greggan

The sun rose high in the sky and fell directly on Greggans face. He had resisted sleep as long as he could but exhaustion eventually won. He went to move his hand over his eyes when he realized he couldn't, they had been bound. He turned his head and noticed straw on either side, he began to notice the holes in the road as the cart creaked and bounced down the road. Greggan had been found by a slaver, his heart sank in his chest and tears rolled down his face. He had been right there at the doors of the orphanage, how had he been missed?

While he had been asleep did some random person find him and decide to just take him since he was an orphan and just sell him?

He heard a mans cough from where he suspected was the drivers seat of the buggy. He didn't hear any voices just the creaking of the wooden wheels and the sounds of hooves presumably from a horse or mules pulling the cart behind them. He wasn't sure if he should speak, what would happen if whomever realized he was awake.

"He's awake." Greggan heard before seeing the underside of a boot come down on his face. His nose broke gushing blood his eyes swelled before he lost consciousness again.

This time Greggan woke up in a dark room with a dirt floor. He hands were no longer bound but his face felt as though it ha been kicked by a mule. None of his teeth were missing but his nose was throbbing with pain to the point he had a headache that felt like a searing spike was being pressed behind his eyes. He wanted to cry but the pain from the act caused him to fight it. "Where am i?" Greggan asked in the dark, he was alone and his own voice replied back " where am i?".

The room was pitch black, not even an outside torch from the door, and from what he could tell there were also no windows. He scrambled on the floor on his hands and knees only to knock over a foul smelling pot, the contents made the ground wet as it oozed over his hand. He gagged as he crawled through the muk he had just created on the floor, he eventually found a small stool and sat on it with his back against the wall. He sniffled for a while as he wondered how he had gotten to where he was and where exactly it was was.

After a few hours the sound of keys clanging against a door could be heard somewhere close to where he was, he heard the same coughing as he did earlier before he heard the sound of keys right outside of where he was being held. As the door open light came into the room and Greggan saw he was sitting in the corner of the room opposite side of the door. He saw the puddle of piss and shit he had made when he knocked the chamber pot over and he saw the room was truly void of any windows. The shadow of a large figure lurched over the doorway, "aye boy, come out the corner." He growled in such a way that frightened Greggan, " don't make me tell you again boy!" The cracking of a whip pierced the room and caused Greggan to jump out of his stool. He walked to the door not sure who he was going to meeting. As the light from the door hit his face he had to squint to adjust to the light. Standing there not really too much taller than himself was a fat man with a wispy mustache. He was holding a whip and wearing leathers, from his vest to his boots. His face was blackened by dirt and grime and his hair was balding but hadn't quite made it there. He combed the longer side to try and hide it but even that was thinning. He smelled of stale ale and sweat, his smell took over the room masking the mess on the floor. " give me your wristsz" he commanded and Greggan weakly put out his wrist and the man placed shackles on them causing them to be pulled to his waist from the weight of them. " follow me boy." He cracked his whip next to Greggan, he could feel the wind right beside him as it cracked back.

Greggan ran forward and the man started down the hallway behind him which had dingy black walls dripping wet with a dirt floor. Greggan was in a holding cell underground, a common practice amongst the slavers in Thre'a. The practice of slavery was legal in some non magical cities but the transportation and sale of slaves were illegal everywhere else by magical order. Slavers would build illiterate underground structures to hide and sell slaves. Many tunnels would lead out towards the cities where it was a legal practice which made it hard for the Magestrate to catch them. Both sides constantly undermining the other in century long political moves for power.

There Greggan was alone in the dark being led down a slavers tunnel to be sold. Tears welled up sending more pain to Greggans broken nose, he whimpered as softly as he could as to not provoke the ire of the man holding the whip. They walked for what felt like forever before they came to grubby wooden door that opened from the outside. He knocked three times before a metal peep hole slid and the door was disbarred on the other side. It opened slowly revealing a cave with men sitting around fires and the beach rumbling as the tide came and left. It was massive as far sheer open space, easily as large as the largest grand hall inside the castle La'velle, big enough for 3 jousting pitches end to end going from western wall to the eastern wall. And twice that from the entrance to the door Greggan had just exited from.

"Only one for us?" A long haired brute of a man standing easily seven feet tall with dark black eyes peeking through his beard. "Everyone was down in the safe halls, there wernt any real stragglers. Caught this one soaking wet unconscious in the street. Don't mind his face, had to keep him asleep." He chuckled a bit and went on " hes five silver if you wan' em. If not i'll offer him to the highest bidder." The man thought for a moment scratching his chin, " how old are you boy?" The big man barked. " six." He said meekly, the large man scared the boy there was something about him. The man moved from the shadows and into the light from the fire, he was clad in leathers and iron armor, he had a long sword equipped to his hip with an eagle head pommel on the handle. He recognized the symbol on his chest plate as the banner for the Deadmen. A skull with three red tears. The captains of these men are said to have tears tattooed on there faces for every battle they've won while in command. The Deadmen held the reputation for buying young boys as well as kidnapping them to fill their ranks. Creating a slave army of men who take orders without question.

"Sold."