Open The End of the Line [Open]

[Vice]

20th of Spring, 514

It was a wonder that the basement floor of the Auction Hall, where slaves were 'held' until they were bought off, wasn't pestilent. Dank, crowded, and stifling, the place reeked of human filth. The slaver had no intention of staying longer than was necessary, pushing the last slave in the line with the ball of his foot as he yelled out, "This ain't a tea party, slaves. Hurry yer arses up and step in line. One person to a stall, Move along."

The collective did little to speed their approach, the obvious apprehension of being locked in a stable after days of sailing through the crashing tides of the Suvan was unappealing to all but the most depraved of sorts, none of which were in this line. Sent to the Braking Room, as the slaver called it, those slaves were met with much harsher treatment, screams heard even from the ground level in the dead of night, but the sound never escaped the hall, and as such, the populace of Kenash was generally unaware of what went on in the depths.

The slaver cast dark brown eyes at his line of slaves, a snarl twisting his lips, irritation etched upon his features as he pulled at the collective chains. A total of seven necks would jerk back at the action, pain ripping through the slaver's arm at the force required to suddenly burst from the action, but it was well-worth the immediate, collective obedience that the action garnered.

"INTO THE STALLS, NOW."

The slaver pushed forward, linking the end of the chain to a nearby hole in the wooden stables. The slaver, a burly human male, stepped forward to inspect the slaves in turn. The first in line, a young, dainty sort, with brown tresses that framed a pretty, round face looked to the man with pleading eyes. There was no pity in the slaver, the man ripping the iron chain from her neck after unlocking the mechanism, pushing her into the stable. A swift swipe of the leg brought the woman to her knees, a practiced, fluid movement that then allowed the slaver to link the woman's ankle to the waiting chain.

The process was repeated four times before the slaver stepped before a young Konti slave, eyes cast along the curvature of her body before he gripped her at the hem of her 'shirt', if such a worn, pitiful garment c ould be referred to as such. "Ah, the Konti. Had quite the barter for ya. I say that Sitai got ye for a steal... Maybe I'll take one last ta..."

The slaver reconsidered his words, shaking his head and releasing the mechanism from the woman's neck. The slaver knew to treat this one with more care than the rest, her race and the prowess she had displayed making her far more valuable and therefore difficult to abuse. It would not stop him, however, from lashing at her verbally.

"Poor, poor fish. Enchained, captured, and now, sold to landlubbers who'll probably never let ye back towards the water. Where's yer Goddess now, hmm? Avalis ain't gonna help ye now. Never again."

A sneer marked the slaver's features before he fell into the practiced procedure, a swipe of the leg bringing the woman to the floor, the woman chained to the post as the slaver moved on. The procedure was repeated twice more before the slaver left the 'stable', eager to wash the scent of human musk from his body.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the ground floor, laughter escaped Marshall Sitai's lips as he cast his gaze about the auction hall, checking his pocket watch with an eager grin as he witnessed the collection that was approaching the Hall. A bell was rung to attract the Kenashian populace, the sound echoing faintly in the distance as Sitai stepped forward. Words filled with a practiced grace flowed from make-up masked lips, perpetually lifted into a grin,

"Come one, come all! Dynasties and Freeborn alike! Your servant, dear Marshal Sitai has some more slaves available for your viewing and purchasing pleasure. Step out of the sun and come on in, several lovelies are waiting for you to claim them as your own!"

A wink was flashed to the populace as Marshall Sitai cast open the doors to the auction hall open, a hat spun along the tips of his fingers as he walked forth to the depths of the hall, confidence radiating from the man like a vibrant aura. Several followed the man, collecting a red handkerchief from a woven basket at the door and taking seats in patient waiting.

[Alakve]

Alakve was silent in her line, eyes watching the process in front of her with fear. Well, it's only a minor setback! I'm sure I'll be out of here in a flash. Besides, if I'm not back in Mura by season's end, Mother will know something's up and she'll look for me, I'm sure of it! She was the fifth in a line of seven others-she refused to refer to them all as slaves even if it was true for the moment, because they would get out eventually-and the only Konti.

OW!

