(M)We the Damned IC
Rated M for the promises of blood, violence, monstrous sacrifice, language, slavery, fantasy racism, all around prejudice, perverted sexuality, and other such adult themes.
This is a very nonPC RP loaded with triggers...you have been warned.
We the Damned
We the Damned
Not for Pleasure
Or of Love
Promise to protect and continue
For the survival of our Species
We lay our lives and bodies to task
We shall bring humanity back from the edge of the night
Or die in it's defense.
Dawn...or at least the closest thing to dawn you can get when the sun is trapped behind a completely black disc. In a world with no sun you tell the time by the meals you eat, it was between dinner and breakfast and the Great Northern Tribe was beginning it’s day. Hunters and Foragers were dressing in the heavy camouflage they must use to hide from the Gum Hunters and wild beasts. Offspring were darting around their legs asking questions, saying good-byes, and asking for monster parts. Even in the twilight of hell kids will always be kids, in other parts of the Tribe the sounds of birth and rutting could be heard playing through the din of camplife.
The news of births were once a reason to be joyous, but for some of the camp it is simply business as usual. One such man is the Wizard Mortimer Grimm, in one hand a small blue rope was clutched and in the other was the pommel of his sword. He had just spent the night aiding the Birthing Witches in bringing his sixteenth child into the world and his fourth male offspring. But like all of the others the child was only a Half-Blood. He showed signs of magical power, but no where near strong enough to be considered an Heir to the Grimm bloodline. The boy would take his female parent's name of Maxwell and be trained as a “Gifted” Fighter. Using blade and quick magical signs to be of use. The mother Danielle is one of the best close-up fighters the Great Northern Tribe knew so the boy who she convinced Mortimer to let be named Mortimer as well would be an asset.
But Danielle was resting so it fell on the Wizard Grimm to deliver the news to the Records hut. He’d been to this hut so many times he could walk the path blindfolded. It was near the top of the small hill on the East side of the camp very near the Druid’s home. Which made sense since his wife Magda was in charge of it all. The ancient pair are one of the very few married couples known in the tribes of the Damned, like all religious ceremonies it lost nearly all of it’s meaning and point when the sun stopped shining. It created too much drama and red tape, fidelity, romance, love all those things rendered moot and stupid in the face of the extinction they faced everyday. You breed with those who are a good genetic match and enjoy the couplings when they happened, but once that’s done you get your head back in the game and focus on living to see tomorrow.
The blond-haired man looked up the ridiculously steep hill and sighed deeply adjusting his sword belt and trudging his way up the carved stone steps jammed into the dirt for traction. After a few minutes even the extremely fit Wizard was breathing a littler heavier when he reached the Hut and knocked on the door. A second or two after that a dry cackling voice barked through the door.
“Come in, come in!” Mortimer grumbled lightly, no matter the time of day or what hell was at their gates Magda was always such a cheery person.
Pushing open the door Mortimer ducked down to avoid braining himself on the low ceiling and made his way to the firepit and the wooden table behind it where four elderly women were busy scratching away in books and on sheaves of paper hunched over ledgers full of births, deaths, new breeder files, and those about to be subject to the Rite of Obligation. Mortimer knew the procedures so he simply stood quietly waiting for one of the old Crones to address him. Which considering how busy they all looked might take a little bit.
On the far right was Glinda, a tall queenly looking woman who was in charge of Deaths, next to her was Effy, a squat Dwarf-looking woman who kept track of new breeders, on the far left was Velky, who was as pale as a Vampire, but just didn’t like going outside and she was the one who kept track of the Rites of Obligation. At the center of the table was the Head Witch herself Magda and she was in charge of recording the births of every person and monster that called the Northern Tribe home. Lining the walls behind and all round the four Witches were the neatly organized boxes of records. Protected by the Druids magic so they would likely outlast mankind on this planet.
Effy huffed and harrumphed as she hefted a book from the pile behind her.
“Oi, Velky, I got a little girl who just turned thirteen. She's a bonnie wee thing, blonde hair, blue eyes, and sizable birthing hips already. Ye got any Riters for her?”
The pale woman sniffed and slowly flipped through one of her own books.
“Hmm yes, a boy of fifteen, he’s a week overdue for a breeding. Little peon keep complaining to our male Hunters about how he doesn’t like older girls. He says and I quote “they laugh at the size of my manhood.” So we’re going to try a young girl with no other reference point. I will send word to our Brass Collars to round them both up.” The pale woman looked past the other three to Glinda. “Glinda my dear, I have a young woman by the name of Maria Black who is due for a breeding today, but I can’t find her anywhere. Is she in your books?”
