Disputed Land Chronicles: The Split

This post is part of the series Disputed Land Chronicles

Other posts in this series:

  1. Disputed Land Chronicles: Bartertown
  2. Disputed Land Chronicles: The Underworld
  3. Disputed Land Chronicles: Chaos

The external screams of agony matched the internal screams of ecstasy as the serrated blade slid across his torso filleting the top layer of skin off his side. A slice of skin plopped to the floor with a moist thud. The Bloody Carver moved to his other side and went about his gruesome business.

“You’s comfortable?” asked Cane stooping over the scene from his perch. “Without warps jewsie, da pains is much more yes?”

The only response was a whimpering attempt at a scream as he went in and out of consciousness.

You failure, came the internal voice. Eight years, you’ve failed. 

A deluge of cold water brought him quickly to consciousness, and washed away some of the blood and gore from his torso, revealing raw red exposed muscle. The Blood Carver had stepped aside and was admiring the fillets he had extracted.

Heatsink pulled a lever and the table rotated about 80 degrees so that he was vertical albeit still strapped down and immobile.

Cane stepped down and walked around to stand in front of him. Reaching up he poked the exposed flesh and pressed hard, eliciting a scream of agony.

“Lose,” Cane said “that’s all yous had to do.”

He spat. Cane dug in deeper, blood running down his arm.

“You’s will listen,” Cane said again. “but perz you’s need somes motivazahs.”

Cane withdrew his hand and snapped his fingers. There was a shuffle outside and two rats came into the room dragging something. They turned and left, leaving a fleshy lump at his feet. Cane nodded at Heatsink and smirked.

Heatsink stepped forward, the mechanism already pumping vigorously, he jabbed the huge needle into his side, injecting a huge amount of green fluid at the same time. He withdrew the needle, leaving a trail of blood and green ooze to trickle down his side. Heatsink, done with is assigned task exited the room.

Finally came the voice.

His vision become clearer, his pain subsided to a dull ache and he felt his strength returning. “Go away he said,” more to the voice than anything else.

Cane laughed, “you will win this week, or there is more of….all of this, to come” he pointed to his raw sides and then ended with a grubby finger pointing down at the mass. He turned to exit and gave the mass a kick as he went.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

He looked down at the fleshy pile at his feet.

You fool came the voice. You’re so weak. Pathetic. Useless. 

“No!!!” he yelled as it came into focus.

Ha! Finally got what you deserve…

“Go awa,” he started

Away? Hardly, YOU are the one who is going away. You failed in New Orcland, you are failing here. This is your fault.


Yes! YOU are responsible for this. 


You what? You know it’s true. You did this, and you will deal with it…but not here. It’s my turn.

“I…no…” he tried to say as his facial features changed. The look of agony changed to one of pleasure, the pain in his eyes replaced with that of excitement.

“About time!” he exclaimed. The voice was audible this time, it was his voice but it was the internal voice that was speaking now. He was not a part of the consciousness…

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Lying at his feet was the lump of green flesh and blood. He looked at it smiling gleefully. Cane’s kick had exposed some letters on the cloth. “Iggy Max” they jersey read. He laughed at the desecrated corpse of the little goblin.

“Failures,” he said “all of you.”


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