Word on the street is the Imperceptor of Shadowdale is dead..?

*Uralia dismisses the rumors* I don't think that one is dead. His will is too strong.

Being semi forced to watch, Ticla was Terrified at the sight of the lacerations. Every hit made her look away, wanting to run as far from the macabre scene as possible. Being supported by Morgan Ticla endured to watch, but her eyes were usually cast down on the ground. Nearing the two hundred lashes Ticla fell to her knees and could not bear to watch such torment.



They say it was Ticla, who was the only one who cried for the terrible display of torture.

Even to those she feared so much, she dared not wish such a treatment.

Among those briefly aware of the "drunken scene" unfolding, an average but pretentious wizard by the name of Josan Went could not hear clearly over the din of celebration and the sound of his own vomiting of rabbit stew and dark lager (guiness).

This being said, he was curious as to what the scene was all about, though the words were mostly muffled, and his sight of the incident blurred, possibly because of his errant drunkenness. But possibly it was just that his location did not offer him good visuals of the proceedings of the good Imperceptor and the altercation.

"What's an Imperceptor?" Azazel thinks to himself as he overhears the rumor being spread. Thinking better not to ask, so as not to look so new to the area, he continues on his way, hoping to hear more about this 'Imperceptor.'

Hooded Menace Malik Marduk spends most of his time in the apartments, the following days, with a few trips to the cathedral to pray at midnight, head bowed down in silence, his hood hiding his features.

Upon hearing this rumor, the only thing Ardylan could do was laugh.

First a grin and a giggle, then a chuckle... then finally, a hearty laugh full of joy. He sounded more like a man celebrating his final blow to his nemesis than a man simply hearing a rumor floating out from the muck-puddle known as Shadowdale.

"What a buffoon! An ox of an orc! I don't know what he did or why he ordered himself to be punished, but I hope he's dead - and I hope he rots in the deepest depths of the hells!"

Ardylan had an extra bounce in his step and a grin on his face the entire day.

The following days after the public lashing, a large Thayan seems to actively engage patrons at the local Inn during the evening. He idnetifies himself as a Mr. Zalff, under the service of the local Red Wizards. Those that manage to get past the Thayan's terrifying appearance due to his heavily scarred flesh and vile tattoos covering his features, are treated to a court and simple retelling of how a terrible punishment was dealt on the Imperceptor by his own admission of guilt at being publicly and visibly drunk during the recent Festival taking place in the northern farmlands, and picking up a fight with one of the locals.

Uncharacteristically for him, as he usually is rather aloof and distant from the locals due to his dour expression, menacing size and build and intimidating appearance, the Thayan makes an effort to be amicable and even affable while relating the story, even inviting a drink to anyone willing to sit down and listen to his true and first hand account of how the punishment was dealt, and how he personally helped carry the orcblood after the end of it, and he certainly was still alive.

Mr. Zalff makes sure to stress out the severity of the punishment and how tough Imperceptor Wuuq truly is to have survived that high number of leashes on his bare back, a clear sign that he must have the favors of Bane, the Black Hand, and Loviatar, the Maiden of Pain. Vehemently he dismisses the rumors of the Imperceptor's death, and calls a fool anyone claiming such. He finishes off by preaching to the locals about following the Willing Whip:

Quote :

"The world is filled with pain and torment, and the best that one can do is to suffer those blows that cannot be avoided and deal as much pain back to those who offend. The Mystery of Loviatar's Mercy is plain to see in how the Imperceptor lived through such a terrible punishment, and his wounds have miraculously healed in a matter of days. The Black Hand must have given the Imperceptor his favor, to allow him to continue his service yet in this life.

Pain tests all, but gives strength of spirit and true pleasure to the hardy and the true. There is no true punishment if the punisher knows no discipline. Wherever a whip is, there is Loviatar. Fear her — and yet long for her. Pray to her, and she will give you the strength to bear the pain, and overcome it. In these times where rebels and bandits attack, drow raid the roads and the forest and there is an uncertain future ahead, Her Caress is needed more than ever."