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Post by ThatDenver on Jun 25, 2017 7:35:30 GMT -6
ULYSSES
Summer 1700 - Gilded Bridge
It was late morning already – the people of Aodh were busy with their daily duties. The city was alive with sound and smell. A few labor slaves were fixing a ceiling with the help of a paid worker, a watchful chevalier just a few feet away. Some nobles and their entourage of slaves were perusing some sweets at a merchant’s stand. Merchants were shouting over each other, each advertising their wares to the passersby. A young artisan was playing at a street corner, with a few equines stopping to listen on the playful tune he had devised. It was a scene like any other day, yet he was intimately aware of each little difference, those small flairs of personality each day brought.
Ulysses did not get out that often. He preferred it that way, as the world inside his small Sanctum was safe, guarded by the gazes of all five gods. But he was the Flamen, and with that came responsibility. When he was still a mere helper, he could afford to hide away in the corners of a Sanctum, but now he had to stand proud. He had to not only guide, but also handle those menial day to day task, from the money and purchases to the organization and scheduling.
Today it was the one first mentioned which brought him to the Gilded Bridge. Vatros had received a few kind donations, and with them, he had decided to purchase some fresh fruit for the poor, as well as more oatmeal and rye for the porridges. A new linen for himself was also in demand – for he had been told that for more formal meetings, he had to look the part, regardless of the Sanctum he guarded. So it would be.
He had come with a few helpers, who had already headed back home with the food. Now the linens were secured as well, and he was discussing measurements with an artisan tailor who was present at the market today, advertising her beautiful wares.
That matter settled, Ulysses was ready to head home. His heart longed for the Sanctum’s silence, even after a short absence. But as he turned to trace his steps back down the bridge, a slaver’s stall caught his eye.
The slave on display was a large brute – not the tallest horse he had seen, but wide and thick with hard muscle. Heavy set, with a hairless neck and short tail. War-Forged breeding, he mused. The scars on the slave’s face looked like they had a story behind them, and the bit and collar told another story entirely. Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure that he had seen this slave for sale before… Or perhaps heard his description from one of the slave visitors of the Sanctum. It was a big city, but not that big.
Against his better judgement, Ulysses approached the seller.
“The Smoldering Sun shine upon you on this fine morning”, Ulysses greeted the salesperson with a friendly nod and a courteous smile. His eyes turned towards the large slave, and he asked: “What is the story with this one?”
Word count: 521
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jun 25, 2017 14:23:09 GMT -6
"This was the face of slavery. To have nothing, and still have something more to lose."
If there was one thing that Omar loathed more then being put to work, it was standing in a slave string, yet again placed up for sale by Deidra. It never did any good. It was always the same, standing for hours upon hours in the sun and elements. He never got bought or even really looked at.
Once, when he first came, he had been quite an interesting piece to many nobles and buyers. Yet, over the years, the rumors and knowledge of what he was like spread, and most dared not to touch him with a ten foot pole.
Chestnut ears flicked forward for a few moments, listening to the sounds of life around him. So free. No chains or metal binding them and jingling with every step. No bits in their mouths. Omar's gaze followed some youngsters running about and causing trouble. Reminded him of his raiders and himself when they were young, in a more squishy, pampered sort of way.
He shook his head to beat off a few flies wandering about, the metal bell on his neck ringing loudly. At this point, he would take doing the heavy work he was used to. Anything other then standing still, his feet hobbled, bit in mouth, and tied to the slaves beside him. He didn't consider himself an antsy, impatient type like some he'd seen, who were blessed with far too much energy then one could do good with. But he did get bored in situations like this. He'd already been standing for nearly five hours!
However, a change occured in the routine that was more then interesting, and a tad infuriating, to the large stallion. Someone approached his seller, another stallion, most likely a pampered noble from his appearance too. He'd only seen nobles with markings like that. Hmph. The smile on his face was most likely fake, as was the nod. No one seemed to be genuine in Aodh. It was all polished gold and marble masks. Feh. Omar grunted, rolling his eyes and turning his gaze to the equines milling about under the sun rather then his prick. Must be dumb if he was asking about himself... Didn't hear the stories or anything.
