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Mick
May 20, 2010 11:09:57 GMT -5
Post by Queen of Hearts on May 20, 2010 11:09:57 GMT -5
"Hold him.”
The voice was cold steel, no inflection of emotion, just the voice of command. He waited until the victim was stretched out, the blood spurting from where his genitals had been crushed in a vice. And then Mick shoved the red hot poker up and into the opening between his buttocks,. As the man squealed like a stuck pig, he swiftly grabbed another and jammed it down the throat, effectively cutting off the screaming. His men held the tortured man until his death throes ceased. Then they threw the body outside to the hunting dogs.
“That’s the very last one, sir,” the second in command told him, Mick nodding as he was well aware of that fact. His quest over, task done, to hunt and kill those who had tormented his sister many long years ago. He had been one of the ones who had found her, a raw recruit into the local militia. Some men’s rage burned hot, but his burned cold, and the change in him was marked, from then on no one saw a smile from him, or even any other trace of emotion. He methodically began to gather information and less than two months later, he walked into an inn, and killed two men there, two of the men who had tortured and raped his sister.
The first few were swift kills which he later regretted, so he began torturing them before they died. His quest became public and he became feared. They called him the blue eyed devil and no one, not even his family, could cease his determined effort to eradicate every last one of these criminals. Gradually, men began to come to him, to ask to follow him. He barely noticed. After a decade or so, he had his own sizeable army, run mostly by his second. Who had got his job by being one of the earliest ones to come to him. Fortunately, the man had the kind of mindset to be good at the job. Mick just had to decide what to do and Jonas would make it happen.
And so they had hunted down every last one. He went to the window and overlooked the dogs tearing apart the mutilated corpse a moment, then turned to find his ‘staff’ assembled just inside the doorway. They were fiercely loyal, these men, and he respected them for their prowess and loyalty. Jonas came forward, as de facto representative and reiterated his statement. “That’s the very last one my Lord.” Mick rubbed a hand over his jaw, which was grizzled and in need of a good shave, unavailable in this terrain, and eyed Jonas. “Don’t call me that.” he said quietly, but it was not an order, simply the now expected response to them calling him by title. How they’d found out, he had not a clue.
With a nod, he acknowledged the statement once again, the emotionless eyes waiting for Jonas to get around to his point. Jonas cleared his throat and took another step forward. “Well, sir, we were wondering. That is...What are we going to do now?” Mick looked across, at these men and for once, he did not have a goal, did not have a plan. He looked dead on at Jonas, who stood up to that scrutiny, and shook his head. “I don’t know.” The men looked at each other and shuffled a bit and then Jonas cleared his throat again. “The men, sir, these officers here and I. We’re behind you. Whatever it is, wherever you go, more battle or home to your lands. We’re your men and no one else’s.” Mick nodded once, then watched, still emotionless as they filed out again. He stared at the door a long time, then sat down upon his bunk and began to drink.
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Mick
May 20, 2010 11:10:58 GMT -5
Post by Queen of Hearts on May 20, 2010 11:10:58 GMT -5
He drank. And drank. And as he drank he got an idea. A wonderful, scary CRAZY idea. He threw open his door and sent one of the guards for his second, the other for a series of maps. While they were scrambling, he threw himself back in his chair and studied the fireplace. He had one of the best armies in the world, and now what was he going to do with them? Make himself a king.
His people came running and he snatched the largest map from the man’s hand and unrolled it, impatiently setting books on the edges to keep it down. “There.” he pointed. The second peered curiously. “But there’s nothing there!” Mick turned the ice blue eyes upon the man and nodded. “Precisely.” Far into the night they made plans, and then when the sun broke the horizon, Mick sent them along to continue with the provisions and fell into a sound slumber. He slept the entire day away and then the night. When he awoke, he was refreshed and still fully in support of his insane idea. There was really only one obstacle. He prepared himself for an audience with the King.
But first, entertainment. He pulled the door open and glanced at the tall, blonde guard. “Get the green one.” When he bought a slave girl, he took away her name and anything that gave her an identity as other than his property. He assigned them a color for the purposes of identification. Their single shift, hair ribbon, collar and cages were all marked with their color. Once a few of them thought to be mischievous and swap somehow. Those who joined in had their hair shaven and their head painted with their assigned color. The ringleader had this happen to her as well, then she was forced to service the camp’s pack of dogs before she was tossed out of the protective barricade to the wilderness.
