Solo [Sunberth] And Out We Go, Into Misadventure

[Harman Dayis]

And Out We Go, Into Misadventure
19th Of Summer

Harman took a step forward.

Gods, the woods are humid, he thought to himself.

"What about you? What do make of all this, Harman?" a brunet inquired, as he turned his attention to the teenager he was addressing.

The brown haired man's name was Markus; and a fair haired, tanned brute who was called Andreas walked beside him. The two men had been hired on by the financier of the caravan, Byron, to act as his guards and to watch his slaves, just as Harman had. Apparently, they had been talking among themselves, as Harman drowned them out, and now sought to include their colleague in their conversation.

Harman looked to Markus, and then began to survey his surroundings for the one hundredth time that day. All three mercenaries - Harman, Markus, and Andreas - were trailing behind a large, horse drawn wagon. And they weren't the only ones - twelve other people were following the cart as well, but everyone but the three mercenaries wore collars.

Champion, Harman's dog, also trotted along happily beside his master's legs. The Deerstalker seemed to be enjoying the fresh air of the woods, and was bouncing with every step. His owner was relatively happy to see his friend so carefree and excited, but it did unnerve him a bit, that when every time a rabbit or squirrel passed by, his dog looked as if he were going to bolt towards them. Despite his interest in the surrounding woods, though, Champion never did run from the traveling party, and it was rather comical to see a dog such as him so enthusiastic. His tongue hung and swung from his mouth with glee, while his one eye surveyed the surroundings, and his single ear listened for anything interesting that it might pick up on.

Everyone that was not a hired hand, or driving and riding in Byron's cart, was a slave. Perhaps cruelly, all of the indentured individual's collars had long ropes attached to them, that were tied to Byron's moving wagon.

While any of the slaves could have easily enough reached up and unbuckled their collars from their necks at any time, none did. This was thanks to the presence of the guards that walked among them, and was one of the primary reasons that the three armed men had been hired.

"Well," Harman started to say, as he moved his attention away from the slaves and wagon, and back to Markus, "I'll tell you, I've never been a slave owning kind of guy. Never had the coin, and the thought just hasn't ever struck me."

"Yep, never even been to any slave market," Harman added.

The boy laughed.

"I'll admit, I wasn't listening to you guys. I think the wagon wheels dazed me out with their sound, a little bit. What do you think about them?"

Andreas chimed in first.

"Well, I don't think I'd buy any either. I don't really know that it's right," he said.

Markus scoffed.

Harman raised an interested eyebrow.

"The money for this job means more to you, though," Harman inferred.

The sixteen year old really had no driving urge to free the slaves - such thoughts really didn't even enter his mind. Still, he found the whole idea of being a slave a rather sad and desolate concept; to not be free to pursue his goals and ambitions would have crippled him. At the same time, it was only the empathetic thought of being a slave himself that bothered Harman even slightly. Other people being slaves didn't disturb him, as long as he didn't think too much about it.

"Does it to you?" Andreas asked in turn, and deflected Harman's suggestion with the question.

"I think you're wrongly assuming that I care in the first place. I feel bad for this lot, but I don't really feel for them. They doesn't concern me, and I'm happy to be getting the coin to keep them in line. So yea, the money does mean more to me, I guess," the teenager replied calmly.

"Money is money. We couldn't free them anyway," Markus stated.

"I wouldn't want to be one of them," Andreas revealed the cause of his empathy.

"Then don't ever put yourself in a position where you owe a lot of money to greedy men, or where you get captured by slavers," Harman suggested.

Markus chuckled.

"That's harsh, lad," he said.

"True, though," Harman replied.

Series So Far, And Permissions :

[Sunberth] Securing The Mark
A Little ExplanationI checked with Anarkhos, before I threw these npcs together. We're all good on that front.

[Harman Dayis]

And Out We Go, Into Misadventure
19th Of Summer

"Really - and I don't mean to be a petcher, Andreas - but you could just try focusing on yourself. You're not a slave, you're the guy watching them. Be happy about that - it does mean you're not what you don't want to be, after all" Harman mused and offered advice.

Champion barked.

"Shut up you. I don't care that you don't like collars," Harman jested.

The other two mercenaries laughed.

"So you can speak dog, lad?" Markus inquired.

"Quite fluently, actually," Harman admitted, "I'd watch out if I were you, though. Champion said your leg looked a bit like a stump earlier."

Markus cocked his head at Harman for a moment, whereas Andreas laughed as he got the joke before his compatriot.

Harman chuckled.

"Sorry, bad joke," the teenager said.

"Oh," Markus said and then laughed himself. "My fault, I didn't get it."

The three walked for a little while longer. Until Andreas began to hum.

Well, I guess I cheered him up, Harman thought to himself regarding the effect of the lighthearted banter he'd initiated.

