The Slave Trade (Open Thread)

[Cyrith]

Cyrith was relieved that the man put the whip away. She was still afraid of being whipped and when he had pulled it out and cracked it, she thought that that was coming. She kept back, watching as he wrapped his arm, covering up the cut left from her sword. She took a step back as he walked back into the stall, picking up the brush she had used previously and walked into another stall.

She said nothing in response to his words, but she listened as she continued to tack up her horse. The last thing Cyrith needed was for the slave traders to think she was traveling with him. She made a face at the thought. She traveled alone, always had and prefers to keep it that way. Everyone always stabbed each other in the back. You cannot really trust anyone. The only thing Cyrith feared was being found out. She reached up and caught the brush that the man tossed over back into her stall. No longer needing it, she put it back on the shelf.

As she finished adjusting the saddle, Cyrith glanced over at the man as he walked out of his stall, leading his horse and spoke to her once again. Still, she did not say anything in response, it was all useless to her. What money she had was what she stole from the old drunk back at the Inn and he barely had anything on him as it was. It was barely enough for some food. She turned and was about to say something when a small bag flew in her direction, her quick reflexes allowing her to catch it with a single hand. 'Coins?' She thought to herself. 'Why would he give me money?' Before she could question him, he had already rode out. Not sure what to think of it, Cyrith placed the coins in her bag. Although she still did not think she could actually trust him, she felt as if she had no other choice but to go to the Inn he spoke of. She had no where else to go and it was already dark and Cyrith knew that she would not be able to find a safe spot to lay down for the night. She waited several minutes before mounting her horse and rode out of the stable and heading for the Inn.

[Morhin]

Morhin patted his horse to quite her as he watched the woman ride out of the stables. "Well, no one came in to meet her, so she might really be an inocent bystandard. Let's go girl." Morhin whispered to his horse and headed out. He took the long way to the end, keeping an eye open for followers. Satisphed that he was not being followed, Morhin tuned and headed for the Inn.

Not the nices Inn in town, but one that had a good reputation. Few knew the fat, old, one eyed man that ran the places's name. He was just know as 'Old Timer'. Though he had served many many years in the Armies of Rhun, he was a kind hearted man. Most took him for an old fool, but Morhin knew otherwise. He was a sharp and quick whited as they came. He always knew what was going on it town, and in Rhun.

Morhin hid his horse in the ally beside the Inn and walked inside. Only two men sat eating dinner at one of the tables. They were older men, regulars here. One of the men called out. "Hey, Old Timer! You've got a guest." From the kichen came a crash of pans and a curse. "Well, he'll have to wait! Can't do every thing at once you know!" An old man with an aprond tyed around his fat belly walked out. He had a black leather eyepatch over his left eye and a short white beard. He instantly reconized Morhin. "Sam, your eyesight is going. Don't you reconize the Grand Warmaster of Rhun?" Morhin fround and said, "Not tonight, Old Timer. My name is Morhin." The one eyed man nodded knowenly and said, "Don't you worry, Sam and Bor are old freinds of mine. They won't give you away. But what can I do for you Morhin?" Morhin smiled, "A hot meal and a place to sleep where I won't get attacked, again." The old timer just laughed, "You are always getting into trouble arn't you lad. Well, have a seat and I'll see what we've got left." Morhin sat down and lit his pipe as the old man began to clang pots and pans and curse at the mangy cat that got in his way.

[Cyrith]

Cyrith's ride to the Inn and slow and a little difficult. It was dark and she couldn't see and she found it a little odd that that man could ride through the dark so easily. When finally did arrive at the Inn, she lead her horse to the stables and put him a stall and give him some feed. "It looks like we will be staying here the night, boy." She petted his nose briefly before leaving the stables and headed for the Inn. She stood at the door for a moment, almost as if though she were hesitating to go inside. It was quiet. Usually Inns were noisy and she could always here it even from outside. She took it as a good thing, but also a bad thing.
Cyrith sighed, putting the hood of her cloak over her head. She raised a hand and pushed open the door, just enough so that she could peak her head inside for a moment and then stepped inside, closing the door behind her. There was hardly anyone there except a couple of men at a table. She caught site of the man she saw earlier but acted as if she didn't know him. She kept her head down, looking at the floor and she walked over to the far end of the room and sat down at a table in a corner.

