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RoG: Wayland's Journey - Wayland enjoys a memory of happier days (11)

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Male - 58 years old, Belgium
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Posted: 2020-04-05 5:04:51 am Category RolePlay Viewed 483 times Likes 4

08:23p] › You are now known as WaylandSmith.

[08:23p] › You have joined the conversation.

[08:23p] Topic is: (RoG) Port Kar - Post-apocalyptic roleplay

[08:23p] Roleplay in. Setting: various places in and around Port Kar.

 [08:25p] WaylandSmith The jit - possibly intrigued by the single human and bosk in sight - loitered around the area of the dock as the smith disembarked his animal. It took him a moment to find a suitable gangplank and without the help of the army of hangers on that tended to flock around the docks he was somewhat at a loss of what to do next. At least he didn’t need to fear the ubiquitous pickpockets as these seemed to have gone the way of everyone else.

[08:28p] WaylandSmith Looking to the skies as if these could provide an answer Wayland rubbed his stubbly chin with a rough hand. He had expected - at a cost - to have been able to lodge his bosk and have his cart set aside somewhere safe in a warehouse. Then he would have sought out a green caste to perform a bit of restore & repair on his arm. The bandage was again sodden with blood and the wound needed stitching something that was beyond the smith's ability even if he would manage to do so on his own arm.

[08:30p] WaylandSmith For lack of a better plan he led his bosk to the dock's stables - they were vacant but left in such a state as if the occupants and workmen would return promptly - the feeling of doom that had overwhelmed him at the inn returned in full force. Wayland realised that the interlude with crab had distracted him from the gloomy feeling that some doom of epic proportions had befallen the whole planet. In the end - the deaths at the Inn might have been caused by human agency or some natural phenomenon.

[08:32p] WaylandSmith The eerie quiet in the once bustling city of Port Kar was anything but normal. Though he was tempted to call out 'Is anybody there?' he belayed doing so - in his heart of hearts he knew there would be no one to answer. His plan to find a mode of transport to the den of his friend Fury thwarted, he considered his next step - as he had stood quietly for a while the little jit had approached and a little tag or collar could be spied upon its neck. It was not wild it seems...

[08:34p] WaylandSmith Taking a closer look Wayland found the animal well kept, whilst it was conceivable this predated the cataclysm that hit Gor it seemed unlikely. Perhaps the owner or owners of the jit might still be around - would the animal be their spy? Again it seemed unlikely. The smith cast around looking for a net or some device by which he might catch the monkey so he might examine it closer and possibly determine where it came from.

[08:35p] WaylandSmith The animal was alert to such a move and as soon as Wayland stepped in its direction it fled scurrying up a drain pipe and disappearing amid the myriads houses and loading bays that dotted the area. Wayland reckoned he might need a sweetmeat or pastry to attract the animal, not anything he had on hand at the moment and in his wounded state he was no match for the animal's agility.

[08:37p] WaylandSmith Out of sheer frustration the smith aimed a vicious kick at a bucket that had never done him any harm but happened to be close by. The wooden item flew through the air and landed with a satisfying thud whilst the smith nursed a sore toe - frustration would serve no purpose he needed some method to explore the dead city.

 

[08:37p] 

WaylandSmith : Why dont I go to a place I know?

 

[08:39p] WaylandSmith Perhaps infected by the type of madness that strikes those who spend too much time alone he spoke out loud, unmindful of any who might hear. In any case with a new purpose he wandered over to an area he knew moderately well, the houses of Slaver as he was generally known. A misanthropic gold caste who made a living trading in slaves - Wayland did not consider him a friend but the man was at least familiar to him and he had on occasion delivered metal items to the man.

[08:44p] WaylandSmith Wayland recalled that Fury knew Slaver better as the latter occasionally had items belonging to formerly free women to dispose of and Fury had a way of - well - disposing of such items. Slaver's establishment could not be missed, a sign outside clearly advertised its wares: a collared naked girl, hands clasped behind her neck and eyes downcast, the steel collar around her neck, tied to a chain that was held by a hand on the right hand side.

[08:45p] WaylandSmith Just in case you had any doubts - the fiery red kef branded on her thigh declared the girl's station and a fat bulging purse on the ground before her suggested rather crudely that for a price one might acquire such a thing in that place. Admiring the quality of the iron work more than the sign itself, the smith let himself into Slaver's establishment. Already it was clear things were very wrong, as a slave trader Slaver never had a shortage of helping hands and in this case no one opened the door...