"What are you humming?" Harman called over to Andreas, after a moment.

The blonde smiled, and allowed the tune he was carrying to die off, so he could answer the teen.

"I didn't want the break out in song, but everyone stopped talking," Andreas said. "It's just something my father taught me."

"It didn't sound too bad," Markus offered.

It really didn't, Harman thought and confirmed the man's words in his mind.

"Come on, how do the words go?" Harman asked.

"Aw, I don't know," Andreas said - he was suddenly sheepish.

Harman smiled.

"You can't even give us the first verse?" he prodded.

"Don't pester him, if he doesn't want to," Markus instructed.

"Well, I don't see you coming up with any interesting songs instead," Harman snapped back.

"Whatever, lad," Markus said.

"Prick!" Harman thought to himself, but didn't say aloud.

Harman looked around for a moment, and then had an idea. It was a little out of character, but he went with it anyway. Better to be on their good sides, he told himself.

"Gold, oh I love me some gold.
Oh gold, I don't care if the coin is warm or cold.
Gold, gold, gold - I don't need a house, gold can buy me any home.
With it, I can get a tower, or a fancy dome.
Gold, gold, I love me some gold!" Harman began to sing.

"Gods, that's horrible," Markus said, in an amused manner.

"This is what you get for not singing, Andreas!" Harman called back to his fellow mercenary.

"You're loud as petch," a man riding in the back of Byron's cart screamed out.

"I'm not sure what to say to that," Andreas replied. "I just hope you don't have any more of those in your head."

Harman smiled again.

"Relax boys, that's all I've got," he promised.

[Harman Dayis]

And Out We Go, Into Misadventure
19th Of Summer

Harman observed, as the caravan came to a stop. The slaves began to slow their steps, as the object they were tied to began to halt its roll.

The three mercenaries guarding the whole party shifted, waiting for some kind of direction. Champion looked up to his master and wandered off. Harman eyed the dog's movements for a moment, but looked away when the Deerstalker made no move to go anywhere but around the general vicinity.

"I guess it's time to set up camp?" Andreas observed.

"Maybe," Harman said.

The teenager shifted his attention to the front of the caravan. He waited a moment, as if expecting something. After a second, or two, he saw the portly form he was looking for.

"Sir, are we stoping for the night?" he walked up to and then inquired of Byron, the slavemaster.

"Yeah, just give me a second," he replied.

Byron scaled and dropped his way down from the driver's seat of his cart, and onto the dirt of the forest bed below. Harman watched the man brace his palms against the base of his spine, and then stretch himself backwards.

"Pop!" the bearded ginger's back cracked.

I see why he needs guards, Harman thought to himself - he observed that the man was quite large and old.

"Well," Byron started to speak, slowly, "I'm going to need all you boys to set up camp."

By the time their employer had finally begun giving his directives, Markus and Andreas had made their way to stand beside Harman. Four other men had also disembarked from riding in the back of Byron's cart, and were just making their way up to stand in front of their employer.

"We can do that, sir," Andreas confirmed.

"Any of you ever staked slaves?" Byron asked.

Harman tried not to look to any of the other mercenaries too much.

"I have," Markus admitted.

"I don't know what that means, really, sir," Andreas said, somewhat skeptically.

"You mind showing me, Markus?" Harman asked his compatriot.

Byron waved his hands, as if to dismiss the conversations.

"I'll show them," one of the men who had left the back of Byron's cart said.

Another of the four men who'd come up behind Markus, Andreas, and Harman held up a box full of hammers and wooden stakes.

"I've got the stakes right here," the raven haired mercenary said.

"Alright," Byron said, and then nodded to the mercenary who had offered to show the three new hires the ropes of 'staking slaves'. "Jacs show them."

"Follow me, boys," Jacs said.

The black haired mercenary handed the box of stakes to Jacs. Jacs then started moving towards the edge of the clearing that Byron's caravan had stopped in.

Andreas began to trail Jacs first, followed by Harman, and then Markus.

"The rest of you, get a fire going and then start pitching your tents," Harman heard Byron tell the rest of his hired hands, as he walked away with the three other men.

They've really got a system here, Harman thought to himself.

[Harman Dayis]

And Out We Go, Into Misadventure
19th Of Summer

Eyes of dark blue watched the caravan. Their owner sat perched atop a high tree limb, and was shrouded in natural shadow. The winged creature was too far away from the travelers for them to notice it stalking them, as the sun began to fade behind the orange, and white speckled horizon.

Jacs hammered the second stake into the malleable, forest soil. He drew himself to his full, and average height as he finished nailing about half of its length into the ground.

"Now, we set them apart a little away from each other, so the slaves don't tangle and trip over each other's ropes," Jacs explained, and denoted the small distance between the two stakes he had hammered into the ground.

