Medieval Torture - 9/14

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raimi
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RE: Medieval Torture - 9/14

Postby raimi » Sun Nov 21, 2010 7:03 am

I blink.

First, it’s just dirt, grey, brown, ugly and smelly dirt that I see. (and smell) Something is warm on my face, I try not to think of it, try not to know what it is- I can’t move.

“What?” I find myself grumbling aloud, voice suddenly heavy with fear, laced with a slight dose of panic. I try to move, shift my weight, but to no avail. I am chained, they’re too tight around my wrists and I fear that I will break something if I try to yank the chains any harder.

The worst thing is not the fear and panic and confusion that’s starting to grip my heart- poor, poor heart, beating like a war drum inside me- no, it’s not even the blood, for blood it is that’s staining my face and my cold, naked body, it’s the table.

It’s in front of me, large and stern, dull colours and sharp edges. The things that are on it make me whimper aloud and it takes me a moment to realize that the one panting so hard is me.
“Good lord, no, let me go,” I say and eyes widen with fear, as I take in the things on the table. Rusty and sharp and deadly, stained with things I’d rather not even think.

It’s clear what this is.
It’s clear what those are and I’m scared- for this must be Hell, or a Purgatory, the room is small and hot yet I feel so cold. Why am I here? Why don’t I remember anything?


“I haven’t done anything,” I whisper, voice barely audible. I can’t look away from the devices, I can’t stop
myself from imagining what they’re used for, where does that go and what reaction that might bring out of me.

“I haven’t… help me,” I try to calm myself down, but my heart seems to have other ideas, trying to climb out of my mouth or jump through my chest, with the way its pounding.


“You ready, gal?” Says a voice behind the rusty door.

I hold back a scream and look down when the door opens.

LittleEden
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Re: Medieval Torture - 9/14

Postby LittleEden » Sun Nov 21, 2010 7:49 am

I woke to find myself in a hall of horrors. It was dark and damp just as a proper torture chamber should be. I was not alone, other victims hung along the wall, and the "master of torture" was eyeing me as he looked for just the right "tool of pain".

"Hey, you," I hoped my voice sounded stronger than I felt. He pointed to his chest. "Yes, you, I need your help."

He left the tool on the table, and came over to me. I was relieved he had nothing in his hands though I imagine he could inflict plenty of damage with his bare fists.

"It won't do you any good to plea for mercy. I'm fresh out."

"I'm not asking for mercy I need your help to hang right."

"You need what?"

"I see all the others hanging in a certain way and I just can't seem to get in that position. If I am to be here at least I can fit in, and hang with the rest of them."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I though if you could just show me how to do it than I could probably manage to do it too."

He scratched his head as if he was not sure he was hearing me right than to my surprise he agreed. "How to we go about it?"

"You un-do me and then I lock you up; all the time you explaining to me what you are doing."

"What then?"

"As soon as I am sure I know how to do it, I will let you loose, and you can put me back on the wall where I can hang like everyone else."

"Okay, that sounds like it might work." He unlocked my chains and lifted me down. He then told me how to put the chains and iron wrist clamps on him, and how to use the wheel to hoist him up. Once he was securely in place, he preceded to show me how to hang in what he considered was the right position.

"You got it? Let me down."

"You are doing such a good job up there I think its only right you stay there."

I took his key ring from his belt, let myself out the door; made my way through the castle; and across the moat to safety.

loganatr
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RE: Medieval Torture - 9/14

