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[A Quick History Lesson]

A Quick History Lesson

I should point out the earth of old is gone. That's right, all gone. Mostly. The planet's still there but technology has swallowed it beneath an endless horizon of skyscrapers, neon lights, and arcology domes. Your whole species knew it was on the brink so they started pushing towards the stars and colonization. Local planets strung things along for a bit. A few thousand 'volunteers' signed up to be frozen and shipped to nearby stars as a cheap alternative to colonists. Really it was a death spiral before your ancestors discovered the Quin Drive.

Quintessence Manifold Drives changed everything. Using a loophole in dark energy physics,  trip of fifty years could be made in four days. Boy were some of those colonial pops unhappy, the ones that were recovered anyway. Once terrans could leave their stellar cradle they tore through the universe like a toddler; grabbing everything in reach, bumping into the furniture, and occasionally spilling something sticky. As much of a mess as that sounds it still fueled a new era of exploration, colonization, and scientific discovery. The old Nation-State system of governments went the way of command line programming as corporations stepped away from buying politicians to buying whole nations.

The king is dead! All hail the Megacorp!

Megacorporations are their own interstellar powers now but back then they were rivals. Rivals with multi-trillion credit budgets and unrestricted weapons research programs. The big colonial boom ground nearly to a halt as hundreds of factions vied for dominance. Eventually someone was going to be crowned king but not before the terran race committed seppuku at the genocide level. The Colonial Wars went well beyond the outer reaches of the terrans and right back home to the core planets. Fate, gods, or just survival instincts must have gotten through because a ceasefire was called after twenty-seven of the bloodiest years in terran history. Personally I think it was some sharp accountancy that saved terrans from extinction. Megacorps hate an unprofitable war.

The second colonial boom only lasted a century and some change, less than half of the first. Most of that time went into rebuilding infrastructures across whole star systems. Ever wonder why terran worlds always seem to have NeoNets installed? Now you know. Still, some more exploring got done, enough to make the universe's worst first contact ever. There are just some things you don't do to the Sidhe.

Just about every other species in known space has lived with magic in some form or another. We elves use it to grow what we need from food to space ships. Dwarves have always loved crafting with their runes. Pookas... 'nuff said. So while just about everyone else knew that magic existed, and the Sidhe existed at the top of the magic ladder, terrans missed out on that vital bit of education. No one in their tech-based society believed in the Fae from their old tales. If you had tried to explain to them what the Sidhe were it's unlikely any terrans would have believed you. The Sidhe are more than just a magically gifted people. They're bound to aspects of the natural world. Lesser Sidhe might be tied to a lake or a mountain while more powerful figures are comets, moons, and even stars. If you think a supernova is cause for alarm then try to imagine a supernova with a personal grudge. Against you. You specifically. Entirely ignorant of all this, the terrans discovered a small planetoid orbiting very tightly around a white dwarf star. And on that little rock they discovered a new metal they dubbed Orichalcum. All the rest of the universe remembered it as the Silver Arm of Airgetlam, the First King of the Sidhe. The old Fae woke from his sleep to find a great pain in his hand and a little ship of terrans flying home with the missing bits. Even if today the Sidhe Courts are ruled by Oberron and Titania, Airgetlam still had enough sway to declare open war. It worked to the terrans' favor that the vassals of the Sidhe went in their stead. Elves, Dwarves, Pookas, Ghoblings, and more rallied behind their stricken lord. The real shocker came when Changelings fought Terrans. Suddenly the idea that maybe the Sidhe were more than a child's bedtime story sounded plausible.

Not everyone enjoyed watching the terrans be pushed to the brink of extinction, again. Among my people rose a pacifist. He plead to Airgetlam on the behalf of all the lives caught up in the war. Stubborn and proud the old Fae might be, but his heart softened at the words. The Sidhe sued for peace with a terran population ready for surrender. The Sidhe had but three demands in keeping with their numerology fetish. The first being the return of all the mined metal taken from Airgetlam's hand. The second was the establishment of the Neautral Zone between the Otherworlds and Terran Space. The third was that the terrans never again commit an act of war against the Sidhe or their vassals. Oberron himself decreed that if any of these tenants were violated then the Sidhe would personally wage the next war. That was a little over two centuries ago and terrans have been pretty well behaved since. Generally speaking.

[R.G.'s Guide for Freelancers: Don't Panic]

R.G.'s Guide for Freelancers: Don't Panic

Hello Terran! You my friend are about to embark on the wild and dangerous journey of a Freelancer. I usually go by my handle R.G. although some prefer Robin. I have the distinct honor of being your helpful host in these travels. If at any point you find yourself to be out of your depth, unduly threatened, or simply unhappy along the way then but think of this as a daydream. It won't save you but I'm told some humans like their delusions. Everyone should have a last request!

What's a Freelancer?

Freelancers are those who've struck out on their own, or maybe in a cadre. Most of the galaxy gets by just fine on politicians, megacorporations, and working nine-to-five jobs with a desk and a placard. For keeping civilization running, that's great. Out on the Verge, that's a quick trip to a shallow grave. Freelancers are the adventurers, the explores, the enforcers, and the innovators that fill in all the little cracks. Most of them spend their careers in the Neutral Zone between Otherworlds and Terran Space. Some opt for the more dangerous opportunities in the Verge. The very best (or the very stupidest if you ask me) try their hand back home against the status quo. It takes a certain mix of anti-socialism, savoir flair, and sheer grit to make it as a Freelancer. Also a big weapons collection helps. Basically if you need a job done, any kind of job, without invoking the powers that be then you need a Freelancer. Finding a Freelancer varies depending on where you are. If you're lucky enough to know a guy that knows a guy, you can hire that way. Some Freelancers go independent and advertise their services publicly. Some of the smarter Freelancers figured out there's strength in numbers so they founded various private security firms across the known worlds. Others will sign on with just about any sort of cutthroat mercenary outfit or even join a pirate crew. Wherever you find them, just remember that Freelancers are generally used to being begged for help then stiffed on the bill. Survival of the fittest means only the best Freelancers get to have a hot meal.

