“I’ve told you all I know…Please…no more…WAIT! STOP! PLEASE!” The screams emerging from the other side of the thick iron doors echoed down the dark stone hallways. Ricocheting off the walls and filling every corridor in the damp, murky, and dreadful prison; the cries of the tortured prisoner caused others in their cells to crawl into the corner, making themselves as small as possible, as if to disappear into the shadows. Yet their reactions to the screams and torture of others was nothing compared to what inadvertently happened as Lysias appeared, his footfalls as he proceeded down the stairwell familiar to all present.

Whenever the prisoners laid eyes upon the wiry hook-nosed man, his jet-black hair laying upon his shoulders, their bodies appeared to break out in cold sweat, shivering uncontrollably. For his part Lysias seemed to revel in it, the smile upon his face stretching from ear to ear, his eyes opening slightly, glancing at random prisoners as if gazing at a tray of choice meats.

This place known as the ‘Black Rock’ was Lysias’s own garden, a bleak and unforgiving place, isolated from the rest of the city. Located on an island off the coast of Myrmien, more a large rocky outcropping emerging from the sea than an actual island. The area surrounding Black Rock was rife with underwater reefs, making sailing to the rocky island extremely dangerous for those unaware of the correct pathways.

Black Rock was aptly named, as the prison was a veritable fortress built directly into the island itself. Rather than a structure, it was a sequence of rooms, underground cells, laboratories, and torture chambers carved out of the existing stone, with the obsidian color of the rock giving the facility its name. However, as time has passed, especially since Xeander gained control of Myrmien, Black Rock has earned a reputation as a den of unholy experiments, with many speculating that the city lord’s many enemies have been fed into its bottomless maw.

Officially the prison acts as a fortress in times of war, guarding the approach to the harbor from the north. As well as a prison for heinous criminals from the lower strata of society, slaves, foreigners, and the destitute. Yet even still all have heard rumors regarding the city lord’s shadow, the steward Lysias. A foreigner who had risen through the ranks, all those above him fatally injured from all manner of unexplained accidents. Others spoke of an emissary of the underworld, clad in human skin, feasting upon the souls of the unfortunate who fall within his grasp. The only similarity in every rumor was the danger the man possessed, that one should avert their eyes and never question his words, lest they end up with their throat slit or worse.

The reality was truly a little bit of everything, Black Rock was a specially designed playground for the man, but also for his prized treasure. A pupil, one that much blood and sweat was spent in raising, the perfect base form, with exceptional physical qualities, tweaked into the ideal hunting dog for the man’s needs.

Brutality and simplicity incarnate, Lysias’s pupil did not enjoy leaving his underground home, preferring to spend his days below ground torturing the poor unfortunate souls offered into his hands. Some who he had brought himself, the other prisoners knew those were his, as he would take special care to extend their life for as long as possible, extracting as much pleasure from their pain as he could. All within knew him as their eternal warden, their nightmare, and most importantly, their ‘Butcher’.

Menos the Butcher was originally a boy like any other, poor, hungry, and struggling to survive. The one advantage he possessed was a natural instinct to survive, and the brutality of a starving wolf. Lysias came across the boy one day, in an alley as the child bashed another's skull in with a rock, all over a moldy piece of half-eaten bread. In that child Lysias saw not just a strong will to survive, but the savage brutality, and sadistic tendencies to survive and thrive in such a world. Thus, was born Menos the Butcher, bane of Black Rock, and carver of flesh.

“Menos, have you managed to extract any information from these Branded rats? Did any of them manage to connect that slow-witted Bull to the Scholar’s escape?” Lysias showed no reaction to the putrid stench wafting within the blood-soaked room. Neither the pile of rotting corpses, human shit, nor the sulfurous fumes appeared to affect him in the slightest.

“No…. All same… Turf war… No Scholar.” Menos spoke with a lilted stutter, his words slow and strained, unable to form complete sentences. Some effects may have been because of the drugs used in his ‘construction’, but in the end his purpose was as that of a bloodhound, fit only for a singular purpose, and absolute loyalty.

“Please… I beg you… I’ll tell you everything I know…” When Lysias had entered the torture room Menos had halted his actions, sparing the unfortunate soul shackled to the large wooden rack. At this point his body was stretched slightly beyond its normal proportions, thick chains were pulled tight over the device, a turn of the wooden wheel would tighten them further and by extension the man’s limbs.

“Okay, I will give you one chance then. Tell me what information you have about the Scholar, about his association with your boss Tariq. Then I might think of letting you out of here. So, what do you have to say?” Lysias stared directly at the prisoner, his face mere inches from the man’s tear stained one, a wide mocking smile painted upon his face.