"Not much to tell other then a long list of repeated occurances. Brought in from War-Forged nearly twelve years ago, with not much known before that, and in that time has changed hands more often and more times then most. Often the cause was escape attempts, as well as aggression and extreme disobedience. Deidra's his master for the time being, but he's open for sale again if you're interested? Otherwise I'm quite sure he'll end up as a Labor Slave within the next month or two. Been given too many chances, that brute." The salesperson said, raising a brow and giving the chestnut stallion a judgemental glance.
Omar growled, tossing his head lightly in annoyance. Going to drive off yet another one, he saw. No one liked his story even if they were interested. He even considered giving a few sharp words to the potential seller. But, he wanted to stay in his current rank for as long as possible. If he was to become a Labor Slave, then he might never get out. And it sounded like he was running out of time...
So he dared not get his hopes up, but he dared not speak rudely while being inquired about. Wisdom is knowing when to have patience, and hold one's tongue, after all.
"Deidra doesn't seem to be asking too much for him. Most likely just wants him gone like all the rest of his owners. She got some manners into his thick head," the salesperson paused at a snarl from the chestnut in question, "but he's still... Rough, around the edges."
633 Words; Post 1
Pinging: ThatDenver
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Post by ThatDenver on Jun 25, 2017 16:38:21 GMT -6
ULYSSES
Hearing the story did ring a few bells. He was not one for gossip, nor one for hanging out with slavers, but slaves talked as well. It did sound like this slave had not been blessed with an easy life – a few lucky slaves lived like royals, pampered by their loving owners. But those slaves were rare, and even then, they were not free. Although Ulysses knew that some slaves were too damaged by their servitude to ever be truly free. To balance that, others were fiercely chasing their freedom, and this fellow seemed to be of the latter type.
Ulysses gave the slave a curious look as the seller spoke. It hurt his heart to think of another poor, lonely soul being taken as a Labor Slave. He knew many of those slaves, and their lives were often short and dark. There were exceptions, of course, but most did not live to be old, and their deaths were rarely peaceful ones.
The slave seemed to know this as well, judging by his grim expression and snarling teeth. Ulysses was only listening at the slaver with one ear, more focused on watching the slave. It was an assessing look, but not the look of a buyer. Ulysses was gauging the damage of this soul, whether he could help the slave. There were many unfortunate souls within Aodh, and it was simply not a possibility to grab at each one. He did not have room for every abused creature out there, so he wanted to pick ones he could truly help.
After a moment of silent thinking, he arrived at a conclusion.
“Yes, I would like to buy him. I don’t mind roughness”, he told the seller in a soft voice. The seller seemed perplexed, but decided against arguing with the buyer about the decision. Deidra would be pleased to be rid of the slave, after all. The chestnut brute would likely be back on the market soon enough, but with any luck, he would be someone else’s problem then.
Currency changed hands. Omar was a cheap slave for someone so big and muscular – the discount for personality was quite obvious – or perhaps he had simply been circled through all those who had the means to buy expensive slaves already, so there was no point in asking for a big stack of cash. Whatever the reason for the price, it did not cut too deep a hole in the Sanctum’s budget, and Ulysses found it to be a laughably small price for a life.
With the transaction complete, the seller let Omar loose from his bonds, only leaving the bridle and
“Come along. I’m afraid it is a bit of a walk to my home”, Ulysses sounded almost apologetic when speaking to the slave, and guided the large chestnut towards the Artisan District. They would have to walk almost the whole way through the district, since Vatros was located at the very edge of that strand, near the last part of the bridge that led to the Dark District.
Once they had built up some distance between themselves and the seller, and left the busiest part of the bridge behind, Ulysses turned his head towards the slave, and asked: “What is your name? I am Ulysses, Flamen of Vatros.”
Word count: 548
Post #2
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jun 25, 2017 17:41:54 GMT -6
"This was the face of slavery. To have nothing, and still have something more to lose."
