[RogueLion]

(One week later...)

The cog, her belly slung low in the dark waters, slid quietly into the harbor. The weather was calm, the night air heavy with humidity. And dark; it was well after moonset and the helmsman was forced to pick his way carefully by sighting on the torches that sputtered along the quay.

Aside from a handful who had begun their celebrating too early, most of the crew was up despite the late hour. Eager for their first taste of Tortage, Mistress of Desires, they were gathered on the rail or at their stations, willing their eyes to pierce the haze that hung over the city – the Mistress’s heady perfume of torches, watch fires, lotus, incense, oils, spices, and the vast array of willing (and unwilling) flesh.

But they did so with barely an audible murmur or breathless whisper. Both their captain and his master were on deck to ensure their orders not to attract undue attention were followed. And if that wasn’t sufficient, there were three outspoken fools in the ship’s brig awaiting their turn before the main mast to convince them that the orders were serious. So they poked and punched and jostled each other like excited children, but they did so quietly. Save for the rum-infused night watchmen on the pier and a surly old Redhand Captain, none noted their entry into the harbor. As for the Captain, he merely watched and groaned quietly as the wench kneeling before him paid for her “security”.

Aboard Te‘Jjarho, Se’Te’Kaa caught his own slave's eye and gave her a suggestive smirk. This was beginning to look like a job he might actually enjoy.

[miaa]

*Khatt chased the flea up her arm and frowned. She hated it here. It was loud, dirty and filled with riff-raff and she had yet to see one pirate! She glanced over at her master and the strange woman he was speaking with and wondered how long they would be here...she hoped their stay would be short but feared her master had plans for this place.

"Khatt, go get us some wine!" He was frowning at her not a good sign and she jumped up to do his bidding.
The woman smirked at her then turn to her master. "your little trinket is not happy, I see."
"She will adjust. I fear I have spoiled her a little...but I have plans for her and she will soon earn her keep."

[RogueLion]

Elsewhere on the island, a nondescript hut squats in the jungle, its ramshackle back leaning against the face of a cliff. Inside, an older man sits on a rough cot, bent over a journal....

Entry 725: Today I will introduce the vessel to the Caves. She slept surprisingly well under the circumstances and this worries me. Perhaps I have misjudged her willfulness. We shall see. (Unintelligible scribble and a large ink blot) So much of this is guesswork!

Theoretical Requirements...................Vessel:
Good physical condition......................Somewhat undersized, but young
Attractive.......................................R easonably so (Note: Will require training as a pleasure slave to be most effective)
Intelligent....................................... Early indications are positive
Mental/psychological constitution........Unknown, but positive indications
Anonymity......................................Loc ally, yes. But wealthy family may present some difficulties for her use abroad.

So much to do, and I am so tired. I must obtain more herbs from Chukumbe’. This thrice-damned cough no longer abates except in the few hours I can sleep. I have half a mind to gut the fool and feed him to Sheyaza but they did work at first. Perhaps I merely require a stronger dosage. I will go to the ruins tomorrow and see him. Today we will play with our new toy.

[miaa]

Keti looks over at the old man coughing in the corner and wrinkles her nose in distaste.
"Stinking foul-breathed creature. When my father finds me I will have you flayed alive and your foul yellow skin nailed to the stable door."

But she just whispered this and making very sure her voice did not travel far enough for his ears. She still was surviving on sheer bravado which only slightly covered the small terrified girl hiding inside. She pulled hard once more on the rough chains holding her hands in front of her but they held fast. Already her wrists were bruised and bloody from the pulling. She should stop but for too long her will bent most things in her young life..but chains were not one of them.

"I will eat and drink and stay strong," she thought as her stomach churned at the remembrance of the horrid slop he had fed her.
"He will eventually relax his guard and then I will pounce." She heard him cough once again a deep hacking noise that set her teeth on edge. "Unless he dies first!" A small smile turning the corner of her mouth up at the thought.

Yawning, she carefully moves to adjust the thin rags covering her exposed flesh and curls up into the corner.
"I will pretend to sleep..yes pre..tend to slee........."
She was cold.
She was lonely.
She was afraid.

[miaa]

She screamed between her clenched teeth as he hoisted her up off the floor. Never had she felt such pain as the hot knife of fire slashed through her arms and shoulders. Her feet kicking wildly to find some purchase on the stone floor . Her own frantic breaths and sobs filled her ears. Somewhere deep, she was aware of an answering scream from inside the stone cavern. Then the soft welcoming mist of darkness descended over her.


She felt warmth on her body and sensed some movement. In pure defiance, she swung her body with all her force and lashed out with her feet. She heard a grunt then felt the blow fall and the last of her fight drained away as her bladder emptied and the hot acid stench of her shame filled the room.

