The Coldest Story Ever Told []Open To Everyone[]
Dec 30, 2009 18:48:34 GMT -5
Post by Behind~The~Mask on Dec 30, 2009 18:48:34 GMT -5
[shadow=red,left,300]THE COLDEST STORY EVER TOLD[/shadow]
Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.
The whip crackled and bore deep its wound; flesh flew and crimson stained the earth around as another blow dug deeper and bleach white bone was made all but visible.
It was a punishment taken in the best of stride; the man did not offer a word to his defense, for his defiance is one best declared by silence. He was strung up in a courtyard of sorts, where a single tree stood, the last in city limits, a young elm still short but sturdy and healthy.
The ropes were thrown over the branches and the man was suspended; this final piece of a world lost to industry and steel was transformed into a spectacle for torture and despair. The bark was stained red with the rain continuing as the head peacekeeper cracked the whip once more.
100 lashes; only a quarter served and no care for the man apparent in the eyes of his tormentors. Riley Taigh, Head Peacekeeper, was a vicious specter drenched in blood with his grin revealing a darkness no human should bare against another.
I didn't stay too watch the end; but I knew what would follow and it went beyond the issued lashes. Excitement was something thrived for and the peacekeepers would prolong as long as possible. Soon, they would apply the iron, glowing red as it was basked in flame for such occasion.
As I turn and walk away I head off toward the east; the factories. There is really no where else to go for me, and really no place I know better. The temperature is dipping quickly and a frost could very well settle with nightfall. The factories; where the machines toll through cycles nonstop, will spare some heat to warm myself near, at least until I am caught and driven off.
My name is Pitch; don't think to much of the name or pause for a latter part, it is simply Pitch.
This is District III, the industrial bloom of Panem; too often people seem to glorify us. Factories! Electronics! Surely these people must have some wealth to their name. Bollocks. We hunger as much as anyone else, we are just hardy enough not to whine about it. The last meal I recall was having a piece of bread this morning; it was a delicacy, but I had little time to enjoy it as I had to try eat as much of it as possible before it was overgrown with the mold that had set its claim long before I came along.
I jump a gate and look around; I have come into the back alleyways. A labyrinth leading through the cities bowels and coming out in all corners. The way was littered with trash and filth; the odor and stench that lingered was only overshadowed by the gloom carried with it.
Efficiency. That is what District III strives to achieve; there is a fine line between saying and doing. Its been awhile since I've worked in one of the factories; even then I wasn't on the assembly line but I had worked in shipping; I was to help assign goods to be sent to the other districts, or more likely, the Capitol where the rich enjoyed the fruits of our labor.
Ironically, our Town Square sports a shoddy older screen thats hard to watch through the taped up cracked in some parts.
I continue on, treading through the wet ground, though it is a dry day; the people who lack a septic make the alleyways into theirs. Luckily, I have the sense enough to wrap my shoes in a plastic seal from the local stores; I can at least hold on to my health while i lose my sanity.
I can't really figure out what I was going to do today; but I remember waking up on my face with a pain in my back and a bruise on my eye. It could have meant a multitude of things but I shrug it off and try my best ro keep it off my mind.
I jump a final fence and look around; I have come to the factories, which are lined up in this sub-district, each one designated for its own production... So many things to do, I'll warm up her first then go off on my business.
What ever that may be...
[] This RP is open to anyone; particularly District III players. Good luck my friends and I do believe we can develop a nice little story, whether it be of the dramatic sort or action! []
Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.
- Mark Twain
The whip crackled and bore deep its wound; flesh flew and crimson stained the earth around as another blow dug deeper and bleach white bone was made all but visible.
It was a punishment taken in the best of stride; the man did not offer a word to his defense, for his defiance is one best declared by silence. He was strung up in a courtyard of sorts, where a single tree stood, the last in city limits, a young elm still short but sturdy and healthy.
The ropes were thrown over the branches and the man was suspended; this final piece of a world lost to industry and steel was transformed into a spectacle for torture and despair. The bark was stained red with the rain continuing as the head peacekeeper cracked the whip once more.
100 lashes; only a quarter served and no care for the man apparent in the eyes of his tormentors. Riley Taigh, Head Peacekeeper, was a vicious specter drenched in blood with his grin revealing a darkness no human should bare against another.
I didn't stay too watch the end; but I knew what would follow and it went beyond the issued lashes. Excitement was something thrived for and the peacekeepers would prolong as long as possible. Soon, they would apply the iron, glowing red as it was basked in flame for such occasion.
As I turn and walk away I head off toward the east; the factories. There is really no where else to go for me, and really no place I know better. The temperature is dipping quickly and a frost could very well settle with nightfall. The factories; where the machines toll through cycles nonstop, will spare some heat to warm myself near, at least until I am caught and driven off.
My name is Pitch; don't think to much of the name or pause for a latter part, it is simply Pitch.
This is District III, the industrial bloom of Panem; too often people seem to glorify us. Factories! Electronics! Surely these people must have some wealth to their name. Bollocks. We hunger as much as anyone else, we are just hardy enough not to whine about it. The last meal I recall was having a piece of bread this morning; it was a delicacy, but I had little time to enjoy it as I had to try eat as much of it as possible before it was overgrown with the mold that had set its claim long before I came along.
I jump a gate and look around; I have come into the back alleyways. A labyrinth leading through the cities bowels and coming out in all corners. The way was littered with trash and filth; the odor and stench that lingered was only overshadowed by the gloom carried with it.
Efficiency. That is what District III strives to achieve; there is a fine line between saying and doing. Its been awhile since I've worked in one of the factories; even then I wasn't on the assembly line but I had worked in shipping; I was to help assign goods to be sent to the other districts, or more likely, the Capitol where the rich enjoyed the fruits of our labor.
Ironically, our Town Square sports a shoddy older screen thats hard to watch through the taped up cracked in some parts.
I continue on, treading through the wet ground, though it is a dry day; the people who lack a septic make the alleyways into theirs. Luckily, I have the sense enough to wrap my shoes in a plastic seal from the local stores; I can at least hold on to my health while i lose my sanity.
I can't really figure out what I was going to do today; but I remember waking up on my face with a pain in my back and a bruise on my eye. It could have meant a multitude of things but I shrug it off and try my best ro keep it off my mind.
I jump a final fence and look around; I have come to the factories, which are lined up in this sub-district, each one designated for its own production... So many things to do, I'll warm up her first then go off on my business.
What ever that may be...
[] This RP is open to anyone; particularly District III players. Good luck my friends and I do believe we can develop a nice little story, whether it be of the dramatic sort or action! []
Thanks!]
