The Palace of Milath:Great Hall


This message was last edited by the GM at 05:40, Sun 07 Oct 2007.

As Azumi was dragged towards the Palace she could not help but gaze in wonder at the building, such luxury and opulence was beyond her comprehension, it was like something the gods themselves would live.  Had she the inclination to do so, she could have easily knocked the small boy down and tried to flee - unfortunately she lacked the inclination, believing this to be her fate, and silently steeling herself for whatever it had in store for her.

As they reached inside the palace she was led down a maze of corridors and stairs that it made her head whirl until she arrived in a small chamber somewhere below.  He returned a short while later with a jug of water and a cloth and proceeded to remove her filthy rags.

As he bathed her body, she wasn't sure which of the two was the most uncomfortable as she stood head bowed, her cheeks reddening as the wet cloth slowly worked the filth and grime from her body. The boy at first kept his eyes averted, although he soon grew fascinated by the muscled tone of her thighs, as they involuntarily tensed at his touch.  It was his turn to blush as he rubbed the cloth over her breasts, her nipples hardening at the touch of the cold water.

Neither had said a word, despite her desire to ask a hundred questions about this new land, new home and her new master.  Part of her dare not want to know.

As he finished, she pulled her loincloth and dirty vest back on, there being no change of clothes.  He took a little time, Azumi unaware he was waiting for the bulge in his pants to ease before he led her further into the palace, this time heading up stairs.

Pulling on his gloves, Marcus Tiberius headed down the hall. He had been in attendance in a meeting...Something about a trade caravan to Valkandis. He had several prime slaves for the halls of the Sultana, if she so desired. It was fine profit to be made.
And now, apparently, they'd found a slave they thought he would like.
He grinned slightly. He'd never had his own slave before. Instead, he usually sold them. Still, if they thought this one would work...
The man adjusted the schiavona at his hip. He'd had the weapon for years now. More precise than a broadsword, but with more weight than a rapier, it was, in his opinion, an ideal weapon.
All the same, he thought with a grin, the whip worked quite well on the slaves. He rested a hand on the coiled leather slung at his belt, the weighted tips dangling.

Marcus Tiberius, usually known as Master Tiberius, was a tall, thin man with whipcord muscles and a smirk seemingly plastered onto his face. Everything about him bespoke intelligance and cruelty, from the close cut of his beard to the silver ring on his finger, down to the polished leather boots he wore that came nearly to his knees. His eyes glinted with a malicious brilliance. Few knew his history, or they would have thought it obvious why he was as he was.

"Just what do you have here?" he asked the servant. His voice was silky, soft, a bit of an accent. That accent gave away the fact that he was not from Arn. His eyes drifted from the servant and to Azumi.

She glanced at the man, unsure who he was.  Although she began to get an inkling from the boys reaction - who bowed submissively, suprised by the mans arrival.

"A gift ... Master Tiberius ... from ... from ... " he stammered, his nerves apparent. "Master Rolf thought you would like her sir".

As she realised this was her new master, she felt her stomach lurch, but fought to hide her sudden discomfort. She inhaled softly, controlling her breathing and stood silently, gazing back defiantly at the man.

She raised a hand in a fist, covering it with the palm of the other and bowed.

Marcus sneered at the servant's stammerings. "Get out of my sight," he snapped, his eyes sparking angrily. "You may tell Master Rolf that he was right-I am pleased he decided to bring this girl to me."

He watched the servant scurry off, a grin spreading across his features.
"So."
Marcus' eyes turned back to Azumi. "You are mine now, yes? A pity they could not have dressed you in something more presentable. I will hardly allow my servants to walka round in naught but rags. Still, I suppose they dress you in such a way so as to better show what you have to offer, yes?"
He didn't want a reply, and hardly expected one. "Master Rolf will no doubt have already checked your teeth and the like. You appear healthy enough."

The slave master's eyes looked over her body. It was not a lustful gaze, but the gaze of a professional. "No doubt you know something of acrobatics and kick-fighting. Your legs are noticably more muscled than many women's."

Azumi took a moment, sizing up the man, before deciding she would not be showing the same weakness as the young boy, however difficult it felt to find her words.  Her throat and lips suddenly felt dry, and burned with a irrititing heat.

"Yes sir, my father taught me a little ... " she managed, trying her best to keep her voice steady and clear.

"Your father hmm?"
He raised a brow. "At least you have the proper tone. When you address me, you will refer to me as Sir, Master, or Master Tiberius. That is what servants call me, and that is what my slave will call me."
He turned to go. "What is your name, girl? I will not go about calling you slave all day while we find you something appropriate to wear."
He had begun heading down the steps of the Palace, the heels of his boots clicking on the floor. He was obviously disgusted with the cloathes she wore, for he dressed rather well himself.

"Azumi ... sir" she had thought to say master, but somehow it felt wrong.

She hurried after him after a moments pause, at first unsure if she was supposed to be following him or not.  As she hurried to catch up, she quickly fell into step behind him, watching the swing of his sword upon his hip as she strode purposefully before her.

"Brown hair and brown eyes," he murmered as he walked, head bowed. He nearly walked right into another servant, who had to scuttle out of th way.
"Blue dresses, perhaps? Dark blue. Black is always nice as well."
He looked over his shoulder at Azumi. "You and I will choose seven outfits for you, Azumi. They must be respectable in appearance, but also servicable. We will also purchase one good dress for special occasions when I must bring you along."
The man at the doors of the palace was nearly unable to open them fast enough as he strode out. "The market will have something, I am certain."

OOC: To the city

Azumi listened but only nodded, her eyes wide at the splendour of the palace, and also at what she was hearing. An outfit for every day of the week!

She had never known such oppulence, having worn the same clothes pretty much year in year out.

<< To City >>

She was surrounded by advisors and servants as soon as she left her quarters. Sometimes she felt like a parade followed her almost everywhere. She sighed heavily as they opened the massive ironclad wooden doors before sweeping into the room taking a seat upon the throne upon the dias there.

OOC: From the Barracks

"You didn't have a knife to stick me with anyhow," Raynald noted, as he pushed wide the doors. "What would you do, put a fish hook in my jugular?"
With a none too gentle hand, Raynald pushed Crow in front of him, shutting the door as they entered.
"The Empress will review you before the trip begins. Show respect, or I'll ensure that the trip is very long and difficult for you."

She sighed sadly as she was forced to the head of the line by the guards. She was one of Sidi's own personal slaves, and she'd been caught sneaking out to meet with a man...who had turned out to be an enemy spy. The spy had been hanged immediately...and she was brought here for judgement.

She sobbed heartbrokenly. She loved Sidi, but had been tempted by a sexy man with a beautiful face to betray her mistress.