| Fantasy Fiction posted April 24, 2012 | Chapters: |
...29 30 -31- 32... 
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Jacknel has his way ... or does he?
A chapter in the book Gima The Beginning
Gima: Gima's Vertant Spirit
by barkingdog
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for sexual content.
Dear Reader: This is actually Fantasy-Adventure-Horror, but there is no category for it on FanStory. If you do not like this genre, please do not continue reading. I do not intend to offend anyone, but language and behaviors used are essential to the characters and storyline contrasts. Scenes are meant to arouse a range of emotions. I hope that they do. Thank you for reading. Enjoy.:) barking dog
Previously:
Gima was captured by Pike and taken to Jacknel's Arena. Jacknel maimed Pike, angry that he'd brought a worthless female Vertant instead of Trell who is valued as a dissident. Maimed, Pike has no tongue or hands to tell Jacknel that he brought Gima for bait, hoping to attract Trell to Bellow City.
With the Warrior Game's slow box office and losing a top fighter to his competitor Warik's fighter, Picar, Jacknel enjoyed torturing Pike.
Chapter 30
"Finally, my day improves." Jacknel with a little pep in his step throws the exit door open and walks outside to the alley. Now, to the verdant female. “Let’s have a look at you.”
Gima, sitting naked on pelt tatters, shivers in holding pen number thirty-three which reeks of a former female. It’s larger than the one next to it, where Trell was held four years ago.
CHAPTER 31
Ready for a different kind of fun, Jacknel's eye roves up and down the huddling, wide-eyed split-tail. Orange drool and bits of Pike's tongue accumulate on his braided beard as he pokes Gima with a nearby prod used for such merchandise. Zap— the prod speaks, simultaneously, with Jacknel’s glare. “Spread your legs,” he demands. When Gima refuses he presses the pole to her stomach—zizzz— until she complies. I like what I see. A rumble comes from his throat.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jacknel slinks around to the end of the rectangular cage and unlocks its only door. Gnarled and scarred, his anxious hand lowers to the wide belt around his thick waist to stroke the cool metal handcuffs that hang aligned with various divisions of keys, identified by Vermel symbols. He finds a set tagged cage thirty-three.
Jacknel’s deep-set purple eye twitches as thoughts of torture retool his face, and he unlocks a spring-ring just inside the cage, releasing Gima’s chain. His drab-yellow right fist grasps the heavy chain attached to the choke collar around Gima's slender neck. She sits at his mercy in the far back corner; a little thing clenching her legs, rocking, ghostly thin, a near apparition.
He pauses, hands on hips, to relish the pleading look in her watery, lake green eyes. Suddenly, seeking momentum, he hisses, “Hey baby, wakie, wakie,” and jerks the chain tightly upward. Gima gasps and grabs her metal linked slip-collar with both hands. Her own fingers, beneath the collar, press against her choking throat. “Out ... down ... here ... now.” He accents each word with a sudden, sadistic pull. Gima squirms for breath until she tumbles from the three precarious open-grid stairs, falling on the alley’s gravel that grinds into her hands and knees. She falls back, knees and palm bleeding. The chain relaxes, spiraling to the ground. Gima gasps putrid air but air, none the less.
Curved ebony claws, manicured to fierce points, scrape Gima’s scalp as Jacknel grips her hair and pulls her head upward. He cups his swelling pouch and presses it to her upturned face. “I’ll have you … and if you please me,” he raises Gima to standing, backs her against the cage and, meticulously, scratches a single, diamond-jeweled claw path down her cheek, neck and breast, around a nipple to her tight stomach and into the vertant strip of silk that leads between her legs. He laps his pierced tongue along the red path and moans, savoring flavors of fresh air and paw-paws, lakeside mushrooms and fear. Gima whimpers as his drool mixed with spew welts the trail.
Smacking his asymmetrical swollen lips and licking her scraped flesh from his claw, he continues “… mind, only if you please me, I’ll save you from the chambers at Club ErrOww. You’d much rather stay here with me …” he grins, flaunting his dangles. They whip eagerly and strain their length toward her musk. Flirtatiously, one dangle curves and shows its barbs. The other, Jacknel’s favorite, enlarges with its gold nugget and amber implants protruding on its sides. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here with us, my dear?”