[Morhin]

'Old Timer' had came back with a plate of food and a mug of ale, which he set before Morhin before taking a seat himself. "Now, what big schema have you got going this time?" Old timer asked as Morhin took a bite. "The slave trade." He answered simply. Old timer frowned at him and asked, "The slave trade? Slaving has been part of Rhun's economy since the beginning of time. Slaves are those we conquered in battle. Why do you want to get rid of it?" Morhin looked at the old man with a hard face. "The Tatteyen and their slave trade." Old Timers one eye widened. Morhin continued. "There are slaves of Rhun, and then there are slaves from Rhun. Children of those who oppose the Tatteyen. They are taken from their parents and used to their parents from disobeying their orders." Old timers sighed and said, "The Tatteyen again. Morhin, Why are you always trying to get rid of them?" Taking a deep breath, Morhin told the Old man all about his mother and her enslavement, his father and his murder, and the incident with the Queen.

Old Timers slowly shook his head when Morhin finished and said, "Morhin, you will probably be the death of me. But I'm an old solder, and old solders like to go down fighting anyway. Any help you need, you can count on me. And on Bor and Sam too." The door suddenly opened and a figure walked inside. Morhin had not expected to see her again. But here she was. As Old Timer stood to see what he could get his new guest, Morhin whispered. "Give her the best, she may be of some help to me."

Morhin re-lit his pipe and picked up his mug before heading over to sit at a table right beside the woman's. After Old Timer had gone to the kitchen to get the woman her meal, Morhin spoke. "Well, I did not expect to see you again. But this is not necessarily a bad thing. Perhaps, after you've had a bite to eat, you can tell me who you are, and why you've come." Unlike back at the stables, Morhin's tone was not hard and threatening. It was almost kind. Morhin leaned back in his chair and puffed silently at his pipe.

[Cyrith]

Cyrith did not expect the man to approach her right away. She much rather prefered that he left her alone instead of trying to make it look like that they knew each other. She looked over at him and said nothing for a brief while. His tone may have been kinder than before, but Cyrith's glare however, still remained.
She turned her whole body around and just stared at him, as if though she had something to say, but instead, she suddenly snatched his pipe from him and threw it across the room. Knowing that she had his attention, she rested her hand firmly on the table and leaned over. "I will tell you nothing, unless you are able to prove to me that are indeed really are here to put an end to the slave trade and are not a slaver yourself," Cyrith whispered. "Your words are not good enough, anyone can give you their word and can easily turn against you, then you're cut down on the side of the road." Cyrith leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well come on now," she demanded. "Show me some proof."

[Morhin]

Morhin was stuned when the woman suddenly grabed his pipe and through it across the room. He was about to say something about it when she spoke, demanding for him to first prove that he wasn't a slaver. Morhin stared at the woman for a long time, trying to decide if he should reveil himself. Though the Old Timer knew who he was, Morhin doubted that she would believe him. Finaly, he came to a decision.

Morhin slowly stood up and removed his cloak. Underneath he wore a worn, tatered red tunic, popular among the solders of Rhun. His armor, though it looked like nothing special, had been specialy made for him. It was stronger than any armor the solders wore. But it was not his dress, but his weapons that set him apart. One his belt he had only a large, elven style knife, and a silver handled bull-whip. Morhin had never liked wearing jewlery, but there was one piece that he always carried, if seldom wore. Hanging by a gold chain around his neck was a large ring. He removed it from its chain and layed it before the girl.

"Though you may have no knowledge of it, this is my prof. Any solder of Rhun would reconice it instenly and salute me as a walked by. It is made of Mithril, probably the only mithril in Rhun aside from what the Queen wears. A gold dragon, with ruby eyes." He paused a moment then said in a voise that was full of command and power. "I am Rawhide, Grand Warmaster of Rhun. No better allie, no worse enemy will you find." He let the woman examine the ring before haning it again around his neck. After putting back on his cloak, Morhin picked up his pipe from the floor and sat down again. "Now, if you are satisfed, perhaps you will answer my question."

