#Two women had to search him upon entering prison under protest

[coochiequeens]

"Another significant source of tension related to finances, as Ferrinho reportedly had never worked or held down a stable job and was living at home dependent on his aging parent’s resources. Ana Gomes of the Public Prosecutor’s Office told the court that the relationship was strained due to the “inertia of the defendant” in finding a job while using his parent’s income for “online shopping.” Another failed male hiding behind the TQ+ label

By Genevieve Gluck. October 6, 2023

A trans-identified male has appeared in court on charges of the brutal murder of his father and the attempted murder of his mother. Tânia Ferrinho, 43, is accused of stabbing his father seventeen times and stabbing his bedridden mother seven times, in a horrific incident that occurred in October of 2022 in Samora Correia, Portugal.

Ferrinho’s case was heard in the Santarém Court, beginning September 13, with closing arguments presented October 4. The court heard how Ferrinho’s elderly parents, Carlos and Maria, had suffered numerous instances of violence at the hands of their son, and had already taken out a court order banning him from approaching them.

Sources of the conflict between Ferrinho and his parents were said to have centered around his sex change procedures, which they disapproved of. Ferrinho began to identify as transgender in 2020, when he legally changed his name to Tânia.

Another significant source of tension related to finances, as Ferrinho reportedly had never worked or held down a stable job and was living at home dependent on his aging parent’s resources. Ana Gomes of the Public Prosecutor’s Office told the court that the relationship was strained due to the “inertia of the defendant” in finding a job while using his parent’s income for “online shopping.”

According to the Public Prosecutor’s Office Indictment Order, the brutal assault occurred after Ferrinho was named in a new domestic violence case by his parents, who were attempting to have him expelled from their apartment.

On September 26, 2022, just weeks before the crime took place, Ferrinho posted a video to his Facebook account wherein he claimed to be a victim of stalking, and made a vague comment seeming to suggest that his parents could “accuse me of prostitution as a way of keeping the house.”

On the day of the crime, October 10, Ferrinho is said to have engaged in an argument with his parents related to money. He demanded an allowance, which his parents refused to provide. Shortly after, the National Republican Guard (GNR) visited the family’s home to inform Ferrinho that another case was being filed against him for abuse at the Benavente Court. Ferrinho was already on probation for a 2021 double conviction of aggravated physical assault against his elderly parents, reported Rede Regional.

Just after law enforcement left the premises, Ferrinho began slashing his 77 year-old father repeatedly with a knife, who fled into the apartment building’s hallway before falling to the ground. He succumbed to his injuries in December while being treated at the Vila Franca de Xira Hospital.

After stabbing his father seventeen times, Ferrinho then turned on his mother, who was bedridden and in poor health, and began assaulting her with the knife. A neighbor who had heard shouting from their apartment intervened and prevented Ferrinho from murdering his mother. The neighbor later stated that Ferrinho had initially attempted to frame his father for the assault on his mother. While she was not fatally wounded by the stabbing, she would later die of illness shortly after her husband.

In the final deliberations of the case, the Public Prosecutor’s Office attempted to rationalize the murder as being the result of “the inner conflict” presented by Ferrinho’s transgender identity. Gomes stated that there is “sensitivity to understanding the inner conflict of someone who, from a young age, does not identify with the gender they were born with.”

However, Gomes further added that “[he] did not show any remorse” for the crime, and asked for a sentence which considered the gravity of the offense.

Lawyer Maria João Alves, defending, argued that the killing occurred following a series of traumatic events, including his “gender change” and the death of his older brother, which allegedly caused him to suffer from “psychotic outbursts and sometimes interruptions of consciousness.” Alves claimed that Ferrinho was in a psychotic state when he stabbed his parents.

“I have the greatest doubts that Tânia had committed this act consciously and I am certain that [he] was never helped,” Alves said. Ferrinho was “unable to control [his] impulses” at the time of the crime, the lawyer said, and requested that the Court’s sentencing take into account his personal circumstances.

