Jump to content
The Pen is Mightier than the Sword
Sign in to follow this  
Patrick

WW XLIII - game thread

Recommended Posts

Disclaimer: As mentioned in the OOC thread, this game shall contain language and possibly graphic scenes. You've been warned.

 

 

 

"Fuck this rain..." it wasn't really a curse, just the typical annoyance of seeing the rain come at the end of the working day when the whole day had seen glorious sunshine. And of course it was on a sodden day like this that Director McAdam left his umbrella at home. He was really a warden, but under new regulations for his inmat-, no *patients* he had to remind himself. They had to be called patients now. Under new regulations for patients, the term director was now preferred. At least it made for a less awkward introduction at tea-parties. Calling himself a director instead of a warden even made him look more important. But his importance was scant protection against this "goddamned rain!"

 

His exclamation echoed in his small office. A warde-...director should have had a bigger office than this. But the new regulations also stated that it was important not to impose a large and lavishly decorated office on the...patients when he had to talk to them. So a small, cramped office it was. More than once he had wondered whether these new regulations improved the lot of the loonies more than they deserved. Afterall...half of these wackos had murdered someone.

 

He sighed, a long heavy sigh of annoyance. He shouldn't even have cared about the rain. A new inmate was... Patient! Patient! "We have to call these fuckers PATIENTS!" he roared. A new inmate was arriving late at night. One of the worst ever to grace Lupine Asylum if the newspaper reports were to be believed. "John Doe," they called him, simply for the lack of any identity. He had murdered a family of five, decorating the walls with their organs before going into a police station, announcing to the on duty officer that he wanted to give himself up, before shooting the officer in the head at point blank range. Then he had simply sat down, took off his shoes and started dancing in the quickly spreading blood. A real nut-job. A perfect candidate for Lupine Asylum.

 

Director McAdam was sure that "John Doe" would be one of those who never left his establishment alive. After all...no one liked what that piece of shit had done to those kids...cutting their stomachs open before "allowing them the pleasure of seeing their parents cut to pieces" to use his own words during his trial. Heck...for something like that it might even be Director McAdam who would arrange an unfortunate accident. He had kids himself and couldn't allow a crazy like that anywhere near them...

 

It was thoughts like these and a few too many unfortunate accidents in his previous posting, as the warden of a top-security prison that had brought McAdam to this job. He didn't really mind though. In a messed-up way, he was more at home among these insane people than when eating the bland dinner his wife had prepared, making small talk around the family table... Yes...he would call home. He would have to work late this night. Maybe even the rain would stop if he stayed long enough...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

OOC: Written with Tanny :)

 

Officer Bruce Anthony Daniels started his day by checking on the inmates in Sector C. He paced slowly and purposefully, looking in every cell and banging on doors to be sure whoever was inside was awake enough for him to see their faces.

 

Bruce kept this routine every morning: start with either Sector C or Sector D, and check on the inmates.

 

Patients. Have to remember that. Patients. Regulations say that they are patients, and they're in their dorms and not cells. Have to keep that in mind.

 

The change had been recent, and Bruce still resented his apparent inability to change the vocabulary. Patients, dorms, Director. Why couldn't he just keep those in mind? He frowned, ignoring and burying deep in his mind a cackling laughter. I really need to stop all that caffeine going into my system. Probably if I slept better I wouldn't hear this buzzing in the mornings.

 

He went about his business, rattling doors and shouting 'patients' into silence if they dared to defy him this early in the day. Whether hospital or prison, Lupine Asylum had its rules and he was responsible for enforcing them. No one was to...

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a scream coming from one of the cells. Checking its number, he shook his head. It was the same troublesome number C5; every now and then, he'd just start screaming at the top of his lungs and would not stop until in a straigtjacket and sedated. He's being too pampered, that's all. A pep talk would do him good.... He punched a fist against the palm of the other hand, and immediately froze as an evil grin started to surface; he put his thoughts under a tight rein.

 

He will receive his usual morning shot, better call the doctors.

 

Frowning, Bruce reached for the radio. While talking to the doctor on duty, part of his mind wondered again why those strange thoughts kept resurfacing; probably the caffeine and all those horror books he liked to read. Or did he? Sometimes he did not remember the stories, or even the book, but when he checked on his bedside table in the morning they were there, with a page bookmarked and even some notes scrawled in the margins of some pages.

