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Old December 18th, 2011, 06:19 PM
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Wymsical
V.S. The Wymsical Champion
 
Join Date: Nov 2011
Location: You don't need to know, bruvah.
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Nature: Relaxed
Sade Frost
Destruction of Liberty


"Well, it looks like I shall have to leave my mission to Poseida alone for now." Levin said. He and Frost had just received their secret orders from Auron, nobody knew what they were going to do, but it was known that it was a mission of pure destruction - just the kind Frost loved. "I can't wait, honestly. Nobody cares about your stupid little escapade to spy on what has already been destroyed." Frost replied. "Well, that was uncalled for." Levin answered, teasingly. "Nothing is ever called for, sweetie. You of all people should know that." Frost said, grinning. She had a very good recollection of the two's past. She knew everything about him just like he knew everything about her. That is, almost everything. Frost grinned again at the thought. "Now go on, old man, your petty rabble won't wait any longer." She said, referring to his army. The Deceiver scoffed, and was on his way. Frost decided to prepare as well. Before going, it was best to check up on the torturehouse to see if there was any unfinished business.

Indeed, there was. A lowly farmer, went by the name of Churchill, was still ready to be imprisoned. He'd been awaiting his grim fate for at least an hour now. "So, peasant, what did you do?" Frost boomed in the great main torture room in the house. A Machoke pushed the farmer out of the shadows, revealing his face. The farmer was no farmer, just a boy. "A farmer's child?" she teased. "Y-yes." the farmer replied, in what appeared to be an Irish accent. "He-" a Machoke began, but Frost cut him off. "Shut up, guard, I want the boy to explain his actions." she chided. The guard stepped back into the dark. The torturehouse, as always, smelled of death, the boy, a Snivy, flinched at the smell, deathly afraid. "I-I stole s-s-some celery from-m the g-g-uy n-next door." the poor boy stuttered. "Mmmhmm, and do you know who 'the guy next door is'?" Frost said, in a seemingly nice voice, which made the Snivy a little less afraid. "He has powerful connections, boy, and that's why you're here. To receive punishment." Frost teased, still. "Oh n-no, p-p-p-please! I-I'll repay him!" the boy half screamed half pleaded. "Yes, I'm sure you will." Frost said. She grabbed the Snivy's little arm and guided him to a simple wooden table. The table was made from weak wood, and it looked like it might break any minute. It was little, but it had several markings in it, like an axe had been lodged in it many a time. There were also blood stains on it, like everything else in the cursed room. "What-what will you do t-to me?" the boy started to resist Frost's grip, but she only tightened. "You'll see. I'll give you what every bad boy deserves." Frost giggled, she laid him on the table, sine he was too short to reach it, she had to lay him on it whole. "Now, extend your hand." Frost instructed. The boy did so, reluctantly. Before he knew it, Frost drew a butcher's knife from under the tale and held it high, she descended it upon the boy, who shut his eyes in terror. With a swift stroke, Frost cut off the boy's hand. The boy screamed out in pain, however tiny his voice was. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "You see, Churchill, this is what happens to naughty little boys. Because deep down in your heart, you know you deserve to be punished." Frost whispered. She then turned to the Machoke. "Take him to the holding cell, I'll deal with him later." she ordered. The Machoke rushed to the boy's side and picked him up, he then threw him in a cell at the end of the room. This cell was significantly larger than the prison cells, it was known as the holding cell. Frost put people in here when she was too busy to decide their fate now.

Before long she was back at the front ready with troops of her own. Frost approached Levin and Inferno. "Come boys, let us proceed. To Freedom, to . . . Liberty."
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