Solo [The Rattling Chains] The Price of Blood

[Tydus Tempest]

9th of Summer, 514

The Tempest scion arose from the caress of sleep, nightmares of the murder he had committed in the Spring season having mingled with the entrenching haunts of the pod's decimation. Little by little, the latter was fading away, though it plagued him deeply, leaving bitterness set upon the mouth of the eldest remaining, blooded Tempest. It burned into him, turning solitude into torture, turning life into an ever present journey for distraction. And during the walk (for Tydus absolutely refused to ride a horse) to the Rattling Chains, he was given time to think, though an eye remained upon his surroundings. The Sea of Grass was a danger... one could easily be consumed.

Thoughts raced through his brain regarding the ever-shifting state of his existence, the mottled alcohol steeping into him from the night before present and burning within him, but he saw it as little more than a reason to continue forward, instead. Distraction was the only reprieve from despair, and Tydus sought it in whichever way he could obtain it. Syna paved her way through the sky as the journey progressed, Tydus taking to running in certain spots when he discovered an open expanse and animals residing within. Tydus knew not how to survive in the wilderness, but such a short distance, a mere bells walking, was secured by Riverfall, for the road Tydus walked, while non-existence, showed signs of being tread.

The grass was sparse and matted to the floor, showing a trail that over time, grew into itself, permanently securing itself to the floor. The Tempest noticed this and wondered to himself just how steady the supply of slaves was that went into Riverfall. Hooves and footsteps alike marked the road, and other, hideously marred and unidentifiable tracks that the Tempest observed but had no capacity to lead into and learn from.

The Tempest decided to sprint when he saw the Rattling Chains' entrance, a single, grotesquely decorated tree marking as its signpost. The place looked almost like a mine, a single trail remaining from the various that Tydus could and could not see, the surface dilapidated due to the stretch of time, but Tydus had no complaint.

This sort of place was not meant to be pleasant.

Tydus was, by his own journey, led into the mouth of what looked to be an extremely old, abandoned mine. But, this was not what he had been told about the place. He had obviously made it to the wrong entrance, and after several chimes of fumbling about, the Tempest finally encountered the face of the camp. Several mercenaries looked upon the Tempest with a fixed glare, but before they could speak, the Tempest did,

"I'm here to buy a slave, lads. Was told that a certain Meddin Flint would take my business? Or Decath Rhodes? Caelum, the proprietor of the Alements, told me to arrive on his behalf."

The Tempest took care to carefully assess the reactions of each of the mercenaries in turn, djed beginning to well within his throat if the need arose to employ Hypnotism.

Tydus was not in a place where he could afford to make a mistake.


Fratava | Hypnotic Fratava | Common | Hypnotic Common | Vani

[Tydus Tempest]

Expressions immediately shifted upon both the mention of a purchase and the name 'Caelum' brought in tow. Tydus cast his gaze upon each of the men in tow, each one with the hard, dead eyes of a man awash with greed. Mercenaries hired to live in a place of disgust, hoping to someday transcend the limitations of their expenses and retire to a life of luxury. Tydus harboured the same desire, but was not subject to live in a hole for the days in waiting for the that he aspired to live for.

Luxury was a desire Tydus was conditioned to understand. A Hypnotist that learned at the hands of a merchant. That's what Tydus was. Before being a Svefra. Before being a sailor beyond that. He was a Hypnotist. He felt the twang and pull of conversation, tugged upon the avenues that could benefit him and did his utmost to evolve them. A foothold in the mind. A want. A desire. A twitch. Facial expressions. All of these were avenues to be explored. The last two physical manifestations, involuntary reactions to words. And Tydus had spent time to distinguish them.

Unable to discern the interior workings of the mind, he used his eyes to see what needed to be shown. His ears to listen to what needed to be heard. His heart to decide what strings to pull upon and bend to his desires. It was a matter of manipulation, but among the three strings, the mercenaries that were tied to the Rattling Chains, he saw nothing that required true, willful consolidation in the form of conditioning.

