Execution of a spy

Jensen

Hopefully this comes out okay, I've never posted rp logs before sooooo here we go....

We had captured a spy of Juxa's pretending to be a refugee.  Now that the war is over, it was time to deal with him.

A prison cell shrouded in shadows.

There is nothing out of the ordinary to recommend this fully furnished cell over any other save its total commitment to the plunging darkness. Barely streaming into the corridor, there is not enough light for most eyes to make out the exact locations of walls, objects, or even their own limbs, making bumps and bruises a very common threat. A stagnant puddle pools into both back corners, soaking into the filthy rushes that carpet the cold ground and promise a slippery, unpleasant give with each step. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A heavy set of shackles are chained to the wall of the cell. A burly Troll is here, battered and bruised. A conscripted Spirean soldier coldly scans the area for threats.

You see a single exit leading east (open pine door).

A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A heavy set of shackles are chained to the wall of the cell. A burly Troll is here, battered and bruised. A conscripted Spirean soldier coldly scans the area for threats. 

You see a single exit leading east (open pine door).

Moirean Seirath is here.

You can see the following 4 objects:

"monolith sigil64289"    a monolith sigil.

"shackles289292"         a set of iron shackles.

"Brek249749"             Brek, a bruised troll.

"soldier61816"           a conscripted Spirean soldier.

Tall and muscular, this Troll is a rather battered example of his race. Bruises blossom across his face, staining his green skin a sickly brown hue. He is missing at least three teeth and he regards his surroundings with a surly glare.

Brek, a bruised troll looks weak and feeble.

You say to Brek, a bruised troll, "Get up, spy."

You say to Brek, a bruised troll, "Yer fate has been decided."

You have emoted: Jensen cracks Brek across the face with the back of his hand.

nothing.....

 

You have emoted: With a quick haymaker, Jensen pops Brek in the mouth, sending a few teeth scattering across the cell floor.

You exclaim to Brek, a bruised troll, "UP!"

Moirean paces back and forth as the Troll refuses to respond, her agitation clearly growing. "UP!" she finally screams, waving her hand at Brek, a bruised troll. "TIME FOR BLOOD!" Her eyes grow a bit wider, white visible around the irises, and her voice echoes loudly off the cell walls in an echoing resonance. "YOU hurt the city. MY city. MINE. TIME TO DIE!"

You have emoted: Jensen glances briefly at Moirean and then back to Brek. He swings his bastard sword heavily at the wounded troll, stopping abruptly at the prisoners neck. A small trail of blood trickles down across the blade from a small nick to the prisoners throat.

You have emoted: "Die fightin' in tha open air or die in the dungeons with yer fellow rats," Jensen snarls viciously at the troll.

Moirean draws in a quick ragged breath, nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. "Yes..." she growls, her fist curling tighter. "Make him BLEED. Make him HURT."

You nod your head at Moirean.

You have emoted: Jensen retracts his blade from the prisoners neck, enlarging the wound but not severely. He then secures the massive sword, opting for a smaller blade.

You start to wield a jewel-encrusted sacrificial dagger in your left hand.

With a sudden giggle, Moirean Seirath says to Brek, a bruised troll, "You should have talked!"

You have emoted: Jensen sweeps the troll of his feet with a swift kick to the calf. He pins the prisoners arm to the ground with one knee and slams the dagger down. The blade clinks hard into the cell floor, severing all the trolls fingers in one blow.

You have emoted: The wounds bleed profusely, wetting the ground with a sickening crimson. Jensen quickly works to tourniquet the trolls arm with and impromptu strip of leather.

You give a strip of leather to Brek, a bruised troll.

Moirean's giggle increases in volume as she presses closer to you, hovering behind your shoulder as she looks down at your handiwork. "Yes, lovely," she breathes, urging you onwards. "Make him suffer, make it beautiful."

You have emoted: Calmly, Jensen finishes tying the knot, talking cheerfully as he works. "In tha Syssin ya lose a finger fer lyin'... yer not talkin' yet so prepare ta lose 'em all."

You have emoted: Jensen drives his knee into the trolls other arm. You hear the sickening crunch of bone as his weight presses into the prisoner.

"Yes, all of them!" Moirean echoes, letting out another laugh. The sound bounces wildly off the walls of the cell.

You have emoted: Raising the dagger high above his head, Jensen looks into the trolls eyes and murmurs, "Yer goin' ta die down here." A lighting quick glint of the blade cuts through the darkness, and the fingers of the remaining hand lie severed.

You start to wield a strip of leather in your right hand.

You have emoted: Jensen begins to tie a tourniquet on the other arm of the troll.

Loudly, her words melting into another high-pitched wild giggle, Moirean Seirath says to Brek, a bruised troll, "Die! You're going to DIE!"

