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Thread: [M] Across Antiquity (IC)

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    Default [M] Across Antiquity (IC)

    Ruilira, Ruiliran Empire

    ~Two Days Before the Ceremony~

    “Grand Ruilira” a weathered man no older than forty murmured as he wiped the sweat from his brow. It had been so long since he had been in the birthplace of the most glorious empire in the world and the cultural birthplace of his people. Having traveling in the edge of the Known World in the great, gelid north had dulled his near-tropical proclivities. Living alongside subdued barbarian tribes and battling many more had changed him, more so than any campaign in the sun-baked deserts of Ham had. It would take him some time to readjust to the land of his people.

    Yet, the heat troubled only his body, for his mind recalled the great victories on the Ruiliran soldier had the honor of being apart of. He remembered the spoils of war, the pungence of blood and defecation as slain men lost control of all bodily functions. The brutal slaughter of all those fit to carry a sword and the ravaging or subsequent enslavement of those unable to. He had witnessed the mythical stories of pale-skinned warriors in the furs of bears astride the backs of hairy elephantine beasts and stout, hairy horses no bigger than a domestic ass. Above that, he had witnessed the creatures of legend greater than any single putrid race of man, like the bulky, stout men-like creatures which dwelled within the caverns of the north and the fiery wyrms that no shepherd dared pursue when it happened upon a herd of cattle or sheep.

    Of course, there was also the creature he had managed to trap himself. A goliath being that made him harken back to the cyclops of yore, that were said to inhabit the ancient mountains of Ruilira before the dominance of man. Though this creature was far more primordial. The man had likened the beast itself to that of a chimera of sorts, blessed with the visage of a man with all the grace of an elephant and the intellect of a jackass. A creature that no man on board had managed to silence, not even with the whips crafted from the hides of hippopotamus or wild ox.

    The man had also played back the capture of the giant himself. The northern savages had ancient techniques for hunting the great mountain giants and the traps and actions that had brought the brute to heel made for a fascinating sight. That is something he had to concede to the northern savages, they were quite skilled at everything they did. Though being skilled alone was no match for the unalienable superiority of the civilized man and the Ruilirans in particular. The land conquered would go on to be incorporated into the great empire, the degenerate gods the northmen swore by suppressed and the culture of Ruilira thrust upon them.

    Eagerly the Ruiliran walked below the deck of the massive cargo galley to look upon his foreign victories. Passing by the rowing men, lowest of Ruiliran men above slaves, the man entered a room situated near the stern full of an uncountable number of slaves. Northern barbarians are many different tribes, few even collected from the tribes of the northwest and east with slightly different physical features and tattoos. The smell was even worse than the stench of the battlefield as men, women and children were forced to stew in their own waste: blood, urine, feces, vomit and menstruation fluid. Bound in manacles, they wrestled for space having been stacked on top of one another, elbow-to-elbow.

    Away from the tightly packed human cargo was the giant. His arms bound in thick manacles forged with what the natives had called dragonsteel. The beast itself had a rugged exterior, a thick brown mane connected to a prominent beard. On its torso was what he would hardly hesitate to call clothes, crudely sewn from the pelt of a hairy behemoth, perhaps a rhinoceros or cave bear. Unlike the human slaves who were stripped naked, no man dared to get close enough to the creature to try and move it regardless of its incarcerated state.

    The giant himself opened his eyes, upon the strangely dressed human that it had encountered before. He too replayed the memories of the north, how the wicked northmen had set traps for him. How the whip-bearing tan-skinned men had tried to break his spirit but to no avail. Admittedly he had been captured before, but this was the first time he had even sailed across the great waters in a great raft different from the ones that northmen used. These weren't northmen, perhaps these beasts in all their cruelty weren't men, but demons not unlike the ones in the tales of his youth.

    His heart bled at the thought of his long scattered people. In truth he remembered less and less about them as the decades went on, but the one of the one that would remain with him until death. When the elder giants gathered for the coronation of names, a tradition lost with them and the then young giant would receive his name, Ulgar. A name he would keep with him in the darkest times of his life. Even now on this demonic craft and beyond, he would keep his name, no matter what would be laid out for him in the future. “I am Ulgar of the Mountains” he mumbled to himself in his archaic tongue of giants “And no man shall break me…"

    The galley docked in the Port of Nethuns, where his twin demi-god sons watched over the city in magnificent marble. The giant looking upon his former north adversaries as they were dragged off began to plot a means of escape, though the elaborate actions of these tan-men, these foreign demons in the shape of men had made much difficult. Whereas iron was a gift of men in the north to be used sparingly, these creatures used iron like the dwarves. By the time every last waste-covered man, woman and child had been removed from the massive rowing ship, the giant had exhausted every futile plan in his mind.

    When the man behind his fall had returned, he had in his company another man, one wrapped in tapestries too grand for any northmen to wear. Briefly they gawked in their tongue, of which Ulgar had only picked up a few words of, nothing to fluently communicate with. Soon more tan-men arrived and struggled to subdue the giant, who bound in dragonsteel, still put up a fight unlike no human slave they had ever seen. Eventually however, Ulgar lost the ability to fight the man-like beasts and struggled to fight against exhaustion. The lack of sufficient food and water having worn his stamina, which he had reserved for this inevitable moment. Yet he would be overcome once again and successfully dragged out of the galley by a team of five.