His laughter echoes in the alley and toward Main Street of Bellow City’s Platform Thirty-One. Passers-by think nothing of it. It’s that time of the day. A young couple rush down the alley to stop behind the steel fence, hoping to hear the usual screams that follow Jacknel’s outburst of insane glee. They smoke tartanulum and wait to copulate, listening for free titillation to heighten their first release of the evening.
“Brolicious bod?”
“What pig snouty-pie?”
“Remember, you promised front section seats for the big Triple Challenge event at the Arena tonight.”
“No worries.” He pulls out the metal chits for section A row twelve, seats twenty-three and twenty-four.
Seeing them, she extends her collector to his pink flowering member and sucks. They collapse on their side of the metal partition. No more waiting for screams.
Back on the Arena side of the alley wall, Jacknel calls for his assistant who pops out of yet another shadowy space—this time between the cages. “Yes, sir.”
“Set up the Ring Table on the stage and bring a bottle of blue.”
“Immediately, sir.”
Jacknel cackles at Gima’s struggle against his hold. His aging pendulums hang low as he waddles away from the cage and flings her like he expects her to stick against the solid metal alley partition. He holds her up against its chill and she shivers while his bulbous tongue licks her face clean of sweat and tears. They intoxicate and arouse him. He breathes her in.
“Our table should be ready, my dear. Shall we?” With an elegant sweep of his hand toward the arena door and a touch to the small of her back—one would think they were off to have tea— he casually invites her to a lover’s tryst or a tête-à-tête —Jacknel style.
Gima digs her toes into the stony alley’s concrete, resisting the chain’s choking pull into the Arena. She whimpers and pees a trail as they cross the threshold.
With the ring-table ready and a bottle of blue provided, a figure crouches. Hidden in the dim inside light, it breathes deeply as its orderly hand unlaces a full cod-piece. It watches the stage.
“Stand here.” Jacknel pushes Gima, face down, over the table designed for its purpose and, stretching her arms to the far forward corners, handcuffs her wrists to two of the many rings. The bottle of blue is on a smaller table to his right. He pulls out the cork with his teeth and spits it at her her back. Gima flinches. He snickers, gulps a long pull of euphoric blue and shudders as it enters his system. Unclipping his cape and belt, he lets them fall. His curly haired well-groomed back hump, fully raised, protrudes through the slits in his ruffled shirt and gray rat-skin vest.
Jacknel paces around the table several times, ceremoniously stooping beside her to rub his hump on her hands and hair. Eventually, he stops several feet behind her, shakes his arms, flutters his hands at his sides and rotates his shoulders to stimulate the vile ooze from the hump's many fleshy openings relieving themselves.
Ready for the prize, Jacknel squats to face it, to open it. His purple eye glimmers when he spreads Gima's legs; he grunts deep persuasive sounds, licking her smooth calf and inner thighs while he ties her ankles to the narrow, marble table's stone, clawfoot legs. Deformity to perfection, the powerful vermel stops to stare at what he'll take, and breathes her in.
As he eyes her smooth round buttocks and quiet slit, his collector slithers, seeking moisture but finds only dry borders. In retaliatory response to her non-responsiveness, Jacknel's cadaverous smelling drool turns to a thick pasty, brown slime. He mumbles ancient vermel phrases and names of renowned torturers and recalls past conquests. Seeing her stillness, Jacknel, surrepticiously, creeps his icy clawed hands from her quivering feet on the floor to her thighs, on up to encompass Gima's slim waist, where he squeezes for slow enjoyable penetration, needing to elicit pain.
Gima cries out at the sudden punctures to her side.
That a girl … louder next time. Jacknel stands to take another swig of blue. His work has just begun.
Teleck moans in the shadows and tosses back a tube of ruby rigidity.
Bent over the table, Gima sees Pike’s severed forearm. She’d recognize it anywhere by its forefinger’s steel claw. Jacknel’s everything Trell told me: sadistic, brutal, and deadly.
With a firm grip on her hair, Jacknel lifts Gima’s head back and slams it into the table. “I’m just warming you up, my sweet. You’ll like this little game. Have you nothing to say?” The open gash on her forehead sends warnings to her entire body. She hears Trell’s voice – ‘I should have done nothing … not said a word’ – and Gima shuts down.
