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 The market place

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PostSubject: The market place    Sun Jun 02, 2013 4:12 am

"My lady, watch out!"

Annabelle slowly turned her head while slowing her steps, confusion rising on her beautiful face as she looked at one of her handmaids Rosetta while trying to pull herself from admiring all the handwork of each stall; and smelling the tempting aroma of thousands of different spices and foods. Upon seeing the panicked look of the raven haired woman, Annabelle came to a complete stop before looking down at the ground. Oh my- Six more steps and she would have had a pile of maneuver underneath her delicate slippers, along with having the hem of her dress smelling like a cow's ass for the rest of the day. A small movement at the corner of her mouth gave away the small smile which was trying to burst free. The look on Rosetta's face had been absolutely priceless, as if Annabelle was about to step off a steep cliff and fall to her death instead of only her shoes and perhaps gown getting a bit ruined. -Only-... The blonde sighed and rolled her eyes discretely while finding her way around the brown pile on the ground. After being trained to be a lady, by a lady, she knew better than to make little of ruining gowns and slippers. It was considered something absolutely tragic, and every lady was given a certain birthright to raise Hell if anything happened to her wardrobe. Annabelle's handmaids at least seemed to think that was the case right now, while they watched her closely.. just in case she might have a late panic attack followed by a drama scene because she had -almost- ruined the golden fabric that wrapped itself around her petite but feminine curves so snugly. The only female of the four who were escorting the lady seemed to be unaffected.

Linny was the handmaiden's name, and she was just a few years older than Annabelle's twenty two. The emerald eyes watched Annabelle with the same amusement that was growing steadily within Annabelle's own chest. Linny and Annabelle had been raised together for the most part, and even if Linny had been 'nothing but' her handmaiden for their entire lives; then the two were friends. Very good friends. Annabelle didn't have a problem with befriending people from any social statuses, a trait that set her quiet apart from most Lannisters. But little was said about it, because as much as people might scoff and say she might want to protect her pride and name a bit more; then there was no denying that Annabelle held the respect of most if not all people she knew. Running the house of her deceased husband for two years, and her being this young, had made her reputation grow daily. And especially because she was very loved by those she ruled over. Her hand was firm, yet gentle, and the young lady was known to be very fair and yet cunning in her affairs. It wasn't often that merchants were bewitched out of their minds, or simply confused into agreeing with trades that weren't even that much to their benefit; by a young woman who had just barely gotten out of her teens from the looks of it.

There were six guards accompanying the women as they were exploring the busy marketplace. Annabelle would have preferred to be alone, or just with Linny, but she knew that there was a constant danger to holding the name of a Lannister. If she intended to keep ruling and making the lands richer, she'd have to be alive. It was a basic thing to hold in mind, common sense. But she still always felt a little ... defenseless. Ah how could she explain it? Having guards that were changed daily, none that she truly knew or could recognize by a name through the armor, unless it was because of obvious size differences, made Annabelle feel a little fidgety. She needed a personal guard. Someone who would solely focus on her and her safety, and the little lady knew she could well afford one like that.... but it was difficult to choose. She needed someone who wouldn't think before stepping into a dangerous situation for her, and yet not be stupid or completely fearless. A man with honor, some guidelines in life. Bah, I might just as well be happy with the guards that are already at my household. They have done a fine job this far, how come I am acting up about it suddenly?

Absentmindedly, the golden haired lady nodded and smiled while barely even seeing the beautiful carpet that was held up to capture her attention. "Oh this is perfect, exactly what we need!" The youngest of the handmaidens, Alexia a short brunette, captured the carpet in her hands and stared at it with stars in her dark blue eyes. With a small nod, Annabelle gave the hint that it was alright to buy the carpet; even if it seemed a bit too flashy for her taste. She was more of a simple colored, simple fabric with a simple pattern kind of a woman.

Shouting and cheering drew Annabelle's eyes towards a stall that wasn't too far away, and immediately a small disapproving pursing of her lips followed the sight. A slave bidding was going on. She did not approve, but there was little she could do in order to forbid such things to happen. She would have to close her eyes to the miserable faces of the slaves, close her ears to the pained cries of families being torn apart. It hurt, it was frustrating.. and she wanted to simply walk over there and buy all of the people. But what good would it really do? There would be more slaves the next day, and more the day after that. It went on and on like that. It had occurred to her before that she might get a slave from the slave market to become her personal guard.. but none of the people she had seen had had enough pride and respect for themselves. She could see it right away when they had been broken mentally, and she wanted none of that.