    “Overcome, but not broken…”

  2. #2
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    The stench coming from the slave ship was simply a fact of life to most of the Ruilirans at the harbor, but was nigh unbearable to the royal Aaryan retinue preparing to disembark at about the same time. Princess Suriya looked down from the side of their ship as a ‘fresh’ shipment of slaves was led out of the slave vessel, each smelling of every kind of foul excrement imaginable and barely healthy enough to be passable at a slave market. The very idea was abhorrent in more ways than one, and Suriya was already contemplating ways to free the slaves and bring Mitra’s justice down upon the slave traders. Her bow and quiver were stored in her cabin; a good hiding spot and a few well-placed shots just might do it...

    “Leave it be, Suriya.” Her father warned sternly. High King Atroxes did not fail to notice the slave ship or Suriya’s reaction to it, and was himself carefully controlling his own composure. “Remember, we are honored guests in this land.”

    The implications of the High King’s statement were obvious. The upcoming wedding was to be a grand day for Kem and Ruilira, but was more of a diplomatic exercise for the visiting foreign dignitaries, as any perceived slight could lead to a diplomatic disaster.

    “Of course, Father.” Suriya curtsied, reassuring the High King enough for him to leave her side. Suriya, meanwhile, spared one more look at the slave ship before retreating into her cabin. She couldn’t attack the slavers openly, but there was more than one way to fight back.



    By the time they disembarked, Suriya had taken the time to put on her finest robes and jewelry and apply just the right makeup to compliment her looks, and it was easy to convince the other females aboard the ship to do the same. After all, they were honored guests just like the High King had said, so keeping up appearances was a must. Few men at the harbor could resist sparing at least one look at the parade of Aaryan beauties trailing behind the High King, and though the slave traders struggled to concentrate on their work, the sight and smell of beautiful perfumed women in colorful finery was infinitely more attractive than that of slaves who’d been left to stew in human waste for who knows how long, especially to sailors who undoubtedly hadn’t seen a proper woman in a long time. With a smile here and a demure glance there, Suriya was able to further distract all but the most staunchly professional of the slave traders, creating the perfect opportunity for at least some slaves to quickly escape while the men were distracted. Best of all, no one could ever suspect a thing; if anything, they would be far more likely to blame any escapes on the slave traders’ own incompetence.

    Then out came a massive hulk of a giant, dragged out in chains by a team of five. The giant’s strong will was plain to see on his face, and the Aaryan retinue drew back and whispered in fear amongst themselves. The slave traders hauling the giant along would be much more difficult to distract; no amount of attractive women could sway a man in genuine fear for his life, as most of the men dragging the giant clearly were. Still, if she could just think of something, this could be just the kind of opportunity Suriya was looking for.
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  3. #3
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    ~Two and a half days before the ceremony~

    Beneath the Minos villa the loud pleasure filled screams of a woman filled the slave quarters. The Minos family has many slaves, workers, maids, farmers, and a single gladiator. Kept in the last room with a view looking out into the training yard. Inside the large room it looked more like the habitat of some animal at a zoo. The whole room was built along three terraces of stone scattered around the area were cushions, blankets, and a menagerie of training apparatus. From weights to a full tree made for swinging and acrobatics.

    Atop the highest tier two bodies were writhing together tangled up in thick fur blankets. The man was largely built and atop the woman, and she was as dark-skinned as the man, but built like a courtesan. Smooth curvy body, fine but not overly huge assets, her hair was long and spread out beneath her like another blanket. Sweat covered her body and her limbs were barely clinging to the man's heavy body. Her eyes were glazed and her head was lolling back. She looked as exhausted as she did pleased, but the man was a growling beast. Constant movement, power, and speed mixed with high endurance meant the man would go until he couldn't anymore. But after an hour even he was covered in sweat, and with a huge yell he pinned the woman down and bred her like the brood mare she was meant to be. Their cries echoed around the cellars no doubt disturbing the rest of the slaves in the Minos villa.

    Soon the wild screams ended and were replaced by exhausted pants and pleased coos from the woman. The pair didn't speak any civilized language they communicated with strange clicks and grunts. They talked like that for a few minutes before the woman, finally overcome by exhaustion fell back into the blankets her naked chest heaving softly with sleep. The man, Isilo rolled from his newest mate and pulled on a cleanish loincloth. Standing slowly up the gladiator sauntered over to a small shelf near the door and picked up a clay pitcher and lifted the lip to mouth and poured the sharp red wine inside down his throat. He emptied the pitcher in seconds and smashed it into a pile of rubble nearby. Rubbing his eyes the warrior moved to the front of his cell gazing out at the moonlit landscape. How many nights did he spend like this? Fucking some doe-eyed she-slave they pulled off the boat and cleaned up to be be brought to him for breeding. It was a cheap way to spend your first night in the "civilized world", but at least he insured the many broodmares he's had were at least satisfied before they were sold to some flabby stomached noble to spend the rest of her life on her back with him between her legs or the noble's sons. Maybe he'd see her again someday it wasn't often he got a woman from his homeland, he missed the humid jungles and the wild rainstorms that were like a mother's lullaby to him.