[Cyrith]

Cyrith rested her arm on the table and lightly tapped her fingernails, studying the man. His armor didn't prove much to her. Although, she knew of some slavers who wore armor to protect themself from attacks if any trade did not go well. She shunned away from the whip once again but did get a quick glace on the dagger that hung from his belt. The craftstyle of it's handle was not familiar to her. The only thing that really stuck out in her mind wa the ring he bore around his neck. Cyrith studied the craftmanship work on the ring. The finest work she had ever seen. I highly doubted any slaver could afford to have something like that crafted, nor would they really have any use for it, only to turn around and pawn it later because payment for good slaves was down. It was said that only the Queen bore jewels of such craftmanship and that she believed.

Cyrith raised an eyebrow and looked up at the man as he proudly declared who he was. 'You must feel damn proud of yourself', she thought with sarcasm. Although she had heard of the Grand Warmaster, she had never seen him or knew much about him. Only by overhearing talk of him in many inns. She did however, reMember a time when she had heard someone say that he hated slavery more than anything and had dealings with the Lady of Rhûn.

Cyrith leaned back in her chair and studied the man again. She was sure he had to be who he was, he bore too much pride and no one would ever dare try to impersonate the Grand Warmaster. She made up her mind. "Come," Cyrith simply said and headed for the door, gesturing for the man to follow.

[Morhin]

Morhin suddenly felt very unsure. He had just named himself and shown that he was indeed Rawhide, Grand Warmaster of Rhun. When the woman stood and simply said, "Come." Morhin felt that he had given himself away. That this woman was indeed with the Taytteen and that they were waiting for him right outside. He cursed to himself, Well, If the Taytteen are out there, I'm ready. I'm tired of fighting them anyway. Might as well die fighting then wait for them to assassignate me in my sleep.

Old Timer had watched to events in silence and now stepped forward to follow. But Morhin raised his hand. "No. Stay here." He commanded. With one hand on the hilt of his knife and the other on his bullwhip, Morhin followed the woman outside. The night was quite, but not unnaturaly so. Sounds could be heard coming from a neiboring inn and a dog barked at a passing drunk. Though he saw nothing out of the ordnary, Morhin could not yet make himself relax. He regarded the woman for a moment but remained silent. Well. Who are you and whats your game? Morhin thought to himself. Where are your friends? If this is an ambush. I swear that you'll be the first one to die.

[Cyrith]

Cyrith stepped outside the Inn and in the darkness of the night, the man following behind her. Even though it was very late at night and no one around outside, she still franticly looked around in all directions, just to be fully sure that there was no one around. Although the two men inside the Inn looked no more than regulars, they still could know people and she was not going to risk it if they had overheard anything.
Cyrith sat down under the window of the Inn where there was just enough light reflecting on the ground and she gestured for the man to sit as well. She unwrapped the strings to her arm guard and removed it, exposing her wrist, revealing a small tattooed mark on the skin, the mark of a slave. She held her wrist under the light so that he see the mark, but only for a couple of moments then quickly wrapped it back up. "You now know who I am, I do not think I need to explain in words."

[Morhin]

Morhin was still expecting an ambush until the woman removed her arm guard and showed him the mark she bore. Morhin took a good look that the mark. A slave? He thought. He studied her face a moment, looking for any signs of pain in her eyes. He saw grief, pain, and hatred, But also a strong will. Anyone could have put that mark on themselves to trap me. But no one could fake that look. Morhin nodded. "No, there is no need to explain." He stood and gestured back toward the door. "Let us go back inside. We can talk freely in there." He took a step toward the door and put his hand on the handle but stopped and said, "This will remain between you and me. But I would like to know your name."

Morhin walked back inside and nodded to the Old Timer. "A plate for my guest, if you please. And then, we have some important matters to discuss. I'd appreciated it if we could do so in privet." The Old Timer nodded to the two other men. "Don't worry Morhin, Sam and Bor will make sure nobody bothers you. Though we may be too old for active duty, We're still former solders of Rhun." He smiled and returned to the kitchen. Morhin sat down at a table in the far corner of the room and closed his eyes. He would wait until the woman had a proper meal before they discussed how she might be of help.

