Chore Examples: Guidelines for Realistic Role-play


The hardworking slaves of MTC have produced several chore examples to act as a guide for newer kajirae who may not be aware of the quality of work expected in our home. Each sample is of appropriate length and complexity and was performed in a realistic manner. Examples which were performed in camp may contain typographical errors; these creative efforts have not been edited in any way. (Please note: Should any of the slaves who contributed their work to this page one day leave our home, their words will continue to be used here as a testiment to their excellence while they were with us. All collars noted on this page are as they were at the time the chore was done; the slaves in question may now have different owners.)

ke'tharn{NS} – Refuelling the Fires with Dung

...guessing that the best way to start and get the area that will be the place where life is mostly taking place in the camp in neat order and refuelling the crackling and flickering fires so that they will once more soar up into the sky to shed their warm golden red light around...wrinkling my nose just slightly at the prospect of getting close to the huge sacks of dung i make myself onto the way toward the supplies wagons underneath which the large sacks are kept that are filled to the brink with the dried cakes of bosk dung...

..already catching the slightly bitter fragrance whafting over to me as i draw closer i frown a bit, pondering if there really isn't some other more convenient fuel supply resource than to collect the dried flades of dung from the bosk pens and stuff them into the sacks... but knowing it's of no help for now i bend down and get underneath the wagon in a stooped waddle to reach for the closest of the sacks, strong fingers digging into the rough material and closing in an iron-tight grip as i drag the sack out with me...

...propping the sack upright onto the ground at the wagon i turn around and lean back against the sack in a crouch... reaching over my left shoulder my fingers wrap once more around the top of the sack, the gauntlets only slightly hindering my movements anymore, and pulling the sack a bit up onto my shoulderblades to let it rest there and keep it from swaying as i will carry it...flexing my muscles to get them a bit prepared for the work ahead i slowly stand up with the sack remaining on my broad back as it rides into the air...

..shifting another time and doing a little jump that is accompanied by a grunt between tightly pressed lips as the sack rides up my back for a moment, hanging in the air for an eyeblink and then thudding softly down onto the sqaure of my shoulderblades once more, now in a good position for the carrying as i begin to stride back toward the main fires, where the fuel is needed...

..letting the sack slide slowly down by back as i reach the first of the fires, the last bit of height covering in a fall as i let go of the sack and let it thump down onto the ground with a soft thudd...opening the sack toward the fire i crouch down once more and wrap my strong arms around the sack, thankfull that Mastrer Trel trained my muscles in such a way that they will easily be able to lift the full sack now, but not really that fond of the stench that will be close to my face.. interlacing fingers on the other side of the sack i press my arms together and lift the sack up and a bit forward, letting the first flades sliding out and into the waiting hungry flames...

..peering over the edge of the sack to see how much of the dung tumbles out of it and into the fires, leaning back as the flames lick up high enough on the dry flades to ensure that the fire will be staying up for this day and long into the night...setting the sack down once again the procedure repeats as i turn around again and pull the sack up onto my broad back to carry it over to the next fire...

...leaning back against the sack of dried dung once more i reach back over my shoulder for it once again and hoist it up onto my shoulders, letting it settle before i waddle over to the next of the various fires spread around the main furs... one after the next of those fires is treaded with those dried flecks of dung that will get the fires burning more brightly, the rather earthy smell of the dung somehow reacing in the flames and producing a rather warm and musky smell that spreads throughout the camp, adding to the cozy flair of it..

..with the half empty sack resting a bit more lightly on my shoulders the steps seem a bit more easy again as i circle past all the various smaller and greater fires around the furs, each one getting the same meticiulous care and attention as the first ones, more and more of the dung landing in the hot and crackling embers that glow bright under the little flames that seem to hover above them... content that the light is getting brighter once more and the whole furs seem just a tiny bit more comfortable and inviting..

..taking the nearly empty sack by its bottom, i shake out the last bits and pieces of the dried flakes to tumble into the last of the fires, silently wondering if it's just coincidence that one of those large sacks is just exactly enough to refuel all the fires at the main area...chuckling and just rolling up the empty sack and carrying it swiftly back over to the supplies wagon so that it can be filled with more fuel later again...


na'jida{Shuk/Kar} –- Preparing and Roasting Tumits

bright blue eyes flickers softly against the glaring rays of the sun light as it moves across the plains and strikes upon my small oval face as i slowly descend the wagon steps...peering about the silence of camp as i prowl towards the commissary wagon...narrow hips swaying softly from side to side with each measured graceful step...spotting the freshly killed tumits hanging, i smile as i walk over to them…seeing they have been field dressed and the intestines and inner organs removed, i unfasten the string holding them to a branch and lowers them down...spinning about upon small heels, clutching the birds by the ankles as i pad towards the cook fires...the crackling heat radiating across the smooth honey of flesh as i spot a large pot and wipes it out with a clean cloth, putting the tumits down into the bottom and filling it with fresh water...i hang the pot over the spit of the flames to come to a boil, making the feathers a lot easier to be pulled out

watching tiny bubbles form around the birds in the pot...swinging the pot's bar away from the flames and lifting it from the nitched hooks...sitting the bottom of the pot onto the ground, i tentatively poke a finger onto the feather covered breast on one of the tumits....jerking it out while it's still hot, and laying it down onto a rock...yanking the feathers out vigorously with ease...tossing the bird to one side before turning back and grabbing the second one out of the pot and tossing it onto the rock, snatching out the scalded feathers with smooth skill....feathers flying around my golden head as i work, until every little feather is removed... grabbing the tumits up by thier feet, i pick up the feathers and toss them onto the rock to dry, thinking they'll make a wonderful pillow stuffin when dry...turning and padding off towards the commissary wagon climbing the steps with a saucy swaying bounce of hips ...i reach and push the flap back and slip inside the wagon with the tumits

