Log: Slavery for Firans

From FiranMUX

Anarinuell: Palace District -- The Great Library

Along the wall comes a young haffie slinking - it is a juvenile, but its features are so Shamibelian that it might cause some to double-take for another look. It has thin, angular features and thick, bold horns jutting out of the top of its forehead - but despite its intimidating appearance, its eyes are lowered, its shoulders slumped slightly, and it sticks to the shadows. This is Tikhta.

Taquil has arrived.

For the event several tables have been taken away to clear a space for the audience to sit on chairs. One table was left and behind it are two chairs. One for Timandra and one for Bashar. Now that the refreshment shave arrived safely Timandra is able to sit down and speak quietly with Bashar before the event begins.

Alexa has arrived.

Having already claimed a spot on the wall, Rinzik makes it his own. He has defined a zone, and it is a no-haffie zone, apparently, because he gives Tikhta a warning glance with a brief narrowing of his eyes. He takes a step away, folds his arms over his chest, and turns his attention forward toward Bashar.

Timandra whispers "If there is anything that makes you nervous or uncomfortable do not worry about it and just let me know."

Alexa makes her way into the library, sneezes softly... darned scroll dust. Just a little allergy to excessive paperwork, you know... and finds a good place to sit to listen.

Apalonius comes into the library with his young son in tow, pausing inside the door to scoop up the boy and rest him on his hip. He works his way over towards a chair, pausing to look in at the refreshments. His mouth twists briefly at the selection, but he takes some spinach and meat, then moves to sit. Spotting the haffie, he frowns, making sure to position his son on the knee /away/ from the boy.

Taquil nods to Alexa, and just about gives here a salute. "------"

Daemio has arrived.

Bashar looks rigid, clearly keeping his intention to fidget under tight control. His eyes flicker over the growing crowd, then leans in to Timandra and murmurs briefly to her. It doesn't keep him from looking rigid however.

Tanya has arrived.

Daemio slips in quietly and looks around, his scroll in hand.

Emma pushes through the doors, beating her guards to the punch as she strides briskly into the library. The two well armored men behind her give each other a look, as the young Firgalik seems to be trying to lose them in the gathering crowd. They take a hint and move towards the back wall, keeping their eyes on the back of the young Gold Dragon woman's head as she settles in at the one of the front-most chairs, near the two who are going to put on the presentation. Turning to glance towards her guards to make sure they're at least still in the vicinity, her eyes instead alight on the haffie. She sneers at it, then swiftly snaps her head back towards Timandra and Bashar.

You whisper "Thanks...I'll be okay. It's easier when getting going." to Timandra.

Tikhta jerks aside at such a pace that is likely draws attention, but it is apparently only to slide into a tiny alcove away from the main crowd. It turns its haunting grey eyes toward the front of the room, cautiously avoiding eye contact with anyone around him.

Zinara has arrived.

Alexa stands to properly return the salute, and returns to sitting. Darned military protocols. Such a pain sometimes.

Timandra pats Bashar on the shoulder and stands up. She looks around the cleared area of chairs to see the audience grow. Her gaze cannot help but be drawn to the halfie boy but she doesn't sneer or stare and soon her tawny gaze moves on. She places her hands on the table in front of her, it being the only table in the vicinity at the moment, and walks around it to stand in front of it. As there are nobles she curtsies. "Please make yourselves comfortable, I'll say a few opening words and we'll begin in a moment."

Daemio stops dead and stares at Tikhta. The young lord's jaw tightenes and his fist closes around his scrolls, threatening to harm them. Those black eyes that are so often distracted some to a frighteningly sharp focus.

Taquil finds a seat for the Dame General and pulls it back for her.

Alexa inclines her head to Taquil for his courtesy, smiling softly.

Taquil nods to Alexa, "------" He finds a seat nearby, if not next to her.

Oblivious to (or perhaps just used to) the cold stares, the haffie creature reaches into the folds of his tunic and brings forth a small stack of crisps - he begins to nibble at one. The creature does not make an attempt to claim a seat, prefering to stay some distance from the crowd, apparently.

