The Thief

[Bijo]

NOTE: violence (and brief minimal dirty talk)

vii
The old prisoner, the old man in the next cell, stood holding the cell bars in the deep dungeon as he watched every move occurring afront his very eyes for as far as he could see. He was in fear as he saw Hensen, one of the good innocent compassionate guards, standing gainst Longmore the sadistic one.

“You will release him now Longmore,” Hensen commanded confidently.

“Release him?” the sadistic guard replied. “Why release him if he serves me a purpose? I simply do not comprehe--”

“Release him now!” as Hensen's voice became louder.

“Release him or what?” as Longmore rose and turned to finally gaze upon his foe whilst the prisoner lay painfully on the vile ground with blood still seeping from his face. His head lay in a small pool of blood.

“Must I bring forth my superior fighting skills upon you?” said Hensen while he gently placed his hand upon his sheathed sword, softly petting it as if it were his most precious object.

“Hmmm. Heh heh heh,” the sadist guard grinned. “So it is me you are to truly defeat?” said Longmore with disrespect.

Hensen did not reply. He merely stood idly awaiting Longmore's move. As he fixed his eyesight upon the sadist he observed him well. The situation informed him that Longmore did not retrieve his sword -– it still found itself in the cell wherein he stood in-between the beaten prisoner and himself. It would minimally require few seconds to effectively retrieve it and then to be battle-ready. Knowing this he could have advantageous oppurtunities. As he held his hand on his sword he looked at Longmore. He then looked behind the guard and down to check the position of the sword.

“Huh??” Longmore softly exclaimed as he noticed Hensen's eyes sneakily gazing upon the ground. He immediately moved backwards into the cell to quickly retrieve his weapon. While this occurred Hensen unsheathed his sword and ran for Longmore.

“Yes! Kill him! Kill him!” the old man in the other cell yelled violently as he saw Hensen go.

“You have tortured enough people, fool. The time of your defeat has arrived!” exclaimed Hensen whilst he prepared to swing his sword at Longmore's neck. “Raaaahhhh!” he yelled as he ran while Longmore was still in a backwards position but quickly reacted. Cling! Cling! Clang! Longmore barely escaped the early fatal blow as his sword clinged into Hensen's.

“Take that! And that!” the sadist guard yelled. The two men fought vehemently in the cell which was approximatly five by five metres. It was a slippery one due to the moisture buildup and the fresh blood of the prisoner.

“Yes! Hensen! Behead the bastard!” the old man screamed in a craze as he could not visually notice them but only audibly. The sword-clinging and screams of battle only excited his emotions but what was the most stimulating is his wish which was for Longmore, the terrible sadist, to die. But he suddenly noticed silence.

Back in the cell the two men stopped fighting. They stood against the left and right walls with their weapons intact, and ready, staring at each other with great caution. The beaten prisoner situated in the center, hardly conscious in his blood, the situation was a risky one.

“What are you doing? Fight, fight!!” the old man yelled out of sight as he did not take kindly to the cessation thereof.

“Shut up, old fool!” replied Longmore as he gazed upon his foe with his eyes scanning every little move keeping predictions in mind. “When I finish this simple unworthy guard, you shall be next,” Longmore threatingly informed the old prisoner. “I will enjoy beating you once more against the wall, old fool!”

The old man was silent, but suddenly started encouraging Hensen once more as he heard battle sounds commence. “Yes! Yes! He must die!! Arrrgh, kill him now!!!” He could barely control himself.

Longmore maneuvered towards his enemy and feinted a left stab whereafter he quickly retracted and made a right swing downwards. Hensen barely deflected sideways as he slipped and fell down. It now became a static power struggle with Longmore having the upper hand as he stood greedily over his arch-foe.

“Hnnnngggh! Arrrrrhhhh.....” they both uttered whilst attempting to push the other out of power balance.

“Admit defeat, fool. It is I who shall be victorious,” groaned Longmore as their swords held themselves powerfully in check.

“Hnnnggggg!” as Hensen sought to add a way to imbalance his attacker. “You are merely a sadist. A pathetic excuse for human life.”

Suddenly Longmore felt something attempting to displace his balance. “Hm???” as he looked behind him. It was the prisoner whose head he had just beaten onto the filthy ground who now, too, sought a way to kill him.

“You too, now?” as Longmore questioned the prisoner's ability. The beaten one took his legs and tried to trip him as he laid on the ground in pain.

