ItIsJustMe

Time traveling assassin RP needs writer, M or F doesn't matter

What would you say if a beautiful woman walked up to you, told you she was from the future, and said you were the key to preventing the death of billions due to a pandemic to which Covid-19 couldn't compare.

Let's find out.

You are a government analyst with the FBI, NSA, CIA, whatever; make it the PTA if it gives you access to highly classified government documents. The scenario described above occurs, and while I'm certain you won't believe it at first, you will soon enough.

Before you know it, you are engaged in a life or death mission to prevent the apocalypse; you're being chased by kill squads from the government, your government, as well as others; and -- if you wish to take it this direction -- are falling first in lust with and possibly in love with this stranger from a future time.

I'm looking for a conscientious writer who proofreads and will post 10+ replies a week; I don't care if replies are sometimes only a couple of sentences long, only that they move the story forward.

"To Wear the Throne"

(OOC: I didn't realize until now how difficult it was to read the blue dialogue on a cell phone. If the orange doesn't work, PM me about it.)

"I can clean myself," Kengetar grunted. "I'm not a baby."

Melody smiled once more to the man. She nodded her head to him in the same vein of respect that he'd seen her Captain do for her: "Of course. Please, forgive me, Kengetar."

She waved the women off, speaking again to them in the Old Language of her own people; she gave each of them a new task to which they hurried off to complete.

Melody continued to watch the man bathe himself, unable to prevent herself from occasionally taking in the impressive view offered at the meeting of his thighs. She would be a liar if she said she hadn't contemplated taking Kengetar directly from the bathtub to her bed.

But Melody had plans for the barbarian that went far beyond her own sexual fantasies. Kengetar was her ticket to achieving an act of vengeance that had haunted her the entirety of her life.

"There," he said when he had finished. "What now?"

After a gesture from her Lady, the young slave, Frandy, hurried up to Kengetar to offer him a towel to dry and/or wrap himself. She lowered her eyes as a servant would to a Master, seemingly out of respect; in truth, the not-shy and also-no-longer-pure servant was only trying to sneak a final peek at Kengetar's swinging manhood before it was put away for the day. 

"Largohu tani,," Melody chastised the too-bold-for-her-own-good slave. "Ushqim, tani!"

Frandy backed away from Kengatar to leave the tent and retrieve food as ordered, once again in the Old Language. She couldn't help but look up to make eye contact with the man -- and give him a flirtatious smile, unseen by her Lady -- before she hurried out of the tent.

"What now?" Melody repeated, returning to the Common Tongue. "Now, we talk. But first..."

By now, Haayna had returned with a blanket which was now pulled up at the corners and bound into a large ball shape, held together with a leather thong tie. The older slave had set the bundle on the carpeted floor of the lavish tent and now pulled loose the thong; an array of relatively clean clothes pillaged from the now destroyed village spilled out.

"First, you dress," Melody suggested as she turned to watch Frandy and yet a third slave girl bring in a large platter of meat, vegetables, and roots that were still steaming from having just come off the open pit fire just outside the tent. Melody turned to sit on a padded stool near the table on which the new food joined with fruits, berries, and drinks earlier provided. She told Kengetar, "Then, we eat ... and talk about the future."

"To Wear the Throne"

Melody smiled in humor at the barbarian's version of bathing, chucking softly when some of the water he was wrecklessly splashing about found its way onto her robe. He was coming clean to a degree, but on only a portion of his body. Melody knew he wouldn't get it done to the level she required this way.

She moved to the tent's door flap, calling for Haanya and a second servant, Frandy.  She spoke to them in the Old Language, after which -- without hesitation -- they gathered up some soft, plush rags and moved to the barbarian to bathe him.

They didn't know if he would allow them to help, but if he did, they would get to work with the rags and their Lady's soap. This was not new to the pair, as they'd performed this duty for other guests of their Lady in the past.  They would leave the barbarian squeaky clean, even below his belt line which, of course, was now imaginary with Kengetar standing there naked.

Melody didn't know much about the Sedent culture, but she thought she'd once heard something about bathing being a communal activity; she'd never heard about the natural body of water aspect of it though, asking, "Would you be more comfortable if I brought in some others...?

Then, unsure whether communal meant multigender, she added, "... some of the women perhaps?"

"The Long Road Home" (closed)

"The Long Road Home"

(Closed to ItIsJustMe and Princess Peril)

PLEASE READ THIS ON YOUR FIRST VISIT

I have created 2 roleplays (at least) based upon this same "Universe". Although they each begin with this same map, political situation, and historical background, the role plays will diverge quickly due to the actions of and personal backgrounds of the main characters of each story.

Our story's map:

Link

A Clarification

• I did not create this map. I "borrowed" it from the internet.
• Originally, the black triangles represented mountain peaks. In our story, they represent towns.
• The yellow terrain surrounding these towns (black triangles) originally designated highlands. In our story, they simply represent areas of higher human development (ranches, farms, and mines).

Legend (Colored Symbols)

• Stars: capitals of the 4 similarly colored sovereign nations (white, blue, red, green).
• Dots: other cities of the similarly colored nation.
• Triangles: towns (unnamed on the map) which are generally but not always ruled by the nearest capital city.
• Grey circle (Un, on the Island of Tella-Un): a religious site holy to all nations; the world's only active volcano.

The Sovereign Nations:

Republic of Yalla

General Information

• Southernmost of the sovereign lands.
• It was once the greatest and most powerful nation. Now, however:
  
  
  
  • It has the smallest population: ~25,000.
  • It has the least wealth in resources.
  • It has the smallest treasury.
  • It has the smallest armed forces, with only 200 cavalry, 1,000 skilled warriors, 2,000 potential conscripts, and 200 sailors/marines on 5 warships.

Government

• It is ruled by a Prime Minister, who is selected by a Council of Nobles. He also serves as Lord Mayor of the capital city, Yalla.
• Each of the Nobles rules his (or rarely her) city or town as a Feudal Lord.
• Historically, the Prime Minister had great power, including the right to insist that the Nobles support his war declarations with armed forces, resources, and coin. This is no longer true; the Nobles now do essentially what they like.

Cities and Territories Controlled By Yalla

• Capital: Yalla (pop. 5,000)
• Marcan (pop. 4,000) on the Island of Tella-Un.
• Sutla (pop. 3,000) on the Island of Sufi in the inland Sea of Yalla.
• Savat (pop. 2,000) on the island of Sevu in the inland Sea of Vint.
• Rlawell and Abad (pops. 1,000 each) in the southern reaches of the Fenwater.
• 4 towns (black triangles; pops. 200-600) to the southwest of the Capital City.
• Dozens of small-to-medium sized villages (pops. 50-200).
• Note: Yalla does not have control over the waters surrounding its island cities. The inner seas are almost exclusively controlled by the usually friendly Vint.
• See next hider for list of towns lost by Yalla to other nations.

