Flashback Bound and Gagged [Zandelia]

[Astator]

Bound and Gagged 80th of Summer 506AV It wasn't hard really to get the sleeping girl out of her bed and quarters. Just a pair of burly thugs and a little patience, hell he could have nabbed her when she was at the tavern the night before. It wasn't hard to slip a few glasses of wine containing the medicinal tea known as Iskyny Tea. It did affect the taste of the wine, but the target was already well on her way to a drunken state on the verge of passing out as it was anyway. When she finally did come to she would find herself in a room with no windows. It was a fairly good size room too, about twenty by ten. The only door was guarded by two rather burly men in black suits with white dress shirts and red ties. Twins down to their teeth. Right across from her sat a man dressed in a dark gray suit with a red shirt and black tie. He smiled, his shaggy hair drooping in front of his face, his brown eyes twinkling in the candle light sitting beside his propped up arm. “You have awoken I see. Sleep well my pretty?” He smiled and shifted his body position so he was leaning forward and steeple his hands together. Unfortunately for Zandelia she was bound tightly to the chair, her mouth was gagged by a strip of what could only be described as an unwashed sock stuffed into her mouth and then secured in place by a length of rope that was also tied to her hands behind her. Her feet were tied securely to a set of metal rings two feet in front of her, but nearly half the room's width from the man before her.This made it so Zandelia couldn't lash out and even if she tried, it would only result in her being on the floor with a chair smacking her in the head. “You know... Digging around this city would normally get people killed... Seriously.” The man looked in her face, the smile he had plastered to his face wiped away to be replaced with a more serious look.

[Zandelia]

The first sensation to grace her consciousness, as it ebbed back into reality, was that of pain. Her skull throbbed in a repetitive manner, causing her to groan intermittently as she tried to push herself back down into sleep, trying to roll over and pull the blankets over her fragile skull. It was then that she realized such a thing wouldn’t be possible that morning, her hands unable to move and her legs stretched out before her. Her eyelid became unstuck after a few tries, the gooey nature of her bleary sight making her already half-diminished vision almost negligible. Awakening further now she strained to move as she blinked her vision clear. She quickly found both to be supremely difficult, for differing reasons.

Petch she managed to think herself as she growled under the weight of her hangover. Panic began to ripple through her in her weakened state, her mental strength vainly battling against the tide as the full horror of her position became apparent.

A voice reached her ears and her disquiet diminished ever so slightly. If she was alive and in the company of someone then she was, at the very least, not worth killing – a conclusion that held a small measure of hope for her to cling on to. She listened carefully as her vision began to clear and her gaze swept the room. It was a large, if simple, affair. One door in and out, guarded by two thugs whose appearance seemed to nag at the back of her memory but could not quite be placed. They were large bastards she saw, a pair that practically screamed podgy fists and a proclivity towards torture – something which caused a spark of fear inside her once more. The man before her, though, he was threatening in a different way. She had met many with similar mannerisms, they were leaders usually, people with vision and generally without conscience.

I can work with that, or at least I bloody well hope I can she thought as she tried to assess how she was positioned, her muscles were already making their complaints to her as she tried to turn her head to look around at her body – it seemed to be complete enough.

She noted how her hands were bound behind her back, pulling them caused the rope around her mouth to twitch and so she could only assume they were connected. Her feet were pulled before her and so she realised how compromised she was. If she did not act along then she would be upon the floor in an instant and unable to even kneel and beg for mercy – the bastard’s were cruel indeed, if possessed of an irony of sorts. Then taste exploded across her tongue and she gaged, nausea causing her to convulse as she tried to force the wretched rag from her mouth, to rid herself of its fetid cheese-like taste. She succeeded in that at least, the item pushed – most regrettably – beyond the rope with her tongue and teeth. As it hit her lap the chair unbalanced and she crashed into the ground with a series of pained grunts, her cheek impacting upon the stone flooring.