The Court will deliver a sentence on October 18.

Ferrinho’s case first became known to the wider public after media reported that female prison guards had refused to conduct strip searches on him during his detention in a women’s prison. Despite retaining a male sexual organ, Ferrinho demanded to be searched by women guards at the Tires Prison Establishment.

The women employed at the prison refused, because “the procedure involved biologically seeing a person of a different sex and seeing a penis,” said the president of the Association of Heads of the Guard Corps Prison, Hermínio Barradas.

After an hour, two female guards ultimately conducted the search “under protest.”

Portugal passed a law allowing sex self-identification in 2018, but Ferrinho’s case is said to be the first known instance of a clash between female prison staff and a violent trans-identified male inmate. Reports of the incident note that the guards “fear the arrival of new transgender inmates.”

Ana Aresta, president of ILGA (Intervenção Lesbica, Gay, Bissexual, Trans e Intersexo) told the media at the time that the sex self-identification legislation was correctly implemented by prison staff. “People don’t have to pass through any kind of process of surgical affirmation to be considered men or women,” she said.

However, Barradas disagreed, and stated that the law does not require female prison guards to strip search male inmates who have not undergone genital surgery. Yet according to reports, an internal document circulated within Portugal’s prison system states that a transgender inmate must be searched “by a member of the surveillance and security service of the same gender with which the transgender person identifies” even if they retain their sexual organ.

Can any Portuguese readers tell me when the older brother died? I curious if it happened around the same time as he came out as trans

[96thdayofrage]

The Original Karens: From Emmett Till’s Accuser To The White Woman Who Sparked The Tulsa Massacre

Written by Clay Cane

In this current climate of protests and demands for justice, the entitled and indignant white women known as “Karens” appear to be falling apart.

From Amy Cooper, whose over dramatic 911 call on a birdwatching Black man blew up in her face, to Lisa Alexander, who was shocked to discover that no one needs her permission to write “Black Lives Matter” in chalk on their own property, Karens are in a rage. Not even a camera in their face will stop their toxic entitlement, which has led to a string of viral sensations.

When thinking of the country’s experiences with white supremacist violence, the discussions are typically centered around men. However, white women have historically been at the helm of this terror, using their tears and imaginary delicateness as ammunition for victim hood and ultimately destroying lives or at its worst, taking one.

Once upon a time, even the slightest hint that white womanhood may be in danger resulted in the lynching of Black children or a thriving town full of Black families being burned to the ground.

Here are some of the most horrific stories of Karens going wild before the term came into existence.

Sarah Page

There has been a lot of talk around Tulsa, Oklahoma due to this month's 99th anniversary of the tragic race massacre that took place there in 1921. Many people may not know the race massacre began with a 17-year-old named Sarah Page.

Page was an elevator operator in what was called the Drexel Building in downtown Tulsa. On May 30, 1921, reportedly, Dick Rowland, a 19-year-old Black shoe shiner, was getting on the elevator to use a segregated bathroom on a higher floor. He allegedly tripped when entering the elevator, accidentally grabbed Page's arm and she reacted by screaming. Rowland fled but the police were called. The next day, Rowland was arrested and word spread that a Black man assaulted a white woman.

According to the 2001 Tulsa Race Riot Commission Report via The Washington Post, Rowland was accused of assaulting Page “on a public elevator in broad daylight."

Within 18 hours, the Greenwood district of Tulsa, also known as Black Wall Street, was annihilated. In 1921, The New York Times described the massacre as “one of the most disastrous race wars ever visited upon an American city.”

No one knows what happened to Sarah Page or Dick Rowland after the massacre.

Fannie Taylor

On January 1, 1923, 22-year-old Fannie Taylor began screaming outside of her home. A neighbor rushed to the distressed white woman only to find her beaten and bruised, yelling for her baby. Miss Fannie claimed a Black man broke into her home and attacked her. The neighbor searched her house to find the baby safe and no signs of a break in.

