Closed Just like cattle. (Khasr)

[Colt]

The leader was silent, eyes still fixed on the hunter as he thought the offer over. The hunter was fairly sure that it would be taken; one slave was an equal trade for their lives. The moments dragged on and he flicked his gaze towards the falcon in the sky; he didn’t know what she knew when it came to human weapons, but he hoped that she would warn him if any of the weapons found themselves pointed in his direction.

The slaver came to the end of his contemplation, and the cheerful mask of a good salesman was slammed over his face. He waved the hunter towards the caravan, and the Drykas warily urged Akaidras after. The stallion seemed to realize the tense nature of the situation, and thankfully did not resist. Neither steed nor rider were yet completely comfortable with their roles, but now they would have to cooperate. They were entering the lion’s den.

The rest of the slavers made way for the massive beast, and the hunter did his best to appear like he was ignoring them.

The door of the cage was opened, and the Drykas slid from his strider’s back. Akaidras was almost vibrating with restrained energy, ready to explode with violence at the first sign of threat. Perhaps the slavers could sense it. They kept their distance.

The hunter, too, was alive with caution. One hand was ready to dart to one of the javelins at his back, but he dared not risk a confrontation with the slavers by drawing arms first. Though he was no doubt in better health, their sheer numbers would easily overwhelm him. But he had come this far; he had no indention of backing off now. He stepped into the cage.

Some of the slaves shied away. Some crouched to make themselves look smaller. Others bared their teeth, ready to fight should he decide to strike them, and still others just watched him with distrustful desperation. But then there were those very few who did none of those things, just simply stood and watched him with an apathetic curiosity. A dead curiosity. And it was one of those that caught his eye.

At first the hunter wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing; the rest of the slaves stayed a few feet away from the figure leaning against the bars, making it stick out like a sore thumb. But a glance revealed that they were not doing so out of fear; the space around it was filled with thick coils that gleamed dully. Its head was that of a snake; angular, sleek, motionless. Could it be?

He had heard whispers of the Dhani, the snake-people. But he had never paid much thought to them, thinking them little more than tales to scare children to sleep. He had heard second- and third-hand accounts of encounters with them, but never given them heed. He had thought them, for all intents and purposes, little more than legends. But here was one before him, leaning calmly against the bars. A slave? Would a creature with such a fearsome reputation ever become such a thing? Surely it would have escaped?

He looked into its eyes and his breath caught.

Broken power. Ghosts of forgotten pride and grace, wounds that had never healed properly. Completely and totally emotionless. Uncaring.

Its scales were the color of mud, marred by countless scars and missing scales. Innumerable injuries had been dealt to this creature, injuries that had healed almost on display for the world to see.

This Dhani did not deserve to die here, in the Sea of Grass.

The hunter squared with the Dhani and tilted his head.

“Turn around,” he rasped. He needed to see the full extent of the injuries.

[Slither]

To see the slavemaster act, one'd think this was just another sale more, almost as if he were in a market. The man was doubtlessly experienced, and was keeping his outward appearance of calm really well given the circumstances. Because, after all, this wasn't a normal sale, proven by the level of armed tension in the air, the constant gauging glances the caravan's guards gave the rider, and though he couldn't see where that one's gaze went, Slither was certain that he was feeling no more safe among this company. Then they approached the holding wagons, the merchant opening the cell and inviting him in - they probably wouldn't try anything on an armed man, least of all while the slaves could help him, so if Slither's analysis held then there was no danger of them shutting him in with the slaves. He wasn't surprised when he got the buyer's attention. It wasn't as if he had the best features to blend into a crowd of humans, even with the mess they were making, some trying to go to the front to be picked, others falling back. A few even dared ball their fists, a gesture which would doubtlessly be noticed - and punished - by the slavemaster. But then the man's eyes rose, staring straight into the Dhani's eyes. Slither held his gaze for the brief instant it took him to react, immediately looking down, lowering his head slightly in a gesture that could mean nothing but submission, though he knew he was already in the wrong - he shouldn't have been caught looking at the rider. So it didn't come as a surprise when the man told him to turn around. He did so almost immediately, turning his back to the human and, while he couldn't see the two anymore, he heard the merchant say: "Shame! Slave have no manners! Humble apologizing, sir. You want to punish now, yes?" And after that came a peculiar ruffling of cloth with which the slaves had become really familiar in the last few weeks - the distinct sound the master did when pulling out his whip from his belt. The Dhani's shoulders slumped ever so slightly as the muscles on his back tensed up. With a crack, the first blow came, strong enough to make Slither bend forward slightly before returning to the original position, biting down the instinctive scream and turning it into a gasp. He couldn't tell if he was bleeding or not, but it felt like it'd gone past his scales. If he wasn't now he would be before the merchant was done, he realized with resignation when the merchant asked: "Ten do? Fifteen? Maybe twenty?"