He saw a means to an end, but as each of the mercenaries looked to one another, they decided to allow the Tempest entry unhampered, returning to their duties just as another figure appeared from the interior of the slaver's den. A rather amicable-looking sort, though in his gaze Tydus saw intellect.

It was similar, eerily to the gaze that was shot to him by the Magic Man years before. Shrewd, calculating, present, yet... blank. The man extended a hand to Tydus Tempest, a smile visible upon his lips as he introduced himself,

"Flint. Meddin Flint. I overheard that you are interested in buying a slave? Come with me, I'll get you sorted out. And... you mentioned a name?"

Was there a hint of overt curiosity?

What kind of man is Caelum that his name reverberates through this place so powerfully? Granted, echoes run strong... but one's voice in this sort of place reeks of shrewd, practiced steps of power. Is Caelum a Hypnotist, too? Am I just following in the path he had already set in place?

If he was, the Tempest couldn't know. But, he would do the job that he had promised. The Svefra was guided through the annals of the slaver's den, voices pushing their way out of the tunnel as Meddin Flint held a torch in front of him. The pathway was lit, though only just, and Tydus decided to pass the time and set his reaches, if possible.

"The boss, friend, wants a particular sort of slave. Caelum's askin' for a female slave, young, sickly if possible. Likes tah treat 'em up 'imself. Strange request, but Caelum's a strange one, in't he? He trusts me judgement, so just bring me up to teh likely ones, if ye could."

The Tempest layered djed into his words, pulling from the tapestry of the soul as his throat layered with it. Djed was imparted into his words, particular points of interest and necessity, cast forth by word, but particularly reinforced by his tone. It was the measured friendliness of his words that cast forth and wedged into Meddin's thoughts. The thoughts coalesced and imparted into a suggestion.

Tydus began to understand the new capacity that he was given to in Hypnotism, but he cautioned himself from using it too soon. To impart upon a more sharply intelligent man a thought of greater permanence than that of a fleeting suggestion was unwise.

Work your way into it, Tydus... Start slow.

Rather, he began with that. His immediate instinct to go with a suggestion inflected with emotional response cast upon the tone of the conversation. From therein, it would be nurturing the initial spark of trust in order to cultivate the kindling flames of a new relationship borne from Hypnotism.

Caelum trusts him? A sharp mind is wise to follow that practice.

Tydus could tell the foothold he had in the man by his relaxed posture as he nodded, casting his gaze towards the Tempest as he responded,

"That's fine. We'll begin with the older arrivals, then. Some of them break under Haev Provedan's... care. Perhaps Caelum's looking for a project to work on."

Eyes narrowed a moment later with suspicion, not of the Healer, but of the Svefra. But Tydus reveled in the attention. It was more pertinent to form a relationship of any kind, to cultivate an opinion, be it of fear, of their intent to manipulate him or a friendly banter. It was being forgotten that worried Tydus.

He would strive to be remembered first. Then he would strive to become respected.

Fratava | Hypnotic Fratava | Common | Hypnotic Common | Vani

[Tydus Tempest]

The manipulation was not to pass. Tydus had every intention of inspecting the slaves to find out which caught his eye. To choose from the sicklier stock was a shrewd maneuver, for it narrowed the selection to the choice stock that was the least desirable to most. A project was not what most people looked to in a slave, one could assume.

They desired an assistant, or a worker, a tool to be worked and trained to specific or broad tasks. Slavery was an issue to be debated about heavily, whether subjugation of the human spirit (or otherwise) was truly fair. But Tydus could not say that he felt anything amiss in the practice. Some were not meant for the life of freedom, and others needed living property that could think and act to their whims.

It was a reality that was unavoidable in the climate of this forsaken world where the Gods played with sentient life. Sentient life was more than bound to subjugate among itself. It was only natural to do so. The Tempest paused in thought for a moment as Meddin cast his thought aloud. But of course. Caelum was most definitely the type to acquire projects and give them purpose. It was what he had done with Tydus himself, but he was not about to find himself in that train of thought.

