The chatbox has been hidden for this page. It will reopen upon refresh. To hide the CBox permanently, select "Permanently Toggle Cbox" in your profile User Settings.
This chatbox is hidden. To reopen, edit your User Settings.
Away from the heart of Alexandria, from the normal civilians and the irritating gazes of guards, a meeting was set. A meeting that irritated Akila to no end. This little corner of the desert was not unfamiliar to the girl. A hidden black market just outside the prying eyes of the city saw many of her wares and people captured from her travels. What was done after she offloaded the items, Akila didn’t much care. But it was a convenient spot, easy access to the ocean, and not far from the city center should she instead choose to sail the Nile. And there were items here of interest to the girl at times too.
But not today. Today there was an annoying brat.
You’re short. That was what her first mate, Khalid, had told the slaver. It was a new man, one that the crew had never encountered before. That was the first warning sign things would go awry. He was young, cocky, and clearly inexperienced. Probably took over after the last man in his position ‘died.’ But he was an idiot, and Akila had no patience for idiots.
“We pay for the quality of your wares. Look how the women are lacking,” He did not shy away from Khalid, despite the man being a whole head taller than him. The kid felt safe with his hired guards with overly expensive armor and a shiny new weapon at his hip. This was such a waste of her time.
To the side in cages were slaves, these ones captured from lands to the east. Women were crying, holding their children for dear life. Akila just wanted them to shut up. She just wanted her fucking money and to be off. Gods fucking dammit she had other shit to do than to listen to this guy try to negotiate.
Khalid’s face remained stoic as it always was. The tall, muscled man just looked at the worm in front of him. “You’re. Short.”
The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Actually… we’ll just be tak-”
Akila shoved her khopesh straight into his stomach, the hook catching his guts, spilling out to the sand as she ripped it back. All at once, his guards surged forward and Akila side stepped one slash, but another cut into her arm. Akila sneered, but now her men was in the fight. Slashing and stabbing. Khalid shoved another that was going towards Akila away, driving his sword to his neck, the pathetic man choking on his own blood.
Akila was bored. She didn’t even care about the bodies hitting the sand. This was just a gigantic annoyance and now she had to deal with the crying people for longer and find a new person to offload these slaves to in Egypt. Gods, she needed a drink.
The market had paused, watching the quick battle, before resuming what they were doing as soon as it was over. If this were anywhere else, people would be running and screaming for guards. But those that knew of this little alcove were murderers, thieves, and schemers. This was nothing to write home about.
“Load them back on,” Akila said to Khalid who nodded, returning to the slaves. Akila’s dark gaze went to another one of her contacts, patiently waiting while the idiot was digging his own grave. Akila took off the cloth she used to keep her hair back and the sweat off her brow, allowing the locks to tumble free in a wild mess. She tied the cloth tight against her bleeding arm, using her teeth for the extra strength. “You’re next.” She said through her half muffled mouth.
He handed her a sack of coins and in turn, her crew handed him a chest filled with various different flowers. At least something came from this shitty day. Akila swore, Alexandria fell by the wayside in the past years. Since that fucking library started getting built and brought more scholarly types to the city, the quality contacts she once had dwindled. Everyone is out to make a quick buck, and no one actually stopped to think anymore. What a waste.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
“You’re short.”
Away from the heart of Alexandria, from the normal civilians and the irritating gazes of guards, a meeting was set. A meeting that irritated Akila to no end. This little corner of the desert was not unfamiliar to the girl. A hidden black market just outside the prying eyes of the city saw many of her wares and people captured from her travels. What was done after she offloaded the items, Akila didn’t much care. But it was a convenient spot, easy access to the ocean, and not far from the city center should she instead choose to sail the Nile. And there were items here of interest to the girl at times too.
But not today. Today there was an annoying brat.
You’re short. That was what her first mate, Khalid, had told the slaver. It was a new man, one that the crew had never encountered before. That was the first warning sign things would go awry. He was young, cocky, and clearly inexperienced. Probably took over after the last man in his position ‘died.’ But he was an idiot, and Akila had no patience for idiots.
“We pay for the quality of your wares. Look how the women are lacking,” He did not shy away from Khalid, despite the man being a whole head taller than him. The kid felt safe with his hired guards with overly expensive armor and a shiny new weapon at his hip. This was such a waste of her time.
To the side in cages were slaves, these ones captured from lands to the east. Women were crying, holding their children for dear life. Akila just wanted them to shut up. She just wanted her fucking money and to be off. Gods fucking dammit she had other shit to do than to listen to this guy try to negotiate.
Khalid’s face remained stoic as it always was. The tall, muscled man just looked at the worm in front of him. “You’re. Short.”
The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Actually… we’ll just be tak-”
Akila shoved her khopesh straight into his stomach, the hook catching his guts, spilling out to the sand as she ripped it back. All at once, his guards surged forward and Akila side stepped one slash, but another cut into her arm. Akila sneered, but now her men was in the fight. Slashing and stabbing. Khalid shoved another that was going towards Akila away, driving his sword to his neck, the pathetic man choking on his own blood.
Akila was bored. She didn’t even care about the bodies hitting the sand. This was just a gigantic annoyance and now she had to deal with the crying people for longer and find a new person to offload these slaves to in Egypt. Gods, she needed a drink.
The market had paused, watching the quick battle, before resuming what they were doing as soon as it was over. If this were anywhere else, people would be running and screaming for guards. But those that knew of this little alcove were murderers, thieves, and schemers. This was nothing to write home about.
“Load them back on,” Akila said to Khalid who nodded, returning to the slaves. Akila’s dark gaze went to another one of her contacts, patiently waiting while the idiot was digging his own grave. Akila took off the cloth she used to keep her hair back and the sweat off her brow, allowing the locks to tumble free in a wild mess. She tied the cloth tight against her bleeding arm, using her teeth for the extra strength. “You’re next.” She said through her half muffled mouth.
He handed her a sack of coins and in turn, her crew handed him a chest filled with various different flowers. At least something came from this shitty day. Akila swore, Alexandria fell by the wayside in the past years. Since that fucking library started getting built and brought more scholarly types to the city, the quality contacts she once had dwindled. Everyone is out to make a quick buck, and no one actually stopped to think anymore. What a waste.
“You’re short.”
Away from the heart of Alexandria, from the normal civilians and the irritating gazes of guards, a meeting was set. A meeting that irritated Akila to no end. This little corner of the desert was not unfamiliar to the girl. A hidden black market just outside the prying eyes of the city saw many of her wares and people captured from her travels. What was done after she offloaded the items, Akila didn’t much care. But it was a convenient spot, easy access to the ocean, and not far from the city center should she instead choose to sail the Nile. And there were items here of interest to the girl at times too.
But not today. Today there was an annoying brat.
You’re short. That was what her first mate, Khalid, had told the slaver. It was a new man, one that the crew had never encountered before. That was the first warning sign things would go awry. He was young, cocky, and clearly inexperienced. Probably took over after the last man in his position ‘died.’ But he was an idiot, and Akila had no patience for idiots.
“We pay for the quality of your wares. Look how the women are lacking,” He did not shy away from Khalid, despite the man being a whole head taller than him. The kid felt safe with his hired guards with overly expensive armor and a shiny new weapon at his hip. This was such a waste of her time.
To the side in cages were slaves, these ones captured from lands to the east. Women were crying, holding their children for dear life. Akila just wanted them to shut up. She just wanted her fucking money and to be off. Gods fucking dammit she had other shit to do than to listen to this guy try to negotiate.
Khalid’s face remained stoic as it always was. The tall, muscled man just looked at the worm in front of him. “You’re. Short.”
The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Actually… we’ll just be tak-”
Akila shoved her khopesh straight into his stomach, the hook catching his guts, spilling out to the sand as she ripped it back. All at once, his guards surged forward and Akila side stepped one slash, but another cut into her arm. Akila sneered, but now her men was in the fight. Slashing and stabbing. Khalid shoved another that was going towards Akila away, driving his sword to his neck, the pathetic man choking on his own blood.
Akila was bored. She didn’t even care about the bodies hitting the sand. This was just a gigantic annoyance and now she had to deal with the crying people for longer and find a new person to offload these slaves to in Egypt. Gods, she needed a drink.
The market had paused, watching the quick battle, before resuming what they were doing as soon as it was over. If this were anywhere else, people would be running and screaming for guards. But those that knew of this little alcove were murderers, thieves, and schemers. This was nothing to write home about.
“Load them back on,” Akila said to Khalid who nodded, returning to the slaves. Akila’s dark gaze went to another one of her contacts, patiently waiting while the idiot was digging his own grave. Akila took off the cloth she used to keep her hair back and the sweat off her brow, allowing the locks to tumble free in a wild mess. She tied the cloth tight against her bleeding arm, using her teeth for the extra strength. “You’re next.” She said through her half muffled mouth.
He handed her a sack of coins and in turn, her crew handed him a chest filled with various different flowers. At least something came from this shitty day. Akila swore, Alexandria fell by the wayside in the past years. Since that fucking library started getting built and brought more scholarly types to the city, the quality contacts she once had dwindled. Everyone is out to make a quick buck, and no one actually stopped to think anymore. What a waste.
The slaver's market wasn't always Nem's duty to peruse, but in Alexandria, he took it upon himself to visit. The province of his birth and the centre of some of the circus' more... lucrative operations, it was his pleasure to flaunt the wealth and power of the Tempest of Set even as it was back on the rise from an age of decay. He'd taken the mantle of ringmaster just the year before, but the coffers had begun to swell already, the word coursing through Egypt that a new ringmaster had taken the reigns and was putting a tired behemoth back on the path to power. The circus was still laden with rot, from old families that needed to be pruned, to incompetent slaves that needed to be broken and worked to the bone...
Replacing the incompetent is always a pleasure. The slaves from Alexandria are some of the more diverse ones.
It wasn't about quantity for Amenemhat. If he wanted to purchase cheap labour by the dozen, he could find the slaver's markets that bordered on Momborah, for they always found purchases there. No, he sought after quality. Fresh meat from different corners of the world from which he could find the appropriate cuts to properly service the needs he had. While the bulk of his labour force was remnants of Momborah mass purchases that Somgi'd made every half-decade, there were the diamonds in the rough, the useful and the selected that rose above their station to become something altogether more... beneficial.