She heard the scratch of his quill on the paper. Like a insect walking through her brain. What did he want? She realized now neither her pleas or her whimpers would move him. With her death his only loss would be the few silvers he paid for her. He did not see her as a living thing. She had no more meaning for him than a cup or a plate. If one broke he would buy another.
He was not doing this from passion.
There was no appeal.
There was only survival………

[RogueLion]

Ignoring the alien screams emanating from the dark passage to his right, Ghozra sat cross-legged on the stone floor, briefly massaging his forearm where he had blocked the subject’s kick. He mentally chastised himself, although not very severely; he was actually quite pleased with her behavior. He began to write...

Entry 726: Introduced Vessel to The Caves today and administered first physical test:

TEST...............Pain Threshold
CONDITIONS:....Open wounds from manacles on wrists; early signs of festering
PROCEDURE:......Used rope and pully to lift vessel by the chain connecting the manacles
RESULT:...........Screamed and lost consciousness almost immediately; regained short time later. SECONDARY: Woke Sheyaza (hunger screams ongoing while I write this – I will have to give it something now)

CONCLUSIONS:..Low pain threshold; quick recovery suggests strong will and recuperative powers. SECONDARY: Vessel attempted to strike out when I approached with the lantern. Vessel’s responses continue to display high levels of aggression, and I view this as a positive indication confirming my instincts about her.

He closed the journal with an audible snap, placed the stopper back in the small vial of ink, and carefully set the objects to one side. As he struggled to his feet, a rattling cough shook him and he took an extra minute to catch his breath before straightening.

The chilling screams intensified in frustration and he resigned himself to the fact that he would have to offer it something now. Slipping a small curved dagger from the back of his waistband, he approached the subject, noting with some dissatisfaction that she closed her eyes in resignation. He would need to amend his last entry somewhat.

With several deft strokes, he cut away the flimsy rags she was wearing, gathered them up, and shuffled towards the darkened tunnel at the back of the room. Without a backward glance or a word of explanation, he vanished down the passageway, and the screams rose still higher to greet him…..

[miaa]

Her eyes opened..or did they? Shivering, she blinked twice to be sure. Where am I? A rush of icy air swept across her bare flesh.

“Set, help me……..Father?” Gritting her teeth she willed her limps to move and their response sent waves of pain through her but she could move. Nothing was broken permanently……..yet.

She sniffed the air and her cheeks burned. She shuddered at the vile smell that arose from her body. A body that she was no longer in control off. She felt the cold rough stone at her back and shivered once more. She was thirsty. All she could taste was the brassiness of blood where it had caked in her mouth.
Her ears strained. She thought she could hear the faintest of breathing coming from afar.

This was a dream, a nightmare from which she will soon awake.

She reached down to pull the rough damp blanket up over her nakedness and slipped once more into her dark dream.

[RogueLion]

A hard shower pelted the top of the small hut, hissing and thrashing at the clay tiles overhead. Through the open doorway, he could see the path leading off into the jungle was already flooding as the nearby stream crested its low banks.

Soon the shower would pass, the sun would return, and the air would become thick and heavy again. The reliable rhythm of the tropical cycle on Tortage – the slow and steady breathing of the jungle – was one of the few things that brought him comfort. It was the island’s ritual, and rituals were very important to him.

He opened his journal to review his entry from the previous night, preparing himself mentally for the day’s work:

Entry 727: Sheyaza was not pleased with my meager offering and I was forced to discipline it. A small matter, but I cannot afford to waste my energies, and it is a clever thing. I have seen it mimicking some of the hand gestures of simple incantations I have performed in its presence before. I do not have a full understanding of the species yet, and therefore no idea what their capacity for arcane power is. It seems reasonable to assume that, given its origins, it at least has some.

Upon my return, I lowered the Vessel to the ground and attempted to treat her wounds: she would be useless if I was forced to amputate her arms because of infection. However I was careless and she attacked me by smashing the vial of salve on my face – she has some internal reserves of strength to be sure, and she is also clever. I take these to be very good signs, but by no means do I assume she possesses sufficient willpower to endure the Binding.

I have no wish to waste any time on an unworthy subject, so I am forced to take some chances I would not normally take. I will leave the rope behind, along with the medical bag, and will see in the morning which one she chooses.

[miaa]

Khatt was bored…and that was never a good thing. She had slipped out of the Inn while her Master was involved "none of your business, Khatt go find something to do" and was at that very moment practicing her “stalking” technique on the unsuspecting people of Tortage.

Her Master would be pleased..she smiled to herself. If she got very good maybe he would give her something important to do.

It was the old man’s cough that had attracted her first. She noticed him shuffling through the man street toward the edge of the jungle and she quickly decided he would be her target. He would be her prey.

Shadow to shadow she darted and she carefully followed him not making a sound (so she thought) until she saw him stop at a small hut by the edge of a cliff. She paused. Should she follow or turn back? Her curiosity, not for the first time got the better of her.