If she hadn't been so intent on watching what was going on with the slavers, she might have noticed the small cry of Alexia and the warning grunt of one of her guards; but before the golden lady could even blink or turn around and see why there was a commotion suddenly, she felt her head being tugged painfully backwards as someone had gotten a good hold of her thick golden locks and was using that grip to pull her closer until she stumbled into the embrace of her attacker. An alarmed expression crossed her face as she felt a cold blade against her bare throat, and Annabelle's sky blue eyes were widely open as she searched frantically for her guards. Clustered together with her handmaidens, there they stood. Being completely useless! And in front of her and whoever dared lay hands on her, there stood two other just as filthy men which were wielding crude daggers. What the heck was she paying her guards for anyway? Was she going to bleed out like a stuck pig right there in a filthy market place? The Lannister pride and temper made the blood in her veins boil, and her eyes glazed over to almost an indigo color while her nostrils flared from the anger that was threatening to burst through.

A very offending arm, a muscular and smelly arm of a male, snaked it's way around her small waist and the female had to bite back a scream of rage as she felt herself being pressed against the pig that had captured her. "Such a beautiful, beautiful little thing like you shouldn't be wandering about without proper protection." Her back was so straight, it seemed like her spine was made out of steel while she tried her best to keep from touching the male anymore than she absolutely had to. Her entire body was stiff, her usually tempting mouth with it's rosy colored lips was but a thin white line as she bit her lips together. The usually gentle, almond shaped sapphire eyes were narrowed as gradually a flush of anger was coloring her cheeks. Nobody who looked upon the situation would be able to say that she was a frightened little maid in the need of a knight in shining armor, more-so people were wondering if she would start spitting out venom or simply kill the man with her sheer power of will and temper alone.

"What is it that you want? Speak up man."

It seemed to throw the attacker a bit off guard when he didn't hear a high pitched alarm in her voice, but rather felt like her words and the tone of her voice was like a dagger being held against his own throat. "What I want, rich little Lannister bitch is some money.. and perhaps a little taste of someone sooo finely clad and clean. You don't seem to know how we poor ones and starving ones feel at all, do you? You simply live in your golden little castle, eating your fine food with your silverware."

By now, Annabelle's left eyebrow was twitching madly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Linny clasp her hands together.. probably praying that her lady wouldn't allow the temper to roam freely and endanger herself any further. "Listen here, I am not going to pay you for acting like a wild thing. Perhaps I can you a bath if you'd like so, or food if you are starving as you say you are. But just know that if you touch one hair on my head, if you so much as scrape me with that dagger; I shall have you killed right here on this spot." A hoarse laughter tickled her ear, making every single hair on her body stand on edge as she took in a deeeeep breath, willing herself to stay still and try to reason with that scum. But it didn't seem like her words of mockery had touched him much, as suddenly his hand that had been laying against the flat of her stomach started to travel upwards while she felt a sticky touch right under her ear. He. Licked. Her??

Nobody, and least of all the attacker, had expected what happened next. Well alright, perhaps Linny had been expecting it because if one would be listening carefully they could hear her mutter soft curse words under her breath. But the man's tongue had barely touched Annabelle's soft and clean skin for more than mere two seconds, when a furious scream erupted from her. A scream that in no way was fitting for a little lady like herself. Her elbow came into contact with the man's stomach, making him double slightly over and releasing the grip just a tad bit on the female. And that was all she needed in order to swiftly turn around, and using the palm of her hand breaking his nose with a single upwards thrust. She would have probably bitten his throat right there and then, if she hadn't found a painful grip on her right wrist most probably a partner of the attacker at work there; so painful it made her utter out a soft groaning sound while she was whirled around before feeling the stinging pain of a palm against her cheek. Her handmaidens cried out in objecting to seeing their lady being treated that way, but what could they do? The guards didn't even dare to step closer, as they feared she might get killed in the process.
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PostSubject: Re: The market place    Thu Aug 22, 2013 7:10 am

"I always hear the Andahli say things  such as  "Pride will bring about a fall". The Dothraki have no such concept. To the Dothraki our pride is our strength and yet as I stood in a line of shackles I felt no sense of pride "