Cities and Territories Lost By Yalla

• Tiala (pop. 3,000): given over to the Kingdom of Vint in lieu of debts owed 20 years BRP (before role play).
• Tut (pop. 3,000): seized by force by the Frenkish Empire 10 years BRP.
• 5 of the 9 towns (black triangles) it formerly controlled.
  
  Explanation

  
  
  • 1 town north of Tut, captured by the Frenkish Empire 10 BRP.
  • 2 towns in the Salfar Mountains, lost to Barbarians. (They still exist but are shadows of their former selves.)
  • 1 town on far side of the Kokalla River, which joined the Meretheni Federation 2 years BRP.
  • The coastal villages and coastal waters from the mouth of the Kokalla River to the Eastern Blight.
    
    Explanation

    
    
    • The navies of the Republic of Yalla and the Frenkish Empire battled in the Eastern Blight during the war over Tut.
    • Yalla's navy was utterly destroyed.
    • The Eastern Blight became Frenkish Empire Territory.
    • The Dead Coast (named such because no long term communities have ever survived there) is now patrolled by the Kingdom of Vint's navy (to keep the Frenkish navy in the north).

Meretheni Federation

General Information

• It is the westernmost and largest of the sovereign lands, stretching from Frost Bay in the north to the mouth of the Kokalla River in the south.
• It has the greatest population, currently at over 100,000 and growing 10% year after year.
• It is simultaneously rich and poor:
  
  
  
  • It has the greatest per capita wealth, the lowest level of poverty, and -- at nearly 25% -- the highest literacy rate of all the sovereign nations.
  • However, it has a modest treasury due to the generosity of its Ruling Class to its Middle and Under Classes.
  • Its arable lands make it the most agriculturally productive of the sovereign nations; it exports half of what it grows each year.
  • It lacks ores and minerals, however, importing them primarily from the Frenkish Empire.

Military

• Its standing army is the second largest after that of the Frenkish Empire.
• It's available conscription army (2 years compulsory service, age 16-18) is the largest, however, with more fully trained warriors than the other sovereign nations combined.
• It has the second largest navy after that of Vint.
• During times of peace, the standing army is engaged in civil works projects while the navy supplements the merchant and fishing fleets in their work.

Government

It is the most democratic of the sovereign states with a Bicameral Council of Elected Ministers:

The House of the People

• Each population center (cities, towns, villages) elects 1 Minister for each of its 500 residents (free men, women, and children).
• Villages and towns with less than 500 residents must combine their populations for the purpose of elections.
• The House of the People meets 2 times a year (just prior to the planting season and just after the main harvest) to discuss and vote on issues brought before it by its Ministers.
• Motions passed by the supermajority of 60% are forwarded to the House of the Lords.
• While all free men, women, and children are included in the census population, only free males who are property owners or registered with the Army/Navy as active personnel, veterans of war, or willing and trained conscripts can vote.

The House of the Lords

• Each Nobleman or Noblewoman is also a Minister to the House of Lords.
• The House of the Lords meets one fortnight after the House of the People concludes its own work.
• It discusses and votes on Motions sent to it from that lower House.
• Motions that are passed take effect as determined within the motion's text.
• Motions that fail are returned to a Resolution Committee of Ministers of the House of the People.
• These Committee Ministers are chosen by their House's membership to stay behind while the majority of the men return to their individual communities to return to their work.
• If 80% of the Committee Ministers vote to override the Motion declined by the House of Lords, the Motion becomes law.
• Becoming a Noble is a matter of inheriting the role or being elevated from the masses by the House of Lords itself, a process which doesn't happen often; it happens even less often for Ladies.

Cities and other territory

• Nation's population: 100,000 and growing 10% annually.
• Capital: Forthala (pop. 20,000)
• Lotha (pop. 12,000), Kinth (pop. 11,000), Morbeth (pop. 9,000), Tothan (pop. 7,000), and Lux (pop. 6,000).
• Eight towns (black triangles; pops. 400-1000), including the town northwest of the mouth of the Kokalla River, which defected from the Republic of Yalla.
• And more than 150 small villages (fishing villages on the coast, farming villages on The Great Steppe, and logging villages in the forests) ranging from (pops. 50-400); these are not indicated on the map.
• Coastline and coastal waters: from the mouth of the Kokalla River in the south to the Frost Bay in the north.

The Kingdom of Vint

General Information

It is the central most of the 4 nations and extends from the extreme north to the extreme south, including control over:

• The northern mainland territories between the Meretheni Federation and the Frenkish Empire.
• Nearly the entirety of the inner seas; reasons discussed further below.
• The Sacred Island of Tella-Un (with the exception of the Yallan City of Marcan).
• The City of Tiala (formerly a possession of the Republic of Yalla) on the shore of the Long Sea.
• The Land Corridor of the Kokalla River, between the inner and outer seas.
• As well as various ports on the southern and northern shores of the outer seas.
• It should be noted that Vint enforces a Policy of Cooperation regarding the Kokalla River:
  
  
  
  • The Meretheni Federation and the Republic of Yalla -- both considered friends of Vint -- have relatively free (but taxed) merchant vessel access to the river, to the ports at its ends, and to the villages along the route.
  • No military vessels from these two nations are allowed on the river without a Vint escort. Weapons are typically collected from these vessels prior to entering the river and returned once the vessels have completed their transit, though, this demand is sometimes waved.
  • Merchant vessels from the Frenkish Empire -- not a friend of Vint -- must have both an Vint warship escort and Vint marines aboard each vessel.
  • Frenkish warships are not permitted passage through the Kokalla River.

Population and Class Structure

• It has the second greatest population of the four sovereign nations, currently at over XX,XXX.
• It is a nation of the very rich and very poor:
  
  
  
  • Its Royal Family is by far the wealthiest family in the history of the world.
  • It has a great number of very rich Nobles who are loyal to the King.
  • It also has a large and poor peasantry, as well as the largest slave class of the four sovereign nations.
• Literacy is considered a right and privilege of the rich and powerful. Lower class people who demonstrate literacy often simply disappear, never to be seen again.