Daemio grinds his teeth. "Get. It. Out." The little lord rumbles to no one in particular.

Alexa motions to a humble ganger and they engage in brief conversation.

Bashar does not immediately seem to notice Tikhta, despite the halffie's generally noticeable appearance. He looks over at Timandra as she prepares to start. He idly rubs at his knuckles and apparently steadies himself for the event.

To be certain she can be heard in the back Timandra raises her voice a little and says, "I want to welcome you all to this unique event at the Great Library. With is us Mer Bashar Sarkarik," she half turns to gesture to the man sat behind her, "a suvivor of slavery. He is a little nervous so please be generous with your kindness to him. I am going to ask him a series of questions to help him feel more comfortable explaining what was undeniably a horrific time in his life. At the end I am going to read a list of names, a list of those people believed to be captured by the Shamibelians and ask you to observe a moment's silence and pray with me for these people. It will be up to Mer Sarkarik if he wishes to take any questions from the audience at the end. There are refreshments for everyone in the amphora," she nods towards it, "I must request that the dishes - Lord Daemio, the Great Library is a Republic building and as such all Republic citizens are privileged enough to have access to it. If the mer's presence upsets you please come sit at the front so your eyes do not have to look upon him. If he causes trouble have no doubt I will have him removed." Whatever she had been going to say about the food is forgotten.

Alexa looks at Daemio and narrows her eyes a bit at him. But for now, she keeps her peace.

Zinara makes her way into the Great Library, hopefully not late! Before the nobles, her hands flutter upwards to check her hairpins and then she dips into a curtsey and moves for a chair herself. At the sight of Timandra, her smile grows and she waggles her fingers to her.

Tikhta freezes, half a tart still in hand, as Daemio's growling statement is uttered. The creature swallows hard and its hand jerks furtively, but otherwise it does not move.

Tylar settles in on Apalonius's lap, pulling up a fold of his tunic to chew silently on the linen. Apalonius turns his eyes away from the skulking creature of shadow in the back as Timandra speaks, looking forward towards the hosts. He rests his hand on his son's head absently as he listens.

Tanya slips in and makes her way over to Alexa. "------------" she murmurs as she looks for a chair.

Taquil stands, and offers Tanya a salute, before she sits.

Daemio looks at Timanda, "That is not a citizen of the republic Mes. That is the face of your enemy. You host an event to discuss what happens to slaves. I suggest you listen very - closely because your obvious ignorance of the subject is exceedingly apparent in your tolerance of that thing." Complete and utter distain drips from his words. "Do you want to know how those creatures are put above your firan breathren. How they gloat as they whip and rape and kill your enslaved cousins? Would you like to know how they're made? I was only six when I was freed and I still saw it every where. Would you like to know how they send - here to play on the pity of people like you while they spy on us and send our secrets back to their once and still masters. Would you like to really know what a slaves life is Mes Timandra or are you just here to listen to the pretty clean scrubbed version of the tale that you're comfortable -"

Emma glances towards the young Griffon lord, her eyes narrowing almost as much as they did for the haffie. Why does it always come down to being on the side of a Griffon, or the side of some abomination or another? She frowns further, then decides to ignore them both. Her inky black eyes move back towards the front of the room, and she regards the hostess and the former slave with curiosity.

Tikhta begins to slowly, very slowly, inch toward the door. Its eyes are on Daemio, wide and unblinking, and aside from the quiet shuffling of its feet, it makes no other noise.

Alexa fixes the young nobleman with a hard look. "That is a victim of our enemy, young lord. Are you saying that the blood of our enemy is stronger than ours?"

Bashar looks around between Timandra and Daemio, and only then spots Tikhta. His expression immediately darkens and he glowers at Tikhta, which seems to be his way of avoiding speaking in the direction of Timandra and Daemio.

Daemio stares after Tikhta, "Yes you scurry away you little rat. Go run back to your little hole." It's hard to imagine so much venom can come from such a young boy but it's there burning in every word. "Dame Mother Alexa, you would agree that by virtue of blood the nobility are superior to common folks wouldn't you? That is the general concensous I understand?"

Tarran has arrived.