As a previous bloodrider to long dead Khal, 'Zafra:' as he was currently being rZafra:rred to should have as well been long dead, unless of course he was still on his quest to seek vengeance for the 'blood of his blood' a phrase he might use to rZafra:r to his previous Khal. Yet, he was not a man who did his duty, nor was he a 'man' at all in the eyes of the Dothraki he had forsaken his Khal and the Khalasar, by their laws he should be dead. And in this very moment he sincerely wished that he was. As a man of immense pride, he was ashamed not only by the shackles that he bore on each of his strong limbs, but he could feel the wound in his being at the idea that he had been captured and brought to this place. He had always been a strong man and yet he was not strong enough to escape this fate?

Those within the crowded spectacle of the slave trade would find that "Zafra" was far be it from matching the appearance of one of the typical slaves. Where many were scrawny in poorly fed, the type of people who were usually sold into the trade as a method of paying a required debt, 'Zafra' was quite the opposite. Much like any male of Dothraki heritage, the intended slave's build far surpassed that of any of the Andahli men of similar age. Standing at roughly five inches past the six foot mark, 'Zafra' was tall even amongst the standards of Dothraki. As if to match his height, his chest barreled outward and every muscle of his large and wide form was well pronounced and toned. Standing next to the slaves and even Andahli men this male of Dothraki heritage  would appear far large than he actually was, entirely  out of place in this environment.

'Zafra' was in fact such an imposing figure that those men who ran the slave trade found it wise to shackle the .large man several times. Where most of the slaves were bound in iron chains with their hands clamped tightly together and another restraint around their ankles so they could walk but not run, the Dothraki's chains were of a different design. Around his neck he wore a tight chain which traveled down behind his back and linked with two chains which traveled to each of his wrists of which there were two securely fastened iron cuffs, which then connected with two more chains that traveled downward linking to the cuffs that he bore on each ankle. His binding was further enhanced by the fact that the chains spread out and connected in a long line to each and every slave in the trade line, as it was 'Zafra's' chains were much like the center piece in a long line of chains. If he were to try and run, he would have to take the entire slave trade with him.

The Dothraki male knew there was little chance of escape, even if he were to use his strength to his advantage, his bindings were too secure and he could not afford to drag every one of the fifteen slaves up for bid along with him. Although Patience is not a defining trait of the Dothraki warriors, this man was  always a patient man and now in this moment he could certainly afford to be as such. His golden eyes, which differed from the standard Dothraki brown, surveyed the circumstances of his environment. The skilled victor of many battles, 'Zafra' was considered to be a skilled tactician and it was with these eyes that he surveyed the market now. He was the third next in line to be up for bidding, which did not really give him long to formulate much of a plan.

Only a short time later, as he stood up on the pedestal, being examined and weighed over, the Dothraki outcast imagined this must have been what a horse felt like as it was examined by a hoard of Dothraki. The large man could see the fear that he inspired in those who participated in the auction. He could only imagine his size and obvious strength instilled the same distrust that a powerful and untamed horse might give, for how would one beat such a creature into a submissive state. Especially when he was at least twice as large as anyone buying from the auction.  The hesitant buyers gave the Dothraki time to think, as he silently thanked the Great Stallion that the Dothraki were associated with such fear in the land of the Andalhi. Although his common tongue was meager at best, the outcast and intended slave could tell that his cost was being reduced to try and bring about a change in the unwilling crowd.

Biding his time, the exiled Dothraki flexed his muscles, testing the awareness the two men who guarded him as he stood free from most of his shackles during his moments of being displayed.He was certain that these two men, both of whom were armed with cheap weapons and could only be half his size, would be an easy form of prey. Yet he knew still that there served little advantage in fleeing from these guards into a market full of guards. As frustrating as his situation might be, to act rashly would only serve to put the male into an even worse situation.

A sudden commotion within the market crowd broke the bound male from his strategic rationale. Not too far from where he stood on display, a number of guards stood on edge, surrounding what seemed to be some form of assault occurring.  His view was mostly blocked by the armored guards, all who bore the vaguely familiar sigil of a house he could not name, but the Dothraki male recognized opportunity when it appeared. As the situation grew louder he felt the old on his shackles diminish as the situation below  began to draw everyone's attention but still he waited to push his luck. It was not until a blood curdling scream erupted from the center of the conflict that the male chose to act.

