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"A day locked up liked that should teach you a lesson. I'll beat the hell out of you again if you make as much as a squeak!" Those were the last words Sarlog the slaver bellowed at Shelly before slamming the cell door shut and storming away. Sarlog was far from finished venting his frustration against the prisoner when something else demanded his immediate attention- probably to check up on his hopelessly incompetent henchmen. He sincerely hoped that they all managed to somehow kill themselves from sheer stupidity so he could claim his insurance already; that would be the best day in his entire career. The slaver made extra precautions to ensure that Shelly will not get a third chance. A well-crafted restraining device locked Shelly into a tightly constricted position, forcing him in a sitting position with his head swung down, knees compressed against his stomach, and elbows folded along the sides. Shelly found himself unable to move even an inch, and the gag reduced his inflamed protests to stressful grunts. The fact that he could not even enjoy the already meager amount of space his cell offered was an insult to injury. Shelly cursed himself for trying to fight back against Salrog when he could have stayed out of sight and remained ahead. But this particular slaver was an efficient tracker and none of Shelly's attempts at covering his tracks worked at all. Despite his gravely exhausted condition, Shelly thought he could catch Salrog off-guard and take him down before he could get any closer. Almost as if he could read Shelly's every move, Salrog feigned vulnerability in anticipation and effortlessly countered Shelly's ambush, subduing the already weak escapee. Salrog revealed himself as the brother of the slaver Shelly gave concussion to, and vowed to return the favor once he dragged Shelly back to the camp. And true to his word, Salrog dispensed ruthless punishment against his victim, suspending Shelly on a sturdy post and repeatedly striking him with an electric baton which sent an excruciating shock on top of the heavy physical blow. No other slavers dared to approach Salrog in his frenzied state, and Shelly was forced endure the agony until the baton itself shattered from the stress. Even then Salrog refused to stop, using his own fists to continue the torture until he had spent every last bit of his strength. Shelly unfortunately remained conscious throughout the entire ordeal, and much to Salrog's amazement suffered no internal injuries despite receiving enough trauma to cause severe bone fractures and internal bleeding, if not outright kill a person his size. But Salrog's astonishment at Shelly's inhumane durability quickly turned into excitement, realizing that he could keep the torture going on for a very, very long time. Back in the cell, Shelly tried his best to ignore the enormous strain coming from his body, as if thousands of hot irons were constantly pressing against every part of his body. He would try to shift himself around every so often, only to remember the rigid shackles holding him firmly in place. There was absolutely nothing he could do to relieve the unbearable amount of stress and he knew he was not going to be released from the device anytime soon. He blew his only real chance of escape, and he no longer had strength to resist any further. Maybe it was all futile, and he could have been caught one way or another regardless of effort. Nothing had worked in his favor- and who knew if fortune will make any difference at this point? He just did not know anymore. |
![Hideout Stowaway [Sketch]](https://va.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/747/747739_BlueCactus_fahn_cap01_wip01_noncustom.jpg "Hideout Stowaway [Sketch]")