 

Stress. I really need to take it easy. No trying to take things into my hands, I'm just an officer. He smiled in a more satisfied way, resuming the pacing in the corridor.

 

John Doe here, huh? And to think I might be checking up on him in Sector A soon... A feral gleam flased in his eyes, and a brief darkness clouded his mind. Bruce blinked, trying to focus his thoughts on his duty. New patient. Only that...

 

Not just a new inmate. A FUN inmate! Tony grinned and began to whistle tunelessly. Tony refused to use the new terminology. Bunch of politically correct bullshit, really. And it tickled him to see Bruce struggle to relearn everything Tony made him forget during the night.

 

"Shut your God damned trap before I come in there and shut it for you!" he roared to C5. The screaming stopped in shock for a few seconds, before it started up again. Tony laughed to himself and made his way to Sector D, practically skipping with his good mood. Maybe one of the inmates there will give me an excuse to discipline them today... Tony slapped his nightstick into his palm contemplatively.

 

It's not like he needed much encouragement to

(Kill)

be a little rough with the inmates. Really, considering the things they'd done to be there, they had to expect there'd be

(kill blood maim rip their fucking throats out)

beatings.

 

Tony blinked and shook his head a little. Bruce's paranoia must be catching, he mused to himself, before he resumed his tuneless whistling and made his way to Sector D.

He had a feeling today would be fun...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Loretta watched Bruce go by, noting the change in his step. "A strange one," she muttered to herself, but then something moved in the corner of her eye. She turned to find it, but saw nothing. "Now what was I doing?" She looked through the bars in her cell and saw Bruce just turning a corner at the far end of the hall. "Who was that?" she wondered aloud, screwing up her eyebrows in apparent consternation. Then she whirled around, looking at the bare space behind her. A cot. A toilet and sink she could just see behind their curtain. A desk with a partially done puzzle was the most interesting thing in the small space. "Where... where am I?" she murmured, taking a step toward the desk. "I don't remember... being... oooh." Loretta grabbed one of the puzzle pieces and deftly fitted it with another piece. Then without turning or looking anywhere else, she slipped into the small wooden chair and immersed herself in the puzzle.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Thomas made his usual rounds through the hallways, ensuring that everyone was in thier place and not doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. Like trying to escape. But then again, if one of these "patients" tried to escape, Thomas might have something a little more interesting to do than walking the hallways, like capturing them and making sure they never try that again.

 

Thomas still hated that the warden made them call the inmates by the word patients. He'd been around the prison system long enough to know that call them whatever you want, when it comes right down to it, they're inmates, convicts and the like, even the insane ones. Its not like the things they caused were accidents... they did it, and were found to have done it. Inmates... all of them...

Edited by Lord Panther

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Bruce knew that some hours had passed, since it was time for the morning break. At this time, half of the inm... patients had their 'sunbathing', while the other half left for occupational therapy.

 

Hah... therapy... they will never learn anything useful... unless it is how to kill in a more creative way... haha... yes, kill... kill them!

 

He blinked at the suddenly intruding thought, and pushed it aside. Bruce wondered for a minute where the morning had gone, since last he remembered it was still wake-up call... but probably he had just been distracted by routine, and never really noticed all the automatic things he'd be doing. Yes, that was it... a calm, uneventful morning most probably.

 

He and his fellow guards started escorting the patients out of their cells towards therapy; Bruce kept his attention on a couple inmates that were usually very restive, and who once in a while tried something stupid like trying to escape in some way.

 

He had but thought about that, when it happened: there was a shout, a boy pushing through the more or less organized double line of inmates, and suddenly half of them were falling. The guards were quick to act: some of them closed in making a circle around the fallen and falling inmates, some used a bit of well-placed persuasion to make the standing ones help the others up, and a couple dashed out to arrest the would-be-escapee.

 

Bruce was one of the latter, and he easily recognized Thomas just a few steps ahead of him.

 

As Thomas grabbed the boy, he started screaming. A well-placed punch on his stomach by Thomas made him double, and Bruce pushed him to the floor. Bruce looked up and saw Thomas' grin, staring at the now whimpering boy. Bruce started shaking his head.

