Aikou Hateshiganai
folder
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,443
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Fantasy & Science Fiction › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,443
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Read the warning folks
((This chapter is the description of what the soldiers of the city found of Faith’s husband. It is only that scene, and should you not wish to read the descriptive way the torture room was described, and the remains themselves, I would suggest just moving on to the next chapter when it is posted.))
One of the guards that patrolled the city held the back of his hand to his mouth and nose in disgust at the scent, and when the door was opened, he turned and ran to the nearest pail. The scent of burned skin, already cooled and crusting, was carried in the air even in the hall; yet it was only the undertone to the metallic taste left at the back of the throat from the real stench that permeated the area. The room seemed to be painted red and brown, washed with the deadly color… soaked with it. Where all of it came from was impossible to determine; could one body truly contain so much? The room was small, but the heat of the summer day baked the crimson room and brought the gruesome stench to a near overpowering level. Central was the least disturbing of the many sights, a barbaric symbol that had once displayed both territory markings and punishments given to those who broke whatever laws were placed on that territory. Set upon a pike, standing upright, was the head of their victim, what was still left recognizable on it twisted into a mask of horror and pain.
Off in one corner, farthest from the door, was a single piece of the victim. Mostly bone and muscle could be seen, the red stringy tendrils hanging off of the stained and broken thing like rags, sticking to the soaked and stained floor, some even clinging to the wall like wet, horrific ivy. What skin was left on the thing was stained scarlet from the life elixir that had leaked from the vessels in the extremity. Oddly enough, splattered just above the sight were pieces of skin, likely the very same that had been peeled so carelessly from the muscle and bone below it, in a random pattern.
Organs were strewn about the small torture chamber, some crushed and torn, others remarkably preserved in their original shape. It was hard to identify the majority of what was seen though. What seemed to be the stomach was torn in shreds, its contents spilled about the bloody floorboards near where the majority of the destroyed thing was. The bladder and liver were both missing, no trace of them, and a search was never mounted to find the things. Some suspected that they had been burned along with many of the things that looked to have been drawn out of a flame only when the skin started to bubble. The intestines, both large and small, were splattered in sections throughout the length of this man’s personal hell. One piece lay in a full yard long segment only a few inches from the head’s pike, though the rest were in smaller fragments and thrown so randomly about one had to assume that they had been tossed over a shoulder once they were detached from the original whole.
The body itself could not be truly called a body in any sense. Both legs and arms had been removed from it, no skin survived more than an acid burn here and there, and large sections of bone and muscle were missing. They found one of the legs, whole save for being crushed by debilitating blows and its foot skinned on a disgusting pile outside of the building. The remainders of the pile consisted mostly of the cracked and detached ribs from the “body,” individual toes from the other foot… a whole bone with signs of acids still sizzling on it.
What seemed most disturbing to many a soldier as he was forced into the room, was not any of the piles of bone, flesh, and muscle crushed into a slimy muck… was not the amount of blood splattered about the room to give it the impression that the walls themselves produced a sheen of crimson… was not the head of a horrified man… it was up on the ceiling. A husk of skin nailed to one of the support beams, hallow and dangling, the skin that had once covered the man’s penis. How the fete had been managed no one knew, because from the way it had torn and the bit of muscle and cartilage still clinging inside to the nail, it had already been nailed to something, if not that beam, before the skin had been removed.
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Alright, it\'ll be a bit before I update again. I\'ve been lazy lately, and a bit busy with IRL stuff. Maybe if I get more reviews than last time, I\'ll update sooner.
One of the guards that patrolled the city held the back of his hand to his mouth and nose in disgust at the scent, and when the door was opened, he turned and ran to the nearest pail. The scent of burned skin, already cooled and crusting, was carried in the air even in the hall; yet it was only the undertone to the metallic taste left at the back of the throat from the real stench that permeated the area. The room seemed to be painted red and brown, washed with the deadly color… soaked with it. Where all of it came from was impossible to determine; could one body truly contain so much? The room was small, but the heat of the summer day baked the crimson room and brought the gruesome stench to a near overpowering level. Central was the least disturbing of the many sights, a barbaric symbol that had once displayed both territory markings and punishments given to those who broke whatever laws were placed on that territory. Set upon a pike, standing upright, was the head of their victim, what was still left recognizable on it twisted into a mask of horror and pain.
Off in one corner, farthest from the door, was a single piece of the victim. Mostly bone and muscle could be seen, the red stringy tendrils hanging off of the stained and broken thing like rags, sticking to the soaked and stained floor, some even clinging to the wall like wet, horrific ivy. What skin was left on the thing was stained scarlet from the life elixir that had leaked from the vessels in the extremity. Oddly enough, splattered just above the sight were pieces of skin, likely the very same that had been peeled so carelessly from the muscle and bone below it, in a random pattern.
Organs were strewn about the small torture chamber, some crushed and torn, others remarkably preserved in their original shape. It was hard to identify the majority of what was seen though. What seemed to be the stomach was torn in shreds, its contents spilled about the bloody floorboards near where the majority of the destroyed thing was. The bladder and liver were both missing, no trace of them, and a search was never mounted to find the things. Some suspected that they had been burned along with many of the things that looked to have been drawn out of a flame only when the skin started to bubble. The intestines, both large and small, were splattered in sections throughout the length of this man’s personal hell. One piece lay in a full yard long segment only a few inches from the head’s pike, though the rest were in smaller fragments and thrown so randomly about one had to assume that they had been tossed over a shoulder once they were detached from the original whole.
The body itself could not be truly called a body in any sense. Both legs and arms had been removed from it, no skin survived more than an acid burn here and there, and large sections of bone and muscle were missing. They found one of the legs, whole save for being crushed by debilitating blows and its foot skinned on a disgusting pile outside of the building. The remainders of the pile consisted mostly of the cracked and detached ribs from the “body,” individual toes from the other foot… a whole bone with signs of acids still sizzling on it.
What seemed most disturbing to many a soldier as he was forced into the room, was not any of the piles of bone, flesh, and muscle crushed into a slimy muck… was not the amount of blood splattered about the room to give it the impression that the walls themselves produced a sheen of crimson… was not the head of a horrified man… it was up on the ceiling. A husk of skin nailed to one of the support beams, hallow and dangling, the skin that had once covered the man’s penis. How the fete had been managed no one knew, because from the way it had torn and the bit of muscle and cartilage still clinging inside to the nail, it had already been nailed to something, if not that beam, before the skin had been removed.
****************
Alright, it\'ll be a bit before I update again. I\'ve been lazy lately, and a bit busy with IRL stuff. Maybe if I get more reviews than last time, I\'ll update sooner.