[Colt]

In an instant, the slave’s eyes were cast at the ground humbly, though the hunter couldn’t imagine what he—it was male, he assumed—had done wrong. But something negative had obviously been perceived by the slavemaster, who eagerly set a lash to the slave’s back.

The response the hunter felt was visceral and violent, and had he not been in the center of a cage he would have leaped upon the slaver then and there and slain him. As it was, he was forced to restrain the hand that jerked towards the javelins at his back, hoping that, though the slaver’s attention was focused on the slave, that none of the guards had noticed.

He wished so very much to kill this man before him for the raw nerve of treating the slave that way. Had it been human, he suspected that his instinct would have been less powerful, but with a Dhani… something was different, something that the Drykas could not yet place.

And then the slaver had the gall to turn and ask if he wanted the slave beaten more, which the hunter found almost as irritating as the first whip.

He shook his head, eyes dangerously hard.

A “No,” dragged from his teeth. “Him, mine. I take, point to Riverfall.”

Even those words tasted bad upon his tongue. Or perhaps it was just the strain of so much speech; the formation of words was clawing at his throat, and the entire affair—the slaves, the slaver, the speaking, all of it—was leaving a bad feeling in his stomach. He wanted to get this over with quickly.

[Slither]

As soon as Khasr had made his choice, the merchant's behaviour changed drastically, obsequious tone absent from his voice, gone the shifty eyes looking everywhere at once to make sure the customer was being properly impressed. "Okay. You point now, then slave goes with you." The whip was gone in the blink of an eye as he grabbed Slither's shoulder above his own head and half-dragged the Dhani - the man couldn't move the slithering mass, but Slither followed him meekly to the cage's entrance , where he locked his own hands together with a set of iron manacles. "Don't take off. This one, Slither, one of snake people. Snake people, not good slaves. You take those off, he can do snake magic. " Initially, he'd been telling the Drykas out of habit, to keep the customer returning, but he realized this was a customer he really didn't want to return. Still, he thought, if the slave killed the Drykas because he hadn't been warned he could expect much more unpleasant visits. Probably for the best in the end. As for Slither, the turn of events wasn't completely unexpected. He didn't think he would be the one chosen, but it wasn't surprising either, given his size and uniqueness. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what the man wanted him for; and he didn't manage to shake off the thought that he probably had some very original punishment to deal on him. He shuddered slightly, disguising the movement as a simple shifting of his coils, and prepared to leave the caravan behind. With any luck, he wouldn't come to miss it. Around them, the caravan guards were forming around the cage's exit, giving a very clear sign that Khasr was not going to leave until they had their directions. A stretched arm with the palm turned towards the warriors made them stop where they were, simply holding the circle for now. Once the transaction was complete, though, there'd be no reason for the Drykas to be intercepted; busy as they would be trying to get to Riverfall.

[Colt]

The man’s oily smile dropped in an instant, and his sickeningly cheerful façade gave way to the harsh man that would whip a slave for little reason than to please a buyer. The hunter bit his lip to keep it from curling in disgust.

But he had made his choice, and so it was time for him to hold up his end of the bargain. He nodded.

“Agreed.”

Still, he was no fool; if he pointed the way now, the slaver could easily slam closed the door and add him to the merchandise. He glanced at the door.

“Outside,” he said, making no attempt to hide the distrust in his gaze. “Not in cage.”

The slave was dragged to the cage’s threshold, and the movements allowed the hunter to see just how massive the creature was. The seemingly endless lengths of scaled muscle shifted and roiled after the torso, almost as separate beings. Though the Dhani could have no doubt overpowered the slaver—perhaps the whole caravan, if he tried—he followed the salesman submissively, eyes cast down, and put on his own shackles. The hunter bit deeper into his lip to restrain a true snarl.

The slaver was speaking again, and the hunter only half-listened. Those words were not interesting.

He held his hands out before him in peace and walked towards the door, wary eye kept on the half-circle of guards around it. He could see their tension, and their hands were used to the blades at their hips. But he could also see their desperation; it would be foolhardy to challenge them, and his step was careful when he returned to the dirt of the plains. He gestured for the slave to be brought out after him, then pointed directly south.