 

[08:47p] 

WaylandSmith : Err Slaver are you there?

 

[08:48p] WaylandSmith Wayland was annoyed with himself that the question came out in a bit of a gargled mumble, talking to Slaver was never pleasant as the two shared very little in terms of opinions. The silence that greeted him in return was - strangely - a relief even if it meant that Slaver also seemed to have met his end. The man - to his knowledge - never seemed to leave his place of business as the wares found themselves brought or attracted directly there.

[08:50p] WaylandSmith Comparing that to his own vagabond lifestyle was a matter the smith preferred not to reflect on. Passing through the entrance and into larger display hall he found it empty of people - it felt somehow as if no one had trod there for days at least. Going through the back he entered Slaver's office and found it empty, the desk set with his various writing paraphernalia and other odds and ends of his trade.

[08:52p] WaylandSmith The book case behind the desk set with the heavy merchant ledgers neatly ordered in chronological order. The owner of the place was nowhere to be seen and there was no sound of so much as a rodent haunting the place, awkwardly Wayland rifled through the desk but found nothing of interest, the cash box he left untouched. An intruder he might be, a thief he was not. Looking under the desk he found further proof that all was not well, it was the heavy key ring that Slaver always wore.

[08:54p] WaylandSmith Every door, every collar, every lock, every secret passage could be opened with the keys on the ring. They were unmarked to the untrained eye but Slaver knew every one of them - Wayland recognised some: in need of money he had made collars for Slaver. Collars with locks that would prevent the dainty fingers of the girl from every being able to remove the heavy steel. The sight of his old work made him thoughtful and he suddenly laughed out loud.

[08:54p] 

WaylandSmith : Ha, ha, ha oh yes that was a moment.

 

[08:56p] WaylandSmith Any would be observer would have taken the acts of the smith as one who feels the onset of madness. Wayland however had recalled an incident where Fury and he had cooperated in a fashion. It was many years before - a decade perhaps - Wayland had been distracted by a free woman as he worked on a sword.

[08:57p] 

WaylandSmith : What was her name again: Jezmo? Janice? No... Ah, yes Jasmin.

[09:06p] WaylandSmith Jasmin FW had previously had an irritating habit of soliciting the smith's attention and though he maintained a courteous facade he had not been particularly pleased to see her. Her other practice of whispering to him when she felt no one watched had also not endeared her to him regardless of the tantalising hints she dropped.

[09:08p] WaylandSmith So her appearance in his smithy brought more of a blank stare than the intense gaze she might have hoped for. Her hopes in that regard would have been vain in any case, Wayland's grey green eyes seldom betrayed any excitement except when it pertained to smithying. Ready to send her packing in as little time as decency and courtesy required the smith was surprised by her request. She wanted to place an order for 30 collars, kajira collars.

[09:10p] WaylandSmith It seemed that whilst Wayland had been unreceptive to the FW indecorous interest in men, someone else more savvy in these matters had seen it: Slaver. Knowing that Jasmin FW espoused a desire to be seen as a mover and shaker of sorts he had apparently been in regular communication with her. By means which Wayland never found out he extracted a promise from her that she would provide the merchant with 30 collars.

[09:12p] WaylandSmith Yes, collars, kajira collars - not exactly the sort of item that FW should be going around casting about for lest she find one around her slim neck. The collars were to be Jasmin's size and marked "PROPERTY OF SLAVER of PORT KAR" - allegedly to be used on his merchandise.

[09:14p] WaylandSmith Wayland pondered that even as Jasmin had spluttered out the request she must have been particularly gullible not to see that Slaver fully intended to place one of those collars around Jasmin's neck. Jasmin had been warned that if she failed to deliver the items, Slaver would take the matter very personally and pursue her for collaring.

[09:15p] WaylandSmith At the time Wayland had made no remark to Jasmin that either way the story would have an identical ending. The FW however was worried about something totally different, she feared that the FM in her house might hear she was investigating collars and decide to place one there themselves, something she claimed not to relish. Wayland had been on the point of saying that anyone doing such a thing might be doing him and the rest of Mankind a service when Jasmin produced the gold.

[09:17p] WaylandSmith Stupid as well as rich - were the words that had sprung to Wayland's mind however he forbore to speak them. Fury had already warned him that Jasmin seemed overly amorous in disposition for a FW and the last thing he wanted was to have to deal with that drama. Instead he accepted to fulfil the order that Jasmin required for Slaver - a price and time was agreed. The former was steep and the latter was short but it had been satisfactory.