“I… I… I… Don’t know… it was a turf war, that’s all they told me! I wasn’t even there for the fight, the other clans hired me after the ‘Sabre’ attack. I work for the others-” Unable or unwilling to listen to anymore Lysias cut the man off, stuffing a dirty blood-soaked rag down his throat. “Then I guess that means I have no use for you…but don’t worry we will put your body and soul to good use.” The man’s muffled screams fell upon deaf ears, no, the smile upon Lysias’s lips appeared to insist that he was thoroughly enjoying the situation.

“Go ahead and finish your work Menos, details of the job can wait until after you deal with the small fry.” Menos stretched out his limbs, slowly cracking his joints and taking pleasure within the fear filled eyes of his prisoner. There was no longer a need to gather information, instead he could act as he pleased, playing with his ‘toy’. There were only two ways out of such a situation, either the subject broke, or the ‘Butcher’ became bored, in either case pain and agony was to be expected.

Once again Menos restarted his work, this time very slowly turning the wheel, watching in childlike fascination as the man’s limbs further stretched and deformed under the pressure. The muted torturer taking pleasure in his work, drawing out every muffled scream before moving over to a table strewn with an assortment of tools. From that he took a pair of grisly pincers, then taking firm hold of the prisoner’s toe, very slowly he pulled.

These screams were louder than anything that came before, the rag only helping to barely muffle the mangled cries. The Butcher took his time, spending around a minute to pull away, a bloody toenail held tight within the mouth of the tool. Exhausted, broken, and barely conscious the man appeared to deflate, his destroyed body hanging loose, grateful for the moment of reprieve. Menos paced over to a nearby table placing the blood covered nail in a wooden bowl atop a pile of similar items of varying sizes and shapes.

Leaving Menos to his games for a moment, Lysias directed his attention to another area of the chamber, namely the walls and the altar hidden behind. Etched into the stone were barely noticeable hieroglyphs, which in turn merged with the geometric shapes positioned in each corner of the chamber. A keen eye would notice the way the shadows within the room appeared to drift toward these strange shapes, the light from the fireplace obscuring the thin purple haze barely perceptible within.

“Menos for now there will be no more work for you here.” To the relief of the prisoner Menos’s hands stopped their work. His full attention shifting instead to the man to his rear. “More task… Big prey… Big clan!” Like a child who had been promised a new gift, Menos jumped up in glee, wondering what kind of new games he would get to play.

“Yes, a very big task, and a very big prey. The Scholar himself, the war hero, and his bodyguards. Luckily, for us he is in a small group, away from his main base. Now is the only chance to strike and we cannot allow such an opportunity to pass us by. But make sure you capture the Scholar himself, along with his Amazon, and Xeander’s prized arena champion… Feel free to kill the rest or allow the men to do with them as they please. Just make sure you bring the Scholar to me first… Understood?” Menos simply nodded his head silently in agreement. His eyes darting to the prisoner and then back to Lysias, a look that did not escape Lysias’s notice. “Yes, sure you may capture some of the enemy to bring back here. Consider it a gift, just make sure the job gets done.” Like a big mangy and terrifying puppy, Menos jumped around in joy, dancing around the chamber in excitement.

The operations report itself would contain all the necessary details that their observers had managed to gather in the time allotted. It was not much, but it was enough to at least be able to tell what the enemy looked like, how large were their numbers, and how many appeared to be guards. If they could organize the troops and the bare minimum of supplies needed the pursuit could be on its way by the next day, or the day after.

“Menos, let the cavalry commander lead, your focus is to keep the chaff moving. The force you will be accompanying is unimportant, it doesn’t matter how many die they are easily replaced, just make sure they keep moving forward. Kill anyone who disobeys or flees.” Lysias then removed a pouch from his waist, rolling out the contents upon his palm. It appeared to be a medicinal pill of some kind, a round purple ball around the width and length of a fingernail. The second Menos’s eyes landed upon it his mouth began to water, eyes begging for the pill, and an atmosphere that seemed to scream that they would kill to get it. “A gift from the Master’s, to help you in your task… Enjoy.”

Menos did not hesitate for even a second, snatching the pill from Lysias’s palm and immediately swallowing it in one go. Upon consuming the fragrant medicine his eyes began to flare with a slight hint of purple, while his muscles tensed as black lines could be seen crawling up and around the veins. The man’s monstrous stature only seemed to swell, as he grew ever so slightly, his clothing stretching in an attempt to contain the added bulk.

“Thank you… Master… Treat… Tasty… Strong.” Lysias patted the slow-witted creature upon the head, with Menos having to crouch slightly so that he could reach the mangy unkempt mop. With his task complete, Lysias had one additional report to make before preparing the organization of the pursuit force, leaving Menos to deal with the rest of his toys.

Shortly after his departure as the thick iron doors shut behind him the screams began anew. This time they were more piercing than the last, the other prisoners locked within their cells trembling in fear. Now that play time was about to end and Menos would be away for some time he had to quickly finish up with the current toys. The unfortunate residents of the place would be forced to endure the full extent of his bloody perversions, kept alive for as long as possible. The last always had it the worst, enduring the longest sessions and the most excruciating tortures.