    Even being a slave in his own homeland for his youngest years, he missed it dearly. A cold breeze rushed through his cell and made hims shiver his burly body erupting in goosebumps. With a low growl the Beast shuffled back to his mate for the night pulling the loincloth off and covering them both with a bear fur blanket. He kissed her head gently and whispered one of the few phrases in their shared language "Ubusuku obuhle owesifazane wami." Before he enclosed he in his arms and fell to sleep himself.


    Ruilira, Ruiliran Empire

    ~Two Days Before the Ceremony~


    Grunting under the heavy weight of a supply crate Isilo's head was bowed low and his muscled bulged under his duty, but like any other beast of burden he simply grunted and kept moving wondering when his shift would be over. Normally he was never taken out his cell unless he was being trained or his Masters had lined up a fight for him.

    But with so many dignitaries coming for the wedding of Crown Prince of Ruilira and the Princess of Kem his masters sent him to the rival kingdom for some cheap labor. This was the first time he'd ever been to Ruilira, and all he had seen so far were these stinking docks and the backroom of some moldy tavern he was staying in. The Minos guards were intent on keeping close tabs on their Lord's most prized slave. Standing on the upper boardwalk they stared down at the primitive man sneering at his grunts and sweat. Isilo wished he had the ability to escape, but slavery and killing is all he knew, plus his master would never let him go without a fight. With a sigh he dropped the heavy crate onto the dock just as the newest slave ship began unloading. It was a sight he'd seen from afar a number of times, he could overlook the Docks from his training yard, but it was only combatants and women he'd seen up close. These people were filthy and many looked like they had broken spirits, though the line of Aaryan travelers did give a nice change of scenery the young woman closest to the High King was a particular beauty, but what trapped Isilo's attention wasn't the virginal beauties from Aarya, but the behemoth being dragged forward bound in what looked like boat chains. The Giants of the far north were nearly as fabled as Dragons or Griffins, Isilo had heard about these beasts and their might. He often wished to face on in the arena, but no man brave enough or foolish enough to capture one would ever waste it in the Arena. They were always the frontline fighters for that man's army, starved, beaten, and reduced to nothing more than slavering monsters meant to destroy as much of the enemy as possible before falling.

    The Gladiator growled watching the giant pass locking eyes with him before the harsh whip of the Dock Master made him return to work.


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  4. #4
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    Janus was sat by the edge. Hand-me-down boots a size two big dangled over the side of the building and kicked back and forth to a quietly hummed tune. It was a well picked roof. Well picked, and well used. Sage and Janus has used it as their usual spot for at least three or so years now. It was just ever so slightly sloped, the red sun scorched tiles large enough to make for rather comfortable make-shift seats. Janny had chosen it originally. She enjoyed watching over the hustling and bustlings of the docks. The height rather diminished the ever present lingering 'scent' of the area too, so that was a rather nice added bonus.

    The team would place themselves upon this favourite roof top every other day or so, to go through and check, restock where necessary and share out their equipment. All of their weaponry and tools lay spread out around them, like some sort of deadly halo. Sage was busy feathering their arrows, while Janny made some headway with the whetstone. He quite liked this aspect to their profession. That's not saying he hated and despised the rest of it mind you. But Sage simply found that there was a lovely sense of peace and harmony gained through the simple actions of organisation and quiet consideration.

    "Hey Dad!"

    Oh well.

    Sage mumbled a vague "Mhmmm" in response.

    "You didn't answer me before."

    "What did you ask?"

    "Well, do you think we'll actually get any business like, with this whole wedding and that?"


    The man looked up from his task, eyes drifting casually over towards the horizon, but not really taking any of it in.

    "Dunno. When they're on this scale it's a bit weird really. Cause like, of course for us, it's the perfect time to go around murdering, and killing and whatnot, cause everyone who's here, is here and all that. But then on the other hand, it's really not the perfect time. Because the problem is, it'd be really spectacularly alarmingly blatantly obvious if we did any of the stuff we usually do."

    Sage sniffed, spat and then sighed.

    "So in answer to your question Junior, who the fuck knows honestly. I'll ask around and that like, see what's going on. But yeah, could go either way."

    Janny nodded.

    "Fair dos."

    Much to Sage's delight, they continued in a merry silence again for a time. He'd managed to make his way fully onto shining the pommels before she piped up again (incidentally, Jan was still on her knives).

    "They look a fancy bunch,"


    She didn't follow with any words of context so Sage was (regretfully) forced to look up to see what had caught her eye. He followed her gaze over to a newly docked ship, and indeed, it was a rather grand one. Regal even. Both Father and Daughter Sage's were quite worldly (in a literal sense at least), so the ship was easily recognisable to them as an Aaryan one. However, Sage had never seen a ship quite on this scale before. Eyes squinted against the glowing sun to try and take in the vessel in all it's glory.