The Tempest scion nodded at Flint before he contributed his own opinion. Words laden with djed, the Hypnotic influence concaved into the sphere of his tone. The Hypnotist's aura was capable of stretching farther than the paltry length that separated him and Flint. It was capable of stretching even to other people at the same time. Tydus felt his ability expanding, increasing, and with it, his limits. The Tempest scion wished to further explore these boundaries, and sought to unleash them upon Meddin in order to acquire what he desired.

"Perhaps so. A project sounds about right. He's the type to stir resources like 'at. Wealthy fellows like 'im are bound to do as they please."

In the words were further influences upon the Meddin's thoughts. The man seemed to resist the first intent, and thought suspicion was met with pride, Tydus did require that he leave a more lasting impression. Tydus inflected his voice to convey a rather jealous tone, harsh and biting, rather reprimanding in nature. Within the tone, he concealed his influence, a short laugh at the end, rather bitter in nature meant to convey his suggestion. Fear trickled into the influence of his second sentence, Tydus intent on having Meddin Flint fear the Ethaefal. Though in the third, he sought to make himself more approachable. Trust.

Tydus tended to find it easier when others did not fear him, but trusted him. If they found him to be charming rather than intimidating, it was a throw in the right direction.

I'm not used to using Hypnotism on men... This should pave the direction, though... I don't care if he likes me personally. His opinions are his. People like this shouldn't let personal pride get in the way of a business relationship.

The die was cast and Meddin Flint barked out a laugh in response to Tydus' words,

"You scared of him too, eh? He's a strange one. Trustworthy, yet... that kind of money... it speaks volumes about his breadth of power. I wonder about him sometimes...

Don't go tellin' on me, you hear? I'll cut out yer throat if you spew, pretty boy."

A knife was pointed at Tydus' face without him realizing that Meddin had drawn the blade. He simply nodded, quite unsure of how to reply for a moment.

"No... no, I won't, boss. I swear on me ship. Yeh can trust me."

The older man nodded, stowing his knife in its sheathe before leading Tydus into a nearby room. Four ladies, each one rather pale, with gaunt features and dead eyes staring at Tydus. Obviously, Meddin wasn't kidding when he meant older arrivals. Three of the women looked as if they'd been locked in a prison cell for seasons on end. But one.

One woman seemed to have a spark of life in her. If only just. Eyes with heavy bags seemed to not stare directly at the Tempest, instead cast lower towards the floor. All four slaves were clad with ill-fitting, over-sized shirts. Perhaps meant to be a substitute for shorts as well, these garments did very little to cover the hips of their wearers. Obviously, undergarments were provided, but only just. It was a disgraceful way to treat such lovely women.

That's the one.

But Meddin Flint was not meant to know this.

"Oi, lass on the left. Take a step-"

"Cut the shit. I saw you staring at the one on the right. How much are you going to offer, boy? I've got other shit to do.."

Damn it.

Fratava | Hypnotic Fratava | Common | Hypnotic Common | Vani

[Tydus Tempest]

The Tempest scion had reached the heart of his purpose in the Rattling Chains. The buying of the slave was, on the surface, the most important thing. But, what he had done to get there was greater still. Meddin Flint seemed at the crossroads of like and dislike. Tydus had made mistakes. Meddin Flint was obviously a man of skill. It frightened the Tempest a bit to know that this man was not the boss. That he was not the main threat to take into account in the Rattling Chains.

Haev Provedan... isn't that man the head? I've heard the name. But I don't know the face that goes with it. But already I can tell...

Haev Provedan was not someone Tydus could meet just yet. He wasn't ready to fill that order. Had Caelum met this man? The Tempest had the thought that pushed him to the depths of his resolve, curious, wondering... Humility was not something the Tempest laid claim to, but in this moment, he was terrified into it. He was dealing in things he did not quite understand. Powers that were quite possibly very, very far above him. He trembled with apprehension, yet he felt an excitement in it that he could not quite place.

It reminded him most of when he had faced the old man in the Rat Hole. The reverie he had taken in risking his life. The joy he had drawn from pushing himself to the extent. The excitement. The satisfaction of a victory that he had taken almost by chance. The Tempest scion seemed to enjoy gambling with his life, but in this scenario... Hypnotism made chance into a measured probability of success. He did not know the measurements in terms of numbers, but he pushed forward nevertheless.

