Open [Auction House] Sold.

(60th of Fall)

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

This lazy agricultural settlement rests on the swampy shores of the Middle Suvan at the delta of The Kenash River. The River's slow moving bayou waters have bred a different sort of people - rugged, cultured, and somewhat violent. Sprawling plantations of tobacco and cotton grow on the outskirts of the swamp in the rich Cyphrus soils, while the city itself curls around the bayou and spawns decadence and sins of all sorts. Life is slower in Kenash, but the lack of pace is made up for in the excesses of food and flesh in a city where drinking, debauchery, gambling, slavery, and overbearing plantation families dominate the landscape.

Moderator: Gossamer

[Auction House] Sold.

Postby Orion Michaels on September 4th, 2014, 7:19 pm

60th of Fall, 514 AV
Auction House
Afternoon


He had only been in Kenash a few days, but he still had not gotten used to the smell. Humid. Moist. Oppressive. Not that he hd been allowed to really experience the city of excess. From the moment Orion had been brought into the city, his captors had him blindfolded, bound, and gagged. If not for the metaphorical gold they had spied upon his back –that mark from Yahal- Orion’s constant attempts to escape and his ceaseless goading would have likely had him stabbed and left in the wilderness. The ex-squire was worth far more alive than he was dead. It was a fact that he had used to his advantage in annoying his captors.

He had heard Rudolph, the man tasked as his ‘handler’, speaking with a stranger outside his prison. An auction awaited him. ”The bastard is strong,” Rudolph said. ”Handy with a blade, but won’t spill on what else he can do. Still, with that mark on his back, I bet some rich fool will pay to have him and show off.” Talked about like some possession. It made his blood boil. Were people really so callous? Slavery was actively hunted within the walls of Syliras. It appeared that this ‘Kenash’ not only welcomed slave trade, but thrived off of its existence.

It was surreal. After a year of relative stability by his standards, Orion’s life found itself upended for the last two seasons. He’d left the order to commit to protecting his daughter, his son, and his son’s mother, but now he was thousands of miles away, and they were…well… he had no idea. Surely the gods were laughing. He was completely powerless to do anything about it.

All Orion could do was wait. Wait and see what happened. Wait and see what fate lay ahead. That alone was the most difficult part. After being someone who for so long waited, he had grown accustomed to taking action. It nearly made him ill.

The physician perked as he heard the sound of his cell being opened. ”Don’t move, slave,” Rudolph commanded. ”Not until I lead you.” Orion had been a headache for the slaver, but things had become much simpler when he had taken to blindfolding the man. More caution was observed, more hesitation in his actions. Orion complied with Rudolph’s orders; he didn’t know what lay outside his confines.

”Move,” Rudolph ordered, having affixed a chain to Orion’s shackles. Orion followed where he was pulled, grunting out intelligible expletives from beneath his cloth covering. ”Yes, slave, you’re gonna help make me a wealthy man.” Petch off. ”I can’t wait to be rid of you, no matter. A thorn in my side.” I said petch off! ”You’ll be someone else’s problem.”

No matter Orion’s defiance, it was a cold truth. Someone was going to offer a stack of coin, and claim him as a prize.

”They should be finishing their afternoon tea soon. Hope you are ready to meet your new master, Mister Michaels.”
User avatar
Orion Michaels
Cut to the punchline
 
Posts: 1215
Words: 1033425
Joined roleplay: August 2nd, 2012, 12:33 pm
Location: Sunberth
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 4
Featured Contributor (1) Mizahar Mentor (1)
Overlored (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

[Auction House] Sold.

Postby Edmund Morealis on September 13th, 2014, 3:35 am

Last time Edmund had been to the Auction House, over a season ago, he had managed to find himself a ridiculously good deal. At the time, being so novice to the purchasing of a slave in private, he had failed to grasp just how good of a deal it was. Since then he had done his prerequisite research, and was astounded in retrospect that Marshal had allowed him to walk away with what was practically a steal.

Perhaps his luck would hold out for a second visit.

Though Edmund somehow doubted that luck would be so kind to him this time, he still found himself filing into the Auction House along with others who were just finishing their afternoon meals. Always the attentive listener, the Caretaker kept his ears open to the conversations around him with varying degrees of interest. The first half of the season had been a flurry of activity, some of it good and much of it bad, and talk abounded throughout the city and plantations fueled only by the atmosphere engendered by the continuation of the turmoil. Each noteworthy event seemed to spawn ten rumors, so being able to sort through what was useful and what was hogwash had become something even more important.