There was a sudden tug on her neck, and her head and the blonde hair growing from it snapped backwards. Tears welled up in her eyes, accompanied by a yelp of pain from Ala's mouth. Without hesitation, she let the cruel slaver shove her into the stall she would spend the next leg of her journey in before being undoubtedly sold off at an auction and paraded in front of a horrible crowd of Kenasherns.

It took all of the Konti woman's self-control to keep herself from bursting out in tears at the man's words. Though it was Rak'keli who watched over her daily, who guided her in the use of the abilities she'd been gifted with, Avalis still had a lot to do with her race. Ala refrained from correcting the slaver who controlled the chains that bound her-he didn't know, she reminded herself. That was no fault of his own. He didn't know who she worshipped, and she didn't know who he worshipped. Had he been a Svefra, or a Vantha, then the answer would be Laviku or Morwen. But this man was not clearly either of those, nor anything besides plain old human.

Alakve pitied the man. He'd most likely had a horrible life before this if he felt slavery was an acceptable job.

She fell to the floor then, unobservant of the world around her while trying to maintain a profile that was as small as possible. None of them knew the exact details of her gift yet, and as long as Alakve could keep her skin away from the skin of everyone around her, she would be fine. The slaver's hands on her had come close to touching her directly. Judging by what he did for a living, just the slightest touch would send her to the ground in agony. She winced at the thought.

And then started the waiting game. The young Konti would say nothing until she absolutely had to next, though she didn't mind sharing a few anxious glances with the slaves around her. She'd been only recently captured and hadn't had as much time to get used to the processes as the others did, but she was scared.

But I'll be okay. I'll get through this. I know it.

[Jonathan Weaver]

The young doctor was happy to fulfil Marshal Sitai's request, stepping out of the harsh judgement of the Spring sun, not that the time of year made any difference in this sauna of a city to Jonathan, somehow he always found himself looking to step into the shade and wipe the sweat from his brow. You just need to get used to the place Jonny boy He reminded himself as he stepped into the solacing shade of the auction house, jostled either side by the crowd as they swarmed into the building, drawn in like moths to a flame that was the Marshal Sitai.

The doctor followed them in of course, misinterpreting what the piece of fabric was meant for as he wiped the sweat off his brow with the soft, red handkerchief, taking a moment to bask in the solacing shade of the auction house before resuming his path towards the front of the seating. He wasn't in the market for a slave today or at least wasn't specifically here to buy one though truth be told even if one did catch his eye he still barely had enough gold to see himself through this season, let alone another slave no matter how useful they may be to him

Instead he was here to inspect the slaves rather than purchase them, all too often people looking to purchase slaves wanted verification that they were fit and healthy, or possessed the capacity to do whatever purpose they saw fit, and strangely enough they seldom trusted the person selling them the goods to truthfully honest them, though a man like Marshall Sitai with all his charisma and charm could do convince people something like that with, it must have been simpler for him to approach Weaver while he was working at Mortal Solace a couple of days ago, expressing interest in hiring one of the workers to tend to the both the bidder's fears and the slaves injuries if need be and since he was the only one who wasn't a slave it was probably best he did the job.

"Come on... Hurry it up" He muttered to himself as he tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes scanning the expensive stone work of the building in boredom. He had cleaned himself up for the day, swapping the apron for a vest and putting on his only shirt with no blood on it. He didn't think it would get messy today, how little he knew Kenash.

[Haeli]

Having been here two seasons, Haeli had learned to mask her distaste of the way humans treated each other and those of similar gilt. She made her way into the crowd, drawn to it because it was a human gathering and nothing more. She wasn't interested in buying a slave. She wasn't quite certain she understood the concept anyhow. Humans owned others, but the way they did so made no sense. Sometimes delicate overdressed women painted and gilded owned men that were far stronger and far more talented than they were. Why did the men allow it? And while she could understand the strength of males owning weaker females, it still seemed to her that the equality had a severe imbalance. She knew the plantations would not run without the labor that worked the fields. She also knew that half the dandies in the crowd could not dress themselves without the assistance of others. And that surprised her. The things one could learn listening in a crowd was astonishing. The casual conversation was pander and showmanship and something like roosters facing off in a yard full of hens.

Haeli was still learning though. She was still seeking answers. And in all the time she'd lived among humans, no where else but Kenash had really broadcast the true inequality between the classes as this city did. She was freeborn, bearing the mark on her palm that gave her leeway to wander the crowd and simply listen, feigning interest in the slaves.