“Arrrrggghhh!!!” the prisoner yelled. “Die! Die! Bastard!!”

This distraction proved sufficient to provide Hensen with slight advantage. He used his foot to push Longmore away who felt backwards over the prisoner as he landed atop him and injured him once more with his heavy armour and bodily weight.

“Arrrrrhhhh!” the prisoner screamed in pain as his bloody head was pushed down once again onto the ground.

Hensen took his chance and stood up to thrust his sword at Longmore who deflected the attack. Cling cling! Clang cling!

“Remove yourself!” the downed prisoner yelled painfully.

“You see that, Longmore?! You cannot take two at the same time, now can you?! Hahahahaha!” the old man laughed violently in the other cell.

Whilst Longmore parried Hensen's attacks, he made certain the prisoner could not assist. He rose and quickly descended in order to injure him with his heavy weight. Boom! The prisoner screamed once more in pain, but never gave up. He suddenly noticed an old potsherd near him and took it. With great effort he moved his arm backwards and upwards to try stab Longmore in the head, but it proved difficult.

Tired, Hensen kept battling Longmore while hearing violent laughter and encouragement from the old man. Hensen was not as physically strong as Longmore, thus his fatigue arrived sooner. Even therewith he continued his attacks. Cling cling! KACHUNG! TRRRZZZK!!

“No!!!!” Hensen exclaimed. His sword was parried away as it fell few metres from him into the wall then onto the floor. He defensively moved back away from Longmore who then eagerly stood up to engage and prepared to violently land his weapon into his foe's neck.

“Ahahahha!” Longmore smiled. “The time comes.” Without hesitating he moved his weapon upwards to strike, but as he tried this he felt a terrible pain in his right cheek and a sudden weight upon his whole physique. This occurrence led his sword to painfully graze Hensen alongside the face and would leave an ugly long diagional scar -– Hensen fell down in pain against the wall and yelled as he tried to keep the blood from exiting his facial wound. He put his hands onto the ugly wound as if hopelessly attempting to ease the suffering while his legs moved uncontrollably by the shock.

A scar was being put onto Longmore's own face as well as the angry beaten prisoner jumped him and used the small potsherd to damage him. The prisoner's face was full of blood and wounds as he inflicted cutting motions onto Longmore who desparately tried shaking off his besieger. The not-so-sharp potsherd had already inflicted cutting damage but Longmore held the prisoner's attacking arm as he saw the sherd close to his eye.

“Die! Die!” the prisoner yelled moving his legs as he was in mid-air while holding Longmore.

“Yes! Yes! He must die!” the old man screamed once more as if replying.

The struggle between the attacking prisoner and Longmore forced sword removal. It fell down and instead of retrieving it the sadistic guard decided to deal with the current threat first. For a weakened prisoner, this one had much power to attack an armoured dungeon guard. It must be his violent emotions enabling him to execute this bold action.

He punched, he cut, he kicked, as Longmore received facial damage, though the evil guard did make a right fist held by his left hand, moved both arms leftwards and then quickly rightwards and back to hit his attacker in the body with his elbow. The prisoner did not cease but only grew bolder and attempted to bite Longmore's face as he received thrusts of pain into his weakened stomach.

“Rrrrraarrgh!!” Longmore yelled as he felt intense pain. He quickly looked at Hensen and noticed he was still down against the wall with uncontrollable torment. He then moved backwards as quick as he could to bash his attacker into the wall. He succeeded, but as the prisoner's back was hit thereby he did not cease attacking his face with the sherd. Longmore moved forwards and back once again to do the same thing. The prisoner yelled in agony but still did not cease. Boom! Once more and the prisoner finally let go and landed onto the floor, tired and beaten, against the wall, as the potsherd made a glassy sound upon impact after it left the prisoner's hand.

Longmore went forward slightly and fell to his knees with horrible facial wounds aching him badly. He became full of uncontrollable rage and turned around to look at the prisoner while the old man asked what happened.

“Shut up, old man! And you,” he said with great disgust as he redirected himself to his nearby foe. “You will pay.” He moved on his knees to regard the prisoner's face from up-close. He started beating him once again. Kapow! Kapow! He punched him in the bloody face. But since Longmore was a dirty sadist he thought of different ways to hurt people. “Thus you wanted to damage my face?” he asked in anger. “Well, it is I who shall damage yours.”

