So, here goes. Rough translation with some artistic liberties taken :D Enjoy!
"Merigall stretched an arm into the darkness, but the other half of the bed lay empty. The Rust Brothers must have taken the bedfellow away at least an hour ago since the sheets met the fingers cool-dampish* dead. The youngling couldn't have resisted or tried to wake Merigall, in all likelihood due to the priests whispering of how every action of disobedience would bring harm to his village. The Rust Brothers feared Merigall, but they feared ravenous Krasylla even more, to whom the boy had now been taken for a last tryst.
The demon rose to correct it’s face in a small silver mirror. The features had slid as they were wont to do during deep slumber, but Merigall willfully stretched them to conventional beauty, chose a strict and dark, androgenous face above colorless clothes, in keeping with the day’s mood. The eyes remained yellow as a cat’s, as always.
Outside the stuffiness of the bed chamber the cold stone corridors of the stronghold Vond lay deserted. None dared stand guard outside Merigall’s chambers and no guard was needed either. The demon had taken the former quarters of the dwarven lord, high on the mountainside, for it’s own use after the human king Algavard had conquered Vond three hundred and fifty years ago and then left the region to march to new wars. The clan sign of the Crombe dwarves was still carved into each door, but it had long lost any meaning.
The Nightwere’s fog still embedded the rising sun. Even so, the day promised clarity in cold as well as in view and beautiful vistas of the scorched
valley lands of Hargas opened up to the eye where the demon passed. The passage down the mountain ran along the balustrade above one of the
goddess Hemes’ places of anguish. A couple of priests garbed in rusty masks over capes draped in ochre bowed in silence when Merigall passed, but the demon neither
recognized them behind the iron or responded to their greetings. A glance down towards the courtyard revealed that the church’s sacrificial prisoners were running out, for a single elderman stood fettered to the poles, thin as a barren goat. Maybe he was already dead, there was no reaction as white-painted shadows of death clawed out stripes of blood over his wretched body in their dance. The twisted tree trunk representing the
goddess Heme held an air of boredom as well.
The only doors to Krasylla’s chamber were set into rotating drums tied to a mechanical delaying device. The one who was pushed or chose to enter by their own volition were trapped for several minutes, moments that belonged to Krasylla and let him deal with his guests however he pleased. Merigall didn’t hesitate however, but pressed the door forward until from within the walls the sound of dripping mercury started counting down the time for the audience. The hall was warm and reeked like a slaughterhouse in comparison to the cool, clean air outside. The room was spacious, but Krasyllas semi-liquid form still occupied half of it. Merigall immediately saw it’s premonitions confirmed, for the body that experienced fingers had caressed only hours earlier was half embedded in Krasylla, who’s large, clawed hand squeezed** the torso, neither lovingly or to keep it trapped, but like the milk maiden squeezing the cow’s teat to empty it of it’s contents."
*hardest part of the translation, the swedish version is "svalfuktigt" which is a combination of cool and damp. So cool-damp, cool-dampish, cool-dampy or something similar
**it’s a play on words in Swedish since the word for hug and squeeze are the same in our language. As Brior said, there’s lots of that in this text, but this was the most glaring example.