Gima is silent, submissive ... not a further tear or whimper. Trell had shown her his own wounds which he said only increased as his protests grew louder. She knows for the ‘game’ to be a ‘success’ for Jacknel, it needs her active participation. She feels Jacknel stroke her back with something thick and wet and slowly insert something thin and cold. Gima readies herself for the worst; clenching her fists and jaw, she braces to remain silent.
“Let’s see how you welcome this.” Jacknel takes another swig, and expels blue into a tube. Seeing Gima's instant stiffening reaction, he bellows to his favorite member, “Drink up boy,” and expertly forces the stone enhanced dangle into her elixir enhanced darkness. A fire of torn flesh ignites at its size. The snake-like dangle undulates forward. Gima feels it lapping the elixir-blood cocktail which mixed inside as Jacknel begins torrid thrusting—deeper and deeper. He screeches three high-pitched calls of vermel satisfaction at her tightness and pushes to the painful end of her—again and again.
The dark tower of vermel stink and bloat drinks, thrusts, and listens, waiting for the female vertant’s blood curdling, crying answer to his virility. Like all the others, she will scream, curse and resist me many times. I’m sure of it. His passion is held in check, awaiting Gima's ‘answers’ which to Jacknel are calls of love or as close as a vermel can ever get to it.
Except for Teleck’s fast pounding in the shadows, all there is silence. A thumb-sized roach runs up from the floor and across the table, gobbling blue and blood. It crawls over Gima’s arm and exits via a shaking finger, the only evidence that she suffers. Jacknel’s keen hearing tunes to its feet's scratch 'n scurry and, then, goes back listening to only Gima’s even, controlled breathing. No moans. No screams. Not even a whimper? The roach returns. Collector retrieved, it squirts white; reflexive legs twitch between Jacknel’s angry double rows.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jacknel shakes his toy. “You’re alive, bitch. Scream your pain!”
Gima is silent, submissive. Just wait, you perverted piece of shit. Just you wait. I’ll give you nothing—today. Gima doesn’t utter a single cry to increase his pleasure, his size or endurance, or to promote the use of the dangerous barbed twin.
Jacknel reaches under the table for his knotted leather straps and whips Gima’s buttocks and back raw. “Cry out, bitch.” Jacknel tantrums. “Cry out!” He whips and plunges. He bites her neck and shoulders; rips hair from her scalp. His claws sink into her arms, breasts, buttocks ... Her wounds ooze until her body is slick with blood. Still nothing. Like a rag doll, Gima flops under him without resistance. There’s only silence from this victim.
Only silence. I swear that’s all you’ll get from me— raised by Asmel and Hunter, wife of Trell, mother of Blathen the Defender, a Prime One, and Zee, the small. I am all of these. Here and now. Withdrawn into her quiet world, Gima concentrates on the birth of her sons, its pain and its joy, the fighting of wolves, her flight from the cougar and the killing of the rattler. I can survive this. I will not obey to meet your needs. Gima drifts with her memories, and her face relaxes as a peace, a strength, surges through the torn vessel containing her resilient spirit.
Dear Reader: This is actually Fantasy-Adventure-Horror, but there is no category for it on FanStory. If you do not like this genre, please do not continue reading. I do not intend to offend anyone, but language and behaviors used are essential to the characters and storyline contrasts. Scenes are meant to arouse a range of emotions. I hope that they do. Thank you for reading. Enjoy.:) barking dog
Previously:
Gima was captured by Pike and taken to Jacknel's Arena. Jacknel maimed Pike, angry that he'd brought a worthless female Vertant instead of Trell who is valued as a dissident. Maimed, Pike has no tongue or hands to tell Jacknel that he brought Gima for bait, hoping to attract Trell to Bellow City.
With the Warrior Game's slow box office and losing a top fighter to his competitor Warik's fighter, Picar, Jacknel enjoyed torturing Pike.
Chapter 30
"Finally, my day improves." Jacknel with a little pep in his step throws the exit door open and walks outside to the alley. Now, to the verdant female. “Let’s have a look at you.”
Gima, sitting naked on pelt tatters, shivers in holding pen number thirty-three which reeks of a former female. It’s larger than the one next to it, where Trell was held four years ago.
