In the deepest, darkest reaches of Thomas’ castle, a dark-eyed, once-pristine tavernkeeper in tattered, ragged pants and a bare chest crouched down low along the warm brick wall. Following closely behind him, a small, fat man in a still-humid, black, skin-tight suit struggled to keep up with him. His bulbous cheeks glistened with sweat as he huffed and puffed after his relatively lax companion and voiced another whispered protest: “K-Kessie... we really shudn’t be sneakin around here. Dey too nice for dis.”

Kester turned over his shoulder to shine a disapproving, raised eyebrow towards his companion and said: “Berral... my wife tossed me out. She’s back in Pilta with my last living kin- who’s deathly afraid of me, by the way. To replace them, I’ve got you lot... Gods, I’ve been listening to that gloomy fuck for days now. I just want a drink of wine- is that too much to ask?” Barrel’s red cheeks lived a life of their own as he shook his head in jerks. Kester leaned against the warm, black bricks and lay his hand on the nearby door’s handle to slowly work the well-oiled mechanism open.

“But we cud just ask dem, Kessie! Dey’re nice people, we dun’t need to steal!” Kester shivered- as much with the cold as with the discomfort of imagining who would inevitably find out, should he ask his hosts for wine.

“They already think I’m insane, Barrel! I don’t need him talking to me like I’m some consumptive wretch! Besides... they’ll give us the cheap shit if we ask. This is where we’ll find the good stuff- I can smell it.” Barrel’s eyes glistened in the dim light of the white, crystalline torches along the walls. As soon as the door’s crack grew wide enough to fit Kester’s sturdy nose, he took a deep whiff to drive his point home, only to immediately grow pale and retch.

“What the fuck-” He spoke- gripping his nose and retching once more. Barrel did not need ask- he could smell it for himself, the stench exuding from the room. The air tasted of metallic decay, feces and an unmistakable, fungal taint. Kester wiped his tears of discomfort and grunted, before rising up to peer back into the darkness beyond the door.

“What, are they fermenting cheese in here or-” Kester fell silent. His eyelids narrowed apathetically and his smile faded to its usual, blank state.

“Kessie... you gots that look again. I told you, is scary.” Kester glanced either side down the hall and verified that they were alone before he snuck inside- closely followed by his nervous friend. In the darkness, neither could see their hands in front of them, but as they wandered into the umbral depths of the reeking chamber, the torches along the walls came alive with a white, twinkling glow.

The cellar room had the same, dark bricks for walls, ceiling and floors- all pristinely dusted and shifting ever-so-slightly to Kester’s steadying touch. Along the right wall, a table displayed a number of bloody tools. Prongs, tweezers, knives, hooks- all construed from a metal similar to the one from which Neda’s gifted knife was made. Neither looked to the bloody table- instead, they both looked to the still shapes kneeling on the floor.

Kester had seen much since the closing of Pilta’s walls. Cannibalism, rape, torture- even the occasional combination. But he had never seen anything as gruesome as the sight that awaited him inside the silent chamber.

Six robed men and women sat on their knees, bound by heavy chains cast into the bricks of the floor. Old, caked blood had dried on their faces and stained their robes a pink red, but none made a sound- even as Kester crouched down to study one of the bound women.

Her head had been shaven- roughly, by the look of the multitude of scrapes, scars and scabs on her scalp. More pressingly, the rivers of dried blood that had run down her cheeks, combined with the inversion of her eyelids, hinted that something had happened to her bulbs. Likewise, the vomit and blood on her robe spoke of a similar violation in her mouth. He leaned to either side and verified that even her ears had not escaped her cruel treatment unscathed.

The other five were in the same, ruined condition- all silenced by dismembered tongues, deafened by piercing injuries to their ear drums and blinded by the evisceration of their bulbs. Barrel had noticed that the floor had curious markings molded into the bricks- indentations that formed a large, wide circle, atop which, the six Purged sat completely still and silent.

“The fuck happened to you?” Kester asked. He reached out and opened the eyelids of the woman ahead of him, only to see that her orbit was mostly empty- save from muscle and collapsed tissues. Uncaring for his touch, she turned to look at him and grin her blood-soaked, dry teeth and giggle a haunting laughter. Even in this state- she would laugh? What monstrosity could do such a thing?

Barrel yelped as she opened her mouth to reveal a thick bundle of a severed tongue- whiteishly discolored at its premature apex and flapping with her resounding, bellowing laughter. Though not a one of them could possibly hear the laugh, the other shapes seemed infected by her madness- all of whom broke out into loud laughter soon thereafter.

Barrel shuddered- as much with fright at Kester’s lack of reaction as with the roaring laugh of the living dead chained to the floor. Barrel reached for his companion, but in the darkness of the chamber missed with a wide berth- instead stuffing his fingers into the woman’s right orbit. In a jerk of her head, she bit down on his sleeve and dragged him over.

Kester stared wide-eyed as Barrel squealed like an impaled pig. The woman quickly wriggled about in her chains to pin the small, fat man down by his shoulders by seating herself atop his neck. Still in her maniacal fit of giggling, she bit down on the stumps of her tongue to produce streams of blood from her cracked lips. Barrel continued to squeal as she calmly leaned over and unleashed a flood of reeking, metallic blood from between her lips- showering the terror-stricken Barrel between her legs with her ichors.

Kester had long-since joined the madmen in sounding his bemusement, laughing throatily as he watched his panicked companion squirming in the trickle of blood. “Kessie! Helph!” Her shrieked- slapping his bald head in between her naked, well-lubricated, bloody thighs. Kester finally took pity on his companion and strode behind the woman to grab her by her throat- closing his elbow around her throat. Even in the absence of breath, he could feel her diaphragm spasm in laughter as he raised the madwoman off of his horrified associate.

Barrel slipped on the slick blood several times as he struggled to get back onto his feet. Kester and the crazed Purged both watched him with a shared glee- even as the tavernkeeper choked the life from the wretched beast by the power of his strong arm.