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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Dirigible" data-source="post: 2124416" data-attributes="member: 12631">Karita“Go on, Lokksul... feed it.” Granharr stifled a grin as he handed the recruit a ragged slice of weevily ship-bread, making frantic gestures at his comrades for silence. The youngest orc on board was given a shove towards the skinny, crouched figure as the others chuckled under their breaths.A soft growl started in the beastwoman’s throat as Lokksul swaggered towards her, gripping her supper uncertainly. The sound was instinctive, and would had set most any animal of the forest to flight, but though the orcs felt the meaning of it as one predator to another, they were unconcerned. She could smell the stink of sweat, filth, tar and metal on the orc even before her pale brown eyes cracked open. Karita shifted her weight slightly, three-toed feet squeezing against the deck, trying to gain purchase on the salt-crusted wood with claws that were no longer there. The five-point chains that held her around the ankles, wrists and throat jingled slightly, her strength far from sufficient to wrench the securing bolt from the wood as she wanted to.Lokksul had been aboard the slave ship when it had arrived in port, and unlike Granharr and many of the others hadn’t had to deal with the feral Erenlander before. Wondering what the joke was, the recruit thrust the black bread towards the prisoner. He raised his hand, ready to jerk the food away and strike the prisoner for his amusement.Karita snapped into motion. Her hand lashed out to grab the bread, as hard as she dared with the tips of her fingers still agonizingly sore from being declawed. Her lank hair flying, the beastwoman lunged forward to sink her pointed, predators teeth into the orc’s gray-skinned wrist. Lokksul howled in pain and alarm, and pulled his arm away, leaving a chunk of flesh in the prisoner’s mouth. Black-brown blood flowed freely from the wound; for anyone without the native toughness of an orc, the wound would be almost life threatening. The recruit spat repugnant obscenities at his shipmates, holding his shredded hand against his chest to try and staunch the bleeding.The beastwoman swallowed the musky, rank-tasting meat without complaint. In her life, she had eaten many worse things. Without taking her eyes from the orcs, lest they seek retribution for her attack as they often did on land, she began to bite off and struggle to gulp down hunks of bread, weevils and all. Her fangs were for gripping and ripping prey, not chewing fibrous vittles.Her eyes flicked to the other bound orc, the smaller brute chained to the deck as she was. Grinning under his mane, he looked pleased at, almost proud of her attack. Karita stared uncomprehendingly at the orc for a few moments, then hissed a warning at him. The beastwoman shifted, tugging at her chains and gurning to show her unhappiness, before letting the weight of the chain bear her down to the deck.She hated the water, and it was little comfort that this swaying wooden basket she was on separated her from it; it was not earth, and she felt permanently unsettled. Karita curled into a fetal ball, huddling in on herself to conserve her body heat, using her hairy skin and layer of dirt as some token shelter against the fog and drizzle of the Pellurian.</blockquote>

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