“That way. Two days, you come to river. Follow river, it lead to Riverfall."

[Slither]

Outside the man wanted, and outside he got, the caravan master leading the way. Slither followed them both, the sweat in the air betraying the tension that lay underneath this transaction. The guards stepped back slightly as he left the cage following the man's gestures; a few of them hoping he didn't remember their faces - which the Dhani did not, but he hadn't forgotten their smell. Still, revenge had long disappeared from his list of priorities, replaced by survival and, to a certain extent, comfort. He would never live in luxury, but there was no reason for him to make his own life harder, as he'd learnt the hard way. His new Master pointed towards a direction that, as far as Slither knew, was completely random, claiming it would lead the caravan to a river and then to Riverfall. The news were received in two ways - with overwhelming hope written over most of the guards' faces, but with suspicion written in the caravan master's face. Still, there was nothing to do now. They'd both held their ends of the bargain and, as far as Slither was concerned, the faster they left the better. If a fight broke out it would be a gamble from him to take sides, one he'd rather avoid. For a few seconds the slave trader looked into the rider's eyes, trying to read anything in them, before finally making an abrupt backwards gesture and barking out something. Whatever it was, the guards stepped back, letting the rider and Slither through. The peace was almost instantly broken by a loud yell of "Good riddance, snake bastard!" coming from the cage Slither had just left; in a butchered common. Whoever it was, he had definitely chosen the wrong time to be rebellious because, in the blink of an eye, the caravan master was walking back inside the cage, whip in hand, asking loudly for whoever was responsible. If Slither knew how that worked, the guy who'd yelled wouldn't be punished. Instead, him and his buddies would point to some other slave they didn't like inside the cage, who'd take the beating for them. Still, that was no longer any of his bussiness - he just stood behind and to the side of Khasr, waiting either to be spoken to or for him to move on as the guards around them started spreading to get the caravan on the move again.

[Colt]

The slaver seemed just as distrustful of the hunter as the hunter was of the slaver, but there was little choice before him. A long, agonizing silence passed, and the air around them rang with tension.

Then the slaver turned, and with a bark like the snap of his whip ordered something of his entourage. For a moment the hunter feared that he was ordering the guards to attack, and instinct drew him to attention in an instant. But it seemed that his alarm was misguided, and the guards paid him little mind as they moved to follow his directions.

Someone inside the cage shouted, and the slaver’s whip was suddenly back in his hand. The slaver stepped into the cage, most likely to punish whoever had spoken out, but the hunter did not care. They were not his concern, and now, neither were the slavers.

The hunter turned to the slave—Slither, he had been called—and considered exactly what to do with him. He certainly couldn’t ride Akaidras; with all of that mass, the Dhani wouldn’t even fit. This made the Drykas reluctant to mount; he didn’t want to be forced to keep the strider at a walk so Slither could keep up. Perhaps it would be best if they both walked.

Before they returned to camp, however, he needed to see Slither’s back once more. The hunter approached and offhandedly undid the slave’s shackles, then carefully navigated around the rest of the creature’s body until he could see where the whip had bit. The welt that had been left was raised and red, but hardly looked like the worst the Dhani had suffered in the past. The old wounds that had scarred over were impossible for the Drykas to do anything about, but this single new one was within his reach. He knew a grand total of one plant that would help, but it was a common one.

As the caravan pulled away, the hunter signed for Akaidras. The horse approached readily, ill at ease with what had occurred, and bumped his rider’s chest. The next was the ke-ke-ke for the falcon to signal that the interaction was over and that he wanted to vacate the area. Then he turned, looked into one of Slither’s great slitted eyes, and gestured for him to follow.

The grass’s embrace couldn’t have been sweeter, and the hunter made to put as much distance between him and the caravan as he could on foot.

[Slither]

The moment of tension came and went, and nobody moved to attack the rider. Slowly, the caravan packed and left - they certainly wouldn't be missed - , leaving Slither alone with his new Master. The Dhani's dulled emotions had nothing to say about this, and the snakeman stood apathetically, staring into the distance without much focus. Somewhere, he'd realized that whatever this human wanted with him was going to happen whether he thought about it or not, so he pushed any worries aside, simply enjoying the feeling of the grass under his scales again, sunlight, and most importantly, fresh air that didn't reek of sweat and fear. The human looked at him, a measuring look the slave was used to receiving, before unshackling him and, in the same moment, breaking the Dhani's inner peace.There was no reason he could see for the human to let him loose, larger and stronger as he was; even if he'd been assured that he was no threat. His mind jumped into possibilities, trying to figure out the reason, before his practiced apathy set in once more, releasing him from his worries. Nothing he could do about the human's plans. And so, as his new Master walked behind him, Slither stood perfectly still, like a breathing statue. Whatever the human got out of it, the Dhani could not guess, but soon he was calling his horse and making what could only be described as weird noises. Then he looked into Slither's eyes, that quickly moved down to avoid his gaze, and signalled him to follow. With the calm that resignation gave, Slither followed his new, nameless Master through the grass. He was hungry, tired, and aching, but complaining was not something he was allowed to do, so he just dragged on.

