[D8, EE] Execution (Open)

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

A little before sunset, Corrine &
Benedict Marsten stand grimly before a wooden gallows, constructed in the imposing shadow of The Warrior's Seat. Corrine is resolute and cold as stone, while Ben holds Ser Jon Roxton's sword, Orphan-Maker, borrowed for his grave task this day.

The three condrmned commoners, Sandor, Arthur, and Terry stand in line, Marsten knights at their backs, their heads through the nooses. Nearby, is the block, upon which Maester Arran is to be beheaded by Lord Marsten.

Arthur is quietly defiant, sad but resolved. Sandor struggles, weeping at the last, but is restrained by Ser Jaime Stone. Terry prays for forgiveness and cries a little, but attempts to be brave.

Maester Arran attempts to be dignified, mostly managing despite his limp causing him to stumble on his way to the block.

Lady Marsten reads the men's charges, and asks if they have any last words, her ice blue eyes boring particularly hard into Maester Arran's face, her loathing silent, but palpable.

[Reader]

[ooc: subscribing to thread. NPC reactions were discussed with Corrine previously and have my approval. I will revisit this, but feel free to note your reactions to proceedings in this thread.]

[Samurel Manderly]

Samurel put together a disguise before the proceedings of the execution. Something not too off color for his usual garb, Peasants clothes, just dirty enough to suggest field work but not so dirty as to disgust to user or the people around him. [url=Deception (Disguise)][/url]: 5d6k4+3 21 (Should be 20, not 21, did +3 isn't of +2)

Weaving through the small crowd of peasants that more then likely has shown up to witness the executions, Sam places himself such that he has a clear view of his Patrons and their charges. [url=Stealth (Blend In)][/url]: 5d6k4+3 20 (This +3 is where it should have been!)

A distasteful curl encompassed Sam's otherwise neutral expression.
That Servant should be getting much worse then this... its one thing to follow orders or your own twisted righteousness to an end, another to betray those whom you serve, especially out of a perceived need. I'd wager he didn't even ask his lord to help him before the attack... a pity really, he's being spared in my eyes, were he have betrayed my house, father would have been much harsher, and in turn I would be harsher still were this have happen to my Lady or her Husband.

After witnessing the executions Sam clears out alongside the peasant crowd.

[Kevan Lyras]

Kevan was not sure what to think as he saw the wooden platform give way and the three figures lost their footing, the rope around their neck halting their fall.

For Sandor and Arthur, death was an efficient way to bring justice. It was Terry however, where the Marsten knight was conflicted.
The man did wrong to save his son from dying. Wouldn't you have done the same for Robbin?
He betrayed the House he served! This is only a fair punishment for a traitor!
And you think paying for that boy's medicine will absolve you from taking that servant from his family! What do you expect from that?
You did right. A crime is a crime independent of your motives!
And so Kevan was standing in the crowd in front of the gallows long after the three had found their deaths...

[Ser Jorah Holt]

Ser Jorah watched the executions in a detached manner. The men being executed as he understood it deserved their fate, though any person being sent to the Stranger in such a fashion deserved some sympathy.

Lord Wylde had asked to see him, but as the crowd began to part, he spotted Ser Kevan stood watching the scene still. You can spare a few moments for your friend, you still have some time until you have to go. Walking over, he touched Ser Kevan on the shoulder.

"
Ser Kevan, is everything alright?"
he asked concerned.

ooc
I'm presuming that this takes place before Lord Wylde's announcement.

[Kevan Lyras]

Kevan's head snapped around, as Jorah's hand touched him. "
Oh, Jorah! Sorry I was just a bit lost in thought and did not hear you approach. Yes.... I am ok, I guess. It is... sometimes it is hard to decide what is right and fair, especially when it comes to bad things committed for good motives..."

[Ser Jorah Holt]

"
One of the deaths has you conflicted? As you were part of those who uncovered the assassination plot, I ask you did he deserve to be executed?"

[Kevan Lyras]

"
It is the servant's death that was not that easy to bear. He deserved his fate. It was me who took him into custody and I also made sure he would end up on the gallows. But knowing his motives makes it not that easy to see him hang. You know, he willingly sold out the information about House Blackwood that eventually resulted in Lord Blackwood's death. But he also did it to save his sick son who desperately needed very expensive medicine to stay alive... As much as I condemn him for his actions, I cannot help but feel remorse for having a father killed who just wanted to save his son...I have a son myself.."

[Ser Jorah Holt]

"
As I think would any parent faced with the loss of their child, who is then offered a chance to save them, but at the expense of somebody else."
Jorah pondered the matter, "
of course, he still had a choice to come forward and admit that he had been approached. One would have to be a heartless lord to ignore the plight of a child, especially when they have a master and somebody has come forward with details of a plot against their life."


And perhaps deserved of their fate if that was their response

"
It was the right choice, just not one that is easy to stomach and we can see ourselves in his position, hoping we would somehow do better."

[Kevan Lyras]

Kevan sighed, before answering: "
You are off course right my friend, as usual. He had a choice and decided the wrong way."
, he raised his head and looked Jorah in the eyes: "
Thank you, Jorah!"