Glinda looked over her small glasses eyeing Velky up then looked down flipping through her alphabetically built book.
“Yes, poor dear was killed two nights ago in a Dust Storm. Looks like we’ll need to replace her with someone she was a decent Rearer.”
Mortimer had an execution to get to so he couldn’t sit and listen to these hens cluck back and forth much longer. Clearing his throat he dropped the blue rope on the open page of Magda’s book.
“My apologies ladies, but I have more important matters to attend to then standing here. I have a new male offspring to report.”
Magda picked up the small rope studying the metal plate woven into it. She was a pudgy woman, but it looked more like muscle on her old frame than fat, likely from the benefits of being married to Gia’s favorite son.
Taking off her glasses Magda looked up at Mortimer smiling.
“Hmm you let Ms. Maxwell call the boy Mortimer. Does this mean we finally get to put a name in the Grimm family records?”
Mortimer crossed his arms and scoffed.
“Don’t pop your garter old woman. The child is only a Half-Blood, he’s not worthy of wearing the mantle of Grimm. Danielle thought it would be nice for the boy to know who is sire is, especially considering he’s only one of ten offspring of mine still alive.”
Glinda nodded slowly.
“Hmm yes, six offspring killed before they even reached breeding age. Quite a loss for our little family.”
Mortimer rolled his eyes.
“Yes family what sweetly sappy idea.”
Magda looked through her books.
“Hmm this is the third child you’ve had by Ms. Maxwell. Do I sense some feelings oh mighty Wizard?”
Mortimer’s face reddened, but he shook it off.
“You are going to make me sick you old crone. Danielle is a good lay and one of our best Fighters, I despise taking such a fine asset out of the field for a maternal year, but we are all bound by the Rites aren’t we?”
The old Witches cackled and Magda wrote the information down in her ledger.
“If you say so Wizard Grimm, so for an old woman’s curiosity when will I get to put a check in the Grimm family’s box?”
As Magda finished putting the new boy’s information down Mortimer turned to leave, but stopped at her question.
“When an attractive and reasonably powerful Pure-Blood Witch walks into our camp.Then the Grimm family’s line may continue, but for now I need to attend an execution with Hunter Jason.”
Glinda hmmed softly then nodded.
“Oh yes, the spies, kidnappers, and non-breeders. Werewolves I believe yes?”
Mortiemr nodded exiting the door.
“Yes, Jason gets to hang another pair of skins from the ramparts. Good day ladies.” With another sigh Mortimer hitched his sword belt again and headed for the Tribal Square where Jason would be with the Werewolf prisoners.
---
Jason sat unnaturally still in the corner of his “home” a faux creation to give the illusion of being a sleeping, eating human. An illusion no one really shared considering his last task had been to literally rip the arms off of a man seeking to harm the future generation in his own sick perversion. That had been a task that both Jason and “R4ZH4H-X1” had enjoyed. R4ZH4H-X1 being the mental designation given to the robotic Gum Hunter Jason’s soul inhabited.
Typically these robotic hunters were indistinguishable from their human victims. They ate, breathed, slept, all in a faux attempt to appear human. Jason and “R4ZH4H” had not done any of those things since the robotic hunter was captured and forced to accept a human soul as it’s master. Now the entirety of the AI’s processing power was devoted to the task of attempting to regain control of it’s body. Such simple processes as ‘breathing’ and the circulation of ‘blood’ to simulate the natural movement and tremor of a human body were left defunct.
Jason, in the hours when he wasn’t doing something awful to another human being, devoted much of his time to mentally beating back the robotic consciousness, as were his orders. Jason enjoyed existing inasmuch as someone with no emotional chemical response could enjoy something. Not that Jason could miss things. Turns out even the simple process of missing and longing for something is not ingrained in the spirit, but were entirely chemical responses of the natural human brain.
Jason was a spirit in a robot’s body without benefit of a chemical brain to give him the illusion of humanity. There were only two realities to Jason. Existence and Orders. His existence was guaranteed by the mere act of suppressing the robotic will, a trivial task some of the time and others a monumentally challenging proposition. And so his Orders took up the rest of his time. Orders being the magical compelling of his soul to do the bidding of his Masters. Not that Jason minded, or harbored any ill will. Those were chemical emotions. Something he didn’t have. Nor did he have gratitude. His only emotion was that of an abstract satisfaction or dissatisfaction propagated by the spell forms on his soul.