    And then, it was spotted. Janus shot up to her feet with a gasp while Sage remained seated in stone still perplexity.

    "HOLY SHIT! That's a King Sage! That's a bloody King!"

    It was a common misconception that the life of a assassin/general baddun was filled to the brim with everyday exotic adventures and encounters with spectacular people of every which way and variety. Yet that really wasn't the case. Truth be told, it was a hard-working laborious job, just as common as any else. So the golden glint of a crown (Jan was guessing it was a crown anyway) was in fact, an indisputable marvel. And just to add sugar to the porridge, not only was there just simply a King, but it seemed there was an entire entourage too. Amidst the Northern Barbies with their labyrinthine tattoos, and the multitude of slaves and slavers alike, the Aaryan's stood out like a sore thumb in the Ruilira docks. Absolutely all eyes were on them.

    The Sage's watched them too of course. Once again in total silence. Though this quiet was a unified one, a cohesive hush of complete concentration and absorption. Sage automatically began counting their numbers and estimating their strengths and intent as a group. His eye was an analytical one, seeking out the practicalities and pragmatics of this new player to the game. Janny's was also similarly empirical, perhaps instinctively so. Although, she couldn't keep her eye from wandering completely (And neither could the entirety of the sexually active population of people on the dock at that time it would seem).

    Initially, she simply guessed the woman was a Princess, or at least something of a similar ilk. She just had that sort of air about her. But as the woman in question grew slightly closer, Janny's assumptions were confirmed. She wore clothes in colours that Jan never even knew they could be. Their jewellery was made from gems and stones she had only ever heard about, and the whole lot of them simply moved with such a elegance, Jan couldn't quite believe them to be real for a while. She was completely enraptured in a mixture of disbelief and astonishment.

    "Look there Janus,"

    Her mind was promptly pulled from drifting too far away by an all to familiar tone. Sage was pointing to the woman she had already been looking at, The assumed Princess. But more specifically, he was pointing to where the Princesses gaze was lingering. Janny picked it up of course. She wasn't her fathers daughter for nothing after all. It was the regular twitch of a hand resting by the hip, the inability to remain still that gave the game away. The Princess was uneasy, but more specifically she was yearning. This was a woman that wanted to fight.

    Janus looked back over her shoulder,

    "But who?"

    Sage shrugged.

    "I'm gonna say..."

    He hesitated for a moment or so, mouth pursed in a thoughtful frown as he considered the apparent multitude of possibilities.

    "Slavers. Or maybe bounty hunters I'd reckon. See, I Bet you she's one of these righteous royals. Ever eager for a chance to save the day, but only when it suits them best and that."

    He nodded his head, seemingly content with his own estimation. Then he spat again for good measure.

    "Bloody hypocrites if you ask me. If they get so worked up about it, shouldn't have let it get this shitty in the first place should they. Bloody Toffs..."

    Effing and jeffing under his breath, Sage senior began to gather up their things. Janus simply sighed, quite wistfully, and took one last look out towards the Aaryan ship. A small hopeful dreamy sort of small bloomed pleasantly across her face as she thought quietly to herself.

    "... I think it'd be fun if we actually ended up at the wedding or something. Could be a right laugh at the very least. That and we could get all dressed up, and maybe you could even bathe or someth-"

    And then she was very promptly interrupted by the rather large, and quite full (and very heavy) quiver that was thrown at the back of her head.

    "OWWWW. WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"

    "Cause you were talking shit, again, that's what."


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  5. #5
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    Earlier That Day

    *

    The sights, the scents, the sounds of Ruilira.

    All of them were strange, and all of them combined created a most overwhelming mixture of stimuli—at least for Bec, a handmaid who had thus far ventured little outside the palace of Iphis. And what a peculiar sort of ambience it had, this city; one that she could not decide whether she liked or not. Everything here just felt so... foreign, and while she understood some of the Ruiliran words being spoken around her, too much of it sounded like white noise or otherwise mindless babble.

    It all was incredibly uncomfortable.

    ”Money?”

    Well, there was a word she understood, even in Ruiliran.

    Bec did not answer the stranger right away, but instead tarried in an innate sense of shock at the haggard appearance of the ugly man who was suddenly blocking her path. The sun-burned beggar was missing one of his hands, whilst the other held a gnarled wooden walking stick that helped him as he limped along, asking for coin.

    ”Lady! Please?”

    ”But I.. don’t have money,” was all Bec managed to confess with an apologetic look, offering the stranger her best attempt at Ruiliran. She wasn’t sure if she was saying everything correct, nor could she fully make out what the man was saying; but she was trying her best, and that was all one could ever do in life, right?

    ”No! You lie, lady! You rich, lady! Look at dress!”

    Brazenly, the Ruiliran beggar snatched a bit of the fine material that was clothing the handmaiden, and wriggled the blue silk in between his calloused fingers. Startled by this touch, Bec gently swatted his hand away and took a few steps back from the poor sod. The beggar did not take this swat as a deterrent, however, and persevered in his request.

