The Slave Trade (Open Thread)

[Cyrith]

Since it was I who asked you to remove that snake from my gear which resulted in you getting bitten.
"That is not how I reMember it," Cyrith said. "You did not ask me to remove it, in fact, you panicked and screamed for me to remove it." Cyrith wanted to laugh and point fun at him, truly did. But she would wait a little until it was nearly forgotten. She was pretty decent at mocking certain animal sounds, perhaps she would get a thrill out of being a snake just to scare him again. "You are just lucky that I fear no beast."

If you have a better idea than posing a slave bodyguard, lets here it.
"A bodyguard?" Cyrith repeated and eyed Rawhide. "Why have you not said that before, you dolt?" She wanted to reach for one of the pillows and throw it at him out of annoyance. "A slave who is bodyguard is completely different then one is just a servant or general laborer. If you have been more specific, I would not have wasted my time on thinking. I care not much for thinking, it can make my head hurt."
Cyrith had figured that he chose that because he has now knew how tough she was and seen her skill in fighting. Cyrith settled back into the bed, hoping to get just a bit more rest. "I could do that," she said. "Pose as a bodyguard I mean."

[Morhin]

"I did not scream." Morhin said defensively. "I just... the snake just... surprised me, thats all!" augured Morhin, but he knew that she wasn't convinced. He hated snakes and didn't appreciate the fact that Cyrith seemed to find amusement in his fear. Morhin noted his bull-whip lying on the table and was tempted to pick it up and crack it. What are you afraid of Cyrith? he thought. But before his hand reached it Morhin realized that Cyrith was teasing him. It seemed as if some of her barriers to keep others away was being lowered a little. That meant that she trusted him, at least a little. He instead picked up his boot knife that lay beside the whip and returned it to his boot.

A bodyguard? Why have you not said that before, you dolt? If you have been more specific, I would not have wasted my time on thinking. I care not much for thinking, it can make my head hurt.
Now it was his turn to smile. "A dolt? That's not a very nice thing to say to the Grand Warmaster of Rhun." Morhin returned all of his knives and darts to their sheaves. "I don't care much of thinking either. But if one does not stop and think, one often overlooks the simplest of solutions."

Morhin already had all of his gear in order, but he didn't want to up on his armor just yet. Though it was made to be a comfortable as possible, Morhin never really liked wearing it. He wore a leather tunic over a ring-mail shirt. The tunic was just to hide the ring-mail shirt. His arms were protected by large gauntlets that housed several throwing knives and his dart shooter and his legs were protected by thin metal shin guards hidden in his tall riding boots. I could do that, Pose as a bodyguard I mean. Morhin looked up at Cyrith and smiled. "Good. Now if you'd like me to, I'll sharpen your sword and see about finding you some extra armor. Perhaps a chain mail shirt or a hard leather tunic."

[Cyrith]

I did not scream. I just... the snake just... surprised me, that’s all!
Cyrith laughed. It would seem that it really surprised him. Not being able to resist, Cyrith slowly and carefully stood up. She wobbled a little but she caught her balance, hopefully it will hold. Standing on the bed, she pretended that it were a soap box and that she stood in front of a crowd of people.
"People of Rhûn," she said. "You all know your Grand Warmaster." She pointed towards Rawhide and gestured as she spoke. "He fears no man, nor beast, but, what really terrifies him..are snakes," Cyrith snickered lightly, trying to hold back a laugh. "So any of you ever hear him screaming like a little girl, he is in the company of a snake."
Cyrith then laughed, not being able to hold it in any longer, nor could her balance hold any longer either. She fell sideways back down onto the bed and nearly fell off.

Good. Now if you'd like me to, I'll sharpen your sword and see about finding you some extra armor. Perhaps a chain mail shirt or a hard leather tunic.
"If you wish to sharpen it, you may do so," Cyrith said, giving him permission. "But I do not need any chain mail, I have some of my own. It is in my bag," Cyrith then pointed to her bag on the floor. "I just do not wear it all the time. Unfortunately, I regret not wearing it today."

