[Plaza of Dark Delights]Property Bought, Property Owned

by **Pandaemus** on October 31st, 2013, 10:59 am

3rd Day of Spring, 500 A.V.
Slavers Pavilion in the Plaza of Dark Delights, Ravok

He had a name, he knew. But it was not his own, his mother had not given it to him. He did not have a mother. He had an owner. Greebus Inariga was his owner. A cage and metallic collar were what reminded the boy of his status as a slave. He was like the dog Greebus Inariga kept, but ate less.

The cold iron of his cage was unforgiving when brushed against accidentally in the early morning chill. The boy learned quickly to try to fall asleep with his back against the bars. That way when he awoke the bare skin of his hands and feet were almost brushing the icy iron of the other side of the cage. He did not mind the cage. There were strangers outside of it, and the slave boy was safe inside the cage. He would not be taken. Not unless the stranger gave Greebus Inariga a lot of golden pebbles like they had before they tok the boy’s brother.

He had a family once. A mother, a father, a brother. But his father had been sold before he could remember things like his face or his voice. The woman that was his mother, he could only remember the brown curls. He remembered her bending over him when he was even smaller than he was now, and her hair tickling his face. She had been smiling and singing to him. But he could not remember her face. To his mind it was a pale cloud of mystery, flanked by the most beautiful tumbling of brown curls he had ever seen.

After sunrise Greebus Inariga came round with the loop. From the loop he drew forth the keys that held the relative freedom of all his slaves. He’d unlock their tight little iron prisons and his meaty hands would beckon them out into the Ravokian sunlight. The boy and the others would then line up and be given their meal. He would sniff the air to smell what was coming. The boy was good at smelling the food. He smelled food all day, but only ate in the morning and at night before going back in his sleep cage.

The boy stood, on a fine spring morning on the Ravokian Docks. The sun beat down upon Rhysol’s city with a warmth and assurance that always made him content. The babble of the Plaza of Dark Delights pressed through the morning air like a swarm of locusts singing. It was there now, and it had always been there, and it would always be there. It was the music of his life.

by **Pandaemus** on November 4th, 2013, 10:46 pm

The voices of merchants arguing with customers. The hushed gossip of the important families drifted to the bored ear, though the boy was far too young and uninterested to pay it much mind. He liked to listen to the animals. The slaver’s open aired pavilion was close enough to the area that houses the animals for sale that the boy could spend a morning listening to the roars and howls of the beasts. He would imagine what they were and how they looked. Somehow, to the young boy, they all seemed to be varying shades and sizes of Aegus, Greebus Inariga’s hound. He had not seen any other animals besides crows and seagulls. And they made different noises. Aegus had never made a noise to the boy’s knowledge or memory. For all he knew, Aegus could make such noises as he heard every day.

The boy sniffed the air. Bread. He awaited his turn to walk up and take food before being chained to a post in Greebus Inariga’s area of the pavilion. He wiggled his toes. The wooden floor of the slave den that Greebus kept his stock was well worn and rough with splinters. But he was used to it. There was no point in pulling them out, because more would just poke him. He grabbed the beard with eager little fingers. It was old and stale, but not bad. The slave was experienced with stale bread in his time with Greebus. All he had to do was keep every bite in his mouth for a few minutes and it would become soft enough to chew. The boy imagined this was what bread tasted like when it was first made. The kind that Greebus and his Ebonstryfe friends munched on all the time.

In Ravok, free people liked to have slaves. The boy had come to the conclusion that they had so much wealth and so many things to do they simply could not take care of everything themselves, so they bought bodies to work for them. Wealth was a hard concept for the boy to understand. The only thing he could imagine was a well dressed man, like the black clad ones that ran the Plaza, in a massive cage. In that cage with the man were piles and piles of the gold coins, Mizas, and slaves lounging around his. Of course he had many dogs named Aegus, not just one. He knew there were other things out there, but these were the things he imagined for the rich.