Rumors quickly spread that Taylor was raped and robbed by a Black man. Taylor’s husband, James Taylor, gathered a group of men to find the imaginary criminal, even calling on the Klu Klux Klan for assistance.

A pack of 400 terrorists headed to the neighboring area, an affluent Black town in Rosewood, Florida, accusing any Black man they could of the crime. Fannie’s fraudulent tears was the excuse these envious hellions needed to purge out their rage.

Their first victim was Sam Carter, a local blacksmith, who was tortured and hung. They eventually began looking for a man named Jesse Hunter, who they claimed was an escaped convict.

The Black residents of Rosewood fought back but there were many casualties, including Sarah Carrier, a woman who did Fannie Taylor’s laundry. She was shot in the head, according to History.com. Her son Sylvester Carrier was also fatally shot.

The race massacre lasted for a week, burning Rosewood to the ground and killing countless Black people.

As for Fannie Taylor, she reportedly had an affair with a white man who beat her, which is why she had been found abused that night. She thought it was better to accuse a Black man of assault then to take accountability for her own actions.

The 1997 film Rosewood, directed by the late John Singleton, depicted the massacre.

See the clip below of actress Catherine Kellner as Fannie Taylor.

Eleanor Strubing

In December of 1940, Eleanor Strubing, a wealthy white woman in Connecticut accused her 31-year-old Black chauffeur, Joseph Spell, of raping her four times and throwing her into a river. Spell was arrested within hours and immediately sent to jail to wait for trial.

The New York Times famously ran a story with the headline, "Mrs. J.K. Strubing Is Kidnapped And Hurled Off Bridge by Butler; WOMAN KIDNAPPED; HURLED OFF BRIDGE." The article claimed he “confessed after 16 hours" of questioning.

Spell was facing 30 years in prison.

Thankfully, the NAACP Legal Defense Fund and its head lawyer, Thurgood Marshall, represented Spell. Marshall and his co-counsel proved evidence that Strubing lied. She, in fact, had consensual sex with Spell and jumped in the river because she was terrified that she might become pregnant from their affair. In her mind, the only option was to accuse Spell of rape in order to justify a possible pregnancy.

An all-white jury found Joseph Spell not guilty, which was shocking for the time. Nonetheless, if this accusation would have been made in the South, Joseph Spell certainly would have died by public lynching.

Wil Haygood, the author of Showdown: Thurgood Marshall and the Supreme Court Nomination That Changed America, wrote about the ruling, "It was a miracle. But Thurgood Marshall trafficked in miracles.”

Strubing, whose father was an investment banker and the former governor of the Philadelphia Stock Exchange, suffered no punishment for lying under oath. Her husband, John K. Strubing, died in 1961 and she remarried to John W. Barclay. Stribing died at 92 years old in 2000.

Joseph Spell moved to East Orange, New Jersey after the trial. It’s not clear when he passed away.

The 2017 movie Thurgood was based on the Joseph Spell trial. See the clip below of Kate Hudson as Eleanor Strubing.

Carolyn Bryant

In August of 1955, 21-year-old Carolyn Bryant accused 14-year-old Emmett Till of touching her and whistling at her in a store (he reportedly had a lisp and was unable to whistle.) Till, who was visiting from Chicago, was in Mississippi for the summer spending time with family. Within hours, he was kidnapped from his uncle’s home. The child was tortured, mutilated and thrown into the Tallahatchie River. His naked body was weighed down with a fan blade.

Carolyn’s husband, Roy Bryant and her brother-in-law J.W. Milam, the terrorists who lynched Till, were found not guilty by an all-white jury.

In the 2017 book The Blood of Emmett Till by Timothy Tyson, Carolyn Bryant admitted to lying and claimed that she actually didn’t remember what happened that day in the store.

She is still alive today, living in Mississippi at 86 years old. Emmett Till would have been 79 years old on July 25 if it wasn’t for Carolyn Bryant.

The 65th anniversary of his death is August 28.

Victoria Price and Ruby Bates

Before The Central Park Five in 1989, which would become the Exonerated Five in 2002, there was the Scottsboro Boys in 1932.