You have emoted: Finishing the knot, Jensen looks to Moirean and asks, "Time fer him ta die yet?"

You have emoted: Jensen peers eagerly at the mutilated prisoner.

"He needs to scream!" Moirean decrees. "He attacked my city, MINE, and he needs to SCREAM!" Her eyes are wide and her breath comes quick, her movements almost a scurrying as she circles the prison cell.

You see Moirean yell, "MAKE HIM SCREAM!!!"

You have emoted: Jensen removes several more strips of leather and begins work on the trolls legs. "Would hate fer ya ta bleed out when I sever yer legs jus' below the knee," he states coldly. He tightens the leather chord around each leg, mid way down the thigh.

Moirean shakes her head. "Now!" she commands. "DO IT, want it, now, now!"

You have emoted: Jensen rises up off the prisoner, securing his dagger and remaining leather to his person.

You cease to wield a jewel-encrusted sacrificial dagger in your left hand, securing it conveniently on your weaponbelt.

You cease wielding a strip of leather in your right hand.

You pull a square-cut Chaltieran bastard sword from your weaponbelt fluidly.

You start to wield a square-cut Chaltieran bastard sword in your hands.

You have emoted: Jensen looks to Moirean for orders.

With a crazed, wide-eyed smile, Moirean Seirath says, "Quarter him."

You have emoted: Jensen hefts the mighty bastard sword above his head and brings it down with all his might. The resounding clank echoes through the cell and into the dungeon halls as the blade cuts through the prisoners shin bones and smacks against the hard floor.

Oh, and scream the Troll does. His silence finally breaks, erupting into a pained and broken wail, the sound blood-curdling as he writhes beneath your ministrations. Thrashing and crying, the man tries to break free, setting the chains rattling and groaning from their sockets in the stone walls.

Blood fountains up to spray across the room as the prisoner's cries mingle with the distant laughter of carousing Spireans in a grim, disconcerting mix of pain and pleasure.

You have emoted: Looking down at the prisoner with no remorse, Jensen states, "With them tourniquets, he'd bleed out after a day or two... I could also end it now."

You ask Moirean, "Want his head?"

The spray of blood splashes across Moirean's face. Her eyes close - she almost seems to savor it and grows still for a moment. "Finish him," she giggles as her eyes open. Unfocused and staring at something not quite here, she sways back and forth, nodding. "Finish him! Show his head at the gate!"

The soft clank of armour fills the air as a conscripted Spirean soldier shifts her weight, scanning the area for potential threats.

Brightly, Moirean Seirath says to Brek, a bruised troll, "You don't get away with taking what's MINE, no you don't. Time to DIE!"

You have emoted: With a curt nod, Jensen swings the blade in a wide arc, connecting with the prisoners neck cutting clean through. Jensen keeps his stance, holding the blade out 180 degrees from it's starting position. "Death ta all traitors of the Republic," he utters, coldly.

The screaming escalates and then abruptly cuts off into a soft, sickening gurgle as the man's neck is sliced open. His body slumps down as blood begins to pool around him, slowly trickling towards a drain in the center of the cell.

"DIE!" Moirean eagerly agrees, nostrils flaring again. Her hand paws at the air briefly - it darkens, a patch of shadow visible for only a moment - but it seems whatever she is trying to summon remains elusive. Her gleeful smile melts into a sharp frown and, abruptly, she turns on her heel, striding out. A trail of bloody bootsteps remain in her wake.

Moirean leaves to the east.

You have emoted: Jensen secures his blade into his weaponbelt, and reaches down to grab the head of the prisoner.

You say to a conscripted Spirean soldier, "Clean up tha mess."

I leave to another part of the prison

Heavily-guarded entry to the dungeons.

You give Moirean a respectful salute.

You have emoted: Jensen wipes some of the blood from his face, but only manages to smear it into finger sized trails.

You ask Moirean, "Are ya alright, ma'am?"

Moirean turns to you, a wide grin splitting her face. White teeth shine out beneath the crimson blood smeared across her skin. With a bubbling giggle, she replies, "Oh, Warden, I am juuuust fiiiiine."

You have emoted: With a curt nod, Jensen affirms, "Yes ma'am, let me know iffin ya require me further. I wish ta pike that traitors head to our gates."

Moirean gives an approving nod. "Good work," she positively beams.

and I left

Lin

Jensen said:

You have emoted: Calmly, Jensen finishes tying the knot, talking cheerfully as he works. "In tha Syssin ya lose a finger fer lyin'... yer not talkin' yet so prepare ta lose 'em all."

I love that apparently this is a thing.

Moirean

I am slightly worried at how OK Jensen was with all that. He's a very...enthusiastic Warden.

Lin

HE'S THE WARDEN SPINESREACH DESERVES.

Ishin

Us Syssin go hard, yo. Real hard.

ROCK hard.