Just Folks
Freelancers can come from any race, any world, and any lifestyle. They usually do too. Their reasons are their own, don't talk about it if you don't want to. Your past isn't nearly as important as what you want on your tombstone. Young freelancers always think they'll get a tombstone. Here's the most common races you'll see among Freelancers. Note the lack of Sidhe and draw your own conclusions.

	Terrans: Your basic humans from old Terra-Firma. These guys come from a culture that's drowning in technology and capitalism. The Megacorps formed a Population Oversight Council to handle the governing matters as a Corporatocracy. Your average Terran doesn't think much about the big picture, a lot of people have worked hard to keep distractions pleantiful and cheap. Every developed Terran world comes with a NeoNet, a kind of wireless planetwide network for their computers. Through it Terrans interact with the world through Augmented Reality (AR) or even a fictional world of Virtual Reality (VR). Terrans have the edge on just about everyone for tech but hand them a magic wand & they'll probably turn themselves into a toad.
	Changelings: Not all humans are Terrans and that's an important distinction. Long before Terrans discovered science & technology their world was visited by the Sidhe. For reasons of their own the Sidhe would take human infants away and leave an elderly Sidhe in the child's place, or so the stories go. Those stories say very little about the children taken to live in Otherworlds so I'll fill in the gaps. Those humans grew to become the workhorse of the Sidhe worlds. Got a dirty job? Changelings are your answer. Need labor for next to nothing? Changelings again. While never outright declared as slaves, Changelings occupied the space somewhere between the bottom caste of society and indentured servants. The state of affairs couldn't hold forever. Through a great deal of sacrifice, dedication, and some well-timed riots the Changelings eventually came to be recognized as full citizens of Otherworlds. They're still mostly scraping the bottom rung of the social ladder, it's hard to compete with longer lived races, which is probably why so many take to being Freelancers, colonists, or outlaws. Don't confuse Changelings with Terrans though. While Terrans have grown up kings of their world with the power of science, Changelings have scrimped and fought with magic for their place in the galaxy. The time's coming when they'll be more than just citizens of other people's nations and start to claim worlds of their own.
	Elves: My people are long-lived and masters of magic. We master other things too. Elven society revolves around the idea of being a pure democratic meritocracy. Every adult elf gets one vote in the assembly. For every science or art they master another vote is granted. Performing a great service to elvenkind is another vote. Making a tremendous discovery is another. Mastering a whole discipline might seem daunting to a Changeling but when you have a lifespan measured in centuries, what's a few decades spent on learning a subject to its fullest. As you can imagine, we elves tend to be known for our philosophy and magic, our magic being Ecomancy. Through the art of Ecomancy we've become the best terraformers in the galaxy. Cities are grown literally from the alien soil and in a mere handful of centuries transform desolate rocks into botanical paradises. Our ships are crafted from living trees to sail on the solarwinds between worlds and they ride the Cálëtië, what you would call Leylines, between the stars. Technology is still too new to us but for culture & understanding look no farther.
	Dwarves: Dwarves have taken to technology the way they take to everything in life, begrudgingly and with their own ideas of how things ought to be. Before Terrans encountered anyone from the Otherworlds, the Dwarves were a people of craftsmen and runic magic. They worked with stone and metal and fire to forge the infrastructure of the Otherworlds. With the advent of science came the Dwarven Industrial Revolution. Workshops dedicated to making a single item were rebuilt overnight into factories that produced copies on the cheap. One would think the Dwarves would just learn to use technology from the Terrans but then one wouldn't know the Dwarves. Where Terran inventions use electricity most Dwarven inventions are steam driven. They learned quickly that fire runes could keep a boiler going indefinitely without the pollution of coal. electrical systems like radios and computers soon had their runic counterparts as the Dwarven Revolution chugged its way steadily forward. It was probably inevitable that they would invent Golems. While many Terrans scoff at the Dwarves as a 'Steampunk' people they still buy Dwarven products. Something of the craftsman spirit carries on even in their factories, ensuring Dwarven goods are the finest you can make. Especially if it's something mechanical.
	Pookas: How can I explain Pookas? Imagine a practical joker has been given the magical ability to shapechange. Now imagine he's a well-meaning anarchist with a like-minded extended family living like space gypsies. Pookas are a constant source of frustration in the Otherworlds to Dwarves or anyone else that likes things done in an orderly fashion. Even Pooka ships refuse to keep to one shape, bending and forming themselves to suit whatever environment they encounter. The Pookas themselves resemble Changelings although always with traits similar to an animal. Some keep ears and a tail. Others will do something inhuman with their eyes. A Pooka's tell reflects a personal choice and says something about who they are, at least to other Pookas. They take great pride in sculpting their 'Public Face' as it's the face they wear when they want to be recognized. People often have a hard time trusting a known Pooka, likely because they live as nomads between worlds seeking new Cálëtië and spy on others in between. It's well known that the Pooka take an interest in knowing other people's secrets for the secrets sake but seldom give their own away. Despite what merchants claim there are no Pooka maps. Anyone wishing to travel by the secret ways of the Pookas must bargain with them. I suggest bargaining fairly for despite their reputation no Pooka in his right mind would violate the rules of good hospitality or a bargain fairly struck. For all their antics, the Pookas are a people who value personal loyalties and family above all else.
	Ghoblings: Terrans call them Goblins which tends to offend the Ghoblings for reasons I've never understood. I can say that if you want to make a purchase of something and you aren't too particular about methods then the Ghobling Clans are your best bet. Most clans roam on ships that, in a good light under favorable conditions, resemble drifting scrap heaps. Magic and technology are bastardized into some kind of off balanced functionality, though no one outside the original clan is likely to get the conflagration working again. Dwarven machines are much prized by the Ghoblings as they blend magic & technology already, saving the Ghoblings the trouble of interfacing the equipment themselves. I've seen ships with bits of thrusters alongside still living elven ship sails. Some of those parts might even have been purchased. Ghobling clans have a well earned reputation for piracy though they can be paid off if you appear too strong to be worth the trouble of a double-cross. Ghobling ports on the other hand have a well earned reputation for being safe harbor to anyone that can pay. As a people, Ghoblings persue commerce with a kind of dreadful single-mindedness that could compete with the Terran Megacorp executives. Among the space faring Ghoblings resources are power and power is prestige. No young Ghobling ever became Clean Boss by saying 'Please' either. In short anything you want the Ghoblings can likely procure, so long as you pay them well and pay damned close attention to the fine print.
	Trolls: Interestingly Trolls are not from the Otherworlds like most races. Instead they evolved on their own outside, for the most part, of Sidhe influence. Trolls appear as great rocky brutes with shaggy hair or maybe even fur but that's evolution's little trick. They're a silicon-based lifeform, hence the rocky hides, and too much direct sunlight or heat makes it hard for them to think and react quickly. Most people mistake this to mean trolls are stupid, which is true until you take the troll somewhere cold. Pleanty of people also think trolls are tied to magic which might still be the case. Everything for rolls is tied to crystals and harmonics and other things I don't really understand. I just know that if you leave it to a troll they'll go on endlessly about the Livingstone holding a part of their lives and Old Masters aspiring to return to this Livingstone. Strange but maybe there's something to it. Troll cities tend to have an almost organic feel to them despite being clearly crafted from crystal. Their ships are useless to any non-trolls but travel just as easily as a Quin Drive once you find a pilot to command her. A troll in a fight makes for a fearsome opponent, a troll in a rage is a force of nature, and yet I've seldom known a people better at listening and waiting. Very down to earth, your trolls.
	Djinn: Someone invented the story of Djinni in bottles, probably the Pooka, so there's a certain amount of disappointment when Terran tourists see a Djinn colony for the first time. The Djinn appear much like Terrans though with maybe a little more copper in the skin and darker hair. Unlike the Terrans though, Djinn are born and grow through magic. Every Djinn begins life as what they call a Jann. Most of their population are Jann, magically gifted but otherwise ordinary mortals. For those who choose to pursue it there are the paths of Marid and Ifrit. Djinn seeking to evolve themselves focus on expanding their ties to magic and fire though their deeds determine the path itself. Djinn who perpetrate selfish and evil deeds eventually grow into Ifrits, creatures of pure magic and malevolent intent. Conversely those of pure hearts eventually grow into Marids, beings that selflessly care for others. Whatever their path, it's said that the Ifrits and Marids can rival the Sidhe themselves in power. Maybe it's a good thing that so many Djinn die before reaching such lofty states.
	Dhampir: Some people call the Dhampir half-vampires but then the universe is full of idiots. The story is that long, long ago a group of Changelings stole secrets of Elven ecomancy in a bid for immortality. Ecomancy isn't intended to pervert the natural order like that so the results were the galaxy's first true vampires. Most of the first coven was hunted down fairly quickly to prevent the spread of that dark art however, it's safe to say enough vampires survived to continue through the millennia since. Every now and then you'll hear rumors of small colonies in the Verge disappearing or sightings of strange ships well outside the usual shipping lanes. Most of what we know about Vampires comes from the few Dhampir that escape. The creation of a vampire involves a combination of ecomancy and alchemy but sometimes things go wrong. Usually this just ends in a messy death although occasionally a Dhampir is produced instead, something not quite a vampire but certainly not a mortal either. Dhampir have many of a vampire's strengths however, they also struggle to control a terrible bloodlust. Vampires consider all Dhampir to be embarrassing abominations and kill them on sight. It's rare to even meet a Dhampir so they're almost certain to never see another like themselves. Add to that a long life of being feared as some kind of monster by other races and it's no small wonder they usually end up Freelancers.