[09:19p] WaylandSmith Thus the deal was struck, it was simple enough matter to craft the collars and etch the words in acid. There was only one practicality - namely finding the right size and Wayland had reached out for a length of twine to wrap round Jasmin FW neck so he could take the right size. This sent Jasmin into hissy fit.

[09:21p] WaylandSmith It would be unseemly for her to remove her veils in front of a FM etc... etc... At the time Wayland wondered what the exact nature of the flustered excitement of Jasmin was. Her face was reddened and her voice tense and rushed. Wayland would just have to guess - he resisted and she persisted and matters went round and round.

[09:24p] WaylandSmith Eventually they settled on a very convoluted solution - Wayland would manufacture a special collar marked Rovere that could be ratcheted wider or narrower as the case might be. Jasmin would retire and at a later stage in a room to be rented by Wayland, he would hang a white silk and somehow someone would be waiting wearing those silks in the room for the collar to be fitted. Once the right size was found, the collar would be removed and the order of 30 collars could be produced for Slaver.

[09:26p] WaylandSmith Making such an adjustable collar was complex and the agreed date for the fitting was three days hence. Three days in which Wayland did not fail to share the story with his friend Fury and inquired about her relations in Rovere - relations of which she had spoken amply in the past. The day came, all was set up as agreed and - in some manner - Jasmin FW slipped into the rented room of the inn where Wayland found her kneeling in the white robes with eyes downcast.

[09:28p] WaylandSmith Wayland paid scant attention to FW or kajirae alike but the flushed face and chest and the rapid intake of breath spoke of deep seated excitement in the woman. Keen to calm her as one might a nervous animal who might cause harm to itself, he caressed her cheek with the back of hand in a gesture of kindness. The heat of her cheek and the little cry of excitement it elicited should not have been unexpected but surprised Wayland anyhow.

[09:29p] WaylandSmith Without further ado he produced the collar, ratcheted it open and fitted it around the neck of the FW working carefully until it was just snug - then as tradition demanded he pulled the pins out of her hair and her long locks cascaded down.

[09:32p] WaylandSmith "There a perfect fitted collar on a slave girl" - he had said half-jokingly - adding rather cheekily: "I name you lust." An unmistakable change came over Jasmin as she seemed to take on the persona she had just been made into - her knees widening despite the resistance of the bunched up white silks - she spoke: "I wear Your collar now Master."

[09:34p] WaylandSmith Simple words spoken in a voice filled with sensual heat. "As long as I wear the collar, you can make me do your bidding. " she had said. The words were inebriating - arousing, it seemed that indeed a collar makes much more of a woman than veils ever did. However it was exactly the scenario that Fury had predicted would happen and to which Wayland had concurred, he did like being manipulated by a FW who wanted the excitement without the ultimate delicious consequence of truly wearing a collar.

[09:36p] WaylandSmith "Many wear my collars lust, none wear MY collar. However I do believe this occasion calls for paga. I will be right back." Passing Fury on the stairs he mentioned in passing that there was a girl named lust in the room wearing a collar of Rovere and whether perhaps Fury or her relations might have misplaced the girl. When he returned to the room; it was empty and he was able to enjoy his paga undisturbed by needy FW nor did he need make good on his word to remove the collar when the size had been established. Fury had later handed off lust to Slaver.

[09:38p] WaylandSmith As he recalled that a thought came unbidden. Wayland had kept the money from the slave collar commission but Fury had never shared the coin she obtained by paddling the kajira to the one who desired her in his collar. Thinking back to the year and approximmate time, he ran over the ledgers in the book case and after a dozen ehn found the entry for suppliers, cross referenced Fury and found the item in question.

[09:40p] WaylandSmith Half a silver tarsk! It seems Fury had extracted a small fortune for the superfluous item in white silks, Slaver was not one to part with his money lightly so whatever it was he would have sold her on fully trained at a large mark-up. In hindsight it seemed Wayland had lost out on the money front, oh well he consoled himself, money was never a great motivator.

[09:40p] WaylandSmith What’s more all this reminiscing had not brought him one step closer to re-establishing contact with Fury - he had hoped Slaver might have known how to contact her. This plan obviously lacked merit, from the corner of his eye he saw the jit again: back to plan A?


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