Using the loud screech as his cue, his body dropped into a low crouch in one sudden movement, his strong and muscled legs coiling up like a spring before he would immediately leap forward into the air. Although his wrists were still shackled, the chains were only held by the two distracted guards who had been standing on either side of the Dothraki outcast, their loose hold did not stop the male from completing his powerful leap. As a matter of fact, the sudden spring of movement caused the guards to stumble far less gracefully into the air with their 'captive'. Lacking the grace of the Dothraki male, the two guards fell off the raised stage as the Dothraki landed nearly ten feet away from where he had been previously standing, using his now freed chains as methods of clearing the path ahead. Dropping down into a low stance again, he began a powerful run, using the thick muscles of his legs to push him forward, his arms swinging forward in a harsh whip like movement which brought the heavy iron chains to bare, knocking a number of people from his path. In his attempt at escape, the Dothraki did not care about those he might have killed or injured for that brief second there was only one thing on his mind.

However, his attempt was diverted in only a few short steps as he saw now the true source of the conflict which he had used as a diversion. With a previous swipe of the chains connected to his wrists, he had knocked a number of the lion-sigiled guards away and he could now see what had occurred within the market place and had allowed him to make his attempt at escaping. Trapped between two men, was a blonde of obvious wealth and the clear owner of these pathetic excuses for guards.  It appeared that the woman with her silver-like blond hair had attempted to put of a fight, such was made apparent by the bloody nose of one assailant, however her attempt at combat had been cut short by the fact that she was now restrained by another man.

The Dothraki male might be an outcast in the land of his own people and an reject in the land of the Andhali, but despite his desire to escape, he could not ignore the overwhelming sense of honor he held inside and with a growl of frustration, he pushed the strength in his legs harder and rushed towards the woman as he began to regret the fact that he was unable to leave her to whatever event might occur.  At he stood within five feet of the guards, still out of sight to the assailants, the Dothraki male once again entered the low crouch and used the force of his powerful legs to once again spring above the crowd. His leap took him well above the head of the guards and it was from this vantage point that his warrior's instinct kicked in.

Using the chain much as he had previously, the Hunter first focused on the man who held the woman's wrist at bay. In mid leap, he swung his arm backward and utilized the chain much as one might wield a whip, swinging it forward with all his might. Swung with such force, the seven foot chain of iron collided with the head of the second assailant, the force of the blow causing his entire head to compact inward. Te body hitting the ground just as the Dothraki warlord landed, immediately altering his bodily position, using his momentum into a foward tackle as he used his weight and force to knock the woman off her feet and rolling her slightly with his blow, protecting her from retaliation by the first assailant.

Despite his size, the outcast bloodrider, moved with an exceptional amount of grace, his body immediately standing upright over top of the blonde woman, his legs firmly planted on either side of her. With one rapid yet careful movement,  the Dothraki male snapped his hand to the throat of the shorter male, lifting the assailant of the ground as if his weight meant nothing.  He was sure to maintain even movements as to be sure not to injure the woman with the chains that were still dangling from his cuffs.

"Govak" He spat the  word of his native tongue from his mouth with such intensity that his saliva would most likely spray on those nearby as he brought his other hand up around the man's throat and began a slow but strong squeeze. To many in the market the sight might have been something gruesome, the smaller man's face began to change color from lack of air  and his body began to shake and squirm, a sight that did nothing to delay the warrior from his task. After letting the assailant suffer for a few more short moments, the male tightened his grip until the loud echoing of a crack could be heard as he crushed the neck of the man in his hold. Without care he  dropped the corpse of the would-be-assailant to his feet and waited. He could only assume his fate would be far worse now that it had been previously.

Yet  still determined as he was to escape the slave trade, the mammoth of a man slid the assailant's small dagger against the inside of  the iron cuff that was still fastened securely around his wrist ignoring the twinge of pain as the dull dagger dug into his flash. He was hoping the puny feeling weapon would assist him in the events that might unfold. For the first time in many moons he spoke in the tongue of the Andalhi, what was more often referred to as the common tongue. His words were harsh and heavily accented, but still fairly understandable "Useless  Guards". After speaking he stepped away from her before turning around and scooping up the woman whom he had knocked in the dirt, gripping her shoulders  roughly in his large and strong hands before he harshly picked her up and stood her on her feet, much like a child might do to a doll.