Tarran scoots in breathlessly

Tikhta does not leave - it lingers toward the door, eyes still wide in an almost comical way. The creature simply stands there awaiting an attack or an order of expulsion perhaps, its back slumped slightly, and its shoulders pulled together around its horned head.

"Lord Daemio if you would like to speak about your experiences of slavery then we can do so, but this evening we are here to listen to Sentry Sarkarik. Now I will ask you to please sit down and become a respectful member of this audience so that the sentry who is quite nervous can speak. Should you wish to contribute at the end I will graciously open the floor to you," says Timandra with polite coolness.

Tanya says calmly but loudly enough, "And as such, nobility has a responsibility to not act so common. One does not voice all opinionsw for all to hear, for some words could inflame already high tempers and then finds that a crowd gets out of control and then the one causing it finds that it might have been wiser to keep the month shut."

Malatan has arrived.

Daemio looks to Tanya, "How many times to we need to get burned before we learn our lessons? Polite silence only allows ignorance to fester on when it should have been elliminate ages ago." He moves stiffly to the front and sits nodding to the speaker respectfully.

"Actually," Bashar interjects for the first time, as he looks up at Timandra, "it's Centurion Sarkarik now." Now that he's spoken, however, he raises his attention to Daemio. "And if it makes you feel any better, m'lord...I am certainly not going to sugar coat anything about slavery. Whoever's in the audience."

Tarran grins at Tikhta and hands him a tart, "Here you goes, Kammie brat. Compliments of Prince Argin."

Emma has to turn her head to watch the young lord spew his venom in the direction of the younger haffie. "They're both rather disruptive, that... /thing/ simply by virtue of being what it is, and the young Sennet, because he lets his emotions overcome him like," she flits her gaze towards Tanya, and nods, "yes, a commoner. I say we simply ignore them both." By the time she's turned back towards Timandra, Daemio is sitting nicely and her words probably don't carry as much weight. Oh well.

Daemio nods to Bashar, "I appreciate that Centurion. My apologies for the interuption I expect of all people you would understand."

Timandra turns back towards Bashar and smiles, "Forgive my incorrect use of your rank, Centurion." She nods her thanks to the Sennet boy and moves around the table to retake her seat. She takes a piece of papyrus from the table and smiles reassuringly at Bashar. "For those who do not know him Mer Bashar Sarkarik came to this city with no last name. He has earned himself both a good reputation and a last name by service to the Cockatrice Clan, he is also a Republic Centurion, as he kindly pointed out to me." She turns towards Bashar and asks the first of the night's questions, "Centurion, please can you tell us all how it was you came to be a slave?"

Tikhta remains motionless, still standing rigidly by the door. It accepts the tart from the older boy and squints at it, and then at him, as if the gesture inspired confusion. Still though, the beast stacks the new tart with the old and folds it into his tunic somewhere, glad that the attention seems to have shifted away from it. The beast mutters something to its young benefactor.

Bashar smiles a little wryly at Daemio, acknowledging his understanding of Daemio's position. He settles in to ignoring Tikhta for the moment; perhaps the talk will be instructive to...it. "Ah, thank you. I was very young...honestly, I'm not quite sure how young, now, but five at most. My family went on a pilgrimage from Unotran to Agadin to see the Oracle when a group of Shamibelians came raiding. I don't even know how many of my family were killed then...I just remember getting dragged out from under a wagon by the hair and taken to a camp. And I have never been able to find my family again; I know some of them died, but if any were captured, I never saw them."

Marsalos has arrived.

Taquil frowns at Bashar's words, sighing.

Daemio listens intently though his posture is still rigid and stiff.

Timandra frowns at the imagery Bashar's words create. She lets them sink in and looks out at the crowd then back at him and asks her next question, "Centurion Sarkarik, what would you say was your earliest memory of the Shamibelian people?"

Tarran nods, "I haded a friend taken by raiders, Mes Aglaia."

Marsalos steps in out of the heavy rain outside, wiping a bit of moisture off his cheek. He remains in the back of the room and the crowd, loosely folding his arms to watch.