Lapis, Feiyan, Lihua...
The man had his moments of clarity. It was the closest he'd come to admitting any kind of value from the tenure of Somgi of Cairo, and he left it at that, pursuant to the needs of his circus and looking towards the future. Amenemhat crossed through the sand, donning the pleated skirts of his favoured shendyt, toned brightly so as to reflect the sun and heat away from him. It wasn't a terribly long trek to the encampment, and while one might take a camel or horse, Amenemhat walked. He walked, but one of his camels joined him on the journey, carrying his possessions. Deeply, the man valued the striking figure that he presented, using the trek as both a means to reflect and an obstacle for his muscled form to overcome. When he arrived, he found the scene of a khopesh impaling the stomach of a familiar man.
Interesting...
There was no anger or frustration, nor lamenting the loss of a business associate. Power decided everything in this world, and if a man couldn't protect himself from the impending doom he faced... then his blood deserved to coat the blazing sands of Egypt. He watched in fascination as the striking figure of an Egyptian woman was engaged in combat, several on her side and in opposition. Conflict was the life's blood of the world, and he saw no reason for him to join in on either side. There was no fear, only intrigue. Each splatter of blood was his sovereign, Set, reaping the bounty of sacrifice. Each scream of agony was music to Amenemhat's ear, particularly when burning sand met the faces of fallen men.
Groans of pain, followed by the haunting stillness of it all once the task was done. It seemed they'd been in the middle of a negotiation, and while Amenemhat didn't hear the conversation, the result was obvious. Clearly, the merchant had made a mistake, one severe enough to cost him his life. But, if Nem's scrutinizing eye meant anything, he suspected the woman had much to do with it. By the commands she balked out and her general demeanor, she was the leader, a curious thing in it of itself, but Amenemhat knew that actual power had no restrictions. He would consider himself a fool if he bought into the notion of superiority having anything to do with one's genitals. After all, most of the performers beneath him were female.
Their talents were without limit.
"You're next."
Oh?
Amenemhat was captivated by the scene presented to him, a man wuivering in the wake of bloody slaughter, handing the woman a sack filled with coins. She seemed an extortionist, or a vagrant, perhaps a bandit making her way throughout. It was a pity that she destroyed this establishment, for he had purchases to make. But, he'd come so far and none of these men struck Amenemhat with any sort of fear. The woman... well, she struck him with curiosity, instead.
"Seeing as you've killed my contact," he began, letting an easy smile cast upon his lips. Amenemhat stopped the camel behind him, resting his back against the beast's body. He didn't draw closer. It was foolish and, certainly, he felt no need for his sandaled feet to be sullied by some vagrant corpse's blood.
"I'd wait on loading those slaves back up. I'd like to have a look," he noted. This woman was dangerous, acting on an impulse of murder after slight disrespect. But, that did not equate to killing without a motive. Amenemhat was not a foolish man, but he saw in this stranger, as he had in many others before her, the signs of someone that could prove useful to him.
Draw closer, murderess. Let's see what you are.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
The slaver's market wasn't always Nem's duty to peruse, but in Alexandria, he took it upon himself to visit. The province of his birth and the centre of some of the circus' more... lucrative operations, it was his pleasure to flaunt the wealth and power of the Tempest of Set even as it was back on the rise from an age of decay. He'd taken the mantle of ringmaster just the year before, but the coffers had begun to swell already, the word coursing through Egypt that a new ringmaster had taken the reigns and was putting a tired behemoth back on the path to power. The circus was still laden with rot, from old families that needed to be pruned, to incompetent slaves that needed to be broken and worked to the bone...
Replacing the incompetent is always a pleasure. The slaves from Alexandria are some of the more diverse ones.
It wasn't about quantity for Amenemhat. If he wanted to purchase cheap labour by the dozen, he could find the slaver's markets that bordered on Momborah, for they always found purchases there. No, he sought after quality. Fresh meat from different corners of the world from which he could find the appropriate cuts to properly service the needs he had. While the bulk of his labour force was remnants of Momborah mass purchases that Somgi'd made every half-decade, there were the diamonds in the rough, the useful and the selected that rose above their station to become something altogether more... beneficial.
Lapis, Feiyan, Lihua...
The man had his moments of clarity. It was the closest he'd come to admitting any kind of value from the tenure of Somgi of Cairo, and he left it at that, pursuant to the needs of his circus and looking towards the future. Amenemhat crossed through the sand, donning the pleated skirts of his favoured shendyt, toned brightly so as to reflect the sun and heat away from him. It wasn't a terribly long trek to the encampment, and while one might take a camel or horse, Amenemhat walked. He walked, but one of his camels joined him on the journey, carrying his possessions. Deeply, the man valued the striking figure that he presented, using the trek as both a means to reflect and an obstacle for his muscled form to overcome. When he arrived, he found the scene of a khopesh impaling the stomach of a familiar man.
Interesting...
There was no anger or frustration, nor lamenting the loss of a business associate. Power decided everything in this world, and if a man couldn't protect himself from the impending doom he faced... then his blood deserved to coat the blazing sands of Egypt. He watched in fascination as the striking figure of an Egyptian woman was engaged in combat, several on her side and in opposition. Conflict was the life's blood of the world, and he saw no reason for him to join in on either side. There was no fear, only intrigue. Each splatter of blood was his sovereign, Set, reaping the bounty of sacrifice. Each scream of agony was music to Amenemhat's ear, particularly when burning sand met the faces of fallen men.
Groans of pain, followed by the haunting stillness of it all once the task was done. It seemed they'd been in the middle of a negotiation, and while Amenemhat didn't hear the conversation, the result was obvious. Clearly, the merchant had made a mistake, one severe enough to cost him his life. But, if Nem's scrutinizing eye meant anything, he suspected the woman had much to do with it. By the commands she balked out and her general demeanor, she was the leader, a curious thing in it of itself, but Amenemhat knew that actual power had no restrictions. He would consider himself a fool if he bought into the notion of superiority having anything to do with one's genitals. After all, most of the performers beneath him were female.
Their talents were without limit.
"You're next."
Oh?
Amenemhat was captivated by the scene presented to him, a man wuivering in the wake of bloody slaughter, handing the woman a sack filled with coins. She seemed an extortionist, or a vagrant, perhaps a bandit making her way throughout. It was a pity that she destroyed this establishment, for he had purchases to make. But, he'd come so far and none of these men struck Amenemhat with any sort of fear. The woman... well, she struck him with curiosity, instead.
"Seeing as you've killed my contact," he began, letting an easy smile cast upon his lips. Amenemhat stopped the camel behind him, resting his back against the beast's body. He didn't draw closer. It was foolish and, certainly, he felt no need for his sandaled feet to be sullied by some vagrant corpse's blood.
"I'd wait on loading those slaves back up. I'd like to have a look," he noted. This woman was dangerous, acting on an impulse of murder after slight disrespect. But, that did not equate to killing without a motive. Amenemhat was not a foolish man, but he saw in this stranger, as he had in many others before her, the signs of someone that could prove useful to him.
Draw closer, murderess. Let's see what you are.
The slaver's market wasn't always Nem's duty to peruse, but in Alexandria, he took it upon himself to visit. The province of his birth and the centre of some of the circus' more... lucrative operations, it was his pleasure to flaunt the wealth and power of the Tempest of Set even as it was back on the rise from an age of decay. He'd taken the mantle of ringmaster just the year before, but the coffers had begun to swell already, the word coursing through Egypt that a new ringmaster had taken the reigns and was putting a tired behemoth back on the path to power. The circus was still laden with rot, from old families that needed to be pruned, to incompetent slaves that needed to be broken and worked to the bone...
Replacing the incompetent is always a pleasure. The slaves from Alexandria are some of the more diverse ones.
It wasn't about quantity for Amenemhat. If he wanted to purchase cheap labour by the dozen, he could find the slaver's markets that bordered on Momborah, for they always found purchases there. No, he sought after quality. Fresh meat from different corners of the world from which he could find the appropriate cuts to properly service the needs he had. While the bulk of his labour force was remnants of Momborah mass purchases that Somgi'd made every half-decade, there were the diamonds in the rough, the useful and the selected that rose above their station to become something altogether more... beneficial.
Lapis, Feiyan, Lihua...
The man had his moments of clarity. It was the closest he'd come to admitting any kind of value from the tenure of Somgi of Cairo, and he left it at that, pursuant to the needs of his circus and looking towards the future. Amenemhat crossed through the sand, donning the pleated skirts of his favoured shendyt, toned brightly so as to reflect the sun and heat away from him. It wasn't a terribly long trek to the encampment, and while one might take a camel or horse, Amenemhat walked. He walked, but one of his camels joined him on the journey, carrying his possessions. Deeply, the man valued the striking figure that he presented, using the trek as both a means to reflect and an obstacle for his muscled form to overcome. When he arrived, he found the scene of a khopesh impaling the stomach of a familiar man.
Interesting...
There was no anger or frustration, nor lamenting the loss of a business associate. Power decided everything in this world, and if a man couldn't protect himself from the impending doom he faced... then his blood deserved to coat the blazing sands of Egypt. He watched in fascination as the striking figure of an Egyptian woman was engaged in combat, several on her side and in opposition. Conflict was the life's blood of the world, and he saw no reason for him to join in on either side. There was no fear, only intrigue. Each splatter of blood was his sovereign, Set, reaping the bounty of sacrifice. Each scream of agony was music to Amenemhat's ear, particularly when burning sand met the faces of fallen men.
Groans of pain, followed by the haunting stillness of it all once the task was done. It seemed they'd been in the middle of a negotiation, and while Amenemhat didn't hear the conversation, the result was obvious. Clearly, the merchant had made a mistake, one severe enough to cost him his life. But, if Nem's scrutinizing eye meant anything, he suspected the woman had much to do with it. By the commands she balked out and her general demeanor, she was the leader, a curious thing in it of itself, but Amenemhat knew that actual power had no restrictions. He would consider himself a fool if he bought into the notion of superiority having anything to do with one's genitals. After all, most of the performers beneath him were female.
