A Slave, A Dead Man, or a Researcher? (Schon)

by **Mirage** on February 25th, 2013, 6:39 pm

10th of Spring, 513 AV
The Docks

The seas were rough as they always were around the Island of Sahova. Dark clouds shadowed the light of Syna's reign, and a light drizzle fell over the world as the barge was unloaded at the docks. The cargo, slaves of various races bound in chains and clothed in little more than rags and loincloth. All were dirty, bruised, beaten and bloody. Most held that same defeated look, others gazed in horror up at the Citadel. Many knew, especially the older races, just what it meant to be sent to Sahova. They were to be test subjects, slaves, and if they were lucky they might be fed once ever week or so. Those slaves that showed true promise might be offered an apprenticeship, or perhaps even a place in a lab. Those that were not so lucky... Well they would contemplate just what made the horrible howling noises just beyond the docks.

Within the masses there walked a slave, once known by the name Schon, but names had little meaning to a slave. His hands were bound in cuffs too small for him that bit into the skin of his wrists, and his ankles were bound as well. The clanking sound of the chains filled his world, the orders of the Captain a distant cry as he was marched in file with the rest. A small golem, a comunicator, rolled up and down the line, inspecting the slaves. Standing at the head of the line an Overseer gave out orders in the cold metalic voice that was common for its type. Its eyes shinning red fell on Schon as he drew near, and roughly it grabbed the man's face with its cold fingers, turning him from side to side.

"Specimen is passable. He will go to the first holding cell."

One of the Communicator golems scurried off with this information, heading in the direction of the warehouses to report to the higher ups. Releaseing Schon the Overseer would move on down the line, repeating the process of judgement. Those who did not pass were unchained from the line and grouped off to the side. Their fates were unknown, yet rumors were rampant that such slaves that were not fit for experimentation were chopped up and served as food for the ones judged worthy.

Without warning the line would begin to move at a slow march, heading past the Warehouses and up the long road to the Citadel. The path stetched on for miles, and the sounds of wild creatures only grew as they continued on. From time to time a larger Cylindrical Golem, a Peacekeeper golem, would roll by, showing that there was at least some consideration for safety of the slaves.

by **Schon** on February 27th, 2013, 9:00 am

The fog of unconsciousness cleared from my mind; as it lifted I slowly descended into the realization of my surroundings, the cold gray sky cut my vision like steel, salt air stung my eyes and throat. I shifted on deck, the captain's voice had woke me, and chain of the manacles clinked pulling on the others I was tethered to, which woke them as well. A few bodies down I met eyes that mirrored my own, tired or was it patient, as if prepared to soldier-on come what may.

Earlier, the first few days I had joined their caravan on march to the Isle, he had passed food my way when I did not eat. Instead I gave him mine as thanks for the kindness, but it wasn't until one of the others who had seen an Ethaefal before explained light from the Sun or Moon sustained us that he accepted the gesture. He was the first one to show kindness since my fall, and how I must have looked then; ill at ease, mad at the world and nearly resplendent in the pale moonlight. I ate no food, nor required assistance on the journey and as we had not been allowed to speak, it must have only played into the glaring difference between us. A few times I caught him staring, as others had, but I ignored it like the rest.

Too quickly I found my face in the cold vice of a golem, it turned my head one way then back the other, examining me like a child did a bug, coldly and without care or concern. I looked away in defiance once it released me and joined the group it had designated. It was hard to distinguish things then, everything felt muted; the grey sky, the salty air, the silent port. I noticed a few of the healthier and uninjured from the caravan had been placed with me as well, including the one who had shewn me first kindness. Silently I was thankful for this, he had become a sort of companion in suffering, something certain and recognizable like a landmark on a long journey.