Omar's gaze narrowed in response to the fact he was being watched. No, he couldn't. He'd be a bloody idiot with a 'ead full of Apana shit if he actually did it. He'd been lucky to end up at Deidra's instead of in chains with the rest of the labor slaves the first time. Going to a pompous noble? He'd already sunk this far, he didn't know if he wanted to be yanked back up.
He actually did it. He actually wanted to buy him. He was more of an idiot then Omar had first thought. A belt of laughter nearly left his maw at the sheer idiocy. Oh, this would honestly be all too easy to break him and his patience. Didn't mind rough? He'd find out soon enough just what he got himself into. A few days of good behavior, maybe hours, then he'd either pressure him to the point of selling him again, or, he'd try to escape... After all, his careful planning over his time with Deidra was nearly complete. He just needed a few good eyes and ears in the city to let him know of where Chevaliers were at what times, and he'd be out soon enough.
He watched the currency change hands, and then the hobbles were unbuckled, and the ties disconnected from his collar. He didn't move for a few moments, staring at his 'new owner' with a great deal of skepticism. This, this was also familiar. Years back, of course, but familiar nonetheless. Omar rolled his eyes at the 'come along'. So polite... Hmph.
"Can't be a longer walk then the one from Onea to Valore, with chains on my feet and a bridle on my head." Omar snarked as a reply in a deadpan tone. But lifting one foot after the other, he followed his 'new master'. It was quiet between them for a time. Omar's ears flicked and he somewhat shoved his way through the crowd. The waves of equines ebbed and Omar assumed they were getting to the ends of the district.
He swung one ear forward, listening to him speak. Ulysses. The other words honestly didn't mean much. Although he had spent many years in Aodh, it didn't mean he cared much about learning their ranks and customs other then the ones that were useful to him and his plans. He huffed, irritation in his tone, but forcing himself to cool it down some after his earlier snark. "Omar," He replied, chewing on his bit. His gaze wandered slowly, gauging where exactly he was being led in the city, and, if this would impede his plans.
439 Words; Post 2
Pinging: ThatDenver
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Post by ThatDenver on Jun 25, 2017 18:07:01 GMT -6
ULYSSES
Ulysses nodded his head at the introduction. Omar seemed unhappy with the situation, for which the Flamen did not blame him. It was not good for anyone’s mental health to be a slave, much less be a slave that was constantly bounced around between masters and homes. Absentmindedly he wondered if Omar would like living in Vatros, if he would get along with Ealyn and the various visitors. In his limited experience, slaves were usually not hostile towards each other unless they had a legitimate disagreement, so he wasn’t too worried.
The beauty of the Artisan District opened up around them. Many of the facades were quite ornamental and detailed, each showcasing the personalities of those who resided in the home. There were various forges and other places of work scattered about, but most of them were not in the immediate vicinity of the Gilded Bridge, which provided a clean path through it all. There were merchants around these parts too, but not quite as many as closer to the Crucible, and most of them seemed to be focused on artisan goods, as one could probably expect. A few equines greeted the passing Flamine, but none attempted to stop him for discussion.
As they walked even further down the Bridge, the beauty became less pronounced. While all artisans were certainly held in high regard by other classes, not all of them were quite so wealthy. The plots near the final stretch of the Bridge that led to the Dark District were naturally the least desirable – and it was here that Vatros stood, unassuming, near the Bridge itself. Ulysses only turned away from the Gilded Bridge to a street at the very last intersection, turning off to a rather plain cobblestone walk. Between the buildings one could get a glimpse of the ocean, and beyond it, the Dark District loomed like a dark, sad shadow.
They finally stopped at the door of a tall marble building. A relief of Ignacio was displayed proudly above the heavy oaken doors, but otherwise the building was near identical to the two that flanked it. Ulysses went up to the door, and pushed it open with his teke – a feat that seemed to take some effort. The doors creaked as they swung open, and Ulysses led Omar inside.
The moment they stepped in, they were greeted by the statue of Ignacio, standing proud in the very middle of the other end of the room. It was not a particularly big or impressive statue of the god, but it was still fairly accurate to the stories. Behind him, each in their own alcove, were the smaller effigies of each other Star. It was quiet in the Sanctum, as many of the patrons were either Labor Slaves, or had steady jobs with no allowance for a midday prayer. As such, only a single Helper was dutifully sweeping the floors, and one worshipper was standing quietly in Cascade’s alcove.
