When asked why he committed these horrific acts, McAskill replied with disturbing indifference: "Why not? There is more reason to do, rather than to not.”
In this flippant response, McAskill made it clear he felt entirely justified in his actions, his moral compass a distant relic in a world where his twisted convictions reigned supreme. But he was more than willing to elaborate on his choice of victims, a mix of nobility and those he claimed were
"in the right place at the wrong time.”
"They are as corrupt and superfluous as drug-using guards,"
he spat with disdain. "Manipulating the fates of others while raking in coin to use for their already lavish lifestyles. Look at Gilneas, Westfall, Brightwood, even Lordaeron. We only
just got Gilneas back... Only just.”
When I brought up the killing of a street worker, a woman far removed from nobility, his expression darkened.
"She had found out too much," he said simply.
"And had to die... Coincidentally, she was connected to one of the others on the list.”
The Killer's Legacy
McAskill claims to have no family left, all lost in the fall of Gilneas. He's equally dismissive of friendships, saying, "I don't do friends... One can't in my craft."
But he was quick to mention he has a protégé, someone he believes will carry on his grisly work after his death.
Article continues after the ad.
"One heart claimed for each not shown,"
he said with a hint of pride. "The bodies in Stormwind... that was to prove the guard's incompetence. One of the mauled bodies there was found by a child… Not more than six. I am certain she still remembers it to this day. Must have been a sight.”
It was evident that McAskill took perverse pleasure in recounting these scenes of horror, relishing the distress he had caused both his victims and the public.
"And the Hearts?"
When questioned about his trademark of removing the hearts of his victims, McAskill leaned back, attempting an air of comfort.
"The coins for a calling card... and to secure their soul safe passage into the afterlife… wherever that may be." He gave a sly grin.
"The hearts, however... and the other pieces? Yet to be seen…”
He left his statement hanging, as though inviting me to be as intrigued as he clearly was with his own twisted handiwork.
"A Master Plan?"
As the interview drew on, I pressed him on the apparent contradiction between his boasts of a grand plan and his impending execution. "A rope around your neck doesn't concern you?" I asked, prompting a sneer.
"Who says my death -isn't- a part of the plan?" he countered. "There's a reason I came -here- after all... Finding Sabian when I did was a mere stroke of luck. He wasn't even able to defend himself... So drunk.”
With that, he cast a dark, satisfied glance toward Captain Brineburn and Lieutenant Philomena, lingering on their reactions with disturbing amusement.
"Many killers think highly of their plans, only to have them fail and fade into obscurity," I replied, challenging him to reveal more. "What is your message, McAskill?”
He gave a slight shrug, leaning back in his chair with an air of finality. "See you at the noose, Lester. May you live a long... prosperous life.”
As I left, I had the distinct impression that McAskill took pride in the fear he left behind, and perhaps even in the attention he had garnered from me and the readers of Lion's Roar. But his smirk did not carry the triumph of a man whose legacy will endure—rather, the empty satisfaction of a mind consumed by chaos, whose story ends tonight.
The public is hereby informed that the execution of Tommy McAskill is scheduled to take place tonight, Tuesday the 12th of November, at 20:00 in Hangman's Square / Boralus city gallows, Boralus.
