Completed Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

Postby Erik Murphy on January 13th, 2016, 4:24 pm

8th Bell - 53rd of Winter, AV 515 - The Gallows

The sun had broken its way through the horizon and celebrated its freedom by painting a beautiful canvas across the sky, creating a sublime medley of reds, oranges and even a hint of blue as the night still had a presence. It was a flawless sky today, the clouds for a moment had surrendered and while the air was crisp and rejuvenating and the snow had faltered in its assault on Sunberth. Normally the Slum would just be stirring, the cold air encouraging the denizens of Sunberth to stay in their beds, huddled under the covers but today had roused many from warmth and gathered in force in the Castle Commons.

The noise was deafening, an inevitable result when dozens, if not hundreds, of people shouted, cursed, or just simply talked amongst themselves. A hanging always brought crowds out, the hanging of a mage brought out true hatred. In Zeltiva they execute a man by shoving him in The Labyrinth or decapitating in private lest some feel queasy, in Riverfall they let accused fight over some pathetic point system as it were boxing match, and in Syliras they simply banish him so their childlike eyes don't have to see such a scoundrel. In Sunberth they did it properly, they showed the city what guilty really were; animals, scum, filth to be scrapped off the bottom off the poorest beggar's foot. They were not people and they had forsaken the right to be treated as such.

As the everyone in crowd jostled each other, each one trying to get closer to small makeshift jail that had been guarded since yesterday so that they could fling insults and stones at the guilty. Erik stood at the door of the cage, standing firm and proud as his face was fixed into a permanent scowl as he felt the pain still ebb from his burnt arm. He had been there for three bells now, hearing the begging and grovelling of the crazies who had been engraving the strange symbols all over the city and he thought they were pathetic for trying.

"I don't remember doin' that ser, I just woke in this cage"
"We didn't do any of thing your sayin', please don't hang us"
"I've got a family, they need me, they'll wonderin' where I am. Please let me go, I can't let them see me die like this".

Their begging didn't tug at Erik's heartstrings, he was still smouldering with anger from the events that had unravelled the day before. Even the witch tried poking her head through the bars of the cage in attempt to escape the noose.

"I did nuthin', I swear. We're innocent, we're Sunberthers just like you" She cried to him as fat tears rolled down her face. Erik raised his left arm in response, showing her the burns she inflicted upon him.
"You ain't anythin' like me mage, you'll 'ang and I'll smile when I 'ear your neck snap" He said, venom thick in his tone as looked down on her with disgust.
She tried to play the innocent victim, claiming "I've never hurt anyone with my magic, I've kept it secret my entire life. I swear to all the gods". Erik had no words to respond, her admittance of magic was enough to condemn her as far as he was concerned and while her words may have sounded sincere, Erik's mind was too clouded with rage and prejudice to even give them the time of day. He forced up the biggest lump of phlegm he could muster and spat it right in her teary eye before smacking her with the hilt of his blade. It was act he took great pleasure in as she recoiled in pain and did not attempt to plead.

The crowd suddenly fell silent, only the odd muttering and cough could be heard as they all set eyes on a single figure that walked through crowd as it parted before her. Morsare, Mistress of The Gallows, her true love was death and she was perhaps the only nuit with the arrogance to usher the living to Dira's sweet embrace. She brought a strange tranquillity with her; every pair of eyes followed her echoing steps through the street, up the steps and onto the platform of the Gallows.

She beckoned Erik, signalling her request for the first guilty prisoner to be brought forth to her. Erik turned to the cage and swung the door open. They had all but given up, some cried softly in their frail hands while others clutched beads and prayed to ever god they could think off. Erik grabbed the closest prisoner, not even allowing him to settle of his feet as he was dragged, shoved and thrown up the gallows' steps to the damning noose.

"You are guilty of carving symbols of magical nature, attacking the people of this city without provocation and consorting with mages" Morsase said clearly, her voice ringing out into the courtyard so that all could hear her as if she was standing right next to them. There was no question in her words, this was not a hearing, the verdict and punishment had already been decided.

Erik looked out on the sea of faces in front of him as he wrapped the thick nose around the man's head who sobbed silently to himself, mouthing a pray that could have been forgiveness, vengeance or help before he shouted with strength his lungs shouldn't have possessed "They're coming, they're coming!" Not a moment after Erik stepped back the Mistress of the Gallows pulled the lever and the trap door fell wide open. The snap of his neck echoed throughout the streets before the cheers of the crowds drowned it out. The body was torn out from the noose under the Gallows itself and dragged into the crowd for looting and desecration.

