Post by The Sergeant / Alisha on May 3, 2018 7:46:17 GMT
"Rope burn. Sun burn. Urine burn." A man with short blonde hair repeated once more. He cried for a short time struggling at the ropes which bound his wrists together. No use. He then started again, in the same pattern he had for the last four fours, calling to the sky "Save me, save me, save me. From rope burn, sun burn, urnine burn. Save me, save me -"
The man blonde man didn't see, but others did, as through the mass of prisoners silently strode an Orc with black markings on his naked dark chest, and and old arrow head pierced through his thick right ear. The Orc carried the broken wooden handle from a spear or lance, but just splinted wood pointed at the end. This is the end the Orc struck through the blonde man's neck. His crying stopped and the body fell onto other prisoners, warm blood soaking the clothes of those still alive.
From a distance, the man with no name, although many called him Sergeant, saw this, as he sat in a group of other prisoners. His weapons and armour had been added to the Orcs war wagon or taken as personal trophies, along with all his gold and equipment. Although he had been able to hide a ring which he wasn't able to get back until a day later after a rather messy exercise at his neighbouring prisoners looked on with disgust.
This group of battered prisoners said little and had done for several days. Until a soldier he had fought with at the battle whispered, "Sergent, what do we do?"
"No fucking idea," The Sergent replied. He looked around at the remaining elves and women amoung the prisoners. Already many of the women had been taken and almost half the elves butchered for their ears, although some had hid within the mass of prisoners. The Sergent flexed his muscles under the tight rope on his wrists, "But I'm sure these Orcs have got some nasty plans."
In the distance the town of Daring continued to burn.
The man blonde man didn't see, but others did, as through the mass of prisoners silently strode an Orc with black markings on his naked dark chest, and and old arrow head pierced through his thick right ear. The Orc carried the broken wooden handle from a spear or lance, but just splinted wood pointed at the end. This is the end the Orc struck through the blonde man's neck. His crying stopped and the body fell onto other prisoners, warm blood soaking the clothes of those still alive.
From a distance, the man with no name, although many called him Sergeant, saw this, as he sat in a group of other prisoners. His weapons and armour had been added to the Orcs war wagon or taken as personal trophies, along with all his gold and equipment. Although he had been able to hide a ring which he wasn't able to get back until a day later after a rather messy exercise at his neighbouring prisoners looked on with disgust.
This group of battered prisoners said little and had done for several days. Until a soldier he had fought with at the battle whispered, "Sergent, what do we do?"
"No fucking idea," The Sergent replied. He looked around at the remaining elves and women amoung the prisoners. Already many of the women had been taken and almost half the elves butchered for their ears, although some had hid within the mass of prisoners. The Sergent flexed his muscles under the tight rope on his wrists, "But I'm sure these Orcs have got some nasty plans."
In the distance the town of Daring continued to burn.