“I’m not your pretty, you son of a bitch, not unless it gets me out of here,” she managed to force out of her mouth between groans, “and forgive me, I didn’t think in the city of chaos my own mining would be taken too seriously” she finished, sucking in air as she tried to right herself enough to lean against the now fallen chair at least.

If she was going to die she reasoned she might as well be sarcastic about the whole thing, perhaps he would be goaded into giving her something she could work with. If that didn’t work then the worst case scenario would be a little bit of a beating, she reasoned, she was obviously wanted alive.

It’s not much to work with, but it’s something at least she thought, finally managing to shuffle towards the chair and slam her shoulder into it to prop herself up a little, turning to look at the man seated at the table, all splayed fingers and quiet demeanour.

“Who did I piss off this time then?” she asked, blood dripping down her scraped cheek and into her lips, filling her mouth slowly with an iron tang.

[Astator]

Decorum He leaned forward, looking at her in her sprawled position on the floor. “That chair must really hurt you back... Why don't we remove it for you and place you in a more..” He paused as he motioned at one of the guards to take the chair. One of the big burly guys came over removed the chair from the room, shutting the door behind him. “Position, shall we?” The room went quiet as they waited. It didn't take very long for the thug to return, in his arms was what appeared to be a hook used to hold up the dead carcasses at the butcher shops to allow them to drain with a length of rope draped over his arm. The man quickly tossed a length rope over the rafter above Zand and grabbed it before she could even attempt to reach it. His hands were pretty deft at tying the rope into a fast slipknot before he tied the hook onto the free hand of the rope. Pulling tightly on the knot at the hook the guard gave a grunt of approval. Without saying a word, or even being gentle for that matter the other guard came over and picked up Zand from the ground, seeing as her legs were still tied in front of her, an attack wasn't too easy to manage from that end... And seeing that if she tried to head butt him she'd risk injuring her arms... It was an ingenious method of tying someone up really. Once Zand was up in the air far enough for the hook to reach her bound wrists they placed the hook there... Sadly enough, this hook had seen many days of use, so it was dull and rounded, so rubbing against the rope wasn't an issue at this point. Once the guards felt she was securely attached to the hook it was obvious to Zand now that she was suspended about two feet into the air by her wrists, which were connected by a length of rope running up her back to the rope around her mouth. Both her legs were tied separately to two rings spaced four feet between the rings and five feet of taunt rope tied at ankles to rings. Once completed the guards stepped away and once more placed themselves at the door. The man before her removed his coat, hanging it across the back of his chair and proceeded to very slowly unbutton his cuffs and roll his sleeves up to his elbows. “There, more comfortable?” He didn't wait for a response before he punched her gut, “And for your information I am not a son of a bitch...” Leaning forward he whispered into her ear, “But they are...” And just to add insult to injury he slowly brought his tongue out and ran it against the outer edge of Zandelia's earlobe. Stopping back he held up his hands, index fingers pointing to the ceiling, thumbs and rest of his fingers curled into his palms. “I forgot my manners. I never introduced my partners and myself. Well, my mother would be ashamed of me.” Sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs he smiled, “My name is Nathaniel Park, my associates over there are Milo and Tanner.” Nathaniel's right hand flicked towards them. “And I want to say your name starts with a Z... Not that it matters...”

[Zandelia]

Zandelia’s position was quickly further compromised, despite the small gain she had managed to weasel for herself by getting the fetid gag out of her mouth. Slightly dazed still from the impact of her head upon the stone floor she was not able to put up much of a fight as one of the thugs took her chair away from her – a fact she hated as she could have used the damned thing as a weapon if given the right opportunity. Still, she was able to inflict a few bruises as they hauled her to her feet, head lashing out, along with knees and feet, at her would be man-handler and hearing some satisfactory grunts of discomfort as some of her attack met their mar – she had been aiming for the abdomen and the kneecaps.

Bastard will hopefully be a bit weaker now and they would have expected some struggling, it would only be natural and therefore accepted hopefully she told herself, keeping her mind focused upon the present and not the future. She would rather search for possibility than driver herself insane with receding hope.

