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| Feeding the Bear; <P> | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Wed Dec 26, 2012 8:49 pm (214 Views) | |
| T'zah Anous | Wed Dec 26, 2012 8:49 pm Post #1 |
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Taiaka's hovel had its charm. The walls were tapered with thick carpets, most probably stolen from a variety of Balefire's gaudier brothels. The bed was a serpentine coil of treated furs and worn pillows, offensive to the eye but an opiate womb after a night of hard drinking. Night and day were kissing cousins in the bandit city, when T'zah awoke, only the candle length told him it was morning. The mop of strawberry blonde hair against his chest was a warm reminder that this new world hadn't stolen all of his abilities; she cooed as a naked leg traveled the length of his body. Softly, he ran a hand down her cheek as he slipped from beneath her, dressing while still in his wavering stupor. The vampire didn't bother to knock on the door. "Everything is in order." T'zah glared at the undead bouncer, tucking the shirt into his trousers while attaching the humming mace at his hip. Manners were never the priority of the mosquitoes, no matter the realm, yet this one's usefulness would guarantee a certain level of obsequiousness on the Djinn's part. "I have specific needs," T'zah grumbled as he hefted the hammer onto his back. Taiaka was the consummate scavenger, yet past the glimmer of his finds, the Gazer's eye often missed the value of his trinkets. A night of digging through the uneven piles of treasure and trash had fed the Djinni's starved supply of the arcane. He felt more himself every passing moment, still a shade of his megalomaniacal memory mirror image, but less a guppy than a shark. "You'll find the flesh you're looking for," the vampire's eye darted to the form on the bed, the smell of the crypt like a pheromone haze. The Sheriff of Balefire slipped an address into T'zah's palm but before T'zah could bend to step into his boots, the vampire's hand snapped around his wrist. "But this information does not come cheap, my bottled friend." T'zah grimaced, nodding briefly before twisting out of the grip and stepping to the circular bed. "Darling," he purred, his hand spider walking up the curve of her hip, the smooth edges of his manicured fingernails connecting the aurora of freckles up the girl's naked back. She shivered and stirred, arching her back into his hand and turning an opal glowing face up to him with doped eyes. "Hmm," she breathed with her talented mouth and T'zah offered her a smile as her vision sharpened. Number 33, the lover. "I need to tip the porter." T'zah gripped the girl with his left hand, pulling her off the bed with as little effort as taking out the evening's trash. She thrashed once, his grip against the back of her neck tightened enough to earn a hissing sob. The vampire dropped the pretence of his title and his status, body trembling like a reed, eyes narrowing with a different lust. T'zah dropped her at the sheriff's feet. "Be sure to clean up when you're done." ********** Balefire's slave trade was a disappointing administrative franchise; a stovepipe of droll bureaucrats needed to be greased to move the gearworks. T'zah could have purchased what he needed using lackey go betweens, signing paperwork in triplicate and filing petitions of possession. It was nauseating; the joy of flesh peddling was lost in the administrative pas de deux. Yet T'zah needed more than unpaid help; as a stranger in a strange land, a Djinn's longevity was based on the strength of his associations. A friend was worth his weight in gold. Or butterscotch. Ah, butterscotch. The slave auction was in the subbasement of a candy shoppe, the smell of confectoner's delights lost to the stench of stale sweat and bile. The buyers were pressed together en masse, swaying as the auctioneer's voice peppered them with his spitfire patios. The stock here was generated from all the no sales across Balefire's proper slave trade; here, if a buy was not made, the lot ended with a sharp knife and a quick spurt of blood. Most of the people here simply came for the letting, the energy and the roar of the crowd. T'zah found a corner in the musty subterranian hovel and waited. The Sheriff of Balefire had sent word through the proper channels that a Djinn was interested in meeting one of the most well known slave traders in Imythess. The purchase he was going to make was inconsequential, the minimum of profit; T'zah was prepared to pay the highest price for the low quality slave he sought. Instead, the Djinn wanted audience with this Dark Lord, a magical savant once spoken of with the hushed reverence of a god. T'zah was playing a murderous hand, the risk of being snuffed out in this noisy hole was palpable, but T'zah's goals were lofty. A former deity of the hungry shadows would be a fine friend indeed. "No sale!" And the crowd cheered, T'zah's smile reached his eyes, his face a wash of golden mirth. Number 72, the jackal. If anything, this would be a pleasant morning. |
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| Seele | Thu Dec 27, 2012 6:15 pm Post #2 |
