21st Century Rogue
The mirky walls of hallowed granite harbor horrors of untold essence. The walls slick with human slime, left there since the dawn of time, seem only to mock his unwilled presence. The ropes of wrath which bind him, in mins, body, and soul throughout, are laced with the young blood of his kin. Alas from those terrors 'bout to begin - there is no escape - no possible way out. The sewer rats and roaches gnaw hungerily at the blood soaked binds at his throat.