The Auction

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Not found on any map, Endrykas is a large migrating tent city wherein the horseclans of Cyphrus gather to trade and exchange information. [Lore]

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The Auction

Postby Hope Dawnwhisper on September 16th, 2013, 12:25 pm

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People were lined in front of her. Girls and boys, women, and even a few men, though there weren't many of them, relative to women and children. And Isalie was now one of them. The audience consisted of darker skinned people, compared to the paler people on Isalie's side, and the majority of them were adult men. Having seen so many other people in a similar situation to Isalie, the runaway girl finally has the realisation of what had happened, and what was about to happen, hit her.

All around her she could hear voices. There weren't too many people there, but there were enough, and most of the voices were speaking in some unknown tongue to Isalie. Some were speaking the Common tongue on occasion, but Common was not her first language either, and her nerves were making it even harder to keep up with everything going on. Watching in silence as a young child, followed by a red haired girl who appeared to be about the same age as Isalie. The young woman found it difficult to feel sympathy for the others though, having long since distanced herself from what was going on.

Eventually she is nudged forward, towards the ever growing audience. Though she was still wearing little more than rags, her clothes were clean, having been washed by a harlot in Syliras.
No, don't, she warns herself internally, You're not going back. For the same reasons, though, her skin was also relatively clean, giving away a complexion that distinguishes her from most of the people gathered. It also wasn't hard to see that she was malnourished; her loose fitting clothes making it obvious to the intelligent observer. Her expression, though confused to an extent, was void of most emotion.

As with previous captives making their way up to the stand, Isalie is introduced and the question is asked. For the first time, she feels a flurry of fear in the pit of her stomach, like newly kindled fire. She has to remind herself that, no matter what these people threw at her, she had suffered through worse. Nibbling on her lower lip, she stares at a fixed point above the crowd, silently hoping against hope that whoever takes her is kind...

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The Auction

Postby Colt on September 16th, 2013, 4:05 pm

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She came onstage slowly, regarding her surroundings with an apathy that struck Shahar with its familiarity. Open, empty, a cup with a hole in the bottom that refused to be filled. It was a wide, encompassing apathy, one that he had grown all too familiar with. Here, in this woman, was the same apathy that resided in Slither.

For a moment, he simply regarded her. When the facilitator spoke to the crowd of her name and the rest he didn’t listen; even without words, her appearance and actions spoke for themselves. Isalie, the stagemaster called her, but even alone Shahar shook his head to himself. Isalie seemed too delicate and innocent a name for the woman on stage or for the grasslands that would become her home.

But her apathy did nothing to dull the sharpness of her eyes as they roamed, absorbing information with a bladelike logic and tucking it away. So much like Slither.

He wasn’t quite sure what moved him to raise his hands in the sign for fifty, offering first claim. Pity, perhaps? A misplaced sense of responsibility, or a simple extension of his desire to see such apathy changed? He didn’t know, but neither did he quite care; it could be one of these or all of these, but still he raised his hands in silent offer.
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The Auction

Postby Hope Dawnwhisper on September 16th, 2013, 4:40 pm

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The situation was all too familiar, even though it had been at least ten years since she was up on the stand for auction. Back then, as a child with a strong spirit, she had been shackled and chained just like any other. Here, however, there was nothing binding her to her position. It had alighted a little curiosity in the young woman; as a few others were restrained with various means, so it wasn't the nature of the people that left her unchained. Isalie had placed it down to despondency; there must have been an aura about her that told her captors she wasn't a flight risk.

She didn't want to be going through this again, she didn't want to be a slave to anyone, not after all she had gone through to escape it last time. But there was no fight left, no will to run anymore. And, assuming the Drykas hadn't killed her horse, or it hadn't died on its own, and assuming she could find the poor, weak beast, she doubted strongly that he would be able to carry her far enough to escape to freedom.