    “Please! Money?”

    “I’m... so sorry, but I have... nothing,” Bec found herself saying, immediately feeling a bit jarred by the realisation that had just escaped her very own lips. I have nothing. The handmaiden was beginning to feel intensely sorry for the man, but also knew that she must shoo him off quickly. If any of the Kemite Royal Guard saw him engaging with her, there could be trouble. “So hush! I not lie. You go, now. I worried what happen if you seen talk to me.”

    But Bec was still unsure if the ragged Ruiliran understood her shoddy attempt at speaking his language, because as she turned to walk away, he followed her and persisted in his request for coin. Nervously, Bec eyed the great entourage before her, assessing the situation. At the moment, all eyes were on the grand parade of Kemites, with whom she had recently travelled with all the way from Iphis.

    At the helm of these Kemites stood the God-King Imun, waving his sceptre to the crowds as his wife and children followed beside him. Ruilirans were throwing flowers at the feet of these royals, seemingly overjoyed to see the Princess of Kem, and offering a lively welcome to the one who would one day be their very own queen.

    “Is this man bothering you?” a Kemite guard asked Bec as he suddenly appeared beside her, his hand resting lightly upon the hip belt that harnessed his weapon. Just as she had always suspected, she was being constantly watched, it seemed—even when she was not standing directly beside Princess Ayissa. At this time, the beggar looked as if he was going to say something to the guard, but Bec cut him off before he had a chance, hoping that he was wise enough to take the hint she was now desperately trying to relay to him.

    “No, no. This man was just leaving,” she remarked, this time in perfect Kemish.

    With a stern eye, the guard studied the beggar, waiting to see if what the handmaiden said was true. A moment of silence passed as the three eyed each other suspiciously, until the poor Ruiliran finally broke the ice with that word again. This time, he was making supplication with the guard, his tone becoming a bit more meek than when he had spoken to Bec.

    ”...Money?”

    Without hesitation, the Kemite guard kicked the walking staff from the Ruiliran beggar’s single hand, causing the man to lose all balance and stumble to the ground. The guard was then quick to kick street dust into the man’s eyes before picking up that gnarled walking stick of his, which he dismissively tossed several metres away. All of this served as a crystal clear warning that he best leave, immediately.

    “If you approach once more, believe me, I will not again be as kind as all that.”

    Bec did not believe that the Ruiliran beggar understood the Kemish being spoken to him by the royal guard, but the impromptu fear that took over him was proof enough that he at least understood the body language. The handmaid felt sorry that she had failed in getting her own message across to him in time, before any guard’s approach. Perhaps she should have been less gentle, but...

    “Miss, he won’t be bothering you again. Come now. You’re free to fall back in line.”

    Nodding her head in a sad sort of compliance, Bec glanced once more over her shoulder to see the Ruiliran beggar crawling on the ground to retrieve his walking stick. Seeing a grown man on his hands and knees was a pitiful sight, to be sure, and she could not quell the bit of sourness that was beginning to rise in her stomach.

    She did not like Ruilira, she decided on the spur of the moment, even as the cheers and happy bellows from the crowds grew ever louder. Bec decided that she just wanted to go home.

    *

    A short time later, Bec and the Kemites were nearing the palace, the front of their parade beginning to enter through its towering gates. It was quite noticeable that the closer they got to this palace, the more lively and lavish the people of the crowds appeared.

    All around her, there was a feeling of high energy and playful spirits: young children playing cat-and-mouse, colourfully clad women carrying jugs of wine, and magic-men blowing fire from their mouths in an artistic sort of display for the new arrivals.

    “Oh!”

    Feeling something land atop the crown of her head from behind, Bec fumbled around a moment, before freezing in place entirely. In her nest of hair, she could feel the slight sensation of talons nudging about her strands, before she heard a long squaaaaawk.

    “Sorry,” a black-skinned man with a gold tooth said as he appeared from behind her, extending his arm upwards to retrieve his tropical bird.

    Sorry! Sorry! the macaw mimicked. The man let out a warm laugh at his bird’s antics, even as he perched the animal back onto his own wrist.

    “He like you. Like to touch?” was all Bec could make out when he spoke to her again in thick Ruiliran. The handmaiden blinked hesitantly while the bird soon began to fluff up its feathers, making itself look a bit like a fluorescent poof.

    “That means he wants to cuddle,” the man went on, but Bec understood less of what he was trying to say this time around. Nonetheless, she felt a sense of comfort due to the friendly demeanour of the man with the bird, so reached out her small hand to caress the creature’s soft feathers. The bird let out something akin to a small coo, before it gently began to nibble at her fingers.

    “Welcome to Ruilira, miss,” the man with the bird then said as he waved over a servant woman who was happened to be passing by with a jug of wine. Fetching a golden goblet from her, he placed it in Bec’s hand and filled it with the deep crimson liquid. “This is a party!”