Economy

• Its arable lands are very fertile, but there aren't enough acres to feed the population, therefore Vint imports from the Meretheni Federations.
• It once produced enough ore to satisfy its needs, but:
  
  
  
  • The Frenkish Empire seized control of most of its mining territories in the the northeast.
  • To fulfill their need, Vint seized control of the Holy Island of Tella-Un, on which there are many ore mines.
  • This wasn't popular with the other sovereign nations, but there really wasn't anyone to stop them.

Military and Merchant Force

• Its standing and standby (conscription) military are modest but suitable to protect their border with the Frenkish Empire, it's only current enemy.
• Its true military power lies in its navy:
  
  Explanation

  
  
  • Decades ago, Vint ship builders designed warships, transports, and merchant vessels that were faster, more solidly built, and more heavily armed than anything ever built.
  • They used their navy (supported by their army) to seize control of ports all about the inner seas, making it nearly impossible for the other nations to conduct business over the seas without paying for the privilege.
  • They seized the Land Corridor of the Kokally River for some time before coming to an agreement with the Meretheni Federation and the Republic of Yalla for it to be a cooperatively shared Corridor.
  • Their navy now patrols the southeastern Dead Coast to keep the Frenkish Empire's navy away from it.

Government

• It is a dictatorial monarchy, headed by a King.
• The King designates trusted and loyal Nobles to rule over Regions, Cities, Towns, mines, ports, etc.
• He keeps them in line with the carrot (wealth and power) and the stick (threats of beheading should they betray him).

Cities and Territory

• Population over XX,XXX.
• Capital: Vint (pop. 25,000)
• Virta (pop. 18,000)
• Suva (pop. 9,000) and Ketch (pop. 8,000) on the Island of Tella-Un.
• Tiala (pop. 7,000) in Republic of Yalla territory, taken in lieu of a massive debt.
• 4 towns (black triangles; pops. 400-1000) in the north, two of them in constant fear of being invaded by Frenkish forces.
• As many as 150 small villages throughout its territories (pops. 50-400) that are not indicated on the map.

The Frenkish Empire

General Information

• Found in the northeast of the world, it is the 3rd largest by size and population both.
• Its extends from the city of Sipriot in its northwest (which it seized from Virt 8 years BRP) to the city of Tut in its south (which it seized from Yalla 10 years BRP) and includes all the land and islands to the east and north of those two cities.
• Although it has shoreline on the inner seas (the Small Sea and the Long Sea), it has no settlements on those shores; the Kingdom of Vint prevents this, as well as preventing the construction and/or deployment of vessels here.

Government

• Emperor Frenk the Hearty is an absolute monarch and harsh dictator.
• The Noble Class is made up almost entirely of the Emperor's Consorts -- who are many -- and his 100+ children, some of whom are land-controlling Nobles despite barely being into double digit ages -- the descendants, not the Consorts.
• These Nobles rule over Regions, Cities, Towns, mines, ports, etc., but no single Noble controls enough population or wealth to have the ability to become a rebellious threat to the Emperor.
• The Emperor tours the Empire almost constantly, spending a few days in each location to review its current situations, collect the harsh taxes, and roll about in the ruling Consort's bed before moving on to the next location and bed.
• He replaces Consorts often, either for failing to rule as he sees fit or for failing to please him in bed as he demands.
• During the Emperor's absence, Consorts are escorted by bodyguards at all hours of the day to ensure they do not invite other men into their beds; these bodyguards are generally large, ugly, eunuchs who -- despite having given up their balls -- who are very well paid to do the Emperor's bidding.
  
  More on Consorts

  Consorts are, however, permitted to have female lovers. These lovers must also make themselves available to the Emperor on his visits. Often, if he appreciates the services of a Consort's lover, the Emperor replaces the former with the latter. Because of this, Consorts tend to keep their female lovers' identities secret. However, the Bodyguards rarely miss this, and Consorts who hide such information are often quickly replaced, sometimes by their lovers.
• Rule over the Nobles and general population alike is typically via the stick and seldom the carrot.
• Nobles, whether Consort or otherwise:
  
  
  
  • Are permitted limited governance over their cities and towns. The Emperor has final say over any and all issues.
  • Are heavily taxed, specifically to prevent them currying favor with others via coin, particularly military forces which might attempt to overthrow the Emperor.
  • Are monitored closely by spies and guards who report directly to the Emperor.
  • Are, if not a Consort, chosen spouses by the Emperor himself, often from his own line of Consorts. This is done to prevent the formation of potentially threatening alliances between Noble families.

Military and Merchant Fleet

• Its standing army is the largest of the sovereign nations.
• Its standby (conscription) military is large but undertrained.
• Its navy is the 2nd largest by number of ships and available sailors and marines, but the vessels are old and poor in quality.
• To prevent Nobles from easily raising rebellious forces, conscripts and volunteers alike are not allowed to serve directly under the Nobles from their homelands; they are relocated to distant locations where they are trained and commanded by Officers not of their own homelands, Officers who are loyal directly to the Emperor

Economy

• Its arable lands are very fertile, but with the majority of the harvests diverted to the army (as taxes paid by Nobles to the Emperor), the peasantry is often on the verge of starvation or already deep into famine.
• The Emperor will, however, sometimes purchase vast quantities of food from the Meretheni Federation to prevent famine.
• It's fisheries and seal and whale hunting industries are very valuable.

Cities and Territory

• Population over ~80,000.
• Capital: Ras Rufna (pop. 22,000), which was a Kingdom of Vint city until Emperor Frenk seized it 25 years BRP.
• LentFrenk (pop. 15,000), the empire's birth place.
• Nurva (pop. 8,000)
• Bind (pop. 6,000)
• Sipriot (pop. 5,000), formerly a Kingdom of Vint city.
• Tut (pop. 4,000), formerly a Republic of Yalla city.
• 12 towns (black triangles; pops. 400-1000).
• As many as 200 small villages (many of them little more than military outposts) throughout its territories (pops. 50-300) that are not indicated on the map.

"To Wear the Throne"

Deleted post

"The Long Road Home" (closed)

Melody had spent almost two hours supervising both the pillaging of the village and the distribution of the spoils. Her people were well disciplined and without even the slightest thought about filching for themselves a single coin, cloak, candlestick, and chamber pot delivered everything they collected to the space below a hastily erected, open sided tent.

There, Melody's Thesartar -- at Court they would call him the treasurer -- went to work. He collected all of the coins and dropped them in Melody's chest. She typically kept about half of this loot for the Clan's treasury, disbursing the rest of it to the Officers and warriors as appropriate for their service and loyalty to her.

