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10-23-2003, 10:44 AM #1
The Vulture of Vosgaard, continued....
"Different tribes have different traditions, of course... and the word
`tradition` is, perhaps, too strong to describe the methods used, for there
are many means of execution employed, and none employed so regularly or
with such devotion that they would constitute a `tradition` in the sense
that we in the south might use the term. The Vos have a very harsh system
of punishment, of course, with a set of crimes and infractions alien to the
more civilized mind. Death is a common sentence. It is meted out for
things as minor as petty theft. Murder, of course, is only occasionally
punished in any legal manner, but when a murder is given over to the system
of justice the penalty is generally only a fine. I tell you this to convey
the context of the situation I faced, when I was subjected to Vos
justice. I had very little hope that my life might be spared."
"Though death is a common sentence, sentencing does not end there. The
means of death is used to determine severity of punishment, and those in
the position to sentence the convicted have a panoply of methods from which
to choose. For lesser crimes a criminal might die a quick death by
beheading or he may dance upon the gibbet for a short while. More serious
crimes, however, earn a more serious and painful demise for the
convict. Slow torture is, of course, a favored method of execution for it
much pleases their gods. Many devilish devices have been invented for this
purpose, and a small caste of experts has sprung up to employ them. They
are quite skilled, and one of the few tradesmen that the Vos have sincere
admiration."
"In my case, the crime of which I was found guilty--I do not say that I was
guilty of that crime, for I was not--was a relatively mild one. Mild by
civilized standards, that is. To the barbarous Vos it was an heinous
act. Or perhaps it was merely my foreignness and vulnerability that earned
me such punishment. I was in Vosgaard engaged in some speculative trade
and looking for a regular market, you see. One of the goods I was peddling
was a concoction derived from the root of the eckle vine. Mixed with the
red berries of the torroro bush it makes a thick, pungent liqueur that my
associates and I dubbed bloodwine for sale amongst the sanguine residents
of Vosgaard. The beverage was believed responsible for several
poisonings. Several people were sickened and one, I`m afraid, was rendered
blind in days following our sale, but I reiterate that these unfortunates
were not harmed by the bloodwine that I sold them. I did sell them the
spirits, but whatever the malady was that afflicted them had nothing to do
with my goods. I have drunk the stuff myself--enough to know that it is
not to my taste--and I have not been rendered blind, nor have I
died.... No thanks to my former customers, that is."
"Please imagine what it was like for me in those days. I was a rather
naive young man from a prominent merchant clan. This was my first foray
out of Khinasi lands, and the wilds of Vosgaard were new to me. I was not
fully prepared for the shock of the culture here. On the day I arrived a
fight broke out between two women on the street. Some very large warriors
arrived whom I took to be the authorities, but instead of breaking up the
brawl they merely egged the women on. When one drew a knife from her
basket one of the spectating warriors actually drew his own dagger and
tossed it to her opponent that it should remain a fair fight. Horrified, I
turned from the spectacle. Several Vos children guffawed at my squeamishness."
"My trial was brief, if a trial it can be called. Just a few spare moments
before a local puppet warlord--and I was allowed little opportunity to
defend myself. He ordered that I be executed in the manner most commonly
used in that region. The Vulture`s Wake, they called it. You see, it is
the funerary custom of that tribe to take their dead into the mountains
where these magnificent birds that surround me reside. The body of the
deceased is dismembered and fed to vultures while his family and loved
one`s celebrate his passage to the afterlife with various ritualistic
songs, drinking and the telling of the departed`s deeds in life."
"The Vulture`s Wake is a horrid parody of this already barbarous
ritual. The man to be executed man is heavily shrouded in heavy clothes so
tightly that he cannot move. The victim must watch as he is slowly
dismembered and his steaming flesh fed to the vultures before his very
eyes. The ordeal begins at the feet, and they tie off his limbs with
tourniquets most cunningly as they go, preventing him from bleeding to
death too quickly. They begin with the toes and then the fingers, and then
they... well, I see I am upsetting you, so I will simply say that by the
skill of the executioner many such executions have been said to go on for
several hours. It is called the Vulture`s Wake for there is no family to
celebrate the life of the dead. The funeral is for the vultures alone. I
suppose in some ways it is for the Vos equivalent to being buried alive,
for who does not have a horror of lying insensible but aware as their body
is treated as if it were dead?"
