Post by Sedaia on Jan 14, 2007 21:49:33 GMT -5
Eleven guardsmen had died in their sleep.
Young men and women, hard workers, living in pursuit of justice on city pay, they had always shown a readiness to lose their lives upholding their duty... but not like this, executed, honorlessly, in their sleep.
Each pale throat was torn into thin strips of flesh, the wound so deep that the veins, windpipe, and even vocal chords, were completely severed and opened to the air. Each thin, hard bunk, dripped red, the white linen sheets soaked through, the blood pooling in the cracks of the stone floor.
How had it happened? In the heart of Sanctuary? Awakening in the morning to relieve the Night Guards, the deaths were instantaneously apparent. Guards rushed through the barracks hither and yon, worrying, panicking, investigating. A warm breeze blew in through the high set, arrow windows, the sun alighting on the massacre. Few conclusions could be drawn. One thing was certain- their throats had been torn by small sharp teeth in a terribly powerful jaw. One of the fangs was found deeply imbedded in flesh.
Whatever had done it was small. Whatever had done it was stealthy, having slipped past the many layers of guardsmen patrolling Sanctuary and the barracks themselves. And whatever had done it was intelligent... the deceased consisted of all the surviving members of the Third Guard Regement... all those that had not died the previous day in the fires of the invading monster. One hour later, the regiment's commander, Laurentine Watts, was also found dead in his home by the same means. His wife who had been sleeping next to him was alive, and had heard nothing.
Word spread like wildfire from ear to ear in the city, everyone wispering, everyone worrying.
What good were the guards if they couldn't even protect themselves?
Young men and women, hard workers, living in pursuit of justice on city pay, they had always shown a readiness to lose their lives upholding their duty... but not like this, executed, honorlessly, in their sleep.
Each pale throat was torn into thin strips of flesh, the wound so deep that the veins, windpipe, and even vocal chords, were completely severed and opened to the air. Each thin, hard bunk, dripped red, the white linen sheets soaked through, the blood pooling in the cracks of the stone floor.
How had it happened? In the heart of Sanctuary? Awakening in the morning to relieve the Night Guards, the deaths were instantaneously apparent. Guards rushed through the barracks hither and yon, worrying, panicking, investigating. A warm breeze blew in through the high set, arrow windows, the sun alighting on the massacre. Few conclusions could be drawn. One thing was certain- their throats had been torn by small sharp teeth in a terribly powerful jaw. One of the fangs was found deeply imbedded in flesh.
Whatever had done it was small. Whatever had done it was stealthy, having slipped past the many layers of guardsmen patrolling Sanctuary and the barracks themselves. And whatever had done it was intelligent... the deceased consisted of all the surviving members of the Third Guard Regement... all those that had not died the previous day in the fires of the invading monster. One hour later, the regiment's commander, Laurentine Watts, was also found dead in his home by the same means. His wife who had been sleeping next to him was alive, and had heard nothing.
Word spread like wildfire from ear to ear in the city, everyone wispering, everyone worrying.
What good were the guards if they couldn't even protect themselves?
