[RP Episode] Slavers and Shackles


The pirate hesitated for a moment as he took deep successive breaths. ‘‘Mother FUCKer!’’ he roared in rage as he took a few steps back, turning around, taking in all the bodies around him in the room. All of them elves. ‘‘You CUNT, why fight for these foreigners, and in OUR waters!?’’ he continued, closing in on Halatir once again, and raising his hammer. ‘‘Give me ONE good reason not to bash your skull in! Traitor!’’


His response was a stream of shouted elvish, that bore almost no resemblance to the Niraii tongue. Halatir ceased for a moment.

”BITCH DO I LOOK LIKE ONE YOU!?” Luckily Halatir’s knowledge of the common tongue included insults. He continued shouting, gesturing to his hair, eyes, skin, and height. ”I am Helcelen. NOT Niraii.”


The pirate lowered his hammer, smiled at him, and grimly spoke, ‘‘Good.’’ before kicking him in the face, and knocking him out. When Halatir awoke, he was in a cage, again, but alone this time. It was dark and they were on a ship at sea. Night time on the calm open sea. Past a few cargo crates a light glowed dimly, where a table could be seen, and two pirates playing cards.


Halatir began to curse. His voice rang out, spewing foul obscenities in a flowing tongue that while foreign was obviously not dwelling politely on his situation. He cursed the pirates, the Niraii, the sea, the dead, the world at large, and pirates again.

After several minutes of raging, he trailed off, and began to take notice of his surroundings. He tried to stand, but a sharp pain in his leg reminded him. There was a large clot of blood around the wound, and his head was still ringing. Ripping his shirt off, or what remained of it, he bound it as tightly as he could over the hole in his thigh. He crawled backwards until he was sitting in an upright position, with his back braces against the bars of the cage, facing the door.


One of the Niirai pirates noticed the distant cursing of Halatir, and interupted the game of cards he was having with his comrade.

‘‘Oi! That white haired elf, i think he just came to!’’ he whispered to the other.
The other pirate did not seem too amused, ‘‘You’ve tried that trick three times now, shut the hell up, and draw a fokin’ card already.’'
But his friend insisted, ‘‘I’m serious mate! I heard him…’’
’‘You’re going to be seriously sorry if you don’t drop that this very second, and draw a card, ya fucktart.’’ the second one interrupted him with narrowed eyes.


■■■■ YOUUUUU" floated down the length of the ship. Halatir could see both the elven mariners, silhouetted against the light, and found something to focus his anger on. He continued to curse, filling the night air with a variety of insults, remarks, and descriptions of the pirates, their ancestors, their descendants, their smell, and most of all their profession, switching between his own tongue and common.


‘‘He’s cursing at us mate! And i think i’ve had enough of it too!’’ the first pirate stated as he dropped his deck of cards on the table and got up.
’‘Oh for fucks sake!..’’ the second one exclaimed, ‘‘I’ve had enough of yer’ cheating bullshit! Every time yer’ bout’ ta loose, ya find an excuse to walk awe! If this elf ain’t awake, i’m killin’ em’ for good so he’ll stay silent!’’
’‘Yer’ deaf old man.’’ the first one pointed out as they made their way to Halatir’s cage.

The first elf, a young blood by the looks of it, wearing a bunch of ragged clothes with some leather, alongside his elderly friend, who looked very much the same, but with an eye patch and with completely white hair and an abundance of age wrinkles.

‘‘Well, i’ll be damned, ye’ actually weren’t full o’ shait this time.’’ the elderly one admitted, somewhat grudgingly.


Halatir gathered up a gob of spit from his dry mouth, and spat. “You lot can drop off the world. Lenna-qual!” His wound flamed, and he yelled. "“MOTHERF-” The pain made him bite off the phrase.


The two looked at each other in unison, and exploded in laughter.
’‘Yer’ a funny little one. Ya kno?’’ the elderly elf states while he continues to giggle.
’‘Tell ya’ what? You shut that spit throwin’ gob of yer’s and i promise we won’t cut yer dirty little tongue out, kay?’’ he explained, and smiled at Halatir.


Halatir attempted to speak, but the wound in his leg made him convulse again, writhing on the floor. That probably saved his life. The pirate had been speaking in earnest.


The elderly elf’s smile intensified, showing his teeth. ‘‘Good lad.’’ he nodded, and walked away with his companion, ‘‘I should tell the other four that their ‘‘friend’’ is awake.’’ the younger one said, to which the elderly pirate replied with a simple ‘‘Aye.’’
’‘I should probably fetch that Sage to come down here.’’ the young blood continued, to which the elderly replied with another ‘‘Aye.’’ and they both vanished out of sight beyond the storage area.

In no time at all, the two returned, but this time they had Rhae with them.


Halatir had lost consciousness again in their brief absence. He lay, sprawled on the cage’s floor, one hand still gripping tightly to his wound.


Rhae looked at Halatir with a sorry expression, and then turned towards the two pirates.
’‘I thought you said he was awake?’’ she pointed out, scolding them.
The two shrugged, ‘‘Well… he was awake before we left…’’


Right on queue, Halatir stirred. There were now three pirates standing over him. Wait no, two pirates and Rhae. What?

