Fantasy (Closed/Cancelled) - A Path to Vengeance (RP Thread)

[Kartha_Rolein_Rinari]

The air of the port city carries the scent of a fresh sea breeze. The sun bears down from the west across the dunes of a distant Sandscape, reaching far out into the kingdom of Achuak Iejir. The great port city of Allora bustles with merchants, slavers, commoners of every trade, and more personages of interest. Citizens appear as varying lizardfolk and dragonkin with a minority of other known races including elves, dwarves, humans, gnomes, orcs, and more. It is easy to see where wealth and prosperity fall upon the citizenry with the reptilian populace better dressed, equipped, and in finer health. An occasional non-reptilian individual with wealth is found, though with a ratio of 25:2.

The kingdom of Achuak Iejir is well known for its superlative economy and for its leading dictator; the ancient green dragon Rivosphent. Port cities line the Western coastline along the kingdom's border with the great sea. Ships sail in and out bearing vast quantities of goods and supplies and some bearing great wealth on their return from the Western continent known as The United Empire. Long has the kingdom of Achuak Iejir sought to dominate the global market, and every ship brings Achuak Iejir one step closer to that vast goal.

A ship freshly docked is unloaded by a mixture of races both from across the sea and citizens of the great city. An Elven-looking man, Taliman, of moderate wealth by his guise and wardrobe departs from the ship heading well into the city through the core road along the merchant's path. Stalls are riddled with goods from fine cloth to exotic food. Some merchants appear to offer armor while others offer weapons.

This man flows through the streets as if unmoved by the bantering calls of tradesmen and merchants. The slightly pointed arch of his ears twitches at the calls of an auctioneer near a slave market. Taliman approaches, with obvious disgust born in his eyes and expression. It is unknown if he is disgusted by the slaves or the slavers, by the culture or the intolerance, or by some other unknown presence. He looks upon the gathering of chained individuals, each with a sign around their neck bearing prices in draconic numerical markings.

"Come and see what we have today! Fresh servants for your grand estates! Soldiers for your militias! Heh! Target practice for your own pleasure!" The auctioneer cries out such a crude description of the enslaved as two great serpent-like guards well-armed and armored grab one individual after another and tosses them upon the presentation platform. Those who resist are harshly whipped. Those who try to flee...are slain without warning.

 

[InTheSea]

She stood in the line of slaves, just another number of many. People of all kinds found themselves at the lowest levels of society, though there were few like her. Her focus was inward despite the lack of long hair she once had. It was the only way to get through being sold and bought again and again, feigning obedience until her new masters realized the spirit was still very much wild. Very much unbroken. Some part of her was on alert for orders from merciless guards, for hands grabbing her body so she had time to brace herself, to allow herself to be moved and manipulated.

Mud coated the pelt along her digitigrade legs, weighing her down further as she walked, the extra hindrance of chains only adding to her discomfort. Her cloven hooves were cracked and overgrown, ached like something else and could barely be heard beneath the sound of rattling chains, yelling, laughing, and the occasional snap of a whip. The stench is almost unbearable, despite how long she had to get used to it over the years. No one looked unscathed, at least before her. She learned long ago even making a turn of the head could earn her a lash, and she had enough punishing scars already. The simple stained and filthy long tunic would do little to protect her in the event of a licking, and she wanted to avoid that at all costs.

One by one, people were shoved to the podium and buyers placed their bids. She watched underneath some fawn-colored fringe, brilliant emerald eyes glaring towards the auctioneer who rattled off numbers that were meaningless to her. There was some cheering, some whistles, and some shouting when one of the slaves, obviously newer, fought back. Even one as hardened as her couldn't bear the sound of the whip striking flesh, and she instinctively cringed back at the flurry given to the now painfully shrieking individual.

"I said move!" Someone snarled in her ear; she must have paused just a moment too long. Her scurry allowed her to avoid a lash of her own, the swing striking the ground behind her. As she moved, the chains caught at her ankles and she felt the world shift. Cursing under her breath, she braced herself for the fall. She landed on a straw and mud laden ground, the air forced from her lungs, the sign around her neck biting into her skin. Her ears folded against her head at the resounding sound of laughter, a growl forming in her throat at the indignity of it all.

The growl in her throat turned into a cry of pain before she cut it off forcibly, unwilling to show weakness as a whip cut a slice down her back.

"Clumsy fool!" Came the same, snarling voice in her ears again. Her breath was caught in her chest, the pain raw and lingering. She could barely breathe as she was unceremoniously pulled to her feet and shoved onto the podium. She tripped and fell once more, landing harshly on her knees before the crowd. There was more laughter, even from the auctioneer. She sat hunched over for a brief moment, a mix of rage and pain running through her system. She inhaled through gritted teeth, before raising her head, and glared hotly at the gathered crowd, the dare silent but deadly. The auctioneer grabbed the nearest antler and forced her to stand so the gathered could see her in her entirety. Her chains rattled as she stood up uncomfortably, her head awkwardly tilted.

"A creature of myth stands before you!" He starts with an exaggerated tone to his voice, "A shining example of a true trophy for your collection." His hand holding her antler shook, and her head had no choice but to follow the movement. "I am told this creature can learn the land faster than your dogs, sing sweeter than any maiden, and for those of you looking for a little fun..." He gives a wink, causing some more laughter to shuttle her way, intermingled with whistles and hoots.

"I will start the bidding at 500 gold pieces! This is a rare treasure to behold and worth nothing less!"

 

[RikuXIII]

Quoral tried her best to turn the page of the small book on the floor before her with he manacled hands. These special restraints that added a rigid gauntlet style hand covering to a set of manacles as a way to keep magic users from preforming the necessary hand gestures to cast a spell. That plus a tight gag in Quoral's mouth was the slaver's attempt to keep the dark elf from preforming magic. The fabled dark magic of the Drow were something feared by surface dwellers. Not that Quoral could do any magic anyway. She had cursed Lolth, thus did not have the divine with which to touch the weave. She had not learned the path of the Arcane, thus couldn't fall back on that talent. Even the natural magic of the Drow had been unreliable in the blasted light of the sun. Even without these special anti-mage precautions, Quoral felt sure she would still be caught in the spider's web.
In the precious dim light of a holding room, the former priestess tried to take her mind off her current predicament by readying the scriptures of Eiliestraee. It was all in a small volume written in elvish, obviously designed to be easily concealed. That had confused her until she started studying it. They were meant to be smuggled into the Underdark and dispersed to other Drow, right under the priestess's nose. Quoral had seen a few Drow sacrificed for following other deities than Lolth, so apparently Eiliestraee's faithful were keeping with a stealth approach. That was about as close to a Drow trait as she could find in the book. It spoke of peace, friendship, and redemption. Fairy tale concepts to Quoral's mind, and yet...
She heard the heavy steps of the slavers coming down the hall. Quoral quickly scooped up the book using both hands. Her fingers may have been immobilized, but she could still wedge things in between them. She somewhat clumsily managed to stuff the small volume into her belt. Her outfit was mostly ruined, from sun exposure and the slaver's treatment. But they had already taken anything that looked valuable or shiny off her, so she felt somewhat sure the book and small emblem of the Dark Maiden would remained undiscovered. She hadn't managed to go back to a sleeping position before the slavers came in.
"Rise and shine, silver locks!" One boomed in a loud, almost jovial tone. "You will be coming with us, and don't make a fuss."
The rhyme got a chuckle from the second slaver, and Quoral had to suppress an eye roll. From the way they talked slowly and loudly, she had guessed they assumed she couldn't understand them. Common wasn't a normal language for the Underdark, but Quoral had learned it as best she could with hopes of one day leading a raid against the surface. Knowing how to insult her victims in their own tongue had seemed like a fun idea at the time. It all had. Now? Not so much.
Unlocking the chain connected to Quoral's manacles, the slavers pulled her out of the cell. She knew better than to put up a fight. She had seen plenty of slaves back home. A grim fate was in store for the ones who were openly defiant. So, she had to count on getting out of this another way. As she was pulled out into the street, the former priestess inhaled sharply and squeezed her eyes shut against the blinding radiance of the blasted sun. She managed to partially open one eye, streaming from effort. She still couldn't make out much, but she could at least get a little of information of where she was going. The slavers headed for a line of figures. As they got closer, the partially blinded Quoral was able to identify the line as other slaves. She had been given something that she assumed was a price tag, but she couldn't read it. Captured mages fetched a fine price in the Underdark, so she was likely to be an expensive lot item. But what would the buyer do when they found out their new acquisition couldn't cast? She just had to hope that follower of Eilistraee had a plan to break her out. A prayer would have been appropriate here, but Quoral didn't have one in her.

