Kenny let out a low groan as he lifted his head, which was still throbbing in pain inside and out. His face was swollen, especially around his eyes which would have mattered more if he wasn't sitting in a completely pitch black room.
He was sat on the cold hard ground, his arms either side of him as the ground itself rose up and entombed his hands in earthen shackles to keep him in place. He struggled against them, pulling and twisting in a desperate attempt to free himself, but they were tight around his hands.
As soon as he started to breath, he immediately regretted it. A truly repulsive stench filled the room, as if they were positioned underneath the toilets. The heretics probably used this same space to hold the corpses of their victims, with him being next. No doubt after they had drained him of blood, to steal his blessing from his Divine Greatness.
