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Hamish Macbeth

Land Without Magic

My Content
Oct 12 2017, 07:42 PM
Hamish wasn’t sure it was such a good idea to be so near to the castle, but he hadn’t been able to calm his curiosity. He had told Priscilla he would be going out for a little while- just to get some fresh air because being in the room all the time made him restless. Being in a chair was bad enough, he didn’t need to be stuck in a confined space on top of that. And he was sure Priscilla understood that, which is why he felt a little bit guilty about lying to her so blatantly.

Of course he hadn’t gone out to get some air. Ever since the castle had first appeared, he had been interested in trying to figure out what was happening there. He had wanted to know if there was something he could do to help. A normal human who was still recovering from a near fatal bullet wound could still be of some use... Right?

It had seemed like a better idea before getting into the forest.

It was tough pushing the chair over the uneven terrain, but the thing was outfitted for more rigorous expeditions than the norm. He pushed himself through the grass, slowly making his way carefully through the forest. The last thing he wanted was to be met by some of those undead guards, or really any of the creatures guarding the place. He was injured and still largely confined to his wheelchair. While he could walk if he needed to, he certainly couldn’t run without putting himself through a world of pain.

Not that it would stop him if he really needed to get away.

Thankfully, though, luck was on his side, and he had managed to get fairly close to the castle without anything seeing him. He was on a rise in the forest, the hill providing a higher angle to look down at the castle from. It still didn’t give a perfect view of the large place, but it was the best he was going to get for where he was at that moment.

He frowned, watching the guard tower nearest him. He could see the undead wobbly along the wall, armed and sporting rusted sets of armor. Though they seemed mindless, it was clear they were operating as standard guards would, patrolling the walls and keeping an eye on the area surrounding the castle grounds. It must have been the magic- it was ensuring they followed the mindless actions of a battle-ready army.

Worse than that, he could see some guards standing at the top of the towers, armed with bows that were ready to fire down on unsuspecting people. This place wasn’t just a beaten up castle that had appeared one day- it was actually fortified.

Attacking it was going to take some thinking. He frowned, making as many mental notes as possible. He needed to get back to Priscilla before she started to wonder where he had gone.

Jun 21 2017, 05:40 PM
The first thing Hamish noticed upon waking up was that there were a lot of tubes connected to him. There was a tube taped to the side of his face that went into his nose. He wasn’t sure where it was going, but he was sure he probably wouldn’t like to learn about it. Then there seemed to be another tube in his side, hidden under his hospital gown, much larger than the one in his nose and connected to some kind of machine nearby. There were IVs connected to his arms- one that seemed to be fluids, and likely delicious drugs keeping the pain away, and the other to a bag of blood. With all the crimson he had decorated the police station with, he was sure he had probably needed a lot of blood to compensate for what had happened. He shifted slightly, letting out a weak moan when he discovered yet one more tube- one that seemed to be a catheter, and was in a place he wasn’t going to enjoy having it removed from later. There were other monitors hooked up to him, but they weren’t IN him, just attached to the surface of his skin to monitor his heart, pulse, and whatever else they had been keeping an eye on. It was like he had woken up under a sea of junk. He felt very groggy- he must have been asleep for a while. He wasn’t sure how long. Hours? Days?

He only vaguely remembered bits of what had happened. He had regained consciousness once when they were loading him into the ambulance. It had been very strange lying on the gurney, strapped down and unable to move. For a moment, he had thought he was being kidnapped, but that was probably just because of the blood loss. He had soon passed out again on the ride over, and there were only fleeting moments from that point on- flashes of images. Someone on top of him, the feeling of motion, an operating room, a doctor, a hallway. Nothing that made a great deal of sense, or formed a clear story of what had happened.

The copper had no idea that he had been rushed to the hospital over two days and three nights ago now, including the night he had been brought in, and had been taken into surgery almost immediately to repair a massive amount of internal damage caused by the bullet. It had entered his abdomen on a downward angle, the shooter on some kind of hill or incline when shooting at him, and had cut past his stomach on the way in, ricocheting off his spine and rupturing some of his small intestines before finally lodging itself in his pelvic bone. It had required a long, arduous span in surgery to repair the damage, and he wasn’t exactly finished with the surgeries yet, either, though he didn’t know about that, either.

