Tanks Aplenty (open, PM if interested)

[Spectacles]

((This is basically: "man survives end of the world, found by new, technologically repressed society". I'm looking for a female co-writer to play one of the "savages". I'm also more than willing to hear any ideas regarding the details of this new society, as it seems only fair with my co-writer as the one playing as one of them.))


He was a man in a fish tank.

The tank itself was a cylindrical affair filled to the brim with translucent liquid that surrounded and encompassed the form within. A heavy lid, forged of an unknown metal, sealed the tank. Nothing was allowed in, not even air. Likewise, that held within, a body with the solid lines of a man, has not been without to feel even the simple pleasure of the wind on his face in a millennium or more. A mask over the lower portion of that face provided a lifeline of breathable air. The mask was all he wore; that much was apparent despite the murkiness of the liquid that otherwise concealed the details of his face and form.

Rock walls, the walls of a cave, surrounded the tank on three sides. Cave art on one wall, that of men hunting unfamiliar beasts, made the tank seem all the more out of place with its technological nature. The back of this long-forgotten cave had long ago become the place that housed its unlikely occupant. In all that time, nothing sentient has even been aware of its existence. It was something of an age long past, an age forgotten and likely to never be re-discovered. Until random chance intervened, that is.

A storm battered the cliff wall. It was not the first storm of its kind to hurl itself against the rock face, and it would not be the last. But it was the first to drive a group of hunters to seek refuge within that small and unlikely cave. Mud caked each of their sinuous bodies from head to toe, leaving even their shoulder-cropped hair slick against their scalps. They appeared savage and as one with the nature around them as they flowed into the cave's mouth like water.

If the tank's occupant could open his eyes, then the sight of these mud-caked figures with only their eyes visible in the near dark would greet his waking gaze. The language they spoke would be alien and entirely incomprehensible to his ears. But he would have understood one thing quite well. The hurled rock that arched toward the tank's glass wall needed no translating. Glass shattered. Liquid splurged out. His form fell forward.

He was dead. Dead for who knows how long, but it was clear that he stopped breathing years and years ago, if not centuries. Inquisitive eyes set in mud covered faces turned toward the cave's second occupant: a second tank that likewise held a comatose form. This body was much like the first in that he was undeniably male and devoid of a woman's curvature; this much could be seen through the translucent liquid containing him.

He was a man in a fish tank.

A second rock hurtled through the air, freeing him with the crystal tone of breaking glass. Like his predecessor, he slumped forward, apparently lifeless. Curious feet paced forward only to prod at him with questing fingertips. As one they jumped back at the sound of him taking a deep breath, his first in uncounted ages.

He laid there, his eyes yet closed, the mask yet affixed to the lower half of his face. His skin shimmered, glistening and covered with that strange liquid the tanks previously contained. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath he took, as if breathing was all his body could manage while adjusting to the shock of being plunged into the air of the outside world.

The savages padded forward again, their confidence growing. Hands seized him, lifting and carrying him to the very beginnings of the cave. The storm yet raged outside. Gingerly the hands set him down near the very center of the cave. Warily their gazes remained on him as again they began to speak and to argue in their own tongue, undoubtedly discussing his fate before he even had a chance to fully awaken.

 

[sdineen]

fg

i would like to play very much

 

[EclipseValeska]

Eight of their best had gone, seeking what they needed from the earth. Rudimentary tools carved and forged from things gathered near their village clasped in their work callused hands. Caked in earth to blend into the terrain, these women gathered roots and berries, learning through trial and error what was safe to consume and what would bring on the wrath of the Goddess. Meat was scarce close to their village, so the group was forced to venture further and further from their homes to find what they needed.

The sun had long since disappeared, the sky once a pristine blue, now bore the angry grey color of storms. Lightening ripped through the sky, illuminating the ground as they ventured into the canyon. The high walls sleek and formidable as they pushed on. Thunder offered the only sound as they walked. They had gathered much this day, enough food to feed their village for at least two days. They walked in silence, ever alert for a stray animal to take down. Their naked forms, caked in mud and dirt, their hair thick ringlets of curl, the color hidden beneath their disguise.

The only one who was different from the group, under the cakes of mud was the village leader, Astasia. The Goddess had made her in her own image, her own vision of purity and power. Her skin, hidden beneath the layer of thick mud was snow white, flawless in nature, save the scar, burned into her left breast. The scar, placed there by her own Mother, was a sign of her station in life. Her hair, the color of fire, straight and braided in a thick tail that brushed her lower back as she walked. Her beauty was unrivaled by any in the village. Her eyes were green, the same soft shade as the grasses that billowed in the breeze to the east.

The first droplets of water caressed her skin, causing the dried mud on her shoulders to bleed and freshen. Another peel of thunder echoed through the canyon. She raised her face to the sky, sniffing the air as though she were an animal, testing the air around the group. The team behind her, carrying their kills and finds stopped in their tracks, feeling what she felt, knowing what she knew. Danger!

