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A Failed Escape


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Through the snow they rode, Kiramira having to cling onto him to stay atop the steed. He had nought but stumps for arms, his one eye droopily looking down to the snow below. Nonetheless, his mind worked well enough, plotting the best way to escape the situation he had found himself in.

A cold cell in Haense awaited him, interrogation, torture, possibly execution. Even though he was fifteen, Kiramira knew that he could still be killed. That man - what was his name? Pyotr had mentioned it out of hand.. Alex, yex, Alex. HE had attempted to blast Wu into into his demise with his magic, before that Ser stopped him. 

The horse slowed to a near stop, and Pyotr coughed slightly. Kiramira raised his arms, readying himself for the coming conflict.

Yam szam for all vy had to go thr- And Wu had heard enough, slamming the stumps of his arms into the neck of Pyotr. His head jerked forwards, letting out a cry of pain as he dropped the blasting potion in his hand. Kiramira had not noticed it.

The potion landed beneath the horse, sending shrapnel, the horse, Kiramira, and Pyotr into the air. Shards of glass embedded deep into their legs, and the horse writhed in agony, blood slowly collecting around the animal in a pool until it perished in the cold.

Pyotr let out a low groan, raising his eyes to see Kiramira beginning to crawl away from him. Vy - Vy stop! As he got to his feet, beginning to slowly stagger away, he heard the soft click of a crossbow. Retreating behind an icicle for cover, he hoped that Pyotr felt.. relatively guilty, where it made it difficult for him to hurt Kiramira - so he let out a childish cry, hoping to distract the poor man. No! Please!

Perhaps he had miscalculated, for Pyotr pushed himself to his feet; using the stock of the crossbow to do so. He weakly tossed it at the barely exposed form of Kiramira, bumping uselessly against his arm, or stump. He withdrew out a javelin, a metre long, stumbling towards Kiramira as he did so. Stop!

Kiramira turned. He cast his eyes down, moving towards Pyotr with a meek, apologetic look on his face. I'm sorry..

T - TOO MANY TR - TRICKS! Pyotr roared with rage, the amount of times that the kid had tricked him bringing about animalistic fury in the man. He pointed the javelin towards Kiramira's neck, moving to swap his sword to his right hand..

Kiramira moved quickly. Clearly, his 'surrender' had been a bluff. His feet swept under Pyotr's, sending the man tumbling into the powdery snow. As he fell, he pierced his left stump on the edge of the javelin, crying out in pain as he did so; but he had experienced worse, the memory of the elf still quite fresh in his mind. He yanked it to the side, other stump blocking the switching of the sword, said sword clattering uselessly to the ground.

Kiramira turned to run, as Pyotr hissed out a low warning. Vy shall meet vyr demise, child.. He coughed as he said it, withdrawing a mace from his belt, slowly beginning to swing it round his head. Kiramira noticed it not, underestimating the willpower and strength of Pyotr by a long margin. A mistake he wouldn't make again, if he had the chance to exploit it.

The mace went flying for his shoulder, and Kiramira turned too late; the mace smashing into his shoulder, almost instantly dislocating it. Kiramira yelled in pain, tumbling to the ground, crimson blood splattering over the white snow. Pyotr wasted no time, picking up his crossbow and aiming it at the child; loosing the bolt, hitting the right stump of the child. Kiramira wept in the snow, letting out another pained cry as he curled into a ball, sobbing and pleading forgiveness, doing his very best to appeal to the humanity of Pyotr.

Pyotr scrambled towards him, picking up his sword once more; pointing it at the head of the child, though he wasn't striking.

And then he did. Without a thought, he brought it down upon the right stump of Kiramira; cutting it away, drawing a scream of pain from the child. VE GAVE VY A CHANC- He was interrupted by a cough. FOR NEW LIFE! VY SPIT IN OUR FACES! And then it was blind rage, as he chopped at the left stump of Kiramira in a much more brutal fashion. It took three tries to fully cut off the limb, or what was left; Kiramira screaming all the while with pain. He looked to Kiramira, who was staring at him in a terrified fashion; and this irked him, so he poked out the eye of the child. Yet another scream echoed across the land, as Kiramira faded into unconsciousness; the only feeling in his body being pain.

This, too, pained Pyotr; and he inserted the blade into Kiramira's mouth, a clean slice cutting off the tongue of the child.

And Kiramira collapsed.

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Pyotr trembles each time he thinks of what happened upon that Northern Road. The trembling not only because of what he had done to Kiramira, but because of what will likely be done to himself in the upcoming months, or years even..

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