“Welcome to Vatros, Omar”, Ulysses smiled, turning himself to face the considerably larger horse. His expression conveyed a certain eagerness to answer any questions the slave might have – Ulysses would rather allow Omar to ask his own questions, rather than assume what a slave should or shouldn’t already know.
Word count: 540
Post #3
Ping: Moose-On-Ice
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jun 26, 2017 11:02:03 GMT -6
"This was the face of slavery. To have nothing, and still have something more to lose."
The beauty of the district was quite lost on the chestnut. Fancy, ornamental houses and buildings did not catch his eye, in fact, he found them nearly cringeworthy to look at. They were not the simple, functional things he remembered back in Onea. They were far too grand for his tastes.
He snorted lightly. Twelve years of living here and his mindset still hadn't changed. Even after being betrayed by Onea, he still preferred it to this grandeur. He cast a few stray glances at the wares the artisans around made. Nothing functional or useful, from what he could see. Even if he did find something useful, he couldn't buy it. No money, nothing to his name. Even the collar and bridle weren't his. (Not like he had wanted them after all.)
He scowled to himself, turning his gaze away from the wares they passed. He instead listened and watched his 'new master'. Some greetings here and there. He was obviously known. But if they were here, in the Artisan District, he couldn't be a noble... Unless he was out purchasing more goods. Kaia above, that would be boring to just follow around someone while shopping...
The change of scenery made Omar blink and look at the buildings again. Less ornamental, slowly becoming a bit more worn. Were they going to the end of the district? What business would Ulysses have there? His confusion grew some as they turned down an intersection. Was that the Dark District?
Aqua eyes flicked to Ulysses's back in silent confusion. This was... Unexpected to say the least. Finally stopping, he looked up at the building. This couldn't possibly be it. He thought he heard something about places like this... Couldn't quite remember the full piece. The creaking wood drew his interest, and he watched Ulysses open the heavy looking front doors. Asking himself to do it might have been easier then that.
Hooves clacking on the floor as he walked in, Omar blinked at the face to face view of the Aodhian's Patron God.
A shrine. That's what this was. Some sort of it. Quietly observing the helper before studying the alcoves behind the statue, Omar was quite certain of the location. The question now was, why?
"Welcome to Vatros, Omar."
He turned his head to look at Ulysses. Vatros. Again, he'd heard a little something about that. "Supposing Vatros is some sort of Aodhian praying place? What exactly are we doing here?" He asked gruffly, looking forward again. The small effigy of Kaia caught his eye, and he found himself watching it longer then he had liked. He had really not had a chance to properly pray to the Earth Mother since he left Onea. Only quiet things at night, whispered prayers, when he was alone.
"Better question," Omar turned away from the effigy, to face Ulysses. "what exactly did you think you were getting into, buying me? Can handle rough? I ain't found a single of you pampered, soft boned fire brats that's actually able to handle rough. Deidra was the closest I could find, and you see what happened with that. So tell me," he pinned his ears, stepping forward to loom over the smaller stallion, "What. Do. You. Intend. To. Do. With. Me."
543 Words; Post 3
Pinging: ThatDenver
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Post by ThatDenver on Jun 26, 2017 12:56:15 GMT -6
Ulysses
The gruff reply sounded frustrated to him – but it was speech, and that was certainly something he could work with. Silence was difficult, sometimes, because you couldn’t force someone to speak. Even if Omar didn’t sound too happy about the situation, at least there was a forum for resolving those issues.
“Yes, Vatros is a Sanctum. I suppose that a “praying place” more or less covers it, although Vatros does offer other services than merely opportunities to pray before the gods”, Ulysses replied calmly, and then nodded towards the stairs: “This is my home. I live on the third floor. I am the… I suppose “Flamen” does not mean anything to you, does it. Well. I am the… Priest here. I hold sermons and maintain the place.”