I used to dislike WhiteWolf because its dice pools were, from the start, huge. It also felt too much like railroading because the setting was built directly into the system itself. Do werewolves have to be tragic? Do Tzimesce have to be more intellectual than social? Why can't we win against the Wyrm? There's plenty of things in life to invoke a depression so while I love the lore of WhiteWolf, I've not stuck with a game for long.

My first RPG (Final Fantasy doesn't count. I'm sorry, but it really doesn't) was Advanced Dungeons & Dragons 2nd edition introduced to me by some friends in school. Now that I've carbon dated myself, the games sucked. But I kept playing until I found a game I liked. The DM, while reprehensible as a person, allowed players to do as they liked provided they played it through. Suddenly it was possible to make characters I hadn't considered. A wizard with a theoretical physics degree. A motorcycle riding paladin. An archaeologist with all the skills of an assassin but an aversion to killing. Cookie cutters just aren't nearly as exciting as asking the question 'What if' and roleplaying for me is about those sorts of questions.

So for a story-based system, WhiteWolf gets my respect and admiration. It's built around the simple idea of add a stat to a skill and roll the dice. That's the whole game right there, all of their games. Everything else is just the setting which is why I'm not as avid of a player for their system. I like asking questions.

It would be hard to miss his presence looming behind her as she finished washing herself. Steel settled atop the table freeing his rough hands to gather her hair together. Someone had done this before. Xaek's movements were quick and practiced as he twisted her long locks into a coil atop her head, exposing the elf's supple neck. He could be felt leaning closer as his mane brushed across one shoulder. His voice rumbled against her ear with a hint of warmth. "Remember, excellence is only tolerated. Be more."