The Gallows had claimed the first guilty life but it wasn't done yet.
Last edited by Erik Murphy on February 15th, 2018, 9:31 am, edited 1 time in total.
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“And you have your part to play, Erik. You will be fooled, like most, but you will survive. You might even benefit it all. Hold history close to your chest, young man. That’s my advice.”
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Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

Postby Amilyn on January 20th, 2016, 11:46 pm

She lingered on the edges of the crowd, huddled deep in her cloak, and watched the proceedings in a grim silence. Though many in the crowd were roaring for blood, especially those closest to Old Kova who were excited for the comeuppance they believed the magic users deserved, there were several spectators who were silent out here where she was. It wasn't a sympathetic or empathetic silence (not here in Sunberth and never for magicians or wizards), but a grimly, satisfied silence, the kind that came from doing what needed to be done to protect their own from the dangers of the world.

Here, at least, she could stand to watch from without having to fake excitement or bloodthirstiness. Here, she could let herself stand solemn and grim as each magic user was hung and then torn down for loot and trophies, to be distributed among the closest spectators. Here, she could watch and grimly remind herself of the dangers she faced by having chosen to live in Sunberth, in the first place.

...five years she'd been here, falling far out of practice of the magics she'd learned at home, and she still couldn't understand the hatred and fear that bonded every native and long-term resident of Sunberth. It made her homesick for her family in Zeltiva.

That wasn't to say she didn't know how to fake the hatred, the fury, the fear, so as not to look suspicious, but, given a choice, she'd much rather hole up in her apartment in the Slums.

There was something else going on, though, something that'd prompted her to come anyway, despite her distaste. They were being hung for carving the symbols that had been popping up everywhere, for attacking the people, and for consorting with mages, the Gallows' Mistress had said. The last two were not unusual charges, but to be charged with carving the symbols? The symbols that had been popping up literally everywhere and on all sorts of surfaces?

Amilyn wasn't so sure about that one, but she kept the thought to herself. She only knew of a few and, even then, she wasn't entirely certain they existed, so who knew what other kinds of magic were out there for anyone to discover?

"They're coming, they're coming!"

The first time, she ignored the yells and the shiver that tried to shake her frame. The second time, she acknowledged that it was...odd and attributed her sudden tension to the hanging itself. The third time...well, the third time, it felt like something cold had trickled down her spine, raising the hairs all over her body, and she desperately wanted to slip into auristics to reassure herself, but the risk was not worth the small bit of reassurance she was likely to get.

She tried to huddle even deeper into her cloak as the next mage was brought up. What could the dead men have been referring to?



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Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

Postby L'orlei on January 22nd, 2016, 8:47 pm


What am I doing here, L'orlei asked herself, not for the first time since coming to Sunberth, but this time it rung truer than ever.

The first man dropped and L'orlei let out a startled gasp. She had known it was going to happen, of course, but this was her first time ever attending an execution. On Mura, such things did not happen. Crime, in fact, was very rare. There was little will to steal or kill in a place where half the population could either know what you were planning before you did it, or look into the past and discover your guilt. Not to mention there were many Konti with gifts that would identify a criminal just by looking at them. No, there were no hangings on Mura, and again L'orlei asked herself why she was there. But she knew it was because she must be. She had to watch. She had to know. This was why she stayed, what she was fighting against.

L'orlei pulled her cloak tightly around her. Small blessing that it was cold, she thought. Nobody would think twice about a woman with her hood pulled tightly around her face. Normally L'orlei did not hide what she was, but she thought it unwise to stand openly in this particular crowd. It was hard to hide the shimmering scales on her face and hands, and the gnosis mark right in the middle of her face marked her as one capable of magic, even if it was a completely harmless magic, to those with the knowledge to identify such things.

She forced herself to watch as the second Mage made their way up, hearing the name in her mind and holding on to it. She doubted anyone here even cared what the names of these men and women were, but L'orlei doubted she would ever forget. "Carving symbols, attaching people without provocation, and consorting with mages." Only the second of those seemed worthy of punishment in L'orlei's mind, and even that was a small thing in Sunberth. People attacked each other all the time in the lawless city. It was all about the magic. That was the only reason these poor souls were being executed. And even if they had done bad things, life was a precious thing. Execution was not the answer, all sins could be atoned for.

The konti's fist clenched as the second neck snapped. She was not a violent person, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than to see the entire crowd burn. Clyde would have done it. In her mind, Clyde was a hero. He would have saved the prisoners.

She looked away as the crowd tore down the second body. To her right she saw a man watching quietly, a look of satisfaction on his face. She looked to the left to see a woman, huddled in a cloak. Amilyn, her mind whispered. At least they weren't joining in with the mob, but neither showed the look of outrage she knew was plastered on her own face.

