The Slave Auction Meme

[toastysocks]

>The Slave Auction Meme

The Slave Auction Meme



❧ Leave a comment with the character's name, fandom, and whether your character will be playing the part of 'slave' or 'master', plus preferences for scenarios if you have any.
❧ Respond to others with one of the scenarios below or feel free to make up your own.
❧ Please remember to be respectful of others while you play

Warning: Be aware that this meme deals with dark subjects like slavery and may also contain non-consensual/dubiously consensual sex, violence, and kink.

SLAVES

1. The Newbie - This is your very first auction and you don't quite know what to expect. Hopefully you remember your training and don't disgrace yourself in front of your new master. Hopefully someone thinks you're worth buying at all.

2. The Oldtimer - You've been bought and sold and bought again so many times. You've seen it all before and don't think this time is going to be much different. In fact, the only real anxiety you've got is whether or not someone's going to pay for a more than slightly used slave.

3. The Pet - You're a pleasure slave. A bed warmer. A decorative piece of artwork. You're meant to look pretty and be pleasing and not much else.

4. The Guard - Your master hired you because of your ability to swing a sword or shoot a gun, not your looks.

5. The Escape Artist - Somehow you always manage to squirm out of your master's chains. Too bad you seem to get caught after a while. Maybe your next daring escape will be permanent. Then again, maybe your next master has special ways of keeping you locked up.

6. The Undercover - You aren't a slave at all, you're just pretending to be one. Why? Well that's up to you. Either way, your cover is blown if you don't act the part.

7. The Specialist - You have a skill that no one else has. Something rare and valuable. Something your master needs more than anything else.

MASTERS

1. The Customer - You've owned slaves before and this trip to the market is nothing new to you. Still, you're hoping to find something worth your while.

2. The Gift - Someone bought a pet for you, isn't that nice of them? Or maybe it isn't so nice. Did you even want a slave in the first place? Well you're stuck with one now.

3. The Giver - You're selecting a slave for someone else, and they need to be perfect. Perhaps you'd better test them out first to make sure you're getting your money's worth.

4. The Trainer - You specialize in taming unruly slaves and making them over into perfect, obedient, well-trained pets.

5. The Rebel - You hate the idea of slavery, but the system isn't going to go away any time soon, so the next best thing is to buy up any slave you can get your hands on and free them, right?

6. The Companion - You want someone to be with you always, someone you can talk to and depend on, someone who will never leave your side. It's a good thing that money can buy that these days.

7. The Undercover - You're not actually a Master. You're at the auction for an entirely different reason. Maybe it's special policework, maybe you're trying to hunt down a certain someone. Either way, your cover is blown unless you act the part.

As always, feel free to use a combination of scenarios or make up your own if you have other ideas.


Snagged from here.

Comments

[omnipresently]

Gladly, I assume, is a stretch of term.

[ Seraphina turned back, continuing to study Alek, an internal debate carefully weighed. Then she approached again, an intense look (that, unequivocally, she had inherited from her father) fixed on him. ]

Then will you swear to me, on your name and the name of your House, that you will agree to a term of service in my employ? And that, should you fulfill that, I will release your debt when my condition has been met, and the service rendered is no longer needed?

[lesserlion]

[There is no real reaction to Seraphina's change in demeanor, however, he bows his head after a mere moment of consideration.]

On my name as a knight of House Reyne, you have my fealty, my lady.

[The pact, a verbal one, is wrought in Westerosi Honour. No Knight would violate an oath of fealty, least of all a man as prideful as Lord Bertram's brother.]

[omnipresently]

Then I, as the Lady of House Pitchiner, do accept you into my service, upon the terms of my word and the honour of my House.

[ The name should be familiar to anyone who has studied the Westeori families. A relatively small House, bound to the Targaryens, and a holding to the south. What they were known for was an uncanny ability to grow herbs that were used all over the continent, particularly rare ones, difficult to find in the wild or to grow. They were also known to trade these cultivations outside the borders of their sworn fealty; largely, they were regarded as being as neutral as one could be, while still sweating loyalty to the Targaryens.

The other thing which a Reyne would recognize of the name is that it also belonged to a prominent general in the Targaryen forces: Kozmotis Pitchiner, a skilled warrior and Lord, who led his own forces at the front of the line, rather than commanding from the normal post.

Seraphina withdraws momentarily, a word with the gatekeeper and an additional bribe of coin, and Alek's cell is opened. The records of him being on the list to be auctioned will simply disappear, no trace of his being here remaining.

