Cold. That’s what I feel when that hand sinks into my chest. Cold. The same type of cold that the thing assaulted me with when it opened its eye. That’s what I’m feeling now. The hand moves around in my chest, it’s looking for something, or at least that’s what I think.

I punch it and watch in amazement as my arm goes sailing through its chest. I try again, and again, nothing. The albino Troll doesn’t even notice and continues fishing for whatever it’s looking for. The hand moving in my chest.

I feel its hand brush against something inside of me, not a body part but something else. Something more important then anything my body has inside of it. I try to attack it again but my mutilated claws just move through its chest without doing any type of damage.

It grabs that thing in my body and… invades it. It doesn’t attack but instead starts to change it. I struggle against it, trying to do anything to get out of its grip but nothing seems to work. A feeling of wrongness grips me tight and refuses to let go. The feeling that if I let this, thing hold me any longer then something horrible will happen.

I struggle but it does nothing. The hand is still in my chest, grasping that important part of me and refusing to let go.

The ghost Troll on top of me--I can tell it is a ghost now-- grins. Then with a final shake, it leaps up and turns toward the monster that had accompanied off the side of the cliff.

That’s all I notice before I’m carried away by something horrible. I feel an intense cold, so cold that it burns. Then I feel my hand twitch, and then my arm, and then my neck, soon enough I’m spasming, blood pouring out of my mouth. I continue like this for a while, just spasming, it reminds me of someone in their death throes except that I’m still alive.

I can feel the blood beating, flowing. I hear a sharp crack and notice that my body is starting to repair itself. Bones snap back together and I can actually breathe. Whatever that ghost did it seemed to have helped as much as it hurt me.

Squiggles flow across my vision.

[You have been |Claimed| as a dungeon creature by the of the Cavern of the Fallen Spirits]

What do these mean? I growl in frustration and rage. Why is this happening? What did that ghost do to me?

[As a |Claimed| being you cannot leave your Lords domain. Your Lord can call on you to protect and serve. In return, your Lord provides protection and shelter, as well as other benefits.]

Once again my vision is covered and I swipe the squiggles away, then look around me, trying to get my bearings and see if there are any threats.

I look around and darkness presses down on me, my dark vision barely does anything to help. What I do see though are hundreds of see-through shapes moving through the room, I stop moving and stay still, hopefully, they won’t notice me.

I continue looking, slowly moving my head to the side and freeze again.

The ghost is back and he’s sitting on the Eye creature, that’s what I’ll call it I decide, Eye. After the eye it used to paralyse me.

The thing is struggling but it’s just as injured as I was and is barely putting up a fight, I keep on watching as the ghost does around the same thing with Eye as it did to me--invade it.

Eye screams, and it starts to convulse and spasm.

I see an opportunity though. Eye being injured and spasming as it was, gave me a perfect chance to make a slave, a minion, a pet.

All I have to do is make sure that Eye stays injured enough not to fight me but healed enough to stay alive. A careful balance, but one that I can accomplish.

A part of me screams to kill it, to end a potential enemy, but another, smarter part of me knows what a useful slave can do, the Pits taught me that much. The Warlords Chosen were as loyal as a Troll could get, one of the reasons why the Warlord never died.

Thinking about the Warlord makes me wonder what is happening down there, there in the Pits, where the rest of my kin are.

The groans of Eye bring my thoughts back to the present situation. I look at the creature and prepare to tame it. I squat down next to the convulsing creature and wait. After a while, the spasms start to fade and the screams lessen in intensity. It is also around this time that the creature notices me next to it. It freezes, and its screams of pain turn into suppressed whimpers.

I grin, this is right where I want it. This is how Troll whelps are broken and moved into society. Acknowledging who is master and knowing that they are insignificant in the eyes of all others, knowing that they could be killed at any Trolls whim.

This, of course, doesn’t break them properly, plenty of Troll whelps are born with dreams. Dreams that must be crushed, of course, crushed with a fist and a barbed whip.

I will do the same with Eye. I will break it, and make it mine.

I don’t start yet though and instead just look at it, trying to find its weak spots, where my blows will hurt the most and where they will do nothing, where I can break and where I can bruise.

It looks vaguely wormlike, except huge, not quite as big as me but close. Just a little bit above chest level. It has arms though, six of them, and a tail as well. I thought at first that it only had five, it is just that two of the arms look like stubs, the other four though are as thick as my legs, then its tail… it looks a bit out of place like it should just be a continuation of its main body.

Except that it's not, instead, it just looks a bit out of place. Is my pet disabled? I grunt and smash my fist into its snout, ignoring its whimper. What it does do though is bring me to the last and most interesting part of its body.

Its head is just a rectangular continuation of its main body, hosting a huge jaw full of serrated teeth and a snout right above that. What really interests me though is its one eye. A single protrusion in an otherwise smooth body, not a big weakness seeing as its only a little bit above, but a weakness all the same.

The eye it hosts though is anything but. It’s covered right now, but that doesn’t stop me from noticing that it only has one. The thing that covers the eye is scaled like the rest of it and looks like it could take a beating.

Still a weakness though. I take the time to inspect the rest of its body and find that it has nothing not covered in scales, except its snout which is the only weakness that I can see. The underbelly scales look weaker, another thing that I note and file away.

With my inspection, I prepare to beat it. Now is the best time to do it, seeing as it is stronger then me usually I need to do it now while it is still weakened.

The thing is just breathing at the moment, trying to recover. I grin, stand up, and smash my foot into its snout and roar, “You are mine!” It groans weakly and tries to roll over but I grab it and pin it down then I attack it more savagely.

I scratch its snout and savour the soft squishiness of its only weakness, then punch its snout, then kick it. All in the same place of course, “You are mine! You will do as I say!” I growl at it, and it roars, then tries to bite me.

I grin, this is what I was waiting for. The resistance. The sweetest part of breaking a whelp, a slave, or a pet.

I smash my foot into its teeth and watch in satisfaction as some of them break, then I do it again, and again. Each time more and more of its teeth shatter. “YOU ARE MINE!” I roar with each blow.

This is… beautiful. The act of breaking something is beautiful, the feeling as the teeth shatter… the feeling of power. The feeling of being better. Knowing that I am better. That I control the fate of the thing underneath my foot.

Its cries of pain prove me right, those would turn to cries adoration, of… I stop and just savour it. This is what I need. The feeling of power, knowing that I am a Troll. Knowing that nothing would stop me.

Knowing that I am better.

I would impose my |Will| on this creature and then impose my |Will| on the world.

…..

[Subject #11849357 integration is almost complete. Its Vice is evolving, possible mental collapse, cruelty reaching race average. Ambition surpassing average.]

[Conclusion--Continue to integrate and monitor the subject.]