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<blockquote data-quote="havenstone" data-source="post: 4795855" data-attributes="member: 61094"><p><strong>On the Block</strong></p><p></p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">THE BUYERS SURGE</span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'"> in. Auctioneers for the legion step up to each slave block and begin unshackling the slaves one by one and dragging them forward for inspection and sale. The auctioneer on their block begins with Lucian, declaring him a Northern warrior who would make a fine bodyguard. After fierce competition, the party’s Caragond friend is led away by a sharp-featured, middle-aged woman who eyes him appreciatively and comments that her “last champion fell in the Grand Arena at the summer games.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Several of their other cagemates are sold in quick succession. Then, as Lune is brought forward, one of the legionnaire guards who taught him to <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4769825-post77.html" target="_blank">play the tiles</a> gives a quick nod to two oily-looking Xaimani in the middle of the auction yard. The two men make a strong opening bid for Lune. Carwyn tries to shuffle forward with Hamber to catch Lune’s arm, but the guards restrain her. After a few other quick bids, the auctioneer declares Lune sold, and pushes him off the block. “For that much money, he’d best be as good as you say he is,” one of Lune’s new owners says darkly to the grinning soldier.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Put him on any table you please; he’ll win you back your gold in a week,” the guard promises in an undertone. The gamblers shrug and turn to leave. When Lune digs in his heels and points back to Carwyn, he receives a punch that almost breaks his nose. “One of you costs more than enough,” his new master snarls.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“<em>No</em> -- no, you can’t separate us,” Carwyn screams.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Woman, if you want to keep your child, hold your tongue,” hisses another guard. Carwyn collapses to her knees, sobbing, as Lune is hauled away.</span></p><p> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">ONTAYA IS GRIMLY </span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">working to keep her fury in check when hears the <em>cadan</em>’s voice behind her. “This is the woman, slavemaster.” Turning, she sees the legionnaire commander accompanied by an older, shorn-headed Xaimani wearing muted gray slaveclothes and a fine silver chain around his neck with a Xaimani symbol pendant.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“This is the one who comes with the <em>qil-ayan</em>’s recommendation?” The slavemaster regards Ontaya dispassionately.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“She kept everyone in her cage alive.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I could not have done it without my friends,” Ontaya says at once. “They helped to keep order -- one leader alone could not have achieved it.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The bald Xaimani nods dubiously, looking over the little group. “Such is the way of things.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Order can be better preserved by keeping a strong group than by dividing a house,” <em>cadan</em> Tshien Lo Dan says piously, clearly hoping to sell the party together at a set price.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I have found it so myself. However, I do not know how many Northerners the Minister will require.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">While they haggle, Ontaya suddenly senses (against the general backdrop of selfishness and callousness) a stronger, sharper evil than any she has felt in her life -- a deep and cultivated malice, a cruelty so immense and inhumane it defies description. Her muscles clench as every instinct pushes her to charge from her block and attack the abomination. Instead, she cautiously turns her head and finds her eyes drawn to a tall, fine-featured man wearing long robes of ebon and gold under an elaborate black silk mantle. The elegant Xaimani has walked up to the blocks where the party and their cage-mates are being sold. His dark, serene eyes drift across Ontaya’s face; for a moment she is certain that he has sensed her presence, just as she sensed his. Then he looks emotionlessly away and calls out, “Three hundred for <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4766587-post76.html" target="_blank">the prophet boy</a>.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“The Jendae to Archmaster Orozu,” the auctioneer responds at once. Korael, who had clearly not expected to have much bid for him, goes pale as he is dragged from the block. The black-mantled Xaimani also outbids several other buyers for <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4752842-post73.html" target="_blank">Curago</a>. Then Atrix is unchained and brought forward. Ontaya feels her stomach churn as Orozu regards Atrix with sharp, thoughtful interest and raises his hand to claim the auctioneer’s attention. The young paladin whirls to try to convince the <em>cadan</em>’s favored slavemaster to bid on them.