Daemio grinds his teeth more though at the mention of Aglaia. Apparently this is all a touchy subject for the now liberated lordling.

Bashar rubs at his jaw. "My first memory of the Shamibelians is my capture, but that's a very fuzzy memory, truthfully. My first real clear memory is after I was auctioned off. I was picked to be a soldier right off and trained. I never really found out how they thought they were going to use me, I escaped before then; the rest of the time I was just working in the fields. I remember this horned giant poking and prodding me and deciding what I would be." He pauses for a minute and notes, "I remember I wasn't in the room with any women. I didn't quite understand that at the time, but I do now."

Cyprian has arrived.

Emma's eyes flash at the centurion's words about the women, her jaw tightening. She shifts uneasily in her seat, her attention rapt upon Bashar.

Zinara lofts her eyebrows but remains quiet, lips pursed. Her hands move unconsciously to straighten and fidget with her clothes, though her eyes are settled on Bashar.

Tikhta stays completely quiet now, intent on keeping out of everyone's line-of-sight. It listens with a squint, the angular lines of its thin face wrinkling ways that are somewhat odd. It slumps against the wall with its too-thin arms crossed, silent.

Timandra nods slowly and asks Bashar, "Can you explain why, but perhaps keep in mind there are maidens and children present?"

Tarran sighs heavily.. he wants to know the real stuff.

"Firan /families/ don't really exist as well as we think of them in this city." Bashar licks his lips for a minute. "Sometimes a Shamibelian will give his slaves permission to marry, but more often, he'll simply...tell them to breed. Or attend to it himself." He pauses again to let this image sink in. "Families are separated unless a group of slaves can /convince/ their master, one way or another, to keep them together. They definitely don't have any respect for marriages that exist before a Firan is captured."

Tanya is listening. Every once in a while, her brow furrows but aside from a very low whisper or two to Alexa, she is still.

Marsalos hears a messenger meekly calling his name outside. Persistently. He rolls his eyes slightly at the insistence, slipping out so as not to interrupt with noise.

Marsalos has left.

Cyprian listens thoughtfully, and being a contrary old man but a patient one he'll wait to ask Bashar his questions until after the meeting, he has a few, and they are not easy on him. However, for once he isn't humming, resting the harp against his leg sitting bolt upright, he does notice the legendary Alexa Wolfhawke.

One phrase sticks in Timandra's mind and she finds herself repeating it as she looks back towards where Tikhta stands, "Attend to it himself." She shakes her head and releases a soft sight then moves on to her next question. "Centurion, you have mentioned being captured while on a holy pilgrimage, and you have mentioned being in the slave market and being poked and prodded like a farmer would to livestock he considered purchasing. What is the strongest memory you have of the Shamibelian who," she pauses and her features become hard as she forces out the rest of the question, "believed himself to be your master?"

"My strongest memory of the horned bastard is the day..." Bashar hesitates, then holds up his left hand with its middle finger quite grotesquely missing. The injury is clearly extremely old. "When I was ten, a group of slaves made a break for freedom. I was too young, I would have slowed them down, so I helped create a distraction. I don't really know what happened to them, but they never came back and the Shamibelian who owned me was furious. And he knew that we Firans believe that our bodies must be burned whole for our souls to be freed. So he cut off my finger, put it in a vial and wore it on a leather necklace to /remind/ me of," he face darkens, "my /place/." The vitriol dripping from his tone is palpable, and his fist curls involuntarily.

Tarran gulps and goes a bit pale, "That's the pits!"

Tikhta winces, staring at Bashar's hand almost guiltily. "Soul death," the beast whispers to itself.

Daemio's shoulders tremble a little in barely contained anger for the man.

Emma shifts tensely, her throat tightening to make it diffucult for her to swallow as she stares at Bashar and his missing finger.

Apalonius listens in quiet stillness, his strong arms wrapped around his son. For the most part, Tylar doesn't seem to be paying attention. What he does hear, he doesn't seem to understand. But Apalonius clearly does, and as Bashar speaks, the Hydran pilot lifts his hand to rest on the boy's head, holding it close to his shoulder, and lowers his head to brush his lips against the dark hair.