Out of the corner of her eye, she catches a man raises his hand; a signal Isalie failed to understand, but clearly meant something to the man, to others around him, and to the auctioneer. The girl shifts slightly, and she turns her head to look at him, though her expression never changes. It wasn't that it was harsh, to the contrary, her sharp features appeared almost slack; a blank surface to match the nothing going through her mind. Dulled eyes flicker over to the auctioneer before turning back to the audience and to the man, who had now dropped his hand. She casts her gaze over him, looking but not really seeing. It was final now; someone had bid on her, she would be going home with one of the people looking up at her.

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The Auction

Postby Naiya on September 16th, 2013, 6:34 pm

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There was no break in the crowd, only angry looks from the men there, searching for the perfect broodmare. She had wanted so suddenly to leave, and when she turned again to see if another path had appeared for her to escape through it was too late.

There, on the dais before her was exactly the thought that had struck fear into her heart. Apathetic, farseeing, and thin, too thin. A woman who had been bought and sold, had given up on thoughts of what was to come because her choices had been made for her for far too long.

Broken.

That was what she saw in the eyes of that girl, no older than she was herself.

She was broken.

That was what lay hidden in Rue, a fracture, a tear, a break. And she feared it. Feared it because there were times where she knew that she would switch places with that woman on the stage in an instant. Times when she would give anything to be so lost to the world, to sit back and let others decide her fate, because it would be so much easier. If she just did as her father bade, let him do as he would so that-

She tore her mind from the thought. She would not be that girl standing up there. She needed to leave.

She moved again, this time forcing her way through the crowd, strong and determined despite her shaking.

Finally she broke through the crowd. Emerging on the far side of the group she froze as a hand went up in the crowd. Fifty, it offered. She could only hope that the man who bid would not break the girl further.
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The Auction

Postby Khida on September 16th, 2013, 7:01 pm

Khida came because he did, a point of quiet intensity amidst the bustling crowd. Spectators, bidders, prizes for sale, subjects just lately sold; they milled, they mumbled and muttered, and she watched it all. Or as much as she could encompass. The significance of the event was lost on the Kelvic -- she knew that humans were being bought and sold, that much was impossible to overlook. But what those people meant to the devastated Drykas, the hope their collective presence embodied, eluded her entirely; to her, this was just another market, albeit one unique in Endrykas so far as her experience could attest.

That it could have been her up on the platform being bidded upon also eluded Khida. With her short hair, her unadorned robe, her halting Pavi -- and her lack of windmarks, though that could not now be seen -- she was manifestly not Drykas; indeed, the Kelvic could have passed for another of the captive women. Some of the crowd even paused and regarded her consideringly, wondering if she was recently off the block or headed for it, undaunted by the level directness of her stare in return. But their interest waned when they glimpsed the mark sometimes visible past the drift of her hair, outward evidence of a claim stronger than gold coins or iron shackles could ever be. They went back to studying the captives on the block... and Khida joined them, following the pull of her bondmate's interest.

He seemed focused on a girl, a young woman, with brown hair and light skin, her clothing worn and tattered. She was thin, more so even than the Kelvic -- thin as a human shouldn't be. She looked back at the hunter, or at the crowd, with a dullness which reminded Khida of nothing so much as a sick beast, too weary and ill to be bothered with concern for its own continued survival. From the edge of her vision, she saw her bondmate gesture, something she didn't recognize but could place in context -- did he mean to buy that girl?

He did, and Khida tipped her head, on the heels of that realization giving the stranger a closer scrutiny. She had no compunctions against staring, nor any concern that the intensity of her regard might be found discomfiting by its subject. She did not critique his choice; whether they took another home with them or not made no difference to the Kelvic. But now that it seemed they would be... she had reason to be interested in this one.
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The Auction

Postby Praetorian on September 17th, 2013, 9:49 pm

Deep down, Rukairn was relieved that someone had stepped forward to claim Isalie. She was so thin, most would not see her as possessing the qualities preferred in a mother. His face remained neutral, but some measure of relief danced in his hands as he spoke, "A claim has been made? Be there any who wish to surpass his offer?" He saw heads shaking, hands signing refusal, disinterest...

