Oren didn't recognize the shrieks as his brother's until they pulled the leathery sack off his head. His hands and feet were painfully bound. A twisted behemoth dug blackened nails into his scalp and yanked him by his hair, flinging him into the dirt at the edge of a roaring fire. He had a glimpse of giggling meatfiends flaying his brother's torso before his head hit a rock and he blacked out.

He awoke in darkness. He was at the bottom of a deep pit in a slurry of decomposing flesh, lying amidst the corpses of what he assumed were the Dreg's latest victims. The smell was nauseating. High above he could see the night sky through a twisted metal grating that covered the pit, cruelly adorned with barbs, spikes and hooks. Escape was impossible.

Oren and his brother had come to Malgrave seeking treasure, languidly disregarding the Lopp's repeated warnings about the Dreg. Three days after leaving Shinysand Oasis, their caravan had come under attack by Dreg raiders. After slaughtering their animals and burning their supplies, the Dreg had taken the two brothers back to their camp.

On the second night he heard the steel grating open with a rusty scritch, and barely had time to conceal himself under a pile of corpses before a Dreg came down on a rope. Snarling, it stabbed at the pile under which Oren lay, only missing his eye by an inch. Then it grabbed a corpse, tugged the rope twice, and was hauled back up. After hearing the grating close above, Oren crawled out, found a broken bone and spent the rest of the night sharpening it against the rough stone wall of the pit.

On the third day he woke to echoing growls from above, raised in disagreement. Then the grating swung back and the Dreg once again came down on the rope, growling indignantly as it ransacked the corpses. Seeing his chance, Oren stood up from his hiding place. The Dreg turned and uttered a bewildered croak as Oren jabbed the bone spear in his ear. After seizing a wicked looking knife out of the Dreg's dead hand, Oren grabbed the dangling rope and jerked on it twice.

Oren was hauled up over the edge of the pit, squinting against the sunlight. Howls of confusion and anger rung out from all around. A hulking figure rushed him, swinging a bloodstained sword. Oren brought the knife up and stabbed his attacker in the neck, but the sword cut deep into his side. He stumbled to the ground, the blood pooling in the dirt beneath him.

Oren felt the rush of approaching feet and let his eyes shut. There could be nothing worse than what he had already endured. He heard blades shriek free as they surrounded him. Then silence. Opening his eyes, Oren saw hundreds of Dregs kneeling in the dust before him, then looked at the still quivering corpse of the one he'd slain. A Dreglord. And by killing him, Oren had inherited his power. Smiling as he slid into oblivion, he issued his first and final order to his new subjects.

"Into the pit with you all."