[Cyrith]

Cyrith watched at the man looked at the mark, then back in her, studying her face, knowing that he was searching for signs that told the truth. She was a little relieve by his words, taking it as a sign that he believed her. Cyirth did not pick up any hint of sympathy from the man's voice, which was fine by her, she did not want anyone's sympathy or pity.
She rose to her feet and followed the man back into the Inn. She eyed to two men inside. Although the man seemed to know the one he called 'Old Timer' well, it did not give Cyrith any belief to trust him. Of course, she did not really trust anyone after all.
"It better be just between us," Cyrith whispered harshly. "If anyone hears about any of this, I promise I will run my sword through you." She followed the man to another table, far off in a corner. She sat silently, looking at the man with his eyes closed. You best not be getting tired. Cyrith thought to herself and kicked him under the table, getting him to open his eyes. "It is Cyrith," she finally said, giving him her name.

[Morhin]

Morhin jumped and reached for his knife when the woman suddenly kicked him. But he returned it to it's sheive when she finally told him her name. "Cyrith." He said, thinking the name over. "Alright, Cyrith. If your as good with a sword as I hope you are, then I need your help. I am trying to buy some young slave girls for slave traders. They have already tryed to kill me once and take my money so I'm sure that they'll try again." He studied her a moment then desided to ask, "How much do you know about slavers? The girls that I buy our not going to trust me. To them, I'll just be their next master." He paused again, not sure how she would react to his idea. "If you posed as my slave." He said slowly. "Do you think that the girls would trust you more than me? If I wind up having to fight the slave traders, their going to eather round the girls up and escape, or their just going to kill them. If you can convence them to follow you, we might be able to save them all. I'm hoping that at least one of them may know the names of some slave leaders, or the location of their hideaways. But I can't do it alone." He stoped and reluctently said, "I need help. Otherwise all I'm going to acomplish is my death and the death of several slave girls."

[Cyrith]

Cyrith leaned back in her chair, taking in his every word. She probably could pose as a slave, but if Rhûn's system ran the same as in Near Harad, she would probably be too old. Older girls were sent away, but only if they fit the right appearance. Perhaps the slavers in Rhûn wouldn't think the same of her face than the ones of Near Harad. Hoped, more of less. She then wondered how old these girls were.
"Well, the one making the purchase usually is the new master," Cyrith said. "However, I think I could probaby gain the trust of the girls. They may feel some sort of comfort having an older girl around." She rested her arms on the table and asked, "How does the slave system run out here in Rhûn anyway?" Cyrith wanted to learn as much of the details as she could, having lived through it all her life, she probably could figure out a few things out from inside the system.

[Morhin]

Morhin though a moment, "I don't know." He said at last. "These are not regualar slavers. These are Tatteyen. They steal children of parents that have opposed them, or of lords to make an example of what might happen if they don't support them. My guess is that they sell them to anyone who will buy them. Boys are eather do hard manual labor, or our trained as privet solders. Girls." He trailed off. "They reamain alive as long as they are of some use."

Morhin looked Cyrith up and down. She did have a certain beauty to her. But she looked more like a fighter than a concubine. Of course, it was not uncommon in Rhun for women to act as bodygaurds. Sometimes, they made the best bodygaurds. "I beilve that the girls are between the ages of 10 and 12, with one 14year old." Morhin said. "That is about all I know." He paused, as if remebering something Cyrith had said. "You are not from Rhun?" he asked. "Do you know who the Tatteyen are?" It would be an important thing for her to know if she was to help him.

[Cyrith]

"No, I am not from Rhûn," Cyrith answered. "But I have dwelled here for several years and yes, I do know who the Tatteyen are." Although she was not familiar with the slave they ran their slave trade. She was not even familiar with it the land of Rhûn either, but having the Tatteyen involved, it could be the same, but it also could not.
Cyrith turned and stared at the wall briefly. These girls were young but she was still worried. It was all physical labor at that age but their fate could change when they are older. "It is similiar to the trade in Near Harad," Cyrith finally said. "However, they were always able to find a use for everyone.."