It was the screams that woke her up. At first, Winifred was convinced they were merely part of her nightmares, or perhaps thoughts just floating around her head but never quite solidifying. Almost as if it were another illusion. But, as they repeated, time and time again, Winifred realized that she recognized the voice.

With a jolt, she awoke, just in time to hear another one of the bone-shaking cries pierce the air. Cracking open her eyelids, which felt gummed together with dried blood, she took what she hoped was a subtle look at her surroundings. Drab, cobblestone walls, bereft of anything to indicate ownership. Blood-soaked stone flag tiles, with a fresh stream of blood flowing across them. Her hands were tied to a chair with coarse, taut rope.

Worse yet, all her gear was missing, including her new brass knuckles. The bastard had taken everything she had on her. To her left, Skrakch and Meekknuckle were strapped into their own metal chairs, stripped of their own gear as well. Neither of them were conscious. They looked like grim caricatures of royalty on a throne. Or perhaps guests at a dinner party, waiting to be served. The fact that they were out of it was probably for the best.

The Ratling was fond of Zach, no matter how he might protest. And, judging from those pain-filled cries, the Halfling wasn’t doing well. Steeling her resolve, she glanced quickly forward, her blood freezing in her veins at the sight. Directly in the center of the room, she could see Sykes grinning like a madman with blood splattered across his face. The Elf was holding a hooked knife, the blade heated with Mana, and was slowly sliding it across his ‘patient’s’ face. The chair Zach was strapped to was tilted, giving the torturer access to any part of his captor’s body that he may wish to use.

Each movement of Sykes magical blade elicited a new groan of pain. Winifred forced herself to look. Numerous cuts crisscrossed the Halfling’s face, blood and pus covering his visage completely. Each flick of the knife parted his flesh. Winifred could tell that the poor bastard was doing his best not to react but the pain and fear were clearly too much.

“Maybe it’s not him,” She muttered quietly to herself. “Maybe…maybe it’s another Halfling…some other poor wee sod…” She shook her head and, if it were safe to do so, she would’ve laughed at herself for such a foolish notion. “Aye and I’m nae strapped to a chair in the madman’s home,” She whispered, admonishing herself.

She gently tried to free her wrist, but the rope refused to budge under her efforts. Her legs were the same, expertly restrained. Still, she was working with borrowed time and there would be no time for holding back. Twisting her left wrist under her thumb was flush against the metal, she began to bend it back as much as she could. Pain flared, but just as Blackmaul had taught her, she ignored it.

She’d suffered plenty worse in many a pitfight and lived to moan about it later and she would do it again. With a pop that was half sickening, half oddly satisfying, the tension went out of her thumb, the bone popping loose from the joint. Thankfully, this allowed her to wriggle her wrist free.

Winifred stopped for a moment when she noticed the movement in front of her. She froze as Sykes took a moment to toss a wet chunk of flesh her way. It slapped against the tile, mere inches away from her calves. She fought against the urge to vomit.

“C’mon Zacharias! You wanted to talk did you not?” Sykes asked in a mocking tone. “It hasn’t been that long since we started and you’re already running on fumes? The trick to being a good torture victim is to engage, did you not know that?”

Sykes paused for a moment, raising up and grabbing a nearby rag to wipe the magical blade clean. It gleamed with heat.

“Oh, now you can scream as much as you need to. But in the downtime, I find it’s much more entertaining for you to yell, bargain, plead, anything really. It lets you focus on something other than the pain you see…” Sykes continued, chuckling as he leaned back over Zach. Winifred could see the Halfling being grabbed by his left ear as the Elf drew the heated blade across his nose.

As Zach began screaming anew, Winifred was quick to return to her own struggles. With a freed hand, it was a simple matter of undoing the knots binding her other wrist to the chair. Well, she internally scoffed, that was easier said than done. Whoever had tied the bloody knots was an expert. She fiddled with it as much as she dared, but no matter what she tried, the knot just wouldn’t give.

So she did what any well-trained fighter would do, she bent back her right thumb as well. She stifled a grunt, biting down on her tongue as she felt the bone break. Another quick tug and her right hand was free with Sykes' left none the wiser.

From there, it was easy enough to pull her feet loose from the rope holding her to the metal chair and take stock of her options. She could attack Sykes with her bare hands, an admittedly risky option. She could attempt to bolt for the door, but the Gods Below knows how many goons were watching that entrance.

Or she could free Skrakch, and see if he had anything to contribute. Winifred had a decent handle on the Ratling’s spell list, and unless he’d learned something in the past few minutes, it wasn’t likely to help.

So really, she had only one decent option. Swallowing a burst of fear, she forced her hands into fists, ignoring the pain that flared out from her thumbs. Bracing herself, she waited until Sykes began slicing into Zacharias’ face once more, figuring a distracted mage could only help her odds.

Flowing forward, she managed a single aggressive step forward... before something smashed into her side with enough power to crush the air out of her chest. Flying across the room, she crumpled bonelessly as she hit one of the walls, dropping in a heap.

“Honestly Winifred, did you take me for a fool?” Sykes called out, humming as his blade flickered across the Halfling’s face, a fresh spurt of blood landing in his beard. “I had my new assistant instructed to watch you all, and if you tried to attack me…” Sykes trailed off, turning to walk over to her. “Well, I’m sure you figured that out.”

The crime boss chuckled as he calmly stepped over and grabbed a fistful of Winifred’s brown hair. Lifting her chin, he angled her face so she could see her attacker. Standing behind her chair was Ornn, the golem face as impassive as always as he stood rooted to the spot.

Groaning as her conscience faded in and out, Winifred stubbornly threw a look of contempt at Sykes. “Fuck you, you piece of deranged filth. Once I’m free, I’m going to beat you to death with my bare hands.”

Laughing as he dropped her, Sykes waved offhandedly towards his newest minion. “Ornn, hold this one. Keep her arms spread, and she can watch the show. Don’t you worry, Winnie. Once I’m done with Zach, I’ll have plenty of time for you.”