Postby loganatr » Sun Jan 30, 2011 9:04 pm

I groggily go through my morning routine of clearing away the fog as my mind quickly wraps itself around the only salient issue at hand. The table looms in front of me as I try to repress a weird joy in knowing that today won't involve any multitasking. Multi-tooling, by the looks of things, certainly, by the looks of the strange instruments in front of me, ethereally illuminated in the dim, dank, dareisay gloomy room (chamber?) which I'm currently wearing chains in. There are weird hooks and cruel-looking blades; and a meat cleaver that doesn't appear to have been cleaned since its last usage- but I don't have to ask if I can use the bathroom, so that's a plus; by the smell of things, people relieve themselves on the floor or in their pants on a pretty regular basis.
Just in case the point wasn't clear, this room smells disgusting. I think this to myself because my mind is persistently refusing to focus. I begin honing in on the instruments in front of me, which my body had already been furiously contemplating while my mind hadn't deigned to really start working yet. One instrument is just a giant hook about the size of my arm, and appearing to be about the cirumference of a good-sized bratwurst. I have no idea what giant hooks would be used for, specifically, but I have to admire the man who's this dedicated to the whole medeival vibe he's created. To be fair, it could also be a woman preparing to torture me; but I just see this as the type of poop unicorns and rainbows a man gets involved with when he's been alone for too long; maybe his friend is an engineer, and that friend has a harmless obsession with catapults; and that “friend” tells him to “get lost,” and then... and then I don't know.
I don't know but I urge myself to focus, even going so far as to rattle the chains holding me up against the wall. I'm still calm, but I know that if I can't accept the reality of the situation at hand, I'm going to be freaking out pretty damn soon. I force myself to see the next item on the table, a dagger that I have to laugh as I describe it to myself as cruel...
I close my eyes and allow my mantra to come to me without focusing on the quality of my thoughts. In the back of my head I'm hoping that my captors don't choose this moment to walk into the room, when my pants are around my ankles, so to speak. Slowly, calmly, I allow my thoughts to move in the direction of an awareness of myself; but I only allow myself a couple of minutes, just enough time to clear my head and not really addressing my deeper fears about the situation. Phoo... phoo... hooo... hmm...mm...hmmm...hmm...huh...hu
I open my eyes and see the five tools in front of me. From left to right, the hook shines dully; a bat with nails in it looks as stupid as it ever did in pictures; the cruel blade, a dagger really, appears to be in decent shape though certainly capable of inflicting gangrene; a wooden club promises to smash my kneecaps at will; and a long, serrated instrument really draws me in for a minute or two.
I have no idea what is to come.

kalayup
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RE: Medieval Torture - 9/14

Postby kalayup » Tue May 17, 2011 1:05 pm

I wake to the smell of death, I instantly grown. The ache in my head causes me to shudder in pain. Where am I? I strain to remember as I search my surroundings, trying to think straight but the gash in my head makes it hard. I try hard to focus on the room I am in, without making my head throb. Suddenly I remembered, my body starts to quaver as tears roll down my cheeks… I murdered the queen. Actually I had murdered five queens, my five eldest sisters. I am a killer, and based on my surroundings I was soon to die, because of my greed for the throne. I am chained to a wall, weapons that send chills down my spine, were laid out before me. I am only fourteen! “To young to die!” I shout my voice quavering, “To young to kill….” I trail off, my voice becomes no more that a silent whisper. Why did I kill my sister? Why couldn’t I have waited until the throne was rightfully mine? “Because I am stupid and impatient, I wanted to be queen at all costs.” I break into sobs.
I don't want my death to come, but if I escape being tortured to death then what would I do? I surly will be driven mad just living with myself, terrible me. Where would I go? I am a princess (or at least was.), I am used to royalty, being pampered… not being alone and desperate, having nothing. But if I can run into the woods and escape far enough into them… well then I can make my way to another kingdom, find help… start over. Impossible. I am a criminal now... well, I can just steal and kill all I want, if I got caught I would have died anyways. I break into heavier sobs, I'm not going to escape it is merely impossible. I close my eyes and let myself drift away, thinking about before I became a killer when I was just a young girl…
Feasts, food, my warm cozy bed, and family; my eyes open, not family! I don't have family! I killed my five older sisters, mother and father are long gone and my two younger brothers died at birth. I killed what was left of my family. I glance at the stretcher in the center of the room, I whimper. I saw a man being stretched once, his limbs were torn off and he bled to death. I could be hung… that might be the best way to die… suffocating to death. Or maybe beheaded, it would be quick and easy, not long and painful. Yes, I will ask to be beheaded. I glance at the long hook laying on the stretcher, I shake harder than ever as I shriek uncontrollably. No, not drawing and quartering! I slump against the wall, helplessly. All hope is lost. I finally gain control of myself and calm down… taking deep, shaky breaths of the muggy air. The door flung open. I loose control once again, as a cloaked man grabs me and thrusts me over his shoulders, I kick and and fight, whille screaming. He pats me and whispers that everything would be fine. “Fine?!” I sob, “I am a young girl and I am to be killed!’’ he hits me on the head with something and all I see is black.
I wake once again, I am slumping agianst a tree. I sit up, my dress is in rags but I am no longer in the torture chamber. The sun is setting and I stand, trembling. The castle is in the distance. I almost run to it, convincing myself everything is a dream, but I know it isn't, I have killed my sisters. The hooded figure must have knocked me out and freed me, he saved my life. I turn around and glance at the woods. I have nothing, I might starve to death but I don't care, I am not going to die. But the memory of the torture chamber haunts me, and it will... forever. The suspense just sitting there in the chamber... waiting to die is twenty times worse than any punishment yet to come.
I set off towards the out skirts of the woods. I have nothing, and have no idea where to run to... but I am alive and that all that matters for the moment. And with that I took off running, grateful that I am able to run and that I have legs. I am alive... for now.