    Offering a quick bow of his head, the man with the bird took his leave as Bec politely nodded her head in return. It was obvious the man was a slave, but after her brief encounter with him, she somehow felt slightly less uneasy about this whole place.

    So she took a sip of the wine with shifting eyes, surveying the merriment happening all around her. Where had Princess Ayissa gone? A few moments of this inner questioning brought the handmaiden to the conclude that the god-king and his family had been taken to a different part of the palace.

    As to where this was, Bec did not know. But she knew if Princess Ayissa required her presence, she would have been summoned, and it was not unlike Ayissa to allow Bec a certain range of free movement. So the young woman simply continued to sip away at her drink, eyeing the strange palace of the Ruilirans, dwarfed by its columns of cold marble.
    Last edited by Leanna; 07-17-2018 at 05:45 PM.




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  6. #6
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    Grenn moved through the common room of his brothel. He nodded to the few regulars mixed among the new faces. This wedding was fantastic for business; Both legitimate and illegitimate. The sheer number of guards spending time in his business worried the thief about the girls exhaustion.

    He exited into the sun and moved through the streets. His eyes darted across the strange faces as he walked. These were the crowds cutpurses and pickpockets dreamed of. However those in charge of city security knew that as well and the number of guardsmen patrolling was also increased. And so temptation was resisted, by Grenn and other cutpurses.

    As he neared his destination Grenn was hit with the stench. The docks always had a smell to them, though lately the smell was stronger. Most likely it was the increase of traffic. Grenn raised a hand in greeting to a guard overlooking the docks. “Any good prospects?”

    “Aside from a royal entourage?” The guard commented, half jokingly before waving a dismissive hand. “Just a slave ship.”

    The words on Grenn’s tongue disappeared as a massive being was pulled from the ship. “Just a slave ship?” The thief asked studying the creature.
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    Member Atethecat's Avatar
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    ~ An Afternoon and a Day Before the Royal Wedding ~

    A villa, larger than any of the northern villages had been originally nestled into the coastal base of the grayed mountains but had seemingly been built out. A few meters over the ocean, a dock built out of the whitest marble any not native to Ruilira would find magnificent, though truth be told the Kemites—while not mastering marble in the way of their counterparts across the Salty Sea—had an equally as mastery of sandstone in which they engraved intricate patterns and symbols alien in any semblance of meaning to most foreigners. Along the sides of the terrace were cultivated lines of bushes, kept symmetrical through the surgical trimming of gardenmaidens, a type of slave woman trained from birth to master any such gardening tasks but served a secondary purpose as appearing as a part of the idyllic scenery and as such were kept hygienic and well-groomed with thin dresses that exposed much of their assets. As they trimmed the bushes with specialized scythes, they hummed pleasantly.

    Further inside the villa the garden only expanded and diversified with small rectangular pools on each side of the massive, open building. Within this area stood massive cages of various beasts. Some had been captured from the Ruiliran territories while others were only told in folk stories and legends amount the commonfolk. A cave lioness, standing nearly as tall as a man, paced back and forth in her relatively small, iron cage, her fur thicker than her southern relatives with faded spots. Across from her, nearly fifty men across slept a basilisk, a large serpentine creature with armored skin like a crocodile. Pygmy Elephants, some distance away, were given space to roam free, regarded as intelligent and loyal and even slaves would occasionally be dredged out to clean up after the waste left behind by the paradoxical beasts.

    Further back, leaning against the marble walls of the first level, was the giant himself, who had apparently traded another form of bondage for another as huge ball and chain weighed heavily on his movement. The giant himself had substantially changed in appearance from having been captured and forced to spend what seemed like forever on that devil man’s ship. Further restraints had been placed on him, which had allowed for men to come and cut the bestial pelts that Ulgar had fashioned into clothing. The giant was also cleaned...as well as an angry giant could be cleaned, having been drenched in water mixed with pleasant-scented soaps and rubbed with olive oil. Luckily they did not have the courage to sheer Ulgar's shaggy face which he did not hesitate to lung out stray men with, much to their sheer terror.

    On the higher level were the highest of slaves, regarded as of high stock. Gladiators, some even with their sons or a younger gladiator-in-training, likely both owned by the same master with any relationship permitted meant only to foster and groom the warrior lineage of their fathers. These slaves were perhaps the most unpredictable and as such, the elder gladiator—often in their younger adult years themselves—often had one wrist bound to a smaller albeit still restrictive ball not unlike that of the mysterious, raging giant below. Other slaves were also present, eunuchs were a common site in Kemite, often castrated to facilitate greater obedience and a lack of sexual attraction to the vizier’s wife or concubines. This slaves arguably were the highest of the Villa’s hierarchy and slavedom across the Known World, for eunuchs never addressed their masters as such and have agency few freemen could only dream of. The eunuchs—few as they were—kept to their own, personalized sides of the gigantic second floor. Tertiary to the eunuchs were the salt wives, Ruiliran slave women who had been raped or coerced into sex with their masters and bore their children. While still slaves, the masters of Ruilira had slowly come to acknowledge them and their illegitimate slave children. A smaller gated terrace wrapped around the edges of the second level, providing a view of the beasts below.

