A long time ago, before the wars of old, a dark and dangerous demon in waiting. He was waiting to be called on by his master. He had a job to do but it wasn't yet home. He waited in this dark and dismal dungen wanting nothing more than to be set free. All you hear walking pass the door to his room is a tapping on the wall and him saying "let me out". Gentle laughter echoes from the cracked stone. Insanity is setting in so slowly it's more agony than not. It feels like days are passing by slower and showered he sits in this dark room, begging to be let out. Dimly lit candles are the only light source. The fire dances off of his body. Scars marr almost every visible inch of flesh. There are to many to count and no reason to every count them. As he rubs the ache from his last scare that he has received from his last job, the memories being to slowly come back he paces back and forth from one end to the other just thinking on the fun he had. Causing pain has always bring him peace and happiness. Living in hell under control of the devil gives very few options for fun. Finding happiness in this desolate damned hole, was a rare thing to find. No, he isn't happy but he's content doing the dirty sock. The screams are like music to his ears. With each scream is like a note from his bass. He sits there playing it while each scream comes through the cracked stone and creeps and echos through out the room. He sits there writing his own tune for each scream that he hears. It makes him wonder why they are screaming like that and sometimes it doesn't. He just sits there in the dark room playing away and writing down what notes he played.