"Monsters," she muttered, probably a little too loudly, and turned her gaze back to the crowd. "All of you... What the petch am I doing here?"
Last edited by L'orlei on January 31st, 2016, 4:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

Postby Erik Murphy on January 23rd, 2016, 5:09 pm

Erik smirked as he heard the second neck snap. The man had cried, begged and pissed himself all the way to the Gallows. He didn't deserve a dignified a death, Sunberth had to be reminded of how pathetic these mages really were once you stripped away their power. No sane man learns magic Erik thought to himself as the body was again torn out from the noose, stripped and kicked as the crowd shook of the man's final word that were the same the last They want power, they want wield something that no good person would even think of touching.

The crowd started to chant, quietly at first but louder and louder as it spread outwards through the mob. "Monsters, monsters, monsters" The chanted over and over again, Erik didn't know where it had originated from but he smiled smugly to himself nonetheless; this was Sunberth, they knew what these people were.

He stepped down from the Gallows to bring forward the third victim from the cage. "Drag 'er out" He ordered as he pointed a damning finger to the mage. Two stepped forward into the cage and yanked her out, tearing her fingers away from the bars of the makeshift prison as the other prisoners cowered in fear. Men and women alike hurled insults her way, screaming in just inches away from her faces as she pushed and kicked up the steps, making sure he final moments were as humiliating as possible. "I never hurt anyone, I can't remember anything" She begged pitifully.
"Shut it or I'll cut out ya tongue mage" Erik replied as he grabbed her roughly but he scruff of her shirt and chucked her onto the Gallows' deck with hundreds of faces staring her way, each one of them with little more than disgust for her.

"You are guilty of carving symbols of magical nature, attacking the people of this city without provocation and using magic to oppress the free men and women of this city" Morsase said dramatically as people cursed under their breath, their faces rich with memories of time gone by. Erik raised his own arm in response, rolling back his sleeve as he unveiled his forearm. The burnt flesh was still raw, blotches of red and white that was horrible to look at yet no human would stop. The sores had scabbed and dried up yet Erik would consider himself a lucky man if he got to keep the arm at all, if infection didn't force an amputation he had no choice in. This was what magic did to people, it was evil, no debate about that.

The mage looked out on the crowd, her face just going through the motions of crying as her eyes had run dry a long time ago. Erik watched her look at the hate there was for a woman just barely old enough to be considered one but he had no sympathy for her. There was no confusion on how Sunberth felt about mages, no misinterpretation, she kept it secret because she knew it was wrong but she still did it anyway. She had to pay the price.

"They're coming, they're coming!" She said, her voice ringing clearly through the air as the crowd fell silent. Hardened mercenary and fierce parents shuffled awkwardly as they the listened to simple foreboding prophecy that had been said several times now.
"They're comi-"
"'Old 'er mouth open"
He barked as he stepped forward, eager to silence the mage before she cast some spell on the crowd. One man pinned back her arms as another forced open her jaw with pair or roughened, dirty hands. "Time shut you up" He spat as drew his dagger, her eyes watching the blade fearfully but she was too weak and feeble to fight back as he rammed the blade into her mouth. Her head thrashed in pain but a pair of strong hand held it firmly as Erik blindly hacked away in her mouth, unsure how to the keep the slimy muscle still as blood filled her mouth and poured down her chin onto the wooden planks below.

The screams lasted perhaps a moment too long, making the dramatic reveal as Erik pulled out piece of mangled tongue a little less impressive. The crowd still cheered though, the more sensitive souls were quieter than others. Erik chucked the bloody lump of muscle into the crowd as the mage lost all self-awareness, descending into a sobbing, screaming mess as the blood continued to gush from her mouth and with each breath fill her lungs and she choked and spluttered on the crimson fluid.

The lever was yanked once more; the mage fell with a welcomed snap as the drop proved too far and her body became detached from her head, spraying the crowd with blood and flesh as her body slumped to the floor and her rolled into the crowd. A fitting trophy for any brave soul.
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“And you have your part to play, Erik. You will be fooled, like most, but you will survive. You might even benefit it all. Hold history close to your chest, young man. That’s my advice.”
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Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

Postby Amilyn on January 28th, 2016, 10:43 pm

Amilyn glanced sidelong at the nearby figure who'd muttered loud enough for the closest spectators to hear them. As the crowd gleefully took up the chanting of 'monsters,' either ignoring or not having heard the latter part of their statements, she took note of the way they were huddled deep in their cloak with their hood up, looking almost like they were hiding from the rest of the crowd.

Funny. Isn't that what I'm doing too?

While the next mage was being dragged up to Old Kova, she sidled closer to them, carefully, quietly, and hopefully without attracting attention. She doubted anyone would notice her, though, with the way the lady mage was begging and pleading with the Mistress and her enforcer. Amilyn winced a little as the man displayed his burns for the crowd to see, wondering how and why the mages could've lost control of their fire, but their mistakes were her warnings and a reminder that Sunberth hated magic.

"You might wanna watch what you say, especially now," she murmured to the hooded figure, peripherally aware that they weren't all that happy with current events. Or maybe that was just her making assumptions, though the words she'd caught them say weren't exactly supportive of the execution. "They're eager for blood and have never been very fussy about whose."

