"Tip it", Milo said.
An ice old bucket of water was tipped over Michalor, who had been stripped down to nothing but a thin pair of shorts. HE shook his head, letting out staggered breaths as his eyes flickered from one person to the other. He struggled but his hands which had been tied with a thick rope laced with Azz's own mana prevented his from circling correctly.
Milo towered over him alongside Azz and Marcos, both of whom had buckets, Marcos' now emptied.
"You awake", Milo said, his voice taunting and nausea inducing for Michalor.
"You!", Michalor growled, trying to lunge forward from his chair but feeling a sharp pain run through the bottom of hid thighs. "AH! WHAT THE HELL!", he wailed as he lifted one thigh slightly, revealing thousands of small blood needles piercing his skin.
