Post by Krysta on Dec 11, 2010 1:52:30 GMT -5
The wind blew by, tossing around the blood covered hair of the dead. A forest of the dead. A forest of many people killed through impalement for evil acts of crimes they had committed, the height of the stake signaling their rank in life. Most were dead, some were catching there last breathes before they finally, after hours, for some even days, of excruciating torture, died. This was a method of teaching his people to behave, and that crimes would not be taken lightly in his rule. Some were thieves, whom had been tortured by having the skin of their feet removed, covered in salt and licked away by goats. Some where women who had committed adultery, and some were nobles and boyers. But most of them were turks. Ones that worked for the Ottoman and were killed to protect this little piece of the world from their rule.
Vlad III Dracula, better known as the 'Son of the Dragon' or 'Son of the Devil' sat in a luxuriant chair, watching a nearby executioner cut and kill people who disobeyed. The Forest of Stakes around him as he dinned.
After taking a drink, he noticed something strange. His servant was holding his nose. He wiped his lips, his mustache holding a few drops of the wine he had been drinking before he wiped it away. He asked his servant why on earth he was holding his nose. To Vlad it was odd, he didn't smell anything bad. Was his servant just being strange?
The servant replied, stating that he could not stand the smell. The smell of the corpses that had been sitting on those stakes for months blew past the servant as the wind caught it, making the servant wish he was somewhere else at the moment.
Vladimir thought about it for a few moments, stroking his chin. It was funny and yet it was disrespectful to him. He rather liked the smell of the turks rotting. But then again his nose had gotten use to it long ago. A smile graced his lips as he thought of something, quite funny actually.
He summoned a few of his loyal subjects, ordering them to impale his servant on one of the highest stakes. The servant's mouth was left wide open, and he begged to not be impaled. But it would not go through as he was dragged and slowly impaled on the highest stake in the Forest of Stakes.
But on the plus side, he now had fresh air to breathe.
I honestly have no clue what drove me to write this little piece of... writing. I guess I just felt like writing the little scene I had in my head when I was reading about Vlad Tepes and came upon this little act he had done out of humor.
Vlad III Dracula, better known as the 'Son of the Dragon' or 'Son of the Devil' sat in a luxuriant chair, watching a nearby executioner cut and kill people who disobeyed. The Forest of Stakes around him as he dinned.
After taking a drink, he noticed something strange. His servant was holding his nose. He wiped his lips, his mustache holding a few drops of the wine he had been drinking before he wiped it away. He asked his servant why on earth he was holding his nose. To Vlad it was odd, he didn't smell anything bad. Was his servant just being strange?
The servant replied, stating that he could not stand the smell. The smell of the corpses that had been sitting on those stakes for months blew past the servant as the wind caught it, making the servant wish he was somewhere else at the moment.
Vladimir thought about it for a few moments, stroking his chin. It was funny and yet it was disrespectful to him. He rather liked the smell of the turks rotting. But then again his nose had gotten use to it long ago. A smile graced his lips as he thought of something, quite funny actually.
He summoned a few of his loyal subjects, ordering them to impale his servant on one of the highest stakes. The servant's mouth was left wide open, and he begged to not be impaled. But it would not go through as he was dragged and slowly impaled on the highest stake in the Forest of Stakes.
But on the plus side, he now had fresh air to breathe.
I honestly have no clue what drove me to write this little piece of... writing. I guess I just felt like writing the little scene I had in my head when I was reading about Vlad Tepes and came upon this little act he had done out of humor.