    The third floor was nearly a villa in of itself, a seat reserved for the master of this villa, his family and his colleagues of equal or higher esteem. Not much was known about it above that as no slave was permitted there on threat of severe lashing, though perhaps few could rumor a eunuch or two entering the gated stairway that led from the second to the third level. Whatever any below this floor had to think about—man or beast—it was of little consequence to the rich masters of the Known World and whatever other guests the master had allowed quarter. There was no rule against giants entering the second level, none that Ulgar cared about as the tantalizing smell of food of which he had been denied drove him to force his way towards the massive set of gated stairs leading to the second level of the massive construct.

    The stairs easily held his wait, being of marble no less than the walls. It was almost there, the smell of charred meat was universal as all creatures with fire cooked their food, even dragons. Having nearly made it up the stairs, Ulgar peaked his head above to look upon whatever was held on this floor. In dismay, the lesser slaves in service to the aristocracy of slavery had backed away, some screaming out in terror while others attempted to pass through the forbidden gate to futility. Slave women screamed out in terror, perhaps more than the lesser slaves while eunuchs hesitantly stepped back, though most not reacting as strongly as the lesser male slaves, women and children. The gladiators and slave warriors, for their part were outwardly void of fear and probed their surroundings for potential weapons and the actions of the beast.

  8. #8
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    From laborer to drink server, to oddity, to now guard. It wasn't often Isilo was bounced around all the jobs of a slave in fact for most of his life he's only been a gladiator. Now he was bathed, partially groomed and dressed in a long yellow jerkin and boots. His arms and legs were unbound unlike the other slaves, but his master Minos had assured this lord, a Senator named Arctus that the beast would obey him.

    Normally Isilo only obeys his master. Anyone else was to be tolerated until his patience ran out, but Lord Minos knew the card to use. One of Isilo's former broodmares a Shemite raider named Shira was a Salt Wife in this villa and she had a young daughter of his with her. The girl was being trained as a Gardenmaiden, he could see her bustling down below with the other young slave girls. She took after her mother thankfully, she had the rich dark tanned skin of the desert people and her hair was already down her back and black as coal and only five years old. Lord Minos had promised to let Isilo see them for a few hours after all the festivities were done. He doubted Shira had even told the girl who were father was, but he so rarely saw any of his women or children that he was eager to do what it takes to see them again.

    And so far it was looking like this would be an easy job. Just stay by Arctus's chair and look scary, most uppity people avoid him slaves and freeman alike. But as heavy footsteps began thudding up the steps to the top level and slaves began panicking slightly the Lord waved his hand and Isilo growled and stood up rolling his meaty shoulders out walking towards the steps. He reached the steps just as the giant from the slave boat crested the steps Isilo planted himself at the top and shook his head.
    "No." Was all he said his voice deep and rough while he crossed his arms over his chest.


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  9. #9
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    The Kemite handmaiden was finding herself increasingly dumbfounded by this strange, new world of Ruilira.

    Dubiously, and with goblet still in hand, her tiny sandalled feet pitter-pattered around the large entrance hall of the palace until the natural flow of the crowd guided her to a pillared courtyard. Soon, she was meandering about the strange architecture—beneath arches that defied what the Kemish knew of physics, and domes that were as large as they were ornate. Every step, it seemed, revealed some new wonder in plain sight:

    To her left stood an athletic-looking male who was in the midst of performing a backflip over a rope of seemingly impossible height; and to her right sat a criss-crossed female playing a lyre with fingers that plucked its strings at an astonishing speed. Bec even caught sight of a large, tamed brown bear that had been taught to mimic menial human tasks, much to the joy of onlookers.

    Distracted by all of these things, Bec took the tiniest of sips from her goblet, only to realise that it was near empty. She barely had stewed over this fact, however, before some young Ruiliran servant girl appeared with a fresh jug, filling her cup to the brim with more of the intoxicating crimson liquid.

    I really shouldn’t, Bec chided herself as her head grew ever more fuzzy. She too was a servant, she reminded herself, just like the Ruiliaran who now stood before her—even if these strangers were not realising it in their merriments. She knew she should not indulge like this, even if Ayissa was often lenient enough to allow her a single glass of wine now and again.

    Cheers from the crowd soon interrupted these thoughts, however, as a group of young men began to loudly hoop and holler at the head of the assembly, raising their fists while shouting a vibrant congratulation to the soon-to-be royal newlyweds. All in inebriated states, the crowd was prompted to join in on a toast to the honour of Kem and Ruilira.

    Thus, as hundreds of glasses were raised, Bec herself felt obliged to do the same; and amidst the sea of strange faces, the handmaiden quietly took yet another sup...

    And then another.

    And another.

    And another.

    *

    Later That Day

    Covered in beads of sweat, Bec shot up from a reclined position to find herself lying within a bed in some unknown location, at an unknown time. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before hesitantly glancing around—first to the left and then to the right—only to remember that she was indeed not in Kem.