CHAPTER 31
Ready for a different kind of fun, Jacknel's eye roves up and down the huddling, wide-eyed split-tail. Orange drool and bits of Pike's tongue accumulate on his braided beard as he pokes Gima with a nearby prod used for such merchandise. Zap— the prod speaks, simultaneously, with Jacknel’s glare. “Spread your legs,” he demands. When Gima refuses he presses the pole to her stomach—zizzz— until she complies. I like what I see. A rumble comes from his throat.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Jacknel slinks around to the end of the rectangular cage and unlocks its only door. Gnarled and scarred, his anxious hand lowers to the wide belt around his thick waist to stroke the cool metal handcuffs that hang aligned with various divisions of keys, identified by Vermel symbols. He finds a set tagged cage thirty-three.
Jacknel’s deep-set purple eye twitches as thoughts of torture retool his face, and he unlocks a spring-ring just inside the cage, releasing Gima’s chain. His drab-yellow right fist grasps the heavy chain attached to the choke collar around Gima's slender neck. She sits at his mercy in the far back corner; a little thing clenching her legs, rocking, ghostly thin, a near apparition.
He pauses, hands on hips, to relish the pleading look in her watery, lake green eyes. Suddenly, seeking momentum, he hisses, “Hey baby, wakie, wakie,” and jerks the chain tightly upward. Gima gasps and grabs her metal linked slip-collar with both hands. Her own fingers, beneath the collar, press against her choking throat. “Out ... down ... here ... now.” He accents each word with a sudden, sadistic pull. Gima squirms for breath until she tumbles from the three precarious open-grid stairs, falling on the alley’s gravel that grinds into her hands and knees. She falls back, knees and palm bleeding. The chain relaxes, spiraling to the ground. Gima gasps putrid air but air, none the less.
Curved ebony claws, manicured to fierce points, scrape Gima’s scalp as Jacknel grips her hair and pulls her head upward. He cups his swelling pouch and presses it to her upturned face. “I’ll have you … and if you please me,” he raises Gima to standing, backs her against the cage and, meticulously, scratches a single, diamond-jeweled claw path down her cheek, neck and breast, around a nipple to her tight stomach and into the vertant strip of silk that leads between her legs. He laps his pierced tongue along the red path and moans, savoring flavors of fresh air and paw-paws, lakeside mushrooms and fear. Gima whimpers as his drool mixed with spew welts the trail.
Smacking his asymmetrical swollen lips and licking her scraped flesh from his claw, he continues “… mind, only if you please me, I’ll save you from the chambers at Club ErrOww. You’d much rather stay here with me …” he grins, flaunting his dangles. They whip eagerly and strain their length toward her musk. Flirtatiously, one dangle curves and shows its barbs. The other, Jacknel’s favorite, enlarges with its gold nugget and amber implants protruding on its sides. “Wouldn’t you rather stay here with us, my dear?”
His laughter echoes in the alley and toward Main Street of Bellow City’s Platform Thirty-One. Passers-by think nothing of it. It’s that time of the day. A young couple rush down the alley to stop behind the steel fence, hoping to hear the usual screams that follow Jacknel’s outburst of insane glee. They smoke tartanulum and wait to copulate, listening for free titillation to heighten their first release of the evening.
“Brolicious bod?”
“What pig snouty-pie?”
“Remember, you promised front section seats for the big Triple Challenge event at the Arena tonight.”
“No worries.” He pulls out the metal chits for section A row twelve, seats twenty-three and twenty-four.
Seeing them, she extends her collector to his pink flowering member and sucks. They collapse on their side of the metal partition. No more waiting for screams.
Back on the Arena side of the alley wall, Jacknel calls for his assistant who pops out of yet another shadowy space—this time between the cages. “Yes, sir.”
“Set up the Ring Table on the stage and bring a bottle of blue.”
“Immediately, sir.”
Jacknel cackles at Gima’s struggle against his hold. His aging pendulums hang low as he waddles away from the cage and flings her like he expects her to stick against the solid metal alley partition. He holds her up against its chill and she shivers while his bulbous tongue licks her face clean of sweat and tears. They intoxicate and arouse him. He breathes her in.
