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Re: A Wicked Age Undreamed Of
Half of the barbarian woman's brow raised at the mention of poisons, and she returned Jann's glance with similar sentiment in her expression. It was the way of cowards, as far as she was concerned; those who would lull you into a false sense of security with sweet words only to take advantage of you when your back was turned. Ironically enough, a Zamoran man had once tainted her drink at one of the taverns in her travels. It was only due to her Cimmerian constitution that she was able to fight him off without succumbing to the sleep-inducing effects. Hebeny's apparent use of such had Rylynn putting down a mental note or two...
When they arrived at the slave market, Ryl took in her surroundings. Her tan skin is no stranger to the blazing sun, and though there is a light sheen of sweat covering her, she isn't bothered by the exposure--not like the soft, pampered nobles fanning themselves even while cooled by the shade of the amphitheatre they sit in. Pushing her way past the crowd, Rylynn opts to enter the area for the common rabble, closest to the stage, so as to get a better look at who is selling. Incidentally, she can't help but catch an eyeful of the goods up for auction. One is a young girl... a virgin, no less. While her own childhood might not have been one of luxury and comfort, it certainly was not so awful as to involve the sale of her womanhood and freedom to some disgustingly rich and privileged slob. The very thought of it caused her blood to boil.
The bidding began. Ryl was quick to spot some men that she could guess as members of the Cold Brotherhood. It was no surprise that degenerates such as them would do as much. Then, she spotted an opposing wager, made by a portly, balding noble looking far too excited to ruin the poor lass's childhood. She overheard a familiar name--Oleska? That pig was the man she was technically working for?
As Oleska got exactly what he wanted--something he was no doubt used to--it only grew more and more difficult for Rylynn to hold in her bile. Somewhere deep inside, for whatever reason, she was overcome with the sudden urge to thrash these auctioneers and any future owners of the girl in question. If she had ever acted on that, yet done so with a perhaps less powerful body... then she wouldn't be terribly unlike the next girl on stage, who was presumably the last one's sister. It was still an odd feeling, watching the government bidders go silent. They had wallowed so long in luxury that they could afford to be just that picky.
But as strong as the temptation to lose focus was, Ryl ultimately would not. More importantly, it seemed as though the Cold Brotherhood was soon to win the next girl. Rylynn kept an eye on the black bearded man at the center of the branded cluster. When the time was right, she would eventually do her best to follow him. Perhaps he would have answers.
Half of the barbarian woman's brow raised at the mention of poisons, and she returned Jann's glance with similar sentiment in her expression. It was the way of cowards, as far as she was concerned; those who would lull you into a false sense of security with sweet words only to take advantage of you when your back was turned. Ironically enough, a Zamoran man had once tainted her drink at one of the taverns in her travels. It was only due to her Cimmerian constitution that she was able to fight him off without succumbing to the sleep-inducing effects. Hebeny's apparent use of such had Rylynn putting down a mental note or two...
When they arrived at the slave market, Ryl took in her surroundings. Her tan skin is no stranger to the blazing sun, and though there is a light sheen of sweat covering her, she isn't bothered by the exposure--not like the soft, pampered nobles fanning themselves even while cooled by the shade of the amphitheatre they sit in. Pushing her way past the crowd, Rylynn opts to enter the area for the common rabble, closest to the stage, so as to get a better look at who is selling. Incidentally, she can't help but catch an eyeful of the goods up for auction. One is a young girl... a virgin, no less. While her own childhood might not have been one of luxury and comfort, it certainly was not so awful as to involve the sale of her womanhood and freedom to some disgustingly rich and privileged slob. The very thought of it caused her blood to boil.
The bidding began. Ryl was quick to spot some men that she could guess as members of the Cold Brotherhood. It was no surprise that degenerates such as them would do as much. Then, she spotted an opposing wager, made by a portly, balding noble looking far too excited to ruin the poor lass's childhood. She overheard a familiar name--Oleska? That pig was the man she was technically working for?
As Oleska got exactly what he wanted--something he was no doubt used to--it only grew more and more difficult for Rylynn to hold in her bile. Somewhere deep inside, for whatever reason, she was overcome with the sudden urge to thrash these auctioneers and any future owners of the girl in question. If she had ever acted on that, yet done so with a perhaps less powerful body... then she wouldn't be terribly unlike the next girl on stage, who was presumably the last one's sister. It was still an odd feeling, watching the government bidders go silent. They had wallowed so long in luxury that they could afford to be just that picky.
But as strong as the temptation to lose focus was, Ryl ultimately would not. More importantly, it seemed as though the Cold Brotherhood was soon to win the next girl. Rylynn kept an eye on the black bearded man at the center of the branded cluster. When the time was right, she would eventually do her best to follow him. Perhaps he would have answers.