In the Underdark, in the city of Menzoberrazan, it was a normal day; for all but house Vraen’lic. All the members of the house were in the prison of Quenthico’sun. There were only six members at the time; the mother, three daughters, a father, and two sons. They were all hung from the ceiling with spider silk that dug into the flesh of their wrists leaving little cuts that oozed blood. It seemed as if they had been there for days, but it was probably just the pain, drawing out the time they had really been there. They had been under many tortures; a more painful one was one that was a test. There was very thin string, strong, but thin, it would be stretched to the max, and then pushed into the backs of the person, sometimes using a sawing technique. It was extremely painful, because sometimes the string would fray, and it would grind the inner flesh of the wounds. Oh well, the mother thought, At least we’ll be dead soon. As if on queue, Quenthico’sun walked into the rooms followed by two bulky men.
“How adorable, a family reunion, oh, wait, you’re missing one; your son Ranoth,” Quenthico’sun teased the family.
“He is no longer one of us, he is a disgrace!” the mother yelled.
“And for assisting in the-releasing let us say-of a slave you must die,” Quenthico’sun said calmly.
“But we had nothing to do with that!” the mother yelled in denial.
“Oh, but you had much to do with it; you raised him,” Quenthico’sun pointed out cruelly, “Draw and quarter them all.” Quenthico’sun said to the torturers, and then walked out of the large wooden doors reinforced with adamantine and carved with spider webs…