After that, the Thesartar -- under Melody's direction -- separated off other items of value for his Lady's personal use or future gift giving: clothing, art, intricately crafted weapons or jewelry. Once the Clan's leader had what she wanted, the remaining pile of pillage was open to perusing by the Officers; then by the Common Warriors; and then finally by the other men, women, and children of the Clan.

Melody had long left before the feeding frenzy had begun, leading a half dozen men with their hands full of her spoils up to her tent. Inside, they piled the goods in one corner of the square tent before departing. It was only now when Melody recalled that she had requested the presence of one of the female captives. The Guard who had been keeping an eye on the woman hit Aea's upper arm with the flat side of his short sword, then nodded her attention toward his Mistress.

Melody began stripping away some of what she wore -- gloves, weapons belt, cloak, and leather armor -- as she walked a slow circle around the woman and gave her a good once over viewing. Aea was taller than she was herself, something Melody hadn't been able to notice when the girl was sitting in the mud.

"Is it ready?" Melody asked one of the other slaves, a woman twice her age named Haanya. Melody nodded her head toward the bath, clarifying her inquiry, "Is it warm enough yet?"

"Nearly," the older woman said, hurrying over to the new slave and urging her back to her duties. "Just a few more pitchers of hot water, m'lady."

Melody continued undressing, shedding her woolen tunic; it was covered in soot from the conflagration, sending up a gray-black cloud as she pulled it loose. Underneath she wore a satin shift, but -- with Haanya helping with the buttons -- it came off as well. Melody was suddenly standing before the captured villager in only her boots and the socks hidden within them. She showed no concern that she was naked before the stranger, sitting on a stool to have the servant strip her feet until they were as bare as the rest of her.

She tested the warmth of the tub, told Haanya it needed more heat, and stepped into it. Melody sank down until the water was just reaching the lower curvatures of her young, firm, pert breasts. She splashed some water on her bosom, wiping away some of the soot that had gotten into her wardrobe.

"What do you call yourself?" she asked the new slave. She waited for an answer, then asked, "The little girl who was cuddling up close to you in the mud ... she is family?" Melody didn't know if the young woman would answer that question, but if the answer was yes, she would call to the guard outside the tent to fetch the girl and bring her here. In the meantime, Melody explained the young woman's new situation: "You are to be one of my Shërbëtorë të dhomës së krevatit. Do you know what that means...? Do you speak the Old Language? It means ... Haanya, how would you translate--"

"You will serve your Lady's personal needs," the older servant said, "laundering her clothing, building her fire, fetching her water, serving her food and drink, emptying her Enë dhome ... her chamber pot."

It was easier Haanya thought to explain the duties than it was to translate the words in a literal sense. As she'd been talking, she'd moved to grasp the girl and move her around to behind Melody's head. Gesturing to the multitude of braids in her Lady's hair, she instructed, "Loose these, and be gentle ... do not pull her hair. Go, go. Get started."

Melody leaned back into the tub to make her head more easily reachable.

"To Wear the Throne"

"What game is this?" the barbarian spat. He spoke of the utter defeat of his people and questioned Melody's intentions. "Why do you not speak to our chieftain or our master of the hunt, or their sons if they are already slain?"

Melody couldn't know whether or not the men of whom he spoke were dead. Knowing how few men had survived, though, told Melody that they likely had perished. That didn't matter, though; Melody had no interest in speaking with any of the men.

"That little girl," she began as she turned to retrieve more hot water from the large pot over the fire. "I told her that she had something that was important to me: leverage."

She carried the steaming pitcher to the tub and dumped it, turning to refill it again. "You have something important to me as well."

Melody conspicuously glanced down to the barbarian's still dangling manhood, then back up to his eyes. She smiled, then chuckled. She said only, "No."

Dumping more water into the tub and checking the temperature with her fingertips, Melody explained in a very calm, matter-of-fact tone, "I have someone I want you to kill for me, someone to whom I do not have access. A woman. A woman--" Again Melody glanced to his groin before looking up again and adding, "--who likes men like you."

She turned for yet one more pitcher to warm the tub as she continued, "I will take you and your people to the Capital City ... to the slave market. There, I will ensure that this woman finds you on the sale block ... ensure that she buys you. Once you are alone with her, you will slit her throat ... you will cut out her heart and bring it to me."

More water spilled into the tub, and Melody promised, "And in exchange, your tribe will be sold as a single block to a Master who I know will keep them together ... will keep them safe and healthy ... until you can buy them back with the money that you will earn while in my service."

Melody looked to the tub again, gestured him toward it, and said, "Please. I need you bathed and clean so that I can judge with certainty that you are the man for this mission. Or ... you could go ahead and kill me now, after which Kapiten Broon will kill you and what remains of your tribe. The choice is yours. Oh, and please ... what is your name?"

"To Wear the Throne"

Melody couldn't prevent a smile from spreading her lips at the barbarian's gesture to the little girl, instructing her to hide her eyes as he prepared to bare his all to his captor. She couldn't help but wonder whether he did so because he was lacking and feared the girl might point and giggle ... or was hung like a stallion, which would haunt the girl once she'd reached womanhood, leaving her wondering why her future husband was instead the one who was lacking.

In truth, once the new slave had shed his minimal amount of remaining clothing and was standing before her naked, Melody found herself fairly impressed. She mused, "Your father should be proud to have passed on such a mighty sword."

The man was conspicuously diverting his eyes from Melody. She understood this, of course; he could hate her for what she and her warriors had done to his village and people all he wanted, but nature would not prevent his body from reacting if he was to look upon her as she was.

Melody gestured to one of the slaves to bring her a robe. Before the girl reached her, though, Melody was already rising from the tub; a rivulet of water streamed down her body, washing downward over her womanly curves. Would the barbarian slave lift his eyes to take in the sight? Would he see that -- like the women of the Noble Class -- Melody's body was free of hairs below her neck, carefully shaved from her flesh by the girl now delivering the robe? Would he catch sight of the Snake Dragon tattoo -- the Holy Symbol of the Faithful of Tella-Un -- that began as a thrice forked tail just above her right ankle, encircled that leg twice as it climbed upwards, then cut across her belly to wrap around her torso and finally cease as a magnificently detailed and somewhat frightening, fang-bearing head just below her sternum?

She wouldn't know whether or not Kengetar glanced at her as she herself had turned her attention to the slave girl giving her a hand out of the tub. They worked to drape the silk gown over her still wet body, then tie it at the waist. When she turned back to the man, the thin cloth did very little to hide the shape of her bosom.

