Lacedaemonian
A Plume of Smoke
I do not intend to offend. If you dislike violence, rape, disgusting use of adjectives then please, please do not read on. This time tomorrow it will probably be swimming with the spam in the sin bin.
I probably should not post this but really would like some feed back..... (Sorry Brian in advance)
My central character is a constable of the law, and due to some fraudulent claims, he is sentenced to imprisonment in this really grim gaol. This sentence is effectively death, as he put a considerable number of the inmates behind bars. Not essential to the tale, more essential to the central character. It is a rough draft, and here it is:
The table leg snapped from the shoddily inmate crafted furnishing, the shiv raked down his back across his ribs grating against his spinal column. The lump of lead on a piece of elm, apparently a hammer, stove his head in, the now free table leg snapped his cheek bone with one thwack! Then the nervous inmates clamoured to place an unpolished leather boot to face – just so they could later claim to have done so.
All the while he rejoiced in the pain. Nothing of him called out to self preserve. Nothing of him called out to kill these men. He was languid, slowly slipped, rejoiced at this chance to end it all. And then it stopped, just noise and spittle. Something warm washed over him and he thought it was deaths relief. Laughter and mocking – they had pissed all over him. And then a voice sickly queer, rose, leapt above the piss talk and spoke words that cut the soul from him..
“You might as well know it constable. I was the first and last to **** your elf wench, might be she was already dead before I spilled my seed up her tiny arse!” Laughter. “Aye she called your name a hundred times, but you never came did you? Her knight in shining armour…” Two fingers punched through his nostril and ripped the nose from his face, a thumb jabbed an eye from its sunken socket, teeth tore into his groin and ripped at thigh, cock and balls. He tried to push the ******* away but his arm was snapped from the elbow, and then his head was tore left to right to left to right and snapped and he was dead, and a naked bloodied Danae screaming animal like, cock and balls splattering from his mouth and in his right hand the head of Aln Morraine ripped clean from its torso. “Ahggllllrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!”
That night in Wodgen Gaol, the inmates begged the gaolers to lock them in their cells.
I probably should not post this but really would like some feed back..... (Sorry Brian in advance)
My central character is a constable of the law, and due to some fraudulent claims, he is sentenced to imprisonment in this really grim gaol. This sentence is effectively death, as he put a considerable number of the inmates behind bars. Not essential to the tale, more essential to the central character. It is a rough draft, and here it is:
The table leg snapped from the shoddily inmate crafted furnishing, the shiv raked down his back across his ribs grating against his spinal column. The lump of lead on a piece of elm, apparently a hammer, stove his head in, the now free table leg snapped his cheek bone with one thwack! Then the nervous inmates clamoured to place an unpolished leather boot to face – just so they could later claim to have done so.
All the while he rejoiced in the pain. Nothing of him called out to self preserve. Nothing of him called out to kill these men. He was languid, slowly slipped, rejoiced at this chance to end it all. And then it stopped, just noise and spittle. Something warm washed over him and he thought it was deaths relief. Laughter and mocking – they had pissed all over him. And then a voice sickly queer, rose, leapt above the piss talk and spoke words that cut the soul from him..
“You might as well know it constable. I was the first and last to **** your elf wench, might be she was already dead before I spilled my seed up her tiny arse!” Laughter. “Aye she called your name a hundred times, but you never came did you? Her knight in shining armour…” Two fingers punched through his nostril and ripped the nose from his face, a thumb jabbed an eye from its sunken socket, teeth tore into his groin and ripped at thigh, cock and balls. He tried to push the ******* away but his arm was snapped from the elbow, and then his head was tore left to right to left to right and snapped and he was dead, and a naked bloodied Danae screaming animal like, cock and balls splattering from his mouth and in his right hand the head of Aln Morraine ripped clean from its torso. “Ahggllllrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!”
That night in Wodgen Gaol, the inmates begged the gaolers to lock them in their cells.