Role

Chapter 4

Kareloths moustache was most frequently extactic. Attached to it's owner it was often
travelling at high speeds back and forth across Thera, gusts of winds sweeping through
it as the now Dread Lord was about searching for one thing or another. Sometimes it
got bloody which was another aspect of great entertainment as it ment it looked a
different color and the renewal was also something to enjoy at its fullest.

It had tried to speak with the nose hairs of Kareloth to share its excitement about a
recent dive down into the waves of the aryth ocean, but it was sadly met with silence.
This was however no great trouble for the moustache for it had already shifted it's
focus on the near infinite satisfaction it gained whenever Kareloth was absentmindedly
stroking it.

Meanwhile in Hell:
A travelling carnival had set up it's tent poles in the fourth circle where two devils
were enjoying elven blood in spiked iron cups as they were watching a band of skinless
gnomes miserably try to perform some sort of comedy sketch with a watchful devil behind
ready with a barbed whip.

Rumartich the drinker of tears and self appointed Lord of Regret was thrilled to have
something else than tears and were enjoying every sip of the elven blood. He directed
One of his four snake eyes and spoke to his colleague, Ilitus the extractor of broken
hearts and enjoyer of twisting toenails.

"OUR PROJECT FINALLY BECAME DREAD LORD. HAH. I WONDER WHAT IF THEY UNDERSTAND DREAD
IF THEY APPOINT HIM TO THIS. HOW MANY TIMES HAS HE BEEN A BLOODOATH NOW? THREE?"

Ilitus leaned on a cane made out of a still living fire giant fleshcrafted into a
cane with spikes driven into it. The cane was moaning in pain but neither the devils
noticed.

"STILL, WE GOT TO TEACH HIM THE FLAMES. NOT THAT IT DOES HIM MUCH WITH THE MARAN
ABOUT."

Rumartich sipped elven blood from his iron cup with more pleasure than was allowed by
anyone in hell save for those in the second circle who frankly seemed to be having
all the fun. In front of them the gnomes made jokes about their demonic tormentors.
It was not well received and soon they were pleading for mercy as the barbed whip
lashed over their skinless flesh.

"WHEN WILL HE BECOME OURS I WONDER. MORE POTENT THAN HIS FATHER. I LOOK FORWARD TO
... MEETING HIM."

At the mention of the Father both glanced at the cane made of the still living fire
giant.

In the mind of Kareloth:
Finally, Dread Lord! The Throne closer now. What had the Emperor now said? Delve,
he should Delve. Kareloth wasn't entirely sure what it ment. Maybe unravel dark
secrets, but why would he share that with the others? Still, he agreed
wholeheartedly silencing his doubts.

Running past araile was an almost pain free exercise now. So many years had passed
since he spent time with those weaklings. Only good thing they did was give him
a name. Sandborn.