The fury

His muscles ached, his back was bleeding.
Yet again the whip licked his ripped flesh.
With a soft squeak he pulled on his chains, frustrated, helpless.
"Work, stupid vermin, work for Naggaroth…"
Slowly the fury grew.

Another day, shackles jingled, the lock closed its beak.
His wounds stung and itched at the same time.
Pleasure and pain finally proving the same.
Red eyes looked at the guard, who smiled and let his whip do the talking.
Slowly the pain became dull and a black place appeared.
"Yes…. yes…. you can…. you can…"
The whip crossed his back again and reality plummeted in.
Although this time the guards stopped only after the body lay motionless.

As he awoke, he was laying on his back, head downwards.
Pain was everywhere, but he learned that this proved something.
He still was alive. He tried to sit up, but this resulted only in falling.
The pains returned, new ones were added.
Then some one with a torch entered.

He saw a great pile, a huge mountain of bones and rotting flesh.
All visible in the mankin's light.
"To the side slave, that piece of vermin is still alive."
A rage filled his hart and he felt no pain as he pulled a sharp bone from his side.
"Taking a nap I see, trying to smuggle yourself out…"
A sleek form passed in front of the slave's torch.
And he knew the whip would arrive, but he didn't care anymore.
The rage spoke soothing words, as the whip bit his neck.

A squeaking sound filled the pit of death.
The pointy eared guard only produced pink coloured bubbles.
The skaven's face was red from elvenblood, his eyes blazed with fury.
He felt a new freedom.
He would free himself and no one could stop him.

The first guard was skewered by a bone, throat bitten out.
The second was eaten alive, only remembered because he supplied a blade.
The third was still laughing while his head bounced around the guardroom.
Alarms were raised, slaves died on the spot.

He could smell the fresh air, soon he would reach an exit.
As he turned the corner, stars became visible through a round opening.
A silluette slowly covered the stars of freedom.
"You foul slave, you dare to go outside.
You worm, for this you will die a thousand deaths and…"
The elf was silenced as the blade entered his brain and the skaven his chest.

There he stood outside, free.
Looking at pale skinned warriors rushing for the entrance.
Not wanting to run, only smiling. The voice kept chanting.
"You can… you can… Old… Claw…"