[Morhin]

Morhin stared at Cyrith, dumbfounded. Her behavior surprised him. But it also made him smile, though he didn't know why. When she finally broke down and began laughing, Morhin found himself laughing along with her. When Cyrith lost her balance and fell, he could contain himself no longer and burst out laughing. Morhin laughed until he could no longer stand and fell back into his chair, tears coming down his eyes. How long ago had it been since he had laughed like that? Years. Why he hadn't laughed like that since... Morhin looked at Cyrith and suddenly became very still. "Mira?" His voice shook as he stared at Cyrith and a flood of memories came rushing back. Memories that he had buried and forgotten. Memories he never wanted to remember.

Finally Morhin shook himself out of his thoughts and realized that Cyrith was staring at him. He looked away to blink back the tears that stung his eyes. "You," He had to clear his thought to speak, "You said you wanted me to sharpen your sword. Where is it?" Morhin was staring right at it when he asked. He picked up the sword and forced a little chuckle out that sounded nothing like one. "Oh, here it is." He sat down with his back to Cyrith and began to sharpen the sword. But his hands began to shake and the sharping stone slipped from his grasp. Morhin looked at his hand and realized that he had cut himself, though he felt no pain, just a cold numbing through out his body. He blinked again, fighting back the tears. "Mira." He whispered.

[Cyrith]

Mira? Cyrith repeated in her mind. Who was Mira? She stared at Rawhide and he stared back at her. She could not understand the look on his face. He was obviously upset but why? Was this 'Mira' someone he once knew and had lost? Rawhide looked right at Cyrith when he said her name. Why? She was confused and something had upset him.

Cyrith climbed off the bed. She stood on her feet and held onto the bed post, looking for her balance. She was still waiting for her full strength to return. Cyrith slowly walked towards Rawhide, holding onto anything she could reach until she caught the back of Rawhide's chair. She looked down noticing the blood on his hand, he had cut himself with her blade. His shaking hands were the obvious reason.
"I will finish that," Cyrith said and took the blade from Rawhide and the sharpening stone. "You are upset and unable to continue. You will end up taking off your hand if you keep shaking like that." Cyrith sat down on the floor and leaned her back against the wall. She cleaned the sword of Rawhide's blood and continued to sharpen the blade on her own. She stayed silent for long time, listening to the sound of the stone against the blade. She glanced over at Rawhide at the corner of her eye. Although it was none of her business, she had to ask. "Who is Mira?"

[Morhin]

Morhin hardly heard Cyrith get up and take the sword away from him. He just sat there, staring at his bloody hand. Who is Mira? The question brought Morhin out of his thoughts and back to the present. He looked at Cyrith for a moment, trying to make up his mind as to who she was. He looked away. Cyrith looked so much like her, why hadn't he knowtist before? Because I didn't want to.

After a long time, Morhin finally spoke. It took great effort to speak and it pained him. "Mira was the woman I loved. I left my family when I was 18 years old and headed east, searching for my real father. Every day your the next four years was a test for survival. I could barely find enough food to keep me alive. I was always fighting. I fought against the weather, wild animals, but worst of all, bandits and thieves and murderers." Morhin glanced over at Cyrith again, as if he still was unsure of who she was. "Finally I could go on no longer. I was attacked by bandits, beaten, robed, and left for dead. I would have died had I not been found by... a girl. Her name was Mira. She brought me to her home and bandaged my wounds."

Morhin looked at his hand, it had stopped bleeding, but was stained with blood. "Even after my wounds healed, I didn't have the strength to travel. So I stayed with her and her family for several months. They taught me much about Rhun and the customs and ways of life." He paused again and took a deep breath. "Mira was so full of life. She was always laughing and singing. She loved to hear stories of the elves, and was so fascinated with my heritage." Morhin closed his eyes. "We use to lay on the grass at night and talk. She could always make me laugh until I couldn't breath. She made me feel... complete." Tears ran down Morhin's face.