Their talents were without limit.
"You're next."
Oh?
Amenemhat was captivated by the scene presented to him, a man wuivering in the wake of bloody slaughter, handing the woman a sack filled with coins. She seemed an extortionist, or a vagrant, perhaps a bandit making her way throughout. It was a pity that she destroyed this establishment, for he had purchases to make. But, he'd come so far and none of these men struck Amenemhat with any sort of fear. The woman... well, she struck him with curiosity, instead.
"Seeing as you've killed my contact," he began, letting an easy smile cast upon his lips. Amenemhat stopped the camel behind him, resting his back against the beast's body. He didn't draw closer. It was foolish and, certainly, he felt no need for his sandaled feet to be sullied by some vagrant corpse's blood.
"I'd wait on loading those slaves back up. I'd like to have a look," he noted. This woman was dangerous, acting on an impulse of murder after slight disrespect. But, that did not equate to killing without a motive. Amenemhat was not a foolish man, but he saw in this stranger, as he had in many others before her, the signs of someone that could prove useful to him.
Draw closer, murderess. Let's see what you are.
I’d wait on loading those slaves back up.
Akila’s attention shifted to the newcomer resting against his camel. His clothes were of better make than the average Egyptian, but his body and hands showed obvious signs of being worked. He wasn’t like the Lordlings or Ladies Akila would sometimes see around. Soft, often out of their depth… easy targets.
Not that she necessarily thought she’d see that here. This man was attractive, far better than most of the people who wandered this far from Alexandria, but otherwise unremarkable. At least… as far as appearances went.
Without saying a word she let out a shrill whistle, and the bustling behind her stopped. “Show the man the wares.” Khalid nodded and brought the slaves closer for him to see. It only then did Akila finally tear her eyes from the stranger.
“Mostly caught from the east, don’t speak a lick of their language so don’t expect me to translate.” Her eyes ran down the group. It was a fairly beautiful group this time- well, beautiful for foreigners. They were interesting to look at, exotic and would make for good pleasure slaves. The men were good and strong, and even in the rough journey from their lands to Egypt where they had little food and drink, they didn’t lose all too much muscle. It would have sold very well if this was her normal contact and not some kid pretending to be big and bad and instead annoying the pirate and her crew.
Of the group there were five children. Three girls, two boys. There used to be a third boy but he fell ill, the weakest of the group. Akila knew he wouldn’t survive, and to shut up the slaves as a whole she threw him from the ship and into the depths of the ocean. Anything to get them to fear her and fucking shut up.
The youngest was… four maybe? Truth be told she didn’t expect much from her. The eldest of the children were… six? Honestly, children looked all the same to her. Egyptian, Judean, Greek, or elsewhere… they were whiney criers that were always somehow sticky.
“Have at it.” Akila said gesturing towards the group. She didn’t need to tell him not to short her. The man died just minutes ago. He should be smart enough to know not to piss her off. “Careful if you go near that kid.” Akila tilted her chin at one of the boys sporting many bruises. “He’s a biter.” Fucking near took of one of her crew’s finger. Asshole. “One of the men are mute. Tongue was out before we got him.” Which made him automatically Akila’s favorite.The quieter they were, the less patience she lost.
Finally sheathing her khopesh she looked back at the stranger. “What do you want? Pleasure slave?” A man that looked like that didn’t seem like he’d have much trouble finding people to fuck. Then again, Akila knew from experience the… pleasure men had when they owned a woman. Didn’t really matter so long as the man paid.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
I’d wait on loading those slaves back up.
Akila’s attention shifted to the newcomer resting against his camel. His clothes were of better make than the average Egyptian, but his body and hands showed obvious signs of being worked. He wasn’t like the Lordlings or Ladies Akila would sometimes see around. Soft, often out of their depth… easy targets.
Not that she necessarily thought she’d see that here. This man was attractive, far better than most of the people who wandered this far from Alexandria, but otherwise unremarkable. At least… as far as appearances went.
Without saying a word she let out a shrill whistle, and the bustling behind her stopped. “Show the man the wares.” Khalid nodded and brought the slaves closer for him to see. It only then did Akila finally tear her eyes from the stranger.
“Mostly caught from the east, don’t speak a lick of their language so don’t expect me to translate.” Her eyes ran down the group. It was a fairly beautiful group this time- well, beautiful for foreigners. They were interesting to look at, exotic and would make for good pleasure slaves. The men were good and strong, and even in the rough journey from their lands to Egypt where they had little food and drink, they didn’t lose all too much muscle. It would have sold very well if this was her normal contact and not some kid pretending to be big and bad and instead annoying the pirate and her crew.
Of the group there were five children. Three girls, two boys. There used to be a third boy but he fell ill, the weakest of the group. Akila knew he wouldn’t survive, and to shut up the slaves as a whole she threw him from the ship and into the depths of the ocean. Anything to get them to fear her and fucking shut up.
The youngest was… four maybe? Truth be told she didn’t expect much from her. The eldest of the children were… six? Honestly, children looked all the same to her. Egyptian, Judean, Greek, or elsewhere… they were whiney criers that were always somehow sticky.
“Have at it.” Akila said gesturing towards the group. She didn’t need to tell him not to short her. The man died just minutes ago. He should be smart enough to know not to piss her off. “Careful if you go near that kid.” Akila tilted her chin at one of the boys sporting many bruises. “He’s a biter.” Fucking near took of one of her crew’s finger. Asshole. “One of the men are mute. Tongue was out before we got him.” Which made him automatically Akila’s favorite.The quieter they were, the less patience she lost.
Finally sheathing her khopesh she looked back at the stranger. “What do you want? Pleasure slave?” A man that looked like that didn’t seem like he’d have much trouble finding people to fuck. Then again, Akila knew from experience the… pleasure men had when they owned a woman. Didn’t really matter so long as the man paid.
I’d wait on loading those slaves back up.
Akila’s attention shifted to the newcomer resting against his camel. His clothes were of better make than the average Egyptian, but his body and hands showed obvious signs of being worked. He wasn’t like the Lordlings or Ladies Akila would sometimes see around. Soft, often out of their depth… easy targets.
Not that she necessarily thought she’d see that here. This man was attractive, far better than most of the people who wandered this far from Alexandria, but otherwise unremarkable. At least… as far as appearances went.
Without saying a word she let out a shrill whistle, and the bustling behind her stopped. “Show the man the wares.” Khalid nodded and brought the slaves closer for him to see. It only then did Akila finally tear her eyes from the stranger.
“Mostly caught from the east, don’t speak a lick of their language so don’t expect me to translate.” Her eyes ran down the group. It was a fairly beautiful group this time- well, beautiful for foreigners. They were interesting to look at, exotic and would make for good pleasure slaves. The men were good and strong, and even in the rough journey from their lands to Egypt where they had little food and drink, they didn’t lose all too much muscle. It would have sold very well if this was her normal contact and not some kid pretending to be big and bad and instead annoying the pirate and her crew.
Of the group there were five children. Three girls, two boys. There used to be a third boy but he fell ill, the weakest of the group. Akila knew he wouldn’t survive, and to shut up the slaves as a whole she threw him from the ship and into the depths of the ocean. Anything to get them to fear her and fucking shut up.
The youngest was… four maybe? Truth be told she didn’t expect much from her. The eldest of the children were… six? Honestly, children looked all the same to her. Egyptian, Judean, Greek, or elsewhere… they were whiney criers that were always somehow sticky.
“Have at it.” Akila said gesturing towards the group. She didn’t need to tell him not to short her. The man died just minutes ago. He should be smart enough to know not to piss her off. “Careful if you go near that kid.” Akila tilted her chin at one of the boys sporting many bruises. “He’s a biter.” Fucking near took of one of her crew’s finger. Asshole. “One of the men are mute. Tongue was out before we got him.” Which made him automatically Akila’s favorite.The quieter they were, the less patience she lost.
Finally sheathing her khopesh she looked back at the stranger. “What do you want? Pleasure slave?” A man that looked like that didn’t seem like he’d have much trouble finding people to fuck. Then again, Akila knew from experience the… pleasure men had when they owned a woman. Didn’t really matter so long as the man paid.
"Mostly caught from the east, don't speak a lick of their language so don't expect me to translate."
Translate what? Are slaves expected to speak?
Amenemhat didn't know, or care, who the woman was in this moment. She was a means to an end, some other meaningless face among the many that collected coin for the job at hand. This was all business, the sort of negotiation that the man had sat through before. Until something caught the ringmaster's interest, the slaver in charge was little more than a mouthpiece. Bronze orbs scrutinized each of the servants, one by one. He began by taking their wrists, lifting up each hand and allowing his fingertips to poke and prod at their palms. Some showed signs of labour in their grasp, a useful quality given their fate. While some sought after slaves for the purposes of pleasure, Amenemhat did not.
The circus, after all, was a living, breathing thing. Each part needed to serve a purpose, and those that only served as holes to be fucked... Well, that sort of priority left with Somgi of Cairo. One by one, he'd go through the same ritual, prodding palms before moving to jab at their abdomem, inspecting their eyes and seeing signs of movement. He wasn't so rough with the woman's wares as to cause them harm, but he was decidedly thorough with his investigation of the matter. He suspected, given their complexion and the explanation of their origins, that they didn't speak Coptic. It was always a hassle, to be expected to educate adults. Their capacity for learning language was limited, from what he understood. And so, even when he saw one or two that caught his eye, there were more pressing concerns to pursue.
There were children. Several seemed at the verge of tears, sniveling and dribbling on about something or other. Whether it was due to the treatment at the hands of the woman and her crew, or something that happened beforehand... it really didn't matter. The ringmaster didn't go through a similar process with the children. The state of their bodies did not matter with them. They were investments for the long-term, to be groomed and educated by the circus, put through various degrees of mental and physical tribulations, including the intervention of the doctor, Rekhmire. It was nothing new to him, but there were only certain souls who could make it through the ordeal and be well off enough to be of service. The slaves that weren't dribbling tears onto the sand he pulled up and sent towards the slaver, paying no further mind as two, a boy and a girl, were sent forward.