Quickly, her eyes scanned the bare walls of the canyon, looking for a safe haven. Grunting, she pointed to a place where the rock and been carved away by the Goddess herself. She sent a silent prayer heavenward, thanking the Goddess for the blessing of safety. The group scrambled up the cliff face, still carrying what they needed to deliver back to their home. Swift and catlike, they scaled the rock face, ascending to the safety, off the ever dampening floor of the canyon.

Torrents of water crashed down on them as they entered the cave, their eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness, their skin prickling with the chill in the air. Their naked flesh beneath the mud trembling. Astasia survey the cave, seeing strange objects, things that she had never seen, only heard about. Ancient stories, past down in lore from her ancestors. These objects were filled with water, but murky.

Movement behind her caused her to turn, to see the rock falling through the sky. An angry billow came from her lungs, as she turned back to see the object shatter and the fluid run out. Inside was their most prized possession, a male. Naked and glistening and very much dead. No one dared move, knowing their leader was angered. Astasia knelt down slowly, her eyes on the other tank. Her hand capturing another rock, she glanced back at her party, who were watching her with expectation.

Bringing her arm back, she shattered the other quiet, throwing the heavy rock with all her might. Shards of crystal and fluid exploded. Like before a shower of fluid and a body slid forth onto the cold, cave floor. Another possession lay at her feet.

Astasia ventured forward, slowly, cautiously. Her eyes remaining on the unmoving form. She was not fearful, for she had never known that emotion. She was in awe, had the Goddess finally full filled that long given prophecy? Kneeling down, she ran her fingers along the finely chiseled chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Alive, the breath of life filling his lungs. Quickly, she removed the object covering the lower portion of his face.

Angry voices, speaking in their native tongue met her ears, pulling her from her own thoughts. “What do you mean, take it back?” Echo spoke, her eyes wide and fearful. Echo was, in the group, the most fearful, the youngest of all the women, fifteen cold seasons had passed since her birth; fifteen cold seasons had passed since any birth.

“The prophecy!” Muttered another.

Astasia rose to her feet, holding her hand to silence the group who were working themselves into a frenzy. “Bind him, we take him with us.” Eyes met hers as she stepped away from the body. Walking to the mouth of the cave, she watched as the rains slowly dissipated. Offering another silent prayer, she smiled.

 

[Spectacles]

Rocks and gravel pillowed his head. Cold stone beneath him formed his bed. Hands grasped at him, tugging braided vines along each corded limb. Dry, cracked lips parted, a tongue thick with thirst uttering word after strange word before his mind had even fully shaken off the dregs of a slumber millennia in the making. The hands working the vines paused each time he spoke, halted by awe and some measure of fear. Inevitably, a greater fear of their leader spurred them on, but still the tribeswomen stole little touches as they bound him, as if to reassure themselves that a male truly did lie before them, that he was no trick of their imaginations.

His eyes snapped open. As one being, the women drew back, unable to meet his gaze. Smoky grey eyes regarded them, his glare smoldering. Uncertainty entered that gaze as he took note of the vines binding him and the way they were the only things covering him. It was no small wonder that he struggled against those bonds immediately, his muscles straining in vain to snap them asunder. With a baritone voice he muttered in his own tongue, his tone betraying the obscene nature of the words.

Hair the color of charcoal fell away from his face as his head lifted to allow his eyes the chance to survey his surroundings. The sight of several women crouched near him brought his nudity to mind, and he succeeded in sliding a hand over one pale hip and to his center, covering himself. His shame at his state of dress, or rather, lack thereof, was the only thing in this cave that was familiar to him. He turned his head to address each woman in turn, speaking the same two words each time, words bound to be "Free me".

Not a single woman moved to aid him. As one, their eyes lifted to another at the cave's entrance. His own gaze followed theirs, and he addressed her for the first time. "You! You lead them? Tell me, who are you? Who am I?" His eyes were steely and fixed on the back of her, on the braid that touched the small of her back. The more he spoke, the more insistent his thirst became as it finally thrust itself to the forefront of his mind. "And I need water."

 

[EclipseValeska]

Astasia knew her orders were being carried out without question. She was, after all, their leader. Her place in the tribe had been handed down though the generations, from her mother and the elders before her. She was the most powerful, the strongest and the bravest off all their kind. She could hear the voice of the male, as he was bound, but ignored him. The sounds he made were unfamiliar to her. What language did he speak? Was he really what had been spoken of in the prophecy.

She thought of the stories that had been handed down, stories that told of the world around them dying, changing forever. Nearly all tribes had been wiped off the earth, a great war had occurred eons ago, leaving few survivors to fend for themselves. According to legend, man knew their time was drawing to a close, so a select few had been spared, saved for the day when life would once again flourish.