The lady mage screamed and Amilyn tried to suppress a flinch, pushing away as much of her sympathy as she could while things ran their course. The man turned dramatically and flourished something bloody in his fingers, prompting the crowd to cheer some more, before he tossed it away and finally dropped the woman, whose head separated from her body in a grisly spray of blood. She didn't bother hiding her grimace at the mess, another reason to be thankful that she was watching from so far away.



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Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

Postby L'orlei on January 31st, 2016, 4:32 pm

L'orlei was shocked when the crowd took up the chant of 'monsters,' repeating the word over and over. Did I cause that? She hoped not. She considered the crowd monsters, not the poor mages who were being executed. Even if they were guilty, this did not seem a just thing to do. Execute them if you must, though L'orlei thought there had to be a better option, but don't do it publicly. Don't encourage the destruction of life in such a way.

L'orlei ached to help the people, and her gnosis burned to lend it's healing aid, but she knew there was nothing she could do. The woman on stage started her call of, 'They're coming,' but was cut off by the man who had been leading them on stage. She watched with hatred, an emotion she was only just becoming acquainted with, as he held her mouth open and cut out her tongue. The konti clenched her fist, and without thinking, reached for that place deep inside her. She felt the djed running down her arm and into the palm of her hand and welcomed it, bringing for a trickle of res. She wasn't thinking. She had no plan for the res, no idea of how to help, but it felt good to call on it.

Amilyn's words startled the konti and she jumped. The small bit of res in her hand transmuted to water and splashed to the ground next to her and she turned in surprise toward the voice, revealing her face beneath the hood. She was obviously not human, though it was not as noticeable as some of the other races. The scales on her face were light, and not incredibly obvious, but the gnosis on her forehead was visible to all. None of that by itself would immediately warrant anger from the mob, but L'orlei did not think it would help getting notice. And then there was the water. Hopefully this stranger, Amilyn, would not notice that.

"Oh, I.. I didn't realize anyone could hear," she stammered nervously, her eyes darting toward the puddle then back up to the woman in front of her. "I just.."

What could she say? This woman was a Sunberthian just like everyone else in this crowd. Her words seemed non-aggressive, but L'orlei knew saying the wrong thing at the wrong time could turn the tide quickly. She was no good at this. In Mura one didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing.

"This is just my first execution. I'm not used to.. to any of it."

L'orlei decided to ignore the puddle of water. Hopefully Amilyn had not noticed, or if she did, maybe she'd just think L'orlei had spilled her waterskin. She tried to covertly pull it off her belt and pretend she had been holding it all along, but covert was not one of her specialties.

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Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

Postby Erik Murphy on March 20th, 2016, 6:47 pm

The remaining prisoners had their lives claimed by the Gallows in short succession, both foretelling the arrival of someone or something. The sounds of snapping necks and swaying bodies did little to rouse the spirits of any man or woman in that courtyard. Each one shuffled away from the swinging corpses, left with an uneasy weight in their chest that the condemned spoke of an unavoidable fate, not that that would stop them telling themselves a lie to dismiss an uncomfortable truth.

Erik stepped down from the gallows, his moment of elevation already over as the pain of his burn continued to eat away at his mind with every beat in chest. But he was not deterred from his actions today. Mages have no place in this city Erik reaffirmed in his mind And outsiders overstep their place too often as well. The old man had long dreamt of a city where the men and women wouldn't have to worry about outside threats, where they could pick up hammers instead of swords and build something good. He was too old for the future, but that didn't stop him thinking about it for the sake of his children.

Tiredness overcame him suddenly, he realized how long it had been since he had slept with a good meal in his belly. He turned in the direction of home, leaving the last body still hanging in the noose and Morsare to do with it what she willed, it could fuel the Slag Heap for all he cared. Outsiders and mages left his mind as he trekked through the streets, his mind concerned with the inevitable bollocking he would receive at home, blood and burns would be hard to explain to a woman whose wrath he feared than all the Nuits of Sahova combined.

"Mages, nuthin' but trouble. Hang 'em all"
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“And you have your part to play, Erik. You will be fooled, like most, but you will survive. You might even benefit it all. Hold history close to your chest, young man. That’s my advice.”
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Six Feet Of Rope And A Seven Foot Drop

Postby Konrad Venger on March 29th, 2016, 2:33 am

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Hey, guys! Looks like all three of you haven't deducted your Seasonal Expenses for Winter... buuuuut it also only looks like only one of you is still active (cougherikcough). So, dude and/or dudettes, once you get back and deduct your Winter Seasonal Expenses, I'll grade this up, no problem. PM me when you have!

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Note: As of Fall 517AV, Konrad is known only as "Hansel" in Endrykas
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