The heartbeats quickened. No one in their right minds could think him an actual traitor, right?
"You can't be serious, I told you I know naug-" The once distilled fear in his voice started shaking him more. But the rest of his plead could not be heard, it was a muffled grunt under a piece of cloth. Kahn'a shook in his chair, he wanted it off, he wanted out. The wave of panic struck much earlier than he had anticipated. Being robbed of his sight was bad, but he could cope with that. No, it was only prior knowledge that inspired him the terrible fear he was prey to.
Waterboarding. If there was one thing to be learnt about Kahn'a Od'hilkas, it was that he was scared to death of large bodies of water. They stretched as far as the horizon went, ready to swallow any and all into their depths.
Kahn'a already felt deprived of air. Very false observation, since he found himself soon screaming when the bucket of water was poured on his head. Hands clawed at the chair, muscles tensed in ungodly speed and force, he shook and screamed on the chair like a demon, a possessed soul hollering in the name of its voidsent.
Twenty seconds were short. But you thought the life was being squeezed out of you, it felt like an eternity. The Keeper gargled on water multiple times, coughed, spat, screamed again. A floating sensation was creeping inside him, by before he could give in, the towel was removed.
And twenty second is all it took.
All it took to break the young man's calm demeanour. His manners, his self-control. All of that, gone in twenty seconds.
He was no extraordinary man. Just a soldier that had been in the right place at the right time. And with a cruel symmetry, he had been caught on the worst timing possible. There, his face revealed, he was crying for his life. You could know that the grim exercise only meant to simulate death, it did not make it any less frightening, mind-shattering. Perhaps something in the Keeper had actually died there.
"P-please," he begged, "I-I am useless to you. I only wanted to change this place for the better. I did nothing. I know naught."
Pitiful supplication followed with gross sobs, motivated by a primal fear. No resistance was possible.
"You can't be serious, I told you I know naug-" The once distilled fear in his voice started shaking him more. But the rest of his plead could not be heard, it was a muffled grunt under a piece of cloth. Kahn'a shook in his chair, he wanted it off, he wanted out. The wave of panic struck much earlier than he had anticipated. Being robbed of his sight was bad, but he could cope with that. No, it was only prior knowledge that inspired him the terrible fear he was prey to.
Waterboarding. If there was one thing to be learnt about Kahn'a Od'hilkas, it was that he was scared to death of large bodies of water. They stretched as far as the horizon went, ready to swallow any and all into their depths.
Kahn'a already felt deprived of air. Very false observation, since he found himself soon screaming when the bucket of water was poured on his head. Hands clawed at the chair, muscles tensed in ungodly speed and force, he shook and screamed on the chair like a demon, a possessed soul hollering in the name of its voidsent.
Twenty seconds were short. But you thought the life was being squeezed out of you, it felt like an eternity. The Keeper gargled on water multiple times, coughed, spat, screamed again. A floating sensation was creeping inside him, by before he could give in, the towel was removed.
And twenty second is all it took.
All it took to break the young man's calm demeanour. His manners, his self-control. All of that, gone in twenty seconds.
He was no extraordinary man. Just a soldier that had been in the right place at the right time. And with a cruel symmetry, he had been caught on the worst timing possible. There, his face revealed, he was crying for his life. You could know that the grim exercise only meant to simulate death, it did not make it any less frightening, mind-shattering. Perhaps something in the Keeper had actually died there.
"P-please," he begged, "I-I am useless to you. I only wanted to change this place for the better. I did nothing. I know naught."
Pitiful supplication followed with gross sobs, motivated by a primal fear. No resistance was possible.
