The fact that Torgo didn’t have any satisfiable answers to any of the inquiries being made by his tormentors did not in any meaningful way deter them from their grisly duty. The Harbingers that had brought him to this festering dungeon had long ago departed to resume their patrols. Now it was the duty of the Queen’s Inquisitors to draw from Torgo the information that the Witch Queen sought. This was to them a sacred task which they underwent with an almost gleeful eagerness. Torture and the inflicting of pain to extract favorable results was their stock and trade and they were among the best that the world had ever seen. But no amount of torment can be wielded to get an answer when the person being interrogated has not the vaguest idea what you are babbling about. There will be no satisfactory resolution to the process other than the horrific, twisted sense of joy that comes from mercilessly raining anguish on to the subject of this needless endeavor.

As might be expected from the undead minions of a lich who is a member of the Diosian Lodge, the Queen’s Inquisitors are a vile and detestably cruel group. Their transformation into becoming undead stems from the sadistic pleasure that they got while they were living in torturing their prisoners. The inherent evil of their actions allowed the darkness of damnation to descend into their souls and physically corrupt their material bodies into nightmarish mockeries of their former selves. They no longer require food or drink, they do not sleep, and they never need rest. They exist for one reason and one reason alone, and that is to inflict pain and ask questions.

Torgo would have loved to have given them the answers they sought. However, he was quite baffled by their questions and without any knowledge at all of the things they were talking about he couldn’t do anything to alleviate his ceaseless punishment. The Queen’s Inquisitors asked him how long he had been a member of the crew of the Queen Myrtle and to their infuriation his reply was always that he had never been a member of that crew. To the best he knew that ship was under the command of Captain Divo Zucco. He was the First Mate of the Blue Skull, under the command of Captain Brass Sabre. But this wasn’t what the Queen’s Inquisitors wanted to hear. The Harbingers that had brought the prisoners in had told them that they were the crew of the Queen Myrtle, which apparently was just a cover for the ship which was more widely known as the Blue Skull. That is what they wanted Torgo to confess to, being a part of an elaborate pirate heist that involved bold thievery and sneaky disguises. Torgo didn’t seem to know anything about any of that. When the questions turned to the item that was stolen, Torgo knew even less. He couldn’t even confirm what the item was much less what its value was or provide a reason for stealing it in the first place. For all of the joy they got from causing Torgo pain, it was almost as painful to the Queen’s Inquisitors not to be getting the information that they wanted.

Unbeknownst to Torgo his fellow shipmates that had also been taken prisoner were suffering as much as he was. However, they were less important in the eyes of the Queen’s Inquisitors, and so they were not merely tortured. So intense were their excruciating ordeals that one by one they died, succumbing fully to the wanton agony being dished out by their captors. When one prisoner died the Inquisitor responsible for their suffering would move on to assist another of his peers in the furtherance of pain distribution. And so on it went until at last all of the Queen’s Inquisitors were focused solely on Torgo. By now his limbs were mangled almost beyond repair, his skin torn and cut, bruised and burned. Every effort at their disposal had been utilized to get the answers they wanted, but to no avail. As disappointing as this was, it was all they had left to report to the Witch Queen.