    Instead, she was alone in a rather sparse room wherein a few humble cots sat in an array, surrounded by someone’s personal belongings that were scattered throughout. Glancing down at herself, she saw a deep red stain on the bust of her dress and, by instinct, knew she must be sporting a wild case of bed head. What an absolute mess she was.

    Standing up to her feet with a wobble, she noted that one of her sandals had gone missing. The world spinning all around her, she moaned with regret as she stood, feeling as if someone was striking her head with a mallet. As such, she felt the need to cling to the nearest wall to steady herself—almost appearing as if she was embracing the cold stone, itself.

    ”Miss?”

    Bec jumped at the sound of the unexpected female voice that suddenly permeated the afore-empty room.

    ”You feel better after sleep, yeee?”

    “Yes, I... feel... fine. I’m, er. I am here with the Princess of Kem. I should not be... here,” she involuntarily began to stammer in Kemish, before correcting herself and repeating the words in shoddy Ruilirian.

    ”I... should no be here. I to be with Princess of Kem. I lost royals in crowd. I servant of-“

    ”Yes, yes. You servant of Kemite princess, and need to find her. You say this already when the man with talking bird lift and carry you from party. He brought you to me, and we both lie you down on bed. He say you spill wine on self, and he also say you could not stand on own two feet.”

    Bec looked at the woman blankly, remembering no such thing.

    Knowingly, the Ruiliran servant smiled, oh so softly.

    ”Too much party, ye?”

    Feeling ashamed, Bec nodded her head in a solemn yes, her temples pounding too much to garner much more of a coherent response. How did she get so... lost? She must find the royals and return to her station now, she knew. But she could not do so looking like this. Not with some giant wine stain down the front of her dress (much less the state of the rest of her).

    “Ah, it will be okay,” was all that Bec could make out as the woman continued speaking in Ruiliran. “We get you to normal in no time. Come.”

    With that, the Ruiliran servant led the dejected Bec to the women’s bath house. There, she cleaned herself anew and was given fresh servant’s garb; this time, in the style of the Ruilirans (as that was all that could be afforded in her present context).

    Not sure how I’m going to explain this one, the handmaiden thought mildly to herself. The lenient Princess Ayissa was not like to mind so very much, but Bec shivered a small bit at the thought of running into the god-king Imun—or even worse, his son.

    “Ahhh, you look good as new, ye? I take you to Princess of Kem, now.”

    With that, Bec followed the Ruiliran, not knowing where she was being led.
    Last edited by Leanna; 07-31-2018 at 10:22 PM.




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    Default Co-Post | Atethecat & SikstaSlathalin

    The giant found himself stopping for a brief moment, inspecting the creature in front of him. Though the tan-men of Ruilira had looked distinct from the Northmen, this strange man surpassed any differences he had noticed among the native Ruilirans. His skin was darker than any Ruiliran and his hair was a long matted mess of kinky dreads. He did, however, carry a closer similarity in dress to the men of the north, who usually wore simple furs, leathers and cloth. Perhaps this man was closer to a true man than his original captors.

    Regardless, Ulgar had little desire to starve and this being, similar in ways to the Northmen or not, was not going to stand in his way. Quickly glancing over towards the food, different cuts of beef seemingly taken from the entirety of a bull, the giant bellowed a roar and briefly stepped backwards to initiate a mock charge. Like an enraged ape, the giant smashed his fists against his chest and slapped the walls. All of this in an attempt to drive back the barbarian slave. “Wah...nt...eat!” He attempted to put together the few words of Ruiliran he had picked up while on the galley. “Wah...nt...eat...ready!”

    More annoyed than bothered Isilo uncrossed his arms and took a few steps closer to the Giant to show he wasn't afraid of the big man's aggressive display. "Not for you!" He growled rolling his shoulders out and loosening up his joints. He's fought many gladiators like this, the key to winning was to show them you were in control not them.

    Somewhat intrigued by this creature's courage, the giant stood for a few second, peering into the eyes of the man. Almost all he had ever known from man was provocation, but in these new lands he had little clue what to expect. Briefly pondering on his options, Ulgar mumbled something in his gutteral tongue before attempting to persuade this man. Clutching his massive stomach the giant uttered a few more words "N...eed...eat...need... eat"

    Unsure how the man would respond, he readied himself for confrontation, though he had little doubt that such as small creature, a man, could overwhelm him. However, Ulgar never doubted the little bastards in their ability to overcome raw strength with numbers. Surely, this being would be accompanied by allies soon enough.

    Isilo was having trouble arguing with the giant's logic. Being of a similar bestial nature as the big man he understood hunger very well. He didn't wish to fight this monster just yet, so he simply went over to the roasting spit and pulled a smaller big from the flames and handed it to the big man. He can take the whips and brands from his masters. "Go...now he growled returning to his place atop the steps barring the Giant's ascent.

    Ulgar eagerly took the cooked meat with delight. Yanking at his giant weights, he began back down the white marble stairs to the first floor. Paying no heed paid to the sounds of multiple loud footsteps descending from the third level of the villa.

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