His hands slipped down her arms, indulging his fingers to trace along the shape of the archer's muscles until he could take hold of her by her wrists. Xaek drew in a deep breath filled with her clean scent as he leveraged her wrists higher, nose brushing her cheek. The lion eased himself back enough to cross her wrists behind her neck. The length of cord about her waist came undone in one paw while the other broad hand held her wrists in place. It was a simple thing to pass the cord around her throat, working one of the slaver's knots at the back of her neck before the rest of the length wound around her wrists to secure them in place. "That's a hangman's knot. Tug it at your own peril."

Confident she'd not pull too much at his slipknot, the master undid her hair from its perch. He pulled at her locks before separating them out into portions. Deftly he worked the bundles of hair against one another to weave them back together. Once Estina's hair had been worked into a pair of tight braids from her scalp to the floor below Xaek secured his work with a few more bits of binding fiber bitten to the proper length. Not many would expect a swordsman to know enough to braid hair however, Xaek spent enough time replacing the grips of his blades to know the technique. He also took an interest in pampering slaves on occasion with simple attentions. Sadly this was not to be one of those times. Without ceremony he took up his blade from the table and cut the braids free with one neat slice. What was left almost counted as a pixie cut, albeit far from professionally styled.

The sword went back to the table and the ropes of red hair went to Xaek's hand. He let the elf have a moment to register just what he'd taken from her before his arm slipped around her side from behind. His hand rested across one thigh, fingers dipping between her legs. The prickle of claw tips against her inner thigh would be unmistakable while he leaned closer, mane brushing against one of her bound elbows. "Your body, your life, are property of your Master. Never forget that. There are plenty who would take both from you just for sadism's sake."

His hand rose higher along her leg as he spoke, slipping up across her leg as he slipping the arm around her waist. Hardly any effort went into setting the woman on her feet again though that hardly lasted. One hand pushed on her bound wrists to bend her over the edge of what this inn used for a bed. Softer than a chair even if it did leave her hind end exposed to the man. The indignity continued as he used one of the severed braids like a rope, tying one thigh to the bed's foot down low. Not the most secure thing but without hands to untie her, Estina would be staying. The other braid he took to the bed. Master seated himself beside her where she could turn her head to watch. He started to undo one end of the braid, smoothing out the strands of hair while he talked. "You have until your hair grows long again before I sell you. At that time you'll be someone else's problem. If you're good at what you do, chances are you'll be bought at a nice profit by a man that will treasure you. If you are still like this however, you'll likely sell for cheap to the first bastard of the day."

He stopped undoing the braid and used the cord to retie what remained. The master now had her hair worked into a braided handle, a bit long in the grip, with the rest of the hair hanging loose like a flogger. The bed shifted as the Master stood up again, moving behind her. She could feel him draping her own hair across her back, letting the softness slink its way across her skin as he drew it down naked flesh to slip off the curve of her backside. A sound like sharpened silk accompanied the sting of his first strike, a horizontal lash from one cheek to the other. Xaek let her have a moment to drink in the mild pain and gentle warmth before the backhand strike caught her ass. Another moment to savor, this time with the Master's hand reaching down to stroke her. His palm cupped against the shape of her body as he moved against her blushed skin, rubbing away the pain with her Master's touch.

He breathed in the scents of their home while it passed around them. Asil's scent faded some leaving a sense of disappointment beneath the excitement of Asabikeshiinh in his arms. A new scent mixed with it as well, something predatory that made his tail lash and his wings flex. A new face in the house although Asa assured him all were friendly here. The old instincts never really faded. The urge to protect his wife, to drive out threats, never really left him. Other urges vied for attention.

The embers in the fireplace received a log lobbed inexpertly by his curling tail. Flames not only sprang up around it but rolled into a blossom of orange with a rush of air. They hardly needed the heat. The two of them would make any room a furnace if they wished. The fires served to cast flickering shadows across the room mingled with warm orange light. "I don't know Tsu, but it might have been nice to see Mistress. Tell her things went well."

Another kiss followed, one that took its time and savored a chance to be with his mate. Aka pressed his body against hers as he moved to press Asabikeshiinh into the bed below. Hands moved across the curves of her body to lay her out gently. Wings flared for balance as he joined her, planting one hand on the bed beside her head to hold his weight up. The other hand moved to brush back the strands of hair from her face. Fangs nipped at her lower lip giving her a gentle tug in parting. "Such a shame we're left all alone. Might be days before we find ourselves back at work once more."

The storm outside broke with a clap of thunder that shook the rock around them. Wind raged against the mountainside as the heavens opened up to pour down an ocean of rain. Inside the two of them were well removed from the storm, though it could be heard. Once upon a time the sound of thunder and lightning filled Ke'akamai with dread. Now he hardly batted an ear. His body lowered down to brush itself along Asa's as fingers traced down the side of her neck, feeling his way along her collar bone.

Lips parted again as he took another kiss, thrumming with a hungry growl against her mouth. His fingers prickled the tips of feline claws against her side as he combed through her short pelt.

Lady luck has nothing on curiosity. Luck could be fickle in her favor as she lifted you up on a whim just to drop you twice as hard. She kept a rhythm though, a beat that a dancer might keep step to were he clever enough. And that was Lady Luck's lure. The promise that this time it would be different, this time you would beat all the odds, dangled just out of reach like a carrot. Usually from the very stick you were holding. Curiosity on the other hand was just a bitch.

The fox's endless fascination with people was entirely hereditary, he'd not have been conceived otherwise, and right now it clamored for him to play this game out a little farther. It also wanted him to go inspect the ruckus, find three people less than vigilant about their pockets, and strike up a game or two with a few amateur card players lost in delusions of 'winning it big' off a fox that desperately needed his ego knocked back a peg or three. Business before pleasure until you figured how to mix the two. He had places to be now that he hadn't met the stranger behind him but that did nothing to dampen his cheerful reply to Cage. "It's not an unreasonable expectation to ask someone return their rental in the same condition it was originally leased as. All the best Madams keep, in addition to their boys and girls, a few men whose primary hiring traits include barrel-like upper torsos, a habit of bending down to fit through doorways, and an utter lack of compassion when there's been a simple misunderstanding over the lease terms."