From the ground Longmore picked up the potsherd that was used upon him and held it teasingly afront the prisoner's eyes so that he might behold it just afore he would feel it. “Do you see this simple, yet effective, tool?” Longmore asked the prisoner who was panting and hardly observing his foe. “Yes, yes, of course you recognize it: it is the tool you had just finished using upon me.” The prisoner slowly moved his head and eyes to finally regard Longmore who came closer to intimidate him. The prisoner made a gesture for him to come even closer as if he wanted to tell him something.

“Come here,” he said weakened. Longmore was surprised but approached and waited. “Let me whisper....” the prisoner said softly. Longmore confidently came closer and allowed him to tell him discreetly, as he thought himself victorious. “You must.... know....”

“Yes?” Longmore replied softly as he carefully heeded the man's words.

“...you must....” as he coughed, “...know... that...”

“Yes?”

The prisoner placed his left hand atop Longmore's shoulder and his right hand on his right shoulder. “I...”

“Yes????”

“...many a time I had my way with your bitch of a mother. She sucked me and sucked me until she could suck no more. I took her from behind when she was positioned like a dog. It felt good as I shockingly came inside her as she begged and screamed for more of my thrusting.... and my seed wherefrom you spawned, you son of a whore!”

Longmore could not believe what he heard. But another thing he did believe: the sudden and extreme agony he sensed when the prisoner unexpectedly attacked him by biting his ear. He screamed in pain as he tried to keep the attacker off him.

“Arrrrgh!!!! Get off me! Get off me!!!” Longmore pushed the prisoner's head powerfully against the wall but this action made the prisoner to automatically take his ear with him. “Ahhhhhhh!!!!! Rrrraaarrrrghh!!!!!” Longmore screamed. “Nooo!! Arrrrgh!!! You will pay immediately!” In uncontrollable rage he grabbed the prisoner's head, who spat out the piece of ear into his face, and banged it into the wall a few times. He then stood up and kicked him against the body until his victim fell and laid down. Then he, almost disorientated, left the cell to search for the nearby torch. After having found it he returned.

“See this?” Longmore asked violently. Without waiting he grabbed the head again and positioned the prisoner in an upwards sit to the wall and held his head strong. He then carefully applied the fires of the torch upon his face, after which he retracted it, only to do so again.

“Nooooooo!!! Nooooooo!!!!” the prisoner screamed.

“Yes, yes. It is I who command here, not you! Not you, not the old man next door, and not H--” as he was interrupted by a powerful punch from behind into his head. The torch flew aside and Hensen kicked his foe repeatedly. Longmore, being kicked, crawled for safety but Hensen took his head and banged it onto the floor as he kept it near the fire of the torch. Longmore screamed in agony and now felt the fiery pain he had been inflicting upon his prisoner. With difficulty he grabbed the torch and threw it backwards at Hensen whose face was hit as he quickly fell back.

Both Longmore and Hensen stood up and idly stared at each other once more scanning every little move.

“How do you like that beautiful cut I made on your pretty face, Hensen?” Longmore asked jokingly.

“Hrmm...” grumbled Hensen.

“Perhaps I shall give you one more, my friend.”

The two men suddenly went again and grabbed each other by the heads. Longmore, being slightly stronger, headbutted Hensen who became more and more dizzy, but he quickly reacted by very rawly and disorientedly dodging the last headbutt by going downwards and grabbing Longmore around the torso. He then commenced running and forcing his enemy, who looked behind him while arghing and extending his arm, powerfully into the wall. Longmore's head bashed thereinto and left a blood stain thereupon. But the sadist did not give up. He elbowed his foe on the head whereafter he stood him up and punched him across the face. Longmore then crouched and pulled his leg after which Hensen fell with his head hard onto the ground. But as his leg was held by Longmore he used his other leg to kick him in the face right atop the place where the prisoner, who was still exhausted and idle, inflicted damage with the potsherd. Longmore fell back and down holding his head as if to ease the pain.

Three men in a cell. Two of them guards and one a prisoner. They were too broken, hurt, damaged, and fatigued to move let alone continue the fighting. They simply laid there exhausted while occasionally uttering a sigh, grumbling, or a cough of ache.

A long part showing an exhaustive and shocking battle but it is easy and fast to read through. It describes horrible suffering that goes unnoticed in a part of a dungeon.

I have the whole basic plot, the big picture, of the story figured out and am seeking to fill up the details as quickly and effectively as possible as I improvise it to befit the big picture.

As you may have noticed I prefer very descriptive language. This scene especially requires it so that the reader is to be shocked by the horror.