The green one was brought, giggling at the guard who had taken the opportunity to sample some of her charms. She stopped giggling when she hit the floor and curled in the prostrate position next to the doorway as it shut, well-trained and never moving a muscle until he snapped his fingers and pointed to his feet. Quickly she scuttled across the room and knelt in the exact spot where Mick had pointed. He finished up the last of the letter that he wanted sent on ahead of him to the King, leaving the green girl where she was and handing that to be sent off. When he came back, her grabbed her by the throat, bent her over the desk and proceeded to use her without a word. When he was done, he handed her the shift of emerald and then sent her out of the room.
Next day he was on his way to speak with the King. He expected his proposal to be granted, and in due time it was. He was going to take and hold an area of mountain and forests, said to be infested with goblins and trolls, and other scum. He would provide safe passage and a big stake of whatever they acquired, gems, fine lumber, whatever. But they had the right of self rule, granted by the King’s hand, along with an elevation in status, and a pledge of friendship. He was already a high noble, and the King was well aware of Mick’s army. The negotiations had gone well and he was content as he walked along, taking a few moments to study the area.
The chime of bells caught his attention and as he rounded the corner he saw the source. It was a dancing girl who was adorned in bells and ribbons and little else. He caught sight of his second in the admiring crowd and walked up to him. “Would you look at that,” the second greeted his commander, no his King with. Mick nodded and eyed her a minute. “Buy her.” he said. “Put her in orange.” Then a rare flash of teeth in a swiftly occurring smile. “To celebrate my Kingship. We’ll share her over a bottle of wine.” The second, who would be a Duke soon, flashed a grin and set off to find the girl’s owner. Mick went to his rooms to write up the official initial laws for his new kingdom.
But first he had to break up a fight between two of his men. Once he’d gotten them to stand down, he got to the bottom, shaking his head. Some girl. “Listen you two idiots.” Cold fury now. “I can’t have my men killing each other over some skirt. Put those weapons up NOW.” He barked and they automatically obeyed. “Now, forget the light skirt. BOTH of you. Come with me.” Somewhat chastised, eyeing each other nervously now, they followed their commander. He led them back to the slave area, handing them each a gold coin. “You go pick out a girl each. Mark her in some fashion. Then you don’t have to worry about who’s girl she is.” He left them there to their choice, making a mental note to set aside an allowance for the rest of the officers for such, and then continued on his way, musing over a law requiring all women in the kingdom be owned.
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Mick
May 20, 2010 11:11:41 GMT -5
Post by Queen of Hearts on May 20, 2010 11:11:41 GMT -5
Expressionless ice blue eyes watched as the men of his command stretched the limbs of the slobbering piece of trash who was currently begging for his life, spittle running down his chin. As soon as the man was pulled as taunt as possible, Mick pulled his sword. Lining it up carefully, he slid it between the exposed buttocks of the stripped man and slowly impaled the victim, burying the sword to its hilt. Pulling back out just as slowly, Mick then fucked the man to death with the sword, a dark grin across his features, the only expression his men ever saw on his face. When the screams at last died out, Mick picked up a piece of the man's discarded clothing and carefully wiped his sword clean.
Mick's second beheaded the corpse and stuck it on a pole, expressly cut for that purpose. Another soldier took it in order to place it at the side of the road by the entrance to this villa, while Mick's eyes swept the crowd. His men had rounded up all people who had been under the purview of the deceased, and forced them to watch his death. In rapid succession, Mick pointed out ten of the females with the lushest curves, and they were carried off, some kicking and screaming, some numbly succumbing to their fate. Watching them go, Mick made a note of the ones that fought the hardest.
Again, the icy eyes looked over, this time picking out all boys of fighting age who looked promising. These went to the barracks for training. Children and the elderly were disposed of as useless, their bodies would be dumped into a pit that the men of the villa were now being sent to dig. The women who were left were chained, neck to neck, arms secured tightly behind them, and stripped. The entire line of women would be secured within the massive barn, kept for the men's use.