 

[Gravitational Force]

Before:
"He doesn't look like much, put him in a group sale," the slave appraiser said, not bothering to spare Geren a second glance. Which meant he missed the glare Geren was sending his way. The manacles on his wrists and ankles were the only things preventing him from slaughtering his way to freedom, but that was not apparent to anyone looking at him. Geren encouraged that assessment by playing the part of the fearful captive. In time he'd have his bloody vengeance.

"Are you sure? He looks like he's got enough muscle on him to be worth his own slot," the auctioneer's assistant asked.
The appraiser still didn't look up. "There's nothing more to him. He's yet another nobody who got taken easily. Now send him on his way so we can earn some coin off him."

From there Geren was marched to the holding building for slaves bound for the auction block and roughly shoved towards an empty set of cells. A diverse mass of humanoids surrounded him as he was pushed forwards, but none of them registered as a real threat. Now Geren just had to wait until some idiot bought him, retrieve his gear, kill everyone in the vicinity, and then escape. He just needed to ensure that he continued to be underestimated.

As he finished thinking this Geren accidentally bumped into an Elven slaver leading his own slave into the cells.

His lips curling back in a sneer, the Elf shoved Geren back before smacking him across the face. "Watch where you step, Human."

Geren's eyes narrowed.

The Elf then proceeded to compound his serious mistake into a fatal one. "I realize your species lacks in brains as much it does lifespan, but surely you have enough manners to apologize? I won't even insist you grovel. If not I'm sure the others won't mind me instilling some obviously much-needed discipline into you, oaf."

The guards came running when they heard a sickening snap followed by the sound of something heavy thudding into the ground. They skidded to a halt when they saw Geren standing over the corpse of the Elven slaver and felt the killing intent rolling off him in waves. Looking from the Elf's broken neck to Geren's bloody hands it was obvious what had occurred. Still, it was hard to believe the meek man who'd let himself be manhandled before was also the hardened and remorseless killer standing before them. But here he was, caught literally red-handed.

"He tripped and fell." Geren said, not even trying to be convincing.

The guards managed to overcome their fear in time to carry Geren to the ground and bind him in even tighter chains. The slave appraiser immediately claimed he'd set the whole thing up as a test, the Elven slaver's death was quickly covered up and his property redistributed, and Geren received his own auction slot.

Now:
The auctioneer was making a show of it as usual. Geren longed to throttle him, but the weight from his chains was enough that he could barely move. The slavers had kept adding bindings every time he managed to catch the whip before it could strike him. Not that he needed to move for the purposes of his role in this, Geren's bloodlust was obvious to anyone who looked into his eyes.

"Behold! Before you stands a specimen beyond compare! A welcome addition to any gladiatorial arena or bloodsport, a man who could more accurately be called a monster! He's killed ogres with his bare hands, slain dozens of men at a time, and he's not even in his prime! Worry not for his motivation, for killing itself is his goal! Sworn to a God of Murder, he possess powers of death beyond those of mere mortals!"

Geren almost rolled his eyes. Most of that was outright lies, especially the God of Murder part. Now he wondered how they'd convince the buyers to purchase him if they'd obviously need to worry about him killing them.

"And for those of you who do not believe yourselves capable of taming this bringer of death, for an added price we will happily sell you an obedience collar to assuage your fears."

Shit. Still if it weren't him he'd admit it was a good sell. With luck whoever bought him wouldn't pay extra for the collar or there'd be some way he could get it off. And then everyone here would die horribly.

"Bidding starts at 1,000 gold pieces."

Elsewhere the slave appraiser fell over dead from the poison on the needle Geren had stuck him with when he hadn't been looking. Unfortunately that was the only one Geren had and the poison was quite rare, but he considered this a fair tradeoff given the circumstances.

Right now Geren just needed to wait and see which idiot would try to purchase him.

 

[Kartha_Rolein_Rinari]

Such a fine day settles upon the busy streets of the ancient city. The rush of crowds and the cries of both profit and pain echo upon the free breezes lofting in from the sea as if they themselves are captured by the enslavement of mixed songs. The narrowed eyes of the elf-looking man fixate upon the passersby’s. In this land, marks of draconic ancestry grant respect from those without. However, those with such ancestry, such as the lizard folk city guards, classify others in their own pedigree. To them, Taliman is a mere lowborn outsider. Those who catch him in their gaze treat him as such with mocking expressions and sentiments of disgust.

One step after another through the streets carries him to the core of the city where numerous auctions of flesh and bone angst amongst crowds riddled with greed, passion, and vile intentions. A land where blood is only as good as the gold or silver spent in its obtainment. A narrow emerald serpent slithers up from the inside of his collar and around his neck. The creature comes to rest its head upon his shoulder while gawking around at those surrounding its Master. He obtains a small portion of meat from a pouch around his waist. His fine, tanned leather gloves coat his fingers against the weather and other indeterminant indiscretions. The snake takes the meat and swallows down the meal after which flicking its tongue to demonstrate satisfaction.

“Shall we see what is to become of these sad, unfortunate souls my dear Velairia?” Taliman offers the question in a redundant manner. The day will prove long as he visits numerous blocks.

---Vys, The Glassdancer---​

Approaching the block with a rather disgusted perspective, Taliman observes the sales of the meat stacked up on the block one body at a time. Observing the quarrel in the line leading up to the next opportunity, he notes the unique attraction the specimen inspires in the crows around him. He slips his right hand to his side. Fiddling with a satchel, he obtains a solid wood pipe with a metal base bearing an elven sigil upon its side. He sets some tobacco into the pipe base. With a small flick of his fingers, he ignites the pipe. A few puffs and the tobacco is well underway. He exhales his first puff just as the Satyr girl is brought upon the block.

“She has spirit.” He states softly as if to himself, but his intended comment is toward his serpentine associate. She slithers along up the back of his head and rests upon his forehead looking more over the crowd toward the block. He listens to the initial auction cry for 500 gold and almost coughs. Such an opening bid is strong, though there are few such as this one to compare. He tilts his serpentine eyes up toward his slithering associate who looks down at him. She flicks her tongue once.

“You do realize I just arrived today, yes? If I start flaunting my gold around so soon…” She flicks her tongue at his eye, though far away from a strike. He blinks and smirks a little bit. “Oh yes. Let us be reckless.” He states with a soft snicker to himself. He looks back to the block. A few individuals had likely shouted some offers whilst he endured his associate’s council, but it would be no matter. These events always suffered conservatives—individuals looking to raise their offers in small increments to attain the best deal possible without boasting more than they wish others to know.