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It was endlessly irritating to Seele that his business endeavors forced him to interact with the scum of the earth. Slaving was a lucrative enterprise, but there were so few refined individuals that partook of its prosperity. For some reason he had never understood, their morals opposed the acquisition and selling of sentient creatures. They simply did not understand that without power, an individual was nothing. He treated his slaves as he would treat a sword or article of clothing: a tool, a commodity, an amount of gold that could be put to better use. His chattel consisted of sorry fools that were too weak or unintelligent to deserve the pity that most of the populace of Imythess felt for them. They were the destitute and desperate and stupid, those who deserved nothing better than crowded cages and fetters clasped around their ankles. The elf carefully kept his distaste from showing on his face as another one of the auctions ended in a lack of interest. The crowd waited with bated breath as a man stepped out of the shadows, a gleaming knife held in his hand. The privilege of slitting the throat of the unwanted slaves was reserved for those with the coin to afford it. From his finely-tailored silk garments, Seele suspected that this man was a high-ranking official in Balefire, probably an understudy or assistant to one of its Lords and Ladies. The knife was clearly an indication of his station as opposed to his skill in combat. The hilt and pommel were encrusted with gemstones and gold filigree glimmered on its flat, but all of that wealth and finery was obscured a moment later by a torrent of thick crimson. The slave crumpled to the stage and the crowd roared, a single bestial noise simultaneously torn from a multitude of throats. Seele stared at the corpse as the assistants dragged it off of the stage. A woman, not attractive enough to inspire lust in base men, nor young enough to be trained as an artisan in any craft. A useless specimen, but still one that could have been sold for a small profit to the proper party. Wasteful, always so wasteful. Auctions such as this were necessary, but that did not mean that he had to contribute to the madness. The money collected from the crowd and would-be executioners was minuscule compared to the profits he made daily. Seele's slaving empire had spread considerably since he first wrenched it away from a greedy nobleman in Taras. He traded in every major metropolis in Imythess and even participated in the markets of far-off Choer and Suler. His operatives constantly scoured the realm for more people that wouldn't be missed if they vanished without a trace, at times kidnapping entire villages to swell his stocks. He had specimens of almost every race in Chaon that could be purchased... for the right price. He had more money than he could possibly spend, more wealth than a hundred thousand lifetimes could justify. The majority of the profits were siphoned into other projects, dozens of endeavors across the world that only Seele knew about. The only reason he had deigned to come to this degenerate corner of Balefire was that an interested buyer had chosen it as a meeting spot. Seele still preferred to meet with new clients personally, whenever possible, and he had already been in the City of Lanterns for other reasons. He scanned the underground chamber once more, making sure that that his men were in their proper places. He had half a dozen bodyguards here tonight, including his primary lieutenant, Rothe'jabbuk'rosinwun'veldrind'isto. The imposing drow stood near the entrance into the room, heavily muscled arms cross over his chest and serrated scimitars hanging from either hip. The dark elf caught his eyes and nodded towards a dark corner, indicating that the contact had arrived while Seele had been distracted. The slaver glanced in that direction, smirking when he found the man that matched the provided description. He stood up from the table, moving deftly through the crowd. He had magically disguised his features to help maintain a low profile for this meeting. He still appeared tall and gaunt, but his features had been changed completely. He had a thick, squat nose with broken blood vessels that suggested a lifetime of alcoholism, ruddy cheeks, and deep-set brown eyes that stared out from underneath shaggy eyebrows. His hair was dark black and cut close to the skull, and there was a thick scar that marred his right cheek. Seele had used this disguise in Balefire before and was believed to be a low-ranking criminal lord that purchased slaves to bolster his gang's ranks. It was a useful persona that he often used when he wanted to travel incognito in the city. He slid into the seat opposite the Djinn with a small, amused smile. "T'zah, I presume?" Seele rested his elbows on the table, linking his fingers and resting his chin upon them. "A mutual friend has indicated you have an interest in my business." For a moment his features blurred as the elf peeled back the illusionary face, allowing the man to see his true appearance for an instant. Silvery hair framed an angular face with deathly pale skin. His irises shimmered like molten gold, and his pupils were shaped like miniature hourglasses. An instant later the glamor snapped back into place, restoring the disguise. "For tonight, you may call me Barra." |
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| T'zah Anous | Mon Dec 31, 2012 7:19 am Post #3 |
