Gallows in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by the snowy wastes and a familiar birch forest, they stood out like a sore thumb. Hastily assembled from scraps and fallen trees, just sturdy enough for the few to meet their end. A quick stop in their endless march, just a little break to take out the trash.
“... Execute order!”
A raspy voice rang out all throughout the valley. The first victim was pushed off stage - the climax of their performance. No applause, no cheers, no roses to be thrown at the hooded performer, just salvos of mocking laughter from the gathered, clad in heavy winter attire. As the carcass wiggled around with the rope tightening around their neck, the mercenaries couldn't help but throw in some cheerful obscenities to seal the deal.
“ ‘S what ya get, fucker!”
“Wigglin’ like a damn worm, look at ‘em!”
“Look at yer, ya pathetic pissant!”
The executioner tried calming the crowd down, a wide grin stretching out on his own face, revealing rows after rows of sharp teeth.
“Gentlemen… Gentlemen, c'mon, there's more for the pickin’! Save it for the next one.”
More laughter and yelling from the crowd as the showman's assistant scooted behind the second victim, putting a noose around their neck and covering their horned head with a sack.
“On behalf of Her Majesty, the ONLY RIGHTFUL king of us all…”
The crowd went silent right away, saluting the mere idea of Her Excellency.
“... I sentence you, caster, to death by hanging, on account of your piss poor attempt at treason!”
Loud grumblings and yells of approval arose from the gathered, some even pumping their fists in the air, some raising their blades and crossbows.
“Any last words, caster?”
The hooded figure shifted, its head tilting towards the executioner.
“... Can I say anythin’ that'll get me off these damn gallows?”
Low chuckles and grumbles stirred from the crowd. The showman spoke up again, muffling a laugh.
“I don't think so. What's done is done, actions speak louder than words, caster.”
The culprit nodded.
“Alright.”
And after taking a deep breath, their hands shot upwards in a violent motion.
“Ya blood sucking leeches! Y'all dare call yerself sarkaz?! Y'all a disgrace to the rulin’ race! Y'all be hangin’ by yer necks by the time the regent’s army’s done with that self righteous bitch! Y'all's cowards! Y'all's the real traitors! Y'all's nothin’ but-...”
The showman yawned audibly and pushed the loud troublemaker off stage, cutting their tirade short. Their gasps for air and loud panting were quickly drowned out by a sea of obscenities and ice cold laughter. The mercenaries gathered kept spitting at the hanging caster, one even going as far as to send a bolt from his crossbow into the hooded facade. The carcass stopped kicking immediately.
YOU ARE READING
"Goodbye Curly Head"
FanfictionThrough thick and thin the Law shall prevail. A new sense of purpose awaits us, children of light, in the land where it all began. The darkness in which we once cowered in fear, now curbed by the might of our endless light. Come, brothers, come, sis...
