.....40-something years ago ....
"Aye! Fine, young forest Elf here! FIFTY gold pieces! C'mon! Sure she might be just out of diapers but that only means she'll be around for so much longer! Especially for you 'long lifers' .... think of the bargain you're getting! If she survives your torments, you'll be set for the end of your days. Guaranteed to withstand TEN lashes despite her youth! Know it to be true myself!" .... the fat, brown haired slaver cries to a crowd of spectators ... observing the wretched Sylvan girl within the bird-cage - like prison.
The young girl hadn't much of an idea what he was saying. Her common tongue was nowhere near as developed as her older brother ... even if she could understand ... she needn't care anymore. Her eyes had developed a permanent glaze, as if they were made of milky glass. She slowly curls up into a ball at the base of her cell, lying on her left side ... staring lustrelessly from the confines of her irregular cage at the sea of people before her. Her tattered cloth dress veiling her body acting as her only guard against the insipid cold of her atmosphere.
"Forty!! Come now ... Forty gold at the very least for such a girl .... nobody here want a plaything for their children? Or a lifelong scullery maid? With a good comb and clean, she could even make a very attractive shopkeeper's assistant with a pretty little uniform!" Decries once more the disgusting example of Humanity.
She softly murmurs to herself ... gibberish ... as she mentally retreats from her surroundings and becomes entirely withdrawn. Her lips moving quickly as she rocks backwards and forwards in her cage, yet speaking nothing. Eventually she locks eyes with a Drow male within the crowd .... carefully examining her. His black eyes considering any potential within her as he scours her form for any imperfectiopns beyond her malicious bruises and other wounds caused by her significant abuse. His fine clothes and youthful exterior hinting at noble birth as the Sylvan regards him inturn, yet blankly and without any emotion. He tilts his head to the left, then the right, then back again ... smirking softly as he recognizes that the young Sylvan hasn't blinked ... not once ... her eyes locked with his in a permanent waking state ... yet so withdrawn that it's like she sees him and yet sees nothing at all.
To the young Drow with shoulder length locks, this was his confirmation of a good purchase he was waiting for ... a moving doll. Something he could fashion without hindrance from any strong sense of will and self-esteem.
"Forty is a fine price!" the Drow exclaims loudly in common as he tosses a small bag of gold coins at the slaver, now most pleased.
"Yes good sir!! You have a brilliant eye for a bargain, sir!" the slaver chortles happily to himself as he brandishes a key to unlock the cage. "Oi! Elf! On your feet! Follow your new Master!"
The young Sylvan complies ... lifting herself up and nodding in supplication. As she exfiltrates her cell, forcefully the Drow lifts her chin up so that his eyes meet his new slave's before tossing her chin away from his stare and throwing the frail girl into the street. As she is impelled into the semi-busy road, she trips over a small signpost and lands headfirst into the hard surface, generating much laughter from the group gathered around. The harsh blow stunning her for a moment, as she is shaken awake once more by the Drow master grabbing her by the back of the neck and lifting the Elf to her feet.
"Keep moving, my home is just over the road, twenty blocks over ... turn to face me ... and I'll kill you where you stand." the Drow mutters into his new possession's ear.
The former prisoner knew not much common ... but she knew that she angered him. So she simply moves where he leads her. Too simple .... she no longer cared about what was going to happen to her. She no longer had any reason to fight it. She just knew that she was in the possession of one person, and now another. Simple truths. Quite possibly she'd be sold again .... another simple truth. Simple truth is that she was worth forty gold, and she would be worth far less by the time her master put her to work. Maybe she could work hard and be worth more than forty gold? The question flickers about her skull before she re-enters her withdrawn state of unquestioning reliance as she is lead into the hall of a massive manor.
Upon their arrival, the Drow male waves off two servants that come to greet him at the door without uttering a word. One middle aged Human male, dressed to the nines, bowing his head in honour of his master. The other was another Sylvan ... it was hard to determine her age .... atleast 80 ... maybe? Very comely girl. With brilliant blue eyes, and long auburn hair .... dressed in long black dress and apron. Evidently the Human was a butler .... and she was a cook of sorts. That much was understandable by the streaks of blood splattered across her garbs, and the impressive selection of knives and cleavers holstered around her belt.