Please provide critique.

[Bijo]

viii
“You have truly witnessed this horror, sir?” asked the resident as he stood next to the bed.

“Indeed,” replied the old man as he lay idly. “It is I who...” The old man coughed. “That part of the dungeon was but a corner of the deep darkness. The cells were roughly five or six metres in length and width. So much darkness and only little light in the form of scattered torches.

“Did Longmore beat you too?”

“Yes,” he replied with hesitation.

“How could a sadist beat even an old man -- a defenseless prisoner.

“It... it was not I the cell harbored: I was...” he coughed again. “I am Hensen,” said the old man.

“It is true?”

“Yes,” replied the young woman as she stroke back the gray hairs of her father whereafter she directed her attention at the resident. “Has he not been noble to fight the sadist guard?”

“Yes, yes indeed he has been. You bear many scars, sir.”

“Please go,” the old man said to his daughter.

“But daddy....”

“No: I do not wish you to hear more of these horrors. Descend and await me in the bar.”

“Yes, daddy,” replied the girl. “Thank you for your aid, noble sir,” as she bowed to the young man and left. The two men watched as she exited and shut the door.

“My daughter. She is so precious to me,” said the old man.

“I understand.”

“Have you no offspring, young man? You in your thirties certainly must have produced desendants, not?”

The young man shrugged and turned around as he regarded the floor at his feet. The old man, lying in bed, noticed the suffering as he began to speak, “Would it not lighten the weight upon your shoulders to speak of it?” The young man did not reply. “Many a year I have suffered myself, and many a time a sense of relief came over me as I released my words of pain to those willing to listen.” The young walked towards the bed and sat on the side looking at the door and the ground.

“What say you?” the old man asked.

“I...” as he shrugged. He took a deep breath and commenced his story:

I like how it went because there are still many questions left and the reader can keep guessing.

And chapter 3 has been added, but only censored to a minimum. If you desire the full chapter, let me know

[Bijo]

ix
Many a moon past I lived in the town of Draal many miles afar. There existed more towns, five in totality all connected in a circle, and all of them were autonomously reigned by town heads. Small efficient economies, reasonable schooling, decent military forces.

But the power these small authorities wielded changed them. Nay, it did not change them: it exposed their true nature. It exposed their corruption. It was darkness consuming them and it grew bold. With this darkness, as they grew more powerful, their mutual fear rose.

War ensued and many fell. The town I lived in was the strongest militarily seen. It was only natural for the four other towns to temporarily ally themselves and attack us. And attack they did. One night the sky filled with fireballs and flaming arrows raining down upon the whole town. Our defensive forces were outnumbered and outpositioned as the enemy encircled us all.

It was horrible. Men, women, innocent children fell as rains of arrows struck them mercilessly to the ground. Giant flaming fireballs flew and destroyed many houses upon impact. Some were lucky enough to be hit thereby directly: it ended their suffering fast, but some would only be grabbed by it partially and these were in pain.

Our soldiers fought as lions as they defended the walls. The foe deployed ladders to enter as well as battering rams to our gates. Our archers took many of them by arrow, but their numbers were simply too great. The breaking point was being reached as they finally commenced battling on the walls while the gates broke. Our soldiers fought bravely and held them off long.

As I saw fires burning down the library, I was running through the streets and grabbed a longsword and a shield from a fallen friendly soldier. I looked at the main gates and noticed my fellow soldiers perishing –- it was a matter of time afore the foe would break the defence.

Other citizens heeded me and instead of fleeing they, too, picked up arms and followed me as I went. Enraged, we stormed the main gate with our weapons firm, our shields strong, and our hearts stout. As we ran to replace our slaughtered defence force I raised my weapon high and yelled as I never had before. The warrior-like spirit took over and I landed my sword's forte forcefully into a foe's neck through his armour. He was instantly beheaded and from his corpse, where his head used to be, his blood spatted onto my face.

I fought like a madman to protect my town wherein I had lived ever since my birth. My fellow citizens suddenly saw me as a leader whom they trusted. We fought bravely together, almost as a band of brothers.

But during the fighting I forgot about my family. I had to secure their safety. Instead of keeping up the fight I fled to seek them. I told a fellow fighting citizen, the barman who accepted, to take over and I randomly selected a man to accompany me to my home.

