The interior of the usually-empty tavern opposite the stronghold was filled with faces of many origin today- not just Kreiguard. Bloodied and battled men and women chanted songs on typical genevaud nature, clanking classes and laughing jeers as the bards played a heart tune- one could perhaps even mistake their Kommandant- the one who had led this victory among them in their glee. The man was pressed in a booth with the officer cabinet- all too drunk to cohesively speak lest remember the words of each other the next day.
His own soberness troubled him greatly, scurrying out of the booth with small chuckles as his officer's patted his back firm, offering to pay for his drink- he wasn't after any of that- no. Instead he made his way outside, peering off toward the waterfront near the Nook. How could he have done this, fashioned an armour of ideology that was destroying his very soul- acting like he hadn't just ordered the death of five hundred years of knowledge. Wolfgang slung himself down on a bench overlooking the black, swirling waves before hurling over and vomiting to his feet- had he really been humbled this much by his own fluids. A mighty victor defeated by the guilt and pity he had for his enemy'- his own fear taking him back to his victory speech…
I was looking out over a crowd of bloodied ally's, the shock of battle still made my knees sake- I hadn't realised what I'd done until I put it into words. "We did it lads, five hundred fucking- years of Void text, burned!" I'm glad the men thought my pause was for dramatic effect- in truth I was trying to work our how many man hours of labour, how many healing spells considered 'heathenry'- if these books were in genuinely heretical, by any other chance I could have burned political dirt on the Lord Commander or any other noble on the surface, yet here I am parading our victory against fine literature and hard work a hard fought and deserving one.
I started to pick up my breaths- as though the fresh air was choking me- this didn't happen in the sewers, I could breath fine in the sewers… what was happening. I looked up, reminded from my thoughts by the gleaming eyes of a crowd of spectators- they wanted only two words, two words that was worth more than gold in times of victory, and a reassuring blanket in defeat. Words we believed would one day stamp itself like an iron press into the minds of the enemy
"Zum Kreiguard!"
My words were met with the shouts of repetition as I made my way down the stage stairs, fumbling with a tabacca pouch as I lit myself a roll to place between my lips- before I saw him- no it, before I saw it…
I glanced at the Kather, bound and restrained by Herr Otto, the thing was unarmed- looked terrified though I suppose I couldn't blame it, imagine if I was in his shoes, imprisoned among Kather after a defeat, awaiting what fate had for me. I glanced around me, my men had followed my gaze and were prancing around it, as though it were a tribute from our foes. "Back up, give the prisoner some space!" I couldn't be seen as weak- my men would eat me alive if I treated this thing as if it were any kind of Ailor. But I couldn't for the lift of me just send it to it's death and expect to sleep at night.
Otto looked to me, his face hardened with determination- or was it post battle shock? "His mates abandoned him- he's a doctor of sorts".
Shit- how the hell did he get captured, I gave a fucking route for them to flee, I ordered my men to not kill those fleeing to conserve ammunition, yet this stupid- stupid thing had gotten caught. The news was enough to ruse one of my eyebrows as I peered to it. Remember- it's a thing, I feel as though in a way I was just as scared of what my men thought of me in that moment as that Poor Kather did too. "A healer, hmn? Did you land a blow on any of my men?" Good Wolfgang- good. I can sleep fine executing a combatant-
"It's a doctor, Kommandant," Otto repeated, his words as firm as they were before.
I couldn't
In an act which must have been seen as cruely by this poor Kather, I dragged it by it's hair out of the keep and closer, step by step toward it's refuge, the entrance to the sewers before I threw it toward the entrance. Now was your chance- fucking run.
'I want it's ears'
'Crush the Kather scum!'
My breathing only picked up again- the thing was on the verge of a breakdown, the fear in it's eyes marking me like hammer on red steel. But I had an idea, the thing wasn't an abberynth, our pureteks wouldn't harm it- but perhaps it could play dead, catch the initiative and save itself while we return to our drinking… "Company, form firing squad!"- perhaps it was useful to drill the men in execution squads, should a need like this arise. "Present arms." My three best men raised their Demi-Tek toward the helpless Kather, his eyes gleaming with what looked to be tears- for fucks sake, I couldn't do this either; "Stand down gentsl; it's gotten the message" I said behind a smile, making my way toward it. I was confident, I can give myself that, no one was the wiser to the battle going on within my skull, out from one and into another.
I couldn't just send this Kather unharmed, my men wouldn't like that, my allies wouldn't like that and i'm sure as hell my family would raise questions.
'Cut it's ears!"'
The answer was claded out for all around to hear. I drew my long dagger, pointed and sharpened, polished every drill session though a virgin to the ways of killing. I strided toward the prisoner, "Consider this a small mercy, you'd be dead if you landed a blow on any of my men". The words were meant to be ones of kindness, but even I couldn't help but hear the cruelty in them, my own unedited cruelty. I swiped at the man's ears twice, retrieving long strips of flesh which were cast to the cobbles at my feet as I pushed the poor soul down the stairs, away from the demands of my men.
I breathed out, what else was there to do now, now was not the time to bicker over the books burned or the souls left. There was no time for that, not now, likely not ever; what was done was indeed done. So what could I do? What words could possibly ensure a victory- clear any doubt that what I was doing was morally correct, that I was acting in the interests of my faith, my men, myself?
