Krark-Clan Ironworks: Broken Like My G.I. Joe

You are covered head-to-toe in welts and bruises, lice, and bodily wastes. Worse: you are bound hand and foot, your limbs are stretched to the four winds on the rack, and your captor stands above you mocking your every breath. You can’t move, you can hardly breath, and every time you try to sleep or escape into the recesses of your mind your captor turns the wheel yet another notch. There is absolutely nothing you can do but suffer… and, eventually, die. Welcome to the hell that is Krark-Clan Ironworks.