Southasland/History/Execution of Floyd
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The History of Southasland |
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| The following was published by Vos Estis after the execution of Floyd 2005-03-19 |
Vos Estis is roused from sleep by an incessant shouting from the dungeons...
“What! What!” He yells into the darkness, not bothering to wait for his scribe to follow with a lantern.
The voice in the darkness continues. “I can’t stand it here! I’m going to go insane!”
Vos Estis immediately recognizes the voice as Floyd’s. “Floyd, Floyd,” he calls out comfortingly, “everything will be just fine if you keep quiet. Or, if you’d like, I can give you something to whine about. Have you heard of Mr. Thingy?”
“No, no. Not that,” whispered the anxious prisoner. “N-n-not the th-th-thingy. P-p-p-please not that.”
“Very well then.” Before turning to walk away, Vos Estis drives his elbow into Floyd’s stomach and growls, “Now shut up.” Floyd’s subsequent gasping causes him to cough up blood, some of which splatters onto the executor’s long coat. Vos Estis turns again to face the prisoner, with such a look of fury in his eye, that Danihel, his most faithful scribe, has to turn his head in fear.
“You worthless pile of vermin!” screams the judge. “How dare you dirty the robe of the executor!” Floyd, meanwhile, is still coughing and gasping, causing him to be unaware of what the executor is about to do. “See how this feels – if you can!” shouts Vos Estis as he grabs the prisoner’s head and jerks it to the side. Floyd’s shackled body instantly hangs limp.
“Danihel! Bring me your lantern!” The scribe dutifully sets his lantern at the judge’s feet. Vos Estis removes the translucent covering from the lantern, revealing the open flame.
“Danihel,” he asks, “This cave—this dungeon—it’s basically all solid rock, correct?”
“Yes, sire,” Danihel replies, “except for the straw and hay that lie strewn about, nothing in here will burn.”
Vos Estis likes what he is hearing. “What about human flesh, Danihel? Will that burn?”
Danihel is hesitant to respond. “Um, sir, I guess I don’t really know—”
“That’ll do, Danihel. You may leave.” The young scribe quickly makes his way up the stairs towards the entrance.
“Floyd? Do you hear me, Floyd?” A muffled moan comes from the limp body hanging on the wall. “Here, let me get you some soft bedding. Some nice hay and straw.” He proceeds to gather the materials from around the dungeon and make a large pile underneath where the prisoner is suspended. “Yes, that’ll do just fine.”
“You know, Floyd, I never liked you. Your former regime was not one that stood up for anything. You acquiesced and bent over backwards to make people happy, but did nothing to stand up for what you thought was right, because that would have been ‘difficult’. Sometimes, one has to stand up for what is right, even when many realms turn against you. Sometimes, Floyd, one has to have a spine.”
Floyd begins to mutter: “We stood up against your types; the only way you defeated us was that you had the element of surprise.”
“Surprise?” yells the executor. “How’s THIS for a surprise?” Vos Estis kicks over the open lantern into the pile of brush lying just below his prisoner. The fire immediately grows large enough that it will no doubt consume Floyd’s body in very little time.
“Good riddance!” laughs Vos Estis, playfully waving to Floyd as he makes his way back out of the dungeon, careful not to get any of the pungent aroma in his nostrils. “I know burning flesh has a way of stinking up the place,” he thinks to himself, “But that dungeon needs a good cleaning anyhow.”
As he walks back to his chambers, the executor can faintly hear the wailing of his soon-to-be-dead prisoner. “Thank goodness I’ll finally be able to get some sleep.”
Vos Estis
Executor of Southasland
