The man hung against the wooden wall, his body a broken and bleeding . His knees sagged, one twisted grotesquely, the shattered bone jutting unnaturally beneath his skin. Blood dripped steadily from his arms, pooling at his feet, staining the coarse wooden rags clinging to his battered frame. His hands were nailed to the rough surface above his head, the pirates making sure he could not move .
Around him, a pair of tormentors wielded stout sticks, delivering rhythmic blows to his ribs and thighs. Each strike forced a desperate, anguished cry from the man's lips, his pleas echoing in the confined space as wood met meat and bone
"Mercy, please, in the name of the gods!" he begged, his voice raw with desperation appealing to a force that had no power now.
Wearing chainmail and a helmet , the man he was talking to leaned casually on the hilt of his sword. His name was Korran,and right now he was losing his patience.He came here for silver not to be preached at.