Her cautions were left where they belonged. If some kid decided to bite him, it would almost guarantee that the man picked them. If only for the satisfaction of subjecting them to the rigors of his particular... machinations. She'd asked some sort of question, but his due diligence had taken priority and once he was done... at last he decided to speak to her.
"If you said something, it escaped my notice," he began. He cared little for the polite indulgence in conversation. The ringmaster was here for business, and she was merely a vehicle by which that objective was accomplished.
"These two children and then the mute and the large man third from the end. I had an arrangement with the previous slaver, that a proper escort for the wares is arranged and payment is supplied at our resting point. Without context, however, I do not expect that agreement to be honoured."
Amenemhat looked the slaver woman over for a moment. Attractive, with a sort of clipped tone to her and the dangerous impatience as to kill without cause. Would her barbarism cost her a sale?
Only time will tell, he mused, the thought lingering as he continued to speak.
"I am the ringmaster of the Tempest of Set, Amenemhat of Alexandria."
The circus had lost some of its popularity and notoriety in the tenure of Somgi of Cairo, but with new hands at the reigns and an overflow of ideas that promised to be fulfilled, Amenemhat had begun the arduous project of restoring meaning to that name again.
"We can negotiate here, in the sun, if you'd like, or you can bring the selected wares to the circus grounds and we can negotiate in the shade. It's your call."
With the arrangement given, it truly was quite the hassle that this woman had murdered his contact. He couldn't pay her if he wanted to, at the moment. But, he wouldn't have, anyway. There was something to the home advantage, the ambiance of the circus and the presence of his performers and people that brought him and his predecessor a certain degree of advantage.
"Is this acceptable?"
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
"Mostly caught from the east, don't speak a lick of their language so don't expect me to translate."
Translate what? Are slaves expected to speak?
Amenemhat didn't know, or care, who the woman was in this moment. She was a means to an end, some other meaningless face among the many that collected coin for the job at hand. This was all business, the sort of negotiation that the man had sat through before. Until something caught the ringmaster's interest, the slaver in charge was little more than a mouthpiece. Bronze orbs scrutinized each of the servants, one by one. He began by taking their wrists, lifting up each hand and allowing his fingertips to poke and prod at their palms. Some showed signs of labour in their grasp, a useful quality given their fate. While some sought after slaves for the purposes of pleasure, Amenemhat did not.
The circus, after all, was a living, breathing thing. Each part needed to serve a purpose, and those that only served as holes to be fucked... Well, that sort of priority left with Somgi of Cairo. One by one, he'd go through the same ritual, prodding palms before moving to jab at their abdomem, inspecting their eyes and seeing signs of movement. He wasn't so rough with the woman's wares as to cause them harm, but he was decidedly thorough with his investigation of the matter. He suspected, given their complexion and the explanation of their origins, that they didn't speak Coptic. It was always a hassle, to be expected to educate adults. Their capacity for learning language was limited, from what he understood. And so, even when he saw one or two that caught his eye, there were more pressing concerns to pursue.
There were children. Several seemed at the verge of tears, sniveling and dribbling on about something or other. Whether it was due to the treatment at the hands of the woman and her crew, or something that happened beforehand... it really didn't matter. The ringmaster didn't go through a similar process with the children. The state of their bodies did not matter with them. They were investments for the long-term, to be groomed and educated by the circus, put through various degrees of mental and physical tribulations, including the intervention of the doctor, Rekhmire. It was nothing new to him, but there were only certain souls who could make it through the ordeal and be well off enough to be of service. The slaves that weren't dribbling tears onto the sand he pulled up and sent towards the slaver, paying no further mind as two, a boy and a girl, were sent forward.
Her cautions were left where they belonged. If some kid decided to bite him, it would almost guarantee that the man picked them. If only for the satisfaction of subjecting them to the rigors of his particular... machinations. She'd asked some sort of question, but his due diligence had taken priority and once he was done... at last he decided to speak to her.
"If you said something, it escaped my notice," he began. He cared little for the polite indulgence in conversation. The ringmaster was here for business, and she was merely a vehicle by which that objective was accomplished.
"These two children and then the mute and the large man third from the end. I had an arrangement with the previous slaver, that a proper escort for the wares is arranged and payment is supplied at our resting point. Without context, however, I do not expect that agreement to be honoured."
Amenemhat looked the slaver woman over for a moment. Attractive, with a sort of clipped tone to her and the dangerous impatience as to kill without cause. Would her barbarism cost her a sale?
Only time will tell, he mused, the thought lingering as he continued to speak.
"I am the ringmaster of the Tempest of Set, Amenemhat of Alexandria."
The circus had lost some of its popularity and notoriety in the tenure of Somgi of Cairo, but with new hands at the reigns and an overflow of ideas that promised to be fulfilled, Amenemhat had begun the arduous project of restoring meaning to that name again.
"We can negotiate here, in the sun, if you'd like, or you can bring the selected wares to the circus grounds and we can negotiate in the shade. It's your call."
With the arrangement given, it truly was quite the hassle that this woman had murdered his contact. He couldn't pay her if he wanted to, at the moment. But, he wouldn't have, anyway. There was something to the home advantage, the ambiance of the circus and the presence of his performers and people that brought him and his predecessor a certain degree of advantage.
"Is this acceptable?"
"Mostly caught from the east, don't speak a lick of their language so don't expect me to translate."
Translate what? Are slaves expected to speak?
Amenemhat didn't know, or care, who the woman was in this moment. She was a means to an end, some other meaningless face among the many that collected coin for the job at hand. This was all business, the sort of negotiation that the man had sat through before. Until something caught the ringmaster's interest, the slaver in charge was little more than a mouthpiece. Bronze orbs scrutinized each of the servants, one by one. He began by taking their wrists, lifting up each hand and allowing his fingertips to poke and prod at their palms. Some showed signs of labour in their grasp, a useful quality given their fate. While some sought after slaves for the purposes of pleasure, Amenemhat did not.
The circus, after all, was a living, breathing thing. Each part needed to serve a purpose, and those that only served as holes to be fucked... Well, that sort of priority left with Somgi of Cairo. One by one, he'd go through the same ritual, prodding palms before moving to jab at their abdomem, inspecting their eyes and seeing signs of movement. He wasn't so rough with the woman's wares as to cause them harm, but he was decidedly thorough with his investigation of the matter. He suspected, given their complexion and the explanation of their origins, that they didn't speak Coptic. It was always a hassle, to be expected to educate adults. Their capacity for learning language was limited, from what he understood. And so, even when he saw one or two that caught his eye, there were more pressing concerns to pursue.
There were children. Several seemed at the verge of tears, sniveling and dribbling on about something or other. Whether it was due to the treatment at the hands of the woman and her crew, or something that happened beforehand... it really didn't matter. The ringmaster didn't go through a similar process with the children. The state of their bodies did not matter with them. They were investments for the long-term, to be groomed and educated by the circus, put through various degrees of mental and physical tribulations, including the intervention of the doctor, Rekhmire. It was nothing new to him, but there were only certain souls who could make it through the ordeal and be well off enough to be of service. The slaves that weren't dribbling tears onto the sand he pulled up and sent towards the slaver, paying no further mind as two, a boy and a girl, were sent forward.
Her cautions were left where they belonged. If some kid decided to bite him, it would almost guarantee that the man picked them. If only for the satisfaction of subjecting them to the rigors of his particular... machinations. She'd asked some sort of question, but his due diligence had taken priority and once he was done... at last he decided to speak to her.
"If you said something, it escaped my notice," he began. He cared little for the polite indulgence in conversation. The ringmaster was here for business, and she was merely a vehicle by which that objective was accomplished.
"These two children and then the mute and the large man third from the end. I had an arrangement with the previous slaver, that a proper escort for the wares is arranged and payment is supplied at our resting point. Without context, however, I do not expect that agreement to be honoured."
Amenemhat looked the slaver woman over for a moment. Attractive, with a sort of clipped tone to her and the dangerous impatience as to kill without cause. Would her barbarism cost her a sale?
Only time will tell, he mused, the thought lingering as he continued to speak.
"I am the ringmaster of the Tempest of Set, Amenemhat of Alexandria."
The circus had lost some of its popularity and notoriety in the tenure of Somgi of Cairo, but with new hands at the reigns and an overflow of ideas that promised to be fulfilled, Amenemhat had begun the arduous project of restoring meaning to that name again.
"We can negotiate here, in the sun, if you'd like, or you can bring the selected wares to the circus grounds and we can negotiate in the shade. It's your call."
With the arrangement given, it truly was quite the hassle that this woman had murdered his contact. He couldn't pay her if he wanted to, at the moment. But, he wouldn't have, anyway. There was something to the home advantage, the ambiance of the circus and the presence of his performers and people that brought him and his predecessor a certain degree of advantage.
"Is this acceptable?"
I am the ringmaster of the Tempest of Set, Amenemhat of Alexandria.
Akila didn’t ask, but it didn’t mean she didn’t care. "Akila," she responded much more simply, no fluff necessary.
She heard of the circus before, she’d had to have been deaf not to. Traveling up and down the Nile man tale reached her ears about the wonderment found within the tents. Feats of strength that no mortal typically could do, freaks that walked among those deemed normal, and humans that controlled beasts. And… the drink that her crew had happily partaken when her boat and their show happened to be in the same place.
Akila herself never felt the need to see the circus. They were a bunch of roaming entertainers touting the name of the God of Chaos, nothing of interest to Akila. But it didn’t stop her curiosity. A circus having slaves was nothing to quirk an eyebrow to, but for the ringmaster to come to this cove in Alexandria… it didn’t hurt to check it out. Show and spectacle was nothing that impressed Akila in particular, but she would not shy away from what could be an opportunity just based on assumptions.
After all, this man watched her kill a man and then invited her to her circus. He could be very interesting indeed.
And besides, while there was an advantage of negotiating on familiar soil, Akila never had such a luxury. Lest they were going to take this conversation to the sea, Akila would have to adapt to wherever she was. And it would do good to have a look around the circus, see just how giant and magnificent it truly was just to get a gauge of what money they were talking about. She wouldn’t want to waste her time on someone who wasted coin and only had a few good years left before it went down the drain.