Timandra closes her eyes briefly and says, "Imagine the horror of a ten-year-old boy knowing he could not die and be put to rest." She shakes her head with disgust and looks to Bashar, "Tell us, Centurion, tell us how you came to be free from such a place of debasement and horror." Firan

Cyprian gets up from where he is sitting, and he walks over to Bashar, and he is a contrary old man and he lowers down and sits down in front of everyone, and he says to Bashar, "So what happened to the finger, you know its a vital part of your soul. Is it .." Cyprian's features paled visibly, "... still there?"

"Actually," Bashar replies, after that horror has clearly sunk in for all the listeners, "I /did/ get it back...and still have it." He does not, however, produce the 18 year severed digit. "I kept my head down for the next five years. It made life easier...and finally, I was left alone in the tent with the goat while he was distracted, going over some kind of maps. I took an axe, came up behind him...and after that? Took back my finger and started running for Unotran to look for my family...which I never found, sad to say."

Tikhta swallows hard, watching and listening with an expression of quiet dread. Its already pallid complexion only looks worse as it blanches at the details in the narrator's tale.

Though it likely would interest some, undoubtely there are others who are please Bashar doesn't show them the finger - Timandra amongst them. "Centurion, as we've already established you are a soldier and an experienced war veteran. What is it that drives you to go to war?" Timandra looks over at Cyprian with a quirked brow but then looks back at Bashar to hear his answer.

Tarran looks at Tikhta, catching his concern, "Don't worry, kid," he mutters, "You's one of us now."

Bashar's reply is ready for this question. "Because I don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone else. Because I want to defend my family. Also because I'm good at it and if I'm completely honest with myself...because I want to get back at them for what they did to me and to all of us Firans. And I hate to think, ever, about the people who are still slaves in Ellish."

Tikhta gives Tarran a blank look, offering no acknowledgement to the words. It remains just a foot or so from the door, as if poised to race out should the tales of Shamibelian atrocities force someone to confront the haffie physically. Still, it seems positively transfixed by Bashar's words - it listens, eyes wide.

Timandra smiles softly at Bashar, "Thank you for telling us your story, Centurion Sarkarik. Thank you for being brave enough to relive such horrific memories. I've just one more question for you now. Is there anything else you would like to tell us, about your experience as a slave or slavery in general? Anything at all?"

Cyprian looks at Bashar, and he nods his head as he makes a note of his features, he was definitely going to have to talk about him, and he thought as he sat there how wonderful it would be to compose a ballard about his heroic deeds.

Emma stands, dips her head politely to Bashar and Timandra, then briskly makes her way out, guards joining her as she slips through the exit.

Emma has left.

Bashar pauses for a moment to consider this. "The big thing is not to forget what we're talking about when we think of fighting the Shamibelians. They are brutal, they love pain and torment, and they will crush the spirit out of anyone they capture if given the chance. So if you're captured? Bide your time, and wait your chance. And for those of us who are free...don't take it for granted."

Cyprian praised Bashar because 'An extremely brave man, of untold skill and quality. A fine soldier, and Firan, a man I will take great pleasure in writing a great ballard about.'!

Daemio nods firmly to Bashar's words. Amen to that!

Shortly after Emma, the haffie creature slips out.

Tikhta has left.

Cyprian has left.

Timandra nods and turns over her scroll. "Thank you again Centurion. Please everyone, if you can hold your applause just a moment or two longer." She rises to her feet, "I would like to read the names of people from Anarinuell who we believe to have been captured by the Shamibelians and ask you to pray, to whomever you chose, for them." She lowers her gaze to the scroll and begins, "Amelita Istariniad, Mer Bamik, Sentry Cyrek Dristarna, Sentry Dodon Istariniad, Felicite Honoria, General Firgus Keniwik, Sentry Gadrik, Mer Guilio Areezar, Captain Jeronika Cottonmouth, Centurion Zutrinia Cottonmouth, Captain Warden Kaliko Jaffus, Mer Lupos Ravenseye, Mer Paulos Rabiashik, Mes Serra Zuriaki, Mes Throgana Zutivik,Mes Upera, Captain Vellik Garkansen, Mer Yunus Parnassis, and Mes Ziella." She then closes her eyes to pray.