As they were being secured, there was a bit of a scuffle down the line and Mick looked to see what the commotion was. Two of his men were in each other's faces, arguing over one of the women in line. “Hey!” Mick shoved in between them. “They all got cunts, you fuckwits. Both of you go find another one.” The soldiers looked at him a minute, a hint of sullenness in their eyes. “And go tell the rest of the men that we found a stockpile of wine in the cellar.” Identical grins spread across their faces and they scuttled off to spread the good news. Mick turned to his aide who had followed him. “Which whore was it?”
The offending female was pointed out and Mick pulled one of his oversized knives out. Grabbing a handful of her curly red locks, he yanked her head back and slit her throat. While the blood spurted from her neck, he wiped the blade clean with her hair and dropped her to the ground. Her body was left there as the line of women began shuffling along. Someone would take her body to the mass grave as soon as it was finished.
Seeing that his orders were being followed and everything was running smoothly, Mick headed off for the apartments he had taken over upon the demise of the lord of this place. His people were not new to his type of takeover and the girls he had chosen were all assembled in his bedroom, nude and bound. Deliberately ignoring their crying and pleading, Mick undressed, carefully placing each piece of armor and weaponry in place, making sure it was clean and prepared for the next use. When he was fully nude, he walked to the girl that he'd made a note of for being a spitfire earlier.
With the knife he had brought with him, Mick sliced her free of her bonds. Stepping back, he placed the knife down and stepped back, commanding her to stand. As she slowly did so, Mick could see the wariness mixed with defiance in her eyes. He reached out, blue eyes never leaving hers, and slid his hand between her legs. She reacted predictably, which is what he had been waiting for. As she reached her hand out to block the grope at her crotch, his free hand caught her upside the head with a surprise blow. She staggered and looked up to him, anger now in her eyes.
Mick didn't give her time to catch her breath, balling up his fist and punching her with all his strength in the stomach, doubling her over. As she vomited on the floor, the soldier grabbed her hair with his left hand and punched her in the face with his right. The death's head grin was on his face now, and he hit her over and over, pummeling her until she no longer moved. Kneeling at her side and pressing two fingers against her blood drenched neck, Mick ascertained that she was still alive.
Dragging the bloody and beaten girl to where the rest of the women could see her, Mick laid her on her back, spreading her legs wide. Kneeling on top of her thighs, which caused a screech from the woman as his knees ground into a broken bone, he proceeded to use her body. The girl perished at some point but Mick didn't notice. With a soft grunt, he finished and pulled away, leaving the corpse where it was.
Grabbing his knife, he went along the line, pulling their heads up and looking into their eyes. Those that showed that dull numbness of the victim, got their throats cut. The two that showed fear were freed from constraint and ordered to kneel by the door. The last two left both had that trace of defiance that Mick so disliked in women. He stepped back, considering a moment, soulless blue eyes pondering their fate. A quick step froward and he severed their bonds as well, swiftly retrieving his sword and setting it in front of him as those two eyed him warily.
“Fight,” Mick said shortly. “Winner lives.” One girl seemed slightly confused, but the other was quick, scary quick, and leapt on the first girl, grabbing a length of rope and trying to pull it around the other's neck. Mick settled in his chair, sword leaning against his leg and snapped his fingers, pointing to the ground. The two girls who had been quiet near the door scuttled over and set up on either side of him. Stroking their heads as one would a cat, Mick watched the fight play out.
It was extremely uneven. Girl number two had the upper hand throughout and Micks wasn't surprised in the least when she emerged the victor, choking the life out of her opponent with her bare hands. Lifting his hands from his pets, he applauded the girl, who seemed dazed and startled by what had just occurred.
Pointing to the door, Mick indicated that she could go. She hesitated for just one heartbeat and then, watching him warily she rushed to the door, throwing it open and walking right into the two burly bodyguards who provided Mick's security when he slept. One easily hoisted the squirming girl, the other idly glancing at Mick for orders. “She's to live,” Mick said simply. The two nodded and then pulled the door shut.
As Mick rose from his seat, he could hear her screaming as the two men took their use of her. Dismissing the fate of that female from his mind, Mick reached for a set of chains and locked them around the necks of the two women that were left. He tugged them by their necks to the foot of the bed, chaining each to a bedpost. Stepping over the corpses on the floor, Mick climbed into his bed for a well-deserved rest.
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