There is no return without a risk. There is no investment that cannot crumble. Numbers, gambling bouts, word games and power struggles... all of these require a distinct risk. Numbers risk miscalculation. Gambling risks money. Word games risk reputation. Power struggles risk being consumed...

But each one of these bring to the table a return far beyond the risk if success is found. To endeavor in the uncertain is how to advance.

And Tydus plunged forward to finish this investment. The Tempest scion knew not about the game of numbers. He had gambled before, but was inexperienced in the craft. It was in the last two that he had his experience. Word games were an art that he flourished in. Social interaction was the tapestry upon which Tydus painted his influence. Power struggles, in his experience, were merely an expansion of what he already knew. Violence was not the Tempest's strength, but Hypnotism allowed him the chance to shape the thoughts of others, implant his own and in it, allow his will to transform that of another person's.

It was the pinnacle of conversation. But this time, Tydus had met his match. He needed to pass this negotiation so that Meddin was satisfied with the purchase. But, he could not know that Tydus meant to appease him. This meant that he needed to haggle.

"390.

"Higher, boy. She's worth more than that. Look at her. She's worth at least 500."

"That's just not true, Mr. Flint.

The Tempest motioned to the baggy nature of her eyes. To the trembling of her arms and body. Shivers wracked her form. She was cold. She was weak.

"Yeh haven't been takin' care of her. It's probably,"

The Tempest scion welled djed in his words. He knew that he had not cast more than two spells. He welled with the desire to cast. The need to further his influence was present. There was nothing but this moment. This cast would decide the outcome of the encounter. As Tydus spoke, he wove suggestion into his verse, but he felt it rise further. Djed steeped into his throat, weaving, intensifying. A single thought welled in his own mind, a singular ambition, a singular drive that he cast about.

"Why she hasn't been purchased yet. I'll pay 420."

He's a sharp kid. It's a good idea to make use of him.

Tydus surged with an immediate bout of fatigue, his eyes fluttering closed for a single moment as he cast a piercing thought for the first time. Meddin Flint would, fortunately, be too distracted by the thought to notice Tydus' sudden bout with tiredness, but he shook his head. Try as he might, he could not shake the thought off, and so, he relented,

"I'll settle for 450, kid. That's my final offer."

The tone was back. It was rather flighty, hearty. Tydus could almost hear an amused laugh in it. Meddin Flint had taken to Tydus' Hypnotism, though the Tempest had to work for it. His investment had come to flourish as he noted the tone, and he reveled in it. Tydus did his utmost to dim the excitement in his tone as he extended his hand,

"Mr. Flint. You have yourself a deal."

Hands connected, and the slave was sold.

But Tydus Tempest wasn't finished yet. Unwilling to use magic and expose himself to risk, this endeavor, his last in this place in this day, was left entirely to his wit.

Fratava | Hypnotic Fratava | Common | Hypnotic Common | Vani

[Tydus Tempest]

Tydus needed transport. Weary and with a second person in tow, the Tempest scion required a means back to the city of Riverfall. It was a pain to realize, but Tydus was rather defenseless when tired. Most situations called for him avoiding conflict, stirring the pot towards a more peaceful situation. Manipulation, re-direction. Social interaction in the positive light. Tydus ensured that he kept to non-violence, though he was by no means non-confrontational.

The Tempest scion grinned at Meddin Flint as the deal was cast. And when hands parted, he immediately moved towards the slave he had purchased. She was shapely, attractive if given the chance to be. This much Tydus could see beneath the surface of sleeplessness and a broken heart. Her face was sunken and dark with bags, her hair tussled and messy from a lack of maintenance. Her oversized shirt was torn at the breast and at the hem. A hint of possible sexual abuse at the hands of her masters.

The Svefra stretched a hand forward in an attempt to touch the woman's cheek. Her nostrils flared, her eyes widened with what looked like fear, but she did not shy away. She did not do anything at all. Tydus marked this as strange. Trauma, perhaps? Shock? He didn't know and decided it was best to leave it to Caelum.

