Flashback Purging The Streets

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

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Purging The Streets

Postby Erik Murphy on January 26th, 2016, 3:10 pm

Calender19th - Several of the Daggerhands are rounded up in the streets by the civilian populace (Spring, AV 513)

10th Bell - 19th of Spring, AV 513 - Robern's Reaches

In Sunberth there was no black and white. The lines had been blurred so long ago that an indistinguishable grey was all that had remained, a man was forced to draw his own lines and hope that he never had to cross them. Few outsiders that came to the city understood it, you did what you had to see the next season and hoped the city wouldn't turn against you for it. They would never understand.

The Daggerhands had pushed too far for too long now. For years they had abandoned the pretence that they were trying to help this city at all, they were nothing more than thugs under the command of an outsider that wanted this city of free men brought to heel. Tensions had been escalating the city for seasons now; each misdeed fuelling the anger and hatred of the people who were only restrained by the sheer influence and manpower of the Daggerhands. Their grip had been waning and the Daggerhand would soon realise that this city was not filled with dogs that would beg for scraps, but instead wolves. Wolves who could tell when a deer was limping and all it needed was a taste of blood to be sent into a frenzy that would tear them apart, limb from limb.

Erik had made his was into the streets as soon as the sun has shattered the fragile horizon, cast a foreboding bloody shadow across the clear, crisp sky. For a moment everything was silent, peaceful even. The birds could be heard singing their beautiful songs in perfect harmony, the laughter children echoed through the streets and they played in the snow and waged war on each other with snowballs. It was the lull before the storm. The city held its breath for a moment, soaking in the serenity, before exhaling.

He had no fear of the scum that filled Robern's Reaches today, he was done being pushed around by outsiders and the Sunberther's that had thrown their lot in with them. When you had over hundred men and women at your back, thinking the same thing, ready to do what had to be done, you weren't scared of anything. This is was the mob, this was Sunberth incarnate.

They splintered off into the maze of alleyways, a dozen in every dank street in search of any Daggerhand who was unlucky enough to be on patrol that day. Erik didn't lead his group, no-one did, and so they led each other instead with each step they took. His wife would want him home right now, she would tell him not to get tangled up this mess and start being a role model so that his kids turned out the way he wanted them to be but he was an old Sunberther through and through, the best way he could he their future was to topple the foulest gang in his memory to have plagued Sunberth.

He had his blade in hand, he knew this was going to get violent. Most weren't even fighters by nature, they carried daggers or clubs, even a plank of wood with rusty nails rammed into it while other accepted that their fists and numbers were the best weapons they could hope to wield. Others were mercenaries like him, some had lost comrades to the Daggerhands, some were fed up of their monopoly on their trade while others simply opposed what they stood for.

It didn't matter.

This was the mob; this made every thief, labourer or deckhand the fiercest army anyone would stand against.
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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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Erik Murphy
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Purging The Streets

Postby Erik Murphy on January 20th, 2018, 10:03 am

Erik squared up to a random door as men and women continued to swarm past him, the song of the bluebirds had been easily drowned out from the pounding of marching feet as chants, shouts, and what could be described wordless cries of anger coalesced into bloodthirsty choir. Erik lifted a scuffed leather boot, lining it up for a moment before slamming into the scratched surface of the wooden door. Bang. The corroded hinges faltered for a moment as Erik raised his foot again. Bang. Rust was scrapped off the bolts as the door shuddered, struggling to stay in one piece. Bang. Finally it was bolt that gave way at the door swung open, sweeping up a cloud of dirt and dust as people flooded into building around him, ready to enact enlightened justice on whomever was inside.

Erik didn’t even have time to cross the thresehold before a man was dragged out; kicking, biting and cursing anyone he could, every inch of the way. His fierce red hair became a dull, dirty mess, thick with the muck that caked Sunberth’s streets as he thrown, sprawled out on the floor like a lame man, a black tattoo of a blade encircled by thorns was show proudly on the back of his right hand and for a brief moment the was silence and inaction by those nearest to the man as, after all, there had been a time when no one would’ve messed with a man with such ink. “I ‘ope that pretty lil’ tattoo there was worth it” Erik spat mockingly as the pale blue eyes of the Daggerhand met his own “’cos I don’t think it’s doin’ ya any favours right now”.

He lifted his boot once more and stamped down, with unrestrained brutality, as he smashed the man’s face back down to the ground. More violence ensued as people rushed to join in, kicking and punching the man, slamming their clubs into the body as he curled up, trying to shield himself for the constant blows. If the man begged for the beating to stop as his face was bruised and torn, his hands and feet broken, then Erik didn’t hear it over the primal shouts that flooded his ears as the Daggerhand was called every foul word he could think of. Erik wondered for a moment if the man ever knew this what people really thought of him, if he ever thought what his neighbours would do too him given the chance and the backing the mob. Then he went back to kicking the shit out of him once more.

Finally he was dragged limply from the vicious ring of thorn that had encircled him, though Erik doubted it was much relief as the bloodied and bruised was yanked unceremoniously by either arm in the direction of the Gallows and Ol’ Queen Kova’s sweet, humiliating release. No-one wanted to make them too numb to the fate that awaited them, the mob was just the first part of spectacle, the hangings where the chest thumping words would be shouted to all.

Erik could only move on, as the sound of more struggles erupted sporadically in the alleyways nearby. There were so many Daggerhands and such little time.
ImageImageImage
“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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Erik Murphy
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Posts: 73
Words: 130410
Joined roleplay: December 12th, 2015, 12:38 am
Race: Human
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Storyteller secrets


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