Was the legend more than just a story, passed down from the ages? Was their truth hidden in the ancient lore of her mother’s? She raised her eyes toward the sky, praising the Goddess for clearing the rains, asking for safe passage to the village. She turned, pleased to see the male trussed and bound. However she could see the pain and, perhaps, fear in his eyes. He was not like the males of her village. They were precious and well cared for, however not nearly as appealing to the eye as this one.

His spoke again, his voice sounding demanding. The sound was broken and raspy. Moving forward, she grabbed a deerskin that one of the others had discarded as they worked. She knelt before him, grasping her chin in his hand. “Drink!” She said, offering the deerskin to his dry, parted lips. Placing the carved bone opening against his mouth, she pressed the skin gently, pushing the water inside, cool and fresh into his mouth.

Astastia let her hand slide from his chin, moving across the fine line of his throat and across the hard plains of his chest, relishing the feel of his cool skin beneath her heated touch. She enjoyed the feel of his skin beneath hers, visions of him writhing beneath her, doing things with her, she had never known before. She had never been permitted the company of a male, as her position as leader did not permit her to have a male, until it was time to conceive her heir. Then and only then, would she be permitted to have a male. She had watched this act, the rutting of animals, producing girls and the occasional male for the tribe. She had often wondered if there was pleasure in the act. No one spoke to her of such things, but she often thought of it.

Rising, she spoke to her followers. “The skies have cleared. The Goddess has provided for us, let us move to our homes, before the smile of the Goddess wains.” Without a word, four women helped to lift the male, hands and legs bound behind him. A large limb, used to carry their kills back to the village, was placed through the ropes, leaving him dangling between them. Traversing the cliffs was treachous, but done with care as the male hung between two of the women. Astasia took her place at the front, leading them east, toward home.

 

[Spectacles]

It was a reflex. He drew back as their apparent leader paced toward him. That she might respond to his demands with violence occurred to him, and he was certainly at a disadvantage with the vines that bound him. His grey gaze focused on her as she knelt by him, and he realized for the first time that she was nude beneath the cracked mud, that they all were. The fire of a blush touched his cheeks in response to this newfound knowledge.

Her hand cupped his chin, and he had no choice but to tilt his head back. Bone touched his lips, and he swallowed reflexively the instant cool water flowed into his mouth. Greedily he drank, slaking his thirst, his body taking all it needed. He was scarcely aware of her touch, of her fingers straying from his chin to trail over his throat and down over his chest. He was simply too fixated on the water he so desperately needed to take notice of anything else.

It finally sunk in that the word she spoke as she offered him the water was not one he understood. It was not even a word of his native tongue. Could that mean that not one of these women could understand him? Inwardly he groaned at the thought. It was bad enough to be the naked captive of strange women, but if they could not even comprehend his speech, then this experience would prove to be truly difficult. It was worse yet. He did not know who he was. He had no idea where he came from. His memories simply were not there. And clearly, he would not be able to ask these women anything.

A groan tore itself from his lips as a limb was shoved through the vines, as he was lifted by it like a piece of meat. They carried him like this through treacherous trails, his swinging form occasionally striking an outcropping of rock, the impact of which would earn a muffled grunt from him. He did not speak again. He had no hope of them understanding him. Worse yet, he was becoming more and more convinced with each passing moment that they intended him for a cooking fire. Why else carry him as they might a slab of meat?

 

[EclipseValeska]

The village spread out before them as they were met by other women to collect their game and prepare it for the others. These women were draped in animal skins, unlike the hunters, who were naked. The woman always hunted naked, covered in the earth. They became one with nature, taking and providing as the Goddess herself would.

Astasia heard the gasps as the entire village began to filter out of their huts and into the common area. "Take the male to the his quarters with the others." she spoke with authority, the chatter and awe instantly dying away. The two that carried the male moved away from the crowd with a nod, taking him to the guarded hut that possessed all the males of the village.

Males were precious commodity to them. Only six males lived among the sixty women, their purpose for breeding, building their numbers. The Goddess had seen it fit that only one male child was born out of every 12 female child. They were all created in her likeness, but no so much as Astasia.

Astasia watched as the hunters gave their kills and finds to the cooks, relating the tale of finding the male. The mud cracked and itched on her skin, she wanted to be clean. Stepping away from the crowd, she made her way to her own hut.

Stepping into her hut, she nodded to her attendant who was already moving to accommodate their leader. Like the rest of the villagers, Rayne had the same tale-tale dark hair, skin and eyes as the other women. She was older by nearly five winters than Astasia, but served the younger woman with pride. She was allowed to reside with their leader, to ensure her every need was met.

"Is it true?" Rayne asked, as she helped Astasia remove her bow and arrow, setting her weapons near the bed of animal skins. "I heard the others speaking of a male. Is it the prophecy?"

"Perhaps." Astasia said, her eyes closing from weariness. "I wish to clean myself. Gather my garments, I will need to be clean for my prayer and communion with the Goddess."