Unnamed Journal Volume 3, Issue 1 - Page 33

The Chamber of Pain goodness in sentient peoples, raises their spirits. Trade and wealth and thought advance. Life springs forth. But Life enkindles and requires Death. Trade and Wealth and Thought enkindle Envy and Sloth and Decadence. The cycle turns, and Death enthrones himself. This time, he wears the mantle of Stygius. He has worn many guises. He will wear many more. “And as he does, he will wear himself out. Stygius will pass, as will Avrankes. Eventually Death will create the conditions for it’s opposite, and a new cycle will begin.” Gareth heard the words of the Metavox and something clicked inside of him. He understood. It was time. The Metavox glowed and glowed and grew and grew and finally winked out. * * * Lord Avrankes looked at the corpse brought before him and his tongue clicked in irritation off the dome of his mouth. The Chamber was not supposed to be lethal at this level of activity. A Bindu like Gareth Gunhuld ought to have survived until his will weakened sufficiently to allow Avrankes to seize control of it. The young man had nearly succumbed from the outright. It should have been easy. “Poor execution,” said Avrankes, and through the silence of his DeathGuard servants he knew how his words would reverberate through Arkala 3. If he had said “Poor design”, then blame might have been shifted onto the manufacturers and engineers of the Chamber of Pain, who operated under Avrankes’ command. But “execution” meant operator error. Which meant Avrankes would enjoy finding someone to blame for the Bindu’s early demise. Perhaps then his servants would be better motivated to find him new victims to test the Chamber on, and then these kinks could be worked out. He clicked his tongue again. He always felt cheated at the death of his enemies. There was something so final about it. “Use his body for fuel,” the Imperial Vicar commanded, and turn and strode away, the Litany to Pain muttering unbidden from his lips. UJ