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bakerstreet2020-04-30 11:46 pm
crueltea) wrote in bakerstreet2020-04-30 11:46 pm
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.
no subject
The markets of Rivain were known for selling everything. Hawkers came from all over Thedas to parade their wares; exotic animals, glittering jewelry, food of all shapes, colors, and flavors, but the main attraction was the Slave Auction held every half-year. The town was topfilled with traders come from all corners of the known continents, bringing flesh from all races to barter to those with the means to purchase.
Ferelden's Warden Commander was among those looking for, as she jokingly put it, "a few good men". Her companion, a bit more stoic than she, failed to find the humor in her jest, and instead gazed around with a sullen expression. "Suck in your lip, Nathaniel," she told him tartly, cutting the archer a wry glance. "You know why we're here. And if Conscriptions were enough to fill the ranks, we wouldn't be." Nathaniel Howe grumbled, but under his breath, not wishing to incur his commander's rather sharp ire.
The two Wardens strolled the Auction, pausing to examine a few slaves reputed to be of "fighting quality" here and there, but nothing managed to immediately catch her eye. There were many to peruse, however, and several hours later, her temper was evaporating congruent to level of her patience thinning. "Bloody waste of time," she groused, huffing a short sigh, and pointedly ignoring her companion's roll of the eyes and put-upon expression.
Then a rather loud, and obnoxious, voice caught their ears, and Ellessa's perked, her attention suddenly arrested at the newcomer's hawking cries. A "special" sort of slave, one capable of swinging both sword and axe, and possessed of "magic", and just as deadly with a bow, and an "expert monster hunter", sold when his former master apparently expired under questionable circumstances - if, she learned later, a dagger in the back could be considered "questionable".
Intrigued, and to her companion's pique, she drifted towards the hastily-set up platform, undaunted at working her way through the curious to get a clear view of this "exceptionable" specimen. What she saw didn't disappoint. Yes, this one definitely looked as described, if not even more haggard, thanks to his worn clothing and the collar around his neck, along with manacles and shackles. A closer observation revealed softly glowing runes in that collar - apparently the "magic" boast...hadn't been. Hmmm...
A brightly dressed lordling at her elbow called out a bid, and Ellessa blinked out of her reverie, fine brows furrowing. Immediately she stepped forward, raising her voice clearly.
"Fifteen sovereigns!"
The lordling turned to glare at her, huffing. And promptly raised his bid. "Twenty!"
Elle considered punching him right in the face. But decided to behave herself, for the moment. "Twenty-five!"
The huckster grinned; he'd only paid ten for this used relic, but apparently the lady and the lord were going to triple his cost, and all for one white-haired monster? Ha! Dragging his wagon and his merchandise to this gods-forsaken tropical hell was going to pay off, and then some!
"Thirty!"
Elle abruptly turned, more than ready to let this over-stuffed idiot melt in the heat of her ire, but held her tongue when she spied Nathaniel behind him, speaking quite pointedly near the lordling's ear, the latter's arm held at a rather odd angle behind his back, thanks to Howe's huge hand. He whimpered, then nodded hurriedly, and Howe let go, stepping back calmly as the poppinjay suddenly hurried off into the crowd.
Satisfied, Ellessa smirked and turned back around. "Fifty, and that's my final offer."
The huckster gaped, stammered something officious, and abruptly closed the bidding, thudding his fist on the palm of his opposite hand. Sale over and done. The small crowd began to disperse, and Nathaniel stepped up to his Commander. "My lady," he began in a low voice, eyeing the slave still on display, "what in the Maker's name are you going to do with that?"
Elle smiled, a razor-sort of smile Nathaniel had seen before. Usually just before some unfortunate creature or irreverent human suddenly began leaking from several well-placed holes. "Oh," she mused in a thoughtful tone, "I'm sure I'll think of something."
no subject
Hardship had not bowed Geralt of Rivia.
He stood on the podium looking for all the world as if he might meet any man who challenged him even though he was dirty, poorly-clothed, and the heavy iron on his wrists and ankles was trying its best to pull him toward the floor. He stood like someone who had known nothing but fighting in his life; his weight was on his left foot just so, instinct ready to move him even though he could go nowhere, his broad shoulders low and tense under the sea of eyes that washed upon him and caught. His beard needed more than a trim and his long white hair had been roughly pulled back into a hank at the top of his head. He looked misused and dangerous and while that was probably the point in order to sell him, it was also happened to be true.
If only anyone in Thedas had known what a Witcher was, they would have understood the danger. Instead they looked at him and saw his yellow cat's eyes, his too-pale colors, and his sheer size-- and if that didn't convince them, then there was the collar.
The glowing runes were magic beyond Geralt's understanding and certainly the singular thing that had facilitated the ambush years ago that had gotten him thrown into the low belly of a great ship and brought to Thedas in chains. The alchemy that had made him a Witcher had shifted the base building blocks of his self and was and not something that could be altered once set in its course-- or so he'd always believed. The runes on the collar had proven him a liar and a fool. The magic in the cold, unforgiving iron kept him from focusing himself with enough precision to use Signs and it stifled his sharp senses. It made him sluggish, moderating his unnatural speed, strength, ability to heal.