On Mach 25, 1931, a group of Black and white teenagers were riding freight trains looking for work, which was common during the Great Depression. The white teens wanted the Black teens off the train and a fight broke out. The white teens attempted to forcibly throw the Black teens from the train. In defending themselves, the Black teenagers instead kicked the white teens off the locomotive.

The angry white teens went to a local sheriff who demanded the train be stopped.

Nine Black teens were removed, ages 13 to 19. However, two white women, Victoria Price and Ruby Bates, were also on the train and spent their time wrongfully accusing several of the Black boys of rape.

Similar to the Exonerated Five, that one accusation stole the innocence of nine Black children.

The teens were jailed in Scottsboro, Alabama: Haywood Patterson, 18; Clarence Norris, 19: Charlie Weems, 19; brothers Andy Wright, 19 and Leroy Wright, 13; Olin Montgomery, who was nearly blind, 17; Ozie Powell, 16; Eugene Williams, 13, and Willie Roberson, 16, who could barely walk due to severe syphilis.

The all-white and all-male jury trial was over in a matter of days and all of them — except 13-year-old Leroy Wright — were found guilty of rape and given the death penalty. There was no evidence of course since Bates couldn’t identify the men she claimed raped her.

The NAACP and the International Labor Defense (ILD), the legal wing of the American Communist Party, joined the case. By November 1932, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that the Scottsboro defendants had been denied the right to counsel. Shortly after, Ruby Bates admitted she lied.

Nonetheless, the back and forth with the courts continued for years.

By 1936, Haywood Patterson was convicted of rape and sentenced to 75 years. In 1948, he escaped from prison and made it to Michigan. The governor refused to extradite him to Alabama. By 1951, Patterson was convicted of manslaughter after a barroom brawl. In 1952, he died of cancer. He was 39 years old.

In July of 1937, Clarence Norris was eventually convicted of rape and sentenced to life in prison. He was paroled in 1946 and moved north, where he married and had children. His autobiography, The Last of the Scottsboro Boys was released in 1979. He passed away in 1989 at 76 years old.

In July of 1937, Andrew Wright was convicted of rape and sentenced to 99 years. He was released in 1950 at 38 years old. Charlie Weems was also convicted of rape and paroled in 1943. He spent the rest of his life in Atlanta. It’s not clear when or if Wright and Weems have passed away.

Ozie Powell’s rape charges were dropped but he pled guilty to assaulting a deputy, which happened while in custody. He was released from prison in 1946. After spending four years on death row as adults, all charges against Willie Roberson, Olen Montgomery, Eugene Williams, and Leroy Wright were dropped.

It is not known how or when Willie Roberson, Olen Montgomery, Eugene Williams, or Ozie Powell died.

After being released, Leroy Wright, the youngest, went on a national lecture tour and then joined the Army. In 1959, according to PBS, Wright accused his wife of having an affair, fatally shot her and then committed suicide. He was 41 years old.

As for Victoria Price and Ruby Bates, Price never recanted her testimony and died in 1982 at 77 years old. Bates had the privilege of going on a speaking tour, bizarrely, for the International Labor Defense (ILD), which defended the Scottboro Boys. She claimed to have lied because she was "excited and frightened by the ruling class of Scottsboro." Bates died in 1976.

[the-house-of-the-nine]

In Mind of Misery: Might

[ I wrote this scene to bridge between the gaps of our guild RP story and some loose ends I felt needed to be addressed.  This takes place directly after Reflections: Part 5.  Lazarius has gone to say goodbye to his daughter, but Marseille is off to collect someone for questioning.   I hope everyone enjoys this little solo story.]

“Some loose ends to deal with. . .” 

The final words of the ancient elf guardian as he exited out of the Grand Library where the official meeting had taken place.  More unofficially was the look granted to him by his esteemed Inquisitor. 