“One thousand!” Taliman shouts. He did not care if the bid was at 550 or 700. He hoped to put an end to this show as swiftly as possible.

---Quoral Yntrani---​

Knowing the rule of thumb on collections being at the end of the daily market, Taliman contemplates the results of his previous experience amongst the auctions and whatever results occurred. Pressing on, he takes his next turn toward a second auction block. At least, the second of his visits as there are dozens of blocks throughout the core market area.

“…what is that?” Taliman stops in his tracks as he suddenly notices the presence of a drow amongst the line of slaves. A female at that! How a female drow came into slavery is certainly beyond his scope of imagination, though he cannot imagine such an individual enduring such torture as this. Taliman would certainly not stand for the suffering of others if he can help it, though in this land he must endure it to survive. That said, unique cases such as this beg for his attention and even his aid if he can offer.

With a quickened stride, he makes his way toward the line of slaves but is brought to a halt by one of the guards paid to protect the prospects. A gruff-looking human of stocked tone and firm demeanor. Taliman pauses without persistence and turns his head to the man's hand upon his shoulder. He then turns his eyes to the man who immediately notes the emerald serpentine eyes.

“Oh. My Lord. I…I apologize. But, you cannot pass. These are the property of Hextus Orlang. You may observe and bid as they…” Before the human can finish his speech, a small pouch of silver lands in his hand. Taliman moves forward unhindered and makes his way toward the auction master reading himself for the event of bartering flesh for gold.

“You there. I will spare you the time and energy of presenting that Drow for a pittance if you will sell her to me for double the asking price.” Taliman attempts to use his more persuasive tenure to garner an edge with the hope of immediate success.

---Geren Norz---​

Two events of unique exuberance bring Taliman to an internal state of contemplating the likes of which he did not intend. At least not on his first day in the city. Feeling himself a little more outside of a state of security than he had hoped, he decides to pass on further engagements amongst the auction blocks. Of course, fate never allows those destined for great things to ignore opportunities. This final stroll on his way out of the market bears no exception.

The description of a formidable assassin and physical titan attend to his long elven ears. His ears arch as he turns his head to catch the man in his gaze. A formidable-looking individual indeed and one in need of special restriction to ensure obedience. In his own experience, those requiring such restrictions are limited for reasons well outside of disclosure. Indeed, if he were ever in such a position, such limitations might be applied to him due to his arcane nature and his seething desire to rebel. However, how much more attention can he risk at this point?

He contemplates the situation and the man himself. Perhaps an opportunity for less flaunting and more diplomacy is presenting itself. Taliman steps forward through the crowd. Most of them permit his passing due to the presence of his scale patches and serpentine eyes. The smoke of his pipe wafts gently over his face and dissipates upward.

“One thousand for this…human? My dear sir, they started a bid upon a Satyr girl at five-hundred past auction block nine. Now…I can understand for a specimen of such rarity, but you are boasting of a human with the skills to kill. Hah! What human cannot kill? Now can he kill with skill? There is an investment. A special skill? I place that on the level of a Satyr girl. That said, at best I offer seven hundred, but I dare say more is a waste of money.” He says these words loudly from his stance in the crowd. A dual play to dissuade others from bidding, to decrease the price, and obtain the man in one swoop. It is a bold play, but Talimans' confidence in his way with words sometimes pays off.

 

[InTheSea]

The crowd murmured, as they usually do when in discussion amongst themselves. She could hear some less off folk vocally imagine what they'd do with a Faun like her. Usually it was tasteless, and those were the people she feared the most. After some short deliberation, someone shouted, "500!" to get the bidding off to a start. Naturally, Vys shifted her eyes in the direction of the voice, her glaring gaze taking in the individual who decided her life something they desired. But beyond that, there was little she could make out about anyone's true intentions.

But then again, everyone was the same, of course.

Whether they had scales or not, free people who even though of entering these markets only had one thing in mind, and that meant, to her, that they were all scum. He would use a harsh voice, a harsher hand. He would demand like all the others and beat her senseless the moment she disobeyed. Her life was a thing to be bought and sold, and anyone who wanted it was a less than savory person. Always.

"525!" Someone else shouted, but the first person immediately retorted with a "550!" Some people laughed, thoroughly enjoying themselves in the midst of their own ignorance. In this world, in this place, she knew people had little regard for others. Once one earned the title of slave, there were very few ways of shedding it, and all of them were extremely dangerous. She had tried and failed numerous times herself, but not once did anyone think of ending her life for her continued rebellion.

"You're too valuable," A previous Master has stated once. She couldn't quite remember what had happened that day, she only knew she had the scars and words to remind her of it.

"600!" Vys glanced at the new bidder, pushing the bid higher than even she expected. Five hundred gold was an obscenely large amount. The average citizen had maybe fifty if they were lucky. These people with their sacks of gold made a living off of abusing and enslaving people like her. It made her feel sick, in the beginning, but over time she became numb to it. She thoroughly believed that those who had suffered as she had would get their revenge, whether by their own hands or by the fate of destiny.

"Do I hear 625?" The Auctioneer called out, encouraging others to bid. He seemed disappointed for a moment, but a quieter individual flicked their hand in that silent manner that meant they would join in. Vys could sense the excitement bubbling in the man peddling her off. Even they were all the same, obsessed with gold and numbers and shouting with a weird tone to their voices. She couldn't even understand them sometimes.

"I think I should go for it," Vys' ear twitched as someone standing close to the platform muttered to someone standing near them. This time it was a woman. "Cleaning her up and she would be the perfect addition to my collection, don't you think?" Woman often seemed interested in her, but men usually seemed to be the ones more willing to spend their money. Woman were also wildcards. While men were pretty predictable in their desires, women were much less so.

"650!" The woman finally shouted, but the man who bid previously laughed and yelled towards her, "What does a woman need a Faun for? Leave the exotic ones for us! 675!"

"A woman who takes pride in her collection could only hope to add to it, good sir," She grinned back at him, "Cleaned up, this one could make the keystone!" A wink was given, before she yelled "700!" The crowd laughed at the exchange, and Vys practically groaned. She couldn't say what was worse, working her tail off all day or being prettied up and put on display. At least the former let her move around and kept up her physical strength, which she knew she absolutely needed.

"One thousand!" ​

Even Vys was a little struck by the price. She looked up towards the person, a blond, elf-like man. Elf-like was the best way to describe it, but he still disgusted her none the less with the green scaled patch marring his face. It was either a very intricate work of ink, of which she wouldn't discount, or they were in fact scales. Somehow she knew it was the latter. The similarly green snake that curled around his neck seemed to be an indicator of what he was.

He was a snake like the rest, she was sure of it.

"Do we have a bid of 1025?" None of the previous bidders piped up, either unwilling to spend the gold or intimidated by the newcomer's outrageous bid. All the while, the auctioneer looked giddy as he stood beside his prize. It seemed to be more than he thought she would go for, and there was a possibility someone would counterbid. But as he lowered the asking from 1025 to 1010 and finally to 1005, he counted the final seconds as was customary.

"Going once, going twice....SOLD for one thousand gold pieces! We'll get her cleaned up for you, sir!" The Auctioneer grinned at Taliman as Vys was grabbed from the platform and lead away. She didn't even bother to look back towards the man who would be her new Master; she would get to know him soon enough.