He watched her downing the glass. It seemed to be his cue to slip to his feet before she did the same, leaving his own glass unfinished on the bar behind them. Cage's polite excuse to peruse the wears fell on seemingly deaf ears as he matched her stride for stride out of the bar, going so far as to hold the doorway open for her while he verbally wandered without an apparent destination. "Now, that's just assuming we keep the trade to carnal pleasures, and I've nothing against those pleasures however, there's a good deal more to be made in raising the bar so to speak. Everything is in the anticipation more than the deed and it's easier to collect on a suggestion that's been implied rather than stated. Treat your pen-dwellers to a few scalding bathes and some vigorously encouraged training as a waitstaff. Instill in them the virtues of being charming company, delightful to speak to but happy to stand quietly at the ready, and drink serving. You have yourself a lounge that's one dress code away from being -the- place to see and be seen among the more wealthy. And what wealthy person would discuss anything but business?"

Granted the fox left out the bits of his personal fantasy that included facilitating deals in technically neutral waters, trading in the little known tidbits one might overhear by accident, and selling the one thing every person truly wants in business, discretion in tastefully revealing attire. What these slaves went for on their backs he could spin out many times over with the right setting- Perhaps another time. He had things to see to still. "Well, it has been lovely, and I wish you well, Madam Rose."

His bow moved one foot back with a sweep of his arms as though presenting himself in court with a cape to flourish, not bowing to a woman in the slave pens. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Belle and the Beast. Dressed not just to kill, she was attired to show off. Any man with an interest in the softer sex would find it hard not to dream when she wore the gown the same way a cat wore its fur, slinking while standing and inviting a friendly stroke. A brief pang of alarm woke him to reality, she looked very enticing indeed. Any man would be hard pressed not to hand himself on her arm, especially here where freedom hinged on which side of the bars you stood. So if she traveled here unescourted then she knew how to handle herself. Too confident too, had she been here before? The fox mentally marked her off as likely a Mistress of some rather unsettling means especially given how close she stood to the one he labeled 'Beast'.

Humany? Humanesk? Mannish? The inumimi had too many adjectives to be bothered with though in theory the fox might one day assume a similar form, his family being what it was. For now the orangey fellow gathered a sense of something violent. He was still too young to read emotions across the room, at least not without focusing very obviously in public. While guards might object to a blatant display like that, guards were easy to manage because most of them wanted to be somewhere else most of the time. The Belle beside the Beast gave the fox a rare moment to think twice. He knew little about her beyond his own deductions of the moment. Whatever her disposition, people able to sense the use of powers tended to object strongly to the use of powers. A real conundrum in the fox's mind given they needed powers to sense powers. He set aside the paradox for another day and mentally ticked those two as 'people of interest and potential fun'.

The whole glance took but the time of his bow, the fox rising up from down low before Cage. He gave her a parting grin before meandering his way through the crowds, taking his time to pause by the pens. He might be followed still, which might make Cage also followed now that they'd chatted and parted ways. She looked too much like someone accustomed to dark dealings and she'd openly divulged a need for information. Bad luck for her then, the fox was already well into his scheme for leaving the pens without being followed too closely, or at least for leaving without the inconvenience of a knife lodged in his ribs. Step one consisted of finding one of the unbroken slaves near a guard post.

Unbroken slaves had the wonderful charm of hope usually. Hope that they might escape or hope that they might be bought by a kind person, or even a secret abolitionist. The particular quality chosen now was hope's ugly brother, rage. A few well slurred comments and knocks on the bars soon had something with feathers, and the most horrible piercing shriek imaginable, clawing talons at the bars in a spirited effort to disembowel the fox. Add to that a hip flask of whiskey that he poured partly in his mouth but mostly down the front of his shirt and you had the complete transformation from chatty bar goer to disorderly & drunken instigator. The volume increased as the guard shouted for quiet, the fox shouted suggestions on where the guard could stick his baton, and the slave just shouted in general. Undoubtedly the fox had more witticisms to slur but his monologue was ended with an enthusiastic escort out the door and a brief liaison with gravity that ended with his head down in the beach sand.

All in all, not bad for a day's hard work. The fox picked himself up to brush off the sand, discarding his liquored shirt in the process. Nothing made for bad company like departed spirits. Hands, and paper, in pockets the fox began to stride down the beach away from the side entry, tail swishing behind to keep time with his whistled tune. Try as he might, his mind continually returned to questions about the two women and that humanish man. Left unsated, curiosity really was a bitch.

Xaek removed his hand from beneath her chin to snap a finger out against her nose, a quick sharp sting befitting something one might do to a child. "You don't understand, but you will. You're smart enough to play along."

One hand pushed on her shoulder to turn her away from him. Fingers tugged at the knot behind her wrists. It looked like a gnarled thing but some trick of the Master's ropework let him undo it with a single hand. The other rested heavily on her shoulder. "When you address me, it is always as your Master. That is why every good slave always has the last word of any conversation. She always says 'Yes Master' when he is done speaking."

Hands freed but still with a cord around her wait he pushed her towards the kettle, tossing a cloth at the floor by her feet. As to the lion himself he sat down on the edge of a chair and pulled his sword from the table. A flick of his wrist brought the heavy blade's flatside against her backside, just hard enough to sting and make a sound that seemed to amuse him. After that his steel rested across his lap like a favorite pet. "Clean yourself. Don't give me cause to put hands on you again, slave."

The air around them whipped up into a frenzy even after she broke their kiss. Salt from his fur and her tears ignited in streaks of violet & scarlet that whipped into the cyclone around them. His arms tightened to press her into his chest as if anyone might take her from his arms. The ground blackened into a tidy circle at their feet.