The boy’s existence was simple, and in that it was fulfilling. He ate, he breathed, he watched, and he waited. His time would come. Someday someone would buy him and he would get to do more than sit on some hay beside a post all day. Perhaps someday someone besides himself would know his name. He was the youngest of the slaves in Greebus Inariga’s stock. He could remember nothing before being property, and did not think of an existence outside such confines. The idea that someone simply chose what they were going to strive to be on their own was a frightening one. He shuddered to think of it.

Greebus was talking now. It would be nothing if it was to one of his Ebonstryfe friends, for they owned the entire Slave Pavilion and were commonly seen there. But this other freeman was not in the black of the Ebonstryfe, nor did he seem to wear the sharp darkness of the cloth usually wrapping Ravokian nobility. The boy stood and walked close until his chain lifted off the ground.

The other was a pale man, skinny and eerily still where other’s fidgeted. He was upright and passive in his facial features. Where Greebus Inariga put on his greasy facade of bravado and friendship, the other simply ignored any talk other than business. The boy smiled. It was getting Greebus Inariga flustered. He had always boasted the glibbest tongue in the Dark Plaza, or so he said. And now this pale scarecrow of a man was brushing his silver tongue aside like cobwebs between the bars of a cage.

As the two walked through the mess of Greebus Inariga’s slaves the boy watched with a curiosity he never really displayed anymore. Before his brother had been sold they would watch the prospective buys intently. It was an excitement something akin to an orphan being looked at for adoption. But then they had been separated and now the boy did not have the heart for hopeful thinking. But something about this man made him want to watch.

He seemed to draw the boy’s attention without any effort. The slave tried to see the man’s face, but could not under the brimmed hat he wore. The prospective buyer seemed to effortlessly shift his hat or his stance to hide his face from view, as if only by chance. But somehow the boy thought it could not be chance. Indeed he did not see the face until the fat slaver brought the man over to take a look at the boy himself.

For his part, Greebus Inariga looked hopeless now. He had the air about him that a slaver got when he was trying to sell his wares to someone he knew was wasting his time. The boy stood back by his post now. Now that he was the subject of their scrutiny he did not want to the unsettling eyes on him. The man was indeed pale, and his face was gaunt and eerily void of some essence it needed. The slave was not world wary enough to put it into words, but there was definitely something missing in this man.

“Well here’s the boy. He’s young and can grow and learn to do whatever you’d be needing sir.” Greebus Inariga said lazily, having a fat palm of sausage- fingers at his property. The man stared down at the boy, and the boy tried his damnedest to avoid the eyes of the stranger. He seemed dangerous, as if he was more than an old man. He could not form an idea of what it was, but he left a dark uneasiness in the pit of the boy’s stomach.

“He will do.” The old man said without hesitation.

by **Pandaemus** on November 5th, 2013, 10:35 am

“What? You haven’t even heard anything about him!” Greebus Inariga exclaimed in disbelief before catching himself. All the slaves looked at him with bewildered eyes. It was the first time he had ever shown any opposition to a potential sale. He seemed as shaken by his momentary stupidity as any of his slaves and quickly recovered. “But of course you know best what you need, Mr. Thanadoros.” He gave a little greasy bow before turning back to the boy.

The slaver then proceeded to give the man, Mr. Thanadoros, a long winded and whiny explanation for any misgivings he may have about the boy. It was normal, for the slave, to have his life summed up in a sales pitch, though he never liked it. What did Greebus Inariga know about him? He only saw mizas, and was blind to the depth of people. The boy stared back at the old man, trying to seem strong or fearless. The truth was he was trying to be more. More important, more intelligent, more valuable. But he was just a small boy who lived in a cage.

“You sick, boy?” Thanadoros asked, never taking his eyes off the slave’s small, smooth face. The boy shook his head. “You weak, boy?” Another silent head shake. “You dumb, boy?” Another shake of his head. “You mute, boy?” The man asked again, this time a flare of anger shone brightly through his eyes.

