Classy Lady & Mistress present: Steampunk Tropical Revolution Romance

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Lady Sabine, Aug 14, 2013.

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  1. Hello, random stranger, and welcome to mine & the Mistress's humble one on one. If you like what you see, we only ask that you start a private conversation instead of interrupting us. (Free likes/loves are, naturally, perfectly acceptable)
    Other than that, enjoy your read. ^^

    &&Factions:: With all the people running around, there are really two main groups vying for power, though a few others have made their causes known.
    -The Estrian West Imperial Army: the occupying force from the continent, the military has a history of brutality and intolerance that pales in comparison only to their tenacity. In spite of overwhelming odds they have captured most of the major islands and surpressed any large scale insurrection among the slave population.
    -The Sleeping Jaguar Rebellion: formed by and around the young prince Makaha Chain-Breaker who claims to be the son of the last Keimiche princess, it has proven itself a surprisingly strong opponent for the imperial army. In spite of keeping to their native roots they are pragmatists who will fight using continental weapons as well as a bit of magic brewed up by their witch doctors.
    -The Peaceful Abolitionist Movement: organized only loosely, this group is populated mainly by Gans & freedmen, though anyone is welcome to join. Their influence is primarily political, though there are some radicals who advocate less than peaceful methods.
    -The Virnish Underground: Though small, this network is vicious and well-funded. They have supplied arms to the Jaguars in the past, but in the end, they're in it for themselves and for Virn, making them untrustworthy allies at best. They are suspected in a few bombings and several assassinations, though they've been quiet recently.

    &&Keim:: A tropical paradise, were it not for the rampant social problems caused by harsh slaves codes, brutal suppression of dissent, and poverty among the natives. There are dozens and dozens of islands that make up Keim as a whole; the largest island is actually named Keim and is the only one with a harbor big enough to admit a full size military or trading ship. It has three active volcanoes, miles and miles of untamed jungle, and a simmering resentment among the native tribes still living freely in the jungle. The people of Keim are known as the Keimiche.
    -The Pale Mansion: The home of the governor, Lord Henry Clayy. It is a beautiful building of white limestone, just a few months old, after the past three were knocked down in earthquakes. Having finally learned his lesson, the governor ordered this mansion be just a single story high, and it sprawls out luxuriously over acres of grounds and gardens, protected by a high wall.
    -Jaguar Den: The home of the Sleeping Jaguar rebellion. It is snuggled neatly in a valley between two active volcanoes, though on the inactive sides. The sleeping sisters, as they call the volcanoes, keep the continentals away, for the most part. Though they have built some stone ramparts, for the most part the rebellion is housed out of bamboo huts and hammocks slung between fruit trees.
    -The Good Fortune: A dubiously respectable inn & tavern located not far from Fort Fairfielde. It has stages for dancing girls, not officially registered a whorehouse. That isn't to say that they won't sleep with customers, just that they aren't required to- and all customers that wish to get a girl for the night are also required to rent a room, which is the house's cut. This prevents widespread sexual relations between patrons and customers and keep the place arguably decent. It has good drinks, better entertainment, and no bad history, which keeps the officers and wealthy townsmen alike coming.
    -Fort Fairfielde: Occupying a decent stretch of the harbor and reaching inland to an airfield, Fort Fairfielde appears overly large for the size of the island, but in fact the soldiers, sailors, and airmen are stretched thin keeping an eye over all the continental outposts. It is on the opposite side of town from the Pale Mansion, and every bit as ugly as the other building is beautiful. It is home of the West Imperial Command.