"Hurray..." She grumbled at the thought, the guard who was leading her shoving her into one of the many holding cages for sold slaves. For some reason, the cage she was lead to was empty, but the floor was soaking wet. As she turned to face the door, a wall of water entered her vision. She reacted quick enough to duck her eyes, but she still ended up getting soaked. The fact that the chains covering her person might suffer rust pleased her.

"Can't have you dirty for your new master, can we?" The scaled guard cackled as he tossed another bucket of water at her, though this time she was prepared and turned to let it soak her back. With what little movement she had, she worked out some of the mud caking her legs. The guard wasn't particularly happy that he didn't get a reaction out of her, but took satisfaction that the girl struggled to clean up. One last bucket of water was thrown at her which almost made her topple over from lack of balance before she was grabbed from the cage and lead to one where she could dry off.

Whether a subtle punishment for her lack of reaction to the 'bath' or because it was the only small cage left, Vys was shoved into a single person cage in the shadows after the board was removed from her neck and placed on the cage itself. The board was then marked as SOLD.

The girl sighed, crouching down to relax until she was claimed. At least she didn't have to deal with anyone until the hour she could be retrieved.

 

[RikuXIII]

Quoral would often rest her eyes against the blinding glare of the sun. She knew not to do it for too long, for fear of missing when the line of slaves would be made to move. It was during one of these stolen moments of reprieve that she heard the word "drow" uttered. She forced her eyes opened and squinted around. The best she could make out was a figure with golden hair speaking to one of the slavers. He was apparently looking to buy her before she made it up to the auction block. Why? She felt an odd flutter in her heart when the idea of this being part of the plans of Eilistraee's faithful. But that was hardly certain, and this could be bad if this... person was a slave with power.
The auction master, a human with a pockmarked face and spectacles, peered at Taliman. He initially looked annoyed, but he slipped into a more diplomatic expression that became a little more deferential when he seemed to properly perceive the green scale pattern around Taliman's left eye.
"Well, sir, this is a little irregular." The auction master said apologetically. "We usually don't allow merchandise to be sold off before the make it to the block. But, we might be able to make an exception in your case."
He moved towards Quoral, pushing up his glasses to better read the sign around her neck.
"She is an exotic, yet dangerous species, sir. Legends of Drow magic are....well, legendary. She was taken by surprise, thus she hasn't been able to unleash her dark powers. Because of all this, we are planning on starting the bidding at 1200 gold. So, you would be offering 2400 gold."
The auction master's face lightened up as he headed back to his podium.
"Considering she may be difficult to control, we would like to recommend also purchasing an enchanted slave collar. It's another 1000 pieces of gold, but it will provide an easy to use and understand means of ensuring obedience from such an exotic and dangerous specimen!"
Quoral wasn't exactly happy with what she was hearing. Her pride prickled at the price, thinking a priestess of Lolth was worth more than that. But that was if she still had the Spider Queen's favor. If this person was not part of a plan to get her out of here, and he went for the collar, she would be spider food, sure enough.

 

[Gravitational Force]

The Auctioneer could see where this was going and he didn't like it.
"'Skill?' Of course this slave has skill. You should have seen the fight he put up just getting him to the auction block! He's capable of snapping necks with his bare hands and I have no doubt he'd be even more dangerous with a weapon in his hands! An excellent addition to any gladiator game or bloodsport! 1000 gold pieces is nothing compared to what he could bring in from the crowds he'd draw in to watch him fight! "

A 'recruiter' for a gladiatorial arena listening with interest noticed Taliman's attempt to drive down the price and seized on it.
"And have him strangle me in my sleep? Either he's as dangerous as you claim and thus will cost even more to guard him or he's just more fighting pit-fodder in which case it's absurd to ask for as much as you're asking."

He gestures to Taliman.
"And I must insist you apologize to this poor man and bring down your price."

Turning to Taliman he continued.
"Please pay no attention to this and save your money. I can see this man is worth no more than 100 gold pieces at most. And even then he'd likely prove far too much for someone as inexperienced as you to handle."

The Auctioneer bristled. He was NOT losing this sale, even if he'd been backed into a corner he still had ways to get the price back up.
"I can not only assure you of this slave's skills, I can show how he can be handled. I'll have an obedience collar brought out and demonstrate it's use. I warn you though, the bidding will rise quickly when those gathered here witness a display of his martial might and how willing to serve he'll become with the obedience collar."

Geren listened and realized that right now drastic action was necessary. Luckily it appeared none of the buyers were local, so a bluff should work. The Auctioneer had puffed himself up, time to puncture him. He cleared his throat and waited until the buyers' attention shifted to him.
"He''s lying. It's all a scam. He told me to do whatever he said or he'd torture me, there's no power in the collar. This is just how he tries to drive up the price, he knows you won't be back to complain because he told me to kill you and run once I got the chance."

The Auctioneer's face turned red and he turned to try to get Geren under control when he realized the potential buyers were looking at him suspiciously. He put up his hands in a placating gesture.
"He's just lying, I can assure you that seeing the obedience collar in action will more than allay any worries you might have."

Geren kept going.
"There is no such thing as an obedience collar. He's just going to use his own magic to force me to do or say whatever he wants while claiming it's the collar."

The Auctioneer lost his temper. He strode onto the platform, only for Geren to enact the second part of his escape plan.

Drawing upon the power granted to him by the pacts he'd made Geren slipped momentarily onto the Ethereal Plane. From there he stepped out of his chains before he was forced back onto the Material Plane. Seizing a length of chain he swung it around the neck of the Auctioneer before pulling it tight. Hurling the other end off the stage (pulling the Auctioneer with it) Geren made a run for it.

Gasping for air the Auctioneer reached out to Taliman from the ground. "You can have him for 700 if you can catch him!"

 

[Kartha_Rolein_Rinari]

---Vys, The Glassdancer---​

Taliman observes those around him as the bidding continues until he uttered his absurdly high bid for the female faun. As the moments wind down with the auctioneer eager to see the coin elevate further, Taliman is rather satisfied, based upon the reactions of the crowd, that he will not see anyone challenge his exorbitant number. He hears the auctioneer end the grand display to sell the fauns flesh for coin with Talimans' offer sealed and the deal is done. Taliman sighs some relief, knowing those around him wished to do unspeakable things to the poor creature.

“Thank you. I will be around this evening to collect her.” He states before turning away. He had attempted to offer the girl some kind gesture and smile, but she was so quickly ushered off the platform so the process of selling others could continue and grow the slaver's pockets further.

“Well…there you have it, my dear.” He mutters softly to his slithering associate upon his shoulder. He raises his right hand and gently rubs the base of her chin with his fine leather-gloved fingertip. Velairia hisses softly back at him while nuzzling his finger for the few moments he provides its presence. Taliman turns and makes his way onward through the market, exploring the other auction blocks available.

---Quoral Yntrani---​

Taliman tilts his head in a manner befitting a gentleman of high rank and superb wealth. Knowing well his initial offer was designed to capture the auctioneer's attention, and accepting the deal at so grand a price would certainly warrant suspicion, Taliman attempts to play off the description the man provides to his own advantage in negotiations.

“Hm…she is much more passive than the Drow women I have met before in my travels.” He comments upon her attitude, first. A Drow female fallen from the grace of Lothl is sure to fetch a far less price. He rubs his finger over his chin a moment as he approaches the woman to look her over. His expression is rich with the common analysis of a man in the market for a product. Despite his loathing of slavery, Taliman is a proven merchant in other goods and knows such expressions and imitations well.