Chronic Daydreamer
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RE: Medieval Torture - 9/14

Postby Chronic Daydreamer » Thu May 26, 2011 12:37 pm

Why had he gotten himself into this mess?

Lanius advanced towards him like a wild cat closing in on its prey. Behind him, men and women snarled, scratching and shoving each other to get a better view. The prisoner struggled helplessly against chains that bound him to the wall.

"I expected more from a descendant of the Drayton line," Lanius taunted, his lips curling back over yellow fangs. "Couldn't live up to your reputation, could you?"

Matthias slumped against the wall. This was all because he'd let his rival's jeers about his competence as a vampire hunter get to him. I'll prove him wrong, he'd thought as he'd headed out to track down the Vesica clan's leader. This clan was known for its brutality, but why had he assumed they'd be all brawn and no brains, easily outsmarted? Now here he was, in their hideout, his guns and knives taken from him.

"Now you're here," Lanius continued, "you wouldn't mind telling us the whereabouts of your team, would you? Keep in mind, if you don't..." He gestured towards several bizarre-looking contraptions, "Well, it's too bad for you that we remember the good old ways of making people talk." The lesser vampires hissed in delight. "Out," their leader commanded. "You can watch interrogations when you can control yourselves around blood." The lessers skulked away, leaving only those who stood upright rather than crouching. They only looked vaguely less animalistic. "Of course," Lanius added, facing Matthias again. "We'll save the blood-spilling for later, so you'll make a tastier meal."

"I don't care," Matthias growled. His mouth was dry, but he glared defiantly. "I'll never tell you."

"Oh really?" Lanius mocked, stringy hair falling into his sunken face as he tilted his head. "Greta, pass the thumbscrew."

Cold sweat broke out on Matthias' forehead as a woman handed a small metal device to Lanius. He felt it squeeze around his thumb, and braced himself. A crunch sounded through the dungeon, and a cry left the hunter's lips. Still, he refused to talk, even as the vampire repeated the process nine more times.

"You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" Lanius remarked. "Let's see if the pendulum softens you up." Two vampires restrained Matthias as the clan leader unchained him. They shoved him into a wooden frame and tied his wrists behind his back with ropes, renewing the pain in his broken fingers. As they turned a handle, his shoulders slowly strained, then dislocated with a pop. He let out an agonised yell.

Lanius untied the ropes and flung him to the ground. "We'll give you time to think this over," he said, heading out with the others and slamming the door. Matthias' breathing came in gasps as he stared at the spike-covered chair that surely awaited him. Time slowed to a snail's pace. He could have been locked in the dungeon for hours, or even a full day.

Finally, the door creaked open. "You ready for the Judas chair?" Lanius jeered.

Matthias swallowed hard. "Do what you like to me," he muttered. Fresh jolts of pain surged through his body as the vampires hoisted him up and strapped him into the chair. Spikes pierced his skin in hundreds of places, drawing a strangled groan from him.

"In any case," Lanius said, smirking, "It doesn't matter whether you talk or not. From what I've heard about your group, they never leave a teammate behind. At least we'll be prepared."

The remaining colour drained from Matthias' face. They'd go looking for him. They'd track down the clan, and then... he didn't want to think about it. Seconds, minutes, maybe hours dragged by. Then, in the distance, a commotion broke out. Gunshots and hissing filled the air.

"It'd be rude of us not to greet your friends, wouldn't it?" Lanius sneered. Once again, the vampires turned and left. The physical pain was nothing compared to the guilt that swept over the once-proud hunter. If only he hadn't been so arrogant, so stupid... In a matter of minutes, the gunshots ceased, replaced by growls and hisses.

