Post by Liam O'Donnell on Jun 12, 2012 20:48:33 GMT -8
December 17th, 2011
09:35 p.m.
There was a sickening smell of rust, sweat, dirt, piss....filth. It took a couple of blinks before his eyes reset to normal, but he was awake. At least, he thought he was awake. He coughed up something, phlegm, spit, something that maybe tasted metallic in his mouth. Blood. It was then Liam realized that he was in intense pain, cuts on his face, bruises on his forearms from what he could tell, and perhaps a twisted ankle? He didn't dare look down too much, as he could hardly move his neck without straining. It felt like someone had glued his vertebrae together and it needed separating. Bad.
He looked around, finding himself in a room, void of anything but the chair he sat in, a few newspaper clippings fixed to the wall and a table with miscellaneous metal tools dotted with blood. It was a cell. It was dark, disgusting, and had him confined to a stone chair, bound at his hands and legs by leather straps. If this was Azkaban, he was at least thankful for the fact that he was sitting down. As far as he'd heard, some prisoners went days standing upright or chained to the ceiling with their toes barely touching the floor. However, Liam was very far from comfortable. Anybody who had balls enough to tie him up like this was either very brave or very much a coward, and he was very curious to see who his captor was, if he'd see them at all. Given the condition of his body, Liam was thinking he had seen him multiple times.
Shaking his head from side to side, the bartender tried to jog his memory. Why he was here in the first place, or perhaps who was holding him here and why he was being tortured. Sure, he had held in his share of information, whereabouts of Tutaminis Manor, the hiding place of his father-in-law, former Minister Fierro Darque, and had lost touch with his wife, Kara.
His eyes widened. Kara.
The last thing he remembered was a fight. Kara yelling, something about her father being the key, the fact that she was hiding being revealed, and that he, her own husband, was standing in her way. This hurt him, struck him deep when he recalled her words. Then the world spun, out of control, out of memory. What the hell happened?
He looked up on the wall, to see that the newspaper clippings were obituaries. His eyes scanned through them quickly, names he remembered, names that haunted him still. Stana Chastaine..., The barmaid from his place, the Abby. She was brutally murdered, the scene unforgettable. She was so young, like a sister. He failed to protect her. Jaleth Lenor, Professor of Charms at Hogwarts school..., Jaleth was the teacher, a few years older than his wife, but was her best friends brother. An admirer, a pest, and he had mixed feelings of his passing, though death was still not an easy thing to deal with.
Then his stomach turned at the sight of the third obit, a name he didn't think to see on such parchment. Liam O'Donnell, owner of the Abby, was slaughtered in his valley home this morning...
I'm...dead? He could find no words to fit this feeling. Confusion, sickness, dizziness was filling him once again. Another blackout spell? ... Liam's heart began to race.
09:35 p.m.
There was a sickening smell of rust, sweat, dirt, piss....filth. It took a couple of blinks before his eyes reset to normal, but he was awake. At least, he thought he was awake. He coughed up something, phlegm, spit, something that maybe tasted metallic in his mouth. Blood. It was then Liam realized that he was in intense pain, cuts on his face, bruises on his forearms from what he could tell, and perhaps a twisted ankle? He didn't dare look down too much, as he could hardly move his neck without straining. It felt like someone had glued his vertebrae together and it needed separating. Bad.
He looked around, finding himself in a room, void of anything but the chair he sat in, a few newspaper clippings fixed to the wall and a table with miscellaneous metal tools dotted with blood. It was a cell. It was dark, disgusting, and had him confined to a stone chair, bound at his hands and legs by leather straps. If this was Azkaban, he was at least thankful for the fact that he was sitting down. As far as he'd heard, some prisoners went days standing upright or chained to the ceiling with their toes barely touching the floor. However, Liam was very far from comfortable. Anybody who had balls enough to tie him up like this was either very brave or very much a coward, and he was very curious to see who his captor was, if he'd see them at all. Given the condition of his body, Liam was thinking he had seen him multiple times.
Shaking his head from side to side, the bartender tried to jog his memory. Why he was here in the first place, or perhaps who was holding him here and why he was being tortured. Sure, he had held in his share of information, whereabouts of Tutaminis Manor, the hiding place of his father-in-law, former Minister Fierro Darque, and had lost touch with his wife, Kara.
His eyes widened. Kara.
The last thing he remembered was a fight. Kara yelling, something about her father being the key, the fact that she was hiding being revealed, and that he, her own husband, was standing in her way. This hurt him, struck him deep when he recalled her words. Then the world spun, out of control, out of memory. What the hell happened?
He looked up on the wall, to see that the newspaper clippings were obituaries. His eyes scanned through them quickly, names he remembered, names that haunted him still. Stana Chastaine..., The barmaid from his place, the Abby. She was brutally murdered, the scene unforgettable. She was so young, like a sister. He failed to protect her. Jaleth Lenor, Professor of Charms at Hogwarts school..., Jaleth was the teacher, a few years older than his wife, but was her best friends brother. An admirer, a pest, and he had mixed feelings of his passing, though death was still not an easy thing to deal with.
Then his stomach turned at the sight of the third obit, a name he didn't think to see on such parchment. Liam O'Donnell, owner of the Abby, was slaughtered in his valley home this morning...
I'm...dead? He could find no words to fit this feeling. Confusion, sickness, dizziness was filling him once again. Another blackout spell? ... Liam's heart began to race.