Tarran jumps up, "Hey! What abouts aggie?" Firan

Daemio looks back at Tarran and nods stiffly, "Yes Mes Aglaia should be on that list." Firan

Zinara closes her eyes momentarily as if in prayer. Alexa closes her eyes momentarily as if in prayer. Bashar closes his eyes momentarily as if in prayer. Tarran closes his eyes momentarily as if in prayer.

Apalonius starts to close his eyes, but as Tarran jumps up, he turns to stare at the boy in frank astonishment. His eyes track over to Daemio, then to Timandra, and then he exhales through his nose and again lowers his head for a moment.

Apalonius closes his eyes momentarily as if in prayer.

Zinara lowers her head and closes her eyes in prayer. Her hands are clasped tightly together and she's a bit pale from the story.

Malatan closes his eyes momentarily as if in prayer. Rinzik closes his eyes momentarily as if in napping. Or prayer. Hard to tell.

Daemio doesn't bow his head. He watches all of them and looks back up to the front to Bashar.

Tarran plays out The Heroes Return, playing with strength and passion of the return of those who battled valiantly, welcoming them home.

Akai has arrived.

Timandra looks up from her prayer and nods, "And Mes Aglaia. There are also thousands of other Firans taken from other cities who are held in captivity. Firans who's names are not known to us here." She rolls up the scroll and turns towards Bashar and applauds him. "Thank you. Thank you so very much. I will leave it up to you Centurion if you wish to take questions."

Timandra cheers Bashar!

Malatan slips quietly out into the rain after the offer of a prayer, head tipped thoughtfully down.

Malatan has left.

Tarran cheers Bashar!

Daemio rises and smooths over his poor crumpled scroll. The young lord looks around the room and nods to himself seeing the halfie gone. "Thank you Centurion."

Rinzik has left.

Bashar was prepared to ignore Tarran's outburst for his friend, which he can understand thinking about a captured friend. But suddenly breaking into song before a moment of silence ends, that does not strike him as acceptable. He glowers at the boy through the entirety of his song. "Boy," he says at the end, softly but audibly, "you really need to learn when it's not appropriate to start /singing/." He nods to Daemio, respectfully.

Tarran turns bright red, "But .. but .. I was praisin you guys." Firan

Apalonius sits quietly for a moment, watching Timandra and the centurion. As Bashar scolds Tarran, Apalonius nods faintly, his mouth twisting, and then rises, hoisting Tylar onto his hip as he does so. He moves past a few chairs to the aisle, then makes his way to the back of the room and the exit.

"It was a moment of /silence/ for the captured," Bashar points out to Tarran. "Soldiers appreciate all the support we can get, but that moment was supposed to be about them." His tone is actually fairly gentle, all things considered. "Uh, any other questions?" he reiterates for Timandra.

Tarran bows his head, finding his boots very interesting all of a sudden, "Ahh .. sorry, sir."

Tanya says "--- ---- -- ------ --- ------ -------------- -------"

Alexa looks to Bashar and says, "Yes, Centurion, I have one. Having had been assigned to dealing with some former slaves, how would you explain why some seem to /prefer/ slavery?"

Tanya repeats, just in case, "You were in Ellish the entire time, Centurion Bashar?

Daemio looks back over as the Ticanee begin to ask questions. "Mes Timandra, do --- have a moment when the questions are done?"

Apalonius has left.

Timandra moves over to Daemio and leans down to speak to him quietly.

Bashar considers Tarran for a moment. "That's all right," he accepts the apology, and leaves it at that. "Ah...Second question first. Yes, after the raiding camps, I spent the rest of my time in and around Ellish. We were a little outside the city when escaped, but I was never far from the city. And, well..." He turns his expression on Alexa, frowning slightly at the question. "Well.../I/ never really understood it. I always wanted to fight free. I think some of them...grow to depend on it. They don't know what to /do/ without someone telling them what they should do. And like I said the Shamibelians /really/ mess with your mind if you fight them hard all the time."