His wings snapped open casting aside the fire in a burst of firework light. Though he stopped burning the air around them still wavered. His hug relaxed though he neglected to set her down again. His voice rumbled with a soft growl and the faint scent of cloves, a habit he'd picked up in parts unknown. "Asabikeshiinh."

The smile he showed flashed nearly as brightly as he had. His tail lashed behind him as he started to walk forward again. Wings folded neatly against his back like a leathery cape. Something other than his eyes must have guided him since he refused to look away from her. Nothing quite felt as good as coming home.

"What have I missed, besides you?"

Time worked to the Master's side, always. An infuriating amount of patience could go a long way. In this case he let her speak her mind while he carried the bucket to the fire. There he poured the water into the kettle and swung the metal arm over the fire to start heating it. When the master turned back it was with the silvery sound of steel slowly withdrawing from its scabbard. The naked blade gleamed in the firelight as he set it down on a table nearby, both within her sight and his easy reach. The empty scabbard he placed on the table behind the blade. Heavy steps carried the Master around her in a slow circle, tail brushing a tufted tip against the back of one knee in passing. When Xaek came into her line of sight again, it was to deliver another backhand.

"Never tell me what I do not understand, slave." No heat or anger touched his voice. He might have been casually discussing accountancy instead of leaning down to pull her up by a handful of her hair again until she either stood or dangled with toes only on the ground.

"I will speak as I please." Another slap that would have set a man on the ground, the hand on her hair twisting his grip a little tighter while he did it. "You will speak when spoken to unless permitted otherwise."

The last broadside from his hand accompanied the release of the hand in her hair, letting her stand or fall under her own power. "I owe you nothing, slave. I paid for you out of pity, not desire. You will be eating food I pay for living under a roof I pay for and if you have anything it is because I will give it to you. You are owned and own nothing. Expect nothing from a Master, not even your next breath."

His hand struck out again like a viper, this time moving to catch her beneath the chin with his grip. His thumb moved to stroke across one stinging cheek while his eyes bored back into hers, searching for something possibly. Gold light played through the Master's eyes briefly, clearly no trick of the fireplace this time. "Tell me if you understand what I have said, slave."

Xaek hardly batted an eye out her outburst, she was fresh to the collar after all. One hand caught her by hair and wound it into his fist. The other open hand arced through the air to connect with the bound woman's ear. Though open handed it was a blow Xaek had used to floor the occasional freeman when someone misspoke but posed too little of a threat to require the big cat's fist. Xaek's grip on the elf's hair ensured she would stay on her feet, or hang at the appropriate height depending on her preferences. Ever patient, the master waited with open hand upraised for her next protest before he struck again in the same manner. Never smiling or scowling, he stood over her like a man with a chore to do and a dull chore at that.

Only when she stopped moving her mouth would he stop raining down the blows. He still retained his hold on her hair, all the better to twist her around to face the next sale, apparently of someone she knew. Xaek leaned down behind her while he kept her face pointed towards her friend. Hot breath curled against the side of her neck as he spoke in patient tones with a voice like distant thunder. "You are a slave, property. If you want to survive you will learn the rules, you will obey the rules. If you do not, I will return you here where you will be sold like your friend in all probability to someone that takes great pleasure in your painful death. The only choice a slave ever has is whether or not she will accept her new life. Choose."

Xaek made no movement to leave or showed signs he wished to be elsewhere. He stood watching the rest of the auction as one by one people were paraded up before the throngs then sold off like any other merchandise. All the while Xaek kept his hold of the elf, even cupping a hand beneath her jaw as needed to ensure she watched as every one she'd known in the pens met her same fate. Some were fawned over by men with obvious lechery in mind while others found themselves shackled into a gang of slaves bound for hard labor. One slave cried out as her new wolf master bit her shoulder, for reasons probably best not dwelt upon.

Once the show completed Xaek turned to leave with his girl in tow. He never released his hold on her hair, managing her like a dog on a short leash. His height helped some but his habit of walking with his arms at his sides still put her head lower than comfortable, a kind of stoop that required her to hasten and match his pace, or find out the hard way he would not stop for a stumbling slave.

Their destination appeared to be one of the cleaner inns in the city featuring things like stone floors instead of rushes and glasses wiped with a mostly clean dish rag. Xaek left a coin and instructions with the proprietor for water to be drawn up to his room before he ushered the elf on to her next challenge, stairs. The same pitiless care she received in the streets also helped her up the stairs by way of her scalp. Once they reached Xaek's room, a single chamber with a fireplace, bed, and dresser, the Master pushed her into the room ahead of him, nudging the door shut behind him with a foot.

"Your first lesson today. A slave owns nothing and is nothing," he said while grabbing a shoulder to turn her away from him. He wasted no time in simply tearing her rags off her body, tossing their unwashed stench into the fire. Xaek could live in truly inhospitable conditions comfortably, but only when he had good reason. Here in civilization he refused to tolerate an unclean slave or her pen rags. "Right now you have bindings and a smart ear because that is what you've earned from your Master today. You've been bought. You watched the others bought as well. From this point on you will receive from me depending on how pleased I am with you, so I will tell you now."

Naked and bound she would feel a tug on her shoulder as he turned her to face him. THe lion's head lowered to meet her eyes with his. The pale amber of his eyes showed flecks of gold, perhaps a trick of the light, and his voice lowered to a growl that could almost be felt. "When next you deceive me, it will hurt you."

A knock at the door announced their visitor though Xaek remained still, holding her gaze a moment longer before lifting to his feet and turning to answer the door. A bucket of water and a towel passed into the Master's hands before he shut the door again, latching it as he turned to deal with the slave.

Xaek had a list of things he detested. His response was usually to quote the Gorean scrolls or something else written by long dead scholars to prove his point, then wash his hands of the business. In the case of something not just detestable but unforgivable he had years of expertise on the battlefield to make his point. Every once in a long while though, it proved wiser to tolerate someone otherwise intolerable. Hence the man standing to Xaek's right.

