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The throbbing pain in his side has dwindled to a dull pain. He had become used to it, as well as the sticky feeling the blood pouring from his wounds left, and the metallics scent in the room. The moans of pain from the woman in the cell across from him, however, began to aggravate him.
"Lady, why don't you just shut the hell up?! ******** complaining does nothing!" he growled, gripping the bars in front of him - they were the only thing stopping him from shutting her up himself. But she continued her moaning. Her sobbing. The screams of pain that others would sometimes shout- piercing the air with their voice. That all set him on edge.
He needed blood.
A guard's voice brought him out of his thoughts, "You! Get back from the bars!" the crack of a whip followed his shout, yet the prisoner wouldn't move. A grin broke out on his face as the guard moved closer to the bars.
"******** useless, the lot of you-" the guard was complaining as he moved closer, putting his face right in front of the prisoner's, "I hate you scum. All of you are just wasting space." and just as the guard spat in the prisoner's face, his neck was also pierced by the prisoner's sharp fingernails, sputtering blood all over the bars as he struggled to free himself. But it was too late.
The prisoner was grinning madly, a look of bloodlust in his eyes as he retrieved a dagger from the corpse. He then retreated to the corner of his cell, shouts coming from outside.
The body had been seen.
Other guards crowded to the cell, some casting him angry glances as others carried the body off. A particularly angry guard unlocked the gate with shaking hands. His eyes blazed with fury as he drew his sword. The prisoner merely looked up at him from his seat in the ground.
Grinning.
A yell. The flash of a blade ready to kill. That's all anyone saw before realizing the prisoner was armed. And from there, all hell broke loose. One, two three- each guard was killed with a swift slice to the throat or a stab to their gut, laughter echoing through the prison as blood pooled all over the floor. Then, all was quiet save the whimpering of those who remained on the fringe of life. By this point, he had acquired two swords, and strapped their sheaths to his back, as well as five daggers, their sheaths at his hip.
So he exited the prison, and quickly stole new garments to wear.
The Assassin was on the loose.
Queen Momo Ferno · Thu Apr 17, 2014 @ 10:48pm · 0 Comments |
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