On its branches now hung their lord, stripped bare, bound about the arms and neck with thick crude chains of iron, arms outstretched, a great spike driven into each forearm just below the wrist. A figure draped in vermillion silks stepped lithely from the tree's circle, her movements graceful and menacing like a serpent uncoiling. "So glad you could join us, my lord." A grin spread across Portia's face, though the smile did not reach her eyes. "The king," she said gesturing vaguely behind her, "is unhappy with his accommodations, but I have assured him that his stay will not be long."
—From The Well of Power , an entry in the Tome of CHAOS