padding to the basin, first laying the tumits onto the counter, i wash my small hands with clean water and a bar of soap, being sure to scrub beneath each fingernail...i smile as i turn the tiny curve of waist and reach over to the counter to snatch the tumits off by their feet...emptying the water out of the basin and rinsing it out, i add fresh water and plunge the birds over and over into the water, opening a drawer and removing a small kitchen knife, remembering sister said we are allowed to use them...i quickly cut the head off each bird, close to the chest area, and flip the bird over and whack off each hard legged foot…tossing them aside...i pull the drawer back open again and find long metal skewer rods, pushing one down the center cavity of each bird...lifting them from the water, i pivot hips and feet about as i slowly turn and pad to the counter with tonight's meal....laying them down onto a smooth clean cutting board, the metal ends of the skewers protruding as i grin and thump one...giggling as the legs of the bird open and close with the rippling vibration from the thump, i find two pieces of twine and fold the wings on each tumit back and draws the legs in tight as i wrap the twine tight around the birds to hold everything tight together...pushing the heel of my left foot downwards, as i turn and bounce to the chillar...hips twitching with a natural light bounce as i open the door and slip inside with a shiver

bright blue eyes drifts across the room to the shelving... spotting the container of bosk butter, grabbing it and a citrus fruit smiling as i spin around and bounce back out of the chillar and pad back into the servery ...pushing the door shut behind me...i sit the butter and the one citris fruit down onto the counter, prying the lid off the bosk butter, i scoop out some onto long slender fingers and smears it liberally over the outside of both birds...wiping tacky fingers off on a towel cloth, i pick up the small kitchen knife and slice the citrus fruit in half...squeezing one half of the sweet juice over the tumits...stuffing the shell of the fruit inside the body of each bird to allow the pulp to act as a tenderizer on each bird as it cooks...turning and peering up into the pantry, lashes fluttering over sparkling blue orbs, spying the salt and pepper...grabbing the small bottles and sprinkling some over the tumits...sitting the salt and pepper back into the pantry, i clean up the mess...wiping down the counter top...washing up dirty dishes, and drying them one by one, i sit them back inside the cabinet and skips across the room to the chillar with the finished bosk butter....putting it back inside of the chillar, i zip back out with a shiver and a impish giggle…softly shutting the door behind me as i prowl back to the birds...lifting them up off the cutting board by the skewers, i slink through the wagon and out the door...slipping down the steps, i peer up through dark lashes and smiles as i make my way to the cook fires...placing the skewer of each bird onto the spit hanging over the flames to roast slowly and cook to a rich tender brown


angela{Sati} — Gathering Vulo Eggs

~looking around camp with a quiet gaze...the silence almost deafening...rising and moving on long slender legs to the servey...a smile crossing full lips as i see what i am seeking...moving to the basket and stretching my small form up to reach it...fingers wrapping around it as i lift it down from its place and look inside...holding the basket by its handle i slip down the steps of the wagon...the basket swinging at me side as i walk with a step showing my delight at doing something...reaching the vulo wagon and peeking in...chewing a lil on the corner of my bottom lips as i have only ever seen it from a distance before...my nose wrinkling at the strange smell~

~cautiously opening the door and slipping inside...shutting it again quickly so as none of the vulo may escape...looking towards the nesting boxes then moving to the first...seeing the vulo sitting there and looking with pleading eyes to see if it will move for me~

~seeing the vulo just look back at me and tapping my chin with my finger as i think how to get it to move...deciding to try and coax it away...i start talking to it softly~...vulo nice vulo come on...~clicking my fingers and watching it seeing if it moves...when nothing happens i move closer...slowly slipping my small hand towards it then jumping back as it suddenly leaps off the nesting box...emerald eyes like saucers and my chest rising and falling hard from the fright~

~taking a deep breath to calm myself then looking back to the box seeing the egg sitting there...reaching out and taking it from the nesting box and placing it carefully into the basket...moving along the row of boxes, some unoccupied and some empty...collecting the eggs as i go and seeing as i move towards a nesting box that is occupied the vulo moves when i get close...checking the last box and grinning as i see two eggs in it...placing both into the basket then turning and moving back towards the entrance...a happy grin on my face~

~seeing the vulo move away from the entrance i open the door and slip out quickly...moving back towards the servery wagon and climbing the steps then once inside placing the basket upon the bench...moving to the chiller and shivering as the cold air caresses my soft flesh...taking the bowl from the shelf and moving back towards the counter glad of the warmth of the servery...placing the bowl upon the bench and removing the two remaining eggs from it...placing the newly collected eggs into the bowl then returning the other two to the top of the eggs so they will be used first...wrapping my hands around the bowl and carrying it carefully back into the chiller...setting in upon the shelf and moving back into the servery ensure i close the door to the chiller behind me....taking the basket and returning it to its place before checking to see all is as i found it...smiling as i see it is then quietly slipping back out of the servery~


Be aware that the words "chiller," "servery," and the like are no longer used in Maze Tuchuk. We have commissaries and cold wagons.

 

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