When they were finished she knew she would be unable to do much in the way for fighting back physically for some time to come. Her legs were splayed to each side, creating a good three foot gap between her ankles, an unstable space even if she managed to get back to the floor – though why they needed her legs open she tried not to think on, it was a subject that brought bitter memories to the fore and she wrestled them back. The fall to the floor would not be too bad if she could manage to break free, though she’d still have to contend with three burly men. Those points were also completely ignoring the fact that she was being forced to bear her own body weight with her arms to prevent her shoulders from being damaged – possibly dislocated. After a few moments her muscles began to pick up the strain and she hoped they wouldn’t tire any time soon.

And the shyking petcher licked me, damned freak! she raged as she tried to move her head about to get a real sense of how her body not related to the rest of the room.

She had hoped they would remove the rope from between her teeth themselves so that conversation would be easier, however they left it for her to figure out. Their sadism was beginning to show quite starkly now and she knew she would have to be careful. Insults in response to statements they would possibly accept – but anything beyond that was sure to bring pain, perhaps even that would bring pain. She had heard how they broke people in the Daggerhands and she resolved to use that knowledge to clothe herself in some protection at least.

Maintain your sense of self, they take that away from you Zand and they’ve got everything. Bastards… she forced the thought into the depths of her mind so it would be difficult to cast out in case of torture – a possibility that seemed likely.

“Hanging a woman by a meat hook on their first date? I’d call that the work of a bastard more like, so you’re right there,” she retorted, pushing herself up enough on the hook itself to cause a slackening of the rope so that she could, with some struggling of her jaw and head, spit it out so it fell around her neck – not the most ideal place but better than in her mouth, she could try and talk her way out then.

“Yes…it’s damned comfortable up here, I get a good view and everything. Maybe one day you’ll get to try it to eh?” she felt around the hook as she bought some small portion of time with her words, finding it to be damningly blunt and only of use if she could get free, not in getting her free.

I wonder, though, if I could perhaps try and lever the rope off the hook if it were loosened enough? she mused as she tried to move her wrists against each other slowly, trying to not illicit observation of her attempt.

“Perhaps I will meet your mother and report you, I’m quite good at talking when the occasion calls for it. Though why you would expect me to give you my name when you’ll kill me anyway? It seems a poor trade, my name for being hung up here. And if you know it already you need not have me confirm” she set about trying to keep the man, Nathaniel, in conversation as long as possible – it forestalled the inevitable a little longer, perhaps enough to bring a turn in conditions.

“The real question, though, is why even take me? I must know something without even knowing it if I’m worth all this. We could’ve dealt with this politely, you obviously know my reputation if you know who I am. So…why do this?” she asked, her mind frantically searching through her knowledge of Ravok and its denizens, trying to piece together who would want her ‘dealt’ with by this man and his thugs.

“Oh, and by the way, pleased to meet you. I’ll assume that Nathaniel is an assumed name, so you can have mine – Amelias” she told him, pulling one of the many she used from her skull – she doubted he knew it but his investigators could corroborate it. If he knew her real name he would dismiss it and she would know that he knew.

Small things add up to large things eventually after all, pieces of scattered data coalesce to form a while and I need a way out of here she told herself as she continued to scowl at the man before her and work at her ropes, what little she could at any rate.

[Astator]