“Our table should be ready, my dear. Shall we?” With an elegant sweep of his hand toward the arena door and a touch to the small of her back—one would think they were off to have tea— he casually invites her to a lover’s tryst or a tête-à-tête —Jacknel style.
Gima digs her toes into the stony alley’s concrete, resisting the chain’s choking pull into the Arena. She whimpers and pees a trail as they cross the threshold.
With the ring-table ready and a bottle of blue provided, a figure crouches. Hidden in the dim inside light, it breathes deeply as its orderly hand unlaces a full cod-piece. It watches the stage.
“Stand here.” Jacknel pushes Gima, face down, over the table designed for its purpose and, stretching her arms to the far forward corners, handcuffs her wrists to two of the many rings. The bottle of blue is on a smaller table to his right. He pulls out the cork with his teeth and spits it at her her back. Gima flinches. He snickers, gulps a long pull of euphoric blue and shudders as it enters his system. Unclipping his cape and belt, he lets them fall. His curly haired well-groomed back hump, fully raised, protrudes through the slits in his ruffled shirt and gray rat-skin vest.
Jacknel paces around the table several times, ceremoniously stooping beside her to rub his hump on her hands and hair. Eventually, he stops several feet behind her, shakes his arms, flutters his hands at his sides and rotates his shoulders to stimulate the vile ooze from the hump's many fleshy openings relieving themselves.
Ready for the prize, Jacknel squats to face it, to open it. His purple eye glimmers when he spreads Gima's legs; he grunts deep persuasive sounds, licking her smooth calf and inner thighs while he ties her ankles to the narrow, marble table's stone, clawfoot legs. Deformity to perfection, the powerful vermel stops to stare at what he'll take, and breathes her in.
As he eyes her smooth round buttocks and quiet slit, his collector slithers, seeking moisture but finds only dry borders. In retaliatory response to her non-responsiveness, Jacknel's cadaverous smelling drool turns to a thick pasty, brown slime. He mumbles ancient vermel phrases and names of renowned torturers and recalls past conquests. Seeing her stillness, Jacknel, surrepticiously, creeps his icy clawed hands from her quivering feet on the floor to her thighs, on up to encompass Gima's slim waist, where he squeezes for slow enjoyable penetration, needing to elicit pain.
Gima cries out at the sudden punctures to her side.
That a girl … louder next time. Jacknel stands to take another swig of blue. His work has just begun.
Teleck moans in the shadows and tosses back a tube of ruby rigidity.
Bent over the table, Gima sees Pike’s severed forearm. She’d recognize it anywhere by its forefinger’s steel claw. Jacknel’s everything Trell told me: sadistic, brutal, and deadly.
With a firm grip on her hair, Jacknel lifts Gima’s head back and slams it into the table. “I’m just warming you up, my sweet. You’ll like this little game. Have you nothing to say?” The open gash on her forehead sends warnings to her entire body. She hears Trell’s voice – ‘I should have done nothing … not said a word’ – and Gima shuts down.
Gima is silent, submissive ... not a further tear or whimper. Trell had shown her his own wounds which he said only increased as his protests grew louder. She knows for the ‘game’ to be a ‘success’ for Jacknel, it needs her active participation. She feels Jacknel stroke her back with something thick and wet and slowly insert something thin and cold. Gima readies herself for the worst; clenching her fists and jaw, she braces to remain silent.
“Let’s see how you welcome this.” Jacknel takes another swig, and expels blue into a tube. Seeing Gima's instant stiffening reaction, he bellows to his favorite member, “Drink up boy,” and expertly forces the stone enhanced dangle into her elixir enhanced darkness. A fire of torn flesh ignites at its size. The snake-like dangle undulates forward. Gima feels it lapping the elixir-blood cocktail which mixed inside as Jacknel begins torrid thrusting—deeper and deeper. He screeches three high-pitched calls of vermel satisfaction at her tightness and pushes to the painful end of her—again and again.
The dark tower of vermel stink and bloat drinks, thrusts, and listens, waiting for the female vertant’s blood curdling, crying answer to his virility. Like all the others, she will scream, curse and resist me many times. I’m sure of it. His passion is held in check, awaiting Gima's ‘answers’ which to Jacknel are calls of love or as close as a vermel can ever get to it.