She returns with both her servants in tow, and one of them hands Alek a cloak, drab and brown, but relatively clean. Partly for warmth, for the day is overcast and chill, and partly to cover that tunic emblem of his. ]

We have several hours ride ahead.

[lesserlion]

[Pitchiner... Yes, the name does sound incredibly familiar. On the border between the Crownlands and the Reach, on a seam of ground that is exceptionally fertile... House Pitchiner has had to defend it's borders from all sides...

...With help from the royal family, of course. The Pitchiner's seat could not be budged.

How very interesting.]

You are far from your lands, my lady. [Alek remarks, idly, accepting the cloak and wrapping it around himself.] Seems the rule of gold applies here in Dorne, also.

[omnipresently]

"I don't trade in gold," she answered simply. "But yes, we're both far from home, and neither of us are here to enjoy Dornish reds or the abundance of sunshine."

They leave with the gatekeeper's back obediently turned as they approached, and the servants fall in line, one each side of Alek while Seraphina leads. Outside the markets, there is a small contingent of soldiers, waiting with several wagons and a horse already saddled for her. The commander, a hawkish and sour looking man, bows to her before shooting Alek a suspicious glare.

"I was not made aware that we would be acquiring new drudges, my Lady," he said.

"That is because I do not require your permission nor awareness to do so, Commander," she answered airily, and Alek would see the faint clench of the commander's jaw before he bowed respectfully.

"Of course. You, get in that wagon! Don't cause trouble or I'll chain you to the axle and you can walk back to the Greencross."

[lesserlion]

A narrowing of the gaze at the commander, but the lion does as ordered, moving to climb up into the wagon indicated.

There's a glance sent to Seraphina, a curious one more than otherwise, the steel softening slightly. He has to wonder what he has promised himself for.

[omnipresently]

The convoy rides northward at a steady pace that implies this sort of travel is a regular occurrence. There's no banner flying at the head of their group, no sign of the grey and charcoal checked banner bearing twin golden stars. As the sun dipped toward the horizon, the procession pulled off the main road and made camp, orderly and with little fuss.

Alek is fed along with the rest of the servants, but afterward, he's summoned to the lit tent that's been erected for the Lady. She's sitting at a traveling table, finally divested of the black robes to reveal a surprisingly functional green, high collared dress... not usually the sort of thing one of her station would be wearing, even on the road.

"Sit down," she said as he arrived in the doorway, expectant to be obeyed.

[lesserlion]

Alek takes the seat proffered, his posture immaculate and straight; he has some training, that is for certain. A knight.

He remains silent. His new temporary liegelord commanding his full attention. He won't speak unless spoken to.

[omnipresently]

All the better for her, considering what she plans of asking of him. Open in front of her is a ledger book, neat rows and columns in an even hand, but she lays the quill aside to study him, hands folded in her lap, and it's several moments of silence before she speaks.

"Tell me your name, and how you ended up in Dorne."

[lesserlion]

"I am Ser Alek Reyne of Castamere, brother to Lord Bertrand Reyne. Commander of the Iron Gate of King's Landing." Alek recites, well-practiced. "As to my current position, there are many in Dorne who will hold grudges, my lady, and considering I fought in the Young Dragon's conquest, my name is not particularily fondly remembered."

[omnipresently]

Recognition raised her chin slightly in the lamplight. "I've heard of you," she replied. "My father spoke of you years ago, defending Loren Lannister and allowing him to escape after the contingent was cut off from reinforcements. He said you were even younger than he was then, but that you cut down many of Princess Rhaenyra's soldiers as though you were an armed division unto yourself."

Her father Kozmotis did not expend praise of battle lightly; if anything, he often spoke as little of it as possible. Her mother had never liked to hear the details, and Seraphina was well aware (now, at least, as an adult) that her father's story of glorious victories were crafted to evade the details of exactly how ugly and petty war could be. (Oh how she had raged at him, all of eight years old, when she'd learned the truth.)

But this revelation did present some problems, she thought, leaning back against the woven brace of the chair, long fingers steepled together in contemplation. She had expected, having seen the emblem on his surcoat, that he was a man of standing. Even without the lion symbol emblazoned there, his bearing, the way he carried himself, and the way he'd refused to be cowed by the slavers spoke as much. But the brother of the Lord of Castamere, one holding a Gate Commander's position in King's Landing, this went beyond the importance she had bargained for.