Marseille knew that look; it was one of silent action to be taken.  Something he and his master had practiced for countless months.  Their time together since the day he was collected had been near infinite.  Lazarius had taken the much older elf under his wing and groomed him; much like he had been groomed by his former Mistress. 

When Pyravari had discovered the mad elf in Suramar only days after the shielded veil was lifted, he was completely gone.  He had lost all he had, given up on life, had taken to body augmentation through arcane runes and manipulated the arcane energy within his blood.  Marseille was all but ready to kill or be killed when he was finally freed from the prison he’d placed himself in.

But rather than kill him outright, the Harbinger spared him, seeing promise in his talent as a bladesman, and also as a gift to her brother.  Lazarius spent weeks mending the damaged psyche of the Shal’dorei; time that would have been spent better elsewhere as far as he was concerned, but try as he might to resist him it was to no avail.  Lazarius managed to break through, begin mending the damage and in the end; freed the ancient elf from the madness he’d slipped into.

The life debt was something he took very seriously; and despite their connections to the Old Gods at the time, and the horrific things he’d come to learn they had done in the past, Marseille refused to abandon them.  He could see past it; and did, because to him it was far more important to repay the man and his kin who’d saved him from the haunting spirits of his own.

That look though; he knew what it meant.  Lazarius and him shared a very well in tune bond that was less telepathic and more cued upon expression.  But this time, the voice of his Master would creep effortlessly into his mind as he exited the Library with Verzatea on their way to tuck their daughter in, and share a bit of time together before the pack departed.

“The goblin has returned, unannounced, and Koltun has clarified his missing whereabouts.  Something does not sit right; if he is crossing the order, he will pay and I will discover the truth.  See to it he knows I am displeased with such careless action, and ensure he is held in our finest interrogation room. I will deal with him when we return...”

Krazzlowe the Goblin Slave Baron had just recently returned from Silithus mysteriously and without any type of announcement.  This was not only unorthodox but also unnerving.  Lazarius felt only the slightest shiver across his cold flesh when the talisman he’d given the creature was activated.  He knew he’d returned.

With Koltun needing to walk back, and the goblin being able to instantly transfer himself here; it was all very curious.  Lazarius had given strict orders to everyone not to use their Talismans during this time.  NZoth and the agents that served it could sense the artifacts; giving off any type of magical signature was like inviting them into the Bastille. The main reason why their current quest to rid him of the unsightly eye was meant to be completely stealthed and without any use of power.  And another reason why Lazarius was not pleased.  Perhaps they’d gotten lucky this time, but he would not risk a second.

Just weeks prior. . . .

Krazzlowe sat on a large yacht just off the coast of Tanaris; sun bathing in the warmth of the desert sky, a dry air running over his now liberally greased sap green skin.  Two other goblin females were dotting over the portly Baron as he sipped from a small umbrella drink and enjoyed the leisure's of his relaxation.

The bikini clad women were rubbing his shoulders and feet; as disgustingly awful as they were, but they were in no place to protest; slaves did as they were told, especially with explosives strapped to their necks.  Yes, goblins took extreme precautions.

“Ill tell ya Rodney, this is the life. . .”  Krazzlowe said slurping up his fruity cocktail through a straw inserted in a coconut.

“Ya really got a sweet set up here, a fella could get used tah dis.”

Rodney was the owner of this sea fairing mansion, another “Baron” no doubt who was self proclaimed just like Krazzlowe.  The two of them were more or less ‘friends’ but in the long run neither really trusted the other.

“Well don’t. . .” Rodney replied as he lowered his own sunglasses and peered across the deck to the other goblin lounging in his chair.

“You promised two shipments a month, you’re late Morty.  Been late for the last few months, what happened to our deal?”

The use of his actual first name caused the snide, and robust baron to slowly roll himself in the direction of his accuser.  His long fat nose turning upward in disgust at the claims that he had not lived up to his part of the agreement.

“Look, I told ya, since the end of the War everything has gone to shit.  You gonna go set somethin’ on fire? How about the Exodar, blame the fuckin’ Horde for that, get us back into a war. You start the son-of-a-bitch back up and I’ll have you three shipments a week.” 