"Master Vrael ... would you entertain the notion of a full course meal consisting of fresh forest mushrooms with lamb cultlets and black pepper sauce ... with a fine Aliunan Cognac to clean the palate? We have been in receivership of prime Khetian lamb from an honoured partner of yours. The cook has been preparing them for hours." the Human spoke in common tongue as he bows his head, awaiting confirmation.
Master Vrael nods at the butler, who in turn gives a long, cold stare at the 'new arrival' as he casually waves off the cook to continue her household duties.
"Perhaps your .... 'guest' ... would fancy some clothes befitting her stay here?" The butler remarks harshly upon the emotionless girl before him.
Master Vrael looks at the top of the young girl's head, and then fixates his gaze upon his butler's mildly displeased disposition at being presented with such a presence. Contemplating which he should do first. His mindset only being broken as the young Sylvan's lips begin to move once more, only this time her words are far more audible due to the quieter nature of the manor as opposed to the slaver markets within the open streets of Underdark. Emotionlessly scanning the room
"Master Vrael .... mushrooms ....lamb .... cook ... hours .... Master Vrael .... cutlets ... pepper .... fine .... Master Vrael .... clean .. honoured .... preparing...." she spakes coldly in the common tongue of the Butler within the room as she stares around her. Not truly understanding what she is saying.
Vrael, despite being angered at first by the connection between himself and his meal, quickly reconciles with any notions of displeasure at the Elf as he begins to chuckle. Observing the young girl almost gleefully like a child would a new toy. Cooly he rests his hand against the top of the mumbling girl's head and leads her upstairs and towards a back room. Pushing open the door leading to what once must have been a broom closet, but now a miniature bedroom containing a rolled mat propped against all three walls. The smell of cleaning agents filled her nose, and undoubtedly his, as her mumbling is cut short and he pushes her into the tiny accommodation.
"This is your home now ... and the two you met, are your superiors. You will talk to them whenever you need advice on your duties ... you will NOT disturb me unless I give you credence. First rule ... talk to me ... and you die. Second rule ... touch anything that you're not supposed to touch ... and you die. Third rule ... try to escape ... and you'll die. Fourth rule ... if you are caught outside without permission ... you WILL die. In fact ... you will have to try very hard to keep yourself alive! Do I make myself understood?" the Drow master interrogates ... as he gazes at the frail form infront of him.
"First rule ... will die.... second ... will die ... third ... will die .... fourth ... will die ..." the young girl mimics downtrodden, peering with blank eyes at the Drow infront of her.
"That is correct ... from now on ... you are to be known as 'Seven' .... 'Seven' is your number .... do I make myself understood?" Master Vrael commands once more in common tongue.
"Seven ... be me ...." the young girl replies in broken Common as she nestles into the dirty mat laid down for her.
"You catch on fast ... you will receive a set of uniforms in the morning ... you will be awakened by my man-servant at 6, sharp! You will get yourself cleaned up, and assemble in the kitchen by 6.30 to help. You will be trained, and you will live for my needs. Or else.....?" The master speaks once more ... his intonation high as if palming a question to the young girl, albeit entirely rhetorical in nature.
"Will die ...." the girl utters once more, her eyes levelled at his feet in quiet supplication to her new owner.
With that he slams the door abruptly and collapses the room into still darkness. The young girl quietly curls into a foetal position, gently rocking back and forth whilst she sat on the mat. 'Is this to be her new life' she ponders within her head? The question is soon erased from her mind as she eradicates what's remains of her hope and dreams. Finding comfort in not aspiring to anything greater than what she had at this moment, as she slowly kills what remains of her wish for freedom. Her damaged psyche soon consorts with the demons within her mind to utterly strip what remains of her soul, and to slowly remove any trace memory of the supple grasses and boundless forests that she experienced mere weeks earlier.
(OOC: Thanks for reading
I hope you're enjoying the story thus far n.n I should have part 5 up in a couple of days. By part 6 and 7 I plan to have a awesome plot twist that will tie everything together and give the story some synchronicity! Thanks again for your dilligent reading!)