The inside of the the Auction House was just as Edmund had remembered it, only this time with a fair few more people in the seats. Selecting one relatively close to the front, Edmund collected his handkerchief and made his way past those already seated to the open spot, quickly placing himself in its embrace.

Out on the stage, the Auction House's staff appeared busy preparing it for the upcoming auction. Edmund could not be sure, but the place as a whole seemed busier than it should have. It might have been the relaxation of Summer that had waned. The couple dozen people or so around the Morealis continued to chatter, a talent that they seemed to have endless proficiency in, and Edmund settled down to listen to those words that wafted around him like so many breezes. Only there was nothing relaxing about what he heard.

Shortly afterward, Marshal Sitai stepped up onto the stage, smiling his charismatic smile. If he recognized Edmund in particular, he did not show it. Not that Edmund had been expecting him to, not at a time like this. Shifting his seat, the Morealis sat up a little straighter and turned the entirety of his attention to the stage.

There was business to be done.
Edmund is currently suspended. Apologies!

"There is nothing to fear. You can trust me."
User avatar
Edmund Morealis
You can trust me
 
Posts: 90
Words: 113376
Joined roleplay: June 13th, 2014, 9:25 pm
Location: Kenash, Cyphrus
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Journal
Plotnotes

[Auction House] Sold.

Postby Jed Radacke on September 14th, 2014, 2:59 am

Jed's intention was not to purchase anything at the Auction house. He had built himself a fair amount embarrassment from the last time, and first time, he entered the famed establishment. Not only had he over-payed for the measly boy, he had lacked knowledge of how on Earth he was supposed to go about purchasing a slave. Let's just say Jed took a little more effort to avoid the eyes of Marshal Sitai and his snarky tongue. But embarrassment was only so effective on a man like Jed. If anything, his disgrace have him initiative to come back. He had returned so that he may learn. Gods know that he needs to purchase another slave. He had enough of the damn creepers crowding his shop as it was.

But Jed wasn't going to turn a blind eye to the obvious. Matilla was old, having lived far past the years of any Kelvic, she was hardly any use to the Radacke as it was. She could barely make it down the street to buy groceries let alone do any real work. With her inevitable death, he would be lacking a personal slave. Neither Sander or Tim had the skills to take up house-chores, nor did he want them to. They had their own jobs and they needed to stick to them. And so the tall human ducked into the open-air hall. Dynasts and freeborns alike filed into the massive room, clearly taking interest in the products that the day offered. Jed could are less, he just needed to witness today. See what he so blindly missed the last time he sat in that wretched hall.

The bearded man was ready to take his seat in the back of the crowd, out of the way of the bidders. Interestingly enough, a rather groomed mop of brown curls caught his attention as the Morealis took his seat in front of Jed. Jed left his hand on the back of the chair he was about to relax into, wary of approaching his old friend. Although he had just recently gotten in touch with the man, Jed was unsure if their relationship had survived the politically brutal years that it took for the two boys to reach adulthood.

Oh well, couldn't hurt to try.

Jed let his fingers leave the velvet back of the chair he would have taken, deciding to saunter up to Edmund instead. Jed could feel his face lightening, preparing to appear friendly, however genuine the emotion was, it was not a mood that Jed was in the practice of painting across his face.

Jed tone was light, a simply voice used with an old friend, one that Jed was using appropriately. If he remembered correctly, or knew anything about the Morealis, Jed would have known that his utterly casual greeting would not go over all too well with Edmund, a man who took pride in his social manners. Manners that Jed had all but abandoned years ago. But Jed had put his faith in the remnant of a friendship that the men held. Although their families were so different, forcing the boys into separation as they grew older, Jed though their friendship was solid enough.

Despite it all, Jed loved spooking his friend and had little issue with allowing one hand to fall on Edmund's shoulder. A surprising weight for someone who wasn't expecting it. It was a very casual greeting that Jed chose as he proceeded to sit next to his childhood friend. "Ed!" Jed shook the man's shoulder briefly before releasing him, a wide grin set on his face. "You practically fell off the face of Mizahar! Ah, but maybe I have too, with the shop and all. It's been years, man."

To Jed, it didn't matter if Edmund decided to shun him or return the friendliness, in whatever way the Morealis' were customer to doing it ... politely. Jed had never liked the posh aura that Ed had given off, however it was tolerable and gave the Radacke plenty of room to poke fun at his friend. However if Edmund was cold, it simply wouldn't matter. Jed might've embarrassed himself, but he didn't expect a man, who Jed had made no effort to even contact in years, to care about a childish friendship. Either way, Jed took his seat, pulling his right ankle up to his left knee. The Radacke slouched in his chair, far more comfortable than he should have been. Oh well, he could only embarrass himself so much before it stopped mattering.