Krazzlowe all but kicked the girl rubbing his feet away as he struggled to sit upright; it wasn't easy being as round as he was not to mention greasy from the tanning oil.

Rodney peered toward him in disgust; he knew he was right but still, he wouldn't admit it.

“And another thing.  Where do you get off?”

Krazzlowe barked.

“You swore up and down you could move the Azerite faster than I could get it.  Well guess what Mac, I checked ya hull, and the ledger. . .you’re sittin’ on enough to last a whole year.  The Horde aint buyin’ and the Alliance aint dealin.  So you tell me, Asshole. . .who dah fuck’s gonna buy dis shit now?  I aint got my cut yet, so I would say we’re dead-nuts-even. Wouldn’t you Rodney”

Both goblins sat there peering at one another on the deck of the yacht.  It was silent, both of the slaver girls had pulled themselves back against the railing now, waiting to see what would happen.  Their glowing azure eyes fixated on their Master as he was fixated on Krazzlowe.

Rodney turned first and scoffed at his partner, the smaller and much more attractive; if you could call either of them that, of the goblins backing down.

“Dats what I thought. . .”  Krazzlowe continued and slowly lowered himself back into his chair.

“Get me anotha one of these fruity mixers, toots, and you. . .how about a bit more on the arches, dem bunions aint gonna rub demselves!”

Rodney was sickened by the vagrant use of his two favorite women, but then again he was clearly out maneuvered by his partner.  Krazzlowe was no dummy, and certainly not without his own set of skills that caused him to be formidable opponent.

“Yep. . .dis is dah life, doesn’t get much bett--” 

The sound of a large bug swooping forward caused the goblin to cut off from his speaking and flip his shades.  Krazzlowe peered around, it was as if a small bird had just whizzed right past them. 

He noticed now that the sun had almost entirely been shaded, like a massive cloud had passed in front of it, but it was a cloudless day.  It looked like a large swarm of. . .

“What dah fu--”

A large flying Aqir slapped right against the fat little goblins chest; stuck to his tanning oil and grease.  He screamed, the Silithid screamed, both of the slaver girls screamed and Rodney shot up.

“For the love of all that is combustible its a fuc--” 

Rodney was then scooped up by a much larger, and much more terrifying Silithid that swooped down and plucked him off of his lounge chair like a raptor snatching up a rabbit from the sky. 

Both girls now screamed even more as their master was taken away, and Krazzlowe tumbled out onto the deck with the creature now successfully swiped from his greasy body.

“RODNEY!”  Krazzlowe shouted as he peered up to see the Silithid flying over the open ocean.  It was about fifty feet in the air and climbing upward.

In the sky above them there was a massive swarm that had blacked out the sun.  The sound of their humming now reached the ears of the baron as he peered up at Rodney being taken. “You still owe me money!”

And then, he was dropped.  Like a stone heading toward the ocean.  Whether or not he managed to survive the fall was uncertain.  But after the slap against the surface of the water vibrated across his ear drums, the goblin would scoff and finalize his decision.

“Welp. . .looks like we’re even.”  He chuckled, grabbing his partners sunglasses that had fallen on the deck before he had been taken and replacing his own.

He whistled casually as he headed below deck in pursuit of the women, but not before noticing that in the distance, Silithus was most likely overrun.  Oh well, looks like the deal is done.  Better head on back and collect what he could and just sit on this little goldmine until a more opportune moment came about.

Back in the Bastille. . .

A frantic and fevered search began when the Goblin tore through the veil of space and time and entered through a broom closet on one of the lower floors.  Not where he had expected to land, but then again he was not exactly one of the most welcome guests even today.  He tumbled out onto the saronite floor and immediately hopped up onto his feet with a panicked look in his eyes.

It was by convenience that Lazarius; out of trust, would have given the goblin a talisman to allow him to come back when needed.  Especially on times when he was summoned by the High Inquisitor for reports about the mining operation in SIlithus; and also whenever Lazarius requested.