"Kapiten Broon," she said as she eyed the naked slave from head to foot and back up again. When the man acknowledged her, Melody gestured him to pull the knife from his hostage's throat. The little girl opened one eye, then the other; she glanced toward the man standing naked in the middle of the tent but then turned her attention firmly to the woman in the colorful and -- because of her wet skin -- body-clinging gown. Melody said in a tender voice, "Come to me sweetheart. It's okay, no one is going to hurt you."

Broon's expression conspicuously relayed to Melody his discomfort with releasing hold of his insurance that the barbarian wasn't going to do anything ... rash. But Melody gestured the knife from the girl's neck, took up the platter of food, and moved closer to the pair. She leaned in, held the platter of treats out, and asked, "Are you hungry, sweetheart? It's okay. You can take one. You are not in trouble ... and no one is going to hurt you. I promise."

The girl was hesitant but finally reached out to take a chunk of cheese. She didn't immediately put it into her mouth, but when she finally did her face lit up with delight. Melody explained, "They call it Djathë i ëmbël ... sweet cheese. Would you like more?"

Again hesitant, the girl nodded and reached out -- this time with both hands -- to snatch up four or five pieces in each eager set of fingers. Melody laughed, warning her, "Don't put so many into your mouth that you choke, sweetheart."

The girl stuffed two more pieces into her chomping mouth, glanced toward her Tribesman, then back to Melody. The Lady of Clan Yalla reassured her, "Nothing is going to happen to him either, sweetheart. He has something of great value that makes him important to me ... just like you do. Do you know what it is that you have that makes you important to me?"

The little girl shook her head, and Melody rose to height again. She handed the platter to her Tent Slave, then walked over to stand before the Sedent male, easily within his reach, easy pickings if he were to decide to reach out, grasp her by the neck, and snap it with what Melody could see were strong, capable hands.

"Leverage," she said, looking into the man's eyes. She looked to the girl again, asking with a sweet voice, "Do you know what leverage it, sweetheart?" Again the girl shook her head; her lower jaw was moving up and down as she chomped on yet another piece of cheese. Melody looked back to her new slave again, explaining, "It's something I have that assures me that your friend here will do as I ask."

She hesitated a moment, then in a soft voice meant just for him, Melody said in a reassuring voice, "All of your people ... the survivors I mean ... they will be well cared for ... feed well ... giving shelter ... protected from harm. Your men will not be executed simply because they are men. Your women will not be raped simply because they are women. I can make you this promise because my men are faithful to me and will do as I say, without question."

Melody backed just a bit, let her eyes fall to take in the Sedent's manhood again, then began an unhurried walk around him as she continued: "We are traveling to the Capital City--" She meant the Capital of Yalla, of course, and didn't feel a need to actually explain that. "--where I would normally sell the lot of your people into slavery. Customarily, they would be sold to a multitude of buyers who would then take them to far distant lands. Your tribe would be no more. It would cease to exist. An abandoned campfire; ashes and smoke into the wind."

Behind the man now, Melody took in the view of his muscular and equally scarred backside as well. The barbarian had seen a great deal of violence in his life, as had she. Perhaps I will have a chance to hear your stories...? She continued her slow stroll: "However ... I will make you a promise. Serve me without question ... show me loyalty ... let this little ... unfortunate incident that has happened between our peoples here today be forgotten ... and I will keep your people together. Your tribe will be preserved."

By now she was once again in front of the barbarian, once again vulnerable to his attack should he choose to make it. She looked him in the eyes, then looked to the little girl. Smiling sweetly, Melody told the slave, "Take food to the Sedents. Let them eat and drink. Do not be stingy. Feed them until their bellies are full." To Broon she said, "Have the Brown Tent erected and move the Sedents to it for shelter. Find them blankets and let them build a fire."

"I'll put a man on it, m'lady," the Captain said, looking to the door and preparing to call for a guard.

But Melody cut him off, saying, "You do it, Kapiten." Broon gave Melody a concerned look, but she waved him off, looking back to the new slave again as she said, "I think I'm safe here, Kapiten. At least ... for the moment. I don't think our new friend is in a hurry to kill me. I think he might want to eat and drink first. Then he can break my neck or cut out my entrails."

Broon wasn't eager to leave his Lady alone with the barbarian, but he knew better than to disobey her. Reluctantly, he gestured the little girl and -- after Melody asked to be left alone -- the Tent Slaves to follow him. A moment later, there were only the two of them left. Melody stepped back, putting some space between them, make a conspicuous sniffing sound as she looked at his body, and smiled.

"You should bathe," she said softly, not meaning to imply that he stunk to high heaven or anything like that. Melody swept a hand toward the bathtub, saying, "If you don't mind that I used it before you..."

She didn't know what he might do now that they were alone: would he take the sure opportunity to snap her neck like a twig; would he grasp her and take her hostage, as she and her warriors had his people; would he bend her over her clothing trunk and rape her to death as was done to so many female hostages following bloody battles; or -- as Melody hoped -- would he take the opportunity to slip into the tub of still-warm water and shed his flesh and hair of the blood, dirt, and grime?

"Lost In Time: 10,000 B.C.E."

(Note: This post includes an image of a scantily clad woman. It's not pornography so relax. The post does not include erotica. Oh, and if you open the link to the picture, keep in mind that it is out of context; there are no pickup trucks in our story.)

22 November 2021
Day 8:

As the sun rose and began pushing the darkness out of the forest, Harry Timms was sitting atop a large rock overlooking the stream, just upstream from the pond. He'd just come off the third watch ... after having stood the second and first watches before that as well. His eyes were heavy as he listened to the gentle splashing of the babbling brook, and if he hadn't had a reason for being here on a day when no one from his camp should have been, he could have very easily laid back in the grass at the huge rock's base and gone to sleep.

But his reason for being here at this time on this day soon presented herself, and present herself she did. Victoria Parcell arrived at the stream's edge some fifty feet or so upstream from Harry, seemingly unaware of his presence. She was dressed against the chill of the early November morning in a stocking cap, long heavy coat, and winter boots. Harry was no fashionista, but even he could see that the outfit was a makeshift one; Victoria, like many of the survivors, were making do with whatever cold weather clothing they or those who hadn't survived had packed for the flight from L.A. to Seattle.

Harry was about to speak up when he realized that Victoria was beginning to undress: she used her toes against the backs of her boots to shed them first, grimacing noticeably at the cold against her now bare feet; she peeled off the stocking cap and shook her head, letting her long, straight, fine, and naturally blonde hair flow down her back; and finally, she untied and unbuttoned the long, thick coat and pulled it from her shoulders, tossing it over another big boulder.