</span></p><p> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">ATRIX, HOWEVER, HAS </span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">eyes only for the Imperial Chancellor, who has been wandering around the blocks chatting indulgently to several nobles. “Exalted Chancellor!” Atrix calls out in his most practiced Xaimani accent. The nobles catch their breath at this impertinence, and the three nearest guards angrily swing their staves and clubs in Atrix’s direction. The dexterous young d’Loriad ducks under their blows and spins into a deep obeisance. “Exalted Chancellor, forgive me for daring to speak in your presence.” He springs up into the air, again managing to escape the irate guards’ attacks. “But whether the Imperial Palace seeks a slave to serve gracefully, or to tell glorious tales of far-off lands, or to dance--” dodging a staff-- “you will find none here more capable than I.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Let him be,” Chancellor Hun says to the guards, sounding amused. “You have learned some eloquence in the common tongue, slave.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I am a quick learner, noble lord,” Atrix declares. “I know the stories, songs, and dances of my own people well, and I can learn a thousand others.” <em>And if I’m going to be sold, then let me be sold to none lower than the Xaimani Emperor himself...</em></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Chancellor smiles benignly. “Five hundred for this one, <em>cadan</em>. He looks healthier than the others, and he may amuse the princes.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Six hundred.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Again a handful of gasps arise, as Archmaster Orozu speaks out above the clamor. The Chancellor does not turn his head, but his voice acquires a distinct note of displeasure. “Eight hundred.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Nine hundred.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“One thousand.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“One thousand, two hundred.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“<em>Two thousand</em>,” Chancellor Hun grates. A silence falls all around them. Ontaya releases her breath slowly as Orozu bows, his lips pressed together, and stalks off to join another auction. Curago and Korael are marched close behind him by his guards.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Imperial Chancellor approaches the block to regard Atrix, his amusement gone. “The Archmaster clearly appreciates stories and dance more than I had imagined,” he remarks coldly to the <em>cadan</em>. “There must be scant amusement on the estate of Minister Goru.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Exalted Chancellor,” Darren ventures in a humble voice. The guards hesitate, unsure whether any of the Northern slaves are to be beaten for insolence. The Chancellor is clearly considering the same question. Darren continues hurriedly, not wanting to let Atrix be sold all by himself, and hoping to stick with his good friend. “Exalted Chancellor, I also know many stories of the peoples above the earth and the peoples below it -- and none of the other slaves have my gifts as a craftsman, with springs and gears and machines.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The Chancellor purses his lips. “You understand the workings of mechanical devices?” When Darren nods eagerly, the Imperial official strokes his long, wispy beard.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Glorious and exalted Chancellor,” Atrix murmurs, “he was indeed known in the North as the most clever and, er, new-machine-making young man in our humble nation.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“Exalted one,” the <em>cadan</em> hurriedly says, “if you consider this second slave to be of any worth at all, please accept him as a gift to the glory of the Emperor’s name.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“The eternal Emperor accepts your generosity,” the Chancellor says, still sounding disgruntled from his bidding war. Atrix dares a cheerful, slightly smug wink at the relieved Darren. “But having ceded the Imperial right to these spoils, we will not deprive our nobility of any more slaves today. Let these two be given to Slavemaster Chang and brought to the Palace.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Ontaya is rubbing her head in weary incredulity at Atrix and Darren managing to get themselves sold to the Emperor. Then behind her, a voice speaks decisively. “Name your price, <em>cadan</em>. The Minister will have these remaining slaves and their young.” The slavemaster’s gesture takes in Ontaya, Meeshak, Carwyn, Kyla, and Ash.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“The Minister is both wise and generous,” Tshien Lo Dan says without inflection, and leans in to whisper in the older man’s ear. The shaven-headed senior slave nods again, and the remaining survivors from Rim Square are led down from the block.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“I am Slavemaster Daoran, head of the Tziwan estates of His Excellency the Minister of State,” their purchaser informs them. “Consider yourselves most fortunate to become the property of Minister Tang. His glory is reflected to even his least possessions, and an obedient slave will know a good life in His Excellency’s service.” The party members nod, though Carwyn still looks shattered. They are led away together along the same road by which they entered the market. Darren looks mournfully after them, but cheers himself up with the prospect that the Imperial Palace might conceivably offer more resources -- both to build his understanding of Xaimani society, and to arrange an escape.