The fox's fur alternated between inky blackness and an off white like snow at night. He seemed to be trying for a particular style with the leather kilt wrapped around his hips and fishnet shirt doing nothing to cover a swordsman's physique. There were enough armors along his fingers to almost make a pair of gauntlets. Twin tails lashed behind the dark man though he smiled like someone faintly amused at another's discomfort. Given his picks, Xaek wouldn't have bothered to accompany the man to the auction.

"Why the diversion, Su'var? I'd imagine you have enough slave to occupy anyone's tastes for some time," the big cat rumbled with arms folded over his chest. He watched Estina pulled up to the platform, bound and sacked like any other untrained slave. The fact that she was among the firsts put on block told the slaver not to expect much more from this Auction House. Good Auctioneers usually opened with something grand to get the crowd excited then sold off their cheap merchandise in the fervor until it was time for the grand finale. Most of Xaek's attention moved with his ears, catching snipets of what occurred around him with particular interest to his companion.

"All business and no pleasure makes Jack a dull boy, Xaek. Besides, you never know when you'll find a diamond in the rock. That one, for example. Elven I'm sure. You don't see their like here much, and it doesn't hurt that she's healthy looking. I bet Varno rips her shirt off." The fox actually licked his lips while he watched, entirely engrossed in his entertainment. "Ah, there it goes. He does like to give us a show."

The fox's ears flicked in anticipation as she brought in meager sums, the expected bids for an untrained girl. Eventually one metal shod hand raised to draw attention. "I bid ten gold on the wench."

Whatever Xaek thought of his companion's bid, his face remained an impassive mask. His tail kept itself tightly coiled around the big cat's waist like a fuzzy belt while he watched. Ten was a bit towards the high end for a slave like that. The fox beside him likely would claim her, and the thought of what likely would transpire afterwards rested on Xaek's mind like a bad itch. He needed the other man's cooperation but leaving him to his amusements was more than the cat could stand. "I bid fifteen."

One eyebrow raised on the fox as he glanced up to Xaek "Really? If you need your floors swept so badly I'm sure I can loan you one of my boys."

"It is no consequence," said the lion with a bored shrug of one shoulder. "I have no shortage of coin and it would be a waste to travel so far without a souvenir to take home. If you must have her though I will not bid anymore. Her price by now will be more than market value though so please accept my apologies if I've overstepped your hospitality."

No one else seemed prepared to top that bid, even for a shirtless elf maiden, though that didn't stop Varno tried every trick he knew to whip the audience into topping Xaek. The bid closed with Xaek the winner of a slightly overpriced girl.

"Seems the wench is all yours. More interesting than a post card I suppose," said the fox with a grin. His grin seemed to encompass a world of leers despite being such a small thing. "You've your purchase to attend though and no head girl with you so let us reconvene on the morrow. We can haggle out the details of passage then, if you're feeling rested enough in the morning."

"As you say then, Su'var. I will be there."

The crowd made no impediment to the fox, no one seemed to want to risk touching him. Xaek on the other hand simply strode towards the buyer's side of the stage. It was everyone else's choice if they wanted to stand in his way or safely step aside. Manacled and wearing little more than the rags about her waist, Estina did not present one with the best of images. Xaek said nothing as he took her by one elbow, pulling it behind her back as the first manacle was unlocked. They'd keep her irons here which is why Xaek withdrew a length of slaver's binding fibre from his belt, just the thing to secure a slave's wrists to the small of her back. Not content to merely tie her hands together, Xaek's knot would also loop the cord around her waist before lashing her hands in place. Unfortunately for the elf, he seemed to know precisely what he was doing.

The skiff bounced off the top of each swell now, slowing briefly. Ke'akamai tugged one of his ropes to angle the sail as cool air rushed past him into the gathering storm at his back. Once he'd sailed far from home on a boat never intended for the deep water and found such a storm. He'd meant to find an end back then and in a way he had. His old life vanished with Asil's collar and Asabikeshiinh's kindness. Once the storms had dragged him back to the night he drowned, now this one sped him home, his true home. He couldn't howl but Ke'akamai could whoop out a long call that sang across the waves. As his skiff angled into the wind he gathered speed and curved his way, skipping wave to wave, towards the island ahead and home.

His blaze of light trailed long behind the sailor now, curling to either side as he flapped his leathery wings for a few anxious beats. The feline knew every trick there was to his boat yet nothing would make it arrive any faster. The surf curled up beneath his hull before much longer and the sailor leaned back against the stern with one hand to the rigging. The craft proved light enough to tilt up by himself just before it came down, skidding across sandy wash and up onto the beach. Aka hit the ground running, snatching up another rope in passing to haul his craft safely beyond high tide's reach. His wings blazed bright like a forge as they beat against the oncoming stormwinds, pulling at the air to help him drag the skiff all the faster.

The wind whipped against the rigging before Aka finished securing his craft. He should have walked straight to his mistress then, or walked really. Instead he crouched before making a reckless leap into the night air. Wings beat back against the winds until he could catch the draft. His body angled to let it carry him up as his whole body ignited with firefly embers that danced on the tips of his fur and trailed behind him like stardust. The display of lights wove back and forth briefly like a kite cut loose before swooping down on the island.

Ke'akamai's arms stretched out ahead of him as he landed at speed, feet running to keep pace with his momentum. He stooped down to sweep Asabikeshiinh in his arms, paws kicking up dust beneath him as he tried to balance, stop, and kiss her all at once without dropping the poor woman. His wings spread wide to shift with his balance until they came to a rest, then slowly curled in around the two like a darkened leather cape. Inside his body's heat danced along his chest and little flames tickled Asa's form in turn. Lips parted to wrap around hers as weeks of separation, distance, and longing came crashing in like a wave across the shores. Aka might have forgotten to breath, or let her stand on her own feet, for just a moment before a deep thrumming growl rumbled up in his chest. The sailor's version of a purr could be felt just touching him.