She turned Harry's direction and only now caught sight of him, freezing in place as he stared at her wide eyed. A long, silent moment passed before them as she wondered what the hell Harry was doing here and Harry simply ogled the incredible beauty that was Victoria Parcell.

"It's not your day," she said, finally breaking the silence; her tone wasn't accusatory but was almost friendly.

"It's forty degrees," Harry said, ignoring her statement and pointing out the incongruity of her being out here as she was.

"I thought I would take a bath," she said, slowly making her way down toward the edge of the stream, no longer looking Harry's way.

He repeated with emphasis, "It's forty degrees. I don't have a working thermometer, but ... I know forty degrees when I feel it."

Victoria seemed to be ignoring Harry, but he certainly wasn't ignoring her. He'd already been well aware that she was a beautiful woman, but to see her like this was ... well ... it was having effects on his mind and body.

Victoria was about to vanish from Harry's sight as she descended down behind the rocky stream bank. When only her head was still within sight of him, she looked to him, gave him a flirty smirk, and asked, "Are you just going to sit there ... or are you going to join me?"

She disappeared from his view. Harry chuckled to himself, then called out to her, "It's forty degrees!"

From out of sight, he heard the beauty call out, "Chicken."

Harry stared her direction for a moment, seeing nothing change in the situation. Then, after looking up and down the stream's shore for signs of some of her people, Harry stood and headed Victoria's direction. He again looked about the woods for signs of his counterpart's people, concerned that maybe she had something up her sleeve.

Arriving near where Victoria had disappeared, Harry stopped suddenly at the sight of the plaid shirt she'd been wearing, now laying over the top of a shrub. He hesitated, moved forward, and stopped again as he found more of Victoria's clothing laying on the sandy shore. Upon further review and recalling how little she'd had on when he last saw here, Harry was certain the blonde was now very much naked.

There was a splashing sound from the far side of a massive bank boulder, followed by Victoria calling again, "Are you coming in, Harry? Or are you the shy type?"

He hesitated, unsure of just what the hell was happening here. His comments to her about how cold it was were not exaggeration; it was most certainly in the low forties Fahrenheit, and the water was surely even colder than that. But after the woman egged him on again, Harry descended from the higher bank to the sandy shore and neared the water enough to find Victoria in the water up to her neck, laying back in some mossy stones such that her bountiful breasts nearly broke the surface for his viewing pleasure.

"Hot spring," she said, smiling and laughing at the shock in Harry's face. "One of the women found it two days ago when she was down here collecting water for the fire. It bubbles up from somewhere below me and mixes with the stream water. It's not quite bathtub temperature, but it's close to the temp' of my pool in L.A."

She raised a hand and curled some fingers to him invitingly: "Take your clothes off and join me, Harry." Her lips spread in a devilish smirk. "I promise I won't tell your people that you're cavorting with the enemy."

"I don't consider you the enemy, Victoria," Harry said without hesitation. He did hesitate, however, before adding, "But I am a little concerned about the whole cavorting idea."

"Meaning...?" she asked.

Harry was having a hard time keeping his eyes on the beauty's face and away from the surface water below which her incredible body was so barely hidden from view. He thought about what he wanted to say -- he'd been contemplating this conversation for days -- then instead looked up the bank in the direction from which they'd come. Looking back to Victoria, he asked, "Are we expecting company, or ... are you really here--"

"I'm alone," she cut in, answering his question with a firm tone. "Javier has instructions to keep my people away from here, to give me some alone time." Her devilish smirk returned as she pointed out the obvious: "I wasn't expecting to have company, obviously."

Again, Harry's eyes dropped to the water and the almost distinguishable sight of Victoria's womanly shape beneath the ripples. He looked up to her twinkling, hazel-green eyes again, saying, "Your people ... my people. How did this come to pass?"

"You wanted to be king, I wanted to be queen," Victoria answered quickly, as if she, too, had been contemplating this conversation often. "You are well liked, Harry. Your people like you. My people like you. Hell, I like you."

He began hesitantly, "Then ... why--"

"I don't take direction well, Harry," she cut in again. "I don't like being told what to do. Never have. Do you know what I used to do, Harry, back in my teens and early twenties?"

"Early twenties...?" he inquired, chuckling. "When was that, yesterday?"

"I turn 26 in four days, Harry," she said, that smirk returning. "Yeah, I know, most people take me for being younger. I get carded constantly. I used to take it as a compliment, but more often than not, I suspect guys -- I never get carded by women -- I suspect guys are just wanting my name and address. You'd be surprised how many bartenders and bodega clerks just happen to be wandering down my street a couple of days after they'd carded me at their bar or club or store. Creepy."

Victoria went silent for a moment, simply studying Harry, before he reminded her, "You were telling me what you used to do."

She smiled and giggled. "Yeah. I used to be a model. Preteen clothing, then older stuff. Got into lingerie and bikinis and prom dresses and LBDs and God knows what else. It's all kind of a blur now."

Harry smiled when he suddenly realized why Victoria had been so familiar to him days earlier: "You were in that video, um ... who were they, that Indie Rock band out of San Francisco--"

"Gloo," she filled in, smiling. "Yeah, I was in three of their videos ... shaking my ass and tits in clothes that almost weren't there."

Harry suddenly realized that -- just as had happened when he'd first seen Victoria undressing -- he was getting excited down below his beltline. He wasn't really that eager to have Victoria notice his growing erection so he sat atop an old rotting log to free up the groin of his jeans.

She talked very briefly about that portion of her career, then about the years before that before saying, "Since I was 9 years old, all I've ever done was be told what to do: stand here like this, turn there like that, smile, don't smile, give us a profile, show us your ass. I'm sick and tired of it ... and Harry, you were going to do the same here."

He took offense to that accusation, quickly reminding Victoria that he hadn't been giving out orders but had been making suggestions of what needed to be done if they were all going to survive. She responded, "So you say."

Harry was about to clarify further but before he could, Victoria disappeared below the surface of the water. She reemerged a few seconds later, smoothing her hair back against her scalp and wiping the water from her eyes. Harry couldn't believe how naturally perfect the young woman was, without the need for a full layer of whatever it was that women put on their faces to cover what they considered imperfections.

"If you're not going to join me," she said after a moment, "how about you give me some privacy so I can wash up and get back to my people."

Harry wasn't sure what else he could say, let alone whether or not this was the right time and place to say it. He looked a bit lower down Victoria again; she had shifted her position in the water now, causing the upper curvatures of her still firm, still incredible breasts to nearly emerge from the water; he was certain he could see the darker flesh of her nipples, which caused a little voice in the back of his mind to scream out desperately Take your fucking clothes off and get the fuck in there, you asshole!!