Lessers and elders poured into the room, their clothes stained with dark red patches. Their grins revealed strips of flesh between their teeth. "Good thing these spikes keep most of the blood in," Lanius commented. "Now, let's feast."

Matthias didn't even raise his head as several sets of teeth sunk into his flesh. It's all my fault, was his last thought before death numbed his pain.

Bridgetoo
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Re: Medieval Torture - 9/14

Postby Bridgetoo » Sat Dec 17, 2011 3:22 pm

My eyes opened. I was chained with my arms above my head and my legs spread out wide. The bump on my head explained how I had gotten there but not why. Then, I looked around. Torture devices in front of me neatly placed on a table, stone walls, and a dirt floor completed the dungeon I realized was my own.

Why was I chained in my own dungeon, I was a princess. It all came back to me. The riots, the fires, and the rebels had burst into the castle, killed my parents and chained me up on this wall. Somebody came down the stairs towards me. A man of about my age, eighteen. I could barely make out his features in the poorly lit room but I could tell he was tall and strong. Stong enough to use the array of weapons on the table.

"Just do whatever your going to do. Let me warn you, it will not go unpunished." I bravely said. I wanted to go out a noble someone who knew death was coming.

"I know." He replied. "Their going to kill me for this." He stepped forward and grabbed the sharpest sword on the table, it could cut through anything. I closed my eyes welcoming death but instead the sword slashed through my bindings. I fell weakly to the ground.

"Why did you do that?" I asked. "You could've killed me."

"I know, but I want you to take the nation back. Your parents were the only corrupt rulers, your niave not corrupt." He said.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs. "Go! Runaway!" He yelled.

"What is your name?" I asked.

"Just call me Knight."

I ran away and heard as swords clattered against each other. Someone fell to the ground but I didn't dare look back.

laviguerjw
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Re: Medieval Torture - 9/14

Postby laviguerjw » Mon Jul 30, 2012 3:55 pm

My head is pounding, my mouth is dry, and I really need to relieve myself. I think I drank too much last night. But it was so worth it.

I have seen the IRON MAIDEN.

\m/

mokingjay
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Re: Medieval Torture - 9/14

Postby mokingjay » Fri Aug 31, 2012 9:36 pm

I begin to regain feeling in my limbs as sleep begins to leave me. I can feel the chains around my wrists and ankles as I lie on the wet straw in the room that is my prison. The pain returns and I wish again that I where dead. I don't open my eyes. Instead I try to pretend that I'm home, back in bed. It doesn't work. Soon the pain in my limbs becomes so intense that I know I must start to move. But I dread what waits for me when I open my eyes.

At last I open my eyes and painstakingly get to my feet. The table is standing in its usual place, just out of my reach, informing me of what lies ahead. I close my eyes again and try and stretch my tired limbs. But the images don't go. Today, my friend has placed a variety of whips, a few of which I have seen before; I know already that the whipping post will be standing to my right. Ready and waiting, stained with the blood of countless others who have dared oppose Gorthen. What else has been prepared?

My eyes open again and I look to see that my fears were true. The rack has also been prepared. My head droops and my wet ratted heir falls over my face. I take deed breaths to hold back the tears.

"You have to keep going," I tell myself, "For him. Eventually they will give up and let you die. Then your part will be played and he will be safe to continue the work. You have to go on. They cannot know where he is."

I think of where he is, and hope that he is safe. I pray that he will never know what I went through for him. I think back to when we were young rebels fighting for a cause we didn't fully understand. How we laughed about it! That has all changed now, and I know I will never see him again, never hear his laugh, or feel his hand holding mine.

I fall back in sheer exhaustion and give a scream as my wounds scrape along the wall. I know that they are coming now. I close my eyes and fall back to the floor. "For him, For him." I tell myself over and over as I hear the door of my cell open, and the sound of footsteps approaching. I brace myself for the hard hands that I have come to know so well.

Instead the sounds stop, and I feel a man kneeling besides me. His hands are gentle as he carefully frees me from my bonds.

"Oh, Agnes," his soft familiar voice whispers in my ear. "my brave brave Agnes. Come, it's time you went home."

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