Daemio nods to the woman, "Of course Mes Timandra."

Daemio looks back to the group. "Dame Mother, I think I can answer your question as well."

Timandra moves off to the side to let Bashar handle the questions, becoming a silent observer.

Timandra has left.

Zinara gets to her feet, offering Bashar a small smile. The Cockatrice makes her way towards the exit, pausing to curtsey to Tanya and Daemio.

Zinara has left.

Alexa looks to Daemio and nods. "I would welcome hearing, as it was something that I struggled to deal with. Unfortunately, in the end, I ultimately failed to bring them around, though I was fighting not only the Shamibelians, but ourselves, I think."

Taquil has left.

Having made a fool of himself, Tarran slips out quietly

Daemio looks up at the savage priestess, "The ones who accept it are either the ones who are usually alone. Either they've been slaves their whole lives and never ------- to be with ----- families or they've been caught alone and don't have the strength to hold onto their beliefs. The Enemies make them miserable. And yet every time they accept their beliefs ---- let up a little. So that life is more barible accepting slavery than struggling against it. It is hard... so hard to resist. We were lucky. My family. We had eachother to keep eachother strong. Not many have that there. Centurion Basher is extreamely strong to have held out as long as he did."

Tarran has left.

Daemio grimices a bit, "The problem for all of us who have been enslaved I think though is that when we get free the things that allowed us to survive and remain sane in slavery, are not nessesarily helpful here in this city any more. Like being a little too stubborn and hard headed to allow anyone change your mind about anything may be a very very useful trait in resisting the Enemies attempt to break you and yet when you come here it makes it hard for people to teach you things... for example."

Alexa mmms and nods. "I would agree with that. When one is not noble, it is hard to be accepted when you've been raised... differently."

Bashar nods sagely at Daemio. "I think you've got the idea, m'lord," he acknowledges. "For me...well, once they took my finger, I was not about to turn back." He pauses for a minute. "And it took me some time when I returned to Firan lands to get settled again."

Daemio nods to Alexa, "Those who seem to prefer slavery are broken. Especially the women... it's their only way of surviving with out losing their minds completely. That doesn't make it okay by any strech. Infact I think they should -treated as anyone else with an illness of the mind who is a - enemy should be. But it is what they've had to become to survive because they were not strong enough to fight."

Tanya says "And they trained you to be a soldier?"

Tanya blinks. "You want the women banished? That is what normally happened when people are not right in their minds!"

"They did train me to fight," Bashar acknowledges. "I was fifteen when I got away, so I never really found out whether they thought they were going to take me to the front lines, which would have been quite a mistake on their part. I think they were planning to use me for guarding and raiding."

Tanya says "How did you make them trust you with such skills? Knowing you had helped others escape?"

Daemio looks over to Tanya, "If they cannot change their loyalties within a reasonable period of time yes. Would you suffer an Enemy to live in your house? I would not. I don't know that any of you realize what will happen when we take Ellish back... how many of our own people we will have to put to the sword to save those --- truely desire freedom."

Alexa crosses her arms at Daemio and says, "There is a city filled with slaves, my lord. The way you speak, there is no hope that they can be saved. Would you suggest that when we retake Ellish, they should be purged?"

Tanya stares at Daemio.

"Well, I wasn't fighting them every day; that's part of what I meant about biding your time," Bashar replies to Tanya. "I saved my resistance for the times it really mattered, when lives were at stake." He pauses, considering Daemio. "It /will/ be hard if we retake Ellish," he admits. "Great, but hard."

Daemio shakes his head, "No. My mother is in Ellish Dame Alexa and I intend to be on the front lines myself when we breach the city and take it back. I know that there are many of those slaves who will fight against us for their masters though. I do know that there are many who will try and - us. I don't - any illusions about what is there. I was born there. Not everyone will cheer us and call us liberators."

Alexa mm hms and leans forward a bit. "I do not expect to be cheered. Change is unsettling. Unwelcome often times. The unknown is frightening. However, I have seen how people treat those who were former slaves...whether they have tainted blood or not. They treat them with cruelty and mockery. Do you feel that this behavior will teach those who know nothing else that freedom is better than slavery?"