    &&The Continent:: The epitome of human civilization, continentals are fiercely superior, but divided into over a dozen smaller countries which causes plenty of infighting. Continentals have pale skin, though their eye and hair color varies greatly from region to region.
    -Estria: Estria has the strongest claim to Keim, and has established their governor and Fort Fairfielde. It is a constitutional monarchy, ruled by an emperor and a parliament consisting of three dozen elected individuals. The two ruling bodies often conflict over policy- the throne's belief is that slavery is a just and fair way of dealing with the natives, while the parliament contains several abolitionists.
    -Virn: Virn has the second strongest claim to the island, and is rumored to have sold arms to the Sleeping Jaguar rebellion & arranged for several acts of sabotage against Estrian operations. The Virnish speak a different language and their accent is mocked by many. They are also known for having exceptionally fine wine and fashion, as well as being a Tyranny under the control of a territory-hungry despot.
    -Ganlund: The Gans produce the finest mechanics and drunks, who are often one and the same. If there's any machine that needs building, fixing, or designing, a Gan will likely be on the project. Their country has no real claim on the island, and as a republic, their congress has specifically forbidden participation in the hostilities between Estria & Virn, as well as aiding the rebels or owning slaves. This makes Gans the most neutral continentals on Keim.
    • Love Love x 1
  2. A hurricane was due for the following morning, if the witch doctors in the market had it right- and the witch doctors in the market always had it right. The scientists in the university concurred after consulting their fancy machines, and any idiot could look out a window and see the dark blue clouds rolling in. A hurricane wasn't a sudden or small thing that snuck up on Keim, no, it could be felt for days, and oppressive calm punctuated by furious winds that tore at the fronds of palms like careless children.
    Inside of the Good Fortune both wind and careless kids were forbidden, and in their place were beautiful girls in golden collars & pink saris. The calm before the storm had ushered in a full house of new patrons in addition to the Friday regulars, though few of them would stay longer as the weather would soon turn south. Until they heard rain pelting the roof, though, most of the men seemed intent on making the most of their night, and the Good Fortune was only too eager to respond.
    On stage, girls in outlandish feathered headpieces gyrated and leapt to a strange combination of tribal dances, ballet from the continent, and the sensual moves known by dancers of their sort everywhere. Classy as the place was, the girls had skill and their outfits never revealed more than they needed to tantalize.
    The smell of the food was equally tantalizing. Plates left with grilled shrimp and pineapple; with fried plantain and saltfish; with oysters and chips; with spicy goat curry over rice; with potatoes and sausage; with meat pie and fruit salad. The bartender served up countless mugs of ale and beer, fruity drinks with coconut and rum and lime, and a large variety of wine.
    The girls were good, the food was good, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, and the prices were reasonable. It was just the sort of place to attract officers in need of distraction, and that night a good three quarters of the place was filled by military men. Even out of uniform they could be recognized by the ways they walked and talked and bragged and swaggered.
    Ynu sympathized. Even out of uniform, she was only too easily recognized.
    It wasn't that she stood out from a crowd in her appearance. She was lovely and tall and lithe, like all the dancers. Her hair was black and silky and down to her ass, but Sarah's hair was longer. She had sensual eyes, but Ria was half Virnish and her eyes were green and rare. She was shapely, but Ylleh had larger breasts and a firmer rump. She had a beautiful voice, but Nirr could sing like an angel. Perhaps she could have blended in if she had just kept her chin down.
    What marked Ynu was pride. She did not whore herself out to men. She knew her own value, and did not demean herself no matter how they threatened her. She was a slave, but the collar around her neck marked her as such, not her attitude. She walked with her shoulders square and met free men in the eye, her chin up and hands on her hips. Some said she had spunk, but in truth she had ego, a much rarer trait in slaves.
    Still, she did her job well. After all, it was one thing to be a dancer at a fine establishment like the Good Fortune, and quite another to be simply another beautiful face at the slave market. They treated her well here, so she worked well, though ever with the dream of freedom. She would own a pub one day, and serve only the best food and drink, and no one would ever insult her because she would hire the toughest bouncers and pay them generously to beat the shit out of anyone who gave her any.
    It was a childish dream, perhaps, but it kept her going, and it was easy to tell women who had lost their dreams. Their eyes did not shine like hers did, and they shuffled when they walked, eyes at a level with their hope. Ynu was quite certain she would rather slit her own throat than live in such a way, so she approached a new table with a confident smile and gaze.
    "What can I get you boys tonight?" She asked, leaning on the table with familiarity. "We have a special on oysters, buy three dozen and get the fourth dozen free of charge. We also have a nice cask of Virnish red just in, and hundred-twenty proof rum from Captain Perr's distillery- but you might need some ballast before that floats you away, sailors."
    • Love Love x 1
  3. It was a rather boisterous crowd at the Good Fortune tonight, full of men sporting military colours from off the ships and surrounding lands. Though the threat of high winds and rains from the hurricane loomed, it was a thought pushed to the back of many minds. Instead they thought of which foods to eat, what ale’s to drink and which girls were the prettiest. They were men, through and through. Henry was no different, though he did not partake in the debate over which of the girls in the Good Fortune were the prettiest. Whether they were slaves or not, he had respect for the fairer gender even though his eye did wander.
    He sat at a table with several crewmen from the ships that had made port, and was speaking at length about their trip back to the Continent. He, himself, had just arrived freshly trained and eager to accept whatever task he was given. He hadn’t been given much to do, which was part of the reason he was here; it seemed that his movement up through the ranks was going to take just a little longer than he had expected, given his superiors attitudes towards a new recruit such as himself. He sighed, chuckling at a joke that was thrown out by one of the men whose company he was enjoying.
    Their loud, drunken banter was interrupted by a female voice, and as blue eyes looked up from under dark brown hair he found a beautiful server staring at the five of them. While she spouted off the many specials and ale’s that the establishment had, he had to remind himself not to smile stupidly. Perhaps he had had far too much ale, and it was as he realized this that he pushed his mug away from him. When she finished speaking he opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by one of the sailors on the other side of the table, closest to her.
    “How about those oysters, hm? And you can join us too!” He said happily, winking at her. Henry looked sharply at the man just as another man piped up, lewd comments leaving his lips as he babbled on drunkenly. Henry covered his face with his hand; not even he was forgetting his manners and he had drunk his fair share of ale too.
    With a sigh he looked up at the young woman, “I’m sure you’re quite use to this kind of thing, but I must apologize for my friends here. I don’t think they mean to be quite so rude.” His voice was soft, but clear and deep. It seemed strange for an officer to have such a soft voice, but when he needed it to carry, it did just that.
  4. Oh, how she hated those men. They were all the same, that crowd. They wore that uniform, that promise of power, and with it wore their insufferable pride. They thought they were better than her, and better than most other white persons too, just because they wore those fancy clothes and put on airs and had guns and knives and tempers. She was better than them all, though, because of one thing. She had her dignity, and they threw that out as soon as they set foot inside. They gave up on self-respect and focused on making people respect the uniform. Well, the uniform of the Good Fortune didn't get respect out of anybody, so she needed plenty of respect in herself.