"It is also considered a very ignoble death amongst the war-like Vos as I`m
sure you can imagine. Not that I was concerned by such a thing, but it
illustrates their disregard for me and the crime of which I was
accused. It is that disdain that has fueled my hatred, and fills me with
rage...."
"Fortunately, it was not my destiny to suffer the horrors of that death,
blessed be the Powers. As I lay upon the stone platform awaiting the first
stroke of my killer--sometimes called The Executioner`s Caress by the
unsubtle Vos--the warriors that accompanied the procession were in high
spirits. One fearless vulture hopped forward to view the prospective
meal. He looked me directly in the eye. Could it be that I saw sympathy
there? Of course, it was ridiculous that this bird could recognize the
injustice of my plight or the rage that it instilled in me, but strangely
his gaze seemed to help assuage my anger and calmed me, for in that gaze I
saw that at least for the birds themselves there was nothing personal about
the event. In fact, there was a quiet nobility in that bird`s eyes that I
found heartening."
"It was then that one of the warriors who had accompanied the execution
party lashed out and struck the vulture I had been communing with
down. With a laugh he quickly cut out its heart and thrust it into my
mouth as a final act of humiliation. This raised a roar of amusement from
those present--the sense of irony among Vos warriors is quite acute. I
struggled to breath but was forced to swallow the organ. The coppery taste
of blood filled my mouth, and I fought the urge to gag. I could feel life
pulsing in the heart as I gulped it down. But there was something more."
"In all the years that the Vos dead had been fed to these vultures how many
of their strongest warriors had that beast tasted? Generations of Vos
nobles had been devoured by like generations of these birds. Countless
hearts and minds devoured by them over and over again. Can you imaging
what powers these animals must have absorbed? Look about you a these birds
here. I do not expect that you are very familiar with creatures of this
breed, but I can assure you that they are not typical of their
species. Can you imagine what strengths they contain? Do they appear dumb
animals to you? Can you see their strength and intelligence? They look
back at your with clear, knowing eyes not as dumb animals do, but as what
they truly are, beings gifted with a consciousness that rivals your own."
As I looked from one bird to the next, each met my stare with a calm,
unflinching regard. I realized that what he spoke was not only true, but
that it may even have been an understatement. The vultures did not look at
me with simple awareness. They seemed to have a bearing of
confidence. They wre even... gloating. As I stared at them my eyes went
wide in recognition not of the simple acknowledgement of their
intelligence, but that they felt themselves superior--knew themselves to
superior--and that my presence in their midst, my knowledge of their
sentience, the very continuance of my life was at their pleasure. They
looked at me with dark, feral eyes that glimmered with amusement at my
realization, and I got the distinct impression that they the moment was
something that they had long anticipated. The Vulture himself drew my
attention by raising to his full height and unfolding his dark wings before
me. As the shadow of that feathered expanse fell upon me I could see the
acknowledgement of my shock in his eyes. His visage grew grim and
determined. Gone was the gentility that I sensed there only moments before.
"Now that you know our secret, I can tell you why you are here. You are to
make this secret known to the world. These mountains are now mine and my
flock`s. We will put to death any other human who comes here
uninvited. Furthermore, bring this message to the barbarians who accosted
me, falsely accused me, set themselves up as my judges and executioners;
tell them that I am coming. I will bring death down upon them from the
skies. Once again vultures will take on their ancient role in the scheme
of the afterlife, but now they shall surpass it. We will be bringers of
death not shepherds of the dead. Go now and take my message to the people
of the lowlands. Tell them their time is near."
End, part II (domain and character description to follow)
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