If the Dothraki male intended to make his escape now, he would find his choice to be surely difficult. Not only had he caused a spectacle within the market, but he also was aware that he was surrounded by the woman's 'Useless Guards' each with their weapon drawn upon him.  He felt his pride as a hunter roar in his chest, knowing that he had taken on greater odds than this before, but on each of those occasions he was not scarcely clothed in the mere loin cloth he wore now and he was also armed with a formidable weapon. However, despite knowing the great odds against him the Dothraki let out a menacing and prideful growl as he spat at the feet of the group of guards, fairly certain he would rather die than go back into captivity. Instead of looking at the Guards, the Dothraki male instead turned his gaze to the woman whom he had just saved, looking down upon her visage and examining her with his golden eyes.
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PostSubject: Re: The market place    Fri Aug 23, 2013 6:26 pm

Her cheek was swelling rapidly, an angry red color spreading over it, as Annabelle wondered to herself what kind of a sticky situation she had found herself stuck in.  Nobody dared lift a muscle to help her, and for a moment she wondered if she should be furious at the lack of courage in her guards or if she should be grateful they were so careful with her life.  All she did know at this moment, was that they had failed her.  But what could she possibly do?  Fire them?  Yeah maybe, if she would live so long.  From the corner of her eyes, she noticed some commotion going on; but Annabelle could hardly allow herself to become distracted when being a captive to brutes that clearly had no hesitation about bringing violence upon a lady as herself.  Suddenly though, her entire attention was captured; as a giant of a man had leaped into the circle that had formed around her.  At that moment, the little lady forgot all about her manners and stared with her mouth open at the man who had literally jumped over the heads of the guards and now focused his brute strength on her assailants.  She saw how the man who had held her got killed with a chain to his head, and she could hear the horrified screams of her handmaidens as they thought for sure that now their beloved mistress would get killed as well.  Annabelle however felt numb, she didn't feel fear nor anything else; but stared almost stupidly at the man who fell to the ground before she found herself being knocked off her feet.

With a soft groan she landed on her stomach, before quickly rolling onto her back; ready to spring to her feet in order to defend herself against whatever would be coming her way.  However, she found herself staring up at the strong back of the graceful warrior whom seemed to be ... well.. it seemed like he was protecting her?  Stunned beyond belief, she only sat there on the ground in a very unladylike manner while wondering what on earth was going on.  


The strong word, uttered by an even stronger and harsher voice caused the female to jump slightly before she watched with wide eyes as he began to strangle one of the assailants.  Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Alexis fainting and the others were either painted white or green in their faces.  Her useless guards only stared, looking just as frightened as the handmaidens; making Annabelle want to punch each and every one of them.  She felt a slight nauseating feeling in the pit of her stomach from the gruesome display, and a slight twitch of her muscles followed the cracking sound of the assailants neck as her savior broke it like a twig.  She had to fight the urge to bring her own hand up to her throat as she felt quite defenseless against something as strong and brutish as that man.  Everyone was silent, staring wide eyed at the warrior whom was so fierce.  But then he again broke the silence with his thick accent.

"Useless  Guards".

Well there we agree on something.  As he turned suddenly towards her, Annabelle tried to scramble away but only managed to move an inch or so before a squawking sound erupted from her throat as his large and strong hands grabbed her shoulders and lifted her up to her feet like she was only a baby.  Her legs felt unsteady, and she lightly placed her hands on his forearms while gaining her grounds before quickly letting go as if she had been burned by the touch.  She stared up at him, her beautiful face slightly pale except for the bruised cheek; and her pale blue eyes as big as dinner plates.  The male growled out, sending small chills down her spine before he spat onto the ground in front of the now enraged guards.  Certainly that was an act that caused her handmaidens to make faces of disgust; but Annabelle didn't care much.  All she noticed was that he had turned his attention towards her again, looking her over with his yellow wolf-eyes.