Decorum “Come now Zandelia, you want me to believe that my current employers didn't give me any information on you? I mean seriously. Amelias... I'll have to remember that.” He waved his hand at the comment though and just smirked, “Struggle all you want, the more you try to loosen that rope... The sooner my associates have a reason to pummel you up to an inch of death. Your choice though really.” It was finished with a nod of his head as he once more leaned towards her. Watching her struggle with the rope was amusing, listening to her rant and rave was even more amusing. “I'll tell you what. Why don't we just leave, and you can just... Hang around and think about the following question, sound fair?” Standing up Nathaniel picked up his coat and shrugged it back on, taking his time to make sure it wasn't dirty nor wrinkled before he grabbed the candle off of the table and motioned for his men to grab the table and chair, which they did easily enough. Stacking chair onto the table and then carrying the two out the door without any issues whatsoever. With a nod at their completion he looked back at Zandelia, “Now... My employers wants to know why you think it is okay to go sneaking around in the underbelly looking for whatever you think is worth anything. They don't like hearing about people digging up dirt on them... It makes them angry and twitchy... They don't like being twitchy... That means I don't like them being twitchy.” Nathaniel nodded and started towards the door. Pausing just before he left and raise a finger to the ceiling once again. “One more thing before I leave... You speak wrong of my mother again and I will make sure you get that chance to speak with her good and long... maybe you'll get to see some of the aquatic life while your at it.” With that said, Nathaniel nodded and left the room, leaving Zandelia in the dark and strung up like a canvas drying out in the sun. The door swung shut behind the handsomely clothed man and the sound of several locks being locked was heard.

[Zandelia]

Zandelia hung there, swaying slightly in the empty void of space that one never notices about rooms until they are trapped in them, hoisted up on a meat hook and had their legs tied to rings in the floor either side of them. On balance she was confident that it was such a unique situation that such observations were probably laced with a small vein of hysteria, however she let it run free as the man spoke as it made a decent distraction from the inevitable scenario she knew was to come. In many ways she was thankful for him having showed that perspective to her, it allowed her a different look upon things. Before she had wondered how she could survive in such a cramped space – now she realized just how much space she would have to use if she could but break free.

She did catch his last comments all too clearly though, through her feigned disinterest and a sliver of frustration seeded itself within her as she watched the room be emptied of any form of tool, weapon or barricade she could have used. Against her better judgement, and her mental fortitude, she could feel laughter welling up from within her chest – mad laughter of the kind that only those about to face the gallows can fully appreciate. Her arms trembled as the laughter almost doubled her over, or as far as she could double over whilst in mid-air and tied up. It was some chimes before the laughter receded and manic merriment was replaced with the cold, calculated assertion that she was going to die in the rat infested hole in the ground she was currently in.

“Well, touched a nerve there I think…” she muttered to herself as the last of the chuckles ebbed their way out of her chest.

Though what good it will do me when it might get me drowned I don’t know. Though….it would get me out of here. Could do with a bath after this too. Akajia help me, guide me from this shadowed place and into a safer embrace of darkness she prayed, the act itself bringing some comfort, if pointlessly so.

“Now, how the petch…do I get out….of these things!” she growled to herself between exasperated breaths of fetid air.

She struggled against the ropes further, feeling a little more give in them than there had been before but still not enough to call the bonds broken. In real terms they were still very much confining her, though she could feel that she was able to slide them across the smooth metal of the hook now – for all the good that it did her. She felt around the hook with her fingers until she found the edge of it, the knot that the thug had tied so tantalizing close but found she could only brush her fingers against it. She breathed deeply and hoped to the gods what she had planned would work, shifting her wrists, bit by bit, along the hook and finally getting a fingertip over the knot before trying to tug at it. After a few more frantic chimes she gave u and had only managed to loosen it slightly – if at all.

“Why in the name of the Goddess would they want me? I haven’t even found anything of note! Unless…I have and don’t know it. What the petch could it be Zandelia, think!” she talked to herself to help maintain her sanity.

“There was the merchant job, but they wouldn’t strike back at me with the power hanging over their heads – not directly at least. HE spoke of associates, and his name…where do I know his name from? Do I?” she tried to piece everything together and found she had meagre scraps and too many guesses.

She needed the blank data filled in.

“ALRIGHT! I’ll tell you why I thought it was a good idea you bastards, it’s because most of you in the city are shyking terrible at what I do. Clearly I was wrong about all of my assumptions…” she shouted at the many locked door in frustration.

“Bastards!” she shouted again, her anger venting and her emotional state as normal as it was going to be after the outbursts.

Why would they be twitchy? Unless they know that I can work places….the whore house, the merchants in the docks….they must have enemies there, or at least frequent the whore house and be afraid I pleasured something out of them… she tried to find the missing pieces by intelligent deduction and analytical thought.