</span></p><p> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">ANOTHER SLAVEMASTER</span></strong><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">, a short and decorous-looking Xaimani, soon walks over to Darren and Atrix. “You are the two who so impressed the Exalted Chancellor?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“His Exaltedness was kind enough to recognize us,” Atrix says, bowing low.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Their custodian raises one eyebrow slightly. “The Exalted Chancellor is always referred to as His Magnificence. ‘Exaltedness’ is not a word. I am Slavemaster Chang of the Imperial Palace. Follow me.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">As the three make their way out of the slave market, they pass a block where Kay and Agerain stand, both looking sicker than ever as they are jabbed and examined by a dozen potential buyers. Atrix grabs at the chance. “Slavemaster Chang: that girl may be unwell, but she is a dancer of exquisite skill.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The short Xaimani looks dubious. As he considers Kay, a black-robed man who is examining Agerain lets out a sharp breath. “Auctioneer -- this one bears the mark of the oldest curse!” He is holding back Agerain’s lank hair to reveal the <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4734218-post63.html" target="_blank">round white mark</a> on his forehead.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">The bidding and prodding immediately cease, as the would-be buyers shrink away. “No wonder he looks so sick,” a noble says with contempt. “What about the girl?”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">To Darren and Atrix’s dismay, the Xaimani part Kay’s matted hair and expose the spot on her forehead where she was <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4737204-post64.html" target="_blank">kissed by Death</a>. The embarrassed auctioneer quickly shuffles them both off the block.</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">A slaver near Atrix shakes his head with a grimace. “Waste of good space. Should have checked those two before bringing them all this way.”</span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">Atrix looks to him in desperation. “Where will they be sold, sir?” </span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Verdana'">“The Mines of Graiqal,” the slaver replies as Slavemaster Chang beckons the two of them onward. “They might live out the week.”</span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="havenstone, post: 4795855, member: 61094"] [b]On the Block[/b] [B][FONT=Verdana]THE BUYERS SURGE[/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana] in. Auctioneers for the legion step up to each slave block and begin unshackling the slaves one by one and dragging them forward for inspection and sale. The auctioneer on their block begins with Lucian, declaring him a Northern warrior who would make a fine bodyguard. After fierce competition, the party’s Caragond friend is led away by a sharp-featured, middle-aged woman who eyes him appreciatively and comments that her “last champion fell in the Grand Arena at the summer games.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Several of their other cagemates are sold in quick succession. Then, as Lune is brought forward, one of the legionnaire guards who taught him to [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4769825-post77.html"]play the tiles[/URL] gives a quick nod to two oily-looking Xaimani in the middle of the auction yard. The two men make a strong opening bid for Lune. Carwyn tries to shuffle forward with Hamber to catch Lune’s arm, but the guards restrain her. After a few other quick bids, the auctioneer declares Lune sold, and pushes him off the block. “For that much money, he’d best be as good as you say he is,” one of Lune’s new owners says darkly to the grinning soldier.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Put him on any table you please; he’ll win you back your gold in a week,” the guard promises in an undertone. The gamblers shrug and turn to leave. When Lune digs in his heels and points back to Carwyn, he receives a punch that almost breaks his nose. “One of you costs more than enough,” his new master snarls.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“[I]No[/I] -- no, you can’t separate us,” Carwyn screams.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Woman, if you want to keep your child, hold your tongue,” hisses another guard. Carwyn collapses to her knees, sobbing, as Lune is hauled away.[/FONT] [B][FONT=Verdana]ONTAYA IS GRIMLY [/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana]working to keep her fury in check when hears the [I]cadan[/I]’s voice behind her. “This is the woman, slavemaster.” Turning, she sees the legionnaire commander accompanied by an older, shorn-headed Xaimani wearing muted gray slaveclothes and a fine silver chain around his neck with a Xaimani symbol pendant.