Most were broken creatures, less than human with no spark in their eyes. Some were newly to their chains. She could tell because there was defiance in therm and the myth that their situation would soon change. Haeli knew that was less than the truth. Change came slowly here. New ideas were repressed and the old standby thoughts of how to make things work often took over everything.

As an herbalist, she knew a bit about plants and their health. Walking among the crops, she could also tell sometimes the land needed more than the farms provided. Yet no one heeded her words. The plants spoke to her, making requests, and sometimes nothing more than small talk or light banter. But she still strove to understand them and make things better. I twas a hard battle, but Haeli understood why her Goddess had sent her here. Witches could make a difference here. Witches could keep the crops from sprawling too badly and the artificial rows of cotton and tobacco from harming the swamp as much as they could. And they could destroy everything, if the humans took a mind to plant too much or sprawl to far flung.

And so it was that she came to these gatherings to listen, learn, and study the humans around her. The slaves she felt sorry for. But she didn't know how to help them or even if she should.

The young witch was dressed finer than she normally would have been. She preferred nothing at all, and especially feet that were bare. But here in the city, she wore a fine dress that placed her class somewhere above mundane and somewhere below Dynasty as was right for her station. Neither green nor blue but somewhere between both, like her eyes, was the color of the dress she wore. It was trimmed in black to match the short boots she wore. There were no weapons at her belt and nothing but a small black leather pouch that held a few necessities she needed. Haeli wasn't armed other than for the small knife she used to trim herbs.

Nevertheless she moved with a grace and a quality of a wild thing through the crowd. She walked the line of slaves, curious about them and putting up a front of mild interest. Then she worked the crowd, noting who might be here to purchase and who might be here just for the social occasion.

[Vice]

PlotnoteA slow start, but after the next round, the auction will start. I'm so sorry, Haeli T.T

A vibrant smile flickered across Sitai's face as he watched the assortment of lively characters cast themselves about in his hall. Some sat down, notably a rather well-built Akalak, a tan-skinned, lean-looking young man, and a woman with the most curious case of amethyst eyes, a colour that Sitai swore changed in the light. The auctioner's gaze cast about, noting the presence of the three Dynasty members, each more than punctual in their arrival.

Immediate arrival was not expected, the general custom of announcing one's auction about five to ten chimes before the event itself would begin was for a moment of socialization between the Dynasties, the Sitai merely wishing to foster an amiable atmosphere. After all, the more pleasant the atmosphere, the better the bids that came in. The Auctioner continued to twirl his hat about his fingers, frowning as he noticed two Freeborns clearly abusing the handkerchiefs that were in place. One ignored them entirely, but the other!

Sitai stepped towards the man, who he now recognized to be the doctor he had spoken to several days before. The Sitai took the handkerchief from the doctor's hands, gingerly holding it with but two fingers, the tainted cloth to be burned and scattered about the rivers of the swamp.

Though, the Sitai's features did not retain their frown for long. Merely a few ticks passed before the smile returned, the auctioner ceasing the motion of twirling his hat as he allowed a laugh to bubble artificially in his throat, his voice lowering to a whisper when he spoke,

"Ah, Doctor Weaver, my friend! Please, find your way downstairs. There should be a groomer waiting for you to assist her in the completion of her services. I have to say that I expected you earlier. Please be sure to arrive at least a bell before the auction is to begin. You have to understand the need to be thorough..."