[Khida]

He walked boldly into the large cage, an act the falcon didn't understand, and which unsettled her further still. On the wrong side of the cage door, it would be too easy for him to be trapped -- and with all these other men around weaponed, there would be little the Kelvic could do to help him. She couldn't see clearly inside as she circled overhead, but she heard the crack of the whip just fine -- only one, but that one another cause for concern. However, the hunter walked back out of the cage shortly afterwards, with a stranger and a... an even more strange snakeish creature following after. Khida had heard of that sort, in Ahnatep, but she hadn't known they lived in the grasslands also. Or -- did they? After all, the people with the wagons had been keeping it in a cage. As she mused over this, the hunter made his way out from among the wagons, the stranger hanging back and directing the guards aside, the snake-man slithering along in the hunter's wake. Seeing this gave Khida pause, interrupting her more idle musings, and she studied the snake-man more closely. He moved... quiet, reserved, even uncaring. Snake he may be, but not even suspicion could paint a threat into his posture, his downcast gaze. The hunter didn't seem to be concerned about him either -- not as a hazard, but... perhaps as a companion? Another person to travel with the hunter, horses, and falcon? Khida wasn't entirely certain what she thought about that possibility. But perhaps it wasn't what he had in mind. She would simply have to wait and see. The wagons behind the hunter formed up and began to rumble their slow passage away; taking that to mean they had no further interest in her partner, the falcon turned away from them and aimed to follow his progress. As she did so, he voiced a summons for her; Khida shed altitude and descended to a level a few feet above the walkers' heads, chirping acknowledgement as she flew past them. Then she climbed partway back up and circled back around, not yet sufficiently at ease to leave off her sentinel's role.

[Colt]

The slavers drew away, and eventually the grass swallowed them completely. The were just as quickly gone from the hunter’s concern; the whip’s welt was raised and angry, and the scars of its older siblings made him uncomfortable, as if he himself had borne those strikes. It was a strange, primal sort of empathy that caused the hunter to move back around to where Slither could see him.

“Stay,” he said in common, and even though his voice was ragged it held an unusual gentleness.

She passed overhead, chirping in connection before arcing back into the sky. He let her do so, even breathing a small sigh of relief––she was watching, and if danger came there would be some warning. He signed a thank you, though was not sure if it was one she caught or not.

Sage was a plant he had known of since before he could remember; though he didn’t eat it, seeing the plant always came with the sharp, unbidden thought of this is helpful. It had been instinct in the crater drawing him to shred the leaves and put them on cuts and bruises, and he had seen healers do the same in Endrykas. It was the same instinct that drew him now, though this would not be for him; something had to go on the Slither’s back.

He didn’t have to go far to find the plant, common as it was; the hunter knelt by the plant and plucked a handful of the largest leaves, and as he stood began to scratch and break them to bring all of the natural disinfectant to the surface. By the time he returned to where he had left the Slither, the leaves were dark and sticky.

The hunter carefully stepped over the Dhani’s coils until he was once again at the creature’s back. He put a hand on the Slither’s shoulder, both to let it know he was there and to steady his own motions, and couldn’t help but pause; he’d never touched a snake before, not even a small, common one. The Slither’s skin was hard and smooth, even where it was scarred, and it was a moment before he could shake off his wonder to continue. Slowly and carefully, the Drykas wiped the sage over the welt, coating it as thoroughly as he was able. He tried to be gentle, but his hands were not the hands of a healer; he couldn’t help the roughness that the brought, as much as he fought to quell it.

After a few minutes, he was satisfied with his work and stepped back, almost tripping when he forgot about the masses of coils around him. He managed to keep from toppling over, and managed to avoid stepping on the Dhani as he made his way to open ground.

“Now,” he rasped, moving the where the Slither could see him. “This. Good. Help wound. Kill bad, help heal. Name is sage.”