The Slave Trade (Open Thread)

[Morhin]

I know, But I can prove to be a challenge for you. "I hope not. If you beat me, then they might make you the Grand Warmaster." Morhin said as he squeezed then relaxed his hand. It hurt to move it but not as much as it had. I did not wrap it too tight, did I? Morhin drew his elven knife and held it out. He then began to spin in his grip and hold it at different angles. "No. You did well." He returned the blade back to it's sheave. "If I don't use it for the next few hours then it should be healed enough so as to not hinder me in a fight."

Morhin began to repack this medicines back into his bag. Though it was still several hours away, Morhin wanted to have all his gear packed and ready to go. He was also going over the plan in his mind again. "To make this work, I'm going to have to act like a slaver." He said. "I'll have to treat you like a slave. Do you think you can do handle that?" He was hesitant now to have Cyrith pose as a slave, even a bodyguard slave was still a slave. Morhin saw how a memory from the past had almost crippled him mentally, would Cyrith have a similar experience?

[Cyrith]

I hope not. If you beat me, then they might make you the Grand Warmaster.
"Well then, lucky for you, I do think I would ever be able to actually beat you in a fight," Cyrith said. Despite her pride, and stubborness, even she, knew where her limit stood when it came to battle skills.
No. You did well.Cyrith nodded. "Thanks," she said. She looked down at the floor and said nothing for a while until she said, "Do you think they have anything to eat downstairs?" Cyrith asked, realizeing that she was hungry.

I'll have to treat you like a slave. Do you think you can do handle that?
The real question how well she could act as a bodyguard. She was not one to think before she acted and had a bad tendency to say things she should not say. She'll really have to watch what she said, even though she did not like the thought. "As you had said before, a bodyguard is treated differently than those who live by hard labor. I do not think it be that bad. Anything is better than nearly working yourself to death and being slapped around for making a mistake," Cyrith said. "I was just a servant after all."

[Morhin]

Morhin nodded. He believed that Cyrith would do fine. Morhin returned all of his knives and blades to their place. It took him a little longer than usual because he wasn't using his right hand. He needed it fully healed for tonight.

Do you think they have anything to eat downstairs? Morhin looked up. He hadn't eaten anything since that morning and realized that he was very hungry. "Yes. The Old-timer should have something cooking." He laid his sword back down on top of his gear. He didn't need it now, and besides, he had plenty of other weapons with him.

Downstairs, Morhin found the old man sitting at one of the tables eating and talking to another older fellow. "Hey Old-timer. You think you could spar a moment to fix two more plates?" The old man jumped up and headed for the kitchen, saying as he went, "Of course, of course. I've got a plate set aside for you and the young lady. Had I know that you were hungry, I'd have sent it up to your room. But you don't tell anyone what your up too, Raw... I mean Morhin." He disappeared into the kitchen as Morhin sat down at another table. "Your father was the same way. Never told anyone what he was..." There was a loud clang from the kitchen. "You mangy cat! How many times have I told you to get out of my way!" Morhin just shook his head, and silently wondered if he'd ever see the old man again.

[Cyrith]

Yes. The Old-timer should have something cooking.
Cyrith nodded and Rawhide left the room. However, Cyrith only sat in the room for a moment after he had left and headed downstairs. She was actually growing tired of being in the room and wanted to leave it for a bit. If the old man was already cooking something, then it wouldn't be long before Rawhide returned with the food.

Cyrith opened the door and stepped out into the small hallway. It was quiet and she wondered if there was anyone else staying at the Inn. Cyrith slowing approached the top of the stairs, the floorboards creaking under her feet as she walked. She heard voices coming from downstairs, one apparently yelling at a cat that was in the way, which followed a loud crash she had heard before. That very cat came running up the stairs and ran right into her room, looking for a place to hide.

Ignoring the animal, Cyrith slowly headed down the stairs and looked around. It seemed obvious that the Inn was empty, for there was no one downstairs except for the old man who ran the place, Rawhide and some other man. Cyrith could smell food cooking in the kitchen, but she did not know what it was. She had not eaten since before she had arrived at the Inn. Her last bit to eat was at the previous Inn where she had bumped into Rawhide. Her stomach felt like an empty pit, which she was use to. She would not care what the old man served, food was food to her, even if she did not like how it tasted, it was better than going hungry.

[Morhin]

Morhin watched the cat run up the stairs and knowtest Cyrith. He motioned for her to come and join him. The Old timer came out of the kitchen caring two plates and two mugs, which he set on the table. "If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask. I am at your service." The old man bowed slightly to Cyrith as she approached and then left them to their meal. Morhin took his plate and began to eat. Despite all appearances, the old man knew how to cook. He took a long drink from his mug and smiled at Cyrith. "The Old Timer keeps very good ale."