PC/NPC Talking -- Common -- Thoughts
Jed Radacke
Player
 
Posts: 90
Words: 84223
Joined roleplay: February 19th, 2014, 1:25 am
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

[Auction House] Sold.

Postby Adrienna Lynint on September 14th, 2014, 2:59 pm

Image
Perhaps against the very rules of Kenash itself, Adrienna Lynint had never set foot within the Auction House. She'd never had need to, having been closed in on Lynint grounds with their slaves, having been locked into catching small animals with the slave that would end up one day serving her personally, and having turned her back on the necessity of familiarising herself with a trade that may one day need to be looked into.

It was under the suggestion of a peer that she found herself there now, years after she should have.

Staying strong in the fashion of the season, Adrienna's garb consisted of a navy dress brocaded with deep emerald flowers matched with low-rise boots of leather. It was meant to be an edgy outfit, but she didn't seek to live up to it's vibe. What mattered was that she fit the style of the season, and that people saw her emulating the style. She cared that the dress was lovely, and that the silk of the brocade was soft under her fingers when she felt it.

The one downside to the dress was that it put many of her body modifications on display, and bared the Lynint crocodile on her shoulder to the world. This, of course, was not a downside for her.

The event was... remarkable. She'd rarely encountered as many people here, milling about as they awaited the start of the auction, and for a moment it rendered Adrienna still. Panicked. And then, she swallowed it, closed the discomfort behind the veil of cool interest, and smiled greetings towards familiar faces, of which there were few.

There were not many words to be exchanged, as Adrienna had come alone and now regretted the decision, and she was loathe to be approached for conversation from one of the unfamiliar faces that seemed interested in her companionship. She didn't wish to cause a scene; this was a place of learning for the moment and she wished to do so in peace. Therefore, the next familiar person would find her taking a seat nearby, where she leaned towards them.

Even from afar, Adrienna recognised Edmund, and it had been from afar that she'd seen him for a long time. She did not seek to engage him in conversation but folded her hands on her lap, kept her posture straight, and focused upon dais that the slaves would join potential owners upon. At her back, the marble felt cool. She shivered at the unexpected chill and shifted, just a smidge, as people began to file to their seats.

Against her intentions, she was privy to snippets of the chat between Edmund and his friend. It took a moment of dismay before she found her resolve and forced herself to appear disinterested; they didn't need to see her there, nor know her there.

Gods, she hated how uncomfortable this situation made her.

Soon enough, though, the slaves would be brought out, and she'd be subject to the full experience of an auction. It was actually an exciting prospect, now that she was present.

price4 gm for brocade dress, .6 gm for leather boots

Image
Image
User avatar
Adrienna Lynint
mother of the basilisk.
 
Posts: 138
Words: 65714
Joined roleplay: May 22nd, 2013, 8:15 pm
Location: Kenash.
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes

[Auction House] Sold.

Postby Vice on September 14th, 2014, 3:26 pm

Image

How easily broken were the slaves of the Caged Sun that Glen Radacke required to replace them so readily. It seemed that Micah was close enough to his dear niece, Glen's wife Kiala, that he turned a blind eye to the matter entirely. But, it left Glen with burden of needing to purchase the replacements to the torn, fragmented slaves that at times remained from his sorceress of a wife's machinations. But, it was the lot that Glen Radacke was given, and in truth, he took to it rather well. Wealth, power, the authority to sway an entire house by choosing their slave population, it was a matter that the Radacke took a great deal of pleasure in.

The Radacke found himself enrolled in conversation with a number of young women, smiles and laughter passed around like a chalice in a circle. Momentary pauses and hitches in the conversation allowed the Radacke to assess the inside of the Auction House. Finding that the time drew closer for the Auction to begin, Glen entered and left the women with a smile and more importantly, wanting.

~~


Marshal Sitai had taken pleasure in the knowledge that a marked of Yahal was being sold into slavery. While the Sitai knew not what the mark was capable of, he found that his interest in it was miniscule. What did matter was the novelty, the utility, the quality of the slave. The man that was once Orion Michaels was in good condition, handy, and from what the Sitai auctioneer could tell, there was far, far more to him that met the eye. One could call it inclination, others would see it as Yshul's blessing upon the auctioneer... but Sitai wouldn't have the slave long enough to care. He was the only ware on this particular day, the rest of the slaves he had lined up for auction purchased privately and were being prepared in the annals of the Auction house... in waiting.