[Cyrith]

Cyrith did wonder if this man understood what it was like to struggle out in the wild, trying to survive. But now, she did understand. She herself, was no better off than he was, fighting against everything to stay alive and no one took kindly to beggars. Until she aided by one who taught her how to survive. It seemed easy now, but it was only easy when you are to gather what was needed.

She could not show much for sympathy or any at all for that matter, over the fact that this woman called Mira, was someone that Rawhide once loved. She had no understanding, nor did she know what to say. "I see," was all she said. Cyrith loved no one…at least not in the way Rawhide had appeared to love this woman. She never had loved anyone and did not desire to. A man's constant company was not something that she wanted, she liked them not and didn't need one to hold control over her and order her around.

Cyrith was just about everything a woman should not be. From the way she dressed to the way she talked. Most saw her as vulgar, often because of her choice of words. She had a free mind and took orders from no one, and was stronger than a woman was suppose to be. None of that bothered Cyrith at all, in fact, she liked that way she was, except for the fact that her body was scarred to due much abuse she had endured in life and no man would look at her twice but Cyrith did not worry about it. She wanted to be alone and that was how she intended to live.

It seemed that the Warmaster had more of a heart than she did. Cyrith wondered if he had thought her heartless. She wasn't, she just hid her emotions. She set the sharpening stone on the floor and pressed the tip of her thumb against the edge of the blade, drawing blood. It was sharp enough. "Where is she now?" Cyrith asked, looking up at Rawhide and placed her thumb into her mouth, sucking the blood from it. Seeing the tears roll down his face, she was guessing that she had died. "And why did you stare at me when you said her name?" That had actually frightened her a little and she did not like it, thinking that was he mistaking her for Mira.

[Morhin]

Morhin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Where is she now? And why did you stare at me when you said her name? He turned to look at Cyrith. The rest of the memories were coming back now. "She was murdered." said Morhin, but the sadness and pain in his voice was replaced with a cold murderous tone. "I returned to her house one evening to find her house in flames and her family slaughtered. Judging by the tracks, 20 or so riders had ridden in and killed them. I could not find her body among her family so I went after the riders."

Morhin tightened his hands into fists. Blood began to flow again on his cut hand, but he didn't care. "I trailed them for three days, never stopping to rest or sleep. On the second day my horse came up lame and I was forced to follow on foot." He stopped. His next words were so soft that they could barely be heard. "I found her body, what was left of it." Morhin again had to close his eyes to keep the tears back. "I had thought that only orcs could defile a body so evilly."

"I nearly lost my mind. I wanted to die and be with her. So I down tracked those riders. They had a camp near where they had left her body." Morhin's hand began to drip blood he was squeezing it so tightly. "I walked right into there camp and began to slay them. I had no remorse, no pity. I just wanted them to die. I wanted to die!" He pounded his bloody fist on the table and for the first time felt pain in his hand. That brought Morhin back to the present. He shook his head to clear it.

"But I didn't die. I killed all those riders and left their bodies to rot. After that, I rode alone. I never let anyone get close to me again. I didn't want anyone to get close. Having someone close to you just means that you can lose them. I forced myself to forget her. I didn't want to remember her, or what had happened to her." Morhin looked at Cyrith. "When you made me laugh just now, I saw her again."

[Cyrith]

I had thought that only orcs could defile a body so evilly.
Cyrith made a face. She was very disgusted. She knew what Orcs could do to body but did not understand how a human being could commit such an act against another human being. She did not blame Rawhide for slaughtering them. This time and probably the first time in years, she felt sorry for someone. "I am sorry, Warmaster," she said, standing up and walked over to her belongings and placed her newly sharpened sword in it's sheath.