The Citadel atop the long road dominated the view, and it wasn't hard to guess where we were headed. But there was something off about it, that stirred the soul with fear and the closer we approached the stronger the disquiet.

by **Mirage** on February 27th, 2013, 2:48 pm

For many Bells the slaves were made to march, endlessly, never slowing pace, moving closer and closer to the looming beast that was Sahova. On either side of the path barren land stretched. A few stray outcroppings of trees, gnarled and twisted, lay within sight in the distance, but mostly it was dirt and rock and what little weeds could live in this area.

Slowly, ever so slowly the high stone walls of the Citadel loomed into view, and quiet murmurs from the other Slaves were quickly silenced by the Overseer that lead them. The man beside Schon, the one who had shown him such kindness, would offer a frightened smile, a mockery of reassurance, but it was truly the best he could offer.

Without a an obvious signal from the Overseer, the Portcullis raised, and the line was moved within the stone walls. Down a broken stone path they would tread, passing buy broken statures of what were the greatest Wizards of the Alahean empire. This place, this garden of stone, might have been called beautiful at one time, but the ravages of eternity had taken its toll, and the nuits cared little for the frivolities of artwork. Thus the garden was now in disarray. Large stone flowerpots cracked, stone benches in pieces, and what little plants that did grow were no more than weeds and could not be called plants at all.

Then through a second portcullis, and finally they would find themselves within the Vestibule. The large TAR golem gazed down at them all with its soulless eyes, yet before it could speak the Overseer raised its hand, "Test subjects for admittance. Open the gates."

The sounds of mechanisms working, and behind the TAR two large double doors opened up to the Courtyard. There waited for them a small crowd of Sahovan Wizards, huttled around a tomb that looked very much like a pedistal. Off to the side of the path, leaning over a grave, the Courtyard Caretaker Wanda worked quietly, not bothering to look up as the slaves were brought in and lined up just off the path. The sounds of the restless spirits grew, but with a wave of her hand Wanda silenced them. Still the slaves would hear them. Soft whispers, warnings, calls to run, foreshadowing of their future. They would fill tugs at their clothing and hair as they were inspected by the ghosts, some cackling and laughing, for they knew that soon they would have more to share in their torment.

The Overseer would step up before the gathering of Wizards, speaking in a louder voice, "You may inspect the specimens and make your decisions. They will be auctioned to the highest bidder."

Stepping aside, the Wizards would all move forward, tugging at hair, inspecting teeth and gums, poking and prodding as they began deciding which of the test subjects they could use in their experiments. A few notable figures walked among the crowd as well. Roknus Malestrom glided through the group, pulling more roughly than necessary at limbs and hair. His lab was always in need of more slaves, though his reputation of going through them quickly was well known by the other Wizards of Sahova. Grombard Shrag found interest in a few as well, though he merely gazed into the eyes of certain individuals, who would either break down in fits of tears or tremble in silence.

Among the group of slaves there were also two rather rare specimens that had caught the eye of quite a few of those gathered. A male Zith stood tall, hate in his eyes as his chained wings fluttered angrily against his back. He bared his fangs at all her approached, puffing himself up to be as menacing as possible. Close to the back there was also a Symenestra female who stood tall, head held back and eyes narrowed in a haughty expression. Her thin frame was ragged from starvation, but a strength in the set of her jaws and the way she bared her own poisonous fangs when she smiled showed there was still some fight left in her.

OOC :

by **Mienskil Ostovik** on February 27th, 2013, 7:53 pm

Mienskil was one of the first to arrive, having been caught inactive by the arrival of the slaves. Though he wasn't the first by far, he wasn't in the feed of information enough for that, but he was able to beat a few of even the more experienced wizards. Those maps of the Citadel had helped a lot. He even recognized the crazy wizard that had tried to kill him on Mienskil's first trip to the Elements Santcum arrive after him, Maelstrom if memory served correct. While Sahova wasn't becoming a home to him yet, he was certainly finding more here then he could anywhere else, and already he was growing familiar with the place enough to be here among the others.

