Post by Cyrus on Apr 3, 2022 3:26:29 GMT
"Darius Trask, for the crimes of piracy and murder, we brand thee pirate and sentence thee to hang by the neck until dead. You will be imprisoned until midnight on the full moon, at which point you will receive justice for your crimes."
There is an interesting thing about moments when a person's life is in danger. People don't remember everything. In fact, the mind tends to focus on immediate threats to life and limb like a tunnel. The robed, bespectacled old magistrate pronouncing his sentence. The grinning bailiffs approaching, sadists wrapped in the protection of the King's flag like public service was justification. The burning, red-hot brand with the letter P that the Sheriff held in his hand with a huge grin on his face.
Murder was a strong way of putting what he had done. It was just one of those moments where he snapped. Saw one too many awful people doing awful things. The Spirit hissing in his head, insisting he intervene. He'd put down a rabid fucking dog of a man. Too bad it was a wealthy nobleman's youngest son. Another had escaped and called for the Watch. If it had been a commoner, he would have been a hero. Unfortunately, doing what was Right did not always mean doing what was Legal. It would have been easier to just stick to stealing shipboard goods.
"Do you have anything you wish to say before this Court's sentence is carried out?"
The brand hovered close to his cheek, his bulging eyes staring at it. He bucked against the chains and the rough men holding him down.
"I'm sorry, Your Honour."
He paused, feeling the hands loosen a little. The magistrate leaned forward and peered down his spectacles, a look of surprise on his face.
Then, the yellowish wad of spit and phlegm tagged the judge in the cheek. The old man blinked, and as the wad began to slide down his cheek, the pirate started to laugh maniacally.
"Sorry I didn't get the other piece of shit, too."
That was when the brand hit his bare chest, right side just above the nipple. The skin sizzled under incredible heat, forever burning the scarlet letter into his hide. The pirate grit his teeth, then screamed as the brand left its mark before he was dragged away for transportation to his final destination.
A night later, the convict known as Darius Trask disappeared, the ship carrying him dashed against rocks in a storm with no known survivors.
There is an interesting thing about moments when a person's life is in danger. People don't remember everything. In fact, the mind tends to focus on immediate threats to life and limb like a tunnel. The robed, bespectacled old magistrate pronouncing his sentence. The grinning bailiffs approaching, sadists wrapped in the protection of the King's flag like public service was justification. The burning, red-hot brand with the letter P that the Sheriff held in his hand with a huge grin on his face.
Murder was a strong way of putting what he had done. It was just one of those moments where he snapped. Saw one too many awful people doing awful things. The Spirit hissing in his head, insisting he intervene. He'd put down a rabid fucking dog of a man. Too bad it was a wealthy nobleman's youngest son. Another had escaped and called for the Watch. If it had been a commoner, he would have been a hero. Unfortunately, doing what was Right did not always mean doing what was Legal. It would have been easier to just stick to stealing shipboard goods.
"Do you have anything you wish to say before this Court's sentence is carried out?"
The brand hovered close to his cheek, his bulging eyes staring at it. He bucked against the chains and the rough men holding him down.
"I'm sorry, Your Honour."
He paused, feeling the hands loosen a little. The magistrate leaned forward and peered down his spectacles, a look of surprise on his face.
Then, the yellowish wad of spit and phlegm tagged the judge in the cheek. The old man blinked, and as the wad began to slide down his cheek, the pirate started to laugh maniacally.
"Sorry I didn't get the other piece of shit, too."
That was when the brand hit his bare chest, right side just above the nipple. The skin sizzled under incredible heat, forever burning the scarlet letter into his hide. The pirate grit his teeth, then screamed as the brand left its mark before he was dragged away for transportation to his final destination.
A night later, the convict known as Darius Trask disappeared, the ship carrying him dashed against rocks in a storm with no known survivors.