Having someone close to you just means that you can lose them.
Cyrith silently agreed. After her brother had died, she had pretty much closed her heart and dismissed all forms of trust. She was lonely in the beginning, and afraid when she was suddenly forced to fend for herself and had nearly no knowledge of survival. Now, she was smart in that field and completely welcomed loneliness, she was happy with it.

When you made me laugh just now, I saw her again.
"Oh," Cyrith replied. She now understood. It had seemed that she minded him of Mira and it bothered Rawhide. No matter. Once they were done dealing with the slave traders, she will disappear into the wild once again and live alone like she always did. "I will be gone soon, Warmaster," she said causally. "Then you will not have a walking reminder of someone that was lost."

Cyrith then picked up and cloth and some water that was left for her to drink but she did not touch it. She walked back over to Rawhide and pulled up another chair and sat in front of him. Fresh blood dripped from his hand from squeezing it out of anger. He was going to need both hands to fight the slave traders tonight. "Let me clean that," Cyrith offered, pointing to Rawhide's bloody hand.

[Morhin]

Morhin closed his eyes. The pain of losing her was still sharp, even after so many years. Had he couped with it earlier, maybe things would be different. But he hadn't couped with it. He had forced it from his mind and memory. Morhin felt tired, so tired. He didn't want to go on. Why didn't I die with her? He thought. Why am I still fighting? Every time I grow close to someone, they're killed, and it's my fault. I let them down. Why don't I just die?

Morhin became aware that his knife was lying on the table in front of him. A thought suddenly entered his mind. Why not just give up and die? Then he wouldn't fail again. Unconsciously, Morhin reached for the knife. As he did, a voice spoke out in his head. It was not your time to die. Not then, and not now. Morhin's hand dropped back down to his side. He knew that voice, though he had only heard it once in his live. You still fight because you won't given in to those who wrongly hurt others. You fight for those who cannot fight themselves. You fight, because you are one of the faithful. "Father." Morhin whispered. But the voice remained silent.

I am sorry, Warmaster. I will be gone soon, then you will not have a walking reminder of someone that was lost. Morhin looked at Cyrith but didn't say anything. He was still pondering his father's words when Cyrith pulled a chair up beside him and said. Let me clean that. Morhin just nodded. He didn't think that he could do anything himself at the moment. His hand stung, but strangely, he welcomed the pain. The pain cleared his head and reminded him that he wasn't dead. He was alive, and as long as he still drew breath, he must continue to live and fight. Finally, Morhin found the strength to speak. "Thank you, Cyrith."

[Cyrith]

Cyrith held Rawhide's wounded hand in her own and with the other, she dipped the cloth into the water and began to carefully and lightly clean the cut. Taking small light dabs, not wanting to cause it to bleed more and irritate it. She realized that he had cut himself worse than she had thought.
"Killing yourself will not solve anything," she said. "Selfishly taking your own life does not guarantee that you will be with her. People die, some sooner and more violently than others. You have to learn let go. I do not think she would want you to suffer like this." Cyrith wanted to kick herself for throwing in wisdom. She was not wise, nor one to give comfort to others.

Cyrith wondered if he was going to be about to push aside his emotional state and be able to fight the slave traders tonight. If he is emotionally unstable, he will get them all killed. She could fight on her own, but it would not gain them anything.

Thank you, Cyrith.
Cyrith looked up at Rawhide and raised an eyebrow. That was the first time he had addressed her by name and saw it to be strange. No one addressed her by her given name. That was only because she had always given an alias. She had not heard her name said in a long time and it felt a little weird to her. She herself, addressed no one by name unless she saw them as a friend, and no one was a friend to her so she just addressed folk by their rank or what ever title they went by, hence why she just called Rawhide, Warmaster.

"Your Elvish medicine will work faster and will be more effective than mine," Cyrith said as she stood up and went to grab the bag that Rawhide kept his herbs and medicine in then sat back down in the chair. Although Cyrith was a quick learner, she did not want to make any mistakes with any medical treatment that she was not familiar with. "What should I use?" she asked.