 

"No, officer. He is already down. We must take him to the director, who will take the necessary measures."

 

"Oh?" Thomas barely turned to Bruce, focused as he was on the boy curled up on the floor. He started screaming again as Thomas stepped on his hand.

 

Bruce made as if to stop Thomas, and inhaled sharply as dizziness overcame him.

 

Scum... just annoying trouble... a little old discipline and ... kill... yes, kill him... accidents happen, he resisted ... kick knock out kill kill...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

A dark grin formed on Tony's face that was met and returned by Thomas. Slipping his nightstick from its holster without even thinking about it, Tony approached the still screaming boy and began to beat him. He thrilled at the feel of the stick connecting with the boy's flesh, listening carefully for the sound of breaking bones.

 

Crack! Brilliant. There was one now. A rib, by the feel. The boy howled and tried to struggle away, but Thomas had him pinned by his shoulders and Tony had one heavy foot on the boy's ankles. Somewhere in the back of his head, something was laughing. If Tony hadn't been distracted he might have realised the oddity of this. If Bruce knew this was going on he sure as hell wouldn't laugh...

 

Kill'im

Yes. That was a good idea. Teach this whelp and all the other inmates a lesson. Tony doubled his efforts, unaware that he'd begun to laugh aloud with the voice.

 

By the time he had to stop - that damned warden was on his way, better let Bruce handle him - the boy was a bloodied, broken mess. Tony wasn't entirely sure if he was dead or not, but by God that kid had learned his lesson!

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Bruce looked down at the bloodied mess that was at his feet, and stepped back with a disgusted grimace. As he turned to Thomas, he was met by a bland face and grinning eyes.

 

Kill... finish it, kill'im... he'll point fingers at you... kill...kill...

"How did this happen, officer?" He frowned.

 

Thomas unobstrusively let his nightstick fall close to the boy's body, glancing at Bruce with a suddenly wary look. "He resisted, obviously... don't you remember?"

 

The sound of steps stopped right behind Bruce. "What the hell has happened here?" bellowed the warden, before realizing that there was a pool of blood spreading slowly towards his feet. "Officer Daniels?"

 

Killkillkillkillkill...

"He attacked us, Director." Controling the strange impulse to hit the boy's head was not difficult for Bruce, for although he had never talked about it, he always felt that when he was near a dying criminal. He considered it to be an impulse towards mercy, to end the suffering of a human being... or so he told himself.

 

What was more difficult was to remember what exactly had happened; he remembered running after the boy, and he seemed to remember Thomas fighting him. His memory, or a voice in his memory, told him that the boy had grown savage and rather dangerous — as Thomas' nightstick near the body proved.

 

Bruce looked levelly at the director, as he told how the boy had been completely out of control and the use of some force had been necessary to calm him down after the boy had managed to take Thomas' nightstick from his hands.

 

"... right. We'll talk about this later." Frowning, the director shouted for the doctors without taking his eyes off Bruce.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Doctor Paulson was the first to arrive at the scene, or at least it had looked like Doctor Paulson. When the patient threw off the doctor's uniform and planted a knife in the warden's throat chaos broke out. Detainees started rushing all around the place and in the confusion the director's killer melted into the crowd.

 

It was only three hours later that Doctor Paulson body, savagely mutilated, with the scalp removed, was found in an abandoned storeroom.

 

A totally overwhelmed Deputy Director Higgs did the only thing he could think of. He ordered a full lockdown of Lupine Asylum and issued the guards shotguns, with orders to kill any patient who was found outside of his cell. Poor old Dennis, the oldest inmate of the asylum and one who was genuinely stark mad was an innocent victim of that order, not finding his way in from the exercise yard.

 

It was going to be a long night for everyone.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Lokriad sat in his cell reading, giving no sign of concern as to the events of the day. If anything, he almost seemed happier at not having any distractions from his book, despite the circumstances. His only concession to danger was moving his heavy desk to block the door, and sitting at it so that he could glance past his book and through the bars at anyone who might approach. In this manner he waited patiently for the panic to end.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Bruce paced the corridors, keeping his shotgun ready. He didn't feel too comfortable with it, or at least thought he shouldn't feel; but truth be said, his hands sometimes caressed the weapon as one would caress a lover, and there was something oddly familiar in the weight of it and they way it fit his arms.