We ran and ran as we left the battle. We encountered scattered enemy soldiers who somehow got through the main positions. Upon seeing us they immediately attacked. Our rage and adrenalin enabled us to kill them swiftly. I struck my sword into the soldier's stomach as he screamed in pain when I turned my sword and retracted it sideways. My accompanying citizen followed my ways and violently swept his across a foe's throat who then uncontrollably fell to the ground with his hands covering the wound.

We advanced and arrived at the calmer parts of town. Bodies of the slain lay scattered through the streets with buildings ruined. One could hear the crackling of the fires as houses stood ablaze. We moved as quietly as possible, then my fellow fighter gestured me to listen. I listened carefully and heard vague sounds of people arguing. It sounded as if one or more were endangered.

We quickly sought the sound and arrived at a corner. Further up the road there was a fire and few people. I looked carefully once more and recognized them as four enemy soldiers. They were harassing defenseless young women and girls. I looked carefully once more: they were being raped! Some soldiers were laughing and some young women and girls who were not being violated laid on the ground idly and beaten.

We decided to engage the foe. We split up, one left, one right, and silently approached them. One of the soldiers was beating a young woman's face as he raped her aggressively. It was a horror to witness as she slapped him across the face and resisted. His peers stood and laughed while some of them were busy raping other young women who screamed in terror.

We had to be fast. We moved and they did not see us approach. But as we went my battle partner accidentally stepped slipped and fell. He lost his sword as it clashed with great noise to the ground. Three of the enemy soldiers quickly rose and engaged us with their swords. We again fought like possessed tigers as we heard the screams of the poor women. The leader of the soldiers yelled at his remaining soldier who was too occupied to assist them as he had too much pleasure.

As the three tried to storm us I quickly exclaimed to my partner to move afore the foe's weapon would strike him. He rolled over and utilized his shield in a quick manner to deflect the enemy's powerful sword attack. The other two engaged me. The first one, who approached me eagerly and foolishly, I quickly beheaded, but only three-fourth, as I stabbed my sword into his throat whereafter I cut him out sideways. Blood gushed out as he fell and immediately died.

His friend was smarter and, while he ran, threw his sword at me which I with a quick reflex obstructed with my shield. His sword almost hit my head as it penetrated the shield which I then rid myself of by flinging it at him. During his approach he grabbed his other weapon, a heavy mace, while he eluded my distant attack. He swung his mace to my torso but I deflected it fast, but only to be hit in the head by his quick fist which struck me so badly I spat blood instantly. My battle partner, who still lay atop the ground with merely a shield while their leader attacked him, yelled at me to take caution, while the soldier who was still raping a young girl finally stood up and prepared himself for battle.

My current foe did the same mace-at-torso move as before as did I the same deflecting parry and he struck me once more as I received a bloody nose. Once again he did the same but I dodged him a few metres afar and threw my sword into his side. He held his hand at the impact location and fell to his knees after which he fell totally to the ground.

Then the other soldier who was now battle-ready ran at me hastily with his sword high. I had no weapon thus I picked up the fallen heavy mace and threw it uncontrollably at him. I was lucky for he was hit directly in the torso and fell down in pain by the great shock. I ran to him and tripped over a chain. I retrieved it, stood up, moved the chain to increase swinging speed and slashed it into the side of his head. He yelled in torment and simply lay there wounded as he held his head.

My battle partner yelled at me to come assist him. The leader of the soldiers still was unable to kill him as his attacks were still parried by the shield. I stood away from him, swung my chain once more and hit it into the back of his head whereafter he fell down as he screamed from pain. My peer then rose and utilized his shield to beat the living hell out of him, but he kept him alive and so was the other one.

While he guarded the two soldiers I went to see the young women and girls who were beaten and raped. They cried and cried as they could not believe the horror they had just experienced and horror of our killing their aggressors. As I kneeled one of the young women went to me followed by few others. I recognized her: it was my neighbour, a good friend of the family. With hardly any clothing and having been ravaged, she sobbed heavily and put her arms around me. What could I do? I comforted her and told her to stay calm, but she only cried more.

“Your wife.....” she sobbed.

“My wife?” I asked with surprise. She continued sobbing uncontrollably.

“...they.... they took her....”

At that moment I did not hear what she was precisely saying. Perhaps I did not want to hear what she said.

“....they took Jhia...” she said as I felt her tears streaming across my cheek.

Disbelief came over me when I heard that. I was in shock.

“Where is she?!?” I asked hastily.

“I... she.....”

“Where is she?!?!” as I slightly shook her.