Morhin finished his plate and asked the Old Timer for another. "I've been thinking about what kind of disguise you should wear." said Morhin as he finished his ale and set it down. "You say that you were born near Harad. I don't suppose you have any clothing that looks like you'd be from Harad do you?" The Old Timer returned with another plate and set it before Morhin. He had also brought another ale for them. "If I remember correctly, the Harad women wear veils over their faces. It may be a good idea to hide your face. Although it's not likely, someone may recognize you, or grow suspicious of you." Morhin began eating again. In between bites, he asked, "How are you with a throwing knife?"

[Cyrith]

Cyrith looked at Rawhide and he motioned for her to join him at the table. She walked over and sat down. She reached for the mug as soon as Old Timer set it down and took a sip. She was just as thirsty as she was hungry, for she had nothing to drink all day either. Cyrith was left surprised when the old man bowed to her. She found it very unnecessary, seeing how she was a poor woman and not one worth being bowed to.

The Old Timer keeps very good ale. Cyrith just smiled. Although she agreed, she did so silently. She looked at Rawhide for a moment, watching him as he ate and then she began to eat her own. She had to admit, the old man did cook a good meal. She could not reMember the last time she a nice meal.

I don't suppose you have any clothing that looks like you'd be from Harad do you?
Cyrith shook her head. "Not that I am aware of," she answered. "What clothes I have I just happen to pick up over time, most just think I am a Ranger. I will be honest, I actually do not know what the people of Near Harad wear. We were just provided with what ever they were willing to give us." She then continued to nibble at her food. She was not sure if she could finish all her meal, she had a pretty small stomach. Rawhide was another story. "I think you may have two stomachs," she said as he started to down a second plate.
Although it's not likely, someone may recognize you, or grow suspicious of you.
Cyrith shrugged. "I would doubt it," she said. She was not worried about being noticed by anyone. "If that were the case, I think someone would have recognized me by now." How are you with a throwing knife? Cyrith shook her head. "Not very good," she answered. "I have tried it before, but I found I have poor aim."

[Morhin]

Morhin shrugged. It wasn't that important that Cyrith dress as a Haradrim woman. That might of actually aroused more suspicion. I think you may have two stomachs. Morhin looked up from his plate at Cyrith and grinned. "No, its just an old habit. When I first came to Rhun, and then later when I was commanding solders as a Capatain, you never knew when you would get to eat again. So I always eat as much as I can."

I have tried it before, but I found I have poor aim. Morhin was disappointed, but didn't show it. "Thats ok. I was just weighing our strengths and weaknesses. I am very good with a throwing knife." He set down his fork and scratched the back of his his neck. Then without warning, pulled a knife that was hidden there and through it again the wall, less than an inch above the Old Timer's head. "Sorry," Morhin said as he resumed eating. "Reflexes." The old man just sighed and went back to his conversation with his friend. Morhin finished his second plate and then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "I'm going to sleep the last two hours we have. Wake me if anything happens."

[Cyrith]

You never knew when you would get to eat again. So I always eat as much as I can."I see," Cyrith said. It was the other way around for her. She made what ever little bit of food she was able to get her hands on last as long as possible. She never did know when she would be able to find food.

I am very good with a throwing knife. "Hmm..so I see," Cyrith said as she watched the knife fly across the room and into the wall, nearly missing Old Timer. Yet the old man was left unphased. He must have been use to these kind of things. Any other old person would have had a heart attack. Seeing Rawhide eat two whole plates of food made Cyrith feel more full than she really was. She nibbled the last bit that she could and pushed the plate off to the side and finished her ale.

I'm going to sleep the last two hours we have. Wake me if anything happens. Cyrith shrugged. "Okay," she simply said. She was not sure how she would kill the next two hours. She had already slept most of the day, recovering and did not need any more sleep.
She watched Rawhide sleep and found it odd that he thought leaning back in a chair was a comfortable place to sleep, or at least he made it look so. Cyrith then turned and looked at the wall for a while. It wasn't entertaining. She sighed out of boredom.

[Morhin]

Morhin didn't sleep very long. Partly because of his elven heritage, partly because almost as soon as he closed his eyes he began to have nightmares. He had had them before, usually right before he went into battle. In the dream, Morhin and Cyrith had just bought the girls when one of them suddenly stood up and screamed his name. She ran forward and wrapped her arms around him. When Morhin looked at her, he froze. It couldn't be, she was dead. But there she was, Mira, alive and holding on to him. Mira reached up and kissed Morhin, but as she did she let out a gash and became limp in his arms. A knife was sticking out of her back. "MIRA!" Morhin screamed. He drew his sword without thinking and attacked the first man he saw, cutting him in two. But the slave traders weren't alone, Morhin found himself surrounded by 30 Taytten, the enemy that Morhin hated most. They had already killed the slave girls and had pushed Cyrith into the center to stand beside Morhin. "I'm sorry to have dragged you into this." he said as he prepared himself to die. "So am I." Morhin caught something in Cyrith's voice and turned around in time to watch her run her sword through him.