He didn’t know that it had been a miracle his spine hadn’t been broken in the attack, or that he had narrowly avoided being paralyzed from the waist down. His pelvis hadn’t been so lucky, though, which would making walking painful for a while. As if it wouldn’t be from all the trauma to his abdomen.

After the first surgery, he had been in critical condition in the ICU, on life support with a breathing tube down his throat. He had remained on life support for several hours, intermittent between more surgeries to repair the damage whenever he was strong enough to handle them. Eventually, after a day of struggling, his stats improved and he was upgraded to stable, but critical condition. He was taken off life support, as he was strong enough to breathe on his own again. Their biggest concern following the surgeries was monitoring him for signs of infection- with the obstructions to both his stomach and small intestine he had been exposed to a plethora of bacteria. Thankfully, though, he did not seem to develop an infection, though he was not away from the potential dangers of it just yet.

He did well the next day, unconscious but steadily increasing in his stats and strength. The doctors became hopeful that his prognosis was a good one- he would recover and the gravest dangers had passed. It became about keeping an eye on him and giving him time to heal.

No, he didn’t have any idea of any of that. He didn’t know that it was now the morning of his third day at the hospital, and his first time being fully conscious since getting there. All he knew was that he was feeling a little high and a little uncomfortable. He was lying in a hospital bed, that much he had gathered. Shot. Remembered that. He took a look around the room, his gaze coming to rest on a beautiful blonde woman asleep in the chair beside him. He smiled faintly, watching her.

His dogs, Towser and Jock, had seemingly found their way into the hospital room as well, though he didn’t know how they had gotten there or when. Jock was sleeping on a chair near the far corner of the private room, while Towser was sitting loyally at the other side of the bed, across from Priscilla. He whimpered softly when his master started to move, but seemed reluctant to try and get attention from him. Perhaps some part of his dog brain understood that his master was badly hurt and he needed to be careful.

“Priscilla,” he mumbled, his voice kind of raw from the lack of water. Most of his fluids were being given to him from one of the many tubes sticking in him. He noticed that her hand was wrapped over his, seemingly to have offered him comfort while he was unconscious, and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

Priscilla Halburton-Smythe
Jun 3 2017, 09:42 PM
Having had his car come with him to this new realm had been a bit of a blessing. It was like having a bit of Lochdubh there with him, even though he was God knows how far away, and might never get back to see those people again. His lovely little home- the place he had always fought to stay no matter what he’d been threatened with. Promotion, admiration, ambition- he had avoided all of it.

Just to fall through a hole.

So he really appreciated that his car, as well as his dogs, had come through to this unknown place along with him. He had been quite happy. Right up until his car started to sputter angrily and show signs of something being horribly wrong with it. The smoke that came from it whenever he hit the brakes was more or less the stuff of legends. He was sure that wasn’t healthy, for him or for his range rover.

Naturally, he had been unwilling to lose one of the few connections to his former home that he had left, so he was surprisingly quick to get his car to the shop to see if it could be tuned up. He was pretty sure he had never had a tune up on any vehicle before, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

He was just glad he had been making money as the police station’s only sergeant, as well as seemingly the only worthwhile cop on the force as a whole. He’d certainly been busier than he had been Lochdubh, minus for the murders back home.

Another reason his disliked this place- too much running around!

He got out of his vehicle and moved to find the shop’s owner, his usual police uniform replaced with jeans and a flannel shirt. It was nice to have a bit of time off, even if he was spending it getting his police car fixed.

“’Ello?” The man called, his thick Scottish accent drifting through the air. His tone was pleasant and warm, like he was legitimately saying hello to the air around him, “anyone in? Got em a bit ‘o trouble to tend to.”