Except for Teleck’s fast pounding in the shadows, all there is silence. A thumb-sized roach runs up from the floor and across the table, gobbling blue and blood. It crawls over Gima’s arm and exits via a shaking finger, the only evidence that she suffers. Jacknel’s keen hearing tunes to its feet's scratch 'n scurry and, then, goes back listening to only Gima’s even, controlled breathing. No moans. No screams. Not even a whimper? The roach returns. Collector retrieved, it squirts white; reflexive legs twitch between Jacknel’s angry double rows.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jacknel shakes his toy. “You’re alive, bitch. Scream your pain!”
Gima is silent, submissive. Just wait, you perverted piece of shit. Just you wait. I’ll give you nothing—today. Gima doesn’t utter a single cry to increase his pleasure, his size or endurance, or to promote the use of the dangerous barbed twin.
Jacknel reaches under the table for his knotted leather straps and whips Gima’s buttocks and back raw. “Cry out, bitch.” Jacknel tantrums. “Cry out!” He whips and plunges. He bites her neck and shoulders; rips hair from her scalp. His claws sink into her arms, breasts, buttocks ... Her wounds ooze until her body is slick with blood. Still nothing. Like a rag doll, Gima flops under him without resistance. There’s only silence from this victim.
Only silence. I swear that’s all you’ll get from me— raised by Asmel and Hunter, wife of Trell, mother of Blathen the Defender, a Prime One, and Zee, the small. I am all of these. Here and now. Withdrawn into her quiet world, Gima concentrates on the birth of her sons, its pain and its joy, the fighting of wolves, her flight from the cougar and the killing of the rattler. I can survive this. I will not obey to meet your needs. Gima drifts with her memories, and her face relaxes as a peace, a strength, surges through the torn vessel containing her resilient spirit.
 Recognized |
cod-piece- an outer garment worn over the male genitals
ASAP- 'as soon as possible.'
UNDER EARTH SPECIES:
Vertant-the off-spring of two Vermel; looks human.
Vermel-mutated humans who live in Under Earth; communicate via sign language and various sounds; noted by their single, particulate-collector naris; one eye; dark or red, coarse body hair; flat or twisted feet with three to six long toes; three fingered hands with long curving claw-like nails; pointed teeth in irregular, double rows; intelligent, but with strong base instincts.
Particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation to living in a polluted underground; mutation ; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Verdants may or may not have remnants, nodes in nasal pharynx tissue(back of throat).
dissident-rebel, nonconformist, protester;
somebody who publicly disagrees with an established political or religious system or organization.
DRINKS & SMOKING
Elixirs:
Euphoric-Blue - arouses passion without arousing anger or fear
Green - calms aggression and base tendencies to mutilate, kill, cannibalize
Caramel-clarity(female enhancement)
Ruby-rigidity (male enhancement)
Violet- given to submissives, primarily Vertants, to change their behavior to aggressive in order to please the Vermel
customer at Club ErrOw's Chambers.
Fitzel- a carbonated alcoholic beverage; a light intoxication; makes one funny, silly, uninhibited, kind
Smoking- usually a mix of madine and sedderthal Hallucinogenic fungi grown in Bellow City
Fazil- a smoking or chewing compound that stains the teeth
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Tartanulum - a tasty smoking compound containing spiders
Verbenium - a pill; dissolves under the tongue to speed orgasm; used when time is of the essence.
LOCATIONS:
Under Earth- a civilization that exists totally under ground; Vermel territory.
Bellow City- located in Under Earth.
Jacknel's Arena- where Hunter and Trell were trained and exploited as 'Man' and 'Man #2'.
Club ErrOw- a dance club downstairs; Chambers for coupling are upstairs.
Sadie's Palace - a night spot where Vertant males are displayed for Vermel viewing and pleasure; masterbation columns are very popular in the Mural Room as is the free elixir bar.
Alitian - Sir Alitus was the atrium's designer
CHARACTERS:
Gima-a Vertant; rescued and raised by Hunter and Asmel
Trell- a Vertant; raised by Vermel, escaped to Upper Earth; has not yet learned to speak but has learned to understand it from Gima, his mate.
