Posting my RP of the Remnant of Gor Group for a broader audience
05:12p] Topic is: GOR. A Den hidden in the marshes of the Vosk Delta. This is not an establishment in a bustling city. Have a reason for risking your life in the Delta. Arrival by wagon train, on foot, or by jumping off a passing ship will NOT be acknowledged. The place is HIDDEN - be creative or be gone.
[05:12p] You'll be traveling north east of the City of Port Kar proper. Along tiny tributaries that may or may not be there on any given day. The Den is obscured within the marshes themselves and not necessarily on any solid ground. a small network of floating decks keep you from stepping out and getting your shoes wet.
[06:37p] › WaylandSmith has joined the conversation.
[06:47p] WaylandSmith : The Smith looked at the buttocks of his bosk silently cursing the fact that it wasn't more shapely like a kajira's. Trailing through the desolate marshy lands of the peninsula had brought him neither wealth, wisdom, nor pleasure. In fact by now the back of his bosk was looking more attractive than it ought to. The bosk for his - for it was a he - part was struggling with the mullish ground. The hooved feet sinking ever deeper in the soft marshlands and the wheels of the Smiths barrow dragging ever harder. A light drizzle descended from the skies to add to the already gloomy surroundings - for no other reason than the absence of his fiery forge, the tall frame of the Smith shivered under his thick leather and wool clothes. Glancing up at the sky he pondered whether there was some other place that might be drier and more cheerful - Vendara for example - or the arm pit of a sleen. Each was as attractive as the other, he snorted. The bosk uttered a sound that was a mix of desperation, frustration, and plain old winging - it then stopped moving and stood in the thickening drizzle as wisps of steam rose from the beasts heavy coat. The Smith restrained from striking the back of the bosk with his whip - he knew it would serve no purpose but to quieten the discomfort in his own mind. Spitting a large gob of slime to add to the already unsound grounds he looked around. Nothing in this godfsorsaken surroundings indicated any sign of human life let alone sane life.
[06:57p] Fury : she carefully picked her way along the series of floating (sometimes) decking - floating today, because of the previous rains that had once again flooded the delta. Holding a long forked stick - aptly named her Marsh-moccasin-pushing-stick to push any of the lengthy yet slender snakes into the water should she encounter one while navigating her way to the fishing lines she'd set this morning. Hoping there was a decent meal on the end of them. Tugging on the first of the three lines she felt resistance , success! Then carefully winding the string around the pole that had, moments before, been wedged into a hollowed out stump created just for the purpose of her rods. She was glad that her small pit fire was already burning and ready with coals. She could, of course, eat her fish raw if necessary - but preferred not to. Suddenly she heard an odd groaning sound upon the wind... it sounded like something might be dying somewhere, but what could it be? the bellowed groan was far to deep to be kaiila or tabuk, It sounded nothing like the Ul that hunted the marshes....She paused in her line-winding and wedged the rod back into the stump and took her forked stick in hand again, before making her way back along the decking to the soggy ground surrounding the den itself... peering around and looking for the source of the sound... what would be crazy enough to wander out here?
[07:04p] WaylandSmith : The Smith felt a rumble of hunger and considered his options... There was the option of eating something - muesli like stuff of some age - mixed with water - he shook his head mumbling to himself. This was not the dinner he was looking for - raw fish looked more attractive. At that moment his bosk let out another cry of despair or bullheadedness he wasnt sure which, the ground gave way even more and the Smith realised that he might sink- bosk, cart and all into the muck. Ever conscious of the need to care for his beasts he jumped off the cart onto the ground - this was simply put - a mistake - the ground gave way beneath his heavy frame and he sank midway to his knees into the mud. When he tried to raise his foot the ground sucked on his foot like a kajira latching onto a mans cock after a decade of deprivation.
[07:08p] Fury : as she rounded the corner toward the backside of the Den, she heard it again... Now she knew she wasn't going crazy... there WAS something out there and it sounded like it was struggling.... it sounded.... bovine. She looked up towards the sky, as a silly thought that maybe a bosk dropped out of it, passed through her mind. But that silly thought was certainly more logical than one simply wandering around out here... Could a tarn carry a whole bosk? Could a bosk survive a fall? If a bosk survove (was that even a word?) a fall.... would it be broken?? Was there fresh meat out there ready for the taking, that she was missing??Suddenly this didnt seem all that crazy afterall... she heard it - it was out there, and if it was broken she was gonna eat it.
[07:10p] WaylandSmith : "Priest kings be damned!" The Smith yelled at the drizzle from the sky - the drizzle gave no answer but the skies open wider and rain was supplemented with a lashing wind that tore over the flat delta like an icy kiss. Shaking his arms in mock surrender the Smith muttered a small prayer of forgiveness to the Priest Kings.
[07:11p] Fury : As she began moving towards the sound... she heard another... and looked up again, half expecting a Tarnsman to come looking for his broken bosk... she hurried in her steps, if that thing was broken she was getting to it first, possession was 9/10ths of the law afterall.