Being a Magecrafter, one might not expect the relatively new arrival-turned-wizard to have need of these slaves that were brought in for auctioning. However, if one were familiar with some of the particulars of the science, they would know that there were several uses for a test subject. Various reagents both catalogued and uncatalogued remained to be observed and their results recorded, and Mienskil was too valuable to his own research to test them on himself. It wouldn't be a violent killing, just a simple cut or prick to see what effects it may have. For the more dangerous and potentially unstable weapons as well, it would help to have the hands holding and using it belong to someone else. With all the opportunities of Magecrafting, there were a fair few risks involved as well, and they could be shaved off of Mienskil and onto an assistant if he procured one of thse slaves.

As the little beaten gabg of captives entered the Courtyard, Mienskil stood at the edge of the crowd of wizards, observing. Dirt covered the exposed parts of their bodies, and their clothes were little more than rags in some cases. They seemed defeated, worn and wearied from the journey, though Mienskil had no idea what it felt like nor what that would mean. He himself had no experience with slaves of that sort, being a Zeltivan born and raised, but the conceot was simple enough. These people were captured and thus could be bought and sold for by those who captured them. In this case, it appeared the Citadel had acquired these slaves for their own use, a fact that the Magecrafter aimed to take advantage of. Consternstion at the practice was suspiciously absent from the Magecrafter's thoughts.

Once the Overseer bade them start, Mienskil was one of the last to arrive at the group of slaves. While the others poked and prodded them like so much cattle, gauging their usefulness as targets or specimens, the Magecrafter carried himself with a bit more decency, deducting as much as he could visually before he bothered to test anything else. There wasn't much to any of them physically, after all pulsers on the island rarely ate well and slaves probably had it even worse, but there wasn't much of a physical aspect to Magecraft either. What Mienskil was looking for wasn't someone especially steong (or in some cases especially normal), but someone who could do the work with energy and dedication.

Towards the back, a good candidate seemed to appear in the form of a pale woman with fangs in front of her teeth. She'd garnered quite a bit of attention though, and Mienskil had no intention of outting up with competition. Settling for the slave nearest to him at that point, he began suspecting the prospective assistant. Graceful features with long dark hair, a certain elegance and spirit that Mienskil found absent in most of the others. Curious, he approached. "What do you know how to do?" he asked. It was probably strange he was actually talking to a slave, but Magecraft was a science of the mind as much as the body and physical properties.

by **Vick** on March 4th, 2013, 11:25 pm

Vick found himself sitting at his desk writing down in a journal about numbers. It was his seasonal grants that he was working out. In total is was a bit over 3,000 and he marked down he would spent half on items for malediction and have a bit for bidding on the new shipment. He just nodded to himself as he got up yet before he could turn away from his desk his door swung open as a pluser gave him a letter.

Vick just had to blink as he read it as the pluser ran out of the room.

‘Vick, busy. Bid for me. -Rayage’

A short and simple letter that made Vick laugh to himself as it did sound like the master wizard as he took the letter with him. Since Sahova did grants, he did not carry any money on him as everything was noted in the main office and that was how they could not scam anything.

Vick made his way down towards the event and looked upon the batch. Most were common slaves but three stood out. A Ethaefal, a Zith and a Symenestra. Vick knew he now had to make two bids and he had to make the right choices.

Without pause he went to the overseer as he passed by the subjects and other wizards without any more thought for Vick was a person of actions or at least he was told as the young child like body moved about.

“One bid for Rayage - 1,000 starting for the Male Zith. One bid for Vick, Symenestra 1,000 and 10 common slaves for 500.” Vick said without doubting himself as he felt Rayage would want the Zith more than the ethaefal for his research.

by **Thomas Cosa** on March 5th, 2013, 6:06 am

"Little shyke," Thomas thought bitterly, his lips pursing as Vick named his bid. It was an obvious choice, bidding for both the Symenestra and Zith. Both were rare, both species incredibly difficult to capture. The Zith were, of course, infamous for their savagery, and the Symenestra, well, Thomas had only heard rumors and stories regarding the spidery race. They were incredibly poisonous, or so he had been told. Surely, any other wizard would be interested in that racial aspect - Vick would only hold interest for her bones.

