Closed For Sale

[Amelia]

6th of Fall, 515AV

It came to Nomi as no real surprise that she had once again found herself at the Flaxen District. She had spent less than two seasons as Thomat Vure's slave, and though he had treated her as kindly as she could expect, it had soon become quite evident that she was not capable of satisfying his needs.

Or rather, the needs of his trade and those of his other slave. Rosemary had been like a second mother to Thomat, and one of the largest driving forces behind his petty clothes-selling business. But what she had in sewing skill and passion for fashion design, she lacked in patience. Nomi was a slow learner, and whatever lesson Rosemary had given her one day would almost completely slip her mind twenty-four bells later. This infuriated the older slave to no end, as her lessons had subsequently taken far more time than Thomat had initially expected. In all fairness, he had tried his best. He had worked longer hours himself in order to allow Rosemary to spend more time teaching Nomi, but it was still no good. Her sewing was slow, messy, and nowhere near strong enough to make a sustainable blanket, let alone create something as complicated as a dress or a skirt.

Rosemary had subsequently become even more insufferable, and Nomi found herself completely miserable. Both she and the other slave had wondered why Thomat had purchased Nomi - a woman with no skills related to his trade. It seemed like the greatest mistake a businessman could make, after all. But the young male had merely shrugged, said something indeterminable, and chewed his bottom lip; a gross habit that resulted in his mouth always looking sore and red.

So, here she was. Yet again standing amongst the other sorrowful slaves waiting to find a new owner. There were shackles on her ankles, wrists and around her neck: a tad too extreme in Nomi's opinion, but who was she to comment? The shackles on her ankles were connected to a thin chain that linked her to the slaves on her left and right. A young man, barely out of childhood, stood at the former, with a bird-like woman to the latter. The Tiger glanced to both in turn, but they stared blankly ahead. They were clearly veterans of this trade, too.

A thin crowd of potential owners sifted along the row of slaves. Several paused in front of the young man, but nobody seemed to pay much attention to Nomi or her fellow female companion. Eventually, this earned the attention from the dreaded Card Hadra, who started to bustle his way towards the two women.

Nomi groaned as the male made his way over. He was a short man who acted as if he were over seven feet tall, full of arrogance and pride. When he stood toe-to-toe to Nomi, he barely reached level with her chin. "Come on, ladies!" He declared, reaching a hand up to run his fingers through Nomi's raven locks, "look alive, look alive!" His tone was pleasant, but it merely irked the Kelvic further. She was not posing for a portrait, or preparing to meet some high-ranking member of society. It was hard to muster enthusiasm when you were being critiqued and your worth was being weighed up.

After fussing about with her hair some more, Card clapped his hands together to catch the attention of the meandering crowd. "Ladies and gentleman, I would like to take this moment to draw your attention to this fine specimen--" he gestured to Nomi briefly, who slid her bright eyes across the faces of the men and women standing before her, "what you see here is a rare white tiger Kelvic! Fantastic hunter with a strong build, as you can imagine. And - err, not bad on the eyes in this form either!" The short man gave a short, explosive laugh and slapped his hand against Nomi's rump, almost knocking her sideways and creating a domino effect of falling slaves. "If you're interested, do come and speak to me for more details."

❈❈❈

[Clyde Sullins]

6 Fall 515

Clyde hadn't been in Nyka long, not even a full season since he'd arrived, but already he was beginning to get a bit bored. With its restraints on magic, and the monks ways of doing things, Nyka wasn't the easiest place for a person such as Clyde to get along. The rules on food alone were troublesome. Clyde liked to eat, and so food was important to him if nothing else as a means of replacing the energy spent in magic.

In Ravok Clyde was a member of the Ebonstryfe, so he could do more or less as he pleased. So long as he didn't damage anything, he could use magic to his hearts content, even right in front of people. In Sahova magic was life, it was purpose. It was practiced and studied non-stop. Of course, it was also an island of undead, and so like Nyka food was a problem.

Of late Clyde had been considering going hunting, but he'd been far to busy to do so himself. But the thought of added food still rung in his mind. Even if he didn't stay in Nyka long, food was always a concern where he ended up going. He planned to head to Zeltiva soon, and though food wasn't as enforced there as in Nyka, it was still rationed. Unlike Syliras there weren't wide open expanses of farmland, and so in order to feed everyone food either had to be taken from the sea or imported for the most part.

Since it seemed Clyde never had time to hunt himself, the idea of hiring someone to hunt for him came up. Since Nyka had a slave market, just as Ravok did, the idea of hiring a slave to hunt for him seemed the most straightforward of things.

And so Clyde found himself looking about the slave market in Nyka on that fall day, or as the locals called it the Flaxen District.

