The tension in the air was suffocating. You could practically reach your hand out and feel it, at least Emurlahn could, but he was a mage after all.
Though he hadn't been in the town for long he still knew there was something wrong, an execution shouldn't take that long. People was usually quick to find a victim, someone to blame for the latest murder(s).
GNPZK had been the first victim of this new killer. Something that had surprised most, as he was a well loved person. Emurlahn hadn't known him well, but a murder in Murderville always affected everyone.
Emurlahn still hadn't found a real place to stay, but the small room he was using was only a short walk from the town square. It was quite practical, the town square was the middle of Murderville, and everything happened there. It was also where people gathered when they finally found out who to execute, and the noise was unmistakable.
Emurlahn had heard it as soon as people started gathering, and had hurried over to the town square, where people were already handing out pitchforks and torches. They had found a victim. The tension would relive slightly, and people could get back to their daily, well, whatever they did. Until the next murder of course.
What Emurlahn hadn't expected, of course, was the reception of his arrival to the town square. As soon as he had walked around the last corner the sounds had died. Everyone had stopped up in their tracks. The silence was shattering. Emurlahn needed only a moment to understand what was wrong. "Shit." He cursed under his breath the exact moment the first shot was fired. The crowd went mad, charged him like a stampede. Though his mage-shield had stopped the first shot he knew he would have no chance against the entire group.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" The scream came from War Penguin. War fired his shotgun again. Once more the bullets withered to dust as it hit the mage-shield. Emurlahn turned to face him as he made ready to fire once more. A shattering sound, and a jolt of pain at the side of Emurlahn's head warned him that the shield was penetrated, by an empty bottle of Mountain Dew.
Emurlahn was pushed backwards as the first pitchfork pierced his stomach. He turned his face to see the face of Schizzy, the old crazed catman. "That's for spraying water in my face!" He yelled loudly, spit frothing from his mouth as he pulled the pitchfork out and ramming it through Emurlahn once more.
Then the rest of the town reached him. War fired his shotgun once more, this time almost the entire round went through Emurlahn's leg, forcing him down on his knees. Another bottle was shattered across his face, a splinter of glass penetrating his eye, flinging blood everywhere. Emurlahn could feel his mouth fill with blood. Another pitchfork was jammed through him, this one from the side. And another, pinning his arm to his body.
Emurlahn noticed the absence of his hat. He looked around for it, only to see the butt of a huge wooden torch intercepting his face. He was thrown to the ground. Blood was pouring down his face and arm. His jacket was soaked with his own blood. He couched spiting out blood in the process. The battering continued mindlessly. Breaking his ribs, a pitchfork puncturing his lunge. Someone fired another shotgun-shell, reducing his leg to pulp.
Emurlahn could hardly see anything. One of his eyes was ran through with a piece of green glass, the other was covered in the blood pouring from the various wounds in his face, and his glasses laid crushed beside his face. Someone rammed an object through the top of his chest, forcing blood out of his mouth with a gurgling sound. What remained of his vision tunnelled in. Time seamed to slow down, making him feel each individual hit. Finally the tunnel vanished, and it all turned black.
The crowd continued long after Emurlahn lost his consciousness, slowly breaking and crushing every single bit of his body. When they stopped all that remained was a meaty clump half covered in some tattered clothes. The ground was covered in pulp and blood. Where the head had been was only some red curly hair and a spot of grey matter. A pair of shattered glasses laid a foot away, and a silver ring was still on what had used to be a hand, the other ring had somehow been launched across the town square. The entire mess was covering almost 10 square meter, all pulp, blood and guts.
The townspeople was covered in it too, whether it was fur, feathers or cloth, it was completely soaked and covered, and would probably carry a stain for a long time after. People slowly scattered, leaving the gruesome scene. If any of them would have card to look up they would have seen a lone, worn tophat, slowly being carried away by the wind.