“Dos zhal'la vess lu'cha'kohk a ukta. Ol zhah feir mzild rivvin taga nindol sel'tur arlathil d'dossta. Xal mziln xxizz uns'aa doeb, 'zil Usstan inth ulu xxizz dos.” (translated from Drow: You should spit and curse at me. It is far more common than this soft nature of yours. Might also help me out, as I plan to help you.) Being the son of a wealthy diplomat and having the benefit of innate ability, upbringing, and quality education, Taliman is versed in nearly a dozen languages, if not more. He attempts to prove his knowledge of Drow culture to the potentially ignorant auction master in hopes of proving his own wealth of knowledge as well as attempting to seek hidden assistance from the female.

“Hm. Double maybe too much. I’ll offer two thousand gold for a private sale to a…” He smirks at the man a moment. “…influential party.” Whether or not she takes the rather direct hint, Taliman makes a move to obtain her at less than the doubled price by combining her action (if taken) and his bloodline as well as the steep increased price.

---Geren Norz---​

Taliman rather…stands there for a moment while this situation unfolds. The chaos proves a little amusing for him. The efforts of the others to decrease the bid further simply prove himself a little more successful than anticipated. Of course, once Geren assaults the auction master and makes a run for it after displaying such skill, the price drop is likely to rise quickly once again. Unexpectedly, the auction master requests Talimans’ aid and with a significant discount more appropriate to his liking.

“Do I look like a common mercenary to you?” He asks quickly at first, then turns and starts walking after the man. “I’ll be back with him, and 600 gold coins.” He adds as he steers after the escaping Geren. He quickly moves into a steady trot as he follows after the man or attempts to at least.

“Speaking this way has its risks, but you need to know I am your ally. If the guards catch you, a human, it will be death for escape. By law, you are bound to slavery while in this land, but I am no slaver. Trust me enough to test me; at least to save your life.” Taliman moves quickly, trying to keep in range of Geren as best as possible so his whisper spell will reach the man. Taliman keeps his head down a little to mask his lips in case of prying eyes and ears.

 

[Gravitational Force]

Geren's eyes narrow as he hurries down a nearby alley and ducks behind the corner. It's incredibly unlikely whoever is speaking to him through this spell is being sincere, but there's an easy way to find out. He's killed spellcasters before and while their magic gave them plenty of ways to avoid his usual methods of dealing death Geren could usually find a way around it. The element of surprise was key.

Reaching into his mouth Geren regurgitates the Bag of Holding in his stomach and reaches into it. To an observer it would appear Geren's pulled a sword out of his mouth but in actuality he's making use of an extra-dimensional space. But he doesn't have time to do more than that, his pursuer is hot on his heels. Best to deal with him now one way or another.

As Taliman rounds the corner Geren grabs him and shoves him into the wall, Geren's blade pressed so that it'll cut through both Taliman and his familiar if the spellcaster tries anything. Even if the scaled humanoid has teleportation magic or some other means of escaping using it will give Geren enough time to either kill him or make good his escape if he tries it.

"You've got seconds. Make your case for why I shouldn't kill you right here and now," Geren growls. He's less intimidating than he would be given that he's still wearing the rags he'd been sent to the auction block in, but his weapon backs up his threat nicely. Geren decides if he does need to kill this man he'll use his clothing as a disguise. He'll just need to make sure he doesn't spill too much blood on his outfit when he ends his life.

 

[InTheSea]

It was chilly in the shadows of her holding cell, what with being wet from her impromptu shower, but she had endured worse and pushed the discomfort from her mind. It was also a relief to get much of the mud caking her legs off, as it was uncomfortably clinging to her fur. It was also a rare time of peace where she felt like she could sit and think without worrying about being told off or beaten. There was little time for such things, even when she was doing labor work. Having little moments to herself were rare, and she didn't waste any time when those moments finally came.

She contemplated what her new purpose would be.

Would the scaled elf man want her for insidious reasons, would she become another trophy for his collection, or would she be working in some way? The first was the worst option, and she was unable to get a good read on him to understand his intentions. He himself seemed exotic, so the possibility she was just an exotic piece to his assemblage seemed high. What a boring life it would be, she thought. But maybe he just needed a worker. She wasn't the strongest creature, not even the strongest among her kind. But being able to work on something had major benefits even if it made her tired. Maybe she'd be left alone, wouldn't that be a miracle?

The faun let out a sigh, leaning back against the bars. The sun was slowly nearing the horizon, and it was only a matter of time before her new master would come to collect her. And with each creeping moment, she could feel the ripples of anxiety coursing through her. Being sold and bought was always a scary time, wondering what was to become of her, if she will even survive this time. Though based on how much she was bought for, there wasn't much chance this scaled-elf man would kill her for disobedience. Unless he really had a disposable income, that is.

The sun sunk farther and farther, casting more of her into shadow. She shivered slightly, both from the chill in the air and the anticipation of the next chapter of her life.

 

[RikuXIII]

Quoral eyes went wide for an instant before squeezing shut again. The surface dweller knew Undercommon! That must mean he was from Eilistree's faithful! Why they would trust a male with this was beyond her, but one couldn't be too choosy about what form rescue came in. Not in her state and position. Taking a quick look through the light, she spat at the half-elf. She was aiming for the green patch on his face, but with her being partially blinded, it might just miss. She used a few choice oaths and threats of the Spider Queen. Between such oaths in the same tone, she bit out in undercommon,
"Threat of disease!"
The former cleric just had to hope this rescuer was fast enough to pick up on the idea. As expected, one of the slavers near by stepped up and brought down his whip. Quoral took the blow with a yelp of pain she only had to play up a little. Not pleasant, but worth it to get out of here. As she slunk back, she tried a few hacking coughs into her hand.
"I am so sorry, my lord." The auction master said, bustling up to Talisman. "Some of these slaves have not been properly broken."
While he seemed occupied with Quoral's show of spirit, Talisman could detect in his tone and demeanor that the prospect of having the favor of someone of influence was weighing heavily on the auction master's mind, to the point that all other thoughts seemed to orbit it. But he seemed troubled.
"I suppose for a gentlemen of respectability such as yourself, 2000 gold would be sufficient...but this is a rare catch. Plus, I once again urge your some consideration for magical restraints. Who knows what she will be capable off once unshackled."
Talisman could probably see that the auction master was close to giving in. But he was a salesmen. Haggling and trying to get the customer to spend more was all part of the trade.

 

[Kartha_Rolein_Rinari]

---Vys, The Glassdancer---​

Taliman had not lost the thought of the female Satyr in his mind. A male one is rare enough as it is let alone a female. He thinks upon what her skills could be—whether she shares in the common theatrical abilities of her kin or if she is something else. The idea fancies his mind. The opportunity to learn and experience something new. Of course, he considers the possibility of her sole desire to simply flee from him. Such an occurrence would prove wasteful considering the finely strict laws on slaves in the kingdom. Knowing what possible future she could have had with one of the other bidders is bad enough in his mind; he only hopes he will be able to offer her the option of being in his service to keep her content.

---Quoral Yntrani---​

Taliman raises his right hand gently to his chin as he listens to the auction masters’ words of wisdom and greed. In many cases, a binding shackle such as what he suggests is indeed wise. However, Taliman needs to make the sale for the sake of his rare individual for her own good while keeping up the rouse and keeping his pockets filled as much as possible.

“Hm…true.” He softly utters as he approaches the woman. He takes on a firm and formidable posture; one of grace yet obvious superiority. Having been raised with a regal-like mindset, such a posture is not beyond him expressing in a natural manner.

