an end. The knife quickly sliced a parallel path and a final cut joined the two near his hand. His torturer had a deft touch with the blade. Rulf had never even imagined pain like this before. There was no way to make it stop, it came and it went at another's wish. There was no bearing this pain, no shrugging it off. It was an experience that wouldn't let him go, would not release him from its jagged claws.
The knife - its previously shiny blade now tainted with dark red - was placed on the table to the side. A pair of thin tongs was picked up. Rulf watched with horror as the implement grasped his skin where the three cuts met. He knew what was coming next.
"This will make you realise that what we've done so far was no more than pleasantries. Talk?"
The offer was left there, hanging in the air, for nearly a minute. Eventually, Rulf gave the slightest shake of his head.
Without pause, his torturer yanked hard on the tongs. Hot pain blossomed from his arm to reach across his whole body. The edges of his vision turned black as his eyes rolled back. Rulf hadn't even realised he was screaming until he stopped.
He didn't want to look down, he desperately didn't want to look at what had been done to his body. And yet, as his whole body trembled, he found himself looking down. The whole strip of flesh, an inch wide, had been peeled away to expose the muscle below. Blood welled in the wound, around the blobs of yellow fat that had been left behind.
"Please," he whimpered.
"Time to talk?"
Those green eyes held his gaze again. Emotionless, expressionless. Rulf shook his head. He tried to voice some defiant statement, but he knew his resolve was slipping away. He just wanted the pain to end. It was too much, it was...
The red dark spots encroached on his vision even further and he felt consciousness slipping away from him.
His eyes blinked slowly as his view came back into focus. Rulf slowly came around to find himself still in the small dingy room. His torturer sat opposite him still, but his eyes were shut. It seemed as if he was sleeping, but then those bright yellow eyes snapped open. The scarlet tail appeared above the edge of the table, giving an amused flick. The slender torturer looked him up and down. Always appraising him, those eyes, never giving anything away.
Rulf mustered the courage to look down at his hand. It was fine. The absence of pain was startling, there was just a deep throbbing in the hand. His tired, groggy brain struggled to grasp at understanding.
"It will take a moment for your mind to reorientate itself, it has been through so much," the torturer stated plainly. “Soon you’ll start to recall what we were doing before your ordeal, any just how many times you’ve been through it.”
Rulf shook his head trying to focus. The pain in his hand started to dull, but there were other pains. He started to realise: they’d done this many times before. He couldn’t even count how many. The memories came back, hard and fast. So many horrors, so much pain. Over and over again, yet somehow this tormentor made him forget at the start of each new bout.
“It’s amazing the dark places a mind will go do if given a gentle prod. I’ve met people who’ve been through genuine hardship and pain before. You’ve had a relatively easy life, and yet you’re still able to turn your memories into exquisitely horrible new experiences. It's a shame the body can only take so much, even illusions can kill you with enough shock. That's why we keep having to stop and start again.”
Rulf’s pulse was racing again, his breath quick and shallow. How many more times would he go through this.
“Just tell us what we want to know, all you have to do is tell us and all this will co…”
“Ok,” Rulf whimpered.
“What?”
“I said alright. Please...just...please.”
The tiefling smiled and Rulf saw the devil in that curl of his lips.
"Are you done?" the voice cut through the silence like a knife. There was no emotion behind that voice. The question was asked pleasantly in a sing song tone. The sound of a man asking if the weather had cleared up. Rulf gathered his courage and looked up.
Those yellow eyes were still fixed on him. They were completely devoid of emotion. Rulf's view fixated on the sliver of metal being waved between them. It danced back and forth in his torturer's dexterous hands. Slowly, ever so slowly, it descended towards his shattered hands. So far the torturer had come at him with hammer and flame, but not the knife. His hands were a crumpled mess, every bone cracked. Little whisks of smoke still wafted upwards where they had pulled off his little fingers and burned the stumps.
Rulf had once seen a beggar with hands just like that, he suddenly recalled. Gnarled and twisted and missing digits. He could vividly remember the smell of the back alley, and his disgust as the bony arm reached out towards him from beneath a pile of rags. He hadn't even gone for his bag of coin, he had recoiled from the horrendous sight and hurried on to escape the Eblion docks. Rulf looked down at his own hands, once strong, now horribly maimed and caked in blood. He felt the hot tears on his cheeks and was almost glad of a sensation that wasn’t pain.