Akila finally smirked at the man, dark eyes taking another look at the man- past his better than average clothes. Ringmaster explained his athletic build and muscles behind his vestments. Handsome, a good figure to draw a crowd. Her eyes flickered back to his, “Prefer to talk on your home ground? That’s fine by me.”
Her attention shifted now to the men behind her. Some looked eager like they would get the chance to go to the circus, but most had the smarts to know that this wasn’t fucking playtime. So for the final time, Akila told them to load the slaves back up. Though she did give another glance to the ones the ringmaster had chosen. The mute and the man, that was a fine choice. But the two children? Interesting. Were there many children working at the circus? That was something to keep an eye out.
She tilted her chin at Khalid to join them, then turned back to the ringmaster, Amenemhat. “Lead the way.” Let the games begin.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
I am the ringmaster of the Tempest of Set, Amenemhat of Alexandria.
Akila didn’t ask, but it didn’t mean she didn’t care. "Akila," she responded much more simply, no fluff necessary.
She heard of the circus before, she’d had to have been deaf not to. Traveling up and down the Nile man tale reached her ears about the wonderment found within the tents. Feats of strength that no mortal typically could do, freaks that walked among those deemed normal, and humans that controlled beasts. And… the drink that her crew had happily partaken when her boat and their show happened to be in the same place.
Akila herself never felt the need to see the circus. They were a bunch of roaming entertainers touting the name of the God of Chaos, nothing of interest to Akila. But it didn’t stop her curiosity. A circus having slaves was nothing to quirk an eyebrow to, but for the ringmaster to come to this cove in Alexandria… it didn’t hurt to check it out. Show and spectacle was nothing that impressed Akila in particular, but she would not shy away from what could be an opportunity just based on assumptions.
After all, this man watched her kill a man and then invited her to her circus. He could be very interesting indeed.
And besides, while there was an advantage of negotiating on familiar soil, Akila never had such a luxury. Lest they were going to take this conversation to the sea, Akila would have to adapt to wherever she was. And it would do good to have a look around the circus, see just how giant and magnificent it truly was just to get a gauge of what money they were talking about. She wouldn’t want to waste her time on someone who wasted coin and only had a few good years left before it went down the drain.
Akila finally smirked at the man, dark eyes taking another look at the man- past his better than average clothes. Ringmaster explained his athletic build and muscles behind his vestments. Handsome, a good figure to draw a crowd. Her eyes flickered back to his, “Prefer to talk on your home ground? That’s fine by me.”
Her attention shifted now to the men behind her. Some looked eager like they would get the chance to go to the circus, but most had the smarts to know that this wasn’t fucking playtime. So for the final time, Akila told them to load the slaves back up. Though she did give another glance to the ones the ringmaster had chosen. The mute and the man, that was a fine choice. But the two children? Interesting. Were there many children working at the circus? That was something to keep an eye out.
She tilted her chin at Khalid to join them, then turned back to the ringmaster, Amenemhat. “Lead the way.” Let the games begin.
I am the ringmaster of the Tempest of Set, Amenemhat of Alexandria.
Akila didn’t ask, but it didn’t mean she didn’t care. "Akila," she responded much more simply, no fluff necessary.
She heard of the circus before, she’d had to have been deaf not to. Traveling up and down the Nile man tale reached her ears about the wonderment found within the tents. Feats of strength that no mortal typically could do, freaks that walked among those deemed normal, and humans that controlled beasts. And… the drink that her crew had happily partaken when her boat and their show happened to be in the same place.
Akila herself never felt the need to see the circus. They were a bunch of roaming entertainers touting the name of the God of Chaos, nothing of interest to Akila. But it didn’t stop her curiosity. A circus having slaves was nothing to quirk an eyebrow to, but for the ringmaster to come to this cove in Alexandria… it didn’t hurt to check it out. Show and spectacle was nothing that impressed Akila in particular, but she would not shy away from what could be an opportunity just based on assumptions.
After all, this man watched her kill a man and then invited her to her circus. He could be very interesting indeed.
And besides, while there was an advantage of negotiating on familiar soil, Akila never had such a luxury. Lest they were going to take this conversation to the sea, Akila would have to adapt to wherever she was. And it would do good to have a look around the circus, see just how giant and magnificent it truly was just to get a gauge of what money they were talking about. She wouldn’t want to waste her time on someone who wasted coin and only had a few good years left before it went down the drain.
Akila finally smirked at the man, dark eyes taking another look at the man- past his better than average clothes. Ringmaster explained his athletic build and muscles behind his vestments. Handsome, a good figure to draw a crowd. Her eyes flickered back to his, “Prefer to talk on your home ground? That’s fine by me.”
Her attention shifted now to the men behind her. Some looked eager like they would get the chance to go to the circus, but most had the smarts to know that this wasn’t fucking playtime. So for the final time, Akila told them to load the slaves back up. Though she did give another glance to the ones the ringmaster had chosen. The mute and the man, that was a fine choice. But the two children? Interesting. Were there many children working at the circus? That was something to keep an eye out.
She tilted her chin at Khalid to join them, then turned back to the ringmaster, Amenemhat. “Lead the way.” Let the games begin.
There was no reaction to the announcement of his identity, and he didn't really expect it or care that there was one. There were some who reacted viscerally to the revelation. An expression associated with the circus, whether one of awe, or disdain or whatever it was people felt about things. In the end, so long as the people kept coming and the money filled his coffers, Amenemhat didn't really care what people felt. He sought to elicit reactions, positive feelings for they tended to result in the most money spent, but the reputation of his circus did not rest on the perceptions of people as individuals, and thus, those perceptions did not matter.
However, in the moment, the fact that Akila seemed to react negligibly at best served him no purpose. He saw no reaction, and she gave a name unadorned with the place of her birth or any sort of title. Clearly, the murderess wasn't some noble, or some average commoner. The fact that blood simmered over the sands was enough to tell him that. She was some sort of vagrant, a pirate or bandit, or something in between. She walked dry land and killed for the sake of it, and in the end, Amenemhat could find respect for those who took what they wanted. Nem himself was the very same way.
She moved on from that idea without much to show for it, but the smirk that built upon her features and flickered along the breadth of him before returning to his eyes was more than informative. She was sizing him up, and it was obvious that she found something she was looking for in him, because she agreed to his terms of engagement. The 'home field' advantage provided him with a buffer in the event that negotiations went sour, a tactical advantage that was par for the course when he'd just seen her eviscerate a man for the slight of shorting her. While Amenemhat was more careful with his actions than that, and not so tight with his money as to disservice his clientele, there was the possibility of instability that was Akila of Wherever-the-fuck.
Nem, for a moment, looked past Akila and to her men, seeing those that seemed eager to see what the circus was about. They'd see it in a rather... different light.
"I'll leave you to it. Three hours should be enough time, though I will not suffer too deeply if you leave me waiting longer," he teased the woman before he tugged at his camel and led it back towards the circus.
An hour-long trek leads Amenemhat back to his circus. After a short respite, he goes about sorting space for the slaves he'd reserved before retiring to his own tent.
Assembling funds was always rather fun for Amenemhat. The coffers were heavy with gold bullion, stowed away in his personal belongings. Possessing a particular tincture in a vial, those who sought access to it would find a terrible and glass shards embedded in their flesh if they broke into it. Carefuly, he lifted the lid, pulling back on it in his particular way before withdrawing a large sum of coins and preparing them in sacks that he bought for the occasion. Tying them off, he waited for a time until the stir of unexpected arrivals at the circus caused a ruckus outside.
Once he replaced the lid and buried the chest within his things once again, Amenemhat emerged from his tent and welcomed his guests with a wide smile. He cast a flourish for the sake of the woman's crew, having let out some wine as refreshment. It cost him little to put on a bit of hospitality, and distracting the crew while he dealt with their mistress ensured that their ruckus would not extend to breaking any of his shit and there being more severe problems to deal with.
"Come, Akila. We can speak privately," he offered, turning away from her and pushing past the tarp that separated his tent from the waning sun. He sat upon a padded cushion, another set out for the woman to place herself on if she chose to.
"I think, that a handful of slaves, Ms. Pirate Captain..."
He'd taken some time while he was here, asking around and garnered more information about his guest than he'd had earlier. It was useful, to amass knowledge, but he'd hardly change his particular cadence with her just because he knew what she was for sure.
"Is just the beginning of what we can make together, don't you agree? Drink with me, Akila, and let's see what we can offer one another."
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
There was no reaction to the announcement of his identity, and he didn't really expect it or care that there was one. There were some who reacted viscerally to the revelation. An expression associated with the circus, whether one of awe, or disdain or whatever it was people felt about things. In the end, so long as the people kept coming and the money filled his coffers, Amenemhat didn't really care what people felt. He sought to elicit reactions, positive feelings for they tended to result in the most money spent, but the reputation of his circus did not rest on the perceptions of people as individuals, and thus, those perceptions did not matter.
However, in the moment, the fact that Akila seemed to react negligibly at best served him no purpose. He saw no reaction, and she gave a name unadorned with the place of her birth or any sort of title. Clearly, the murderess wasn't some noble, or some average commoner. The fact that blood simmered over the sands was enough to tell him that. She was some sort of vagrant, a pirate or bandit, or something in between. She walked dry land and killed for the sake of it, and in the end, Amenemhat could find respect for those who took what they wanted. Nem himself was the very same way.
She moved on from that idea without much to show for it, but the smirk that built upon her features and flickered along the breadth of him before returning to his eyes was more than informative. She was sizing him up, and it was obvious that she found something she was looking for in him, because she agreed to his terms of engagement. The 'home field' advantage provided him with a buffer in the event that negotiations went sour, a tactical advantage that was par for the course when he'd just seen her eviscerate a man for the slight of shorting her. While Amenemhat was more careful with his actions than that, and not so tight with his money as to disservice his clientele, there was the possibility of instability that was Akila of Wherever-the-fuck.
Nem, for a moment, looked past Akila and to her men, seeing those that seemed eager to see what the circus was about. They'd see it in a rather... different light.