The auctioner's words were spoken with intent, though his tone would replace the venom he felt for the doctor's tardiness. His service would possibly redeem them if rendered to his satisfaction, but already the Sitai could count the number of mizas that he was going to deduct from the price. Tardiness was not appreciated on an auction day. Nor was the poisoning of his bidding handkerchiefs.

~~~~~ o ~~~~~ o ~~~~~ o ~~~~~

A soft frown materialized across the features of the groomer hired by Marshal Sitai. Sadness materialized upon her features as the garbled moans of the slaves were heard, an anxious chatter set about the vicinity of the stables that confined the slaves. Presumably, the slaves bonded through the voyage that some underwent together. Others were captured together, even. Family, perhaps? It was irrelevant.

One among the rest was utterly silent, six souls conversing in somber quiet. The fifth stall along the line was opened, slender fingers traversing the wood of the stable before the groomer bent low in front of the woman. She was a Konti! A natural beauty, blonde, or white- the woman could never tell- hair cast upon her, framing her beautifully pale face. Gills could just be seen, scales along the exposed flesh of her arms and legs. The groomer seethed with envy before a smile cast upon her expression, the woman kneeling in front of the Konti. Two buckets were placed on the floor, water sloshing to the groomer's left side. Cosmetics were pulled from the other bucket, set in a triangle between herself and the woman.

Fingers brushed against the Konti's cheek, nails dragging along her skin, the smaller finger cutting her chin by mistake. Eyes widened before the woman quickly moved to her cosmetics, taking a container of face powder and opening it before she murmured, "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to... Oh, my... Mr. Sitai will be so upset if his most important item is damaged goods! Stay still, please. The doctor fix you up in a few chimes. You'll find a nice home, promise. I've heard about you, you know. A Konti woman, so lovely... so graceful..."

The container cracked as the woman's envy became apparent, though she did little to remedy this. She dropped the container and moved to a rag, dipping it into water and squeezing out the excess before trailing the rag along the Konti's dusty flesh, a motion akin to polishing a windowsill.

[Jay Ackina]

The sound of a book closing was the only sound to be heard in the Dynasty Library. Jay lifted a hand to his eyes, rubbing them wearily as he leaned back in his chair. The Ackina born pushed back his chair and stood, lifting the hefty book from the table and placed it back in its home on a shelf before heading towards the front of the building. A lone man sat rifling through some papers at the front desk. The man caught Jay’s eye before he exited the building.


“How was it?”


Jay looked over at the Pailli Dynasty member. The family was known to have the Stormwarden mark in their family line, but for some reason Payne had been skimmed over. That meant he had to find something to do with his life or risk being tossed out. He somehow ended up restoring the library and the two had become acquainted through Jay’s time spent researching tracking and hunting techniques. Dynasty differences set aside, a mutual respect had grown over time between them.


“Not done with it yet, but so far it has been very informative. I’m still getting a hang of the basics of tracking but so far the journal has been very helpful. You were right, thanks Pailli. I’ll be by again later.”


He gave the man a quick smile and nod before pushing open the door and stepping out into the sunlight. He could feel the humidity through his leather jacket and pants. Jay knew better than to wear such clothes but he felt most at home in them, rather than the usual finery most Dynasty members wore. They were still of high quality material but they were meant more for protection rather than decoration.


The faint sound of a bell ringing in the air caught his attention and he looked up, startled.


Oh shyke, its auction day. I totally lost track of time. I’ll miss the opening...Meh, whatever. How Dynastic of me to arrive fashionably late…


A grin tugged at the corner of his lips wryly as he stepped away from the building. He began walking through the streets, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, heading towards the other side of town. He gazed at the people milling around as he walked. Slaves and freeborn alike hurried about in groups of three and four, casting nervous glances behind themselves. They spoke to one another but instead of the usual chatter, they spoke in hushed tones.


Jay shook his head. The recent disappearances of slaves had set everyone on edge. Dynasty members were outraged, freeborn nervous and slaves terrified. No one understood what was happening and no one knew if it would happen again. Not a trace could be found and everyone could feel the tension in the air, buzzing as if an electric current ran through the cobblestone streets. Jay could only imagine what the auction would be like today. For some, it would be a much needed distraction from their problems, others a replacement for lost slaves. He could already feel the swirl of emotions that would soon blast him in the face that radiated from the citizens of Kenash when he stepped into the Auction Hall.


It was almost half a bell later when he crossed the last bridge towards the West Bank and arrived at the Auction House. A crowd as large as he imagined filled the area, marble benches milling with people as they stood, talking amongst themselves by the platform as they waited for the bidding to start. A trickle of people flowed into the Auction Hall and he joined the crowd, greeting people as he passed them. He didn’t feel inclined to stop and have any prolonged conversations with them so he let the crowd carry him where it pleased.


Jay eventually broke away from the horde of people and stationed himself by a wall. He was content with just watching as he leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, a polite yet guarded expression on his face.


Something interesting always went down in auctions. With tensions high and anxiety building from the recent events having taken place, he knew it was only a matter of time until something happened.


He just wanted to make sure he was there when it did.