Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Arenma did not normally come to these sessions unless she thought it would benefit her. Often, it was the same thing day in and day out. She was not sure how Lithrae got through the monotony of her job. The slaves would enter, most would consign themselves to their fate while one or two would be made an example of. The whip would crack against their back until bloody lines seeped into their poor quality clothing. Some might even succumb to the pain and pass out. As far as she knew, death was less frequent here then it was at the Lurpeko. That, in itself, made this job boring. Arenma was here on personal business. She avoided being sent on city business to audit slave value. That was not her job and she hated doing it for Aurelia's lazy goons.

Arenma had arrived before the batch of slaves. She slipped in through the heavy doors to the minimally furnished room. Lithrae was seated in the chair in the center. Arenma had evaluated the situation to find that there was no place for her to sit. Figures. Lithrae was always thinking of herself and ways to make people uncomfortable. It may have unintentionally put her in a position, but Arenma knew that today it was geared to setting a tone for the slaves. Arenma moved to the back of the room where she sat herself on the stone floor against the roughly hewn walls.

The doors opened and in shuffled the group of slaves Lithrae would be breaking. The first four were just as Arenma expected imported slaves to look: disheveled, hopeless, and broken. The last two caused her to cock her head to one side. Her purple eyes flashed from the tall human adult to the younger looking human boy. Defiance radiated from their face. She smiled. It looked like Lithrae was going to get to have some fun today.

"Zer itxura triste duen taldea," Arenma called out to her sister. It was a way of making her presence known to the slaves. Arenma did not expect them to understand her. Grovokian was a hard language to understand if one did not know it from the moment they first started talking. These imports had probably never even heard it before passing through the Beldistorio.

"Zer planifikatzen duzu Lithrae?"

Arenma listened quietly while Lithrae went on about the batch. She was right, the Lothar could probably take some significant punishment. Argider, one of the current favored Lurpeko fighters and a personal interest of hers, shared heritage with this man before them. The question would come to light eventually if the two of them were pit against one another. Could this new Lothar take down one of the reigning favorites? It was hard to say. Maybe he had been an unarmed combat expert before being taken. Maybe, like most, he would impale himself on a stalagmite before succumbing to the requests of his female overseers. Arenma slowly stood up from her corner, moving forward with Lithrae as her sister went on to try and dominant the human boy.

There was something that pleased her about being a voyeur in these breaking ceremonies. The way that the noose slipped around a slaves neck and they slowly turned from pink to red to purple as the oxygen creeped out of their face. The meek slaves tried to shy away, but their shackles kept them from moving too far. The Lothar did nothing; he neither tried to flee or help the man next to him. Arenma could see that he was calculating what would be done to him with either decision.

The strange language piqued her curiosity. It was becoming more and more clear that she was going to need to learn the language of foreigners to be successful on all fronts. The slaves could talk with one another, and if she didn't know their language, then she would be incapable of knowing their plans in the Coliseum and the Lurpeko. They could throw fights without her knowledge; knowledge that would have been valuable to her purse. Arenma walked closer to the man while Lithrae attempted to make her a seat. The glob of mouth goo made her pause. She liked her person to be nice and clean. Spit wasn't clean, especially when it was from a slave.

Before she could react with some witty Grovokian comment, it seemed that the man's hatred was turned on her. For some reason, the wristlets had been draped with longer than normal chains. Not unusual with a slave population swelling. Normal chains may have been in short supply. The chain caught her and forced her to bow. His yank made her stumble forward so that the chain was no longer taut. While he moved his wrists in a way to loop the chain around her head, she slid an arm up to put it between the tightening chain and her neck. When he tightened, it simply pulled her wrist to her throat; however, it did not crunch down on her windpipe. Aren adjust her legs in a way to stabilize herself. This could her in a very provocative and vulnerable position. His legs were still weapons; a set he had not yet used. Arenma tilted her body so she could look up at the boy.

He was a clever human, that much was for sure. Warrick? That made no sense to her. Either way, he was leaving an impression on her wrist and her mind. "Lithrae gustatzen zait. Smart da eta espiritua du. Ezin al dugu mantendu?"

She bent her knees so she could crouch, alleviating the excess stress on her back. It was almost a necessary evil, kneeling to a slave. One she doubted he would soon let her forget. Amethyst eyes glided up to him as she put on the most seductive smile she could find. Whips and chains. That was a night of fun for her. "Dinner first."

With her wrist keeping her neck safe, Arenma dropped backwards out of her crouch. He was chained to her and her weight would pull him forward and down. In the tumble, she would press her foot up into his belly so they rolled like a perfect wheel. Soon, she was straddling his waist, still in his control with the chain around her neck. The best thing was the obvious: she was on top. As all women were in this city.

"War-rick," Arenma pronounced slowly over him, leaning forward inspect his face. Her black waves fell as a curtain around their faces. "Not know. Not care."

Arenma actually liked her position over the northerner. To have herself extrapolated from his chains was like being cock-blocked. The excitement of the situation went poof in an instant. The chains were removed from her neck and wrist in an instant as one of the slaves disentangled his arms. She lifted herself up and moved off of him while Warrick was dragged away to Lithrae's feet. Arenma rubbed her wrist before moving to the back of her neck. It would definitely bruise, but signs of a struggle meant that fun had been had. Arenma walked to her sister's right while they did so.

Arenma lowered herself into a crouch, settling on the heels of her boots. The Warrick boy seemed to be interested in communicating with them. The Biqaj was already showing that he could be useful. A linguist could prove to be useful to a great many Naer. He would be scooped up quick by a merchant. Arenma moved her eyes back to Warrick as he explained the brothels up north. So, even normal men sought the attention of women for a pretty nel. It figured. Men could easily be reduced to their basic needs: food, water, and desire. The egonkors were no different here. Slaves that had these carnal desires wished to be a Puta. Of course, the Naer taste was far more superior than the Northerners. Even those tree huggers in Desnind seemed to prefer dirt and bulk over an immaculate form. Arenma licked her lips as she turned back to Rafael.

"Zakarra izango zara nirekin?" Arenma's words would fall on deaf ears given the Grovokian, but she rolled her fingers to imply that the Biqaj should translate for her. "Dibertigarria izango litzateke."

Arenma slowly stood up, setting a hand on Lithrae's shoulder. It was usual for her to leave before the real endurance training began so that she was no in Lithrae's way. This was probably the right time for her to leave. She had seen all she needed to see. Three of them would submit easily. They would go to work for the city in some capacity. Of those three, the Biqaj would probably have the cushiest lifestyle. The Lothar was hard to gauge, but she suspected he would find a home in the Lurpeko. Fighting always seemed to boil the beast blood inside of them. Then there was Warrick; he was the one that entertained her the most. Already they had decided he would be joining them. He might look good in a maid's uniform while they trained him for the unarmed combat rings. Then she would make money and they would all be happy.

"Nire atsedena hartu dut. Ez hil ezazu, edo beste batzuk. Badakizu nola Odessa da." Arenma stated underneath her breath so the Biqaj couldn't hear to translate it. If he knew Grovokian, only the Immortals knew what other languages he could speak. She released her sister and headed for the door. A simple knock and the door opened from the outside. Arenma took a moment to look back at the restrained slave boy. With a wink, she exited the door and left him and his compatriots for her sister's entertainment.