“Is it one of the families? They’d need to be powerful and wealthy to hire out proxy soldiers to waste time on me with. Oh…SHYKE!!” she really did struggle then, swinging herself backwards and forwards as she tried to break either one of the knots tying her feet or the know holding hook in mid-air.

She would get hurt if she succeeded but it was paltry to what might happen to her if she stayed at their mercy. It was as she was jerking herself up and down, feeling the knot of the hook give little by little, that the door finally began to be unlocked – at just the wrong moment.

“Please Akajia, please help me. Lhex, Dira! No…wait…not Dira. Just…help” she murmured as she tried to steel herself for her fate.

[Astator]

Decorum Nathaniel had unlocked the door a chime into her rant to herself, this allowed the door to crack open just enough for him to hear her. It brought a smile on his face as he shoved the door wide open, bringing in all the light from the outside hallway into the room, casting a huge rectangle across the floor and into Zandelia's eyes. Tanner, one of the twins, wasted no time crossing the gap between door and his victim. Balling up his right hand into a fist the thug slammed it hard into Zandelia's stomach, there was no expression on his face, no comment as to why he did so, just the quick movement to step before her and then the attack to her gut. While the one twin was doing that, the other was busy dragging the table and chair back into the room, out of the way of his stony faced brother and Zandelia. It was with a scowl that Nathaniel came back into the room carrying a small tray with a teapot and cup arranged with saucer, sugar, and cream. “You defile the names of deities, you treat me with such vulgar words and actions. Those I can overlook as most do such things in the dark.” Placing the tray on the table he turned to her, “Thank you Milo, I think she learned her lesson. Why don't you and Tanner go out in the hall and relax? Drink some ale. Just shut the door for me okay?” He reached into a pocket of his coat and pulled out the stub of candle from before, a flint and steel, and a piece of kindling. The stub was soft enough from the previous use that all he had to do was poke the kindling into the wax and strike it to life with the flint and steel. The kindle flared up and he lit the candle before extinguishing it. Once there was a reasonable glow of light in the room Nathaniel looked at the agent hanging from the hook, “I hope you understand why Milo did such a thing. I really don't like it when people try to remove themselves from a perfectly comfortable location. Milo really finds it offensive because that is his knot there.” the man pointed at the knot on the hook. Holding up the teapot and looked at his victim, “Tea?” Without waiting a response he poured enough to fill the teacup and placed it on the saucer. Then with a steady hand added a small scoop of sugar and a small drizzle of cream before he stirred it and held it in her direction. The sugar and cream were for the taste of the tea. It was Iskyny Tea after all, something the man before Zandelia was quite capable of making. “I will have Tanner and Milo bring in a chair and allow you to seat back down, still bound of course, if you promise to relax and be a civilized young lady. I am sure you are thirsty, what with all that yelling, cursing, and struggling you have been doing. I am quite certain this tea will help you relax. Most people don't realize the soothing and calming aspects of that tea has a their body. Especially warm tea.” Without waiting for a response from her he called out to one of his men, “Why don't you wait here before she gives me an answer to my questions? If she says yes to any of them please bring back her chair from earlier and get your brother to help her down and back into it. Okay?” The twin just gave a nod.

[Zandelia]

As the door opened and the locks clicked she was hoping for another conversation, or at least some period within which she could prepare herself for their actions – she was afforded no such respite however. The thug, previously dubbed Tanner, left her with little time to breathe as he rushed across the room to slam a meaty fist into her abdomen, forcing the air from her lungs as she curled over his fist – a grunt the only sounds she was able to make as pain erupted across her world. White sparks danced across her vision as Tanner moved away and the full pain of the damage he had inflicted coursed through her torso when she was able to breathe in and expand her lungs once more – ragged, half-breaths for a while before full breathing was restored.

Tanner…I’ll remember the name, mostly so I know who to petching destroy! she raged privately, unable to speak and wiser to stay silent at any rate. The anger leant her a strength that helped repulse any sense of fear.