[Morhin]

Morhin's head was becoming more and more clear now. He pushed aside his feelings and memories and prepared himself for what was to come. Your Elvish medicine will work faster and will be more effective than mine. What should I use? Morhin looked at his cut hand a moment. It was a deep cut, but wasn't in real danger of infection just yet. He took the bag from her and began to lay different items on the table, explaining as he did so. "This bottle helps to relieve fever, and this one is for sores. The large bottle contains alcohol which I use to disinfect wounds." Morhin laded aside the pouch containing very small vials of different antidotes. The ones he had used on Cyrith's snake bite.

He pulled another pouch that was very carefully wrapped. "This contains what little 'Elvish' medicine I have. It is very strong stuff which I use only on the most serous of wounds. But for this small cut." He held out a flask full of very dark liquid. "This is what I would use. It contains wine, the most potent wine in Rhun." Slowly Morhin removed the cap and took a very small sip. The liquid burned his mouth and throat making him cough. "Dampen the cloth with this and then clean the wound. It will prevent any infection." He instructed Cyrith. A faint smile came to his face as he added. "It will also sting like pouring salty whiskey on a open wound."

[Cyrith]

Cyrith watched as Rawhide explained the different medicines and their uses to her. She did not see it before, but it was clear to see that about all the medicine he carried was of a liquid form. All Cyrith carried was herbs for they were easier to come by and she knew their uses. She had little knowledge of liquid medicine. Although they say it was better medicine.

As instructed, Cyrith poured some of the wine onto the cloth. The wine was strong indeed. It even smelled strong. She wrinkled her nose, giving away the obvious sign that she disliked the smell of it. Cyrith would have never actually thought of wine being for medical treatment.

It will also sting like pouring salty whiskey on a open wound.
For no reason at all, Cyrith let out a tiny laugh, but it quickly turned into a frown. She was mad at herself for that. But she had not laughed in years..well, at least not without sounding wicked.
Taking Rawhide's hand again, Cyrith began to carefully clean the cut. "Are you going to still be able to fight tonight?" she asked. "And I mean your emontional state, not your hand."

[Morhin]

Morhin winced and gritted his teeth as Cyrith began to clean his hand with the wine dipped rag. To say that it stung would be like calling a cut off arm a scratch. But Morhin refused to yell. Instead he welcomed the pain. His head was now clear and he was able to completely put aside his memories and feeling for the time being.

Are you going to still be able to fight tonight? And I mean your emotional state, not your hand. Cyrith had almost finished cleaning the wound and would be able to quickly wrap a bandage around it. "Yes. I can still fight." He looked at Cyrith and grinned slightly, "I could still beat you."

Morhin took a deep breath, gathering himself together and going over what need to be done in his mind. He and Cyrith would meet the slave traders, buy the girls, ask for more slaves, then get out of there. Seemed pretty straight forward, but Morhin had learned over time that the easier the plan sounded, the worse they were. What would likely happen is some sort of argument, started by the slavers, would erupt and they'd have to fight there way out.

[Cyrith]

Cyrith knew it was painful having the cut cleaned with this choice of medicine, for Rawhide winced. His hand shook at the first touch of the cloth so she held it more firmly, but not too tight. Although his medicines stung her when he used them on her, but she knew what real pain was and she was not very bothered by a mere stinging of medicine. The one she had to drink actually hurt more.

Yes. I can still fight. "Good," Cyirth said as she finished cleaning his wound and then began to wrap in a bandage. I could still beat you. She looked up at Rawhide and grinned back. "I know," she said. "But I can prove to be a challenge for you."
Although she did not actually like Rawhide, she did however like the fact that was willing to challenge her to a fight and was not the least bit ashamed about it. In her eyes, was what a real man should be like, not that it really mattered to her.
Once she had finished wrapping his cut, Cyrith asked, "I did not wrap it too tight, did I?" She wanted to be sure that she did not make to too where he would have a difficulty trying to hold his sword. She was not the best at treating wounds but she did the best that she could.