Post by Qasim Andraos on Jun 11, 2012 21:20:19 GMT -5
'Ard Amori
Ismaea
Two riders rode into camp. Between them was a man, tied to each of their saddles by his wrists. Barely conscious, covered in sand and dirt, the man had clearly been beaten badly, which had not been helped by being dragged for however many miles the riders had subjected him to.
He had been part of a small scouting party sent by another nearby group of tribesmen. The rest of the party was easily taken care of, their bodies buried in the sand to avoid discovery. This scout had run at first sight of Qasim's men, and not only was this a particularly cowardly thing to do (A trait that Qasim looked down on to the highest level), but some of his own men were beginning to doubt his utmost authority over them. Qasim had never been one for stirring speeches, and being in the middle of 'Ard Amori he couldn't shower them with whores and other such comforts. So there was only one way for him to establish his dominance. Violence.
"Bring him to me" Qasim shouted to the riders. They began to obey, dismounting their camels. But Qasim was suddenly struck with an idea.
"Wait."
The riders stopped their movement, puzzled. Qasim approached the three of them, grabbing the prisoner by his chin and forcing him to look up at him, then reaching back and slapping the man slightly, repeating the motion until he began to stir from his "rest". Releasing the man from his grip, Qasim grabbed one of the ropes confining him to the horse and untied it, wrapping it around the mans right ankle instead.
Now that he was conscious, the prisoner had begun yelling various obscenities at nobody in particular, this attracted the attention of the men who were nearby and they began to form a crowd in order to see what Qasim had planned.
"You two, get on" Qasim gestured at the two riders who had brought the man in. The riders mounted their horses, and the prisoner began to realize what it was Qasim intended to do.
"Please, good man, do not do this! In the name of Aminael and the name which he knows please do not do this!"
The prisoners cries switched between threatening and pathetic constantly as Qasim tightened the knot. When complete, Qasim rose and nodded to the riders and they set off galloping in opposite directions.
When the rope became taut, the only two sounds present in the sands were the screams of the prisoner and the crack of at least one bone in his body snapping. As the two horses struggled against the connection, a few of the more battle worthy men in the spectator crowd began whooping and cheering, arguing over which body part would come off. Their questions were then answered, as with a scream that would horrify a softer man, the prisoners lower leg was torn at the knee from his body, and he fell to the ground rolling in the blood which now spurted from his wound.
Qasim walked over to the suffering man and cut him loose of the remaining rope. Any words the prisoner had had devolved into incomprehensible stuttering. Qasim dragged him by his unbroken hand to a idle camel that was nearby, lifting his broken body from the ground and placing him as best he could in the saddle.
Before letting him loose, Qasim, in the most boisterous manner he could manage, declared
"Ride home, and tell them what you found!"
Ismaea
Two riders rode into camp. Between them was a man, tied to each of their saddles by his wrists. Barely conscious, covered in sand and dirt, the man had clearly been beaten badly, which had not been helped by being dragged for however many miles the riders had subjected him to.
He had been part of a small scouting party sent by another nearby group of tribesmen. The rest of the party was easily taken care of, their bodies buried in the sand to avoid discovery. This scout had run at first sight of Qasim's men, and not only was this a particularly cowardly thing to do (A trait that Qasim looked down on to the highest level), but some of his own men were beginning to doubt his utmost authority over them. Qasim had never been one for stirring speeches, and being in the middle of 'Ard Amori he couldn't shower them with whores and other such comforts. So there was only one way for him to establish his dominance. Violence.
"Bring him to me" Qasim shouted to the riders. They began to obey, dismounting their camels. But Qasim was suddenly struck with an idea.
"Wait."
The riders stopped their movement, puzzled. Qasim approached the three of them, grabbing the prisoner by his chin and forcing him to look up at him, then reaching back and slapping the man slightly, repeating the motion until he began to stir from his "rest". Releasing the man from his grip, Qasim grabbed one of the ropes confining him to the horse and untied it, wrapping it around the mans right ankle instead.
Now that he was conscious, the prisoner had begun yelling various obscenities at nobody in particular, this attracted the attention of the men who were nearby and they began to form a crowd in order to see what Qasim had planned.
"You two, get on" Qasim gestured at the two riders who had brought the man in. The riders mounted their horses, and the prisoner began to realize what it was Qasim intended to do.
"Please, good man, do not do this! In the name of Aminael and the name which he knows please do not do this!"
The prisoners cries switched between threatening and pathetic constantly as Qasim tightened the knot. When complete, Qasim rose and nodded to the riders and they set off galloping in opposite directions.
When the rope became taut, the only two sounds present in the sands were the screams of the prisoner and the crack of at least one bone in his body snapping. As the two horses struggled against the connection, a few of the more battle worthy men in the spectator crowd began whooping and cheering, arguing over which body part would come off. Their questions were then answered, as with a scream that would horrify a softer man, the prisoners lower leg was torn at the knee from his body, and he fell to the ground rolling in the blood which now spurted from his wound.
Qasim walked over to the suffering man and cut him loose of the remaining rope. Any words the prisoner had had devolved into incomprehensible stuttering. Qasim dragged him by his unbroken hand to a idle camel that was nearby, lifting his broken body from the ground and placing him as best he could in the saddle.
Before letting him loose, Qasim, in the most boisterous manner he could manage, declared
"Ride home, and tell them what you found!"