Phillip Place
Twisted rogues member since 3/14/13
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My life started in March of 1804, my father, a British gentleman named Jonothan Place and his mother, an Irish woman named Maggie O’Leary. My life started out rough, apparently I was born on a boat but what I remember is growing up in a place I didn’t like. I was treated nicely by my parents but as for anyone else, I was treated like a prisoner. I was beat for breaking rules. I was beat for anything. The guards were just sadistic men, looking for nothing more than to get a good hit in any chance they got.
In 1821 my parents finally had had enough of this. I had just turned 17 and they knew I wouldn’t make it much longer here. They quickly made plans, and late one night we made a run for it, slipping out of the house and running as fast as we can for the tree line. It wasn’t far but once we started running my mom fell, and that alerted the guards. They chased us but alas we were caught. My parents were taken in front of the magistrate and my father was sentenced to 300 lashings. My mother and I were sentenced to watch him being punished. If he survived we’d be free to leave this wretched place, if not we would never leave. The day came for father’s sentencing and as all of them were done it was outside in front of all. It was a way of reminding them all as to what awaited them if they broke the rules. The magistrate, guards, prisoners, the Doctor and then Father Harold, the clergyman were all lined up around a large tree when it was announced to let the flogging begin. Father Harold, was ordered to put his hand against the tree by my fathers, and two men one right handed and the other left handed, stood on each side of my father; their threshers started to flail with more regularity, unmoved by pity, and rather enjoying their horrid employment than otherwise. The very first blows made the blood spout out from his shoulders; and I felt so disgusted and horrified, that I turned my face away from the cruel sight. My head was turned back towards my father’s body by Samuel Marsden, the colonies magistrate which he was also known as the “Flogging Parson”. I was told to watch and see what you get for breaking his laws. I had witnessed many horrible scenes living here; but that was the most appalling sight I had ever seen. The day was windy, and I was at least fifteen yards away but the blood, skin, and flesh blew in my face as the executioners shook it off from their thrashers. Father received three hundred lashes, during which Doctor Mason used to go up to him occasionally to feel his pulse, it being contrary to law to flog a man beyond fifty lashes without having a doctor present. I never shall forget this humane doctor, as he smiled and said, “Go on; this man will tire you both before he fails!” During the time father received the punishment he never uttered a groan; the only words he said were, “Flog me fair; do not strike me on the neck!” Though when it was done and they untied my father he had not made it. They knew he wouldn’t make it through that. He was too weak, in too much pain. Before I knew what was going on they had my mother in their hands, two new men with thrashers were moving to her and I felt my body start to shake. Mothers dress was ripped open in the back as she screamed and begged for them to spare her, she was begging for her life but that did nothing to stop them. Marsden called out, “200 lashes”. I screamed and tried to move to help my mother but I was restrained by two guards. Marsden whispered to me, “I will take all you hold dear.” I tried to once again look away but Marsden held my head, making me watch my mother be beaten. I don’t know how many strikes it took until the pain completely consumed her body. Mother’s body was crushed against the tree and her screams quickly died down. Dr. Masen finally made then stop when he checked for a pulse and found none. Both of their bodies were dumped on the ground under the tree they’d been tied too and left. I was handed a shovel and was pointed to an area about 50 yards away. I was then left to dig a grave and bury my parents. Hours later I drug my father to the grave and as carefully as I could I dropped him in, then I made my way to my mother. My hands were shaking as I lifted her up and drug her to the grave. As my tears fell I rolled her on top of my father and fixed his arms to wrap around her. They were together in life and now together in death. I wanted to kill Marsden, my hands would have easily fit around his neck..but when I tried to get close to him after making my way back to the main house I was tossed back outside. It was then that I tried to make my escape. Enough of this, I was fast, I could beat them all. I slowly slipped behind the main house, then the ‘shacks’ we were made to stay in. I hit the woods running as fast as I could, the tears of anger, hatred and pure anguish were still creeping along my cheeks. This place was hell, maybe it was worse than hell. I didn’t hear them coming until they were on me. Two of Marden’s henchmen grabbed me up and that is when things got interesting. I was tossed around, landing face first on the floor of the forest, their thrashers slicing into my back and I screamed out in pain. Then it all stopped. I felt no more strikes, it had gone deathly quiet around me. Before I could get to my feet I was snatched up, the fear and anxiety hitting me hard right before I heard a snarl. Then more pain, it felt like my body was on fire. I crumpled to the ground and my word went black. When I awoke, my world was completely different. That's when I saw him, Geoff. My sire. He was not anyone I had seen before but this is a prison colony so that was not all that strange. I was not what he thought I’d be when I awoke and got the first scent of human blood. After ravishing part of the colony he took me to a nearby area to ‘teach’ me the rules of being like him, of being a vampire. I listened, I took them in, I did. But the event of the rimes before us led me to not listen. I now knew what I was and how I was to act but...rules are meant to be broken right? I left him and moved across the land free until I could get back to where I needed to be. I went back to the colony and looked for Marsden. He had been dismissed of his duties the year after my parent’s murder, yes I say murder as it was done with intent to harm them. But the men physically responsible for their deaths were still there. I crept onto the ‘compound’ they used and went from shack to shack. I knocked each one out and dragged their bodies to the large barn. They were stripped of their shirts as my father was and hung by their legs from the rafters. I kicked back and waited for each of them to wake. As the first one awoke, dazed I moved to his side. “This may hurt a little,” as the words left my body I pulled a thrasher from the wall of the barn and smirked as his cries for help fell on deaf ears. “Scream!” With that uttered breath I began to let the thrasher slap against his skin. The agony on his face was nothing compared to the screams. Each movement my hand made was swift and accurate. Hitting him starting at his shoulders, I worked my way down his back, each whack just as the first. Though unlike the good doctor used to do I didn’t care if he lost consciousness or if he died. That was my goal after all. Death, a very painful death. I moved to the next guard as he started to stir, slowly making my way through all four of them. Their blood covering my body as I moved from each of them, letting them ‘rest’ in between bodies before I went back to them again the thrasher whacking at their bleeding exposed flesh until many hours had passed and they were no longer alive. I left the bodies as they were and walked out of the barn. I smirked as I walked off into the trees. I had my payback. My parents were avenged. I could move on. After using a stream that was close to a new village I cleaned myself up and made my way into town. I’d stay here a bit, track Marsden down. It didn’t take too long to find Marsden. It was now 1838 and for a few weeks I just watched him. Tracking his every movement, I needed to make him suffer the way he made my parents suffer. Then one day after seeing him kick a child servant at the residence of Reverend Henry Stiles at St Matthew's Church in Windsor, New South Wales, I did just that. You know the moment when fear consumes you? Makes your entire body go rigid and you can’t breath? Well, Marsden got to feel that. He begged me to spare him, he pleaded “I am nor more than an old man.” He was old now but that meant nothing to me. I just let his fear eat at him as I used my new gift of speed to run around him, stopping at times to be eye to eye with him and let out a snarl. I never laid a hand on him as he sat in the rectory. I did him as he did me, he lived out his fear for hours before his miserable heart gave out. I walked away and have no regrets. Now, here I am 175 years later and I have a new game that has been perfected over that length of time. You could say I am like Robin hood. Though I do not steal from the rich, I take from the wicked and wretched people in this world to rid them of their ways. You could say I am a ‘bad’ person but really how can judge me for being their judge, jury and executioner? |