What an odd little hut in the middle of nowhere? Perhaps, my Master would find this interesting, she thought to herself as she crept closer. Her ears straining to isolate his movements from the jungle sounds that surrounded her.

She had lost sight of him. He must have gone into the hut and was just turning to head back the way she came when a hard tug on her hair that wrenched her back off her feet and on to the ground.


Oh Oh……he is much stronger than he looks and this.... is.. not.... good!

[RogueLion]

He pulled back hard on the girl's hair while kicking out at the back of her leg. As she fell, he fell to one knee beside her, leaning forward to drive her face into the soft loam of the jungle floor.

"What are you doing here, beetch?" he spat.

"Let go of me! I don't belong to you!". She struggled beneath him, twisting and thrashing with surprising strength. She managed to roll sideways and he was forced to throw himself across her back to pin her down. He leaned hard, using all of his body weight to hold her, but the position was awkward and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold her this way for long, especially if-

A cough rattled his chest and he shoved her head into the ground again.

"Why are you followeeng me?!"

"I w- I was just going for a walk - I didn't do anything! Get OFF me you smelly old man!" She began to roll and twist again, lithe as a serpent, and although he was much stronger, his deteriorating health sapped his stamina and reduced him to short bursts of activity.

Biting back another cough, he reached behind his back and drew a bone-handled dagger with a curved bronze blade - a gift he had received from a shaman of the Longfangs tribe - and pressed it to her throat. Her body instantly went limp beneath him.

"Now, tell me what you are doing here....WHY are you following me?"

"I was practising." She answered, fear adding a slight tremor to her voice.

"Practicing? What do you mean?"

"I follow people, soldiers, townsfolk, practicing for when my mast-"

For the first time he noticed the collar around her neck. "Master? Who is your master?"

"He is going to be very angry and you are in big trouble." The fear was gone, replaced by petulance and a fierce pride.

Ghozra pressed the tip of his dagger hard enough to draw blood and she yelped. "Perhaps I should just feed you to my pet" he growled menacingly.

"Se'te'kaa! His name is Se'te'kaa and he is very powerful!"

He eased off the dagger somewhat in surprise.

"The merchant?"

He had been in Tortage making arrangements to receive his research subject when the man's trading vessel had slipped quietly into the harbor. Later that week while purchasing supplies at the tradepost, he had overheard the trader discussing the merchant's arrival with another customer who was marveling over some rare Stygian silks he had apparently obtained earlier from the newcomer. What cemented the memory was the Trader's conspiratorial tone as he glanced around nervously before telling his customer that there were rumors that this Se'te'kaa and his men were behind some foul business near the Temple's wine cellars. Apparently the bodies of several well-known thugs were found hanging by their feet in the cellar, their throats slashed and bodies completely drained of blood.

"Yes! And he is going to kill you if you don't let me go you...you smelly old man!!"

"Silence! I must think..." He pressed on the dagger again. This was a problem. Any attention would jeopardize his research and he was so close to attempting the Binding. The Vessel had shown significant promise early on and he was eager to continue her trials, but if this merchant or his men came sniffing around looking for his missing slave, particularly if the rumors of his methods were true...

He was suddenly aware of her scent - a heady perfume laced with a vaguely familiar odor...vanilla perhaps? And her hair was soft in his hand, clean and lustrous. She was clearly more than just a house slave.

"What are your duties?" he hissed, but his words trailed off into another brief series of coughs.

"Whatever my master asks of me, but mostly I pleasure him. Let...me...go!" She began to struggle again and he could feel his strength waning, and with it, his patience. But if she was his pleasure slave, he was much more likely to come look-

The slave suddenly hissed and bared her teeth; the transformation from petulant girl to something almost animal caught Ghozra by surprise and he drew back in alarm. She seized the opportunity and struck, sinking her teeth into his forearm. His grunted in pain and dropped his dagger, lurching sideways while trying to pull his arm free. As he shifted, her arm came free and she clawed at his face, her nails digging in and dragging deep furrows through his flesh.

He cursed and fell back away from her and she scrambled to her feet, snatching up his dagger and whirling to face him. She crouched as though ready to pounce, the dagger held before her, her face a ferocious mask, blood on her lips and chin - his blood, he realized.

Then, just as suddenly, the ferocity melted away into panic, and the girl turned and fled back up the trail leading to town. Ghozra gave chase, but after only a few steps his body betrayed him; a wracking fit of coughing drove him to his knees again and it was several moments before he caught his breath.

She was gone, and he had no illusions about what would happen next: they would come looking for him. He staggered to his feet and headed for his hut and the caves, taking what small comfort he could from the knowledge that he had planned ahead for something like this. He wasted no time on thoughts of vengeance; the research was everything.

If he was successful, there would be plenty of time to settle with those who had wronged him. After all, the Hybrid would need to hunt.