"I'll leave you to it. Three hours should be enough time, though I will not suffer too deeply if you leave me waiting longer," he teased the woman before he tugged at his camel and led it back towards the circus.
An hour-long trek leads Amenemhat back to his circus. After a short respite, he goes about sorting space for the slaves he'd reserved before retiring to his own tent.
Assembling funds was always rather fun for Amenemhat. The coffers were heavy with gold bullion, stowed away in his personal belongings. Possessing a particular tincture in a vial, those who sought access to it would find a terrible and glass shards embedded in their flesh if they broke into it. Carefuly, he lifted the lid, pulling back on it in his particular way before withdrawing a large sum of coins and preparing them in sacks that he bought for the occasion. Tying them off, he waited for a time until the stir of unexpected arrivals at the circus caused a ruckus outside.
Once he replaced the lid and buried the chest within his things once again, Amenemhat emerged from his tent and welcomed his guests with a wide smile. He cast a flourish for the sake of the woman's crew, having let out some wine as refreshment. It cost him little to put on a bit of hospitality, and distracting the crew while he dealt with their mistress ensured that their ruckus would not extend to breaking any of his shit and there being more severe problems to deal with.
"Come, Akila. We can speak privately," he offered, turning away from her and pushing past the tarp that separated his tent from the waning sun. He sat upon a padded cushion, another set out for the woman to place herself on if she chose to.
"I think, that a handful of slaves, Ms. Pirate Captain..."
He'd taken some time while he was here, asking around and garnered more information about his guest than he'd had earlier. It was useful, to amass knowledge, but he'd hardly change his particular cadence with her just because he knew what she was for sure.
"Is just the beginning of what we can make together, don't you agree? Drink with me, Akila, and let's see what we can offer one another."
There was no reaction to the announcement of his identity, and he didn't really expect it or care that there was one. There were some who reacted viscerally to the revelation. An expression associated with the circus, whether one of awe, or disdain or whatever it was people felt about things. In the end, so long as the people kept coming and the money filled his coffers, Amenemhat didn't really care what people felt. He sought to elicit reactions, positive feelings for they tended to result in the most money spent, but the reputation of his circus did not rest on the perceptions of people as individuals, and thus, those perceptions did not matter.
However, in the moment, the fact that Akila seemed to react negligibly at best served him no purpose. He saw no reaction, and she gave a name unadorned with the place of her birth or any sort of title. Clearly, the murderess wasn't some noble, or some average commoner. The fact that blood simmered over the sands was enough to tell him that. She was some sort of vagrant, a pirate or bandit, or something in between. She walked dry land and killed for the sake of it, and in the end, Amenemhat could find respect for those who took what they wanted. Nem himself was the very same way.
She moved on from that idea without much to show for it, but the smirk that built upon her features and flickered along the breadth of him before returning to his eyes was more than informative. She was sizing him up, and it was obvious that she found something she was looking for in him, because she agreed to his terms of engagement. The 'home field' advantage provided him with a buffer in the event that negotiations went sour, a tactical advantage that was par for the course when he'd just seen her eviscerate a man for the slight of shorting her. While Amenemhat was more careful with his actions than that, and not so tight with his money as to disservice his clientele, there was the possibility of instability that was Akila of Wherever-the-fuck.
Nem, for a moment, looked past Akila and to her men, seeing those that seemed eager to see what the circus was about. They'd see it in a rather... different light.
"I'll leave you to it. Three hours should be enough time, though I will not suffer too deeply if you leave me waiting longer," he teased the woman before he tugged at his camel and led it back towards the circus.
An hour-long trek leads Amenemhat back to his circus. After a short respite, he goes about sorting space for the slaves he'd reserved before retiring to his own tent.
Assembling funds was always rather fun for Amenemhat. The coffers were heavy with gold bullion, stowed away in his personal belongings. Possessing a particular tincture in a vial, those who sought access to it would find a terrible and glass shards embedded in their flesh if they broke into it. Carefuly, he lifted the lid, pulling back on it in his particular way before withdrawing a large sum of coins and preparing them in sacks that he bought for the occasion. Tying them off, he waited for a time until the stir of unexpected arrivals at the circus caused a ruckus outside.
Once he replaced the lid and buried the chest within his things once again, Amenemhat emerged from his tent and welcomed his guests with a wide smile. He cast a flourish for the sake of the woman's crew, having let out some wine as refreshment. It cost him little to put on a bit of hospitality, and distracting the crew while he dealt with their mistress ensured that their ruckus would not extend to breaking any of his shit and there being more severe problems to deal with.
"Come, Akila. We can speak privately," he offered, turning away from her and pushing past the tarp that separated his tent from the waning sun. He sat upon a padded cushion, another set out for the woman to place herself on if she chose to.
"I think, that a handful of slaves, Ms. Pirate Captain..."
He'd taken some time while he was here, asking around and garnered more information about his guest than he'd had earlier. It was useful, to amass knowledge, but he'd hardly change his particular cadence with her just because he knew what she was for sure.
"Is just the beginning of what we can make together, don't you agree? Drink with me, Akila, and let's see what we can offer one another."
Three hours was plenty of time for Akila to finish her business. With little more than a nod, Akila agreed to the meeting time to the man. How very interesting. If Akila was one to believe in fate, she’d wonder what it had in store for her, bringing the two together in such an… interesting manner.
And perhaps it was that interest that pushed Akila to play this little game. What did the circus have to offer her? Akila worked with all types. Rich nobles, slavers, black market merchants, but never a circus. Did they delve into chaos as their name suggested, or was this simply going to be a quick transaction between slaver and slave buyer.
The circus was a sight to behold, Akila would give it that. There was color everywhere. People performing with paint splashed all over their bodies, swirling tempests adorning their skin. People dancing with fire, or knives being thrown through the air, playing with death and winning over and over again. Akila could hear the hissing of snakes, the roars of tigers, and the heavy beating of drums adding more life to the already vivid grounds.
But Akila did not come to be entertained. As interesting as the spectacle may be, it was not more interesting than the prospect of money. Her crew could go off and find their own entertainment in the circus, Akila had other things to take care of.
The drink was a nice touch and would do well to keep her crew happy and distracted as the two talked. Though Akila was sure they could entertain themselves without making too much trouble. She had seen a few whores walking around the grounds already trying to solicit clients. She was sure as the night went on, their numbers would only increase.
With Khalid placed outside the tent, Akila entered. A woman who traveled far and wide with numerous contacts spread all over, she was used to doing business in unusual places. Taverns, alleys, her boat, their boat, but a circus was never one of them. With an offering of wine and a cushioned seat, Akila was almost surprised by how cordial this meeting was already when just a few hours previously he had seen her bloodied with bodies spewed on the floor. He was… interesting.
But of course, Akila would say none of this, keeping her mouth shut and accepting the wine and seat. She swirled the drink before taking a sip. “Let’s be blunt. I’m not one to play a game of hidden meanings and secret messages if it could be avoided.” And with his opening of calling her a pirate captain, she didn’t need to veil any of her words right now. “What is it that you’re wanting, beyond the people?” Exotic animals? She’d have to figure out how to get it on her ship without killing her crew. Fancy paints at an untaxed price? Easy. “What business does a ringmaster of a circus want with a pirate and her crew?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Three hours was plenty of time for Akila to finish her business. With little more than a nod, Akila agreed to the meeting time to the man. How very interesting. If Akila was one to believe in fate, she’d wonder what it had in store for her, bringing the two together in such an… interesting manner.
And perhaps it was that interest that pushed Akila to play this little game. What did the circus have to offer her? Akila worked with all types. Rich nobles, slavers, black market merchants, but never a circus. Did they delve into chaos as their name suggested, or was this simply going to be a quick transaction between slaver and slave buyer.
The circus was a sight to behold, Akila would give it that. There was color everywhere. People performing with paint splashed all over their bodies, swirling tempests adorning their skin. People dancing with fire, or knives being thrown through the air, playing with death and winning over and over again. Akila could hear the hissing of snakes, the roars of tigers, and the heavy beating of drums adding more life to the already vivid grounds.
But Akila did not come to be entertained. As interesting as the spectacle may be, it was not more interesting than the prospect of money. Her crew could go off and find their own entertainment in the circus, Akila had other things to take care of.
The drink was a nice touch and would do well to keep her crew happy and distracted as the two talked. Though Akila was sure they could entertain themselves without making too much trouble. She had seen a few whores walking around the grounds already trying to solicit clients. She was sure as the night went on, their numbers would only increase.
With Khalid placed outside the tent, Akila entered. A woman who traveled far and wide with numerous contacts spread all over, she was used to doing business in unusual places. Taverns, alleys, her boat, their boat, but a circus was never one of them. With an offering of wine and a cushioned seat, Akila was almost surprised by how cordial this meeting was already when just a few hours previously he had seen her bloodied with bodies spewed on the floor. He was… interesting.
But of course, Akila would say none of this, keeping her mouth shut and accepting the wine and seat. She swirled the drink before taking a sip. “Let’s be blunt. I’m not one to play a game of hidden meanings and secret messages if it could be avoided.” And with his opening of calling her a pirate captain, she didn’t need to veil any of her words right now. “What is it that you’re wanting, beyond the people?” Exotic animals? She’d have to figure out how to get it on her ship without killing her crew. Fancy paints at an untaxed price? Easy. “What business does a ringmaster of a circus want with a pirate and her crew?”
Three hours was plenty of time for Akila to finish her business. With little more than a nod, Akila agreed to the meeting time to the man. How very interesting. If Akila was one to believe in fate, she’d wonder what it had in store for her, bringing the two together in such an… interesting manner.
And perhaps it was that interest that pushed Akila to play this little game. What did the circus have to offer her? Akila worked with all types. Rich nobles, slavers, black market merchants, but never a circus. Did they delve into chaos as their name suggested, or was this simply going to be a quick transaction between slaver and slave buyer.
The circus was a sight to behold, Akila would give it that. There was color everywhere. People performing with paint splashed all over their bodies, swirling tempests adorning their skin. People dancing with fire, or knives being thrown through the air, playing with death and winning over and over again. Akila could hear the hissing of snakes, the roars of tigers, and the heavy beating of drums adding more life to the already vivid grounds.