Blathen- Gima and Trell's Vermel son; single, particulate-collector naris, one eye; on the hierarchy of Vermel his appearance labels him a Prime-One.
Zee-Gima's second son who looks human
Hunter- Nigel once a business man in the city; was captured and tortured by Ticum to become 'Man' in Jacknel's Arena in Bellow City; 'Papa' to Gima; suffers from PTSD.
Asmal- a survivalist; built a cabin in the mountains; rescued Hunter; raised Gima with Hunter; 'Papa-Azzy' to Gima
Ticum-Vermel;Jacknel's Circus trainer; beat and tortured Hunter; deceased
Trum- Vermel; Ticum's brother; Trell's trainer at Jacknel's Arena
Sadie- runs a display and pleasure house featuring male Vertants.
Milim - Sadie's assistant a Vermel
Picar-Vertant at Sadie's
Jami-Picar's Vertant lover; Sadie's favorite.
Mr. Arnst- Trell's abusive uncle; now a caznu(neutered)and no longer abusive
Rom- Arnst's younger companion, lover
Disposal Officer- Designated by numbers e.g. DO-45, DO-50; executioners; but they sell their prisoners, usually Vertants, on the black-market to various shady characters like Jacknel and Sadie for use in sport, entertainment, pleasure and artificial insemination collection and sales.
Trolious- Head of Ministerial Affairs
Lida - Trolious' wife
Larue- Assistant of Ministerial Affairs; canzu(involuntarilly castrated by Dyrel) Vermel
Brackus- Larue's Vertant charge and lover
Lem- the youngest Vertant to escape with Larue's help
Rolak- Chief Enforcement Officer
Pike-the lead bounty hunter; brought Gima to Jacknel; Jacknel's cousin
Teleck-Jacknel's office assistant; a voyeur.
Beh- a black bear; male; followed Trell home; camp's mascot.
Vermel speech/sounds:
twortle-a sound pattern distinctive to the Vermel; a combination of glottal stops, tongue click-clucks and snorts; an assertive pattern.
chort- throaty sounds varying in tonal inflection and duration; normal speech; he chorts=he says.
toning- saying; using a series of sounds other than speech
thrumping songs-songs Trell learned growing up in Bellow City, Under Earth; melodic, throaty, glottal.
Vocabulary:
particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation, mutation; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Vertants may or may not have remnants; nodes in nasal pharynx tissue may be all that remain in Vertant.
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Caznu-neutered male Vermel; usually gay and neutered by choice for the good of the gene pool by decree of Trolious ; castration is a common punishment regardless of sexual orientation.
And-End - Amen
Pernard- a Vermel curse
Dangle- a Vermel penis; they have two dangles.
Mintrinet - minute
alum- short for aluminium; usually recycled cans; a valued metal.
mold-blossom - a fungi; small, dark brown and caramel colored flowerettes cluster to form a large crysantehmum-type flower; its heavy, sweet decaying scent is used in perfumed oil.
Events:
Warrior Games - Under Earth competitions to the death; all are eligible, male, female, Vertant or Vermel; The odds are stacked in favor of the Vermel.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. ASAP- 'as soon as possible.'
UNDER EARTH SPECIES:
Vertant-the off-spring of two Vermel; looks human.
Vermel-mutated humans who live in Under Earth; communicate via sign language and various sounds; noted by their single, particulate-collector naris; one eye; dark or red, coarse body hair; flat or twisted feet with three to six long toes; three fingered hands with long curving claw-like nails; pointed teeth in irregular, double rows; intelligent, but with strong base instincts.
Particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation to living in a polluted underground; mutation ; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Verdants may or may not have remnants, nodes in nasal pharynx tissue(back of throat).
dissident-rebel, nonconformist, protester;
somebody who publicly disagrees with an established political or religious system or organization.
DRINKS & SMOKING
Elixirs:
Euphoric-Blue - arouses passion without arousing anger or fear
Green - calms aggression and base tendencies to mutilate, kill, cannibalize
Caramel-clarity(female enhancement)
Ruby-rigidity (male enhancement)
Violet- given to submissives, primarily Vertants, to change their behavior to aggressive in order to please the Vermel
customer at Club ErrOw's Chambers.