After a tick, he nodded to himself. "Welcome to Endrykas, Isalie," he said in Common, motioning for the woman to leave the stage and for her "owner" to meet her there. By now, the task of paying and being informed by the bookkeeper just off of the platform had been repeated enough that the Drykas expected others to be able to do it without having to have it explained... again. In truth, he was eager to see the end of this. So many lives had entered his hands and in the past season, he felt aged five years. He was proud of his accomplishments, but that made them no less taxing.

Once Sahar reached the book keeper, he would begin instructing him in Pavi. "Congratulations on your new pavilion member. You are expected to teach her our ways and our traditions. Make her transition easy. As soon as you can, you must have her bound to the Web. Do not, however, make her aware of its secrets until you feel that she can be trusted entirely," Trekin's hands moved absently, speaking of ancient, secret, tradition, pride, and forefathers. From the man before him's dress and bearing, he could tell that he was not a common addition to Endrykas, likely one of the Drykas who preferred to live in the Grasslands. As such, he had to adjust his monologue ever so slightly. "You may take her from Endrykas, but not from the Web. Do not think to take her home. This is her home now... You are to remain her guardian until she has borne one child. Then, she can move about our people as she pleases."

Once that was complete and he had payment in his wooden coinbox, amount noted upon his scroll, Trekin turned his attention to Isalie. His age-wavering voice transitioned quickly into Common, but the errant motions of his hands could not be stopped. "Once again, welcome, my dear. You are now a member of this young man's pavilion, his family. You will not be treated as a slave, but a family member. He is, however, your guide into your new life. Consult him in all matters as you learn to stand and walk among the Drykas. You know some of our tongue, and he will teach you more. I know that at first you may feel embarrassed, but please try to learn as much as you can and use it as often as possible." A smile lit his face and his eyes, "Worry not of your future prospects. If you prove you can become one of us, we will treat you as if you had grown with us and the grass."

"Now, off with the both of you."
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The Auction

Postby Colt on September 18th, 2013, 1:41 am

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Shahar asked Khida to wait a moment, then slithered uncomfortably through the crowd to the edge of the platform. The bookkeeper nodded to him and rattled off a speech with the quick efficiency of that which has been spoken many times. Shahar took note of everything he said. Culture. Tradition. Transition.

Web. That one sent a jolt of thought through the hunter. He did not have any skill with the Web, but with a fourth person coming to his hearth it might be a very good idea to learn. He stored that away for further thought when time allowed it.

Bourne a child? Shahar managed to keep himself from surprise, though the notion was certainly odd to chew on. When he’d looked at this… Isalie, the thought of siring young hadn’t even crossed his mind. And this, of all of the things that the bookkeeper said, was the only one that he chose to disregard. He had no intention of making a mother of this woman, no… by the gods, he was going to make her a Drykas.

The records-keeper shooed at them, and Shahar offhandedly bid her to come. No, wait… perhaps she didn’t know that sign? It struck him then that she might not know Pavi at all. Very well, then, that would be the first thing for her to learn.

“Come,” he said, supplying the sign again to accompany. “Come,” he repeated in common, and then again in Pavi. "Come.” His gesture was exaggerated, his words draw out to inflect meaning, that the words were connected. Both that he wanted her to follow him, and that there was a Pavi word to match and to be remembered.

He turned and signaled meet me over there to Khida, gesturing to a pavilion on one of the less populated sides of the auction space. When he turned back to Isalie, he did not give her the common word, only the Pavi “Come,” alongside the sign to come.

Pavi was one of the first things she would have to learn.
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The Auction

Postby Hope Dawnwhisper on September 18th, 2013, 9:33 pm

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The young woman remains silent as she watches the man, her supposed guide, approach. The man who auctioned her off, and the book keeper speak to him, and all the while his hands fly in front of him, as if dancing; it was mesmerising to watch, and it clearly meant something to the other man, though it meant nothing to Isalie. She stands there in silence, now barely paying attention to what was going on on the stand behind her, only vaguely aware that the next captive had been brought forward for the bidding to begin once more.