With the intent of purchasing a slave in mind, Clyde was looking his best. A very simple tactic, yet one oft overlooked in negotiations, was to appear to deal from a position of strength and power. Appearing to be dressed richly, as a moneyed person, one who could afford a dozen slaves and had no particular need of any particular one, was a simple enough means of positioning oneself in their foes mind. His foe, in this case, being the slave owner or whomever was making the deals. While no blows were exchanged, no wounds recieved, Clyde knew negotiating a purchase was just a much a battle as fighting a horde of yukmen.

Except instead of the red coming from torn skin and wounds recieved, it was found in his ledger. Just like with combat, one wanted to reduce the red to a minimum.

Instead of wearing his more common clothes, Clyde wore velvet, a set of dark velvet articles of clothing he'd bought in Ravok awhile back. Dark velvet shirt and pants with a purple velvet vest, or sleeveless doublet as some might call it, over the shirt. Over that was a set of fine silk robes, open at the chest to show the cloth beneath.

Most striking though was likely the staff in his hand. It was a five foot long length of wood, clearly crafted with care and skill. But its oddest quality, visibly at least, was that the wood was blue, having been cut from a branch of Vian Wood. Of course, it being a work of Magecrafting there was far more to it than that, but nothing that was physically visible.

As Clyde walked about, or perhaps some might say strutted with confidence, he heard a man hawking his wares, and decided to investigate.

According to the one selling the slaves, he was currently hawking a kelvic. A white tiger kelvic. Clyde's eyes crinkled a bit at the word rare though, as it was the second one he'd met, though that had been years ago.

Though he did mention her being a hunter, which had been what he'd come for. Perhaps she could be of use...

As Clyde began to talk to the man, he began to use his second negotiation tactic, picking apart the thing to be bought and pointing out all of its flaws in both the item and the hawkers statements. Just as the man tried to up sell the girl, Clyde would attempt to down sell her.

“Rare? No offense, but that's the second white tiger kelvic I've met. I wouldn't call it that rare. Plus you say she's got a strong build, but look at her! She looks half starved! How often do you feed her, once a week? That wont do, it'll take me a season just to get her filled out.”

Clyde paused for a moment here, letting the man take in his words, before continuing on before he had a chance to respond. At least, not just yet.

“Now, you say she's a tiger kelvic, but where is the proof? Seeing is believing. If I'm to purchase her, I'll need to see her shift. Plus, you say she's a skilled hunter, but what proof of that do you have? Am I supposed to just take your word? How much are you wanting for her, the half starved thing?”

Done for the moment, Clyde gave the man a chance to respond. If Clyde had any fear of the kelvic shifting, he didn't show it. Which, likely, he didn't. He was a mage, and a powerful one at that. He'd taken on far worse things than a tiger, and had little to fear of it deciding to attack him.

Though he'd yet to decide anything. He knew kelvic's tended to vary widely. Some knew numbers and reading, others knew little more than their wild animal counterparts would. It was hard to say if this one would be as dull as a board of wood, or if she'd have any fire to her.

Clyde preferred his slaves with a bit of fire. Not disobedient per say, but independent, and with that flare of vigor and resolve.

[Amelia]

The fact that a heavy crowd did not immediately gather around Nomi was clearly a source of much grievance for the slave master. After briefly massaging the gap between his eyebrows with a forefinger and thumb, Card started to holler out Nomi's personals once again, now with even more thinly concealed desperation than before.

The Kelvic tuned out his voice, instead closing her eyes and allowing the noises around to wash over her. She wondered who her new master might be, or indeed if one would be found anytime soon. There were some slaves, those who ended up staying in the Flaxen District for longer than most, who claimed that having no official master was far superior to having one. If a slave remained under the duty of Card, they would be washed frequently and given new clothes whenever their original attire wore thin. It was far from a perfect or joyous life; you were still a slave, after all. But with having no official master came the knowledge and comfort of a daily routine. For some, particularly those most damaged individuals, this strange limbo was the best life would bring.

But for Nomi, this was not the case. She might be a slave, but she still had pride -- possibly even more than most of her peers. She wanted to find a new master, even if it was just to avoid being yet another pitiful, ownerless face in the long row of slaves. But she knew better than to start imagining what her new master might be like. Reality had the habit of disappointing, after all.

Suddenly, her eyes flung open. An unfamiliar male voice had broken through to reach her attention, and Nomi rewarded this newcomer with an even, unblinking stare. He was tall, gangly even, and had a mop of dark hair atop of his head. Like herself, Nomi presumed this gentleman was not a Nyka native, but it was not his physical characteristics that truly caught her attention. It was the peculiar blue cane he walked with. Perhaps he walked with a limp, or had a deformed leg? A crippled master was preferable; they couldn't chase their slaves, at least. But something nagged at Nomi's gut. This male did not seem incapable or damaged, but instead healthy. And that cane was far too... elaborate to be a simple walking stick.