Fitzel- a carbonated alcoholic beverage; a light intoxication; makes one funny, silly, uninhibited, kind
Smoking- usually a mix of madine and sedderthal Hallucinogenic fungi grown in Bellow City
Fazil- a smoking or chewing compound that stains the teeth
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Tartanulum - a tasty smoking compound containing spiders
Verbenium - a pill; dissolves under the tongue to speed orgasm; used when time is of the essence.
LOCATIONS:
Under Earth- a civilization that exists totally under ground; Vermel territory.
Bellow City- located in Under Earth.
Jacknel's Arena- where Hunter and Trell were trained and exploited as 'Man' and 'Man #2'.
Club ErrOw- a dance club downstairs; Chambers for coupling are upstairs.
Sadie's Palace - a night spot where Vertant males are displayed for Vermel viewing and pleasure; masterbation columns are very popular in the Mural Room as is the free elixir bar.
Alitian - Sir Alitus was the atrium's designer
CHARACTERS:
Gima-a Vertant; rescued and raised by Hunter and Asmel
Trell- a Vertant; raised by Vermel, escaped to Upper Earth; has not yet learned to speak but has learned to understand it from Gima, his mate.
Blathen- Gima and Trell's Vermel son; single, particulate-collector naris, one eye; on the hierarchy of Vermel his appearance labels him a Prime-One.
Zee-Gima's second son who looks human
Hunter- Nigel once a business man in the city; was captured and tortured by Ticum to become 'Man' in Jacknel's Arena in Bellow City; 'Papa' to Gima; suffers from PTSD.
Asmal- a survivalist; built a cabin in the mountains; rescued Hunter; raised Gima with Hunter; 'Papa-Azzy' to Gima
Ticum-Vermel;Jacknel's Circus trainer; beat and tortured Hunter; deceased
Trum- Vermel; Ticum's brother; Trell's trainer at Jacknel's Arena
Sadie- runs a display and pleasure house featuring male Vertants.
Milim - Sadie's assistant a Vermel
Picar-Vertant at Sadie's
Jami-Picar's Vertant lover; Sadie's favorite.
Mr. Arnst- Trell's abusive uncle; now a caznu(neutered)and no longer abusive
Rom- Arnst's younger companion, lover
Disposal Officer- Designated by numbers e.g. DO-45, DO-50; executioners; but they sell their prisoners, usually Vertants, on the black-market to various shady characters like Jacknel and Sadie for use in sport, entertainment, pleasure and artificial insemination collection and sales.
Trolious- Head of Ministerial Affairs
Lida - Trolious' wife
Larue- Assistant of Ministerial Affairs; canzu(involuntarilly castrated by Dyrel) Vermel
Brackus- Larue's Vertant charge and lover
Lem- the youngest Vertant to escape with Larue's help
Rolak- Chief Enforcement Officer
Pike-the lead bounty hunter; brought Gima to Jacknel; Jacknel's cousin
Teleck-Jacknel's office assistant; a voyeur.
Beh- a black bear; male; followed Trell home; camp's mascot.
Vermel speech/sounds:
twortle-a sound pattern distinctive to the Vermel; a combination of glottal stops, tongue click-clucks and snorts; an assertive pattern.
chort- throaty sounds varying in tonal inflection and duration; normal speech; he chorts=he says.
toning- saying; using a series of sounds other than speech
thrumping songs-songs Trell learned growing up in Bellow City, Under Earth; melodic, throaty, glottal.
Vocabulary:
particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation, mutation; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Vertants may or may not have remnants; nodes in nasal pharynx tissue may be all that remain in Vertant.
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Caznu-neutered male Vermel; usually gay and neutered by choice for the good of the gene pool by decree of Trolious ; castration is a common punishment regardless of sexual orientation.
And-End - Amen
Pernard- a Vermel curse
Dangle- a Vermel penis; they have two dangles.
Mintrinet - minute
alum- short for aluminium; usually recycled cans; a valued metal.
mold-blossom - a fungi; small, dark brown and caramel colored flowerettes cluster to form a large crysantehmum-type flower; its heavy, sweet decaying scent is used in perfumed oil.
Events:
Warrior Games - Under Earth competitions to the death; all are eligible, male, female, Vertant or Vermel; The odds are stacked in favor of the Vermel.
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