Morhin woke up with a start as his feet fell off the table and slammed on the floor. Cyrith was just sitting at the table staring boardly at the wall. Morhin shook his head to clear it. It had only been a dream. He looked at Cyrith for a moment. It was only a dream. he repeated in his mind. Cyrith had turned when his feet hit the ground and was looking questioningly at him. Morhin saw that he had a little more left in his mug so he quickly drank it down. As he set the mug down, he locked eyes with Cyrith and asked, "Are you sure you want to help me? You're risking your life for a bunch of young slave girls you don't know and for a man you've know for less than two days."

[Cyrith]

Once Rawhide had hit the floor, Cyrith then turned around and looked down at him. Something must have startled him out of his sleep, or just had a very unpleasant dream. She almost laughed seeing him on the floor, but she managed to hold it back.

Cyrith raised an eyebrow. Rawhide's eyes were locked onto hers and she had not seen him this serious yet. Are you sure you want to help me? You're risking your life for a bunch of young slave girls you don't know and for a man you've know for less than two days. Cyrith shrugged. "You are the one who asked me to begin with," she answered. "Infact, you did not even know me for a couple of hours before you asked me for aid. And so I am risking my life, I'm not really worried about that." Cyrith did not have anything so to her, it did not really matter if she was killed or not. The thought of death did not frighten her.

Cyrith then wondered why the sudden change. It must have had something to do with Mira again. Rawhide had already pointed out that she reminded him of her. For some reason it made her mad. "I do not know why you are trying to get rid of me now, but I had already told you that I would help and I when I say I'll do something, I will do it. I care little of what happens to you but it is the girls I am concerned about. I do not know where they are going to end up, but I do know that it will be bad." Cyrith then stood up and said, "If this is about Mira again, I am not her so don't act like you have to send me away just because you fear something bad happening. You will learn to completely forget one day." Cyrith turned from the table and headed up the stairs and up to her room to get ready.

[Morhin]

Morhin sat at the table in silence as Cyrith left and headed upstairs to her room. Slowly and carefully, Morhin stuffed his pipe and lit it. He sat there and slowly puffed at his pipe, deep in thought. Two hours crept by and still Morhin did not move. He slowly raised his wounded hand and flexed it. It stung, but it felt strong enough to use. He knocked out his pipe and put it away before heading upstairs.

Morhin quickly gathered his gear and weapons. When he was ready, he turned to Cyrith and took a deep breath. "I want you to know something before we go. I feel very honored to have met you Cyrith. There aren't many people as honorable and true to their word with as cruel a history as you have." Morhin paused, bracing himself for what had to be said. "I am sorry that I questioned your word a while ago. It is not because you reminded me of Mira, but because ever since coming to Rhun, I have found that people are not always who they appear to be. Many times I have had my trust betrayed, and it has made it difficult for me to trust others. I... I hope you can forgive me." Morhin didn't know what else to say so he just wrapped his cloak around him stood by the door, waiting for Cyrith to say that she was ready, or that she wouldn't come after all.

[Cyrith]

When Rawhide walked into Cyrith's room, she was already dressed in the proper clothing, chain mail and all. She was sitting on the end on the bed, the cat the ran up to her room to hide before was now laying in her lap as Cyrith gently scratched behind it's ears. She paid no mind to Rawhide and he prepared as well, she only looked up when he spoke.

I feel very honored to have met you Cyrith. There aren't many people as honorable and true to their word with as cruel a history as you have.
Cyrith laughed. How he found honor in meeting her, she did not understand but she said nothing about that. "I may have grown up in a cruel world and most would think that one from that kind of environment would end up being cruel as well," Cyrith said. "I only appear that way because it is a to protect myself from others. I had people looking out for me while during my days in slaverly and I was taught many things and one was to never stoop to the level of those who have wronged you, for you will become no better than they are."
Many times I have had my trust betrayed, and it has made it difficult for me to trust others. I... I hope you can forgive me.
Cyrith lifted the cat from her lap and placed it onto the bed and stood up and collected her weapons. "There is nothing to forgive, Warmaster. When you have your trust betrayed, you cannot look at anyone the same way anymore, you are no different than I where it comes to trust." Cyrith walked over by the door and stood next to Rawhide. "Well, are we going or not?"

[Morhin]

Morhin nodded and headed back down stairs. Before he left, Morhin spoke to the Old Timer. "My friend, I need a favor. I need you to prepare beds and meals for about a dozen young girls. Also, I need you to sent a message to the Black Dragons, they are camped two days march west of here. Send someone you trust to head there and tell them that their Warmaster summons them." The old man made a fist and thumped it against his chest, the traditional salute among Rhun's solders. "As you command, Warmaster."