But Akila did not come to be entertained. As interesting as the spectacle may be, it was not more interesting than the prospect of money. Her crew could go off and find their own entertainment in the circus, Akila had other things to take care of.
The drink was a nice touch and would do well to keep her crew happy and distracted as the two talked. Though Akila was sure they could entertain themselves without making too much trouble. She had seen a few whores walking around the grounds already trying to solicit clients. She was sure as the night went on, their numbers would only increase.
With Khalid placed outside the tent, Akila entered. A woman who traveled far and wide with numerous contacts spread all over, she was used to doing business in unusual places. Taverns, alleys, her boat, their boat, but a circus was never one of them. With an offering of wine and a cushioned seat, Akila was almost surprised by how cordial this meeting was already when just a few hours previously he had seen her bloodied with bodies spewed on the floor. He was… interesting.
But of course, Akila would say none of this, keeping her mouth shut and accepting the wine and seat. She swirled the drink before taking a sip. “Let’s be blunt. I’m not one to play a game of hidden meanings and secret messages if it could be avoided.” And with his opening of calling her a pirate captain, she didn’t need to veil any of her words right now. “What is it that you’re wanting, beyond the people?” Exotic animals? She’d have to figure out how to get it on her ship without killing her crew. Fancy paints at an untaxed price? Easy. “What business does a ringmaster of a circus want with a pirate and her crew?”
Grisly sights did not serve to deter Amenemhat from much of anything. Bloodshed and conflict were necessary things in the world, and with a divine patron like the one his circus claimed... who was he to care about how people got things done? The strong survived in this world and Nem was certain of which side he lived on. He didn't care to remember the fallen and passed, preferring to settle into the moment and see what else he could make of this pirate. Channels and supply lines were necessities, especially to those who lived outside of the cities like Nem did. Contacts were the most important thing, and making this ruthless woman one of his... it was a start.
Amenemhat did not plaster fake smiles onto his face any longer. The facade he wore, that of the showman and entertainer, grew tiresome particularly when it didn't serve his purposes. A man of many masks, the showman would show Akila the respect she deserved, a face closer to his real one, hidden beneath the surface all the while.
"Let's be blunt."
Oh, please and thank you.
Already, this was a perfect start. Putting on a show was what he did for a living, but the face needed to be pried off sometimes.
"Metaphor is left for the stage, isn't it?"
But, he let her on. Her questions were brief and then, she got to the heart of it. What did a ringmaster want with a pirate, indeed.
"It's no secret that my circus has a large number of slaves in its possession. We live outside of the city. We have needs that aren't adequately met by their appropriate channels. It's not just a question of people, but the right people. Strong slaves that can put their paces. But, more than that, we have our methods that have specific needs to be effective."
The man poured the both of them a cup. Amenemhat himself preferred mead to wine, and set aside for his own consumption. He'd share that with Akila, raising his cup to his lips to wet his tongue before he went on.
"The young. The mold-able. We use drugs to pacify our slaves, a tincture prepared by our doctor. Supplies aren't difficult to get, but the purpose of having them... Well, it's always better when people don't ask any fucking questions about it. Bring me children, Akila. Having a reliable supply line for both of these things can open up more business between us, and we can both walk away richer for the experience."
Dealing with reputable merchants was often a hassle. Slavers that scoured the lands usually brought about inferior slaves, or too many locally sourced. The idea of having a parent see their child at the circus after being stolen away was not an argument he wanted to be having with his patronage.
"From overseas, I need them. Little bastards of different colours and makes, able-bodied and ready to be thrown into the dredge. Is that answer satisfactory, Akila?"
It wasn't unsafe to be plain with this woman. Who'd see her as a reliable source of information? Moreover, what reason did she have to undermine him? Money was her motivator, as it was him. A quality product brought yields many times worth their cost when he played his cards right.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Grisly sights did not serve to deter Amenemhat from much of anything. Bloodshed and conflict were necessary things in the world, and with a divine patron like the one his circus claimed... who was he to care about how people got things done? The strong survived in this world and Nem was certain of which side he lived on. He didn't care to remember the fallen and passed, preferring to settle into the moment and see what else he could make of this pirate. Channels and supply lines were necessities, especially to those who lived outside of the cities like Nem did. Contacts were the most important thing, and making this ruthless woman one of his... it was a start.
Amenemhat did not plaster fake smiles onto his face any longer. The facade he wore, that of the showman and entertainer, grew tiresome particularly when it didn't serve his purposes. A man of many masks, the showman would show Akila the respect she deserved, a face closer to his real one, hidden beneath the surface all the while.
"Let's be blunt."
Oh, please and thank you.
Already, this was a perfect start. Putting on a show was what he did for a living, but the face needed to be pried off sometimes.
"Metaphor is left for the stage, isn't it?"
But, he let her on. Her questions were brief and then, she got to the heart of it. What did a ringmaster want with a pirate, indeed.
"It's no secret that my circus has a large number of slaves in its possession. We live outside of the city. We have needs that aren't adequately met by their appropriate channels. It's not just a question of people, but the right people. Strong slaves that can put their paces. But, more than that, we have our methods that have specific needs to be effective."
The man poured the both of them a cup. Amenemhat himself preferred mead to wine, and set aside for his own consumption. He'd share that with Akila, raising his cup to his lips to wet his tongue before he went on.
"The young. The mold-able. We use drugs to pacify our slaves, a tincture prepared by our doctor. Supplies aren't difficult to get, but the purpose of having them... Well, it's always better when people don't ask any fucking questions about it. Bring me children, Akila. Having a reliable supply line for both of these things can open up more business between us, and we can both walk away richer for the experience."
Dealing with reputable merchants was often a hassle. Slavers that scoured the lands usually brought about inferior slaves, or too many locally sourced. The idea of having a parent see their child at the circus after being stolen away was not an argument he wanted to be having with his patronage.
"From overseas, I need them. Little bastards of different colours and makes, able-bodied and ready to be thrown into the dredge. Is that answer satisfactory, Akila?"
It wasn't unsafe to be plain with this woman. Who'd see her as a reliable source of information? Moreover, what reason did she have to undermine him? Money was her motivator, as it was him. A quality product brought yields many times worth their cost when he played his cards right.
Grisly sights did not serve to deter Amenemhat from much of anything. Bloodshed and conflict were necessary things in the world, and with a divine patron like the one his circus claimed... who was he to care about how people got things done? The strong survived in this world and Nem was certain of which side he lived on. He didn't care to remember the fallen and passed, preferring to settle into the moment and see what else he could make of this pirate. Channels and supply lines were necessities, especially to those who lived outside of the cities like Nem did. Contacts were the most important thing, and making this ruthless woman one of his... it was a start.
Amenemhat did not plaster fake smiles onto his face any longer. The facade he wore, that of the showman and entertainer, grew tiresome particularly when it didn't serve his purposes. A man of many masks, the showman would show Akila the respect she deserved, a face closer to his real one, hidden beneath the surface all the while.
"Let's be blunt."
Oh, please and thank you.
Already, this was a perfect start. Putting on a show was what he did for a living, but the face needed to be pried off sometimes.
"Metaphor is left for the stage, isn't it?"
But, he let her on. Her questions were brief and then, she got to the heart of it. What did a ringmaster want with a pirate, indeed.
"It's no secret that my circus has a large number of slaves in its possession. We live outside of the city. We have needs that aren't adequately met by their appropriate channels. It's not just a question of people, but the right people. Strong slaves that can put their paces. But, more than that, we have our methods that have specific needs to be effective."
The man poured the both of them a cup. Amenemhat himself preferred mead to wine, and set aside for his own consumption. He'd share that with Akila, raising his cup to his lips to wet his tongue before he went on.
"The young. The mold-able. We use drugs to pacify our slaves, a tincture prepared by our doctor. Supplies aren't difficult to get, but the purpose of having them... Well, it's always better when people don't ask any fucking questions about it. Bring me children, Akila. Having a reliable supply line for both of these things can open up more business between us, and we can both walk away richer for the experience."
Dealing with reputable merchants was often a hassle. Slavers that scoured the lands usually brought about inferior slaves, or too many locally sourced. The idea of having a parent see their child at the circus after being stolen away was not an argument he wanted to be having with his patronage.
"From overseas, I need them. Little bastards of different colours and makes, able-bodied and ready to be thrown into the dredge. Is that answer satisfactory, Akila?"
It wasn't unsafe to be plain with this woman. Who'd see her as a reliable source of information? Moreover, what reason did she have to undermine him? Money was her motivator, as it was him. A quality product brought yields many times worth their cost when he played his cards right.
Children.
Akila hated dealing with children. It wasn’t that she felt morally bad or anything (she didn’t feel morally bad about anything, to be quite honest), but they were a hassle. They cried more than adults. They were more easily scared, but they were stupid and reckless. And weak. The farther she ventured out, the more likely at least one child died.
But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was selling them. They sold for less… at least typically. But this was an opportunity for the pair. He would get his children, as exotic as her ship could venture, and she could sell children at a higher premium than she would typically.
This was not, however, without risk. Should there be children he did not want, or should he no longer be interested in buying a batch, she would be stuck having wasted her time. Eventually they would sell, of course. She’d still need to find a slaver willing to buy whatever stock of people she had- so long as they weren’t on the verge of dying of course. But that wouldn’t be as profitable, and worse her time was wasted. She hated wasting time. Money couldn’t buy that. Plus she had a crew to pay and a ship to upkeep, and if she was venturing farther out, the upkeep price would grow.
Despite the risk, Akila couldn’t help but be intrigued. Drugs to pacify their slaves? Perhaps there was more to this circus than Akila had originally thought. Akila didn’t care about the slaves after she had money in her hand. In fact, the only thing she cared about was how much profit they would bring. But what the circus did was interesting. It was fucked up, and Akila loved fucked up.