He noted that Omar seemed to be staring at Kaia, and wondered if he should allow the chestnut a moment alone. Then the mood suddenly changed, and not for the better. The draft had been somewhat moody before, but now he seemed almost dangerous, looming over Ulysses. It was at times like these that he realized how short he was – how thin and weak his legs were, how dainty his horn. For a moment, he was afraid, but then the fear was replaced by a mixture of fear and understanding. Ulysses’ mind was quick to jump in and assure the unicorn that Omar had every right to be angry, and that he should not expect every slave to be as easy as Ealyn had been.
“I know what I am getting into”, Ulysses said, not sounding quite as confident as he would have liked, but his voice did not hold any dishonesty or malice.
“I intend to do nothing with you”, he replied to the second question, smiling softly. He was regaining his confidence at the opportunity to explain his motives.
“I didn’t buy you with the intent of having a slave, Omar”, Ulysses told the large chestnut: “I paid the price so that you would not be sent to the Dark District.”
He shook his head, unhappy with his own words, and stepped away from Omar, towards the statue of Ignacio.
“It is easier to explain where we are – then I will answer your other question properly. Forgive me for being unclear”, the Flamen said gently.
“There are many Sanctums in Aodh. The other four are each beautiful in their way. Vatros is not beautiful as a structure, but as a purpose. This is a place of prayer, yes, but it is also a place of charity and sanctuary. A large number of our visitors are Labor Slaves, as they are allowed to stop here to pray. We help them were we can. We offer food, medical aid… The poor and destitute, the homeless, they all come here. Our doors are open to all who come in peace”, Ulysses explained, and then looked back at Omar, his eyes openly hopeful: “Please, let me show you around. We can take your bit off upstairs.”
Word count: 501
Post #4
Ping: Moose-On-Ice
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jun 29, 2017 10:15:18 GMT -6
The priest. He got bought by a fuckin' priest! Omar couldn't quite decide if this was better or worse then a noble. If he had to endure speeches and sermons about the 'glory of the fire lizard' he would kick over that damned statue and dance on it until it was pebbles! Omar snorted, listening to the unicorn speak. He was scared. Good. He should be. His brows furrowed at the second statement. Smiling? Lies. The final piece made his ears pin and take a step back with a rather vexed look on his face. He didn't buy him with the intent of having a slave? Wh... He meant he did it to save him of all things? He stood still, watching Ulysses step away. The aggression left his form, instead replaced with a loose confusion. He lowered his head some, ears half forward. Charity and sanctuary? The chestnut was quiet, mulling over this fact. The Labor Slaves were some of the few Omar pitied and was kind to, as he saw few caring about the overworked slaves. But this place was a place of safety for them? That explained why it was close to the Dark District... He studied Ulysses, searching for any trace of trickery or malice... But he found none. He slowly nodded a silent agreement, hesitantly walking forward.
Pinging: ThatDenverOOC: doing this on mobile, I'll edit the format when I'm at my computer! |
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Post by ThatDenver on Jul 1, 2017 16:49:51 GMT -6
ULYSSES
Omar seemed to calm somewhat at his words, which Ulysses took as a permission to show the big chestnut around. When the bigger stallion approached, the Flamen showed him the four small side rooms, explaining: “These we use for private consultations, but also for healing. And as you can see, we have effigies for each god here, even Alya.”
As he spoke, Ulysses nodded his head towards the statues. Ignacio’s was biggest, and its location most central, as was natural in Aodh, but each other god had their own corner, and judging by their altars, their own following. Some small art pieces were scattered about each of the small rooms, as well as the main room – many were quite pretty, but they were obviously not made by professionals.
“This art is donated to us by our visitors. Since it is hobbyist work, it has little monetary value, but it is something that others can remember you by regardless”, Ulysses said, righting one crooked painting with his teke, and then leading Omar up the stairs.
They arrived in a fairly open room. Along the sides were an assortment of small instruments and various artisan tools. There were some unfinished projects put on shelves, some of them obviously made by quite young individuals.