A curious individual indeed.

She looked to Card. The slave master seemed irritated by the newcomer's presence, despite his desperate attempts to attract some such individual beforehand. With a casual flick of his hand towards Nomi, the short man declared: "My friend, forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but I presume you lack the... ahh--" With his left hand, Card rolled the air before him between his thumb and fingers. The gesture was sometimes used to denote money, but in this instead it betrayed the slave master's lack of a suitable word or phrase, "-- speciality of myself. Yes, this poor girl is not as full as she could be, but consider this a strength! Look at this specimen!" He flung a hand out to a gaunt-looking woman some three or four slaves down from Nomi, "fed the same, cared for to the same extent as this girl here, and yet twice as healthy looking." Again his attention rounded onto Nomi, and Card yanked her forward, tugging the entire line of slaves a step or two towards him. "It won't take much at all for this girl to reach her peak, I assure you. You have my word. A hot meal, a good rest and perhaps some physical affection, ey?" He jutted out an elbow to Clyde and his eyebrows shot up to meet his hairline in a conspiratory manner.

The issue of shifting was an entirely different matter. Card wrinkled his nose momentarily, considering how best to pursue this subject. After briefly scanning the man before him - and deciding that he truly was a potential customer, the slave master gave a curt nod. "My friend, you are correct. Allow me."

With that, he bought fourth no less than four accomplices, all men. Three were armed with whips, and a fourth - the biggest and ugliest looking of them all - carried a spear. "Just a precaution, of course." Card muttered quietly to Clyde, though the deep furrowing of his brows betrayed the cocky little man's anxiety. He approached Nomi and gave the woman a severe look. "You try anything, girlie, and I'll be wearing your fur as a coat next season." He breathed into her ear, causing Nomi to half-gag from the stench of his breath. The shackles on her neck, wrists and ankles were all released and landed on the cobbles with a satisfying clunk.

"Well, my girl, show 'im what you've got!" Card called out, his voice now once again chirpy with pomp and arrogance. But his expression showed no such joy. Instead, his eyes flickered anxiously between Nomi and the four men that now flanked her, poised ready to strike at the tiger that would soon stand in her place.

Nomi took her time. She stretched out her arms and neck, flexed her bare feet in a circular motion. But her eyes barely left the face of the stranger standing before her. She sought out any hint of an expression that might betray his thoughts. Slowly, she began to undress, her fingers toying at the buttons of her dress with the expertise of a woman who was more than apt at taking off clothes. There was no shame or humiliation in her demeanour as Nomi revealed the porcelain-like white skin that was previously concealed by her red dress. If anything, there was a silent challenge in how she watched the man who might soon become her new master: her gaze invited... something. Naked, she briefly ran her hands down the length of her body, sliding down over her breasts and around the slight curve of her hips in a way that indicated she enjoyed this strange game and the audience around her.

She was not naked for long. Soon Nomi was swathed in white lights that danced and flickered over her. They engulfed the standing woman before disappearing to reveal a heavy-set, powerful-looking white tiger. The single shared characteristic were the icy eyes that still stared at Clyde with unwavering challenge and curiosity.

❈❈❈

[Clyde Sullins]

As Clyde further invested in dealing with the people before him, the slave dealer and the slave, Clyde began to use a bit of his magic. Namely Auristics, which was for obvious reasons useful in this situation.

Willing his djed to rise, he focused his power through Cha, and willed his aura to extend, to latch on, for a filament of djed to stretch out from his aura, latch onto the others aura, and send back a view of the others djed.

In his mind Clyde pictured a flame burning in utter darkness, shining brightly without casting light. Then in his mind he pictured to other flames a bit of a ways away in the darkness, shining like his without casting light. Isolated. He imagined his own flame shining brightly, pressing its light directly against the other flames. Though no light showed up in the intervening space, as it fell across the other two flames their brightness intensified, bathed in the bright silvery force of his own flame.

As he latched onto the slave peddler, Clyde sensed the outer layer of his aura, it flaring into visibility in his mage sight. It was a cold greyish color, mixed in with some brown. The other aura, that of the kelvic, was white, salted with streamers of black and grey.

Clyde took a few moments to acquaint himself with the auras, to get their touch and feel so that should he see them again he would know them.

Auras, he'd come to understand, were unique. Each one was different, and after one knew what to look for it was easy to recognize familiar ones. Clyde knew quite a number of auras on sight now, something only possible with his great skill in the magic.

