Thread: The Grendlander (Mr. M and Rubyliday)

Re The Grendlander invitation only The passers-by would glance into the courtyard, see the Grendlander's new slaves, and think well, there's a few we'll never see again. Everybody knew there were lots of bodies went into the town house, and not as many came out. From the terrified noises and crying that could be heard from the slaves, it was clear that many, if not all, of the slaves knew this, too. The sun sank low, and it turned out the slave cages were actually stacked in the lee of the building the shade crept up over them first in the courtyard. By the time they were completely shaded, the workers were coming back from the fields, carting their tools and the produce that was ripe. They took everything down to the cooler underground chambers where right-thinking Sekhtothians stayed if they could afford to, and then came back up for the new slaves. They stacked the cages in several rooms. The room Ruby had, she shared with five other cages, stacked in a row on a raised shelf. From the looks of the other things in the room, it was a storage area there were baskets of grain, hanging onions, stacks of spare wood, etc. They were being treated as little more than a basic resource, like food. Larger, more muscular guard-types came in, and one by one, they took each slave out of the cage on a leash and walked them up and down the storage room, letting them stretch their limbs and straighten their backs. They brought them down the hall to a kind of garderobe, where they were allowed to relieve themselves in relative privacy a luxury!, before being bundled back into the cages. After they left, another slave, clearly hobbled and looking beaten and abused, limped in, dispensing a thick, tough, but good-tasting bread and a cup of water to each slave. In some ways, this was better treatment than they'd endured, but in others, it was worrying. What were they being stored for? What ulterior motive could this treatment have? The slaves in the room were confused and nervous, too nervous to talk much, but they wondered anyway... A high slit window in the wall showed when the sun's light finally faded from the sky, and not too long after, a different slave brought one of the eternal-flame torches in, casting a dim glow through the room. Some time after she left, there were booted footsteps, and someone entered. This was clearly the infamous Grendlander, Eldin Bladehallow, come to examine his new purchases. He was tall, for a northlander, and paler than most any human any of the slaves had seen. His hair was light in color, and long to the shoulders, but his eyes were dark, almost black, with large irises, so that the whiles of his eyes were hard to see at first glance. His face was high-boned, with an aqualine nose he looked as noble as his title suggested. He was dressed in Grendhall-style clothes, long pants and boots and long-sleeve linen shirt, with a cloak it seemed out of place and uncomfortable, even in the relative coolness of the storage room, but he didn't seem to care. He looked over all six of them, his eyes appraising, and cold. Half-turning to his major-domo, Xiliath, the night-skinned elf who nonetheless wore a slave collar around his neck, he asked, And you selected all of these from smaller markets? Xiliath sighed, wearily. Yes, Master. As usual. Your procedures have been followed. Good. The master of the house smiled, and maybe it was the sharpened teeth or the glitter in his eyes, but no one was gratified by the smile. Very well then. And then he turned and left. The slaves were left to themselves, but they didn't know what to think...