Not to mention, if Alek was serving as a Gate Commander, they were technically allies.

"You are complicating my matters, Ser Alek Reyne of Castamere."

[lesserlion]

"Then I merely complicate by existing, my lady." Alek replies, smoothly. "It is not my intention, and I stand by my pledge earlier."

What could she possibly need that his standing would complicate matters? Curious.

"And your father exaggerates my skills, I merely forged enough of a path to allow Lord Loren to take advantage." This is said humbly. Alek, too, prefers to avoid talking of war.

[omnipresently]

"My father is not prone to exaggeration," Seraphina replied with a thin smile, but there was fondness behind it.

Setting down the quill on the drip plate to drain, she capped the inkpot. "The reason I was at the auction in Dorne," she began, glancing at the doorway of the tent and the silhouettes of the guardsmen standing watch. Then she seemed to reconsider her approach to beginning the conversation by that angle.

"I'm sure you've noticed," she started again, "that the soldiers here do not wear the insignia of House Pitchiner. They are, in fact, all sellswords. We've never had a large holding, and my father took the loyal of Greencross men with him to fight the Pentoshi, but did not want our land undefended. This troupe of sellswords call themselves 'Fearlings', and in many ways, that name is accurate. I trust the hold of coin over them, but coin doesn't buy loyalty... and it doesn't train the younger generation in a way that I would want them trained."

She lets that sink in for a moment, and then returns to her original statement. "So the reason I was at the auction, was to try and find someone with proper, reputable training, perhaps a disgraced Knight, or a displaced fosterling bastard, I don't care about their circumstance. As long as they can teach, and teach well. Not just about swinging a sword or firing a bow, but about how to be loyal. How to be someone who can be relied upon, not simply because they are being paid to do so."

[lesserlion]

"As I said in the jail, my lady, you have my loyalty and thanks for freeing me." He shifts slightly in his seat, resting a hand on the table. "A Lannister, I may not be, but I was trained by one, and my training was of a class one would expect from the heir of Casterly Rock. I would be doing not only yourself, but Lord Loren, a disservice if I failed to repay my debt to you, my lady."

He bows his head, respectfully.

"My position as Commander can be placed on hold. Particularily, if it is in service to one of the king's bannermen. There is no complication here."

[omnipresently]

"Then I would be pleased to take you into the service of my House," Seraphina replied, finally favouring Alek with a small smile, tinged with relief, and the first of which she'd shown since realizing exactly whom she'd released from the cell.

"To keep everything orderly while traveling, please understand that I will refrain from announcing this agreement until we've returned to the Greencross. You'll also be able to send ravens to Castamere and King's Landing, and to anyone else you need to contact to let them know what is happening. Will you need anything brought from either location?"

[lesserlion]

A bow of the head.

"An honour I will accept gladly, my lady."

As to the question of anything brought, he shakes his head.

"I merely require clean clothing, armour and weapons. I can send from King's Landing if it would be easier, my lady?"

[omnipresently]

"You'll have both, as it suits," she replied. "It is no more or less effort, to get them from either." Her father, after all, kept an extensive armory, but she also knew that people favoured weapons and armor of their own.

---

True to her word, she let Alek by transported by wagon without a single mention of the deal she had struck with him, as they continued northward. He was not poorly treated, housed among the other servants of the troupe, who gave him strange looks sometimes, but otherwise did not harry him.

The caravan's journey was unimpeded, and buoyed by good weather, they arrived nearly a full day ahead of schedule. The Greencross was so named because of its location, situated in the cradle of two valleys as they came together, forming a low-lying area that was where Alek had recalled it: on the seam of land between the Crownlands and the Reach. In terms of acreage, House Pitchiner's holdings were on the meager side even for that of a minor house, but the quality of land made it attractive to surrounding lords.

The keep was also on the smaller side, almost utilitarian in design, but the outer wall surrounding it is well-fortified and well-manned by more of the Fearling sellswords, distinguished by their insignia-less armours. The keep itself is situated on rougher ground, where it would be harder to approach from all sides.

Once they're inside the outer wall, amid the bustle of the wagons being unloaded, the trip's purchases being hauled off to their various storerooms, one of Sera's servants (though not one of those who'd been on the trip with them) approaches Alek.

"If you would please follow me," he said politely, gesturing to one of the arched doorways which led inside. "You are to be shown to your quarters."