"The Butcher of Blackwald": Chapter II
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"The Butcher of Blackwald": Chapter II
by Sir Lancelot Fri Dec 03, 2010 10:31 am
The Butcher of Blackwald
Chapter II
„Late life and death”
Blackwald…I remember this place from my childhood, extraordinary place, unlike anywhere I’ve ever seen. True, in my life I never left borders of Gilneas, my rainy homeland seemed to be all the same. But Blackwald was different...that forest had something intriguing in it.
An elusive aura of mystery, from beyond this world a calming shadow.
Gilneas has never really been a particularly sunny place of course, but Blackwald was exceptionally dark, hence its name obviously. My village lied just outside the wood, and I could see the withered trees from my window. People would often share the horror stories and speak of the evil haunting the forest. Truth be told, a lot of them, especially superstitious peasants, would be scared of it. Little people ever dared to venture deep into the woods. I was not one of them however, where people felt dread, I felt calmness and peace. Blackwald was a place of peace and tranquility, there were no birds singing in the trees…only a wind howling in the night. As a child I would often go there with my sister and play, carve our names on the ancient tree hunks or try to climb them. As an adolescent boy, I would go there to put my mind at ease and wonder about the meaning of my life…As a murderer, chased by dogs and militia, I went there to seek shelter.
Gilneas was not as vast kingdom as Lordaeron, and the news would spread instantly, news about the murderous son slaughtering his mother and running away, who later has been connected to all other killings in the Greymane City. I have lost everything, my reputation, my wealth, my education career and most important, the love of my life.
I stayed hidden in the old abandoned house, deep within the woods, there I found an old cemetery where I had laid my sister to her final rest. The sorrow and depression after her death had enormous impact on me. I faced the fact that the purpose of my life died along with Isabelle and would never return again. But what strucked me even harder was an irony. There I was, in Greymane City…a killer with a plan and goal, agent of death, individual person who understood what was really going on. I hated the life, I could see through its lies. Everything people strived for, had no meaning at all as death was ultimate. The Grim Reaper came for all of us and that…I understood and respected, the power of death over life and that motivated me in my crimes. Because of this I felt no guilt over what I did, no conscience toward the people I killed. Were it true, then why I cared so much about Isabella?!
She died…death came for her too, death that I revered so much, why then did I even care about that? The agent of death, grieving about her beloved passing…I should have been glad! Happy that my sister was released from the painful torment of her existence. This irony shook the foundations of my philosophy. No longer was I a cold scheming killer, now I was a raging beast. Fury within my heart had no rational explanation. I had to aim this fury at someone, or it would destroy me.
That I couldn’t allow. I knew Godfreys were responsible for my fathers death and I once swore my revenge on them, it was a time to put my plans to work. I had waited several months for the entire case of murders to settle down, then I went to the village, I didn’t even had to disguise myself. So much time spent in woods had changed me inside and outside, I wasn’t a shaven and perfumed young noble anymore, I had a beard, old tattered leather clothes, hand axe and a horse that I stole from the stables once. I gathered local thugs and cutthroats and formed a band.
Thanks to my father’s knowledge given to me, I knew the “territories” of Godfreys influence. We would ambush the caravans of their familly, rob them and kill the passengers showing no mercy.
Members of my band of course, being a greedy thugs, did it for the spoils of robberies…myself, I did it for pure revenge, they took care of wagons, I took “care” of passengers. For a long time we continued our work until we had driven the Godfrey family to bankruptcy. My revenge was fulfilled and I was fully satisfied with their misery, I had no intentions of killing them, that would be too merciful. I wanted to see them being depredated into the very beggars they spat on.
Then I noticed that I have went too far, I’ve crossed my limits.
Revenge may have been completed but all this time spend on pillaging had its toll on me. I just enjoyed killing…there wasn’t any “Noble goal” in this anymore like few years ago, I killed for fun.
And so we have continued to terrorize the local roads, but this time we moved to the west. We had our hideout in my Blackwald house, from there we would go north and lurk on the high cliffs above the road coming from Duskhaven, we attacked the caravans, robbed them, killed anyone who was on board and then dumped the carriages filled with bodies into swamps where crocolisks would make sure they would be never found again. The caravans would just disappear, and not only trade caravans, we robbed and killed everyone, even single horsemen, messengers and so on. I think our infamy would even cause the Ogres from local hills to be jealous.