Daemio nods to Bashar and his expression looks a little saddened at the prospect. "And the Half breeds. There will be them to deal with as well. I know we focus on 'getting to Ellish', it's a long way off. But some times I think everyone assumes when we get there we're done." He shrugs his narrow shoulders. "I think Dame Alexa that we should be exceedingly careful in all things related to our Enemies. I do not understand how so many tolerate that which clearly is trecherious so often. I don't understand why people would rather be polite than do what is nessesary. But then perhaps that's my own outmoded survival instincts at play."

"It will take time for some of them," Bashar is willing to grant, "at least. But we do owe it to them to try, in my opinion, m'lord. If they can't adjust...They must be watched." Which is apparently as far as he's willing to go theoretically to support Daemio.

Alexa smirks a bit. "When there is no reward for doing the right thing, what is there to stop a man or woman from doing the wrong thing? Especially if our enemy rewards them better than we do?" She waves a hand. "I am not saying that we should trust them implicitly... they should be watched carefully... but they should be given a chance to do the right thing. And rewarded for it."

Tanya looks at Daemio and says quietly, "It sounds like you were a lucky person, being able to not only stay with your family but them able to teach you about their lives when they were free. You are what? Ten? How did you manage to free yourself?"

Daemio glances up at Tanya, "Nearly 12. And yes I am very lucky. Our family was lucky. Our - were easier in some ways. But still every day of my life in Ellish was hard. Harder then the hardest days here. I can't imagine what it - be like to survive there alone." He nods to Alexa. "I'm not saying to execute them out of hand Dame Mother. I'm saying... we need to be aware of what we may - in Ellish."

"I think we can all agree on caution?" Bashar suggests, glancing around the room. "Though...I have to admit, I'm glad I /won't/ likely have to make any such decisions down the road."

Alexa says flatly, "We need to make sure that people here have less reason to help the enemy than remain loyal to the Republic. Cruelty does not serve that purpose."

Daemio nods and clears his throat. "I should get back to my lessons. Thank you again for the talk Centurion. I hope many more come to speak to you now." He frowns at Alexa. "I think you miss understand me Dame Mother. Perhaps it's my accent. I do not advice cruelty. But when we live in a city where a former slave women lectures like I'm a traitor for being glad to be free and /I/ get in trouble for saying her loyalties are suspect we have a problem. Good day Dame Mother." He turns and bows respectfully to Tanya. "Lady Captain."

Bashar looks more than a little surprised by Daemio's anecdote, but does not press. "Good day, m'lord; I hope so too.

Alexa inclines her head and says simply, "Perhaps your lordship should consider what he got in trouble for. For being glad to be free? Or for behavior inappropriate due his station in life." Alexa rises herself and bows to Bashar. "Thank you for speaking. It has given me much food for thought."

Tanya rises as well. "Yes. Thank you. I am sure it wasn't easy to have to repeat the horror you lived."

Daemio gives Alexa an odd look and just shakes his head, heading out.

Daemio has left.

Bashar dips his head to Alexa as well. "Thank you, Gen, ah, Dame Alexa." Not-General on Alexa still seems to throw him for a loop. "Thank you, ah, m'lady. It's not, but I hope it will help others to understand."

Akai realizes that the talk is coming to an end and that folks are heading out. She gives a smile toward the speaker, nodding her thanks and heads out along with the rest.

Akai has left.

Alexa grins and says, "There is a long road to understanding, even between clans, much less something as foreign as the needs of former slaves." She nods to Tanya as the young noblewoman speaks quietly to her.

Tanya nods her head to Alexa and then gives a small smile to Bashar. "Nothing that is easy seems to be held firm. But once Ellish is freed, our task justr becomes different. No less harder. But we will succeed there too."

"By the grace of the gods," Bashar agrees. "In any case, I should be getting back to my duties. But thank you for coming...and if you think of any more questions, I would be happy to help if I can."

Alexa inclines her head to Bashar and says, "Thank you, Centurion. Srenna watch over you."

Tanya says "And may Uf bring only pleasant dreams."