"Bring him up,"

And sure enough, when the slaver did, there was a cup of tea in Marshal Sitai's hand.

"Leave. It is time to proceed."

~~


When Marshal Sitai entered the main room of the Auction House, several moments would pass in silence before conversation ensued anew, the prattling on of Dynasts like music to the auctioneer's ears. Some looked worried, perhaps others anxious, but most... most enjoyed the paradise of Kenashian lifestyle with nary a worry in their heart. For the life of a Dynast was not one of strife, but of pleasure and Marshal Sitai's particular business was a hub for social etiquette and exchange.

"Welcome, my friends. Unfortunately, I have but a single slave to sell today! I have been cleaned out of this Auction's collection, but once it is over, please welcome yourself to my office and I can present the slaves that are not yet prepared."

When Orion Michaels at last entered the Auction Hall, he was pushed to his knees and placed directly in front of Marshal Sitai,

"This, my friends, is our ware. In pristine condition, this male is a beautiful example of Syliran craftsmanship. We know very little of his past, but unbroken and capable, this one also presents the mark of the God, Yahal. I will start the bidding at 600 gold mizas."

And with that, red handkerchiefs threw themselves into the air, eager hands and voices calling out bids as Marshal Sitai reveled in it all.
User avatar
Vice
Pick yer' poison~
 
Posts: 405
Words: 318086
Joined roleplay: March 29th, 2014, 2:36 am
Location: DS of Kenash
Race: Staff account
Office
Plotnotes

[Auction House] Sold.

Postby Orion Michaels on October 19th, 2014, 1:08 am

Randolph continued to talk, though Orion payed him no heed. The man was all bluster, and nothing he was saying served any purpose in the greater scheme. He was simply boasting to make himself feel a bigger man, something which Orion knew he was not. A slaver. It was simply the worst. Nothing he uttered was of worth. Instead, while waiting for his judgment, all Orion could do was what he knew best: self-loathing.

He felt so stupid. How could he have allowed himself to be captured? Sure, he was in desperate straits, but the doctor turned cook turned squire turned ..slave... had always prided himself on being able to read people - even if he didn't react the best way in most cases. Instead, he had quite literally stumbled into their camp. Starving, dehydrated, and desperate, he thought they were a camp of hunters - in a way he was right - but instead, they nursed him back just enough to make sure he could survive the long trip to Kenash. What a fool he had been.

"Bring the slave." An unknown man called for Orion to be brought forth. The matter-of-fact way he spoke caused his stomach to turn.

"You heard him. Get up." Randolph gave the blue-eyed man a nudge in the side to get him going.

Orion didn't move.

"You hear me? Get up!" His command was punctuated with a considerably harder jab to his merchandise. Orion winced, but continued his rebellion. Just stare ahead, don't retaliate with violence. Disobedience was the only weapon he could wield now. In a strange city, located who knows where, he was as vulnerable as he had ever been.

"Randolph, did you hear me? Marshal Sitai is calling for him."

Randolph reached over to Orion, grabbed him by the arm, and forcibly dragged him towards the exit and to the stage. The ex-squire offered minimal resistance. "Don't want to get in trouble with an unruly slave, Randolph?" Orion hissed at his captor.

"Shut up. Get out there." With a shove, Orion found himself on the stage, being directed to its center where he would be forced to his knees. The defiant slave was momentarily silenced by the scene before him. Is this some fucking party? Well dressed people, lavish by every definition of the word, sat before the stage, eying a potential new slave like one seeking choice meat at a butcher. It made him furious.

Blue eyes turned momentarily to look at Sitai as he spoke, explaining the value of the item on display. His skills. His mark.

His price.

Orion scoffed loudly. "Six-hundred? You've gotta be petching kidding me? That paltry sum? Better start it off at least an even thousand." He sneered at the Dynasty member. He didn't know anything about Kenash, or who really had the power. All the physician knew was that Marshal, and everyone at this auction, were despicable people, unworthy of anyone's compassion. A mocking tone to his voice, he chirped once more before the inevitable reprisal could silence him?

"Do I hear eleven hundred?"
User avatar
Orion Michaels
Cut to the punchline
 
Posts: 1215
Words: 1033425
Joined roleplay: August 2nd, 2012, 12:33 pm
Location: Sunberth
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 4
Featured Contributor (1) Mizahar Mentor (1)
Overlored (1) 2013 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)


Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests