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Who denounced me? My victim, my friend, the one I was torturing the chamber was my only friend but that could not stop my hand nor I could end his sufferings, cursed be the King, the Soldier, the Labourer and the Priest, the four Gods and cursed be the God of slaves.

I fear sin no longer as I know I will face soon the beginning of my unending torment, so I will enjoy my blasphemy, and anyway what hope could a drow half breed hated above and below earth.

My friend who I knew since we knock doors and ran, who eased my soul when I was called bully, this I was torturing as that was my job.

I should have never accepted that proposal, not for the murder, as maybe hundreds I had already sent to the land of silence, most in long and agonizing pain, not for her being innocent as many of the impaled are, but for her power. Curse me for being that stupid, all brawn no brain. It went fairly smoothly, my friend was then handsome and had a deserving reputation between the yet to be married girls, a mature lady such as our victim could do nothing but fall to his charms, but by the bed of their pleasure I was waiting. One movement of my hands and her neck was broken and then I faded away leaving her naked, exposed, her head dropped awkardly, but my friend had been charmed. Curse you Goddess and praise you for your revenge. A thousand women he had disgraced and he had to fall for a middle aged of a humble beauty so he bathed, clothed and placed her on bed like if sleeping and then he cut his veins. Gods, if at least he had asked me! The guards found him still alive.

Had she not been the woman of a senator my friend would have been left to bleed to death, alas, he was sent to me, to me!, cursed be the four Gods as cursed I am.

Gibe, my friend, was resolved not to implicate me, but I could not trust my life on him. Kill him? Kill the only one who I trusted? Yes, yes, yes! If only I could... a swift movement of my hand and it would be over, no more pain, nothing to worry about, only that nobody would believe I ever made a mistake and then well how I killed the lady, not many could have matched my skill. If only he'd kill himself, but we dont let anybody to short his pain in the dungeons. I could only hope

I started with fire, the usual stuff, red hot irons on his feet. The magistrate questioned, insulted and threatened him but to no avail. Normally I'd take great pride in the way I delivered pain like a performer would play its lyre, but not this time. I went on with weights. Pretty standard too, tie him up to an open frame, legs and arms extended, and hang weights from his elbows and knees.

He then confessed our patron, another senator, of course that important citizen would not be questioned in the dungeons, instead he would swear to be innocent and he would be officialy belived, though he'd better watch his back from now on. I looked at the magistrate for if the interrogation were to stop, almost begging for it, happily he did: end his life, and so I did swiftly with a movement of my hands, like only I knew how to...

And so I ended up barefeet, dirty and almost naked, in irons, in this filthy dungeon, awaiting for the coming execution at the pleasure of my former comrades.

Playing is the most important thing life...


The following comments are for "The executioner"
by ursus

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