Instead, Harry only gave Victoria a polite smile and reminded her, "It's your day here. I'll get out of your--"

Suddenly, the natural quiet of the early morning was shattered by the very unnatural sound of not very distant gunfire. Harry's first instinct was to crouch down, in case the bullets were coming his direction; his next action was to pull out the Beretta in the small of his back and move up the shore a bit for a better look. The gunfire was continuing, now up to ten or twelve rapidly expelled rounds.

Not really thinking about what he might see, Harry looked Victoria's direction ... just in time to see the fully nude woman hurrying out of the water toward him. His eyes widened at the sight of womanly perfection and she herself was asking in panic, "What is it? What's happening?"

Harry forced himself to pull his eyes from Victoria's amazing body. A second round of firing had started, and it sounded as if it was coming from a slightly different position. "I don't know. I need to get up there. Get dressed."

Harry searched the forest before him as he rose from the shore higher up the bank. He glanced back again, finding Victoria back into her faux-jean shorts bikini bottom and pulling the accompanying top over her delicious mounds. She caught him looking her way and gave him a what the fuck expression. He murmured before looking back to the forest, "Sorry."

The shooting had stopped by now, with Harry believing that two full clips of 14 rounds likely had been discharged. He could hear voices now, excited sounds; some of them seemed happy while others most certainly were not. Victoria hurried up the bank past Harry to her coat and boots, which she quickly donned.

"What's happening?" she asked as she dressed. "Is it over, whatever it was?"

"Seems so," Harry said, now walking in the direction of the fire. He paused to look back, and once Victoria was again fully dressed, he said, "C'mon, let's go see what happened."

"You want to be seen with me?" she asked, a mix of humor and accusation.

Harry smiled and reminded her, "You're the one who wanted her own little realm. ... Queen Victoria."

She hurried not just to Harry but around him, leading him up the trail instead of the other way around. When they emerged from the forest into the grassy plain that included both camps and the wreckage between them, they found most of Victoria's people gathered about 50 yards away. She continued their direction in a hurry, and when someone finally caught sight of her, she called out, "What's going on? What happened?"

As she and Harry neared the group, it parted like the Red Sea to reveal a now very dead, very bloody corpse of a Saber-toothed cat. Javier Flores -- showing off -- lifted his own Beretta, ejected the clip dramatically, and popped another one into it with the loud metallic sound of the slide slamming forward to inject a new round. He bragged, "I killed it."

"We killed it!" another of Victoria's people added quickly.

Javier laughed at the man, correcting, "You unloaded a clip at it without even making it flinch. I'm the one who--"

"Shut the fuck up, Javier," Victoria snapped at the man; the crowd had moved back a bit and she was taking a slow walk around the big cat. She looked to Harry, who seemed just as amazed at the sight as was anyone else. "It's not a cougar, and it's not a lion-lion, not that we should expected one of those here in Oregon ... I mean, unless one got out of a zoo or animal park."

Someone reminded them that there was a place in Southern Oregon called Wild Safari, but one and then another and then many people were commenting on what most of the group had by now accepted: they weren't in the year 2021 A.D. anymore.

Harry began examining the feline more closely, noting how many places blood was emerging from the corpse; Javier -- and possibly the other man -- had hit the Saber-toothed cat at many as twelve or more times.

"Where did it come from and where were you when you started shooting?" he asked the second man.

Javier cut into the inquiry with, "What the fuck is he doing here?"

Victoria caught Javier's eye and again, this time softer but with emphasis, told the man, "Shut the fuck up, Javier." She looked to the other man, instructing, "Answer his question: where'd it come from and where were you."

"I was over there, taking a piss," the man said pointing, then blushing when he realized he'd given a bit more information than necessary. He pointed three more times, saying, "It came from there, heading that way, right at Maria. Javier was over there."

The cat had essentially fell straight forward onto its belly, not rolling to either side. Harry looked at the wounds on the animal's hide, poking his finger into some of the entry points to ensure that they were in fact just that: bullet holes. He finally looked up to man who'd been braggin, smiling with a strange, devilish delight. "There are 11 entry points on the cat's right side and only three on the left side, Javier ... your side. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I doubt very much that you--"

The trigger-happy man wasn't having it, though, cutting in, "The fucking thing dropped after I shot it."

Harry wasn't looking to start a fight, particularly with a man who'd already pointed a pistol at his face. Instead, he looked to his counterpart -- who was on her knees studying the cat's face -- and said, "Congratualtions, you have enough meat now to feed your people for quite a while. And you've got yourself a really nice fur coat ... or blanket or whatever you want to do with the animal's pelt."

He turned away, intending to head back to his own camp, but Victoria stopped him by admitting, "We don't have anyone who knows how to ... whaddaya call it, tan a hide?"

Harry stopped and turned back, after which Victoria continued her reluctant admission, "We, um ... we've been throwing the hides of the rabbits and other furries away because ... well, I told you ... we don't know what to do with them."

Harry casted his eyes about the group, thinking no one knows how to cure a hide? All he saw were eyes diverting away from him or simply staring back at him as if to say and I'm sure you're an expert at it, right?

"I'm sure Cliff Sampson would be more than happy to teach a couple of your people how to do it," Harry said.

"I'll provide the people," Victoria said. Then, seeing the thoughtful expression on Harry's face, she asked accusingly, "In exchange for ... what?"

"Another Beretta and a box of ammo," he said.

"Bullshit!" Javier immediately snapped off.

But Victoria agreed, "Deal."

"They aren't your guns, Victoria!" Javier said.

Victoria's response was to glance to another man, Frank Rollings, who was standing fairly near Javier. Frank moved up behind Javier silently, grabbing the latter man's gunhand and pressing his own 9mm to the back of Javier's neck as he said softly, "Don't even twitch."

Harry had never seen Javier frightened before, and as he Frank disarm Javier, he realized that he liked this look on the man better. Victoria was pleased as well, gesturing Frank to give her Javier's piece, which she then handed over to Harry: "I'll get you the box of ammo after Cliff comes over here and shows us how to make a fur coat." She looked down to the cat and said with humor, "I'll look good in that color, doncha think?"

