D&D Way to Sword Coast

Chapter 15: Chains

Part 2: The Party

When had it all become familiar? When had the cold metal floor become comfortable to sleep on? When had the bruises stopped hurting? When had she become numb to the pain every-time she coughed? When had she stopped noticing the iron collar about her throat or the shackles on her arms?

There was a village, a fishing village near the ocean. She had parents, and friends...all gone...lost to blade and fire. Their faces...why couldn't she remember their faces? When did her old life become a memory?

Was it about the time she stopped counting the bars? Or was it when she could no longer smell her own filth? Maybe it was about the time the moans of the others faded to white noise. Maybe it was when she could no longer taste the gruel the Master foisted upon her.

Was it the day before? A week? Or had it already been a month? She could no longer tell tucked away amongst the other cages. It could've been either summer or winter and she couldn't feel it through the thick walls of the market. She would've wept for not knowing had she any tears left to spend.

That was the moment, Lesmythe realized dejectedly. The moment the tears dried she'd stopped caring she was a slave. And with them, every last vestige of hope.

"What makes you think I would want a slave?" The voice was deep, sounding like stone grinding on stone. Its depth silenced what few murmuring voices existed within the market.

"I dunno the fact that they can neither lie nor betray you." That was the Master's voice. Not nearly as deep as the first but very low.

"Why is that?" the first voice demanded.

"Because our slaves are controlled by a magical seal." The master explained. "Any act of disobedience against the owner will result in pain." Lesmythe couldn't help but rub at the symbol tattooed between her breasts. She no longer felt the itch of the brand. When had that happened? "Continuous disobedience...hehe" The Master was still speaking, "...well you get the idea."

So, the Master was here to peddle his wares to a potential customer. In some distant part of her mind, she wondered what they were in the market for. Her stomach churned at the thought of being someone else's plaything.

About that time Lesmythe felt her chest ache and constrict. Clutching at her torso she tried to suppress the cough but that only made it worse. Her body shook as each cough rattled within her chest.

There was silence beyond her bars, then heavy footsteps. Some distant part of her soul whimpered in fear. The canvas curtain was tossed aside. Dread filled her the moment her eyes adjusted to the lantern light. Before her loomed a thing out of a nightmare.

It was like no human or near-human she'd ever seen. It stood upright with two arms and legs but that was where the similarities ended. Where toes and fingers should've been were dark claws, perfect for rending flesh. In the place of skin were row upon row of scales that glowered in the dim light. Amber eyes stared down a long snout that housed rows of pointed teeth.

The dragon-like visage glared down at her, nostrils flaring as it caught her scent. Its eyes flashed making her flinch. It sneered in disgust. The dragonkin dropped the flap only when the Master directed him towards another cage. The canvas hadn't fallen completely back into place. Lesmythe was still able to observe the stranger. The Master was showing off a lycan. The werewolf growled and shook its cage, showing off its strength and savagery.

"How much for this one?" The dragonkin asked. That voice sent a chill down her spine and made her teeth grind. What kind of beast could carry such a presence? For his part, the dragonkin didn't sound interested, more curious. Either way, Lesmythe was relieved he was no longer focused on her. The Master gushed over the various qualities of the lycan before finally stating the price. "How does fifteen gold sound?"

The dragonkin scoffed. "Showing me your most expensive slave knowing full well I can't afford it?"

The Master chuckled, "Indeed, just putting my best foot forward as it were." The dragonkin scoffed again, his gaze drifting off to examine other nearby slaves. Undeterred the Master continued, "To help me out, what exactly kinda slave you looking for?"

"One that's cheap and obedient," the Dragonkin snarled. The venom in his voice sent another shiver up her spine. She'd heard of beings like him. Cheap slaves meant they were disposable. Stories circulated, even amongst the slave pens, of necromancers utilizing them for experiments and of cultists using them as sacrifices. Was that what the dragonkin had in mind?

The pair turned and started to walk back towards the line of cages where Lesmythe lay. She shrank backward stifling her cough as best she could. Averting her eyes and making herself as small as possible so as to not draw the attention of that beast again.

"Well these slaves aren't suited for combat or hard labor," the Master explained sounding a bit disappointed.

"Doesn't matter," the Dragonkin growled eyeballing each of the slaves in turn, "If I need them to fight, I'll train them." Fighting? Did that mean the dragonkin wanted a slave for battle as conscript? The idea of fighting and dying for the pleasure of such a creature made her feel sick to her stomach.

The Master laughed again, "That's an amusing response, seeing as you don't believe in people."

"Slaves aren't people," he replied making Lesmythe shudder, "Training them would be no different than upgrading my gear."

The Master laughed again. They paused before the cages. "These are the cheapest slaves I can offer you. Other than the dead ones of course." He added the last bit in a low voice that the Dragonkin seemed to ignore. The Master gestured saying "On the left I have-."

"Raise your head." Lesmythe froze when she realized the command had been directed at her. Another bout of coughing shook her torso. Slowly she turned to gaze up into the burning gaze of the Dragonkin.

The master scoffed. "That mangy half-elf is sick as a dog, and couple spokes short of a cartwheel, hehe. I'm having a helluva time with her myself." Lesmythe recoiled as the master smacked the bars of her cage with the end of his cane. The Master was a cruel man but something about the Dragonkin made her want to scream in terror. "Her last owner loved his torture hehe." The very mention of the Viscount made her back itch and her stomach cramp uncontrollably.

Shrugging the Master attempted to redirect the Dragonkin away from her. "She's not long for this world I'm afraid." He started to indicate the werecat in the next cage, "Might I suggest-."

"I've decided," Lesmythe trembled uncontrollably beneath those amber eyes. If there was any aspect of her hope still intact it was immediately shattered as his finger pointed directly at her. "She'll do."