Aeterdust Family/Feyd/Feyd RP1

Your men go hunting rebels, storming homes and arresting peasants, capturing some insurgents. After your men are done, 8 peasants are gently swinging from the makeshift gallows. Morale in the region drops 0 points to 1. Morale of your troops falls 1 %.

Feyd is standing in front of the gallows watching the bodies slightly swinging... forward... backward... forward... backward... such perfect movement. A distant thought edges in the back of his mind, that he has rarely seen something so beautiful, but of course it never reaches the complex structure of a full thought. All regret the image might produce is that there are only eight peasant swinging, ten or twenty would have made a much rounder number.
Yet, Feyd stands contemplating the beautifully morbid sight: stiff bodies balancing through the air, bluish faces stuck for eternity in a moment of choking and horror, eyes bulging out of their eyeballs, clenched fists that had tried to stop their imminent deaths, but had only managed to scratch the ropes or the now purple skin on their necks. Mouths stand open, some now drooling, fixed in the silent screams of asphyxiation, that have never got to be heard and never will be. They fill the entire being of the beholder like serene music must have filled the poppy smelling wimps now hanging from the gallows.