“What the hell…” he murmured. He dragged himself back into a semi-upright position, his head swimming.


Rhae turned to Halatir quickly, and saw that he still drew breath, which she was glad to see. At least one of the Helcelen would survive. Or so she hoped. She saw that he tended to his wound himself while in the cage, but she did not worry about it, for she did do some mild healing magic on it when he was unconscious. Though, she was no medic. And neither were any of the pirates. She rather didn’t tie his wound up in any of the old and dirty pieces of cloth they had, but so much for that…

She kneeled in front of Halatir’s cage to lower herself to his height.
’‘You! You are okay. I am glad.’’ she sighed, ‘‘My deepest apologies for your pain, i did not plan for any of this. I am sorry for your friends. I told you, you weren’t in any condition to fight…’’ she told him, and with a short pause began explaining the situation, with some difficulty. ‘‘We are on board a pirate ship. Well… they are ‘‘privateers’’, meaning, pirates on a payroll from our empire to… well, to pirate. Anyone who isn’t us, that is! I tried getting them to release you, but they argue they have claimed all of our ship’s cargo as their prize, and… as you were technically a recently bought slave, that makes you cargo. So… hang in there.’’


Halatir looked at her looked at her with dead eyes.

“Yes master.” He did not know the feminine form of the noun. “As you wish.”


Rhae felt really bad about being called master. She did not want to have him as her property, but the other Niirai did not trust to release Halatir due to what the Slaver told them about him, and were cautious. ‘‘I will bring you food and drink, hang tight.’’ she said and barged off. In a little while, she came back with a bowl of rice with pieces of fish meat and peas, along with a jug of water. She placed the jug and bowl on the inner side of the cage, along with two chopsticks to eat with.


Hooking one hand around the water, he threw back his head and drank, taking care to not spill any of the precious liquid. He hadn’t had anything to drink in almost a day. Placing it aside after a minute, and keeping a wary eye on the Niraii, he began to eat, ignoring the chop-sticks.


Rhae left Halatir alone for most of their continued journey. She would bring him food, but they would scarcely exchange words, and she would leave as quickly as she would come. She would usually not come alone, but Halatir seemingly never even looked at at anyone else, as if they weren’t even there. He would not speak with anyone else either, for no one else cared about him. He was a burden in everyone’s eyes.

In a few days time, seagulls could be heard from the outside of the ship, and the ship would come in to port not too long after. Again, footsteps hurried about on the top deck as Halatir waited in his cage, locked up like an animal, with nothing else to do but think about his losses.

Eventually thought, hatches were opened, and Halatir’s cage was lifted out of the cargo hold, and put on to the wooden pier. And just like that, the world around him was as if turned upside down. There was no cold northern wind, only weak warm drafts that shuffled the leafs of many exotic looking trees, none of which were evergreen pines. He found himself in a rather large town on a river, and in its currently very busy port. The architecture and general look of this place was utterly alien, as were its people. How different the world looked when the streets were filled with Niirai and their elaborate fashion sense.

Halatir sat in his cage for a little while longer until three Niirai began pacing towards him with intent. He recognised two of them. The first was Rhae, the second was the ship’s captain, which he had seen one or twice where he boasted how he was the captain. But the third one he did not recognise. The third Niirai was wearing white robes and was carrying what looked like a thin piece of wood with a manifest pinned to it. They all came to a halt at Halatir’s cage, and the administrative looking elf asked, ‘‘And this slave?’’, to which both Rhae and the captain unanimously replied with ‘‘Mine.’’, and then immediately glared at each other.

The elf in robes raised both eyebrows at that response from both of them, and gave both of them a rather confused look. Turning from one to the other, as they were on his left and right.

‘‘I bought him from a slaver in Nigardheim, he belongs to me.’’ Rhae stated rather bitterly, but the captain was in an even fouler mood.
’‘I told ya woman, this piece of cargo was liberated on one of my runs, where i keep what i find, so back off, and be thankful i don’t charge ye’ for bringing yer’ pretty little face back ere’ with me!’’ the captain coughed.
’‘You didn’t liberate him, as you did not liberate my ship, but that of a human captain, and have kept his cargo. This elf was not his cargo, but my servant. That is what slaves are, isn’t it? Servants?’’ Rhae insisted.
The captain laughed, ‘‘He served ya’ while imprisoned, did he?’’
’‘Its complicated!’’ she yelled, and then the robed elf intervened.
’‘Listen you two, if you don’t decide who it belongs to, this will be taken to court. And if neither of you can submit a righteous claim that this elf is indeed property of either, then he will be taken by the state.’’ he explained, swung his manifest under his arm, ‘‘And neither of you will probably ever see him again, nor what he is worth.’’ and barged off.


Halatir was a mess. His hair was almost black, there were sunburns along his unprotected back, and his clothes were torn to ribbons. All he had left was his pain. He hadn’t said a word since Rhae had started to feed him, merely eating and returning to a gloomy state of existence, his head hanging down, his face covered by wisps of dirty hair.

As the conversation between the three elves had been in a variant he did not recognize, although it bore a few very slight similarities in pronunciation, he had no clue, or interest in the small group. He waited patiently, sitting in the cage. His body was incredibly cramped, the muscles aching with ill-use and his limbs weighing him down like heavy stones.