Unfortunately, what is good has to end sooner or later, my cruelties toward the travelers were starting to worry even my own men, especially when ultimately my identity has been revealed when people noticed the similarities of my crimes and connected “Dieter the Matricide” to “The Butcher of Blackwald” which was my title I have proudly earned myself as a leader of the band. As I said, some of my men realized that I was killing not for money but for the pleasure and started to revolt, such little quarrels usually ended up on me hacking them, intending to make a warning to all who would stand against me. My authority over them was complete, or so it would seem. Not only because of my habits to leave mutilated corpses everywhere I went nor my fierce looks, the beard, grizzled face and tall, athletic posture but also because apart from this I had a power of sheer intellect and cunning that made me control everyone I wanted.
But as it turned out ironically, some people were even more sinister than me, the price for my head was quite high and the militia said that any member of my band who would turn me in, would receive a total abolition from any punishments. Continue to follow the ruthless murderer or give him up, receiving no harm from the guards?
It was tempting, very tempting and so, I was sold out. My second in command let the guard to a hideout and they ambushed us while we were still drunk after a last raid. Though I took few of them down before they managed to seize me, I was still beaten up badly, shackled like a wild animal and dragged away. I grinned through my bloodied lips at the traitor when he was being executed by the militiamen still pleading for the so called “promised abolition”. All my men were executed, even the traitors, no exceptions were made. The hate stirring in the citizens of kingdom toward us was too great for any “abolitions” to be real. The same hate I’ve experienced when they had drove me in a special carriage reinforced with iron bars through the city streets, while angry mob would spit on me, throw rotten fruits at me, empty bottles and so on.
They locked me up in the deepest and most secure dungeon, trial was quick…well I don’t think there was any trial at all, for all the atrocities I have commited, there could be no fair trial. I was to be hanged at the dawn. I had only couple of hours to live…I sat there in my cell, reminiscing my life, short life many would say, I was thirty two years old by then. I realized how much I hated the life, the world, the people, for everything they did to me. They made me who I am and now they blame me? The world was evil, only death was fair. Death I was about to experience myself very soon. I wouldn’t say I was scared by then…more like excited, I’ve waited in anticipation. A thought came to me that I never really wondered about during all these years. If death is the only right thing in the world…what happens after it? If life is a torment, then death must be a relief…but what comes next? I never was a religious person, I pitied the Church of Light, to me it was an institution of greedy old men who used the peculiar technique of manipulation called “faith” to mind-control the plebian masses to do their own bidding. The hypocrisy of it made it the same corrupted element of life I’ve seeked to destroy so much. My loathing of religion made me a non-believer and thus I have never really understood a concept of afterlife…Oh, if could I have only known by then, how “gravely” I was mistaken. So I guess treated it like an end of the line, finally my torment would be come to an end, I would die with the smile on my lips.
But my death came a little later and it wasn’t as quick and painless as I have thought its going to be.
My old enemy was back, the Godfrey family, remembering what I had done to them have somehow climbed back up on the ladder of social hierarchy, they were in power once again. They bribed the guards and secretly transported me out of the city, far to the north. When the hood was finally pulled of my head, I found myself being strapped to a chair in some old cellar, several men stood in front of me, the light was very dim and maybe also because I was exhausted I couldn’t see their facial features but I knew they were Godfrey’s lackeys. They told me that I deserved a much much worse fate than hanging, that I will die like a rat I am, tortured and humiliated.
It took hours but I remember every second of it. This was the greatest irony of my life…I was known of killing my victims slowly, torturing them and letting them bleed out so they could experience death completely and the same fate was about to happen to me! I cackled madly when that thought came to my head but my laugh quickly turned into scream of pain as they began to scalp my head. They used an old rusty knife to gently cut the skin on my forehead, then they forcefully ripped it all off, along with hair. Can you imagine the pain? It was just the beginning, they flayed the skin off my entire body, cut off my nose and ears. I was in a world of pain and torment, I cried for death, choked on my blood when they made my swallow the glass from the broken window. Do you think I deserved it?...I shared the same death I gave my victims…Karma was such a fiddle bitch.
I think it is unnecessary to agony I felt because it was simply unimaginable.
When they had enough of my yelling, they removed my tongue and they didn’t cut it…they tore it off using the hot metal benders.
They left the eyes for the end, they ripped off my eyelips, then used a spoon to extract my eyes. After finishing my left eye they put it on my hand…it looked like a boiled egg, then they removed my right eye and my world collapsed into darkness. I must have stayed there in this cellar for hours, slowly bleeding out, but that I didn’t feel because after loosing my remaining eye the pain was so unbearable that I slipped away from my conscience into the dark void…my mind was hollow, there was nothing…no thoughts, no memories…no dreams.
An oblivion and at the end, finally…the long awaited death.
Sir Lancelot- Posts : 321
Join date : 2010-02-03
Age : 34
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