Javier was grumbling about what was happening just loud enough to ensure that both Victoria and Harry heard him. The woman leading the second group told Frank, "Go get the gun case and keep it secure away from our friend Javier here." Then stepping up close to the gun runner, she said, "Don't worry, Javier. I'll remember how important you are to our happy little family. I'll just be remembering it without worrying that you're going to shoot me in the dark, like you wanted to shoot Harry ... like you've threatened to do to others on, what, at least three occasions. You're not a man I want to have walking around me carrying a piece. Trust me, Javier, this is better for all of us, including you ... because I was just about to the point where I was going to ask Frank to put a round in your skull."

Harry wasn't entirely sure just how authentic Victoria's words were; was her camp really so much on the edge regarding Javier? It seemed so, and -- to be honest -- Harry didn't doubt it, what with his previous experiences with the gun seller. Victoria gave Harry one last look before she turned for her camp and called over her shoulder, "Send Cliff, please, Harry. If I remember what I was told, we have to cut this beast up soon, otherwise the meat goes bad."

Harry watched Victoria, Frank, and most of the others head back toward their camp, while Javier -- glaring at Harry with true hatred -- and a few stragglers stayed to look at the dead cat. Some of Harry's people had by now come to the shooting sight, and Harry joined them for the walk back home, explaining what had happened.

"To Wear the Throne"

Almost an hour after entering it, Melody emerged from the conflagration that once was the barbarian clan's village, her face tattoos almost imperceptible beneath the soot and ash that the on again, off again sprinkles had smudged upon her skin. A dozen men and twice as many women were either following her or waiting for her at the community's edge; they'd pillaged the buildings not afire or risked entering those that had been to salvage as many items of value as they could.

"Take it all to the tent, Kapiten" she instructed her senior military officer as he arrived. "I'll be in my tent, which I assume is standing...?"

"It is, m'lady," the man named Broon acknowledged. "It will still be some time before the fire is--"

She waved off the remainder of his news and gestured him back to his duties. The Captain passed Melody's instructions to the others, directing them to a large tent that was just moments away from being fully erect and secured. Broon gave sharp glares to those pillagers who might be contemplating keeping the more valuable items for themselves.

Unlike many cultures where battlefield loot was kept by he or she who'd discovered it, Clan Yalla was well disciplined to deliver every coin, cloak, candlestick, and chamber pot to a specified location for disbursing by Melody herself. The division of the spoils would have to wait, though; the smoke and soot were becoming annoying, and all Melody wanted was to strip out of her filthy field clothes and wash herself clean.

"M'lady!" an older woman, Haanya, called out with surprise when she saw Melody enter the tent. She rushed from the crackling, still growing fire assist her Mistress out of her weapons belt, cloak, leather armor, and layers of outer and inner clothing, all the time chastising her quietly for walking into the burning village. "You are the Lady, m'lady. You have people to do these dangerous things. Why you go into fire and get your clothes dirty and face dirty and hands dirty and..."

Melody had ceased listening to the old woman long ago, having heard it all before. The Lady as Haanya had called her had never been a stand back and watch the action type of leader. Sure, she hadn't engaged directly in today's fighting, but that was only because she'd hoped there wouldn't be any. More often than not, the leader of Clan Yalla was right in the violent mix of things, as the dozen or so scars gracing her body from the back of her neck to her belly to both arms and her left leg would attest. Haanya -- who because of her age and years of service to Melody -- felt far more comfortable with chastising her Mistress than did the typical slave, and one of her more often spoken complaints was that the 20 year old woman was far too young -- and beautiful -- a woman to be displaying so much dëme të shëmtuara -- ugly damage -- on display when she undressed for a bath ... or for a man.

"Men like scars," Melody told the woman for the umpteenth time when again she got dressed down while literally dressing down for a bath. "They are a measurement of life experiences."

Haanya guffawed: "On another man, yes, m'lady; not on a woman. You should be sitting in an elegant chair wearing satin and jewels while men kneel before you, laying gold and silver at your feet in the hopes of seeing your unscarred body naked in the marital bed he hopes to share with you upon your wedding night, not riding a horse into battles for which you have men who will gladly give their lives for you."

Melody laughed loudly, moving across to the wood cask tub into which three slave girls had been dumping pitchers of hot water. She ran a hand across the surface, finding its temperature perfect. As she stepped carefully into the almost too hot water, she said to Haanya yet again, "Those men of whom you speak, the ones who will gladly give their lives for me ... how long would they continue to do so if I did not show them that I, too, was willing to give my life for them?"

As the woman better than twice Melody's age began a long, rapid rant in her first language, she moved to behind her Mistress and began the time-consuming task of loosing her small-of-the-back length hair from its braids until finally it was fully freed. Melody only laid back into the water and let the heat envelope her. Haanya delivered a platter of cut up meats, cheeses, fruits, and more to a little table to her Mistress's left; she put a large glass of thick red wine on the matching but oppositely place table.

"Call the Kapiten, please, Haanya," she said as her head fell back and her eyes closed; the steaming water was already having the expected effect. The slave woman did as told, and Broon arrived shortly thereafter; he saluted with his head bob and fist to his armored chest, showing no reaction to clearly being able to see his Lady's dark, pert nipples just barely above the already dirty water. "That slave you put to work..."

"Yes, m'lady," he confirmed recalling which man about whom she spoke. "He is gathering wood for your fire."

"Bring him to me," she instructed. "I wish to talk to him."

The Captain only stared for a moment. Only now -- and just for a brief moment before again looking up -- did he let his gaze fall conspicuously to her display of womanly perfection: "Now, m'lady? Would you like to finish your--"

"Now, Captain," Melody insisted. "And ... I need you to do something else for me, too."

She gave Broon his second instruction and the man departed. Melody slipped down beneath the water's surface, ran her hands through her hair as it floated in the water, then lifted her head above the surface and smoothed it back away from her face. A guard entered, followed by the Sedent barbarian and yet another guard. Melody had returned to her previous position; once again, the brown nubs decorating her firm, young round breasts were visible just above the gently moving water.

A moment later, the Captain returned as well; he manhandled an uncooperative yet obviously frightened Sedent girl of perhaps 6 years of age off to one side of the tent. Melody looked to the two guards and said, "You may leave. But first ... unshackle my newest slave."

They didn't move, but when their Mistress repeated her orders and threatened the removal of their left nuts if they didn't obey, they each hurried to get the shackles off the man before hurrying out of the tent. Melody gave the barbarian a slow, up and down survey, then said to him in a polite tone, "Take your clothes off. I want to see all that I will be selling at the slave market come Full Moon."

He didn't seem to enthusiastic to do as Melody requested, so she glanced Broon's way. The Captain pulled his knife and held it tightly against the little girl's neek. Melody said with a soft, almost loving tone, "Please."