 

shoot... killing shot... bangbangbang... shootingpartykillkill...

His vision wavered a bit, and another presence gazed greedily at the shotgun through his eyes; there was a stray thought that was almost perceived by Bruce, ooooh... nice toy... and in my hands...

Bruce shook his head, frowning.

 

"Must be the shock of it," he muttered to himself, "The Director did not deserve to be killed like that."

 

Of course he did... he was an idiot...

 

"No he was not." Bruce was a bit angry now, feeling again the old inability to keep his own thoughts under control. "He did everything that was needed. He was correct."

 

He looked at Lokriad, hidden behind his book. "Hey, you! Put down the book so I can see your face and hands!"

 

Lokriad barely glanced at Bruce, keeping his book and hands exactly where they were. Bruce's expression closed, and he raised the shotgun with the full intent of poking it through the bars and at the book, and maybe even letting his finger pull the trigger.

 

It lasted a full four seconds before he lowered it again, sweating.

"Regulations say that I should not touch the patients in their cells unless ordered to, or them being out of control, or threatening non-patients. This one is doing nothing." He repeated that over and over, with slight variations, taking two steps back and then walking rigidly away, eyes darting to all sides and to each cell.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Pussy, Tony snorted with contempt at the back of Bruce's mind. He eyed the shotgun lovingly, caressing it whenever Bruce was distracted enough. He loved the feel of a good shotgun, the recoil against his shoulder as it fired, the target area exploding into a red mist, the wonderful smell of gunpowder...

 

A rat ran across the corridor, eyed greedily by Tony.

Target practice?

 

As if he'd heard him, Bruce tightened his grip on the shotgun, rechecked the safety, and continued to recite the regulations to himself. Tony gave up trying to exhaust himself and settled back to watch contemptuously.

 

Bruce was so infuriatingly impossible to hijack at times like these, when he was so fucking paranoid about sticking to the rules.

 

Come on...Kill'em all...you know you want to...

Agreeing with the voice in the back of his head - although that was a bit strange, even for him - Tony resigned himself back to watching and waiting.

 

For now.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Back in her cell, Loretta paced. "I know I'm here for a reason," she told herself, "I just can't remember what that reason is..." She looked around the small cell. It wasn't quite a prison cell, but the bars on one side made it impossible to mistake for much of anything else.

 

"Hey," she said loudly. "Hello? Who else is here?"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Regulations say that I should not touch the patients in their cells unless ordered to, or them being out of control, or threatening non-patients. This one is doing nothing," muttered Bruce again as he stopped in front of Loretta's cell. He shook his head, looking at her as she stared back blankly.

 

"Stop shouting, you are disturbing the order."

 

"Oh... you are an officer, aren't you?" Loretta examined Bruce with a puzzled expression, trying to find out why he looked vaguely famlilar. "Where am I, and why?"

 

"You are where you've been for the last months, and you're here because you were sent here. That's all you need to know. Now stop shouting before everybody else thinks that they are allowed to do the same."

 

Shut the fuck up, bitch! You shout enough as it is.... maybe I should give you reason to scream more than shouting.... Bruce frowned once more, forcefully stopping his hand that had risen to open the cell door. No. I should not touch patients, if they are disturbing the order but do not look dangerous I must call the doctors.

 

Sissy! You know you want her... The voice was suddenly smooth, almost enticing. Now angry, Bruce hit the bars of the cell, startling Loretta who took a few paces back.

 

"Shut the fuck up!" he yelled, not exactly at Loretta but at the voice in his mind.

 

He forced his hand to the radio, more to give it something to do instead of trying to open Loretta's cell; scowling at the radio, not very sure what to do once he had it on his hand, he shrugged and called the doctors. "Cell C12, needs some calming down."

 

Slapping the transmitter back in place, Bruce gripped the shotgun more firmly and continued checking the patients and the cells. "Weapons are to keep patients in his cells," he muttered to himself, "Use them only if patients are out."