The small woman gathered up whatever courage she had left, and stared unblinkingly back at him.  If he had imagined that she would faint, scream or flee his strong gaze; then he was in for a surprise.  Her own gaze ran boldly over his handsome face (yes she did find him quite handsome, even when he towered so over her with his brutishly muscled form, the beard, hair that was past his shoulders and the scars; only made him look more exciting and wild although the woman would never admit that she liked those factors.  After all, she was a lady), before she looked over his well-formed body.  However her gaze didn't dare linger on any body parts, as Annabelle knew she was a lady and wasn't allowed to admire anyone in such a way.  But she did.  What strength he had!  What courage!  Then she looked at the chains he had been using, and with a small frown that drew her dark yellow eyebrows together; she also noticed the cuffs around his wrists. A slave.   Had he managed to escape, but decided to help her out instead of fleeing?  Was he going to use her as a shield now in order to get away?  Her gaze quickly snapped up towards his face again, her eyes filled with suspicion as she tried to read what was going on in his mind.  

Annabelle was a woman of honor though.  With a single movement of her hand, she stopped the guards as they seemed to be done with gathering up enough courage to attack.  "I owe you my life, stranger."  Her voice was soft, yet strong as she looked him straight in the eyes again.  It seemed she had regained some of her pride and composure by now, her long hair flowing down her back and wrapping slightly around her hips and the back of her thighs.  A stray lock fell into her face, and she looked very young and vulnerable that second she took to look slightly down as she fixed the strand of hair and put it behind her ear.  

"My lady, do you want us to capture him?  He looks very dangerous."

"Yes, he does look very dangerous."

She however did not look scared when she said that as the guard had been, rather Annabelle was now deep in thought as she tapped a finger against her chin while looking at the proud male in front of her.  Her straight white teeth bit lightly on her soft and rosy lower lip, before her thinking got interrupted by a furious man who was approaching with a few guards.  "There is the Dothraki swine!  Capture him!"  Dothraki?  Interesting.  The slave trader turned his gaze upon Annabelle, and immediately started bowing and apologizing.  "I hope he hasn't offended the lady, I truly apologize and will make sure he receives a just punishment."

Annabelle looked irritatingly at him, before beckoning for Linny to come closer.  Hesitating still, the maid came towards her mistress with tears gleaming in her eyes from relief that her beloved friend was still okay.  Leaning closer to Linny, Annabelle whispered quickly to her before turning her attention towards the slave trader again.  "This is your slave?"  "Yes my lady, again my most sincere apologies."

"Good, I'll buy him then.  Un-cuff him now."  For a moment he seemed too startled to say anything, but as his lips parted, Annabelle only silenced him with a wave of her hand.  "I assume this is enough?"  Linny had retrieved a pouch of money from her belt and handed her mistress it, before Annabelle threw it casually towards the slave trader.  The money was about 6 times more than the slave trader had even dared to dream about getting for the warrior, and his small pig eyes got wide with greed as he squeezed the pouch.  "Thank you my lady, you wont regret this.  He is strong and will be able to do heavy work for many years before you see fit to get rid of him."  Perhaps he saw how her eyes narrowed, for at that the slave trader went silent and bowed a few more times before beckoning to the one guard to take away the cuffs and chains from the warrior and then they all retreated silently.

"But my lady, to buy him!?"  Her hand maidens looked with scared expressions towards the warrior before looking again at Annabelle.  Surely she had hit her head in all the commotion!  "There there girls.  So far this one man has done more good than all my guards."  The guards all looked like beaten dogs, and not one of them dared to object.

She looked at the Dothraki male, and wondered how much of the common tongue he understood before nodding towards him.  "You are free to go.  A Lannister always pays his debts.  You saved my life, and now I have given you yours back."  Her eyes seemed to grow slightly darker in color, as a small smile starting tugging at the corners of her mouth.  "However, I would like it very much if I could have such a fierce warrior as my personal guard."  Annabelle ignored the commotion that the statement caused, both her guards and maidens protesting loudly as she continued.  "My name is Annabelle Lannister and if you so choose, then you will live for me, and die for me.  But perhaps that wont be a problem for a man like you.  I'll make sure you will be paid handsomely and you can spend the money on whatever you want.  Be it booze, women, food or weapons.  So what do you say?  Do you wish to walk away from here and see what fate can offer you, or do you wish to stay by my side and see that I shall live for many more years to come while I shall fill your pockets with gold?"
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PostSubject: Re: The market place    Sat Aug 24, 2013 2:35 am

"I owe you my life, stranger."

