[09:05p] › You are now known as WaylandSmith.
[09:05p] › You have joined the conversation.
[09:05p] Topic is: (RoG) Port Kar - Post-apocalyptic roleplay
[09:05p] Roleplay in. Setting: various places in and around Port Kar.
[09:12p] WaylandSmith The jit scurried off again but somehow Wayland reckoned the little creature would be back. Seeing as Slaver and all his folk appeared to have exchanged the temporary station on this Gorean planet for some after life, Wayland felt he could usefully borrow a few items from the owner of the establishment. Where before he had lacked instruments to capture the jit, in this place there should be a surfeit of implements suitable to capture slightly larger female human prey.
[09:13p] WaylandSmith Armed with Slaver's large key ring he was able to open the back door to the main training area. He was less familiar with this part of the building, as he recalled kajirae were kennelled on the left hand side, after a few trials he found the right key and opened the door. This he regretted immediately.
[09:16p] WaylandSmith It was the matter of an ihn but a smell of such overwhelming putrefaction hit his nostrils that he heaved for several ehn before recovering his composure. It seemed that the guests of Slaver's establishment had also met their end but remained in their cages. The scent was mixed with equally unwholesome remains of latrine buckets that had not been emptied to form an odour powerful enough to upset any stomach. Steeling himself for a necessary job, Wayland took a deep breath and entered the room.
[09:20p] WaylandSmith It was possible after all that one or another of the animals might have survived, it would be cruel then to let it come to an undignified end. Conceivably the end that most Goreans met had eluded them, like it had eluded the smith when he was underground and the manner of death of most of these poor creatures was simply lack of water and care. The thought had been kind but the fifty odd cages of which just over half were filled had nothing but corpses in them.
[09:22p] WaylandSmith Each almost more horrible than the next as their faces showed great agony and fear. Terror had been their lot when they died. Death itself had not rendered the creatures more beautiful and though they once might have danced and allured a score of Men - their bodies now were artefacts of a horror Wayland could not conceive of. There were too many corpses to dispose of, so instead he barred the door as he slipped out and used a bit of chalk to write: Mausoleum of the Kajirae.
[09:29p] WaylandSmith For a long while a vile taste tainted his mouth and he found it difficult to shake the images of dread and horror from his mind. Animals and chattel these creatures might have been but none deserved such an ugly death - did his friend Fury meet a similar end? Having failed to meet a single living human being in the past days the odds did not seem good that she might yet live.
[09:36p] WaylandSmith In search of items with which he might catch the jit the smith tried another door and somewhat to his surprise exited into an Atrium - Slaver's place was larger than he had expected. The open area - a form of inner courtyard provided a pleasant respite from the busy bustle of the docks area of Port Kar. A little pseudo-ruined tower harboured a bower covered by a growing rose plant as well as a shaded area - from items standing around he gathered that this was a private space of the late merchant.
[09:39p] WaylandSmith Wayland frowned, he had hardly taken Slaver for such an epicurean let alone romantic, but it appeared he liked to be served in this little area by the girls that came through his establishment. Driven by the nosy curiosity of the voyeur he stepped under the rose bower and found some comfortable furs and a little stove of the type one might use to warm one's feet reading in a cold evening. Two things caught his eye - one a scrap of a burnt letter that had not been fully consumed in the little stove.
[09:45p] WaylandSmith The note or letter had been signed by none other than his friend Fury. The only legible part mentioned that she was to be keeping well away from Port Kar for the foreseeable future, intending to return only when needing supplies for her animals including a new pet. The other item was one of those strange cards he had seen the black caste handle at the inn. This one was titled 'The Lovers' - what an odd thing for a misanthrope like Slaver to have in his private space.
[09:47p] WaylandSmith For a moment he considered whether Fury and Slaver had some kind of secret assignation in that place but it seemed absurd - the old misanthrope and the fiery FW? Tarsk would fly more likely. Pocketing both items he exited the area suddenly uncomfortable despite the pleasant surroundings. After a few more trials the smith finally found the storage area he thought - it was stocked with a most bewildering array of items that could be used to trap, train, restrain, bond, tease, torture or shape the female.
[09:50p] WaylandSmith Slaver it seemed had either a vivid imagination or a completist approach to the tools needed for his trade - Wayland could scarcely conceive of the function of some of the items... He reckoned that Slaver's reputation for breaking any girl to the collar was well merited and that the former had shirked no investment to have the tools and means to achieve it. Scouting around he settled on a trap cage and a net that could be thrown - next he made his way over to the kitchen area.
[09:53p] WaylandSmith Though much of the food was spoiled he managed to find some sweetmeats used as treats for rewarding kajirae as well as some pastries that had been stored coolly. With that he set up a little cage trap in the main training hall, placing the net near the door. Next he lay a trail of sweet meats from the front door towards the main training hall leading tantalisingly to the cage.
[09:58p] WaylandSmith The net he hung over the entrance - the walls of the training hall were fitted with multiple rings for attaching the leashes of the women that fell into Slaver's hands. Now these served as a convenient way through which the smith could feed a thin silk rope whereby he could cause the net to fall.
[10:00p] WaylandSmith The thin rope to hand his trap was set. Sitting down on the little raised dais those on which countless kajirae had learned ways to display themselves and been taught to dance under the whip, he took a little break, munching on some of the pastries and drinking some water. The little jit was about - he had seen it observing him with the curiosity that was that creature's nature. It was too wily to approach whilst Wayland moved about but sure enough after about 15 ehn it poked its head around the door.
[10:03p] WaylandSmith feigning disinterest the smith pretended a deep and enduring fascination with some of the gaudy frescoes that decorated Slaver's training hall. He guessed that they would have served to whet the appetite of would be buyers but personally it seemed all a little too obvious to him. The jit meanwhile had tip-toed in and observed the trap cage with both interest and suspicion, the clever creature surmised that something was amiss - however there was also that pile of sweetmeats so enticingly close...
[10:07p] WaylandSmith His eyes resting on a fresco depicting rows of women chained in a coffle awaiting a branding the smith bided his time. In fact this particular depiction was more interesting than its rather crude set up might have led one to believe. The half a dozen women were driven from the rear by a slaver wielding a whip that curled round to kiss the behind of the hindmost lady. The foremost one had the slaver's branding iron thrust onto a thigh - looks of shock were written on both their faces.
[10:09p] WaylandSmith And yet the buttock at the rear seemed thrust up and out to receive the kiss of the whip and at the front the thigh was willingly set wide so the dina shaped iron could best place its mark. The parted lips, flushed chests and rigid nipples of both women, one still free for a few ihn more, also spoke of their excitement rather than their fear.
[10:09p]
WaylandSmith : CLAP
[10:10p] WaylandSmith Trap fell shut but the wily jit had escaped having used its tail to swipe some of the sweetmeats and now ran for the door frightened by the sound - this is what the smith had expected and with a firm pull the net fell right over the little creature entrapping it. Rising coolly from his little dais, the smith walked over to his prisoner - the animal hissed in frustration and anger - when it was picked up it attempted to bite the smith.
[10:11p]
WaylandSmith : Sush - that’s quite enough - now let’s see who you are and who you belong to.
[10:14p] WaylandSmith He half expected to find some silly rhyme on the beast's collar: If this jit should start to roam - box its ears and send it home. Instead it simply said: BUG. Terse and to the point but not helpful for Wayland. Removing a chain link leash that ended in a leather loop from his pocket he locked it onto the creature's collar before allowing it out of the net. Perhaps it would lead him to its owner?