 

And where is the one who killed the Director...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Since Doctor Paulson's gruesome death the doctors insisted on having an armed guard accompany them. Donovan was one of the most brutal guards of the establishment. He took insanely high amounts of pleasure in watching inmates squirm in pain or fear. Escorting a quack was not his idea of fun, but it was work and he had to do it.

 

"Get the fuck back against the wall!" he yelled practically next to Bruce's ear, although the order was clearly directed at Loretta. "Move a finger the wrong fucking way and I'll shove this shotgun up your ass before I pull the trigger!" He lifted the barrel of the gun menacingly. "Open the cell, then cover the inmate. Shoot, think afterwards," he instructed Bruce. Not that he outranked him...but he liked ordering others around. And he was known for a bad temper...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

OOC: At present we all seem to still be stuck in the initial lockdown, so I really have no idea what to write. However, my vote goes to Donovan.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Loretta backed up, not looking away from the gun. She tripped over her chair, then kept skittering back on her hands and feet until she bumped against the far wall of her cell. "Don't hurt me! Who are you? Where am I?!?"

 

"Get back!" Bruce shouted irrationally, and Loretta tried to shrink into the wall. Donovan put his face right into hers. "All you need to remember in that tiny brain of yours is that you are not to ask questions!" he growled.

 

Loretta squirmed, and Donovan revelled in it. But then she looked away. Her eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. Her back straightened, and she began to stand up, with the obvious intention of wandering to the other side of the cell...

 

 

OOC: Hjolnai, I don't think we're allowed to vote for NPCs. If so, though, I'll second that. We should definitely lynch this guy! :P If not, I'm not sure that at this point I can really justify voting for anyone other than Bruce or Tony. Hrm. Tony it is.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Lokriad continued to sit in his cell, turning page after page, and scarcely acknowledging the shouting down the corridor. Finally, he grew tired of the distraction, and spoke quietly to himself; "This annoyance is beyond reasonable; perhaps one of these guards is more dangerous than the other inmates...". He then called out, just below shouting volume, "Keep it down! I'm trying to concentrate here!".

 

He then realized that his words would be more likely to provoke further distraction than to help.

 

OOC: oops... voting for an NPC probably is pointless. I'd agree that Tony presently seems the most dangerous character.

We need a bit of plot progression, I think, because the lockdown is making it hard for any progress to occur.

Vote changed to Tony.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Tony watched Bruce struggle with the situation and let out a derisive snort. Pussy. You can't even handle a lockdown without having a fucking panic attack.

 

Tony watched the way Bruce's hand clutched the shotgun whenever he spoke and laughed.

 

You wouldn't last a day without me, Brucy-my-boy. Tony sighed and shook his head.

 

"Shut up shut up shut up!" Bruce muttered quietly to himself, shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts. Where was that voice coming from?!

 

You'd better watch yourself Bruce, people are starting to talk. They might be talking about me, but if I'm gone, you'll be eaten alive...

 

...I'm not the worst monster out to play anymore...

 

OOC: Voting for Lord Panther - Thomas

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Bruce closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He forced his thoughts to shut up.

 

SHUT UP!

 

He was somewhat relieved that everything seemed clear for moment. Gripping his shotgun, he went back to patrolling the corridors, aware that there were some whispers and that there were eyes following him.

 

Thomas... weird guy... he was the bloody guy who beat that inm... patient into a pulp Bruce frowned. Wasn't he? I just looked and it was... done...

 

~~

OOC: Sorry, in a hurry! :P Vote for Lord Panther/Thomas

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Thomas didn't much like the lockdown. Made things too orderly for his liking. The inmates were all alone in thier respective cells, no real challenge for him. The shotgun, well, as much as he liked it, it was too efficient for him, the baton was much more to his liking. But none-the-less, he was doing his job the best he knew, even if all the challenge was currently being stripped away.

 

He had, however, seen that Bruce seemed to be enjoying the extra armament, carressing it like one would something they loved. Then again, he did notice that Bruce was an odd one, always muttering to himself, like he was having some kind of internal argument with himself. If he did go crazy, Thomas guessed at least Bruce wouldn't have to take a long trip to get his "help".

 

OOC: vote for Tony.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Careful there, Brucy, Tony warned. People don't take kindly to seeing the guards being the ones that talk to themselves.