"I'm gonna take yeh home, lass. The boss'll be happy to see yeh. So, let's go. But first.

Tydus turned away from the slave, not quite willing to delve deeper until he knew that their journey back was secured. When he turned, he addressed Meddin Flint with a smile,

"I didn' bring me money with me. I was gonna send it forward, but I have a better idea. How about, Flint, if we go back to Riverfall together? I'll give yeh yer 450 to take back to yer boss, then another 50 off the top so that you and your buddies can buy drinks on me for the next cycle or two. Sounds good?"

Flint had parted his lips in protest, it seemed; but at the mention of fifty additional gold rimmed mizas, he fell silent.

"That's... perfect. Let's get going, then. I'll give you a chime with the slave while I get set up."

Perfect.

The Tempest turned back to the slave for a moment, studying her with a curious glance before he began to question her,

"Do yeh have a name?"

"Not anymore..."

A sign of brokenness. Being deprived of a name was the tell of being deprived of one's humanity. She'd been a slave for a long time.

"Well, yeh have a name again. Would you tell me it?"

"I don't... remember."

Pursed lips marked the Tempest's features as he stepped forward. A hand traversed the woman's cheek, a momentary flicker of pity present upon Tydus' lips until he began,

"Well, that's fine. Caelum should give yeh a name. But, I'll call you Shoal for now. It means a strip of land that's in teh water. A bank of sand raised off shore."

Tydus always enjoyed a small party on a shoal. Off of the shores of lands, but close enough to enjoy the city view without having to actually go into it. Tydus tended to dislike cities. Riverfall was irritating. Its culture unknown, its people too consumed by their existences quashed of true diversion in the midst of a life ruined in the midst of work for the sake of it.

Civilization disgusted him for that reason.

"It's time to go, boy," Meddin Flint called out to him.

Tydus motioned for the slave to follow him, and when they exited with Meddin Flint, there were two mercenaries, Flint himself, and two horses waiting for him.

"Get on the horse."

Fuck.

At the very least, his goal was accomplished. Now, it was just to get back to the city.

Fratava | Hypnotic Fratava | Common | Hypnotic Common | Vani

[Redd]

Tydus Tempest

Knowledge :

Skills

Skill	XP
Observation	+5XP
Running	+1XP
Endurance	+2XP
Hypnotism	+3XP
Persuasion	+3XP
Tactics	+2XP
Negotiation	+1XP

Lores
➢ The pod’s decimation, a haunting memory
➢ Rattling Chains: Looks like an abandoned mine
➢ Mercenaries: Awash with greed
➢ Hypnotism: A manipulation of the senses
➢ Caelum: What kind of man is he?
➢ Hypnotism: Reinforced by tone
➢ Hypnotism: Start Slow
➢ Slaves: A heavily debated topic
➢ Hypnotism: Able to effect more than one mind
➢ Business: Not a place for pride
➢ Slaves: Poorly dressed
➢ Meddin Flint: A man of skills
➢ Tactics: Not meant to know
➢ Humility: A terrifying lesson
➢ Hypnotism: Piercing thoughts
➢ I enjoy gambling with my life
➢ No risk, no return
➢ Hypnotism: Causes fatigue
➢ Negotiation: You have yourself a deal
➢ Shaol: Suffered possible sexual abuse from her masters
➢ Shoal: Been a slave for a long time
➢ Riverfall: A culture unknown
➢ Get on the horse

Micellaneous :

Injuries
➢ List Gained Injuries
Loot/Expenses
➢ List Expenses

____________________________________________

Notes

➢ I really enjoyed this thread, especially the part where he realizes that he enjoys gambling with his life. A conclusion, that I'm sure not many people realize.

➢ If there is any problems with this grade, or you feel that I have left something out, then please don't hesitate to contact me!

____________________________________________

If you feel that I have left out something or made an error of some kind, please do not hesitate to contact me. If you have any questions or comments, again feel free to contact me. I don't bite, I swear. Also, remember to either delete your grade request or edit it as 'graded'.