Doran stood among the townspeople in the town square, where hundreds had gathered. It was noisy, with men in short skirts and women in long dresses, their hair covered with cloth, whispering among themselves.
They were frightened and uneasy, for twelve wooden frames stood in the square, with twelve people hanging from them. The bodies swayed in the wind, their tongues protruding far from their twisted faces, while foul-smelling fluids dripped from inside their trousers.
The sight terrified the sheltered townspeople.
They trembled and shuddered. Besides the twelve dead men, others were bound to wooden frames, their trousers and skirts stripped away to expose genitals that had shriveled in fear.
A player holding a scalpel was castrating them one by one, a delighted smile on his face. His hands kept working, slicing off one cock after another, while both those already castrated and those still awaiting their turn sobbed and desperately confessed their wrongs.
As for the remaining captured stragglers, most knelt on the ground with their left wrists resting on a log. A man carrying a large saber was performing a "ritual" on them one by one to "deprive them of the ability to steal and rob."
Only two people stood to one side, their faces full of bewilderment and fear. One was old and the other young, with very similar faces and an honest, simple appearance. Judging by their ages and looks, they were probably father and son.
They seemed quite timid. Although they had followed the stragglers' leader to Hilla Town, they had done little more than shout and bluster. Their weapons had no blood on them, they still wore their Republican Army uniforms, their pockets were empty, and their lower garments were neat, with their belts fastened tightly. The moment they saw the players, they had