This was not at all how Akila expected the meeting to go. If Akila believed in fate she would say it led her khopesh to her past contact’s gut. Instead, she’d say it was damn good timing. “I’ll need a deposit.” Akila took another sip of her wine before continuing. “Farther I go, more supplies I need, more money I need to spend. I’m not taking a risk bringing back a cargo of kids to not make a profit. Drop the deposit, pay the rest once you have the goods.” Even if he didn’t want every child she brought with her, she’d at least still be making a profit allowing him to have the first pick and selling the scraps to whatever slaver was willing to pay. And without him going through a middle man, he’d still be saving. A win for both of them.
And while this would certainly line both their pockets (more immediately Akila’s) the idea of the future was more than enough to have the pirate play this little game- at least for a while. She was curious at what ‘more business’ could open up between them. So, with a quirk of her scarred brow, she asked the ringmaster one simple question. “Do we have ourselves a deal?”
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Children.
Akila hated dealing with children. It wasn’t that she felt morally bad or anything (she didn’t feel morally bad about anything, to be quite honest), but they were a hassle. They cried more than adults. They were more easily scared, but they were stupid and reckless. And weak. The farther she ventured out, the more likely at least one child died.
But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was selling them. They sold for less… at least typically. But this was an opportunity for the pair. He would get his children, as exotic as her ship could venture, and she could sell children at a higher premium than she would typically.
This was not, however, without risk. Should there be children he did not want, or should he no longer be interested in buying a batch, she would be stuck having wasted her time. Eventually they would sell, of course. She’d still need to find a slaver willing to buy whatever stock of people she had- so long as they weren’t on the verge of dying of course. But that wouldn’t be as profitable, and worse her time was wasted. She hated wasting time. Money couldn’t buy that. Plus she had a crew to pay and a ship to upkeep, and if she was venturing farther out, the upkeep price would grow.
Despite the risk, Akila couldn’t help but be intrigued. Drugs to pacify their slaves? Perhaps there was more to this circus than Akila had originally thought. Akila didn’t care about the slaves after she had money in her hand. In fact, the only thing she cared about was how much profit they would bring. But what the circus did was interesting. It was fucked up, and Akila loved fucked up.
This was not at all how Akila expected the meeting to go. If Akila believed in fate she would say it led her khopesh to her past contact’s gut. Instead, she’d say it was damn good timing. “I’ll need a deposit.” Akila took another sip of her wine before continuing. “Farther I go, more supplies I need, more money I need to spend. I’m not taking a risk bringing back a cargo of kids to not make a profit. Drop the deposit, pay the rest once you have the goods.” Even if he didn’t want every child she brought with her, she’d at least still be making a profit allowing him to have the first pick and selling the scraps to whatever slaver was willing to pay. And without him going through a middle man, he’d still be saving. A win for both of them.
And while this would certainly line both their pockets (more immediately Akila’s) the idea of the future was more than enough to have the pirate play this little game- at least for a while. She was curious at what ‘more business’ could open up between them. So, with a quirk of her scarred brow, she asked the ringmaster one simple question. “Do we have ourselves a deal?”
Children.
Akila hated dealing with children. It wasn’t that she felt morally bad or anything (she didn’t feel morally bad about anything, to be quite honest), but they were a hassle. They cried more than adults. They were more easily scared, but they were stupid and reckless. And weak. The farther she ventured out, the more likely at least one child died.
But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was selling them. They sold for less… at least typically. But this was an opportunity for the pair. He would get his children, as exotic as her ship could venture, and she could sell children at a higher premium than she would typically.
This was not, however, without risk. Should there be children he did not want, or should he no longer be interested in buying a batch, she would be stuck having wasted her time. Eventually they would sell, of course. She’d still need to find a slaver willing to buy whatever stock of people she had- so long as they weren’t on the verge of dying of course. But that wouldn’t be as profitable, and worse her time was wasted. She hated wasting time. Money couldn’t buy that. Plus she had a crew to pay and a ship to upkeep, and if she was venturing farther out, the upkeep price would grow.
Despite the risk, Akila couldn’t help but be intrigued. Drugs to pacify their slaves? Perhaps there was more to this circus than Akila had originally thought. Akila didn’t care about the slaves after she had money in her hand. In fact, the only thing she cared about was how much profit they would bring. But what the circus did was interesting. It was fucked up, and Akila loved fucked up.
This was not at all how Akila expected the meeting to go. If Akila believed in fate she would say it led her khopesh to her past contact’s gut. Instead, she’d say it was damn good timing. “I’ll need a deposit.” Akila took another sip of her wine before continuing. “Farther I go, more supplies I need, more money I need to spend. I’m not taking a risk bringing back a cargo of kids to not make a profit. Drop the deposit, pay the rest once you have the goods.” Even if he didn’t want every child she brought with her, she’d at least still be making a profit allowing him to have the first pick and selling the scraps to whatever slaver was willing to pay. And without him going through a middle man, he’d still be saving. A win for both of them.
And while this would certainly line both their pockets (more immediately Akila’s) the idea of the future was more than enough to have the pirate play this little game- at least for a while. She was curious at what ‘more business’ could open up between them. So, with a quirk of her scarred brow, she asked the ringmaster one simple question. “Do we have ourselves a deal?”
Meticulous were the intentions of Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set.
There were practices, engrained into the very core of the circus that required specific components. There was the indoctrination, the twisting of the mind so that his interests were protected. The mind was not so fragile as to break under exposure to drugs. Eventually, the cost of breaking someone would exceed their utility in his domain. So, Amenhotep had turned to children. They were less shaped into the people they would become. They were easier to keep in captivity. Perfectly suited to the task of being coerced, it was the natural choice.
So, he'd insist if he was pressed on the matter. Some people had a moral objection to capturing children, or women, but based on what he'd already seen of her, that was unlikely. She seemed amoral and concerned only with her profit margin, evidenced when she mentioned a deposit and then elaborated on the economic strain of the assignment he was giving her. He was so very tempted, to roll his eyes, quite familiar with the concept of squeezing out as much reward from something as possible, to "protect" interests.
Akila was a clever woman, competent enough to state the obvious without being so cavalier with her efforts as to announce them. It would be fine maneuvering to deal with this woman over time, but Amenemhat appreciated some amount of challenge in his existence. Each trial given, he would overcome, for the sake of his circus' prosperity in perpetuity.
"A deposit is fine, provided that you're able to come through on it, and provided a credit in the event that you bring anything not worth my while."
Each exchange needed to be worthy, and Amenemhat was done negotiating. He had enough to do before the shows began, and he'd rather the woman's compatriots were well gone before the circus opened up for business. The rank smell from them was already turning up Amenemhat's nostrils and none of the men were even in the tent with them.
"You have yourself a task, Akila. I trust you'll return with good tidings."
He dismissed her then, a chuckle on his lips as he exited the tent and sought out Hamidi. The Bedoan would lead the slaves to the doctor, and their journey through the Tempest of Set would truly begin.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
Badges
Deleted
Deleted
Meticulous were the intentions of Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set.
There were practices, engrained into the very core of the circus that required specific components. There was the indoctrination, the twisting of the mind so that his interests were protected. The mind was not so fragile as to break under exposure to drugs. Eventually, the cost of breaking someone would exceed their utility in his domain. So, Amenhotep had turned to children. They were less shaped into the people they would become. They were easier to keep in captivity. Perfectly suited to the task of being coerced, it was the natural choice.
So, he'd insist if he was pressed on the matter. Some people had a moral objection to capturing children, or women, but based on what he'd already seen of her, that was unlikely. She seemed amoral and concerned only with her profit margin, evidenced when she mentioned a deposit and then elaborated on the economic strain of the assignment he was giving her. He was so very tempted, to roll his eyes, quite familiar with the concept of squeezing out as much reward from something as possible, to "protect" interests.
Akila was a clever woman, competent enough to state the obvious without being so cavalier with her efforts as to announce them. It would be fine maneuvering to deal with this woman over time, but Amenemhat appreciated some amount of challenge in his existence. Each trial given, he would overcome, for the sake of his circus' prosperity in perpetuity.
"A deposit is fine, provided that you're able to come through on it, and provided a credit in the event that you bring anything not worth my while."
Each exchange needed to be worthy, and Amenemhat was done negotiating. He had enough to do before the shows began, and he'd rather the woman's compatriots were well gone before the circus opened up for business. The rank smell from them was already turning up Amenemhat's nostrils and none of the men were even in the tent with them.
"You have yourself a task, Akila. I trust you'll return with good tidings."
He dismissed her then, a chuckle on his lips as he exited the tent and sought out Hamidi. The Bedoan would lead the slaves to the doctor, and their journey through the Tempest of Set would truly begin.
Meticulous were the intentions of Amenemhat of the Tempest of Set.
There were practices, engrained into the very core of the circus that required specific components. There was the indoctrination, the twisting of the mind so that his interests were protected. The mind was not so fragile as to break under exposure to drugs. Eventually, the cost of breaking someone would exceed their utility in his domain. So, Amenhotep had turned to children. They were less shaped into the people they would become. They were easier to keep in captivity. Perfectly suited to the task of being coerced, it was the natural choice.
So, he'd insist if he was pressed on the matter. Some people had a moral objection to capturing children, or women, but based on what he'd already seen of her, that was unlikely. She seemed amoral and concerned only with her profit margin, evidenced when she mentioned a deposit and then elaborated on the economic strain of the assignment he was giving her. He was so very tempted, to roll his eyes, quite familiar with the concept of squeezing out as much reward from something as possible, to "protect" interests.
Akila was a clever woman, competent enough to state the obvious without being so cavalier with her efforts as to announce them. It would be fine maneuvering to deal with this woman over time, but Amenemhat appreciated some amount of challenge in his existence. Each trial given, he would overcome, for the sake of his circus' prosperity in perpetuity.
"A deposit is fine, provided that you're able to come through on it, and provided a credit in the event that you bring anything not worth my while."
Each exchange needed to be worthy, and Amenemhat was done negotiating. He had enough to do before the shows began, and he'd rather the woman's compatriots were well gone before the circus opened up for business. The rank smell from them was already turning up Amenemhat's nostrils and none of the men were even in the tent with them.
"You have yourself a task, Akila. I trust you'll return with good tidings."
He dismissed her then, a chuckle on his lips as he exited the tent and sought out Hamidi. The Bedoan would lead the slaves to the doctor, and their journey through the Tempest of Set would truly begin.