[Nathaniel Mason]

Nathan stands on a small hill overlooking the execution grounds. Too far away to hear any last words by the men, but really, what more could they say that hasn't already been said.

So Arran was getting beheaded, by Orphan-maker no less. Very quick. Very clean. Far far better than he deserved. Nathan had advocated for a more painful poetic death. It would seem the powers that be had little stomach for poetry.

Most assumed that Nathan's desire for poisoning or burning was out of vengeance, and he had been only too happy to let them think that. The truth was, he had ceased to care about what happened to Arran days ago. What was done was done and could not be changed. Guilt, misery, vengeance, they were all wounds that victims inflicted on themselves over and over, doing more damage than the initial injustice ever did. The entire Blackwood/Bracken feud was steeped in this cycle of eternal suffering. Nathan would have no part in it.

Nathan's desire to exact a harsher punishment was simple math. Arran was an old man. The years they took from him now, quick and clean, were but a handful. Small price to pay against the hundreds of collective years he took from the people of Blackbuckle. The price he paid now was just a breath on the scales;
little better than just sending him to his room for his remaining days. His victims deserved better.

Still, it was what is was. Moments from now it would be done, and it too could not be changed. Hopefully the dead of Blackbuckle would rest easy knowing he had done as much for them and their loved ones as he could. Perhaps Arran will be met with justice in the next world.

Long before the valyrian steel fell, Nathan turned his back on the proceedings;
his mind moving on to more pressing concerns.

[Benedict Marsten]

Lord Marsten stands stoically beside his lady wife, his dark green cloak hangs wet and limp about him. His left hand clasps the scabbard of Orphan-maker. Corrine's reading of the charges barely finds residence in his mind. The actions and words of the condemned he listens to intently. A man must hear the last peace of those whose life he is to take.

A loud creak accompanies the plummeting bodies, but neither it nor the snap of the noose disturbs Ben's demeanor. With the commoners punishment fullfilled he squeezes his Lady wife's hand before he moves to the block and Arran.

An abrupt glimpse of a far away grief betrays his countenance. This was not his first time passing a death sentence. The taught skin of his numerous scars begin to itch. Pushing the physical and mental dramatics from his mind, he draws Orphan-maker. The rippling steel matches the heavy downpour of the day. The blade raises over his head as his eyes find Arran's. Ben nods, and in an instant the shining steel arcs through the air shimmering like lightning through the heavens.

Arran rolls a short distance mouth a gap and eyes wide as if his last sight was off the fate that awaited him. A swift tug and Orphan-maker pulls free of the block it was buried deep into. The falling rain mingles with dark blood coating the blade and cascades to the soggy ground. With a practiced precision Ben cleans and sheaths the instrument. It finds a dry and safe place beneath his cloak before he makes his way to his wife.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"
It is done,"
Corrine intones, plainly, to the gathering. "
May you all have a safe journey to your homes."


She quietly pulls her cloak mpre closely around her, and takes her leave. She had not the energy for speeches. These men had gotten better than they deserved, and it felt like a hollow victory, having dispensed such weak justice.

"
I wish to see Nathan,"
she tells Ben, confidentially. Placing a light kiss on his cheek, she leaves quietly.

[Ser Jorah Holt]

Kevan sighed, before answering: "
You are off course right my friend, as usual. He had a choice and decided the wrong way."
, he raised his head and looked Jorah in the eyes: "
Thank you, Jorah!"

"
You are welcome Kevan, sometimes we just need to talk about this sort of feeling."


After talking to the Prince, I now have to fight a battle to avenge an assassination attempt. Was that the right decision?

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth stands quietly throughout, simply observing the events.

When I am Lord, it will be my hands holding the sword. I will no longer have the option of keeping my hands clean of blood.

So, you will not seek to have someone else do that duty for you there as well? Maybe hand that over to your wife, like you intend with your martial duties if your current plans pan out?

No. I am physically and mentally incapable of fulfilling my martial duties. Simply executing someone, I can do, so I should.

Are you so sure you can do it? Remember the size of typical executioner swords, then look at your arms. Do you seriously believe you can raise that above your head for the strike without falling over? Won't that be a lordly sight?

Daveth has a mental image of seeing himself struggling to raise a large sword on an execution platform before overbalancing and falling off, in front of a large crowd of his smallfolk. Then, he looks down and considers his arms for a few moments. It is not the highest priority, but at some point, I do have to work on my strength. Even if I never swing a sword in anger, being a Lord will have other burdens I'll need the strength to carry.

He watches dispassionately as Lord Marsten executes Arran, then starts studying his hands. Lord Benedict may have been the one who struck the blow, and yet, I feel that I am truly the one who killed him, for once my part was done, there was truly no other possible outcome. I think, given my lack of martial ability, he is the first man I've killed. I do not regret that - he clearly deserved his fate. But still, something feels like it's changed. Only a Lord has the right of pit and gallows. Slowly, the burdens of lordship are taking hold.

He stares at the body for a while longer. I do not believe I will ever forget you, or your works, much as I might wish otherwise. He sighs. But such is duty, I suppose.

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