“This is our common room. This is where I hold classes, and some volunteers hold clubs which allow for creative and fun learning. For many poorer children, it is a moment of levity, and an opportunity to learn something new. That door leads to the Sanctum library – but let’s take your bit off now”, Ulysses explained the purpose of the room, and then shifted his attention to the bit. He unbuckled it from the bridle with careful skill, and slid it out carefully.
Word count: 294
Post #5
Ping: Moose-On-Ice
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jul 7, 2017 18:24:14 GMT -6
"This was the face of slavery. To have nothing, and still have something more to lose."
It was... Almost shocking for him to see and hear about a place that was... This calm and kind. It was unlike his past experiences with this herd. Just... Odd. His gaze flicked to the effigies again. He'd never known or looked for a place like this. It just never crossed his mind. He followed Ulysses to the stairs, hooves clicking lightly.
The sight of the common room made him pause. His instincts still told him that this couldn't be the truth, and that somehow it would turn on him. He half wanted to continue his aggression, continue his cycle, but, he stayed quiet. This could be a break, this could be the final loosening of the chain wrapped around his neck that would allow his escape.
Omar glanced at Ulysses, standing still and letting him remove the bit. Least that was a bit of relief on his mouth, with it no longer tugging on the corners of his mouth and pressing into his tongue. He shook his head after it was removed, the bell on his collar ringing and clinking loudly. A mumbled "thanks," left his mouth, and he straightened up, one ear flicking. Ulysses seemed kind. Omar considered telling him his past, before he was brought. None of the traders knew. Omar never told.
No. Revealing something like that could be dangerous. It could be used against him. Not now. Potentially not ever. "...What am I supposed to do here. You said you don't keep slaves just have them." Omar asked, slowly swishing his tail.
He couldn't see himself taking classes or workshops with the rest of them. Art wasn't his thing. But he couldn't be a religious leader either. That was just Apana shit. He was a warrior, and he doubted Ulysses would have anything that would fit him without squashing him into a mold meant for an Aodhian. Some parts fit, yes, considering it sounded like Labor slaves and poorer folk did these things, and he related to them more closely then the normal Aodhians.
OOC: Holy crap, my email didn't notify me, or I couldn't see through all the spam I was getting ;-; so sorry
339 Words; Post 5
Pinging: ThatDenver
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Post by ThatDenver on Jul 7, 2017 19:54:30 GMT -6
ULYSSES
Ulysses waited in silence as Omar seemed to adjust to the feeling of not having a bit. Judging by the corners of the bigger stallion’s mouth, the bit had been used a lot, and not very gently. It saddened him, but it wasn’t a surprise – Ealyn’s mouth had been just as bad when she arrived, and Ealyn was a small, petite creature, barely an adult. Omar was made of sturdy stuff, big and broad. Such an appearance could easily breed into fear, and fear often became violence.
He wondered in silence about the bell, about its purpose. It was most likely some sort of tool against escaping, but he had never seen one like it before. Ulysses also had a hard time imagining Omar sneaking off without anyone noticing – the stallion was the size of a small building.
The next question took him by surprise, he had to admit. He thought Omar would have asked more about the Sanctum, or him, but no. Maybe it was the years as a slave that made the chestnut so keen on determining why he was here. Ulysses hadn’t really lined anything up, of course – it had been more of a moment’s decision, although he had hoped to find a second slave to shelter here. Someone different from Ealyn.
He gathered his thoughts for a few additional seconds before speaking: “Well, I was hoping you could help me with the visitors. Sometimes we get horses so sick they can’t stand on their own legs. Other times people come here sad or drunk or plain angry, and start trouble. There are also slaves who find it easier to tell their problems to another in their position, rather than, well, a Flamen. You seem strong, so if you’d like, I’d love your help on bringing in produce for our soup kitchen, things like that.”
Ulysses nodded his head towards the stairs leading to the uppermost floor.
“I have another slave living with me already. Ealyn is her name – she is young and brilliant. When she came here, she couldn’t read and she was broken in body and soul. Now she studies chemistry and stars. It is beautiful”, he told Omar – his voice finding a melody as he spoke. The pride Ulysses felt over his young student was obvious in his eyes.
“So I imagine you could do whatever you find yourself to be passionate about, eventually”, he ended his speech.