The Dothraki male chose not let a word escape from his mouth, still entirely unsure what to make of this situation. Having been raised in the Dothraki culture as he was, the male  found himself overwhelmed with immense distrust and obvious prejudice for the people Andahli.He made no clearly obvious indication that he knew of  or even understood the words she said. It was however very clear that every muscle in his body remained tense, waiting for what he could only assume would occur when someone became brave enough to put him back into captivity. For more than twenty years the man had been a warrior and he would die fighting if such a thing must come to pass. With that thought he briefly found himself wondering if his death in Rhaesh Andahli (Land of the Andals) would still allow  his soul to traverse the Rhaeshi Ajjalani (Night Lands), but he forced himself of these brief superstitious thoughts, forcing himself to focus on the time at hand.  

Although he had no weapons, the strong warrior still wielded the chains that were bounded by means of forgery to the cuffs he bore on his wrists and he was determined to use them to ensure either his freedom or his death if he must, even if he would have greatly prefered to wield a Dothraki made Arakh in this environment, for it would befit the close combat he would be likely to encounter in this situation.

The male kept his eyes locked upon the woman who had spoken, unsure if he could trust her words, even as his attention drifted more towards the guards who had him surrounded.  His eyes followed her movement as she fixed her hair and still he waited. Although it had only been a short number of years since his exile, he was still rather ignorant of the Andhali culture and given his culture of raising, such a concept of a confused
him. In terms of his experience he could only liken it to an oath of sorts.  Although he understood much of the common tongue, he still found many circumstances of which it brought a great deal of confusion.

"My lady, do you want us to capture him?  He looks very dangerous."

If he had been considered to be on edge before, these words caused the Dothraki male to appear as if he would attack whoever was closest, even if it had been the woman whom he had just risked his own freedom to save. 'Jahakmen mahrazh disse kadat.' Just try braid-less man. He snarled under his breath to the guard who had dared speak those words. The insult was of course a reference to the braid significant to a warrior in the Dothraki culture, the braid which is only cut when a warrior is defeated.

"Yes, he does look very dangerous."

A brief look of confusion broke past the stoic and blank facade the Dothraki warrior wore on his face at these words. He began to wonder if his common tongue was worse than his pride might allow him to admit. If he understood her response than it was not one he had expected. He remained braced for attack and yet found himself confounded as the braidless guard made no move to advance. He kept his eyes locked on the woman's features as it was most obvious that she was in control of this situation and he noted how she did not seem to fear his arrival or appearance as so many others nearby, her handmaidens included, did quite obviously. As she stood there seemingly deep in thought, the Dothraki male found himself torn between taking her as a hostage of sorts whilst she stood so open and vulnerable.

The approaching of a third party to this exchange, distracted the strong male from his line of thought. Surrounded by his own bustle of guards the slaver,whom the Dothraki recognized very well began to approach the near vicinity. The very sight of the man and his troupe of guards caused a great sense of anger to rise within the proud Dothraki male. He felt as if a lion was clawing at his chest as a surprising sense of hunter-esque blood thirst rose in his throat. If he was not wary of the repercussions, he would have most likely ripped the man's throat out with his bare teeth if the chance were to arise.

"There is the Dothraki swine!  Capture him!" The man was obviously furious as he spoke again.
"I hope he hasn't offended the lady, I truly apologize and will make sure he receives a just punishment."

With those words he felt as if a roar of anger resounded within his chest. It took every ounce of self control for the proud warrior to not act on the offence he felt.

"This is your slave?" The woman spoke after whispering briefly to one of her handmaidens. The Dothraki male had to admit, he did feel a sense of pleasure when it was clear that this woman was annoyed in some way with the slaver.

"Yes my lady, again my most sincere apologies."

An involuntary snarl escaped the larger male  as the slaver spoke again. However both the slaver and the Dothraki male held similar reactions to the woman's next actions. "Good, I'll buy him then.  Un-cuff him now."  She spoke suddenly, causing both  of the two males to hold matching looks of surprise. Although the Dothraki have nearly no concept of money, over his time of being an outcast the Dothraki male has learned the false value of such things as gold. He knew enough of the Andahli society to know of the woman's worth whe she simply waved her hand and spoke once more.  "I assume this is enough?" One of the other women, whom the male could only assume to be a handmaiden handed the lady a pouch full of what could only be assumed to be gold. Without so much as a hesitant thought, she toss the sack to the slaver.  The Dothraki could see the obvious surpised look at the amount of gold, more than he could possibly get due to the size and imposing nature of the product he was trying to sell.  "Thank you my lady, you wont regret this.  He is strong and will be able to do heavy work for many years before you see fit to get rid of him."