 

"Damn it, that is IT!" Bruce snarled to himself suddenly. He didn't understand it, and thinking about it too hard made him fear that he was losing his mind, but Bruce had finally found the "source" of the voice in the back of his head.

 

Bruce was no brain surgeon or psychiatrist, but now that he had a location he was finally able to concentrate on blocking the voice and impulses that came from that corner of his brain.

 

(Now come on, Bruce...) Tony frowned. There was a wall that hadn't been there before. (Bruce?)

 

Sighing contentedly at the silence, Bruce straightened his shoulders and continued about his rounds, now only subconsciously aware of the voice that had plagued him's struggles against its new prison.

 

(Awww Bruce! Come oooon! I was only playing!)

 

Bruce was so pleased at Tony's silence, he didn't even notice the much darker mutterings that lurked just out of reach.

 

Kill...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Night was coming yet again and Deputy Warden Higgs had no idea what to do. He had not been ready for this responsibility, had not wanted it. The curfew and the shotguns had been a desperate move and he held the order, just recently in via telegraph, to revoke the guns. He sighed. Just a couple of days and he would be able to hand the whole heap of dung over to someone who actually wanted it.

 

He finally gave the word to have the guns brought back and allow things to calm down for the night. At least only one prisoner had died since the warden was so brutally murdered. He sighed again and gathered his coat. He could think of nothing else but going home to the welcoming arms of his wife and forgetting all the blood in her warm embrace. A smile touched his features.

 

It is now nightphase. Specials, PM me your targets. Nightphase shall be closed about a week from now. (yeah, I'll probably be late...so what? :P)

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

The night started out relatively calm. The stress and pent up tension of the day however did not find any release. None of the guards had been able to go home as those from the night-shift had not been able to go on duty. Fatigue was taking its toll and more than one guard had been seen falling asleep at his post.

 

It might have been fatigue, or deliberate reasoning that left some of the cell doors imperfectly locked. More than one figure walked the asylum during the night where he did not belong. When a scream pierced the night, shattering the illusion of calm none of the guards rushed to investigate. After all, screams were commonplace during the night in a house of the mad. What they found however made them immediately raise the alarm.

 

It took three minutes of the phone continually ringing for Deputy Warden Higgs to disengage from his wife's loving embrace, cursing whoever called him to the high heavens. Less than a minute later he was in his car.

 

What greeted him in William Johnson's cell made him throw his delicious supper up.

 

-------------------------------------------

 

"Did you see what was written on the wall?" one of the guards asked another a few hours later as they sat sipping coffee in the guardroom.

 

"In his own blood?"

 

"Yeah...whoever killed him had a fucked up sense of humour. They wrote 2 + 2 = 5!" The forced laugh was their way of trying to relax.

 

Unbeknownst to them Chaos walked the walls of the Asylum that night.

 

------------------------------------------

 

When the morning came the lockdown was finally lifted and tired guards were relieved from their posts by the next shift. A few decided to stay on however. They were the dayshift after all...

 

OOC: Venefyxatu - William Johnson has been killed by the wolf. Chaos has exchanged the roles of two people. These two people shall receive a PM with their new roles. It is now dayphase for about two weeks.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Lokriad got out of the seat from which he had apparently been reading all night, and hauled his reading desk away from the cell door. With the lockdown at an end, meals would be available soon. Once the doors were unlocked, he painstakingly made his way to the dining rooms (which usually served surprisingly good meals for a prison, presumably on the basis that bad food and insanity would not mix) without taking his eyes off his book, as usual. For once, however, he kept to the side of the halls, rather than striding through the centre and leaving sidestepping to anyone going the other way.

 

As he walked, however, he caught the scent of blood, and noticed two guards standing before the bars of another cell. He saw red in the corner of his eye, then let his book drop from its constant place in front of his face. He stared in shock at the horrifying corpse behind the bars, for it was far beyond all the death he had seen before (and sometimes caused). He backed away quickly, then drew his book back up, unwilling to consider the image before him.

 

In the meantime, the guards saw his reaction. One muttered to the other, "This Lokriad bears watching. No prisoner has been shaken this much, this is probably an act. What's he thinking behind that book anyway?"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
Sign in to follow this  

×
×
  • Create New...