“Flohlu ussta nau'thal.” (Follow my lead.) Taliman speaks to the Drow once more in her own tongue yet does so in a commanding tone. He reaches for her chin and takes hold. He spends a few moments looking her over as any potential buyer would do in his case. “Tril ussta vress'ol.” (Bite my finger). He attempts to keep up the rouse by telling her what to do in his efforts to manipulate them further. Assuming she does, he immediately withdraws his hand and growls a bit in an angry manner.

“Defiant wretch. I think I would rather break her than make it easy with some necklace.” He states in a firm, resolute tone. Taliman utters some words in draconic as he attempts to then enchant her with his next command.

“S'tharl.” (Sit.) Unfortunately, he needs to cast the spell of suggestion so the reality is authentic, but even if she can resist the spell itself, as she is Drow with higher resistance to magic than most other humanoids, she may still perform based on his guided effort. His goal is to prove to the auction master he does not need the collar to control her.

---Geren Norz---​

Taliman rounds the corner and is immediately obtained by the fleeing slave with the ability to manipulate the shadows and flow through solid matter. He slowly raises his arms in the air, acting the defenseless individual for the time being though his tricks are readily available if needed. His slithering associate remains still and simply stares at Geren with her slitted serpentine eyes. Her tongue flicks a little as she does little else to avoid provoking him.

“Ah…to the point.” He attempts to muse a little as he gently gestures to the blade held to him with his back against the wall. “Good then. First, run and you die. The city is vast. You are in its heart. Second, killing me secures you a terribly slow death. Neither of these options serves the betterment of your future self. Lastly, with me, you will have more freedom than any other as an…enforcer of sorts. I can secure your future, fund your lifestyle, and eventually establish your freedom when my business in this kingdom has run its course.” Taliman is blunt, open, and…honest. Any efforts made by this wayward assassin to read the man would prove authenticity in his tone and intentions.

As they stand in the alley, the sound of drac-hounds starts to fill the surrounding streets. The faint sounds of hissing and clambering boots arise to echo between the buildings.

“Ah…hasty choices to be made if I am to have any power in saving your life. Tick-tock, my friend.”

 

[RikuXIII]

Quoral heard Taliman's instruction and played along, biting his finger when in range. This seemed risky and required trust in this unknown male. But it wasn't like she had any other prospects of escape currently. The other shoe dropped when she felt the magically infused words worm their way into her brain. Her instincts and pride caused her to fight against it, but if this was part of the plan....
Damn him.
The former priestess did her best to sit on the ground, the look of anger she shot Taliman quite genuine. But she hung her head as if she was defeated, though this was also not much of an act. Powerless and at the mercy of lessor races. Being sacrificed Lolth was still the worse fate, but her current situation was slightly improving the looks of that fate.
The auction master gulped at the apparent display of power from the green scaled half elf.
"I see you are not in need of...um, extra equipment, my lord." He said quickly.
He scuttled over to his podium and started filling out some paper work.
"I will gladly accept your generous offer and just require the, heh, coins to complete the transaction."
As he spoke, we waved the guards over to unlock Quoral from the rest of the slaves. Remebering the last detail, the auction master pulled out a section of keys, selected one and offered it to Taliman.
"This will unlock her restraints when you are ready, my lord."
Quoral slumped a little as this was going on. It benefited the broken slave act, but in reality it was from relief. The slavers had bought the act and she was getting sold to someone who was apparently trying to help her. Was this what the Dark Maiden smiling on you felt like?

 

[Gravitational Force]

Geren didn't want it to be the truth, but he could tell his would-be buyer was telling it. And he was faking being defenseless. Right now it seemed Geren's best option lay with whoever this was.

The man clearly wasn't Human, but Geren couldn't tell what he was. His magical abilities further complicated things. As it was he had nowhere near enough information, but it definitely seemed killing him here would be a mistake, no matter how much he'd prefer it. But Geren didn't have any good options, so this was what was left to do. He'd play along for now, he could always kill the man later.

Geren pulls his sword back.
"We'll do things your way for now. So what's your plan?"

(I'll assume Geren was the last one acquired, so Taliman already has Vys and Quoral)

Geren looks over his new employer's (Geren would gut the scaled half-elf before referring to the slaver as his 'Master') new 'companions.' Clearly they'd just been brought together, none of them looked like they trusted the others. Hmm, a Drow and a being he'd never seen before. Either way, no reason to assume there would be any real cooperation. This would be another stretch of Geren's life where he'd have to assume everyone around him was looking to stab him the back. And look for any opportunities to do it first.

Still, it was good to be out of the rags he'd been wearing and back in his usual gear. Geren wasn't currently wearing his mask though, it'd draw too much attention and he didn't want any association between it and his real face. Pulling out his Decanter of Endless Beverages he took a long drink of apple cider.

 

[InTheSea]

She was unsure as to the time it was, having dosed off in her little peaceful cage all alone in the shadows. A sudden nearing thumping had her suddenly at alert however, tension taking hold of her body as she remembered where she was and the predicament she was in. She cursed under her breath for allowing her mind to wander to better times, times she wasn't quite sure she could ever return to. Even the dull throb of the lash came back to her as a sore reminder.

"Good news! Your Master has returned for you." It was the same guard from earlier who had given her the undignified bath. Glee riddled his voice as his fingers toyed with a set of keys that jingled not unlike a bag of coin. Upon selecting the correct key for her prison, he released her. The faun cautiously stepped out from her small cage, giving her legs a stretch. The guard grabbed the chain that connected her hands and pulled her along behind him. She winced ever so slightly at the manacles biting into her skin, hoping that her new master would require such a thing on their journey to wherever he lived. It didn't take long to make their way out from the holding area for sold slaves, and the Guard rounded the corner to where Taliman waited.

And her new master did not appear to be alone.

A silver haired woman stood by his side, a creature Vys wasn't quite keen on. But judging on her appearance, she looked to have been in the same situation Vys herself was in. The faun wondered if she even had a right to judge the other would-be slave, they were pretty much all in this together now. The Guard turned her towards him and he unlocked the bonds along her limbs, allowing Vys to finally rub her tender wrists.

"Quite the collection you're starting." The Guard commented, looking between Quoral and Vys. "Come back soon!" The Guard flashed Taliman a grin again before he turned off to retrieve another purchase. Vys avoided eye contact with her new master and went to stand nearer to the Drow woman.

 

[Kartha_Rolein_Rinari]

Taliman reaches to his waist and removes a sack full of coins from one of the pouches upon his belt. A rather large sack from such a small container, but then again Taliman is skilled in magic. The slaver seems to give this little thought or consideration, considering the obvious ancestry shown from Talimans’ scale patches. As soon as Taliman is given the keys for the Drows’ manacles, he walks up to her and removes them with little consideration for the opinion of the slaver.

“M-my Lord? Do you, perhaps…” Before the slaver could even finish his question, the restraints are removed from the Drows’ hands. Taliman pays little attention to the slaver other than tossing the manacles and the pouch of coin toward him. The slaver is beyond pleased when he reaches in and finds it full of not gold, but platinum coins to the amount agreed upon in gold. “Thank you, my Lord!” Whatever the Drow happens to do now is rests on Talimans’ shoulders.

“Doer xuil uns'aa. Mora 'zil natha rothe, jhal Usstan orn morfeth zhaunus dos inbal natha nir' el lu'ofil'nisha. Doer.” (Come with me. Act as a slave, but I will make sure you have a bath and clothes. Come.) Taliman speaks to the woman in her own tongue and turns around to depart as a Master would with the expectation of his slave to follow in toe. Of course, he has another to rescue from the bonds of slavery before they can move on with their lives. “Usstan z'klaen vrine'winith lu'bura'u byrren. Zexen'uma veir ulu uns'aa lu'remos venorik whol dosst ehmtu bwael.” (I must stop and obtain others. Stay close to me and remain silent for your own good.) Taliman speaks once more as they depart so Quoral knows the situation.

