I can feel it. The pain of the damned. Oh God. This immense unholy agony is exquisitely unbearable. Alas, even as these damnable flames lick at my flesh, turning the deepest marrow of my skeletal form to ash.
As the rasped whispers and blood cries of my fellow banished souls is being twisted, churned and prodded by the native beasts, causing the scarlet potion to flow freely from my eardrums, seemingly fueling the flames in my harrow. It is still minute to the abominations I endured in the living realm. Though maybe this is deserved? As the many around me, I've committed many atrocities against the good. Perhaps this is a testament to my sins? Perhaps I truly am a fool of the most rotten kind.