“Screw you, you shy-“ and another jab to the right side of her face, not as hard as the first but enough to remind her of consequences, stalled the words in their tracks.

She hung limply then for a few chimes, her shoulders threatening to dislocate with the tension on the joint before she was able to push herself back up and support her weight once more. She was tired though, so very tired of the effort and she could feel the lactic acid pooling in her arms and readying to begin the cramping that would likely lead to damaged joints with the jerking. She was forced to listen to the postulating, self-absorbed words of the leader as he tried to fashion himself a gentleman whilst he committed dark deeds. There was no honour in him and she could not be bothered to waster her words pretending otherwise. At any rate he merely let her dangle there further, dismissing one of street thugs for now – though she doubted he would be far away for if he were needed.

“I don’t accept drinks from people who hang me from a damned hook, nor do I take religious counsel from criminals – at least priests are official thieves,” she returned, knowing she had little choice but to play Nathaniel’s game but finding her own way to do it, “but fine, I will tell you what you want to know if it means I get a chair” she told him.

Silence reigned for a few moments, her was no doubt considering, before he waved his hand once more and she was hoisted off of the hook and a chair brought in for her to sit in. Her hands were un-bound but then bound out in front of her so that she was better able to pick up his proffered tea – she did not make a move to take it, she was not foolish enough to believe it was for her own good. She had gained much so far whilst giving very little, she doubted it would last. She looked at the man across the table and wondered if he knew as much as he claimed or if he were bluffing. She shook her head to clear her senses – she would find out soon enough. Focusing her attention back on him she frowned and licked her lip, the blood in her mouth was thinning now as her wounds began to clot a little.

“Fine, you have me sitting like you wanted. You obviously have resources and I am not in any old part of the city – from the masonry that much is clear. So, I assume you work for someone who has the time to worry about small game such as myself, which means rich people perhaps,” she laid out her assumptions, carefully watching his face to check for any ticks that would give anything away, “you pretend to be a gentleman and your clothing is quite rich but hardly luxurious, so a middle-man?” she asked him, her lips beginning to swell a little now and hampering her speech even as her ribs complained at her wit every breath.

“So, you clearly have…clients…who are worried about me knowing something, but my question is why? And what? I have had no dealings with the families as of yet so I am at a loss. Enlighten me with you intellect why don’t you” she finished, her gaze bleary but still fixed upon Nathaniel but her body crying out to be left to rest.

But I can’t, not whilst I’m trapped here. I must stay alert, learn and adapt. Need to get out of here… she told herself, trying to keep her focus.

[Astator]

Decorum Nathaniel tsk'd at her, it was an audible sound that escaped his lips. It spoke volumes as to how he reacted to her words and lack of manners. “You know, I would normally divulge such information if it seemed pertinent to my current predicament, but for you.” He paused and looked at his thugs, “Well, it doesn't really fit into the plan, you see? They don't know what information you have or could possible obtain... Honestly, they don't want you to even be around Ravok, for quite some time. So why don't we just handle this my way and get back to business huh?” He snapped his fingers and pointed to Zandelia. “Funnel her. Make sure she drinks the whole pot. No sweeteners.” He looked back at the girl, “I wish you would've just taken the tea like a good sweet, then I wouldn't have to use such unnecessary roughness and mar up such a beautiful face.” He shrugged, “But you gave me no other choice.” He left the room, ushering in the other thug who was holding what appeared to be a club. Neither thug spoke a word this entire time, and still they remained silent. Tanner, the thug that was in here with Nathaniel, grabbed her arms and rebound them in a different fashion, running a length of rope between the loops on her wrists and trying the two ends together tightly on the rings, first the right wrist to the right ring, the left wrist to the left ring. Testing the knots on all ends the thugs seemed reassured that they would stick. Tanner left, leaving Milo with the club to keep guard. Well, the guarding expect didn't last very long. Milo stepped forward and presided to pummeling the defenseless victim in the arms, first to the left and then to the right, a few connects to each, not enough to break her bones just enough to bruise her arms. Then to both her legs, once again only to the point of bruising. It was during the last swing to Zandelia's right leg that Tanner returned with a wooden funnel and proceeded to cram the cone shaped apparatus into Zandelia's mouth. It was only then that it would dawn on Zandelia the fullness of their actions, Milo picked up the tea pot, steam could be seen puffing from the pot's stem. He brought it around behind her, so she couldn't lash out against him and knock the pot full to the ground. With no warning Milo started to pour the hot concoction down her throat, Tanner all the while making sure she couldn't remove the funnel from her mouth... The hot tea would force Zandelia's throat to at first restrict, causing her to choke, and then it would automatically start swallowing, the acrid tea would taste horrid. The tea was made from the Iskyny plant, which was a swamp plant, so the tea tasted heavily of muggy air, fetid smelling soil, and a whole variety of slime coated creatures. Iskyny tea also made a person extremely sleepy. So very sleepy indeed that fighting it was practically impossible... A whole pot of the stuff was probably unimaginably difficult to stay awake from.