“No, sir.” The boy said quietly, glancing over at Greebus Inariga. He would not help the slave-child, but he was all he had. The salver was as close to a parent, or a mentor, that the boy had. As sad as that was, it made it hard for the boy to imagine life without the greasy, greedy, fat man there to try to con people into buying his wares.

“Good. You will do nicely.” Thanadoros straightened. He turned to Greebus Inariga and held two wrinkled hands up. “So, how much for the boy.” Thanadoros asked, his tone all business and no banter. Not that it had changed much from his mostly business, and very little banter.

“Well, Mr. Thanadoros. What happens usually is I put them up for auction and theres a bid system. Now usually I could bribe the auctioneer to turn a deaf ear to a bid that outdoes my favored buyer by too much.” Greebus Inariga said, mouth curving into a slick smile. It made him look like a particularly happy frog.

Thanadoros frowned and turned his full attention to Greebus Inariga, utterly ignoring the existence of the boy. “Now, Inariga. I don’t think we need to go through that hassle, do you?” It did not seem to be a threat. At the same time it was clearly an inarguable point. “Now, what is your price?” Greebus Inariga stared at the old man. What about this figure made everyone so uneasy? He was intimidating, but how? He bore no muscles to beat them with, nor did he arm himself with any weapon. And he did not speak threats. It was just an air of deeply unseated vileness about him that seeped into any heart about it.

“Well, Mr. Thanadoros. I can maybe do two hundred mizas for the young buck. He’s a strong kid and will grow and learn fast!” Greebus Inariga said, his greed overcoming the intimidation set on by the old man.

Thanadoros stared at the salver for a moment. It was like his eyes bore deep, into the soul of the man. The boy had never seen a man who made the slaver than uneasy. Greebus Inariga had a habit of making friends with the most unsavory types too. “I will give you one hundred twenty five mizas for the boy.” Thanadoros said with a finality that seemed more solid than a brick wall.

by **Pandaemus** on November 6th, 2013, 12:38 am

The slaver and the buyer bickered back and forth and hustled each other to no end. This was all commonplace in the Plaza of Dark Delights. For here everyone was smarter than the next guy, and every tongue as silver as the bright coin of Leth. But the fat slaver managed to talk the old man down to one hundred twenty five gold mizas for the boy’s soul.

Then before he knew it, the chain and collar were off of him and he was being ushered to an area he had not yet been to. The front podium of Greebus Inariga’s lot. The crowd of shuffling Ravokians scared the boy. There were so many on the street he had never had to be this close to them before. He had liked to believe he knew Ravok and the people in it, but he had watched them from afar, behind his bars.

But now the man called Mr. Thanadoros was counting out the coins that purchased the boy’s life. He watched the golden discs fall into the leather bag with a fascination. So this was the price of life? A tumbling of tiny golden Synas? And now, at the end of this golden fall, he would be the property of Mr. Thanadoros. And only the old man knew where that would take him.

After paying his new owner turned towards a nearby wagon, a small two wheeled rig with a few crates of possessions in back and a bench for driving up front. The back gate was a simple wooden board that could be removed with a latch. Harnessed into the rig was a small black pony. The thing snorted excitedly when the two approached.

“Well boy, I suppose you will be needing a name if you will be traveling with me.” Thanadoros said, gazing over at his new property.

“I have a name, Mr. Thanadoros. It’s -”

“No! No you have a slave name. To achieve any sort of greatness in this world, you need a real name.” Thanadoros’ words did not make sense to the boy as they mounted the bench of his wagon. But the tone with which he said the word greatness made the boy want to listen to him. “And we will give you a name fit for greatness now, so that you can get a head start on your greatness.” The words seemed kind, the sort of thing one would say to a boy to endear themselves.

“What sort of great name?” The boy asked.

“The sort of name that will be known someday. Pandaemus.” Thanadoros spoke softly. “Pandaemus.”

