Flora And Hatiz
A half-blind mother, and a brutish hunter with hair as majestic as a lion–were the associates of Tymaan and the only people he could and did trust with anything and everything. Gathered underneath the village, in a torch-lit basement with files of dungeon-like cells. Trapped throughout that corridor were countless slaves, most of whom were fair elves–all of whom were actively being tortured in front of their children.
Their screams echoing in that corridor just behind their council room fueled their zeal and brought devious smiles to their faces. They loved every moment of it, the warriors raping the men and women in front of their kids, the children being slaughtered for sport and being hung upside down and roasted for the other slaves to eventually give in and eat the sorry children. It was hell on Atlaris, one that would make even the lesser devils blush at the sight of.