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“This is the one who comes with the [I]qil-ayan[/I]’s recommendation?” The slavemaster regards Ontaya dispassionately.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“She kept everyone in her cage alive.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I could not have done it without my friends,” Ontaya says at once. “They helped to keep order -- one leader alone could not have achieved it.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The bald Xaimani nods dubiously, looking over the little group. “Such is the way of things.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Order can be better preserved by keeping a strong group than by dividing a house,” [I]cadan[/I] Tshien Lo Dan says piously, clearly hoping to sell the party together at a set price.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I have found it so myself. However, I do not know how many Northerners the Minister will require.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]While they haggle, Ontaya suddenly senses (against the general backdrop of selfishness and callousness) a stronger, sharper evil than any she has felt in her life -- a deep and cultivated malice, a cruelty so immense and inhumane it defies description. Her muscles clench as every instinct pushes her to charge from her block and attack the abomination. Instead, she cautiously turns her head and finds her eyes drawn to a tall, fine-featured man wearing long robes of ebon and gold under an elaborate black silk mantle. The elegant Xaimani has walked up to the blocks where the party and their cage-mates are being sold. His dark, serene eyes drift across Ontaya’s face; for a moment she is certain that he has sensed her presence, just as she sensed his. Then he looks emotionlessly away and calls out, “Three hundred for [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4766587-post76.html"]the prophet boy[/URL].”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“The Jendae to Archmaster Orozu,” the auctioneer responds at once. Korael, who had clearly not expected to have much bid for him, goes pale as he is dragged from the block. The black-mantled Xaimani also outbids several other buyers for [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4752842-post73.html"]Curago[/URL]. Then Atrix is unchained and brought forward. Ontaya feels her stomach churn as Orozu regards Atrix with sharp, thoughtful interest and raises his hand to claim the auctioneer’s attention. The young paladin whirls to try to convince the [I]cadan[/I]’s favored slavemaster to bid on them.[/FONT] [B][FONT=Verdana]ATRIX, HOWEVER, HAS [/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana]eyes only for the Imperial Chancellor, who has been wandering around the blocks chatting indulgently to several nobles. “Exalted Chancellor!” Atrix calls out in his most practiced Xaimani accent. The nobles catch their breath at this impertinence, and the three nearest guards angrily swing their staves and clubs in Atrix’s direction. The dexterous young d’Loriad ducks under their blows and spins into a deep obeisance. “Exalted Chancellor, forgive me for daring to speak in your presence.” He springs up into the air, again managing to escape the irate guards’ attacks. “But whether the Imperial Palace seeks a slave to serve gracefully, or to tell glorious tales of far-off lands, or to dance--” dodging a staff-- “you will find none here more capable than I.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Let him be,” Chancellor Hun says to the guards, sounding amused. “You have learned some eloquence in the common tongue, slave.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I am a quick learner, noble lord,” Atrix declares. “I know the stories, songs, and dances of my own people well, and I can learn a thousand others.” [I]And if I’m going to be sold, then let me be sold to none lower than the Xaimani Emperor himself...[/I][/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Chancellor smiles benignly. “Five hundred for this one, [I]cadan[/I]. He looks healthier than the others, and he may amuse the princes.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Six hundred.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Again a handful of gasps arise, as Archmaster Orozu speaks out above the clamor. The Chancellor does not turn his head, but his voice acquires a distinct note of displeasure. “Eight hundred.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Nine hundred.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“One thousand.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“One thousand, two hundred.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“[I]Two thousand[/I],” Chancellor Hun grates. A silence falls all around them. Ontaya releases her breath slowly as Orozu bows, his lips pressed together, and stalks off to join another auction. Curago and Korael are marched close behind him by his guards.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Imperial Chancellor approaches the block to regard Atrix, his amusement gone. “The Archmaster clearly appreciates stories and dance more than I had imagined,” he remarks coldly to the [I]cadan[/I]. “There must be scant amusement on the estate of Minister Goru.