She sat on the ground, her sobbing a bit lessened, she then pointed to the left of her, behind her. I... I moved quickly. It was only ten metres away as I saw a lone being on the ground. Torn up clothes and unconscious. I approached the person quickly and I sat on the ground to turn the person into my arms to see: it was Jhia, my young wife whom I had married not long ago.

She was beaten, ravaged, unconscious and her face full of scars. I held her in my arms as I sat there with her head on my lap, moved my free hand across her hair and forehead and almost wiggled her like a little baby would be in the arms of its parent, only I did so with less control.

“Jhia! Jhia! Wake up!” I yelled at her in my anger.

Her eyes were still closed and she did not respond. I could barely control myself. A tear exited from my eye and fell onto her face while I held her body to mine.

“Husband...”

I quickly looked to see her awake.

“Jhia!”

“...husband...” she coughed. “...I cannot....”

“Ssshhh sshhh,” I whispered softly.

“...I want to tell you...”

She painfully moved to put her right arm around me as she looked me in the eyes coughing once more as I cried a little.

“...your tears... they... they taste salt, my dear...”

As I heard her talk to me my head started to hurt even more from pain.

“...don't...” as she coughed, “....forget... me....”

“I will not forget you,” I whispered as I moved my hand across her face, her cheeks, her lips, to clean her.

“...you must... you must know..... that... I have...”

As she said these last words I felt her arm weaken around my neck, and a lump suddenly formed itself in my throat: I knew she was gone now, but I did not want to believe it. I still held her, embraced her, and wiggled her like a little baby, my baby, but she would not come to life, as much as I wished it. I shed many tears that touched her lifeless being, as lifeless as the ground beneath us. I wept and I wept, and shed so many tears so quickly, I could taste them in my mouth. They indeed tasted very salt... they tasted like pure pain and agony. If she could only kiss me once more with her beautiful lips...

I carefully rested her upon the ground. I stood up and walked quickly to my battle partner who still guarded the two soldiers. As I moved I, without even looking, picked up a sword standing vertically in the ground as my battle partner regarded me.

“Friend, what are you--”

“Shut up!” I yelled as I wasted no seconds approaching the two captured soldiers as I pushed him away. We still heard the main battle rage in the background. I now stood afore the two who were kneeled as I held my sword strong and my ally stood behind them with his weapon ready.

“Who ravaged my wife?” I asked. But there was no answer. I heavily punched the soldier of lower rank in the face. They did not take kindly and looked at me angrily. I then kicked the other one in the head. No response. I quickly swung my rusty sword into the lower rank's head. It fell off violently, rolled and landed just next to the leader. The body fell afront him as blood squirted out of it into his face as he closed his eyes and mouth in disgust.

“Will you talk?” I asked threatingly. There was no answer.

“Grab the mace,” I commanded to my ally behind him.

“Hm? The mace?”

“Grab it now! It is behind you!”

As I guarded the war criminal my ally retrieved the weapon and gave it to me. I threw away the sword and held the mace in my hand and moved it up and down as if I were about to pick a fight. My adrenalin level increased even more and my ally suddenly raised his arm to protect his head when he moved backwards away from me as he received a splash of blood into his face.

The war criminal was shocked, that mere second, as I mercilessly swung the mace into his arm which immediately detached from his body as he fell to the ground. He screamed in agony but was not dead yet as he begged for his life. In my rage and hunger for vengeance I then smashed the weapon into his back as I heard him yell once again. I hit him again.

“Please! Please!” the war criminal yelled.

I turned him around and put him on his back. My ally was disgusted and almost vomited. I did not waste time anymore and watched the shocking expression on the enemy soldier as I landed my mace on the man's head. The blood splatter hit my ally who went to the ground, looked away and vomited as he heard the thuds of my violent mace landings into the enemy's corpse.

After a minute he came to me and attempted to stop me. He took the weapon but I resisted. He still took it for I was too exhausted to continue. He threw it away and grabbed me as I then commenced kicking the corpse in anger. He moved me away and as I was too far to continue kicking I fell to the ground and cried. My tears and screams of agony were grand and my ally put his hand onto my shoulder. It was too much horror for me as I heard his voice tell me...

“There there, my friend. Worry not, for you have made a new brother today.”

Again long but worth it I think.

I apply descriptive language to this piece where the man who lives in the inn tells his story to the old sick man. I hope my attempt at drama is sufficient and clear. Perhaps it could be even better depicted. The end appears a bit hasty for my taste as I have reread it: possible redoing necessary.