He had never known pain could be painted in so many different colours.
"Are you going to tell us what we need to know?"
The question was simple. Rulf tried to pull his hands away as the flat of the knife was rested on the back of his hand. He knew it was useless to pull against the shackles. The blade was ice cold.
Rulf's breathing started to speed up again. The sound of his quick, shallow breaths reverberated around the room. He couldn't quite muster the strength to say 'no'. He shook his head. His eyes were fixated on the knife. He could not turn his gaze away. He just wanted to close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening.
The emotionless gaze changed for a moment. Disappointment and maybe frustration flashed across the torturer's features. The knife tilted upwards, the point pricking his skin. It held there, motionless, for a few seconds.
It pushed down hard, blood welling around it. Ever so slowly it started to move up his arm, leaving a gaping cut behind it. A deep, guttural noise escaped Rulfs's lips involuntarily. Slowly at first, but speeding up, the knife cut one long straight trail. Rulf bit down hard, tasting blood in his mouth. Powerless to stop what was happening, yet desperate for the unbearable pain just to come to an end. The knife quickly sliced a parallel path and a final cut joined the two near his hand. His torturer had a deft touch with the blade. Rulf had never even imagined pain like this before. There was no way to make it stop, it came and it went at another's wish. There was no bearing this pain, no shrugging it off. It was an experience that wouldn't let him go, would not release him from its jagged claws.
The knife - its previously shiny blade now tainted with dark red - was placed on the table to the side. A pair of thin tongs was picked up. Rulf watched with horror as the implement grasped his skin where the three cuts met. He knew what was coming next.
"This will make you realise that what we've done so far was no more than pleasantries. Talk?"
The offer was left there, hanging in the air, for nearly a minute. Eventually, Rulf gave the slightest shake of his head.
Without pause, his torturer yanked hard on the tongs. Hot pain blossomed from his arm to reach across his whole body. The edges of his vision turned black as his eyes rolled back. Rulf hadn't even realised he was screaming until he stopped.
He didn't want to look down, he desperately didn't want to look at what had been done to his body. And yet, as his whole body trembled, he found himself looking down. The whole strip of flesh, an inch wide, had been peeled away to expose the muscle below. Blood welled in the wound, around the blobs of yellow fat that had been left behind.
"Please," he whimpered.
"Time to talk?"
Those green eyes held his gaze again. Emotionless, expressionless. Rulf shook his head. He tried to voice some defiant statement, but he knew his resolve was slipping away. He just wanted the pain to end. It was too much, it was...
The red dark spots encroached on his vision even further and he felt consciousness slipping away from him.
His eyes blinked slowly as his view came back into focus. Rulf slowly came around to find himself still in the small dingy room. His torturer sat opposite him still, but his eyes were shut. It seemed as if he was sleeping, but then those bright yellow eyes snapped open. The scarlet tail appeared above the edge of the table, giving an amused flick. The slender torturer looked him up and down. Always appraising him, those eyes, never giving anything away.
Rulf mustered the courage to look down at his hand. It was fine. The absence of pain was startling, there was just a deep throbbing in the hand. His tired, groggy brain struggled to grasp at understanding.
"It will take a moment for your mind to reorientate itself, it has been through so much," the torturer stated plainly. “Soon you’ll start to recall what we were doing before your ordeal, any just how many times you’ve been through it.”
Rulf shook his head trying to focus. The pain in his hand started to dull, but there were other pains. He started to realise: they’d done this many times before. He couldn’t even count how many. The memories came back, hard and fast. So many horrors, so much pain. Over and over again, yet somehow this tormentor made him forget at the start of each new bout.
“It’s amazing the dark places a mind will go do if given a gentle prod. I’ve met people who’ve been through genuine hardship and pain before. You’ve had a relatively easy life, and yet you’re still able to turn your memories into exquisitely horrible new experiences. It's a shame the body can only take so much, even illusions can kill you with enough shock. That's why we keep having to stop and start again.”
Rulf’s pulse was racing again, his breath quick and shallow. How many more times would he go through this.
“Just tell us what we want to know, all you have to do is tell us and all this will co…”
“Ok,” Rulf whimpered.
“What?”
“I said alright. Please...just...please.”
The tiefling smiled and Rulf saw the devil in that curl of his lips.