May 24 2017, 12:36 PM
Well, this wasn’t good. Hamish frowned thoughtfully as he observed a body. A human body, freshly dead. It had been discarded in the forest, left to rot without any care as to whether or not it would be found. Or perhaps no one had assumed it would matter, given the state of the town. There were zombies everywhere. Bodies of people who had never lived in the town, and had possibly never lived at all. These creatures were beyond science, or anything that could be explained other than that it was magic at work. Evil, dark magic.

So with the zombies everywhere, it made sense for random bodies to pop up every now and again, right? But there was only one problem- this body wasn’t that of a zombie. It wasn’t one of those magically created creatures, but a corpse of someone who had been murdered the old-fashioned way, with a bullet to the skull. He looked at the man on the ground, his eyes still open in shock and horror, his pale face contorted in a frozen expression of fear.

This man, whomever he had been, had no been expecting to die out there in the words, and it certainly wasn’t a zombie, or even magic, that had killed him.

Funny. Somehow Hamish had thought his murder-solving days would be behind him in this new town, given all the magic and stuff like that, but it seemed bad people still existed, even in a town ruled by fairy tales. Carefully, the man moved to gather some evidence, putting his gloves on and taking out some bags. He would have to do a lot of the crime scene investigation on his own, as he no longer had a team he could call in from Inverness. As far as he knew, there was no real place to run forensics here at all. Perhaps the hospital could help? He’d heard tell of a woman there who studied bodies. Perhaps she could help with this.

How awkward it was having fewer resources here than even in Lochdubh! He didn’t even have a medical examiner to help him figure out when the body had died or what kind of gun might have been used.

He knew people roamed the forest a lot- perhaps he could find someone who could shed some light on what might have happened. Or, at the vest least, he could find a local who might know who to talk to about properly investigating this mess.

Sheriff Graham
May 6 2017, 02:24 PM
Hamish wasn't sure what to make of the new town. It wasn't all the magic and the monsters that had him in a bit of a fluster, it was the simple fact that it wasn't his beloved Lochdubh. He had always fought so hard to avoid promotion or being moved from his hometown, because it was the only place he had ever wanted to live. A place he had loved more than anything in the whole world, minus Priscilla. And now he had been pulled away from it by forces even stronger than the chain of command at the police station.

Now there seemed no chance of getting back home. It put him in a greatly sour mood, though he did his best not to show it. He had taken up his position as sergeant at the police station, the local place much larger than the home he had made out of his station in Lochdubh, if not by much. It seemed to need more than one officer to look after the crazy town, that was for sure.

He had needed a place to live. They had suggested the inn or the bed & breakfast to start with, but he didn't feel comfortable living with so many other people in such a closed-in box of houses. Instead, he had discovered an old, clearly unused interrogation room inside the police station, at the back, and had decided to renovate that into a room for himself. No one seemed to mind, they were even willing to help.

Soon enough, the room had everything he needed to survived, minus a kitchen which the break room could provide and a bathroom which could also be found out in the lobby. The room was more than big enough for the thrifty copper and his two dogs, one a large mongrel and Towser and the other a small West Highland Terrier named Jock. With his Range Rover parked out back, it almost felt a little bit like home.

He just needed some sheep and chickens to put somewhere and he'd be golden.

Still, the discontent wasn't going to fade. He had more work to do in Storybrooke, and it was all a lot stranger than drug busts, breaking up drunken brawls and the occasional murder case. Magic and mystery- he was in a whole new ballpark and he wasn't really sure what to do with himself.

It was about mid-afternoon and Hamish finally rolled himself out of bed, getting dressed in his uniform lazily before fluffing his fiery red hair and cleaning himself up to look more presentable. The Highlander looked himself over in the mirror before lazily sauntering his way out of the interrogation room that was now his apartment and into the corridor leading to the main hub of the police station.

For a moment, it looked as though no one was there- something he was used to seeing. Despite the chaos, the other coppers always seemed to be out. Actually, he was pretty sure at least two of them didn't know a damn thing about real law enforcement. The sheriff and her deputy seemed to have no experience in anything real and appeared to have been haphazardly placed in the position by luck or perhaps a town vote. It was a little ridiculous, even for the laid-back Scotsman.

His superior was someone more inept than Chief Inspector Blair!

Rachel Cole-alves
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