A bit later, Taliman arrives to collect the faun with his left leather-gloved hand slightly covering his face. Despite his desire to keep up appearances, and despite the attempts by the slavers to ‘clean’ their captives, Taliman could not stand the stench. Internally, he certainly felt pleased with himself in being able to take Vys away from the pits. Upon his arrival near her cage, he turns his head to the guard. With the guard shouting, Taliman offers a nod of his head to acknowledge the situation. Taliman keeps his visual tone neutral but superior to keep the illusion going.

“Yes…quite the collection indeed.” Taliman adds as the Guard takes his leave of them. Uncertain of the Fauns' linguistic skills, he attempts to remain generic in his words toward her. “I will have you bathed and clothed properly. Stay close to me, and silent for your own good until we are away from prying eyes and ears.” The tone of his voice is soft and compassionate in nature. Taliman hopes these words will sound less damning to the Faun and more filled with relief. “Come.” He says to them both—not yet certain if the Drow knows common, but certain she will understand the need to follow him as he moves from this den of debauchery.

Of course, when the guards arrived and Geren was in tow, they remained suspicious of the situation. However, Taliman had managed to secure the man’s trust…if only for the moment. Taliman paid the slave master the agreed-upon amount, at the discount of Talimans choosing before he chased Geren down. With the three of them away from the prying eyes, Geren proceeded with his internal observations.

Taliman would lead the three of them to a rather swanky-looking Inn on the mid-upper scale of prosperity within the city. Taliman had secured himself a room, and also the best slave holds available for his entourage. In this case, actual rooms. Of course, these rooms are bare-bones with a clean cot, water bowl, bucket for obvious purposes, and walls for privacy. In a place such as this, a slave could consider themselves in wealthy company for such accommodations.

Before securing them in their rooms as is appropriate by the laws of the city, Taliman finds a quiet location in the nearby alley where he engages a temporary enchantment for private conversation amongst the three of them. Though potentially suspicious, the range of the enchantment falls well within the confines of the alley itself so there is little chance of the magic itself being discovered so long as they do not linger.

Taliman rolls a barrel around and takes a seat. His slithering companion slides down his arm and rests upon his knee. He strikes a small flicker in his pipe and gets the smoke puffing to appear as a common man with his slaves having a conversation for any potentially prying eyes from the street.

“Now then…time to know a bit more about you all.” He states in common first, then for the benefit of the Drow he speaks to her in her own tongue. “I am Taliman Lothloerien from across the sea; son of a former diplomat and sorcerer. First…if we can find a common language, we all understand, that will make things easier.” He adds, and again translates his words for the Drow.

 

[Gravitational Force]

Geren saw no reason to reveal too much. Still, why sell himself short?

"I'm not giving my name to anyone I don't trust, but here's what I will tell you: I deal in violence, preferably swiftly and stealthily. And I've got the skills necessary to get past obstacles between me and my target. I've yet to meet anyone better at what I do. Otherwise I can hold my own in a fight. And I expect to be paid for any work I do for you."

If a fight broke out here Geren would take out whoever directly threatened him first, then clean up whoever remained. There was no reason to leave anyone here alive if Taliman died and he wasn't leaving the man alive if he could help it. Unless his 'master' paid enough to make it worth it. And could keep his mouth shut. The latter was very much in doubt.

 

[InTheSea]

Vys did little more than twitch her ears to acknowledge Talimans promise of a bath and proper clothing. She did not comment on staying quiet. Part of her almost wanted to say something for the sake of not being quiet. But she was tired, sore, and not up for an argument. And where had she heard similar promises before? Stifling a scoff, the faun followed her new Master alongside the enslaved Drow, casting a quick, side-ways glance at the other female before returning her eyes to the ground.

The third slave would not have been interesting if not for the fact her Master had to literally chase the man down after trying to secure payment for him. She was nothing less than surprised that the man was even still alive, and her Master seemed adamant on keeping him. It made her insecure as to the mans abilities and what he could do to her, but she hoped the scaled man could keep a leash on him if at least a short time.

More time passed, now three slaves behind a scaled Master, and they were given quarters. Vys hide her impressed feelings, mostly because she thought it a facade. But she wouldn't snub it if she could help it, it was better than anything she had slept in thus far since her initial capture. Unfortunately for her, she is unable to to succumb to slumber as their Master seemed to require something of them outside of their rooms, and she finds herself, alongside the others, within an alley. Still silent, yet watchful, Vys feels her pulse race. She is ready for anything, except perhaps for the laxity of her Master and conversation that follows.

Luckily for Taliman, Vys is fluent in common; she had little choice but to learn during her bondage. She does not make eye contact, but the twist of her ears would be enough to enlighten Taliman to the fact she was listening. She glances to the Drow when the strange tongue is spoken, but she doesn't let her gaze linger on the silver haired woman for long, instead looking to Geren. Her fur and hair prickles at his words, hardly at ease in a killers presence and ever hoping she is never on the receiving end of his sword; she doubts she would survive an attack unless she got a running start.

"I understand Common." Was all she managed to say. Her voice was heavily accented in a beautiful way, those who spoke Sylvan would recognize such. Her voice is rhythmic, wispy and musical, melodic in a sense that non-speakers of the language would liken it to how birds chirp or water babbles or wind caressing trees. She didn't disclose her name. Not yet. No one usually cared for her name, and those that did usually had ulterior motives.

 

[Kartha_Rolein_Rinari]

Taliman takes a moment to glance toward the Drow. Assuming by her lack of a response she can at least comprehend the meaning of his intentions, he proceeds while attempting to keep communications simple. He turns his head toward the one named Geren and offers the man a small narrow of his eyes.

"Your options, I am afraid, are limited. I can not pay a slave without being fined. The second offense leads to said slave, that is you, my friend, being confiscated and reintegrated into the market. I will supply you with lodging, food, supplies, and equipment as needed. But I can do no more than that by the laws of this kingdom. If you find that unacceptable, then you can face a life of being hunted like an animal. A fate I'd very much like you to avoid." Taliman, at least to the best of Geren's ability to read, seems to speak truthfully and with a sincere sense of consideration and concern for Geren's life. With that addressed, he looks toward the other servant he'd unfortunately acquired.

"You all deserve to rest." He seems to focus on the female Satyr for the moment then attempts to address them all equally. "I have business in his kingdom and when it is done I will lead you across the sea. The one loophole in place is that slaves are permitted to leave the kingdom with their Master, though there is a hefty price as it is assumed this is for the slaves to be freed. Those who return with the slaves are reimbursed, but I care little for the money. I save those I can--I have no care for the sickening depravities of owning others." He slowly crosses his arms over his chest, awaiting their responses.

 

[RikuXIII]

Quoral rubbed her wrists and flexed her fingers with care after her shackles were removed. Though still on the emotional high from this glimer of hope, her old instincts started to kick in and was looking for angles to play. Freed from restraints, she could make a break for it. With no magic to speak of and mostly blinded, she doubted she would make it far though. No, following this strange surface dweller who bought her was the way. If he was of use, she would remain with him, though the nature of their relationship would have to change. And if wasn't what he seemed or useless to her, he would be disposed of.
After what seemed like an inordinate pause, Quoral acknowledged Taliman's words with a nod. She tried to look meek and broken, and was upset that it didn't seem to take much effort. After the pair were out of earshot of the slavers, Quoral got a little closer and hissed,
"Aslu jala varn dal l'xsa'us chathbualeab phor?" (Got any protection from the damned fireball above?)