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This man is a death adder, T'zah thought. The glam reforming around Seele's features could not conceal the confession of its necessity. The djinn leaned heavily against the wall with a hefty sigh, losing a few inches of height and twenty pounds of weight in a sudden pop. His magical hiccups taunted him even here where his array of spells read like the menu in a greasy diner. The slave trader's play surprised him. T'zah expected to have to work through a lackey, some third rate citizen in the criminal bureaucracy ready to read a rubber stamped sales pitch. His own gold hued eyes scanned the crowd, seeing hints of Seele's harriers, their attentions far less focused on the circus to be regulars. And of course, the coal hued Drow that could not hide his presence in the void offered by unsettled buyers standing nearby. "A necessary evil," T'zah mused, acknowledging Seele's need for secrecy. He removed green tinted lenses from the inside of his jacket and slipped them on. "I find these transactions tedious. Seems to me more trouble than good to buy flesh nowadays." He would not look directly at 'Barra', choosing instead to adopt an overall distaste for the rather homely stranger. T'zah babbled while his eyes undulated with the velocity of his thoughts. "This place, while repulsive, is honest." The next lot brought onstage was an injured pit fighter, stained with the detritus of his most recent defeat. His one unbandaged eye scanned the crowd, perhaps the very same people that roared when it's twin was plucked from his head. "It is savage but it is their nature and in the dark, accepted. What is lacking in our business is honesty." The bidding was fierce and the Djinn allowed himself to watch the auction, following the subtlest upturn of a chin or the fiercest stomp of a boot. Their sales minister kept the air electric, instigating wars of attrition and driving the price up in a crowd aggressive with blood lust. "They may kill three, four slaves a night but they make 300% profit on their sales. Most of the people in this crowd know that and yet they still buy. Because they admit they come for the blood." The Djinn enjoyed this place. The smile on his face was natural, uncatalogued by the rulebook of a past defined by unfettered selfishness. T'zah could not wish his pleasures into reality at the whisper of every whim; he was forced to endure tedium to amuse himself. Imythess did not suffer his kind lightly and with the absence of his stereotypical abilities, he had only the ugliness of his racial prejudice as an advantage. "Barra, I would purchase a slave from you, one of your own choosing and at the first price you quote. I am charmed by this place's honesty, it is infectious." He looked at Seele and offered a humble tilt of the head, a private handshake before an opening salvo. "So I will be honest. I see that you, of not unsubstantial power, cannot travel freely in these places. Yet I am as expected as the sawdust on the floor and that might be profitable to you." That he was as useless as a street corner slight of hand conman was an unnecessary confession. After all, he was just introducing himself to honesty. Edited by T'zah Anous, Mon Dec 31, 2012 7:23 am.
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| Seele | Thu Jan 3, 2013 8:45 pm Post #4 |
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Only a few seconds after he sat down there was a sudden and inexplicable change in his companion's size and bulk. Seele just barely kept himself from jerking in reaction to the magic that accompanied the alteration. As a trained archmage, the elf had an intrinsic ability to sense the subtle, shifting currents of mana in his direct surroundings. It was a useful ability that allowed him to notice when a magician was drawing in power for spellcasting or identify an item as enchanted. It did not feel like the Djinn had summoned the surge of power consciously, which was the only reason the slaver didn't respond with a spell of his own He had not survived this long after his fall from deityhood without a healthy dose of paranoia. He was tempted to ask what the source of the arcane disruption was, but his guest pointedly ignored the unusual occurrence, so Seele did the same. He listened to the man speak at length about the dual necessity and repulsiveness of their surroundings. The elf leaned back in his chair, tilting his body to glance at the selling platform like an interested buyer. "Every business is lacking in honesty, at its foundations. It is simply more noticeable in this business thanks to the... clientèle to which it caters." Seele flicked one hand in front of him, gesturing to the crowd of bloodthirsty spectators. "These men and women consist of the lowest ranks in a hierarchy that consists of only scoundrels and wretches. I try not to hold their nature against them. After all..." His smile was as thin and sharp as a razor blade. "They have managed to make me very influential indeed." Seele had come to expect unusual requests from his clients, but the ambiguous nature of T'zah's interest was rather novel. Most the time he was contacted by individuals that knew exactly what they wanted. "Your adherence to honesty is refreshing, but you have left me in a conundrum. You clearly know much of me, but I know little of you... or your needs." He tapped one hand on the table, drumming his fingers at a steady rhythm. "I can provide you with merchandise to fulfill any desire. Servants or workers, bodyguards or gladiators, eye candy or bed warmers." "To be completely truthful, I care little for how you use them after our transaction is complete. I can give you an honest price, but if you wish for a servant yet I give you a warrior..." He shrugged slightly. "I would hate to do you such a disservice." The comment about being unable to walk freely here irked the slaver, but he chose to let it slide. If T'zah believed him to be less powerful because he chose to wear a disguise, so be it. He was also curious about the Djinn's offer of his services but knew better than to appear too interested. |
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8:20 AM Jul 11

