A menacing aura radiates from the depths of your plated suit, following the second item you were foolishly liberating from it’s prison deep within. Its dull yellow surface, light dully reflecting from each of it’s longitudinal hexagonal faces, radiates with the pure, unfiltered madness and anguish of it’s mere existence, the tormented screams of the damned audible if one were to listen closely enough. The tips of the long instrument of torment were each custom-tooled for both aspects of its inhumane purpose of being. The first, sharpened to a needle’s point, the long-dead cellulose of its formerly living constituent body giving way to and ultimately ending in the soft, coal-like substance cored within, the foul material better suited to the hellscape of a blast furnace than as part of the Hadean tool. The other end holds the only component that has any semblance of being natural: a crown of natural rubber, mounted like the gemstone of a sceptre to the top and mated to the horrific body of the instrument by the cruel barbs of the shiny, reflective metal ring clamped into place, the sleek exterior of the binding masking the torment it inflicted underneath in order to maintain the abominable connection. And just below the ring, as if the horror of the instrument’s mere existence were not complete, sat the blackened scar of the brand pressed into one of the faces of the implement’s yellow body, the two characters seared into the unliving flesh displaying it’s cold, calculated identifier from now until it’s final, tormented days.