A loud growl resonated from the mouth of the Warrior at the last statement.  The words of the slaver insulting his immense pride to such an extent that he was nearly ready to kill the guard who approached (in a rather timid and terrified manner) to remove the cuffs that the strong warrior bore on his wrists.

"But my lady, to buy him!?" The Dothraki male scarcely paid heed to the words from one of the lesser woman in the company. He instead was too focused on the guard who seemed entirely incable of removing the cuffs which he had put in place merely a few weeks ago. In a moment of revenge, as the guard struggled shakily with the cuffs the Dothraki male gave him a dark smirk, the sort of expression that made it clear of his morally lacking thoughts. Perhaps as a result of this expression, the guard quickened his actions before half running away from the party. However this was not before the guard had managed to trip over  the very chains he had removed, an action which caused the larger male to bellow in a dark and joyful laughter.

"There there girls.  So far this one man has done more good than all my guards." Letting his laughter subside, the proud warrior accepted the praise as he glanced around at the guards who had accompanied the woman. His look was such an expression that almost openly challenged any one or even all of the guards to object. He welcomed the challenge such an action would bring. Allowing silence to overtake him again, it was clear to the warrior that the woman intended to speak more and in a sign of respect he turned his
attention to her and only her. His eyes watching her features as a hunter might stalk its prey.

"You are free to go.  A Lannister always pays his debts.  You saved my life, and now I have given you yours back." He found himself struggling in the slightest to keep up with such a large amount of common tongue. However he finally found a clue to the identity of the woman whom he had just saved. Despite only being in the Andalhi society for a short time, even he knew of the Lannister name. Much like a Khal might lead a Khaleesar, whispers of the power of House Lanister had managed to reach even the ears of an outcast such as himself.  The male did not let this realization distract him from the interactions within this exchange. "However, I would like it very much if I could have such a fierce warrior as my personal guard."  The slightest smile that rose around her lips as she spoke did not escape even the culturally ignorant Dothraki. Nor did the obvious commotion such a 'request' caused within the rest of the Lannister woman's party. Even he, despite not being in this society for long, knew that possessing a Dothraki guard was something that was something new in it's entirety, for how could a savage Dothraki be subjugated to be such a level to function as a guard.  Yet on the the same token, to have such a gaurd would bring much notoriety to this Lannister woman's name, to have a guard of such power. It would be unwise for anyone to challenge her.    "My name is Annabelle Lannister and if you so choose, then you will live for me, and die for me.  But perhaps that wont be a problem for a man like you.  I'll make sure you will be paid handsomely and you can spend the money on whatever you want.  Be it booze, women, food or weapons.  So what do you say?  Do you wish to walk away from here and see what fate can offer you, or do you wish to stay by my side and see that I shall live for many more years to come while I shall fill your pockets with gold?"

After she finished speaking the Dothraki did not respond right away, he instead chose to maintain a heavy silence for a lengthy period.

'Vikees san astolat' The Bitch talks too much. He grumbled out in his native tongue once more taking comfort that his words would most likely be beyond their understanding. The fact of which brought the slightest smile to his face. With those words the Dothraki male took some time to organize his words, struggling with the common tongue in his mind before he finally opened his mouth to speak, letting his forced silence come to an end.

"The woman given freedom to Hrakkar." His words were once more spoken in  a thick accent, the structure of his words making his lack of skill with the common tongue quite obvious. "I Hrakkar" As he spoke he brought his fist to his chest enunciating that was his name A name that he felt worthy of reclaiming with his new found 'freedom'. "Me Lion. You Lion." He spoke again, pointing at the sigil on one of her guard's shield, referring to the Sigil of house Lannister and and it's relation to the meaning of his name.

He paused again, hoping he was getting his point across before he began speaking again."The man shall do what the woman wants now, but not for all time." He said, showcasing his broken wording quite astoundingly once more, meaning of course that he would service her cause for now, but not perhaps forever. "The woman not have trust. Not have honor." Hrakkar hoped she realized that he would not serve her unless she did more to prove herself worthy to serve. Although he did not feel as if the request she made was something he could refuse if he wished to keep his freedom he was too much of a Dothraki for the games that the Andhali liked to play. The Dothraki only follow the strong and this Lannister woman had yet to prove her strength.

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