There was nothing better than coming home.

The fox's eyes darted south when Cage shifted her thighs. A brief tension and a too still pause of someone watching for the dagger, so to speak. It lasted hardly a moment as he slipped effortlessly back into his relaxed manner and let his eyes crawl back up Cage's body, a plausible cover for a moment that never happened. His smile showed through as naturally as the sun peeking over a cloud. "I'd always thought shrewdness was half the appeal of womenfolk, so long as they keep pace. That's the problem with pals from pens. They get the routine ingrained, kills the creativity. Replaces ambition with fear. Now were I king for a day, I'd work out an incentive program. Some profit sharing and standards of treatment. Turn this little sea rock of slaves into a sailor's forbidden paradise."

His tail stirred behind him the closer he leaned to her, as if confiding these half-baked schemes for a sea-based brothel might be their private little secret. "Truth be told everyone who's anyone knows the real deals start over drinks because everyone gets thirsty, so soon er or later everyone comes here." The fox sat up as he knocked back his drink, sliding the glass across for a refill.

"Patience is a virtue, but it helps to have company when you're waiting for just the right person to chance a visit." The fox turned about on his stool to lean back against the bartop, both to better spy what the commotion was on the floor and keep an eye on Cage. Appearing to be distracted by her was essential to being another frivolous fox. Meandering among the pens was another good trick. He made a mental note to himself to check just what caused such a ruckus. One man's scream might turn into his opportunity. Until then, he had to wait for his contact.

"What about you though? You don't look like you're here to buy. If anything you look like you could charge for the pleasure, if you were that sort. Just passing through on business I take it?" He paid the bar's new arrival no attention at all, why should he? The old cat looked worn and faded by the sea. Whoever the stranger might be he kept himself wrapped up in a ragged cloak beneath a battered captain's hat. The gruff sound of his voice called for rum as he sat down, paying the fox equal amounts of attention despite sitting next to the man. Hardly anyone would think to watch closely as a folded bit of paper exchanged hands between the strangers without either acknowledging the other. That bit of paper seemed to vanish with a twist of the fox's wrist while his eyes paid Cage compliments over his smiles.

Aliases: Jules Reynard, Sabre, Cackleblink, Aelfwyn, Tobias von Khaler
Gender: Male
Age: 22?
Body Type: Lean
Height: 6'1" Most of the time
Hair: Vulpine Black
Eyes: Old Dollar Green

The rest is here. http://www.rprepository.com/site.php?char=75663&page=167961

He wore his fox form today. You couldn't miss with a classic. That and foxes went a dime a dozen, literally in the case of slave pens. Those made for a good way to part money from fools, but only if you were the house. The fox in question, he decidedly wasn't of the house though he was of the group needing coin. In honor of the old adage that one should spend money to make money, his day began in the bar with a tab and scotch. Tabs could be put off until later, giving him time to think and nurse his brief pleasure. And then she arrived.

One blackened mitt reached out to cover Cage's money, sliding it back towards her with a call to the bartender, "Add her to my tab."

"Cost of savoring a lovely lady's company. Unavoidable but willingly paid," he said with a hint of a grin. Fingers returned to the fox's own glass, lifting it for a sip, while eyes peered at her from the corner. He could easily pass for any other denizen of the isles, dressed in leather trousers and a tunic of dark green silk. Just enough of it parted over his breast to give a hint of his mark without revealing all.

"Though if you'd prefer the bottle and silence, I'll not hold it against you. You wouldn't be the first here with business to keep to herself."

The spray caught Ke'akamai full in the face though it did nothing to slow him. His skiff crested every roll of the deep blue with a bounce as its master leaned to catch the wind. Sails billowed ahead and wings unfurled though the fisher's leathery span would likely give nothing more to his speed. A man could dream. He dreamt of his long awaited return day and night. A personal goal soon to become a personal torture. Now as the stars began to shimmer into the sky with mother fire's setting he caught sight of an edge to the horizon, the smallest of changes yet one that gladdened him.

Land.

Wings burned brighter as the sun sank lower. Behind his racing skiff trailed firefly sparks of golden and orange making the lone sailor out to be a distant comet bobbing across the waves. Wings beat down against the spray to throw up greater swirls of lights as the embers fanned to either side. The nearer to land he drew the darker the night became, and all the brighter he shone. A lone star streaking like an arrow through the black beneath a sky filling with its own twinkling lights.

http://www.rprepository.com/site.php?char=76345

I tend to change out names from time to time so feel free to use what fits your tongue best. I know some people feel bothered by this but it's my prerogative. What would we be without our quirks?

I'm here for what I suspect are the same reasons you are. I love a good story. It's a part of who we are as humans to communicate in stories. Think about it. What do people talk about over coffee? What does nearly everyone at a party have to tell once the introductions are passed? What do guests always bring to talkshows? We live on stories every day and I'm no different. So you'll find me here and about looking for another good story because at the end of the day every RP is just one more small piece of the larger narrative.

As to the subject of myself, I'm sure you'll pick up things as we go along. Predictably I enjoy RPGs outside the forum, tabletop included. If you ever find yourself looking for an extra edge on your own game, I highly recommend you investigate Roll20.net as it's been an indispensable tool for me. It's versatile enough to run a homebrewed game system at that. Beyond dice rolling I've partaken in the Borderlands franchise, Elder Scrolls, Myst, Dragon Age, Mass Effect, Space Engineers, and Warframe. By far though the best RPG I've played is Wolf Among Us. Books include the likes of Terry Pratchett, Jim Butcher, Illona Andrews, C.S. Lewis, Mark Twain, Barbara Hambly, and the occasional Neil Gaiman. Mention of any of the above will likely result in me babbling at length, ad nausea. You've been warned. So that's mostly me, a gamer and a reader.

Find me in the Discord chat, I'm usually idling there when free.