Cha sat in his hand, her length of wood comfortable in his hand as always. Most might assume she was a tool, perhaps for walking for an infirm man. Those might unduly underestimate Clyde, something he had no issue with. Others might think it a weapon, perhaps even one of a pacifist who didn't want to kill with his blows, akin to a quarterstaff but thicker and less refined. And if Clyde so choose he could use Cha as such, and had smacked various people and things about with her.

Those with the ability to see powerful magics though, other aurists or those with various unique skills that let one see such things, would see it was much more. It was a part of him, a potent creation of Magecrafting. It was a Magic Staff.

But then, such things were known to few, and certainly not known by many non-mages. And Nyka wasn't known for its mages. Perhaps some of the monks, particularly those working at the Wizards Thumb, but few others.

“Oh, I have more than what it takes to understand such things. You wound me, by claiming I am lacking sir. How rude!”

From his tone he sounded somewhat serious, as if he'd been offended by the mans slander, but he quickly passed on from the topic and onto other things, not dwelling on the thing said.

“I would not, however, say that just because she's managed to scrounge up a few more scraps than others, and so has more meat on her bones than these other... Scarecrows... That such makes her any finer or better quality-ed. I do think you exaggerate sir.”

Clyde ignored the mans eyebrow motion, looking into the slaves eyes as he made it. Though he did see it. Though he was only piercing the edge of the two's aura's, he could see their physical sight quite easily. In fact, he could see it in ways mundane sight did not allow. In his mage vision, though limited to the subjects auras he was experiencing, he could see them utterly. He could see their front, sides, top, bottom, he could see them from every direction as if he looked at all sides at once, and yet as one. A cohesive vision of sight in total.

From his reaction it was clear the man did not find the idea of letting the kelvic shift as a good one, nor one he liked. However he in the end relented, after doing what he felt made him safe from such. Clyde had no fear of the kelvic, but the irony that the man felt it needed to bring forth various armed men to keep her in check, and that he was in turn saying she was a slave fit to be taken and used right then... The contradiction in it almost made Clyde smile, though he did not let it show on his merchant face.

If he didn't think it would hurt his position of lowering the slaves value for purchase, he'd admit right then that he could handle anything she might do and more. But he kept it to himself for now. Though he'd likely enlighten the slave if he acquired her.

“A precaution... Right... But a costly one. If she can't be trusted to shift without armed men present, I believe such will negatively affect her final price. I won't pay full price for something that isn't tame.”

As the girl danced about in her own way, showing off with her new release from restraint, Clyde met her eyes. He didn't bother looking her over or getting an eyeful. Technically he could still see her in her totality with his aura sight, but that was only none to him. Anyone else looking, including the slave, would only see him staring her in the eyes, matching her gaze.

He was not put off by her showmanship, finding it a bit amusing. He however kept that amusement from showing, keeping his face instead set and serious. Smiling wasn't conductive to deal making, not in that instance.

Like the other kelvics he'd seen, their was no shame, no timidness. Being clothed or unclothed did not matter to them, it was a foreign thing. Animals did not wear clothes.

Clyde met her challenging gaze with one of his own in return.

Just as the girl was about to shift, Clyde performed a small spell of Reimancy. Anyone else looking would likely have their focus on the naked girl before him, the one about to shift into a beast. With that in mind, Clyde knew this would likely be seen by no one but the kelvic in question.

Acting and releasing in one smooth motion, Clyde built up a tiny spell within Cha, a spurt of flame, a belch of fire, res quickly formed and transmuted then released out of the head of Cha.

For anyone looking directly, likely only the kelvic, the head of the blue staff would seem to suddenly sneeze forth a small spurt of flame. If Clyde held his palm out flat, the spurt of flame would likely be similar in size and length to it. It was short lived, the fire flashing out and then gone. Even if someone saw the flame in their peripheral vision it'd likely be gone once they looked.

The point though had been meant for the slave. He did it just as she shifted, just before, so she wouldn't have time to react till after. Once she did she'd be in the form of a tiger, as she shifted in the kelvic fashion.

Clyde never shifted his gaze, not while he did his magic, nor while the tiger shifted. His eyes seemed to shift with the light swirling, meeting the tigers eyes as it settled into its new shape. In her new shape, Clyde silently tasted at the aura, feeling for it. Though it was different in some ways, her physical shape and output different, there was a sameness about it. A HER-ness that told it was still the same thing standing before him. Apparently, Clyde now knew, the uniqueness held through a kelvic change, and though the shape was different was still clearly the aura of the same one, to one such as Clyde who could see such things. The HER-ness was subtle, not something easily seen as common across the forms, but there all the same.

“Yes, well that proves she is a kelvic. You've still yet to give a price.”

Another tactic of negotiation Clyde had leanred, never be the first to set a price.