Remember: everything Jega ‘Rdomnai says is made up.

*Jega roams the perimeter of the Keep, eyes sharp and his stature imposing. He was bored... oh so fucking bored.* *Jega, notorious for being a Spartan killer and Escharum's right hand Elite, finds himself at a complete loss. Torture didn't give him the sadistic rush like it did before, and his captives weren't screaming as much. How lackluster.* *He perks his head up when he hears a twig snap, turning his body to find the source. His mandibles part, forming a semblance of a smile despite his lack of a human mouth. Perhaps it is a new toy to play with- he hopes so anyway.*