Morhin stepped outside and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark. After checking to make sure that his sword was hidden beneath his cloak, Morhin headed out. Just outside of town was a large barn that housed cattle and hay. Standing in the doorway were two men, hooded and cloaked. Morhin stopped just outside of ear range and whispered to Cyrith. "This is it. Don't forget, you are suppose to be my slave. Walk behind me, but visibly keep your weapons at hand." He smiled as he added, "After all, your suppose to be my body guard. Act like you view everything that moves a threat to your master."

Morhin took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself before stepping forward. One of the men no test him and drew a knife. "What's your business here?" He growled. "I'm here to buy a few things." Morhin answered calmly. "Wait here." The other man disappeared inside the barn. A moment latter, a third man appeared. The one Morhin had made the deal with. "My good sir, please come in. The... items are here, as promised. I hope..... who is that?" He said pointing at Cyrith. "That is my slave bodyguard. Why do you think I'm buying slaves? Women make the best bodyguards. Now lets see what you have to sell." Morhin pushed past the man, not giving him a chance to say no. Inside, Morhin counted at least half-a-dozen men standing by the windows and doors. Cyrith stepped up beside him. Just like a bodyguard. Morhin thought. Out loud he said, "Well, lets see what you have to sell."

[Cyrith]

Walk behind me, but visibly keep your weapons at hand. After all, your suppose to be my body guard. Act like you view everything that moves a threat to your master.
Cyrith nodded. "Okay," she said. It sounded easy enough. She did not have to do anything expect hang at his side and act protective of her pretend master. "And if anyone asks, my name is Gisela."

Cyrith waited for Rawhide to prepare himself, then she followed, closely behind him as ordered. Cyrith pondered over the girls. Being slaves, they were most likely to be scrawny and weak little things. They would fear her and Rawhide as much as they would the slavers. But in their fragile little minds, they too, were slavers. She then wondered what would become of the girls once they were free. (if all went well that is) It was very unlikely that they had any family alive and they would not be able to survive on their own. Cyrith shook her head, clearing her thoughts and focused on the task ahead. They would worry about the fate of the girls later, if they don't end up being killed.

One of the men pointed at her and asked, Who is that? Cyrith crossed her arms and sent a hard look at the man as Rawhide answered. He pushed past the man and she followed right behind Rawhide, sending another look at the man as she passed him. There were more men present then Cyrith had thought. It made her a little uneasy but she hid it well and still made herself look a like a threat. She was suppose to be a bodyguard after all and one always knew that a bodyguard could kill anyone that would cause harm to their master. She still thought this many men was overdone but then again, they were slavers, they liked to work that way. Cyrith looked at each man, with a glare in her eyes. They blocked every exit, clearly thinking that if the trade went bad, they were not going to allow anyone to escape. Typical. She knew their ways too well and she really disliked that.

[Morhin]

The head slaver nodded to another man who disappeared a moment, then reappeared dragging a line a dozen young girls all tied together. One tripped and received a kick from another guard. It was all Morhin could do not to kill the man right then and there. But he needed information first. He had to know the source. And until he learned, he must play along. But I promise you will die first when this is over Though Morhin bitterly.

This girls were probably 10 to 12 years old, and even in the poorly lit barn, Morhin could see that they were underfed and had many bruises and cuts on their arms and faces. "Well sir," The head slaver was saying, "Here are the girls as promised. What do you think?" He was smiling, obviously very pleased with himself. Morhin stepped closer to the girls as if to examine them. "These are the best you have?" Morhin said with as much disgust and distaste as he could. "They looked like starving animals. They're not what I'm looking for." Morhin turned and started for the door as if he meant to leave. "Wait my lord!" called the boss. "Please do not let there appearances fool you. They are only look underfed. But they work just fine. You just have to... persuade them and they work very hard."

Morhin turned around and looked at the girls with a very argent and disgusted look. Finally he sighed and pointed to Cyrith. "This is what I plan to turn these girls into. Deadly killers. All I would have to do to kill you would be to snap my fingers and Gisela would slit your through before you even heard the snap." Morhin was being very cocky, and was worried he may have overdone it. But the slave boss just smiled. "I have just the girl for you." He walked over and jerked one of the girls forward. She was at least 3 years older than the others and, despited being tied up, held her head high and defiant. "This girl is just the kind of girl your looking for. She has already killed two men. She should have been killed herself, but her red hair and green eyes make her a prize on the market." Morhin stared at the girl a moment, judging her. A smile came to his face, one that was not faked. "She is exactly the kind of girl I'm looking for. Don't you agree Gisela?"