Open Chronicles Links of Destiny

[The Vesperai]

Spoiler: Music

"Step up, come right up, show up; feast your eyes on the prize, people!"

"Elves from Falwood, real genuine elves, full blooded, speaks Elvish flawlessly . . ."

"Dwarven craftsmen, tireless as stone! Buy seven for the price of six!"

"Orcs, as big and green as they come, feisty and furious, bodyguards, gladiators, labourers, you name the want!"

"Drow twins, get your drow twins, cheaper than seven dwarves and worth ten times as much--"

"Oy, you shut your trap!"

"Kivren with LEGS! Get your hands on a kivren with LEGS!"

The hollering voices pounded his ears. Sound had a strange, sharp quality to it out of water. Too loud. Too unconnected; drifting off into air. The Vesperai tested his arms against their restraints . . . chains still wrapped around them, as well as his legs. He stood spread-eagled between two pillars, hoisted aloft like the catch of the day. Except it wasn't fish being sold in this market. Sluggishly, he raised his teal-tinted head, gills fluttering weakly with distress.

Here, people were peddled.

He needed to be in water soon. He was drying up in the heat and sun, even with the overcast sky. Cerak at'thul's climate was usually endurable, mostly because water was never far away. This was the first time his skin had burned and cooked so painfully.

Still, despite his disorientation and his exhaustion, he connected the shouted name Kivren with his captor's voice. So that was what they thought him to be. No doubt they mistook him for something else. None of his kin had made it this far from home.

It seemed increasingly unlikely that he would ever return and tell them what a terrible place the surface was. All around him, faces coloured in varying degrees by the sun leered at him, or speculated his worth, crowding his stand.

 

[Kristopher Mortas]

Overcast made it easier. It was still bright, and it was still... sunlight. His heavy hood, drawn long over his face, helped exponentially, but still, the Vampire had to make do.

A trail had led him here, and cold and calculated positions taken had pushed him further into the depravity of the world. The Vampire stood in the crowd, observing, watching. Lives traded for profit. It was hard to care, when he'd outlive everyone here. If he was unsuccessful, that is.

Eyes flickered over to something he did not understand. Bipedal. But.... not quite elf. Not human, certainly. Smelled off. A scratch of his chin, and the Vampire turned his back to the sun. For the moment, he watched. It was not a Kivren. That much he knew. They smelled like saltwater, something to do with their blood. Their blood did not taste the same either.

He did not smell like Kivren.

The Vampire made eye contact with the "Kivren with legs". Pale, yellowed eyes locked in on him. Even in this part of the world- the eyes of a Vampire, a creature of the night, were unwelcome and frankly, more importantly unsettling.