What words would save me?
'Zum Kreiguard!'
@Ryria
His own soberness troubled him greatly, scurrying out of the booth with small chuckles as his officer's patted his back firm, offering to pay for his drink- he wasn't after any of that- no. Instead he made his way outside, peering off toward the waterfront near the Nook. How could he have done this, fashioned an armour of ideology that was destroying his very soul- acting like he hadn't just ordered the death of five hundred years of knowledge. Wolfgang slung himself down on a bench overlooking the black, swirling waves before hurling over and vomiting to his feet- had he really been humbled this much by his own fluids. A mighty victor defeated by the guilt and pity he had for his enemy'- his own fear taking him back to his victory speech…
I was looking out over a crowd of bloodied ally's, the shock of battle still made my knees sake- I hadn't realised what I'd done until I put it into words. "We did it lads, five hundred fucking- years of Void text, burned!" I'm glad the men thought my pause was for dramatic effect- in truth I was trying to work our how many man hours of labour, how many healing spells considered 'heathenry'- if these books were in genuinely heretical, by any other chance I could have burned political dirt on the Lord Commander or any other noble on the surface, yet here I am parading our victory against fine literature and hard work a hard fought and deserving one.
I started to pick up my breaths- as though the fresh air was choking me- this didn't happen in the sewers, I could breath fine in the sewers… what was happening. I looked up, reminded from my thoughts by the gleaming eyes of a crowd of spectators- they wanted only two words, two words that was worth more than gold in times of victory, and a reassuring blanket in defeat. Words we believed would one day stamp itself like an iron press into the minds of the enemy
"Zum Kreiguard!"
My words were met with the shouts of repetition as I made my way down the stage stairs, fumbling with a tabacca pouch as I lit myself a roll to place between my lips- before I saw him- no it, before I saw it…
I glanced at the Kather, bound and restrained by Herr Otto, the thing was unarmed- looked terrified though I suppose I couldn't blame it, imagine if I was in his shoes, imprisoned among Kather after a defeat, awaiting what fate had for me. I glanced around me, my men had followed my gaze and were prancing around it, as though it were a tribute from our foes. "Back up, give the prisoner some space!" I couldn't be seen as weak- my men would eat me alive if I treated this thing as if it were any kind of Ailor. But I couldn't for the lift of me just send it to it's death and expect to sleep at night.
Otto looked to me, his face hardened with determination- or was it post battle shock? "His mates abandoned him- he's a doctor of sorts".
Shit- how the hell did he get captured, I gave a fucking route for them to flee, I ordered my men to not kill those fleeing to conserve ammunition, yet this stupid- stupid thing had gotten caught. The news was enough to ruse one of my eyebrows as I peered to it. Remember- it's a thing, I feel as though in a way I was just as scared of what my men thought of me in that moment as that Poor Kather did too. "A healer, hmn? Did you land a blow on any of my men?" Good Wolfgang- good. I can sleep fine executing a combatant-
"It's a doctor, Kommandant," Otto repeated, his words as firm as they were before.
I couldn't
In an act which must have been seen as cruely by this poor Kather, I dragged it by it's hair out of the keep and closer, step by step toward it's refuge, the entrance to the sewers before I threw it toward the entrance. Now was your chance- fucking run.
'I want it's ears'
'Crush the Kather scum!'
My breathing only picked up again- the thing was on the verge of a breakdown, the fear in it's eyes marking me like hammer on red steel. But I had an idea, the thing wasn't an abberynth, our pureteks wouldn't harm it- but perhaps it could play dead, catch the initiative and save itself while we return to our drinking… "Company, form firing squad!"- perhaps it was useful to drill the men in execution squads, should a need like this arise. "Present arms." My three best men raised their Demi-Tek toward the helpless Kather, his eyes gleaming with what looked to be tears- for fucks sake, I couldn't do this either; "Stand down gentsl; it's gotten the message" I said behind a smile, making my way toward it. I was confident, I can give myself that, no one was the wiser to the battle going on within my skull, out from one and into another.
I couldn't just send this Kather unharmed, my men wouldn't like that, my allies wouldn't like that and i'm sure as hell my family would raise questions.
'Cut it's ears!"'
The answer was claded out for all around to hear. I drew my long dagger, pointed and sharpened, polished every drill session though a virgin to the ways of killing. I strided toward the prisoner, "Consider this a small mercy, you'd be dead if you landed a blow on any of my men". The words were meant to be ones of kindness, but even I couldn't help but hear the cruelty in them, my own unedited cruelty. I swiped at the man's ears twice, retrieving long strips of flesh which were cast to the cobbles at my feet as I pushed the poor soul down the stairs, away from the demands of my men.
I breathed out, what else was there to do now, now was not the time to bicker over the books burned or the souls left. There was no time for that, not now, likely not ever; what was done was indeed done. So what could I do? What words could possibly ensure a victory- clear any doubt that what I was doing was morally correct, that I was acting in the interests of my faith, my men, myself?
What words would save me?
'Zum Kreiguard!'
@Ryria
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