Lab 15 could have used either, but only as long as they were alive. A Symenestra would have offered a whole new design for golems, with their lithe frame and disposable venom. A Zith might even allow a design for flight -- something that would have surely put Thomas on the map.

With a small sign, and a glance of pity, Thomas turned away from the two, instead focusing on what remained. Nothing more than a few starving humans, although among them some of the slaves look somewhat salvageable. The was nothing more for a slave to do in Lab 15 than manual labor, and even then, few lasted.

Thomas frowned, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to outbid the nuit-child, started to leave, however, before he even managed to turn his body, a slight shiver shot through his left arm, his eyes drastically unfocused, and for the briefest moment, a purple light flashed underneath the heavy leather of his gloved hand.

Mathematical equations decorated parchment in heavy ink, a quick mind clever enough to divulge the answers from the complexing questions. Lines and symbols marked other pages, drawing out markers and predicting patterns in nature. Deciding speed, and decoding distance. Arches and weights, untested, and yet through written practice, the outcomes already known.

Thomas breathed deeply as his vision faded, and his eyes focused again on the remaining slaves. Especially one in particular.

Thomas smiled, and silently gave thanks to his goddess. She had once again guided him to the answer he had been searching for, and now had found. She had shown him one talented in ways he was not, talented in way that could further his Sahovan career.

"Lab 15 bids 200," Thomas stated, pointing at the two seemingly most healthy humans, and at Schon, "For three slaves," he finished satisfied. Perhaps it was a hefty amount for human slaves, but still, his lady had given someone with talent. Someone with the skills he could use to further himself.

And Thomas wasn't about to let him get away.

by **Schon** on March 7th, 2013, 9:49 am

As quiet as the isle had been, the journey there was anything but. There were whispers: the dead walked, spirits haunted the island, the living never returned. All these things crossed my mind as we lined up in front the makeshift assembly. And as invisible things tugged at the edge of perception, and cold hands prodded, I couldn't help but look out in a mix of despite and -oddly enough- a sense of calm; some might have called it defiance. It was a feeling as if I had been here before, not where I stood at the castle or even the isle, but that I had been before and I would be again.

Somewhere in that jumbled dream of a memory I took heart.

"What do you know how to do?" asked a shorter gaunt man. His eyes sat in sunken dark circles, like most wizards, but he had none of the associated rot that clung to the face. I was still in a fog of sorts, so when he spoke to me it felt like he did from a great distance away. Not that I wanted to answer and give even more of myself than they had already taken. Though absently the answer came to mind, automatically even, an answer that held none of me.

"If equals are added to equals, then the wholes are equal...If equals are subtracted from equals, then the remainders are equal..." I said, barely above a whisper.

The wizards, as I would come to know them, of Sahova laid bids, in ear shot of us. One of them bid 200 for two of the others and I. There was nonchalance to the whole affair, being talked about and our worth measure, it was humiliating. The thought that I represented a third of the sum was absurd but every time I thought about it, instead of anger I saw a line of sixes, it stretched on and on and on in my mind's eye, endlessly. It outpaced the castle I stood in, or the wizards that callously traded us, it just kept going, until everything was the number six.

I was brought out of my retrieve when a man beside me collapsed in a fit of sobs. The shadow of a wizard lay across the trembling man, it seemed to have a weight of its own, that pressed not on the body but on the mind of the man beneath. The figure continued down the line, and the shadow fell on me. It seemed to eclipse the light of the Sun from view, for everything went dark and it grew cold, as if the warmth of the day were a mere memory. I shivered, a shiver that threatened to turn into a tremble. In the darkness, I was not alone, something whispered, many somethings...but before they could close in the wizard moved on, and with him his shadow.