Word count: 404
Post #6
Pinging Moose-On-Ice
OOC: Oh no worries! Email does that sometimes.
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Post by Moose-On-Ice on Jul 7, 2017 20:47:29 GMT -6
"This was the face of slavery. To have nothing, and still have something more to lose."
Bouncer of sorts, helping carry things, that all he could do. Listening to others problems... He hadn't exactly had practice with doing that with a good attitude. He'd only really been able to do somewhat well with that with his Úlfhéðnar... Even then he wasn't exactly the best 'therapist.' Usually dragging them to a bar and drinking with them while just listening to drunken rambles was about what he did. That and telling them to punch whoever might be causing problems. It usually had worked though. But that was the Úlfhéðnar. Not a labor slave or Aodhian.
But, he could handle the rest. Wasn't much different from what he already was doing. His gaze followed Ulysses' gesture. Another slave. Hm. Well, he clearly liked her. He briefly wondered what she was going to act like. Not stuck up, most likely from what Ulysses mentioned about her past. Better then the pampered servile slaves he had seen that flaunted their "pretty pet" status about with gold and jewels.
"Aodh doesn't exactly approve or allow me to do what I'm passionate about." He muttered lowly. Escape was very much a passion at this point. But he hadn't been able to properly train for years. Not like how he used to. They didn't have mountains over here that he could race his companions up, carrying weights on their backs. He huffed lightly. As much as he loathed how the pit slaves were considered "fighting dogs", they at least got the chance to fight and weren't frowned upon for training.
Omar exhaled heavily through his nose. "Used to be a raider, one of their warriors, in War-Forged. So painting and chemistry isn't exactly my type of thing. And so is the entirety of Aodh" He said, pinning his ears back a bit. Least he could tell Ulysses without letting too much out. Gave him a bit of an idea on what he used to do at least, might help some.
326 Words; Post 6
Pinging: ThatDenver
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Post by ThatDenver on Jul 10, 2017 15:59:38 GMT -6
ULYSSES
The comment about lack of approval made him smile slightly. That was not exactly a rare sentiment – many Labor Slaves had well hidden dreams about escape and violence. Ulysses knew those dreams could be dangerous, but at the same time, if that was what kept them alive, he wasn’t going to discourage them. It was a complex issue, that was for sure. He knew slaves were smuggled out of New Valore, he was fairly sure he even knew the faces of some who did it. Ulysses wanted to help slaves, wanted slavery to end, yet he couldn’t whole heartedly approve of this as a solution. It was a band aid. A reply to suffering of a single entity, but not the mass of souls stuck here. The stallion shook his head slightly, focusing his gaze back on Omar. Not the moment for deep thoughts.
The short explanation about Omar’s background explained a lot. Raiders were certainly famous enough here in Aodh as well, more so in legend and hearsay than actual fact, but still. Especially pit fighters often came from those types of backgrounds, which was not surprising. Saved the owner the trouble of training the slave, he supposed.
“I see”, he replied, smiling to himself slightly. The pinned ears didn’t exactly give off the friendliest vibe, but he had a feeling it wasn’t aimed so much at him, as at the entirety of Aodh. That, somehow, was much easier to deal with.
“Well, I’m sure you will be more than capable of discouraging drunken patrons from breaking anything, then”, Ulysses said in a jovial tone, before nodding towards the stairs again, and adding: “We should go greet Ealyn.”
As he led them up the stairs, the grey gave the collar another curious look.
“Is that thing a decoration, or does it serve a purpose? I noticed you haven’t used your teke, many slavers put the enchantment in the bit”, he questioned while opening the door on top of the stairs. It was another oaken door, but clearly not as heavy as the one they had entered from. It was locked, but the key turned easily. They stepped into the fairly open living room – bookshelves and various paper notes were the most distinct elements there besides the actual furniture, which seemed to be of good quality, but also old.
“This is where we live. That door there is my room, the middle one is Ealyn’s, and the one closest to the kitchen is currently empty – so that would be yours”, Ulysses went through the floor plan.
Word count: 426
Post #7
Pinging Moose-On-Ice
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