[07:13p] WaylandSmith : The fury of the weather continued unabated - rains pelting down in the sodden delta combining with a northwesterly wind that seemed to cut through cloth and bone. Casting a nervous glance to left, right,, and centre the Smith ascertained that there was truly not a Priest King in sight. Just sodden marshland - that and nothing more but the howling fury of the wind. With an effort beyond the ken of most men he lifted his right foot out of the muck without losing his boot,and then his left.
[07:14p] Fury : she swept the ground with her stick making sure not to step on any Marsh moccasins.. living out here in the Delta you knew you didnt want any kind of emergency that required any medical intervention - she paused for a brief moment to Moo... or something... she needed more sound. The rain picking up didnt help things and she pushed the plastered hair out of her face. She knew it was crazy being out here looking for a bosk... but... meat. Not fish. Was a helluva motivator.
[07:15p] WaylandSmith : "Ok 'Big Jim' " he spoke to his trusty bosk - "you and I are going to find a place to shelter for the night. Now, dont look at me like that, this may not be uptown Ar but surely there must be a den of some kind perhaps a hidden town of kajira and female horny bosks eh, Big Jim?"
[07:16p] Fury : "Mooooooo.... here bosk.... say something, let me know where you are! Moooooooo!" She did her best to imitate the sound of a bosk that wasnt broken in hopes that it would elicit a response from the broken one.... She was certain, now, that a bosk fell from the sky and was broken.
[07:16p] WaylandSmith : with that he drew the bosk to one side by the reins and laboriously started making his way north east - backing off from the deeper marshes and its mysteries. Backing off from the pelting rain, howling wind and the mooing of aenmic, asthmatic bosks. His own bosk snorted - whether from an oncoming cold or the pathetic imitation of she-bosk sounds that seemed to flitter through the air noone will ever know. The Smith however was still processing the incongruous information - somewhere between the pitiless sodden weather there appeared to be the sound of another 'animal' a female animal even.
[07:20p] Fury : The more she walked the squishier the ground got,, her boots were soaked, her feet were cold, and she still hadnt found that damn animal. She too began to mutter in frustration - if that bosk was dying it wouldnt be much good for too long after, she'd have to find it, and soon. "Where are you, you stupid animal!! Make noise!"
[07:22p] WaylandSmith : The words 'stupid animal' reached the ears of the Smith and suddenly he was alert despite the clammy clothes, cold weather and lashing winds. Was he in danger? Several people had less than fond memories of the Smith and he was ever alert at not making their acquaintance anew - in an attempt at subterfuge or possibly plain idiocy he grunted like a Tarsk in response. If they thought him a stupid animal so much the better - his dagger and sword if nothing else would cut short any sharp witted tongue.
[07:26p] Fury : She froze.... a bosk AND a tarsk??? this was getting more ridiculous by the ihn. What ever was out there seemed to be playing a trick on her... or... perhaps trying to entrap her . She instantly regretted leaving the den with nothing more than her moccasin pushing stick and a small dirk in her soaked boot. she scanned the ground around her... maybe she could find a Marsh moccasin and fork it with her stick... if nothing else she could throw it at someone. Alas no snakes out and about in the rain. So she stood and thought a moment... then finally finding a backbone (hers) she called out...."Who is out there! What is your business? We are armed!"
[07:28p] WaylandSmith : his ears picked up nothing more than the howling fury of the wind and rain - the Smith turned away from the delta and made for safer harder grounds. It was slow and laborious going but Big Jim and he eventually made headway.
[07:29p] Fury : She figured the 'we' aspect would make someone with nefarious intent think twice and she did have arms... two of them... its not like she lied.
[07:30p] WaylandSmith : Perhaps the sound of a voice echoed through the rain and the screech of the wind - the bosk and Smith were oblivious making directly for a patch of higher and drier - well, less sodden, ground - the sun standing already low on the horizon was beginning to sink below the edge of the sky. Darkness covered the Marsh, the Smith, and hidden areas of the Port Kar peninsula in an increasingly opaque blanket of blackness.
[07:33p] Fury : Stood in silence and listened hard... hearing nothing but the pelting of raindrops as they hit the ground around her... seeing no movement, hearing no responses... not even the bosk or the tarsk made another noise. Maybe she'd been mistaken, maybe her mind was playing tricks on her... maybe she'd been out here alone for too long.... maybe it was time to plan a trip.....
[07:34p] WaylandSmith somewhere the line was crossed between the Karian peninsula and the mainland - with it the air seemed to warm, the wind seemed to lose its Fury and the rain petered out to a few random droplets gradually drying to nothing. In the distance a bridge could be seen - a bridge more importantly flanked by an inn with smoke coming from its stack. Looking back one more time towards the desolate Fury of the peninsula the Smith, reckoned it could not be approached by land whether on foot or cart - nay...
[07:36p] Fury : Hearing nothing more and with nightfall decending she gave up her search for the bosk - it would be impossible to find in the dark - maybe if she heard more in the morning. Right, perhaps that bosk wasn't so broken so as to be dead in the morning. Heading back to the Den, her small fire rained out she decided that bread and previously dried fish would be tonights meal.