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Exalted Chancellor,” Darren ventures in a humble voice. The guards hesitate, unsure whether any of the Northern slaves are to be beaten for insolence. The Chancellor is clearly considering the same question. Darren continues hurriedly, not wanting to let Atrix be sold all by himself, and hoping to stick with his good friend. “Exalted Chancellor, I also know many stories of the peoples above the earth and the peoples below it -- and none of the other slaves have my gifts as a craftsman, with springs and gears and machines.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The Chancellor purses his lips. “You understand the workings of mechanical devices?” When Darren nods eagerly, the Imperial official strokes his long, wispy beard.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Glorious and exalted Chancellor,” Atrix murmurs, “he was indeed known in the North as the most clever and, er, new-machine-making young man in our humble nation.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“Exalted one,” the [I]cadan[/I] hurriedly says, “if you consider this second slave to be of any worth at all, please accept him as a gift to the glory of the Emperor’s name.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“The eternal Emperor accepts your generosity,” the Chancellor says, still sounding disgruntled from his bidding war. Atrix dares a cheerful, slightly smug wink at the relieved Darren. “But having ceded the Imperial right to these spoils, we will not deprive our nobility of any more slaves today. Let these two be given to Slavemaster Chang and brought to the Palace.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Ontaya is rubbing her head in weary incredulity at Atrix and Darren managing to get themselves sold to the Emperor. Then behind her, a voice speaks decisively. “Name your price, [I]cadan[/I]. The Minister will have these remaining slaves and their young.” The slavemaster’s gesture takes in Ontaya, Meeshak, Carwyn, Kyla, and Ash.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“The Minister is both wise and generous,” Tshien Lo Dan says without inflection, and leans in to whisper in the older man’s ear. The shaven-headed senior slave nods again, and the remaining survivors from Rim Square are led down from the block.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“I am Slavemaster Daoran, head of the Tziwan estates of His Excellency the Minister of State,” their purchaser informs them. “Consider yourselves most fortunate to become the property of Minister Tang. His glory is reflected to even his least possessions, and an obedient slave will know a good life in His Excellency’s service.” The party members nod, though Carwyn still looks shattered. They are led away together along the same road by which they entered the market. Darren looks mournfully after them, but cheers himself up with the prospect that the Imperial Palace might conceivably offer more resources -- both to build his understanding of Xaimani society, and to arrange an escape.[/FONT] [B][FONT=Verdana]ANOTHER SLAVEMASTER[/FONT][/B][FONT=Verdana], a short and decorous-looking Xaimani, soon walks over to Darren and Atrix. “You are the two who so impressed the Exalted Chancellor?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“His Exaltedness was kind enough to recognize us,” Atrix says, bowing low.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Their custodian raises one eyebrow slightly. “The Exalted Chancellor is always referred to as His Magnificence. ‘Exaltedness’ is not a word. I am Slavemaster Chang of the Imperial Palace. Follow me.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]As the three make their way out of the slave market, they pass a block where Kay and Agerain stand, both looking sicker than ever as they are jabbed and examined by a dozen potential buyers. Atrix grabs at the chance. “Slavemaster Chang: that girl may be unwell, but she is a dancer of exquisite skill.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The short Xaimani looks dubious. As he considers Kay, a black-robed man who is examining Agerain lets out a sharp breath. “Auctioneer -- this one bears the mark of the oldest curse!” He is holding back Agerain’s lank hair to reveal the [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4734218-post63.html"]round white mark[/URL] on his forehead.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]The bidding and prodding immediately cease, as the would-be buyers shrink away. “No wonder he looks so sick,” a noble says with contempt. “What about the girl?”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]To Darren and Atrix’s dismay, the Xaimani part Kay’s matted hair and expose the spot on her forehead where she was [URL="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4737204-post64.html"]kissed by Death[/URL]. The embarrassed auctioneer quickly shuffles them both off the block.[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]A slaver near Atrix shakes his head with a grimace. “Waste of good space. Should have checked those two before bringing them all this way.”[/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]Atrix looks to him in desperation. “Where will they be sold, sir?” [/FONT] [FONT=Verdana]“The Mines of Graiqal,” the slaver replies as Slavemaster Chang beckons the two of them onward. “They might live out the week.”[/FONT] [/QUOTE]
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