"Open up!" a voice shouted as fists pounded on the door.
He roared and slammed his fists against the ground.
Rhyn stretched to tap fists with him, and the portal information lit up his thoughts.
He lowered his fists and shook his head.
They will hold their arms over their heads until the muscles atrophy, will keep their fists clenched till the nails grow through the palms, will lie on beds of nails, cut and stab themselves, drag, week after week, enormous chains loaded with masses of iron, or hang themselves before a fire near enough to scorch.