The boy said his name name as well. “Pandaemus.” It sounded odd and foreign to him. Such a name was fit for a lowly slave? He had always heard names like Kelpi, or Grimes, or Dogbreath come from Greebus Inariga. Pandaemus seemed too… respectable?

“Okay master. I’m Pandaemus now… Where are we going?” The boy had to establish the boundaries with this fellow so that he would know how far he could go without overstepping. So he would ask questions until the man shut him up. Then he would know his place.

“We need to find you some better clothes. I won’t have an assistant in rags.” Thanadoros said. It left no doubt that the trip was purely for his own ego, and not for any affection for the slave boy. Nonetheless, the boy-Pan- was thrilled. He had never got to try on new clothes. He knew they would probably not be as nice as the ones the nobles and Thanadoros wore. But real clothes would be a nice change. Greebus Inariga did not spend much money on keeping his slaves well cared for.

“We’ll head over to Maven’s and pick up a few things for you and then be on our way. Can you read or write?” Thanadoros asked. His tone said that he did not expect the boy to answer yes. Pan, of course, could do neither. But he didn’t like the way it was assumed he couldn’t.

“Well I know what a S is. It’s like a snake.” Pan said proudly. He was not as stupid as Thanadoros thought!

The man gave a huff of a laugh. “Yes, well there is an S in your name actually. Here…” Thanadoros thrust the reins, big leathery straps leading from the donkey to his hands, into the small pale fingers of his slave boy. Pan’s heart jumped and he pictured the thing speeding off the road and leading them straight into one of the waterways that Ravok was famous for.

But the donkey knew what it was doing more than Pan apparently. The thing moseyed on unperturbed by the exchange of power behind it. It snorted and shook it’s head as passersby.

Thanadoros pulled from one of his crates a bit of parchment and a quill. The old man scribbled a few beautifully crafted letters on the page and handed it to Pandaemus. He took the reigns back and faced forward without another word.

The boy stared down at the parchment. “What does it say, master?” He asked in a quiet voice. What was this wonderful word with it’s fanciful strokes and majestic letters.

“It says your name, Pandaemus.” Came the answer.

by **Pandaemus** on November 7th, 2013, 5:26 am

“I want you to practice writing it until you can do it perfectly, that’s a good way of beginning. And at each letter I will tell you what it is and the sound it makes.” Thanadoros directed. To a passerby it would look as if a kindly old grandfather was teaching his young grandson. But the reality was much darker. Thanadoros planned to use this slave boy until he was dead, and then perhaps his body afterwards. But he would need him to be worth the money he spent on the boy. So the education Thanadoros planned to instill in the Ravokian slave boy was necessary.

The boy stared down at the word. His first task seemed impossible. Writing and reading were things for nobles and Ebonstryfe. His anger rose up a bit inside him. Such was a noble’s habit, to expect too much from their lessors. “But, master. That will take forever. I don’t know if I can do it in a time that you’d like.” He worded the phrase with extreme care. He was not prone to complaint, but he wanted to see how far Thanadoros would let him go.

“I have more time than you could possibly imagine, Pandaemus.” The old man said, once again avoiding looking away from the road. He seemed patient, but there was no kindness. This was all part of the development of a product.

The subject was apparently dropped after that because the old man began to list of chores for the boy to perform on a daily basis or weekly basis. “Rub down Ray and feed him twice a day. Learn your letters. And you will go down to the market and purchase whatever food and water you require for the week. I will give you a few coins every so often to accomplish this.” Thanadoros’ words were crackling. They gave the boy the impression of dust, and he wasn’t sure why.

At Maven’s he was sized and told to pick three sets of clothing from a certain section of the store for commoners. It was not the poorest section, but it was far from the most luxurious array the store boasted as well. He found three tunics, two grey and one green. They were so soft, made from cotton and never worn before. Three pairs of leggings, two sets of boots, and a small cloak later Pan was almost unrecognizable. He watched as Thanadoros bought him all the clothes and a brimmed hat for what he called ‘keeping out of the sun’.

