Thorshu's End

Thorshu's End

Postby Kobra » Thu Mar 13, 2003 10:53 pm

"Oi don' loik t'way 'e's lookin' at me, 'orace."

Two gravediggers stood in the rain, over a shallow hole in the ground. There'd be no gathered relatives at this funeral. Those few who had known Thorshu Vengaard couldn't see him in the ground soon enough.

Horace, the plump, stubble-faced digger, could now see why.

"S'jes him got the stiffs, s'be all. 'E's deadun, don't ye worreh."

"Oi 'eard 'e killed six guards 'fore he gave up 'is ghost."

"Six? Neh. Was jes the one. Grissom, wuz 'e, and a fair 'nuff fellow, bless 'im."

The two lapsed into grim silence. The rain, however, refused to pay its respects, and drizzled noisily on.

Nearby, a cart stood, drenched in the rain; it slicked the sides and gave the dried blood that still caked the half-orc's dead lips new moisture to trickle in gruesome waterfalls down his battered face.

The only reason he'd even be buried was to avoid the smell.

"Gads, oi 'ope 'e don't get washed loose n' this downpour. Oi'd 'ate fer some mum downtown t'find 'im wash'ed upta 'er backdoor."

"Ah jes wish 'ed stop smiling."

Furtive glances were cast to the lanky figure slumped on its side in the cart. Thorshu's ugly frame was curled there almost fetal, the long fingers curving inward like the legs of a dead spider. On his coarse dead face, the one dirt-caked and hateful eye still open and glassy - on that face, there lingered still a smug, broken-toothed grin.

"Y'know wot oi 'eard? Oi 'eard the one wot offed 'im 'ad some pretty words fer 'im. A vow, r'somethin'. And - and oi 'eard it wasn't it 'appened in the cell. Oi 'eard 'e was a fighter-"

"Colm, d'nae speak."

"Eh?"

"D'nae speak o' it. Ah'll not be 'earin' it. An' if yer got a drop o' brain in yer skull, y'll nae even think it agin."

A pause hung between the men. The ugly yellow eye stared onwards through the rain. They'd tried to close it, they'd tried to force his lips shut - but even Horace wouldn't stand to touch that face for too long.

Horace pursed his lips, and glared cockeyed at his companion.

"Get yer damned shovel. Stick 'im in 'is 'ole. S'a well-deserved one, wotever 'e be."

With great effort the two men slung Thorshu's carcass off the cart, carrying it the short distance awkwardly - then dropped it with a moist thud into the mud at the bottom of the hole.

"Cover 'm up. An' be quick wit' it! I'll n'suffer 'is ugly mug a moment longer."

Colm shuddered, and with the shovel in his skinny hands made sure the first lump of sodden earth that hit the corpse of Thorshu Vengaard covered the hideous smile - and the second blotted out that awful, staring eye...

They'll cheer for you, Vengaard. They're cheering, all for you.
"Life is but a moment - Legends are forever."

C.D.F.F
- The Kobra
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