A new thought entered his consciousness as an order for the Brass Collars was given by the Witches of the Hill. It was a very slight feeling of dissatisfaction for himself of a job left undone. Jason moved to the exit of his hut and stepped out onto the square. “Let's go” he ordered to a pair of men wearing a brass loop close around their necks. Being Brass Collars came with privilege, but also danger. The Brass Collars were specially designed by Mortimer and the King with spell forms giving Jason total control over their actions when on duty. Failure meant an instant death as the Brass Collar constricted rapidly, cutting a head off in seconds.
You couldn’t just volunteer to become a BC, as the locals called them for short. Brass Collars are the most skilled warriors, given training in the arts of combat, retrieval, and tracking as well as investigation, interrogation, and Law under the King’s Writ. They were like Judges from that movie Mortimer kept talking about, only more brutal and final.
“Our prisoners today are the Spies you two tracked down last night. The order came from the top and it is time for the other shoe to come down. An example is being made so do not kill them,”
The two BC’s nodded and moved off to gather their brethren and collect the prisoners. A full show of force would be made today with all of of the BC’s present with their leader and Mortimer.
Jason met Mortimer on the path to the Square and answered the unspoken question.
“Pair of Subjects captured and set for examples. The arrest did not go according to plan and it cost the lives of five local fighters who attempted to assist our forces in the arrest. They have been marked for a place of honor for going above what their duty required, their resting place in the Hallowed Grounds. When the subjects were subdued we entered their living quarters and found several children trussed up and hidden behind a faux wall. They were returned to the Aged Ones to continue growing until they take the Rites”
Mortimer nodded at the Gum Hunter his staff clacking softly on the ground.
“Good, as pointless as “honoring” the dead in this world is the ignorant masses like being told they’re worth more than they really are. So give me the details in how the capture and investigation went. I’ll need it to make a grand speech before you and the BCs draw, quarter, and skin the Freaks.”
“They make good fertilizer, according to Our King,” Jason remarked offhand in a very factual way. “The Arrest started off according to plan. Myself and Two BC’s surrounded the hut. Both subjects were present, I could hear their hearts beating. Something, probably their enhanced hearing, tipped them off to our presence, indicated by the male’s heart increasing in tempo. I ordered the BC’s in through the two secondary entrances and I held the main entrance. The Male burst through the wall of the dwelling followed by the female, attempting to escape via their superior speed. This drew the attention of two Locals who drew on them and attempted to slow them down. Their deaths were quick, but they did slow down the pair long enough for me to catch up with the female. I kicked out and shattered her hip bones. She fell and the male turned savage, he threw himself at me and I sidestepped. Unfortunately he landed on a trio of females from another domicile and slew them in his rage. I caught him by both of his arms and dislocated them before slamming him into the ground and Collaring him while the BC’s collared the Female. The spells on the Collars worked as intended and they were forcibly domesticated. The BC’s healed the female of her fractures for their appointment with me today,”
Mortimer nodded a small smile crossing his face as his pictured the quick and easy take down. It always amused him to think of the Freaks of nature being battered, but the smile vanished when Jason said they healed the Female.
“Hmm, so the rumors of the Druid trying to appear merciful ring true then. I remember when you and the BCs were encouraged to destroy and torture the criminals before execution.” Mortimer shook his head as they crested the slope leading to the natural bowl where the village square was located. The people were already gathered around the black fountain and the BCs were in a line between the silent villages and the gallows where the executions would take place. Before the fountain were two more BCs and the prisoners. They were naked and kneeling before the people their hands and feet bound behind them.
Mortimer shook his head.
“Too bad she’s a Freak. The Female is well formed and a Virgin, might’ve been a valuable asset for us. Go on ahead Jason ready the Healer’s Scourge and your filleting knife and bring them up to the gallows.” Mortimer moved for the podium on the back of the gallows to prepare.
Jason nodded and continued forward where Mortimer had stopped to address the crowd from a podium for this occasion. Jason continued up to the two BC’s stationed behind the two prisoners and nodded. Both drew forth their Healers Scourges. A cruel wooden rod with leather straps attached to the end and metal spiked balls attached to the end of the leather straps. The rod was enchanted so that when the whip landed on flesh it would heal only seconds after the strike while leaving the pain of the lash behind.
Both BC’s drew back and started flaying the two alive, their motions precise and merciless while Mortimer read the charges. After their initial screams of pain drowned the Wizard out Jason barked “You will be SILENT” his voice amplifying over the din. The Collars on their neck forced supplication and they fell silent despite the pain of the Scourge. Then he went back to sharpening his knife, the soft slide of metal barely heard over Mortimer’s words. Jason hadn’t wielded a Healers Scourge since the first time, when he had inadvertently split a man in two on the first strike. Even the Druid's magic couldn’t heal death.