While Thanadoros busied himself at another set of vendors, a man selling ink and next to hunt a hunter selling falcon feathers for quills, Pandaemus acquainted himself with Ray. The donkey seemed old but spritely for his state. Large in the eyes of a boy and looming over him. Pan had never been that close to a donkey, though he had seen many pass by while chained to his post.

Ray snorted and sniffed at him. Pan grimaced and laughed as the donkey licked his neck and hair, making the brown mop stand on end at the side. “Ugh!” Pan pushed the donkey’s head away. Ray snorted and paid the boy no more mind. He climbed back into the seat of the wagon and watched Thanadoros haggle with the vendors.

Pandaemus observed that both men seemed less than eager to sell to him. He could not place it, but there was something off about his new master. Then he saw the man turn and lick his lips as he made his way across the crowded street to the wagon. The tongue that came out of his mouth was jet black. Pan had only seen the tip, and just for a moment. But he was sure of it.

What did that mean? Pan pondered this intently over the next chime while Thanadoros went about his errands. Always the man left Pan to tend to the wagon and watch his belongings. Pan never thought of running away.

At the end of the day, when the street was nearly empty and Syna was low in the sky, Thanadoros asked him a question. “Where is your day’s work, Pandaemus?” the old man’s gravely voice inquired.

Pan grinned to himself, he had fed Ray and groomed him while Thanadoros was I the last shop, a place to rebind books and buy parchment. “I brushed Ray down and fed him from the bag in the back, though-”

But he was cut off. “I was speaking of your letters. Did you not practice them?” Thanadoros’ voice had changed ever so slightly from the stern old man to something more sinister as he asked again. Pan felt a cold breath of fear snake it’s way down his back. The boy did not want to give the man the truth, but knew a lie would land him in worse than the truth.

“No. I didn’t know you meant for me to do it right away.” Pan muttered. The boy was dreading what came next, even though Thanadoros had been completely fine with him all day.

“Never give me excuses for your failure again, unless it pertains to the research we are doing. And if I tell you to do something, know that I mean for you to get it done when I tell you, unless I specify otherwise.” Pan didn’t know what specify meant, but he got the overall tone. “Well?” Thanadoros asked after a moment of grave silence. “Answer me.”

“Yes, master.” Pan said back to the man.

Thanadoros rummaged in one of his crates for something and pulled out a black quill and parchment to go with it. Then he turned away from Pandaemus and the boy could hear the clinking of glass. Suspicious of the old man’s activity, Pan tried to gaze around him without being noticed. He caught nothing sinister with his limited view.

“Practice until morning, since you wasted the day away.” Thanadoros said, placing the quill, ink, and parchment in front of the boy. He got out of the wagon and began unloading his things into what was apparently his apartment in Ravok.

Pan began to copy the letters of his name. As he wrote he noticed a burning in his hand. He placed the quill on the bench next to him and looked down at his hand. The skin between the thumb and forefinger was red with irritation. The boy looked disgusted and bewildered. Finally he thought to sniff the quill. It smelled something foul and Pandaemus jerked his head back quickly. “This quill has something on it that burns, master.” Pan pleaded with the old man.

Thanadoros looked up at him. His eyes held less emotion that the very stones he stood upon. “I know, Pandaemus.” Then he was gone, into his apartment.

And so Pan spent his first night under Thanadoros in his wagon, writing his own name in the dark. The boy’s hard burned for hours on end. That was his first real experience with the former wizard of Sahova.

by **Vanari** on December 2nd, 2013, 8:13 pm

Pandaemus

Observation	+5 XP
Rhetoric	+2 XP
Reading	+1 XP
Writing	+1 XP

Lores :

Notes :

Flashback [Plaza of Dark Delights]Property Bought, Property Owned