“Where is it. . .where is it, dammit I hate this fuckin’ place.”  the goblin snarled as he began opening doors and checking for whatever he could in the hall that was presented to him.

He was looking for the area that he had stashed all of his paperwork and belongings before heading off to Silithus to begin the Azerite operation.  This was about the time when the sword was plunged into the planet and both factions began scrambling to the site.  Krazzlowe had ensured nothing of his own would be lost while he was away and stashed everything he needed here in a room given to him by the dark lord.  But where was the room.

As he turned the corner, the short; though taller than most, goblin was face to face with a most unpleasant welcoming party.  The blunt side of Marseille’s hatchet forcefully kissed his orbital bone over his left eye and the cheek that was directly below that.  It shattered the cartridge of his nose causing a burst of crimson to spray outward and begin flowing steadily down his upper lip and chin.  The goblin was immediately floored. 

He was almost unconscious but damned if he would be knocked out.  Goblins had extremely thick skulls, and they were often known to take a good beating.  But this was cruel and unusual punishment, the use of the weapon could have easily killed him had the elf flipped it around and used the sharpened end.

“Your Inquisitor has decreed that you are hereby relieved of your services as coordinator of the Silithus operation, Baron Krazzlowe.”  the ancient elf proclaimed as he grabbed hold of the blood soaked creature by its ankle and slowly began arranging him for transport. “Henceforth, you will be given a new assignment and stationed much closer to home for observation. . .”

Krazzlowe was nearly in another plain of existence at this point, and his smashed face was making it hard for him to talk at the moment.  He was trying to fight off being taken but he was far too injured to even attempt it.  He just barely understood what this meant, his clouded mind absorbing the hidden meaning of the shades words.  Lazarius knew.

The goblin began to stir and groan as he was more or less unaware what had happened, but the shock was starting to wear down.  He’d just been busted wide open.  The strike had caused a large deal of blood to splatter across the old elf and he would remark as he began to collect his prize.

Marseille wiped his left hand across his right shoulder and down his arm, it had stained his beautiful pastel grey blue skin.  The streaks of crimson would drip across his shoulder, down his elbow and wrist, but also managed to stain his throat and ribcage.  Luckily he did not wear a shirt most times.

���I’ll need to wash this off before I leave. . . most generous of you Baron.”  he stated crassly while the goblins feet were joined to make it much easier to pull him.

Marseille dragged him along the cold, saronite floor.  Down stairwells and through doorways that would have caused even more trauma for the little goblin.  It was not long after the first or second bump that the goblin had blacked out completely due to the head injury.

He only awoke some time later when the door of his cell was being slammed shut.  He would peer around while coming to his senses, and slowly folded over and rolled off onto the floor. “*No!*” He managed to scream out just barely

Marseille was already walking away, his attention elsewhere.  He had planned to stop and visit with Siida-Ray before departing with the rest of them for the Ghostlands.  The goblin was where he needed to be; and at this point he did not care what was being said.  Krazzlowe was considered a prisoner now. And as the footsteps of the elf echoed in the hall, the goblin plead for his case.

“Ya dont understand, its gone! Its all gone! Somebody get me outta here! I didn’t do nothin’.  I just want whats mine! Hello! Somebody!”

The echoed screams of the little battered goblin danced down the hallway like a brilliant acrobat performing for their audience.  But unlike such a marvelous affair, not a single ear would be pulled in the direction of the pleading goblin.  And he would remain down there until such a time as Lazarius saw fit to interrogate him.

“You are makin’ a mistake! Its all gone! The site, the people. . .It wasnt my fault! Wait! Com. . .Come on!”

But his words fell on deaf ears, not a soul cared, and not a single soul would come to his rescue.  But as he sat there in the darkness, the silence began to tease his mind, a strange humming sound came from the floors above, a faint heart beat, a curious tone.  The goblin curled up against the back corner of his cage and whimpered, truly his greed had now cost him his life.  He had no hope of savior in this place.

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