As Jason and his BCs regained silence from the two prisoners Mortimer rose his voice into the air and began reading the charges and punishments.
“Jesse Spaford, Jamie Curtness you are here today for the crimes of Non-Breeding, Espionage for an Overlord, killing five of our fighters, and the kidnapping of the Great Northern Tribes’ offspring. As one these crimes are punishable by lashing, torture, and staking out to die a slow death. But together they warrant lashings for each count of crime then Drawing, Quartering, and Skinning. You will die here today, but it will be a long and painful death befitting such dire crimes. What do you have to say for yourselves?”
The Female Jamie was in too much pain to speak, but Jesse a bold buggerer snarled up at Mortimer.
“We say go fuck yourselves you filthy close minded bigot! WE CHOSE TO LOVE WHO WE CHOSE TO LOVE WHEN WE CHOSE TO LOVE AND WE WEREN’T GOING TO LET YOU BLIND ANOTHER GENERATION WITH YOUR PSYCHOTIC WAYS! YOU HEAR ME YOU...unnff!” The BC behind him cracked the Scourge across the young monster’s head dislocating his jaw so he could no longer speak. Unperturbed by the outburst Mortimer continued reading the charges.
“You are hypocritical fools and those children you were going to hand over to the Overlord would’ve wished for death at the end of the first day. Now each of you will receive a lash for every fighter you killed, every offspring you stole, and every ounce of information you gave to our enemies. That is twenty lashes apiece! Hunter Jason, begin the punishment.”
Without a word the two BC’s deactivated the Healer's Gift the Druid had placed on the Lashes. They began to cut and tear into flesh without healing the damage done, while multiplying the pain felt tenfold for each lash.
“You are not to lose consciousness,” Jason told the two victims. Their Collars would keep them awake through the whole ordeal. After twenty lashes they activated the Healer’s gift once more and delivered a final lash, healing the damage done but leaving the absolutely mind altering pain in place before taking their place alongside their ten brethren. Jason stood from his seat and stalked forward, knife in hand.
From the crowd of villagers an enraged voice shouted over the whimpers of the prisoners.
“How is this any better than the Overlord Claw’s Estate! I’ve talked to Runaways and none of them have said anything about people being beaten and skinned alive to show a point! You are the true monsters he…*smack*!” A BC had shoved her way through the crowd and leveled the voice with a single punch to the head. She lifted her Spiked hammer high readying to smash the protester's head like a melon, her pure white cape fluttering behind her. The crowd was silent waiting for the final blow, but a strong clear voice from behind the gallows stopped the BC’s attacked and forced her to quickly drop to her knee and bow low. “Enough.”
The other Brass Collars followed quickly after and both Jason and Mortimer stood straight and tall their heads bowing low. From the top of the hill a tall powerfully built man dressed in rags and a crown of evergreen boughs began walking down. The crowd bowed down in reverence as their Beggar King, Acaryas Duvais approached. Walking on bare feet the Druid moved past the prisoners and to the unconscious protester, kneeling down he placed his hand over the man’s swollen mouth healing him instantly and bringing him to full wakefulness. The King let out a benign smile and helped the man up before embracing him like a father to his son.
“Be well, my son. Our world may not be perfect, but it is better than the alternatives.” He kissed the man on his forehead then walked slowly back through the crowd and up the gallows steps bowing to Mortimer before taking the Wizard’s place behind the podium.
Spoiler: Extremely Mature content, read if you are able, but DO NOT go crazy if you do, there is rape, murder, torture, death, and savagery beyond this spoiler
Mortimer’s face was clenched in rage he needed something to vent his anger upon. The two prisoners were still there and with a thundering roar Mortimer sent two large spears of lighting through the backs of the prisoners killing them instantly. He looked up and the Druid was already gone. The Wizard took a few deep breaths then scanned the crowd his eyes sparked with magic and he spoke in a low dangerous voice. “Finish them.” He snarled motioning over the dead prisoners, the BCs quickly returned to keeping the crowd of villages in place while Jason finished the demonstration.
And with that Jason began the process of skinning the two werewolves. It wouldn't take long considering how practiced a hand he was at the task. The whole while Mortimer, still boiling over with rage at the sickness of the Monsters stared into the hearts and souls of every individual still gathered around the square to watch Jason work.
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