In a luxurious palace, a group of noblemen and noblewomen drank freely.
An elven girl wore splendid clothes and a queen's crown, but an unshakable sorrow clouded her face.
As decadent music began to play, the drunken crowd broke into revelry.
The elven girl was dragged into their midst as well, playing several instruments at once like the lead performer in an orchestra.
Roland charged in and overturned the great table.
The candlesticks toppled, and flames roared.
Start over.
Monsters prowled through a gloomy castle.
Like a hero rescuing a princess, Roland cut through every obstacle and fought his way into its deepest chamber.
Behind layer upon layer of curtains, several hideous Orcs pinned the elven girl, her belly now swollen, against a dressing table and abused her without restraint.
Roland frowned and killed the Orcs, then dissolved into motes of light and vanished.
Start over.
In a luxurious mansion, a gathering of painters concentrated on their work.
An old man displayed his withered, aged body in their midst.
He was decaying like rotten wood, yet remained vigorous in spirit, tugging at the reins in his hand as though flaunting his power.
His other hand held a long leather whip, which he lashed down hard from time to time.
The elven girl was blindfolded, a collar locked around her neck, and she wailed miserably.
Soon, wounds covered her body, like plum blossoms blooming across her pale shoulders and back.
Roland sprang out from behind the painters, snatched the whip under their astonished gazes, and strangled the old man with it.
Start over again.
In a dark dungeon.
The elven girl's hands and feet had been cut off, turning her into a human swine, arranged like an elaborate offering to a deity.
Yet she had been placed in a filthy latrine.