 

[Gravitational Force]

Well, looks like his newest employer was either exceptionally naive or an exceptionally bad liar. Either way Geren was certain he'd end up having to kill him before this was over. Still, right now he was out of options and there was no harm in playing along.
"Fine."

As it was he had no reason to trust the other two either. Neither of them would be likely to help him if he tried to escape and if given the opportunity would leave him behind.

Still, he had his gear back and he'd eventually get the opportunity to take his freedom and his would-be master's life. Even if the scaly man was telling the truth that just made him all the more of a fool for trusting someone he'd enslaved. Hopefully he'd have enough money on him at the time that Geren could take "back-pay" off his corpse.

Geren's body language betrays none of this. He'd long since mastered the ability to control his subconscious movements, which helped greatly when trying to tail a target. At most one would get the sense Geren was bored.

 

[InTheSea]

The scaled-man's focus lingered on her for a moment longer than she felt comfortable, and found herself turning her gaze away almost at the same time Taliman eventually did. Was he trying to pander to her youth? She wanted to be hopeful. Since her initial enslavement, having some form of hope would be a nice feeling. A very welcome feeling. But she couldn't allow it to take root in her heart. There was little point hoping for anything with the chances of betrayal so high, when it was so common. The rarity of this man telling the truth was almost mythological in this land.

Regardless, she had no choice but to follow. As he had stated, any fleeing would end up in her abrupt end, likely after being tortured for more information on her realm. And by all legality, she belonged to him. Whether or not he was being truthful, the sting of the whip from earlier that day still stung, another scar to add to the masses, another reminder of her unfortunate place.

Eyes of emerald shift to the Drow when she speaks in her language, hissing the words to the only one who seemed to understand the strange tongue. She watches the exchange for a moment, before looking to the human as he apparently agreed with what was said. She doubted he actually did. He didn't look like the type to simply agree to a situation, and she certainly felt insecure around his bulk, but she had to trust that her would-be Master would protect her.

"Curfew approaches." She speaks lowly.

 

[Kartha_Rolein_Rinari]

As Quoral approached Taliman, he retrieves a special pair of spectacles from one of the pouches upon his waist. The item is black with glass frames surrounded by thin metal and designed to curve around the ears. He’d offer them to Quoral with a small smile upon his lips. He replies in her own language as is appropriate.

“Dos orn ragar nindolen weafl. Nind orn izin dos ulu kyorl altho l'tangi 'zil ka ol zhah isto.” (You will find these useful. They will allow you to see during the day as if it is night.) With that, he then looks back to Geren with a stern expression. Talimans’ entire life was surrounded around the psychology of others as the child of a diplomat. Being one himself to a degree, he could often tell the true intentions behind others.

“Good. Glad we have come to a peaceful understanding at last.” Taliman subtly calls Geren out on his obvious natural inclination toward violence. Though Taliman is unable to really ascertain Geren’s true intentions, he is certain the main is displeased. A man with such a disposition and loathing is certain to prove…challenging.

“Yes, the evening is upon us.” Taliman acknowledges Vys’ words and agrees with their intent. “I suggest you all seek the comfort of your lodgings. I have obtained the best of what is available for slaves—I am sorry I can not do more.” He reaches to his right pouch and obtains three silver coins. He offers one to each of them one at a time.

“The most a slave is permitted to have on their person, without a notary of mission for a task, is a silver coin. This should be enough to obtain some food and water in the morning.” With that, he nods his head and attempts a smile of reassurance. “Get some rest and I will see you all in the morning.” To keep up the rouse, he ends the conversation in an abrupt manner to avoid suspicion.

---​

The next morning, the cries of roosters would echo through the streets at the peaking of dawn. For Geren, Quoral, and Vys, the noise of the streets fills their room. The thin straw walls do little to reduce noise. The city awakens with the deepest desire for coin as always. Businesses open to the streets. Carts are in motion for establishment. Fires are stoked at the smithies and crafters alike. Even the distant shrieks of slaves screaming rise on occasion as the morning whips strike.

Taliman awakens in his room on the second floor of the Tavern in a dense collection of fine furs. Wine, cheese, and fruit await him on the side table. Even a servant for his morning attentions is provided as is customary for one of his ancestral standings. He of course declines and sends the servants away to prepare himself for the day.

Following the completion of his morning ablutions, Taliman makes his way down to the main floor of the Tavern for food and drink. Given he is a paying patron, Vys, Geren, and Quoral will be allowed to enter to seek their Master. Taliman obtains a table sufficient to seat himself and each of them upon their arrival. A fee is charged to permit their presence in chairs, which he pays. He waits for them to arrive but proceeds to order merely a single silver worth of food. Though the keeper of the Tavern finds this odd, he dares not question the reasoning.

 

[RikuXIII]

Quoral took the item Taliman offered carefully and examined it with her partially blinded sight and newly freed hands. It was shape seemed like a tiara. Perhaps it would shield her from the sun. She placed it on her head like a tiara, making a face that it wasn't doing anything.
"Lu'oh xun Usstan faentar nindol-?" (How do I activate this-?) She began to ask when an attempt to adjust it caused it to accidental slid forward in front of her eyes. In the darkened glass of the device, Quoral found some relief from the hideous glare. She adjusted this "sunblocker" for better protection. She still felt the heat from the sun, but at least she could see better. It was now that she noticed the other two individuals watching her and Taliman. From their attire and general state, she concluded they slaves. Or...former slaves, like she was suppose to be now. This surface dweller was sticking his neck out for three people? What was in it for him?
Taliman gave instructions in common, which Quoral had studied. So, continue play acting. Very well. Food and better bedding then the pens would be wonderful at this point. Maybe these quarters would have a bath. The mysteries of who this man was and his intentions could wait for when her mind was clearer from a good rest.

****

Quoral's night trance had been strange. Dreams of the Dark Maiden's songs had continued, but there had been a..skittering. Like spider legs at the edge of hearing....
She only needed about 4 hours to trance, so she was up part of the night. She wished these surface dwellers weren't so dependent on the sun's glaring light, so they could move at night, like sensible beings. Despite being unshackled, the former priestess still felt that her life was well out of her hands. In her frustration, she began to pace inside the little slaves quarters she was allowed. She opened the door to see if there was anyone watching. Maybe she could just slip away. Get out of this city, away from this mysterious man and his other purchases. The Followers of Eilistraee might not know where she was, but she could find them on her terms now. But what if that was wrong? What if she couldn't find them? What if-
As she peered out and her mind was consumed by doubts and fear, moon light broke through the clouds, shining down on the city. Caught in the silvery light, Quoral became transfixed by the moon. The light shimmered, like it came off a dancer. Spinning, twirling, full of grace and beauty. Quoral's mind calmed as she stared at the moon. Was Eilistree trying to direct her to stay? She had felt Lolth's presence before, but this was...warm. Comforting. Eventually, Quoral sat down inside her little hovel and pulled out the teaching of Eilistraee in the moon light.

****
In the morning, Quoral ventured out with her sunblockers on. It still felt like she was a touch to close to a fire. She would have to see about a good cloak, if her new benefactor was continuing to feel benevolent. She did her best to avoid others till she made it to where Taliman was sitting down for breakfast.
"Vendui'" (Greetings) She greeted as she sat down.
She paused a moment, looking thoughtful for a moment.
"Know some of...um...human tongue." She continued in common. "Others not seem to...know drow tongue."
She glanced around the room, then shot Taliman a "is it safe to talk here" kind of look.