Finally the man who had bought her turns back to face his new property and speaks in the foreign tongue. The blank expression on her face, unchanging from the one she had unconsciously maintained all the time she was on the stand, must have given away the fact that she did not speak a word of Pavi. At least, she had grasped come of the vocalisations, but none of the hand gestures. He speaks a Common word through a thick accent, but she understands, drawing on her own, halted knowledge of the Common Language. Isalie assumes that his Pavi repetition is the same word, as is the sign, and she inclines her head, though it is barely noticeable.

When the man turns, she doesn't follow his gaze, and so doesn't notice the woman he then speaks to; her eyes remain trained on the back of his head, until he speaks and motions again and then begins to walk away. Numbly, her legs moving on their own without much conscious thought on her part, she follows a few steps behind.

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The Auction

Postby Arundel on September 26th, 2013, 3:38 pm

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Another one was sold from the herd they'd brought in. A young woman, pretty and not looking ecstatic with the cards she'd been dealt. Arundel doubted she'd be jumping for joy if their roles were flipped. The Drykas was more than content to stay right where she was in life. The next was an older woman, older than she herself was by the looks of it, but still in good health. She looked strong and eager to be up on display. She was sold quickly, but to whom she couldn't see. There were too many people crowded toward the front for it to be possible to recognize anyone. Arundel wondered how long this auction would last. Her lips pressed into a thin, impatient line.

"Sister!" The familiar voice made her turn. Her eldest brother pushed through the crowd, waving at her. She didn't return his smile, but instead frowned at him. "Aren't you supposed to be up front with father?" He rolled his eyes, countering easily. "Aren't you?" Arundel glowered at him unhappily. She didn't want to be up there with all the bidders, because she had no plans on participating. "We've seen some strong, fine looking young men with the women up there. Father wants you to come up and have a look." An exasperated sigh hissed through her clenched teeth. "He knows I won't find a husband like this. It will be on my own terms."

Her brother smiled, but shrugged apologetically. "I know, but he's determined. I know you want someone to prove themselves to you properly. More specifically to knock you on your ass in a fight or beat you in a race. We tried to tell him, but he still wants you up front with us." She glared up at the auction stand. "Fine!" she snapped, then glanced apologetically at her brother. He shrugged again. Arundel followed him unhappily through the crowd. Her oldest brother already had one wife, but was considering a second in this lot. The others were yet to marry. They were younger than she was, and she didn't think they were mature enough for the responsibility. But of course they were all there to greet her when she arrived.

Her father silenced their instant teasing and motioned for them to pay attention. They all turned back to the proceedings.
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The Auction

Postby Aleixo on September 30th, 2013, 2:05 am

Aleixo watched with a growing sense of the surreal, feeling somehow detached from the scene, yet at the same time understanding on a profound level – a visceral level – that this was all too real. For weeks now, he’d thought about this – a new beginning – starting over – a second chance. All those trite little expressions that in a way never really registered, until now. Until today. This morning he had awoken knowing that today would be the day. The day that he, and Antia, would be auctioned off. Oh, they could call it what they liked, the Drykas. He knew many of them were having a hard time thinking of their raiding as what it truly was – kidnapping. Enslavement. Sylirans had died because of the Drykas need for fresh blood, for new bodies to fill in their depleted ranks. The Drykas had sustained losses too, from the raids. This much Aleixo had learned from the others who had been captured. He himself could not technically be called a captive. He had come of his own free will, though, if his sister hadn’t been held hostage he in all probability would not be here, at this moment. He’d be on his way to Zeltiva, or there already, or dead, if the knights had caught up with him. So, yes, technically, he was here of his own volition, not wishing to part from Antia. But now, with his arm wrapped protectively about her thin shoulders, it was really sinking in. In the next few minutes, they might well be separated, sent to different homes – pavilions as they were called here. Slowly, he was learning a smattering of Drykas words. That was one of them. It meant a family. It also meant a physical home, though they were not permanently affixed to the land. Back in Syliras he had heard of the horse people, and how they wandered about the great plain of swaying grass, never settling in one place. But then, he’d paid little mind to the tales. Then, he’d never, ever imagined that one day he would join them, the horse riders – join them with the intent – the hope? – that he would become one of them, at one level or another.