[Zandelia]

She watched and listened as the craven before her merely added to her already considerable annoyance – he really was a pompous son of a bitch when all was said and done. She face darkened as Nathaniel spoke, his tone grating upon her ever nerve like a file rasping across rusted iron. He was not as interesting as she had thought at first, his words were either rippled out of his twisted mouth for the sake of annoyance, or her truly knew nothing of why he was asked to do the things that he did. He had killed his own mother that much was clear to her and he was touchy about the subject – something that told her he was either and unwilling pawn or an insane hound of the higher ups. She was also inclined to think he was hired out by a minor family in Ravok – not the powerful cache of possibility she expected.

No, a minor dog to a minor house and he’s got me trussed up like a whore for the raping. I’m surprised he hasn’t already. Why even bring me here if there is going to be nothing but whimsical words? It makes no sense! she thought to herself as she tried to think of a way out of her predicament, his final words giving her pause at least.

“What plan? Why drink the damned tea?” she asked, but was given no answer with the tongue.

Instead blows from the vicious wooden club rained down upon her, a torrent of brutally calculated impacts that rendered her world filled with nothing but pain and anguish. Her arms and legs were splayed, just the right position to cause maximum pain for minimum damage she now realized. She grit her teeth at first, refusing to let the bastard take her screams as something to enjoy once he was finished. It became too much though, biting her lip until blood was drawn did nothing to distract her body from the other blows and cries of a ragged, throat ripping nature burst forth from her throat. She was sure they would end up breaking her bones, if they hadn’t already and was almost beyond the ability to stay conscious when the physical brutality ended abruptly.

“You are a son of a bitch Nathaniel, and I’m sure everyone petching knows it!” she shouted at him, her last act of defiance as her mouth was grasped and a pipe made of Goddess knew what was shoved down her throat.

She gagged terribly, trying to stop herself from vomiting as she knew it would merely make matters worse – her panic-stricken mind telling her that truth of logic at least in its frenzied state. Through tear strewn eye she made out the edges of a funnel and the dead-eyed thug dubbed Milo bringing the still steaming tea towards her. She struggled then, thrashing about as much as she could and causing a good portion of the first pour to scald her skin instead of into her mouth, muffled roars of rage causing her to gag enough for them to take advantage – the rest seared her from the inside, the warmth heading resolutely into her abdomen. The pain became too much, so much so that she did not even care for her safety anymore – she fought, tugging at her bonds. The skin of her right wrist tore and bled profusely as her hand came free and smashed the funnel and the rest of the tea away.

“Mrghsjs!” was all her tortured throat could get out as she connected her fist squarely with Milo’s nether regions.

Not even he, giant that he was, could prevent the normal reaction of bending over upon impact. She felt a colossal drowsiness descend upon her then and, with her last ditch effort before losing consciousness, raked her nails across his eyes and hoped she had bloody blinded them.

It was the take, that was how they got me. Bastards… was the last, half-lucid thought, that fileld her mind before silence took her.

She assumed it would be the silence of death.