    "Bearded clams aren't on the menu, sailor," Ynu laughed, though she hated every moment of it, "and I don't eat out. I'll take that as two orders of oysters, coming right up."

    Then the words of the darker-haired man registered in her ears, and she glanced down at him in surprise even as she turned to leave. He was easy to ignore, sitting there so quietly, but he spoke with meaning, which she could respect. When she returned to the table to set down their food, her fingers brushed lightly but purposefully over his arm, the best thanks she could give in front of the group.

    "Can I get you gents anything else?" She asked, her gaze lingering for a moment on Henry, studying him. He was unlike the others. He spoke when and what he meant to, and didn't sell his soul for his uniform. Perhaps this one was different. Every now and then a man would come through, usually half by accident, who wasn't like the others. It was interesting to see how they reacted in this toxic place.
  5. Henry blinked at the gentle touch upon his arm. He supposed giving him thanks in the form of words just wouldn't have been prudent given the current company he kept. He found himself questioning, once more, what he had been thinking when he decided to sit down for a drink with these men. Shaking off the fog of the ale he had been drinking, he realized she had asked them if they wanted anything else. While there were no shortage of requests from the others at his table, he had but one and he thought it was simple enough. Whether or not she would humour him, was an altogether different question. One whose answer he didn't want to think about at the moment.

    He motioned for her to come closer, so as to speak just loud enough for her ears alone to hear. Those at the table that noticed his motion grinned stupidly, while others simply shoveled their food into their mouths and sighed contentedly as they looked around at the other dancers. "Miss, there is only one thing I want at the moment. That is, I would like to know your name," he replied politely. "Mine, for instance, is Henry Fisher," he added, hoping that since he had proffered her his own name that she might be more amenable to giving him hers.

    As he spoke to her, it gave him a moment to quickly examine her better than he had before. As an officer he was trained to make note of even the tiniest details about a person, scene, or situation. He did just that as he looked at her; making note of the way she held herself, upright and with a confidence and determination he just didn't see in many of the other dancers. It was like they had given up on something, what that was he couldn't know. Not unless he developed mind reading talents. He determined, perhaps moments before but confirmed it now as he looked at her, that she was beautiful in her own right. Although, what caught his attention most were her eyes; they just seemed to shine with a light that most slaves also didn't have.
  6. His question caught her more than a little off-guard, and for just a moment the haughty mask she put over her features fell away as shock overwhelmed her. Inquiries were nothing new. Most of them, like his, were more than a little inappropriate. Most of them, unlike his, were inappropriate in a sexual way. He was doing the truly unthinkable- treating a Keimiche slave girl like an actual person. It was shocking, and yet for just a moment she smiled in true delight. She was a person to someone. Maybe just to a soldier, but he was someone. She didn't remember the last time anyone who wasn't in chains asked about her name.

    "I am Ynu," She replied after a moment, composing herself. "Just Ynu." Though she had vague memories of her father she did not know his name to take as her last, and even her mother was only a vague image. She had last seen her when she was just five or six, barely a girl, and her father had already been long gone. He died fighting as a rebel, or so she thought, but some days she wondered if perhaps her entire childhood was not just a product of her imagination, that she had been a slave since birth.

    "Is there any reason you needed my name, Sir Fisher?" She asked after a moment, wondering if he had some ulterior motive, if she had misread him and had not received such a compliment at all. Girls like her knew not to trust, and he had forgotten that for a moment in her excitement- but just a moment.
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