So here he was, sat next to his younger sister, feeling her trembling as she leaned against his solid strength. Her belly was still flat and lean, the journey to the city of tents had been hard on her, and she could keep hardly anything down. He worried about the child, as unwanted as it was. That is to say, perhaps the Drykas would welcome a new baby into their midst. But given the tiny being’s origins, its birth would be only a sad reminder to its mother about what had triggered this series of unfortunate events. For now, though, Antia could have passed more easily for a ghost than a pregnant girl, she was so thin, so weak. Alexio swallowed hard and hugged her to him, trying to give her some of his strength, willing her to endure, and improve, though he feared greatly that she would continue to dwindle. The were greatly alike in looks, in their features, but they hardly passed as siblings now, she was so wan, and looked so fragile. He wondered who would want to risk taking her in. He could only hope the prospect of a baby would be a selling point – and that whatever man might have her would be kind to her.

For that was the secondary point to all this. That was why the Drykas sought out females, in preference to males. They needed children. They needed to replenish their numbers. They needed wives. Aleixo was well aware that he was one of but a few males in today’s auction, and that all of his gender were here freely, or at least as freely as he was. The Drykas needed wombs, to grow children, and breasts to nurse them. Whatever males they had accepted would be welcome for their arms, their strength, and whatever skills they brought with them. But the females were far more valuable, as were the children who had been captured. And that would be his sister’s destiny, if she survived. To marry some horse rider and bear his children – well, it was not so very different from her prospective future in Syliras, or Zeltiva, was it? Work, marry, bear children – that was a woman’s lot. So far as he had seen, the women of Endrykas were no different. In fact, many were second or third wives. Apparently the males here faced so many dangers in the sea of grass that their numbers were even fewer than the females. One of the other captives who spoke some Pavi had told Aleixo that here all were forced to marry, and men were required to take extra wives if they could afford to keep them. This idea seemed insane to Aleixo. It was hard enough to live with one woman’s moodiness. What man could handle living with two or three? In this regard, he was glad that he was not Drykas.

It hadn’t yet occurred to him that he might too be expected to participate in this baby production effort…

He drew in a deep breath, as yet another captive was “sold” and the Drykas man who’d claimed her stepped to the side to make his payment. Then he heard it, at last.

“Bring them forward.”

The words were a jumble in Aleixo’s ears, but he saw the Drykas who was running the show motioning towards himself and his sister. One of the assistants was then motioning to them as well, and Aleixo understood the word – ”Come.”

Helping Antia to stand as he did so himself, Aleixo hesitated to let go of her, she seemed to unsteady. With his arm then wrapped about her waist, he led her forward slowly, and she clung to him like a leaf quivering in a high breeze.

“Shhh…don’t worry, darling. It will be alright,” he whispered in her ear, trying to comfort her, though he knew his words held no ward against the very real possibility that in a few minutes she would be lead away in one direction and he in the other. Over his whispers, the auctioneer was beginning to introduce the pair.

“Here are Antia, and her brother Aleixo. And we have every reason to believe Antia is carrying a child within her. You can see that they are close – it would be a sad thing to separate them. Are there any present who want to give all three a home? Who will be their new family?”

The words held a ring of kindness. But never before had Aleixo ever felt so much like a prize pig on sale at the Slyiras stock market pens. Next to him, Antia sobbed and hid her face against his chest.
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