The Hanging Of A Smith

[ayresalex 517]

Darkness, wetness, and starvation. That was all Eirik knew for the past few years. He had been stuck in the Salvian dungeons for nearly 2 years now, before he was transferred to the Abresian dungeon. There he waited for execution. Execution for assaulting an Imperial official and the serial stealing of... anvils. Anvils. The life and blood source that fueled Kraltas economy. Steal an anvil, Lord Carrion commanded, we need the iron, he said. Eirik gladly executed the job. He enjoyed stealing anvils from the snotnosed bastards that lived in Salvus, until he got caught, that is. Thrown into prison, malnutrition did its work. His former built, stocky self withered down to a pale skeleton that he is today.

 

"Get 'uhp." the guard commanded, interrupting the silent methodical dripping of water, "Your time 'as come, eh? Gonna 'ang 'till your breath ceases, heh."

 

Eirik slowly stood from his straw mattress. his thin shirt hanging limply from bony shoulders. He shuffled towards the gate as the guard unlocked it, and opened it with a with moaning creak. The guard laughed some more, and prodded Eirik out unto the sunlight.

 

The sun...

 

Eirik smiled. He hadn't felt the light for years. He basked in it. Soaking in it's inescapable warmth. The sun brought memories back to him, sword fighting with his older cousin Aedric, and hunting with a distant brother Foy.

 

How bittersweet...

 

Eirik was led up to the gallows, where a crowd of peasants were already flocking to see the next days execution. 

 

"Hang!" One man said.

 

"Burn in 'ell!" shouted another.

 

The crowd all yelled various insults, but they meant nothing to him. Only words. Meaning of such words had long ago left him in the dungeons.

 

The noose was wrapped tight. Tighter than he had actually imagined, rougher too. He thought it would lazily hang around his neck, soft and warm to the touch. Yet it was itchy, too itchy, Eirik thought. It bothered him, how on the verge of death, all he could think of was the fabric and the itchiness of the rope.

 

A drop.

 

A tug.

 

A death.

 

Still itchy... How odd.

 

((Killing off the character I played when I was banned. Bad timing, when I was thrown in the dungeon then banned... Or good timing.. Depends depends.))

[Shadeleaf 1022]

((Short, sweet, to the point, and a marvelous rp post.))

[ayresalex 517]

((Short, sweet, to the point, and a marvelous rp post.))

[[ *bows ]]

[Friendly Guy 223]

((Well done a death that makes sense))

[Nefarious Aus Shitpost 891]

For some reason Svengal feels an itching on his neck. Then he gets back to gnawing on raw meat.

[V0idsoldier 1139]

((Very well written, actually. I liked the read a lot ^.^))

[Neri 3590]

[[ Anvil you continue to write awesome RP posts, I wonder... ]]

[ayresalex 517]

((Thanks guys!

[EddyTheBrave 643]

Damen simply stares at the sight of a good friend being hanged. He has a stern look upon him, expressionless as he continues to stare. He lets out a long sigh, consulting with himself if he should help. "I will probably only get killed, Abresi guards are brutal. But then again, it is Eirik. No, what am I thinking, I should speak to the Lord, he'd know what to do."

Damen shakes his head, throwing away the thought. He begins to turn his back away, shifting into the crowd as he makes his way out. "Drop!" He hears along with the shifting of the Blacksmith falling down, with the crowd cheering.

Damen slightly flinches, only continuing out more furiously, he thinks,

 

"Salvus will have one less anvil today, in honor of Eirik." Then begins to walk towards the disgusting city of Salvus.

[Lark 2227]

Lark looks at his predecessor with awe. "So this was the smith before me...." A single tear streaks down Lark's face, "I will work to honour him."

[ayresalex 517]

Lark looks at his predecessor with awe. "So this was the smith before me...." A single tear streaks down Lark's face, "I will work to honour him."

 

*dies a second death because that was so cheesy*

[Cracker 4570]

The Lord Carrion mumbled to himself as he flipped through assorted documents when Damen barged into his halls. In an exasperated tone the young strelt words fumbled forth of Eirik's death, a gruesome public hanging for a repeat thief. Siegmund spoke dryly when he took the information; Eirik was as loyal and true and honored the word "strelt" with his steadfast loyalty. He motioned Bogdan, his bird-keep, to fetch the stationary within the Krelmstad along with a fresh vial of inkstone. 

 

After an hour of working with quill and ink, Siegmund signed the parchment with his small, yet distinct signature and had Bogdan hang the notice upon the Kraltan Smithy.

 

"To all strelesy, retainers, and visitor of Kralta,

 

By decree of Lord Siegmund Sarkozic I of House Carrion, Marquess of Raev, Count-consort of Norfolk, Count-Regent of the Greymarsh, Baron-consort of Aldersberg, Lord Patriarch of House Sarkozy, Archon of House Basileus and heir to the dynasty of the White Eagle and the Crescent Moon of the Rhenyar, true-blood of the Barbanov and Kosanov dynasties and Lord Coercitor of the Holy Oren Empire

 

The Kraltan smithshop will be named in honor of Eirik of Kralta, loyal strelt, smith and retainer of Lord Carrion. It shall be formally dubbed "The Forge of Eirik Snapneck". Let his death be immortalized among all of Kralta, for despite his sinful theft of property, his ability to arm and defend Kralta in it's darkest hours will be memorized by all Kraltan and Raevir people."

 

Various peasants chattered about the sign, as Lorik reads it out for the town. Each has their own deviation to call the smithy; some refer to it as "Snapnecks", others "The Hung Hammer", and some even continuing to refer to it as the Kraltan Forge. 

[Korth :-) 52]

"The Hung Hammer" 

 

Duncan sighs, shaking his head. "Hanged, rather. Eirik was not tapestry." he mutters.

[SebastianA500 17]

((+ 1 from me.))

[Moot 1719]

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