... In other words the collar had made him acceptably human, by Thedas standards. Manageable. Oh, it hadn't robbed him of his skill but skill was small consolation. In his darker moods, Geralt thought that there were certainly people back on the Continent that would have applauded such standards set to Witchers. He'd been on Thedas' soil for, by his best count, just under five years. It was still like living in darkness.
Melted onto the collar between one set of the softly glowing runes was a silver wolf's head, forever caught in a snarl. It was the only thing from his old life that still remained with him.
"Fifty sovereigns, madame," the huckster purred as a reminder to Ellessa as the crowd began to disperse and he sidled to the edge of the stage. "For the White Wolf. Sovereigns for the keys and title." Behind the man, yellow eyes watched the lady who intended to own him as well as man who had pulled a swift bit of strong-arming to help said lady get what she'd wanted. There was no needing superior senses to have seen that little cheat.
The huckster smiled and showed a gold side tooth, holding out an empty palm.
no subject
The smirking huckster garnered only the barest glance, and a cool one at that; Elle knew exactly how much she'd paid for this particular specimen. A sharp eyebrow went up, and she stated in a low, chilly tone, "Nathaniel, pay the man." She didn't miss her companion's mild grumbling, and chose to ignore his resigned sigh, but her second in command did as ordered, pulling out a leather purse and counting out coins. Well and good. Howe would see to the particulars - he was an excellent steward, and she was ever-grateful for his service - and he did well in curbing his commander's peculiarities. ...well, most of the time.
As it was, Ellessa was free to examine her purchase a bit more closely, although she loathed to think of him as property. But, when in Rivain... She gave the command to have the shackles unlocked, and it was done, leaving the "White Wolf" hers by law. Though still bound, the man could at least walk, and the handlers brought him down off of the stage, handed her the chain's business end, bowed, and vanished back to their master's stall.
Howe at her shoulder, waiting in silence, Elle gave her new acquisition a long look, up and down. Finally, she squared her shoulders and addressed him directly for the first time.
"Have you a name? Other than 'White Wolf', or is that a particular moniker garnered from..." She gestured to his disheveled appearance. "...the obvious?"
no subject
"No," was the immediate answer (the single syllable doing nothing to dispel that lupine moniker, frankly, as the man's voice was a low-pitched growl that time would never heal) but a belated "my lady," was tacked on after a moment. It made it sound as if Geralt were addressing a noblewoman instead of an owner and while it was a habit that had gotten him into trouble before, the thing remained unchanged. He would take a beating over giving into such little debasements over which he still had control. "Wolf is fine."
Geralt belonged to him, and him alone.
He looked at the pair of them and wondered if he'd been pressed into military service. They both stood like soldiers and the man with deference besides despite the twist to his lips that made it look like perhaps he was, somehow, continuously sucking a lemon. Geralt doubted it was a look reserved for himself alone-- he had known such men. The woman was more of a question mark aside from the very cool, structured way she presented herself. A woman with a title, though perhaps not lady.
The thought of fighting a war like this made his stomach turn, went against everything that he stood for, but what could he do? He could be jumping to conclusions besides-- perhaps these two just needed a beast of a man to scrub latrines. The thought stuck with something like gallows humor at the base of his throat but his expression remained as impassive as ever.
no subject
"Very well. 'Wolf' will suffice, I suppose." His added honorific didn't bother her too much; it was, ironically, true, though she laid little claim to the title anymore. Her brother's burden, thank the Maker. "I am Ellessa Cousland, Warden-Commander of Ferelden, and this is Captain Nathaniel Howe of same." An eyebrow went up as she continued her appraisal, but before she could speak further, Howe jogged her elbow, suggesting that the middle of a Rivani slave market might not be the best time for explanations and the like.
Huffing a disgruntled snort, Elle rolled her eyes, but acquiesced the point. "All right, fine. Have it your way, Nathaniel. I suppose you've a decent point; this place reeks like an open cesspit." She took up the chain attached to the Wolf's manacles, giving it a flippant little shake. "Well, come along, Wolf. The good Captain believes us to be set upon by Maker-knows-what unmentionables if we linger in this horrid place for much longer."
She flashed a roguish grin. "Although I daresay you could stand a good scrubbing, yourself. We'll have to see to that, once we're out of here." To Howe, she said, "Go and buy him a horse." Before he could vanish into the crowd - reluctantly - Elle added, "And a decent mount, Nathaniel. I don't want him to have to carry the beast before we reach the Free Marches, understand?"
Leading the Wolf through the slowly dispersing throng, she added, "He's a good man, but horribly thrifty. If he'd have had his way, we'd have slept in tents and rowed our own selves across the Waking Sea, I swear." She straightened her shoulders, gave a few gawkers a hard look, and continued on, navigating the milling crowd with practiced ease, though her free hand never strayed too far from a a weapon.
"As it is, we've decent lodgings not too far. So we'll get you bathed and fed, since I don't doubt it's been a while since you've had a decent one of either. After that...we'll talk."