I took a deep breath but failed to suppress the trembling.

by **Mirage** on March 12th, 2013, 5:06 pm

The Wizards were allowed five chimes to view the stock, to look them over before the Overseer took its place on the Pedistal like tomb in the center. Speaking in a loud metallic voice it clearly stated, "The review period is over. The bidding will now commence."

Pausing for half a tick it calculated up the bids it had received previously, "Starting bid from Rayage of Lab 45E, 1000 GM for the Male Zith Specimen." At this call the Zith snarled, baring its fangs and struggling its bonds, "Bid has been raised, 1500 GM from Lab 27C."

****

"Starting bid from Vick of Lab 33E, 1000 GM for the Female Symenestra Specimen." A hand raised in the crowd, a hand covered in colorful clothing with peacock feathers, "Bid has been met and raised to 1300 GM."

****

"Lab 15 has been awarded two slaves, 50 GM a piece."

"Vick of Lab 33E has been awarded 10 slaves at 50 GM a piece."

****

The rest of the slaves were sold, each being taken by their masters and move to the side out of the way until only one was left. Schon would be left shivering, chains clasped at his wrist all alone before the mass of nuits Wizards. The Overseer would speak up once the crowds had settled and all other slaves accommodated for, "One final Slave has received multiple bids. The highest starts at 75 GM for Malestrom of Cavernous Lab 7-M."

Malestrom stood off to the side, having collected three slaves of his own, and his eyes glittered hungrily as they looked over Schon. Rubbing his hands together, he seemed all to eager to take him back to his own lab to begin testing his new play thing...

OOCAll of these bids are happening in order one after the other, but in your threads you only bid on the ones that you want. So even though I am listing them all at once they are actually happening, in real time, one after the other. The Zith will be bid for, then the Sym, then the rest, ect.

by **Mienskil Ostovik** on March 13th, 2013, 2:59 am

Mienskil heard the slave reply, but wasn't quite sure what it was supposed to mean. While it sounded like there might have been some deeper meaning to it at one point, what came out was likely a result of being entirely broken and rambling only vague responses. There was potential there, perhaps a mind that was once powerful and strong, but in its current state there was no use to Mienskil. Though he made an especial note of this slave's appearance so that he could be found later, it'd be interesting to see how he developed (if he survived that is) and perhaps after someone else unlocked the intelligence he could hope to see some collaboration.

That said, aside from the Zith and Symenestra there were no others that even remotely interested him. Some were similarly broken, some were just dumb, others were too rebellious, but mostly they lacked a certain adventurous spark that Mienskil liked to think of as boldness to play with the dangerous science that was Magecraft. When the bidding opened, he immediately knew that he would not be taking any; the two exotic species had opened bidding at amounts far too high for his comfort. With less than two thousand for his grant, he did not consider the potential reward great enough to outweigh the immediate cost, especially since the role could easily be filled later by someone cheaper and less rebellious.

For a few moments he looked across the crowd of wizards and the people they were bidding on, looking to the different bidders as they placed considerable sums of money on people who were likely only to be used for experimentation and then thrown away. What a waste of potential. Without waiting for the auction to end, he made his way back to his lab, eager to resume his important work there. A project had been sitting idle, and it'd been that way for far too long, less than a bell being "too long" for the Magecrafter.

by **Vick** on March 13th, 2013, 2:21 pm

The young child wanted to stomp his feet at the fact he was shot down twice for bids. He did not know how much Rayage wanted to spend on this project as he knew he would yell at him if he lost the bid and even yell at him if he went over the ideal bid.

“Rayage bids 1800 GM and Vick bids 1500 GM”

Vick said to the bidder as the child looked upon the two races that he was in a battle with. He had to get them or at least one of them. He still had a bit more room to go with but even as that thought passed inside his head he knew he had to stop this nonsense and crush any hopes of a bidding war.

“Rayage bids 2400 GM and Vick bids 2400 GM as well.”

He said at last looking back at the bidder. Really Vick did not want to be here anymore and he knew the rough guess of how much Rayage had to spend.

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