Lend me a hand

This hurts! I was thrown in the dungeon again. They, the orcs of these halls, brought me to a big room with high ceilings and it was more or less as dark as the prison; but in another tower wherein I was hidden from the darkest of the sky; to be exposed to practices darker still.

You remembered what I said..., even thought earlier? Was I gonna sucumb to starvation? Did I say that?! So the torture is a fact. Do I think so low and mindless to think like this? Is it just me to think that, despite this form of torture I got, this is far less cruel than any other type?

For Theogorn Heolfling, student of Amarthorn, servant of Andraghil, defender of Rossiels legacy and spearbrother of the red company, no fire to burn like an idolator; neither breaking on the weel is destined for me. I get swift hit, no more, no less. Only one.

It's my wrist that hurts so much. I barely dare to touch it; it hurts! Waterfalls stream in the color I pledged allegiance to. I know, if I don't get assistance quickly, I might well lose my entire bloody arm. The wound will rot and healthy flesh will these moggots affect. Someone must lend me a hand; they chopped off...my hand.

Suddenly I heard noises in the dark. It was no orc for sure, for my jailor wouldn't be so hasty. Whoever it was, he unlocked my cell and I glanced to his face. I was terrified.You?!