Harman nodded.

"Easy enough," the boy said.

He barely stopped himself from saying "easy enough, sir".

"Yea, it really is," Jacs stated.

He's not my superior, just my senior, Harman reminded himself.

"Can we grab the stakes and start doing it?" Markus asked Jacs.

"Sure, let's get twelve in the ground," Jacs instructed. "Then we'll just have to untie the stock from the wagon and fasten them to their posts."

"Come on," Harman said to Andreas.

The boxer and the blonde mercenary both approached the box of stakes. Each of them withdrew both a wooden peg and a hammer, from the wooden container.

Harman made his way to an open bit of ground, that was a little ways away from from the last stake Jacs had set into the soil. Andreas followed his general path, and then branched off to a patch of earth a few paces away. Markus and Jacs were soon posting more of their own stakes as well.

Harman bent over and held the stake's sharpened point against the ground with one hand. Taking the hammer in his right hand, he smacked the stick's square head.

First time for everything, he thought.

Harman continued to hammer the stake into the ground, but something that he couldn't place was picking away at the back of his consciousness. He had finished with staking his first stake into the ground, and had another one halfway into the ground, before he realized what was on his mind.

Petch, I don't know how to set up a tent, he cursed mentally.

The teen finished with the second stake, and moved to a third as he held back his worry. Maybe he could watch one of the other guys do it, and imitate them - even if their tents would be different? It had to be a somewhat simple and uniform process, he assured himself.

"That's the last one," Markus declared.

The brunet was standing beside the box of stakes, which still had a few wooden pegs in it. Harman looked up and began counting out all the stakes that he, Andreas, Markus, and Jacs had nailed in.

One, two three...six...twelve, he counted.

"Alright, let's finish this up," Jacs said, and simultaneously clapped some mud off of his hands.

[Harman Dayis]

And Out We Go, Into Misadventure
19th Of Summer

The deep blue eyes of the winged creature blinked, and then zeroed in on the slaves of the caravan. She smiled. Such easy prey, she thought. Within the minute thereafter, and the limb that she sat upon was then empty.

Harman followed the rope that was attached to the slave's collar, to the knot that held it to Byron's cart. The boxer fiddled with the tied cordage for a moment, until he finally managed to break it free of its grasp on itself and the wagon it was affixed to.

He allowed the rope to hang free in his hands for a moment, and then wrapped it around his palm. The mercenary slowly followed the chord's length with his eyes. He traced the rope back to the green orbs of the woman at its end.

Green, he thought, how ironic.

The slave met the mercenaries own eyes, that were a lighter shade of green that matched some of the surrounding forest's foliage.

Harman kept the indentured woman's gaze for a moment, and then titled his head to where the stakes had been struck into the earth. The slave woman lowered her eyes, and took a step towards Harman as he begun to lead her to the area he had designated.

Harman stopped when he reached the nearest stake. Momentarily, he looked over to where Jacs was demonstrating how to tie a slave's rope to one of the wooden sticks, to Andreas and Markus. He, Andreas, and Markus all held ropes in their hands. At the ends of the ropes they grasped, were breathing, collared people.

Just a knot then, nothing complicated, Harman thought, as Jacs finished his demonstrating.

The boxer tugged on the chord he held, gently. The female at its end came to stand only a breath away from Harman, as he leaned down to affix her leash to the stake that they had come up upon.

As he tied, Harman found himself noticing the booted feet of the woman.

Well, they keep them clothed, at least, he thought to himself.

"What's your name?" Harman asked the green eyed woman in a lighthearted and careless tone, as he finished tying her off to the stake.

"Jacklyn, sir," she answered.

Harman stood to meet the woman's gaze, and looked her over.

Older than me, he noticed.

"I guess you would call me sir, wouldn't you," he mused. "What's it like, being a slave?"

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, I don't know if I'm supposed to be talking to you, but I'll tell them it was my idea, if they ask," Harman prodded.

"I don't know if you can," she admitted. "It's worse on us woman. It depends on who owns us"

Harman nodded.

She isn't my problem, but what she's suggesting is a little distasteful, Harman thought to himself.

"So you've belonged to more than one man?" Harman inferred and asked.

The slave stiffened. Her eyes drifted for a moment.

"Three men, one woman," she said.

"And which was the worst?" Harman delved.

"The first man beat me. The woman let others beat me," Jacklyn said.

Harman clasped the girl on the shoulder. Her eyes flared a bit, in minor surprise.

"Well, let's hope you don't get sold to any women then," he said, and walked off towards the other slaves that were tied to the wagon.

[Aladari Coolwater]

Hey Harman. I already PM'd you about this, but I'm gonna need you to update your ledger with Summer expenses before I grade your threads. Let me know when you've done so and I'll finish up your grades. Thanks.