Execution Of Yanetian Thoruntor

[Gaius ~ Sertorius Cagan 62]

 

They
seemed to have multiplied like a myth come true, for surely the Spawn
of Horen could reproduce with more surety than the Elfish-folk, but the
amount of knights who came forth to challenge Yanetian after being
spotted by Peter Chivay were numerous. With only Peter Chivay thrusting
his sword sloppily as if he were fighting in mass formation, Yanetian
was able to spin his falx blade and divert any blows whilst spinning
about. Yanetian could appear as a dervish given enough room and become
difficult to strike, albeit he had enjoyed the soul-raising spinning all
too much to realize the greaved leg lifting towards his head; knocking
him onto his back. Raising the falx like a pike, the one who had kicked
him, Arthal; backed away from the reaping blade protruding towards him.
Lifting himself up, Yanetian began to count the knights in front of him,
counting three.

With one large, overhead swing of the falx,
Yanetian starts his revolution towards Peter; the falx whirring through
the air. Feeling the grip slip from out his hands, Yanetian catches a
glimpse of a fourth knight who parried and carried the falx outwardly
and out of his own hands. The butting of a sword handle fells Yanetian
onto the ground and a foot clamps the Elf to the ground as hoorah-ing is
heard with bellowing voices. Yanetian looks up as his helm is yanked
away, he feels revolted at the gasps and overheard himself being called
the High Commander. Having been shackled, Yanetian is loaded into a
covered carriage with no means to decipher where he is to be taken to;
only upon arriving with the sound of uproar molesting his Elfish ears is
he able to recognize that he is being taken into a city.

Feeling
rough hands yank at his chains, Yanetian bounces gracefully from the
carriage with unbound legs and is led up onto a raised gallow. He looks
out with widened eyes at the masses of humans, but even more the fact
that they tussle and bicker; like a farm of livestock. He looks to his
left to see Peter Chivay trying to call and calm the crowds.

"Your people bicker like toddlers playing in dirt, but worry not, the Elfs are just the same way"

He
looks out over the crowd, awaiting them to ease their jostling and
spots a man identified by some of the Roses on the platform with him as
'Throdo' and overhears him asking why the White Roses did not torture
him. He nods his head towards Throdo's direction...

"Fellow, will you shut your mouth, you seem to think that my lips slip easy!"

With
that, he begins to chuckle as he notices the man mumble under his
breathe and lets Throdo's face meld with the rest of the crowd staring
in astonishment. Yanetian looks to Peter for allowance of a few words
and are afforded them. He walks to the edge of the platform, Peter's
hand gripping his forearm to ensure he doesn't jump, Yanetian begins his
words...

"Your
ploughing a feuding race, they are like children ever-complaining... I
was one of very few Elfs willing to take a fight to these Roses, yet as I
am captured; they have the honor of..."

He looks to Peter with a stern glance, whistling,

"Do you want the honors or do you want me to stand here mewling like a woman?"

Peter
looks at him with an amused look and roughly grabs at Yanetian's neck
and sets him against the wooden beam rimming the platform. Hearing the
grunt of exertion as a White Rose lifts up their sword, Yanetian takes
one last look towards the sky before the sword is splintering his neck
and separates his head from his shoulderbone cleanly.

[DelaneyG 1279]

Arthal nods, keeping the crowd under control. He'd already thrown one man off the gallows, and was prepared for more. As the headless body was pushed off the platform, he lifted it, loading it into the cart. He climbed in after it, watching two more follow suit.

They rode off, to hang the body in the field of Tee's.
 

[Moot 1719]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.