George
_THE AUCTION_

Though it was not a large venue for dancing, the gathering hall had filled rather quickly with guests and servants alike, a quartet of musicians playing a soothing waltz. The music was a nice touch, granted the rich rouge curtains and the gold decorations lining the tables, but it was there mostly to set Marcelis at ease.

She stood next to Uriel, the two arm in arm as they received any of the guests who decided to make their presence known to the hosts. On nights like these, when her mind whirred with possibilities and outcomes, she needed something, _anything_ to tether her to the present. The music served as that anchor.

She blinked and smiled as Oberon ruffled his feathers on her left shoulder, smiling warmly at the bird as he curiously scanned the multitude of guests. The lady had him as an anchor, now, too.

As lord and lady waved their "See you's" To a couple notorious for their market of netting gear, Uriel whispered to Marcelis, his lips brushing her hair to give the appearance of being affectionate.

"The slaves will be displayed soon. What is the highest bid for the first one, again?" He whispered.

Marcelis smiled and forced a blush on her cheeks, giving a coy laugh as if he'd murmured something not to be shared in her ear.

"No lower than 900 pounds should be just fine. The first slave is a scrawny thing," She responded, parting their exchange as another pair came to greet them.

The lord and lady stood near the front of the room, where an elevated platform, something of a stage, stood empty, waiting to display the slaves who were being held in one of the inner rooms of the manor.
Anne
David Brass had traveled from The Horn Hills with his crew, After they'd raided some small islands and towns in the north, David had decided to bring his crew down south, The reason for this had been that David heard about a grand slave auction in Terresol and wanted to gain some free labour in the raise of House Brass. 
Damien Brass would've been "Convinced" By David to attend also the auction also. Once they'd arrived at Terresol David's crew members had been forced to stay at the docks by the guardsmen, because quoting one of the guards "They didn't like the look of them" David Brass had been allowed to take his older brother Damien and his Champion Thorod Lockbeard into the city.
Part 1

After they had entered the auction area they stood back and watched the festivities unfold, Damien looked around at all the lords and lady's then turned to David , Damien: "Well Brother you better have a lot of coin or hope that these lady's and lords are more well dressed then they are wealthy" , David had firmly slapped Damien on the back of his head, David: "You better watch that tongue of yours Brother or you'll be joining the slaves", Damien lowered his head as they walked forward to get a better view, David: "Anyhow we don't need them all only good hard working Slaves those willing die by the sea for House Brass". David paused for a moment then looked up at Thorod "What do you think Thorod you haven't spoken since our last... Trip", Thorod looks down at David, Thorod : There's not been much to say David I don't waste my breath on talk that leads to nothing" Throad looks around slowly and cracked his neck. Throad : "I get the first women that's the deal" Throad grunted then looked down at David.
David : "Yes yes I understand all that Throad" David rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Women mostly prefer a men they don't have get on a ladder to make eye contact with Thorod, so think I'm a better prize myself just saying" David repeatedly elbowed Thorod shoulder, Thorod chuckled lightly at his lord as they all had watched the auction start. 
Part 2
David
An expensive and exquisite carriage makes its way up the drive to the manor, pulled along by two horses and an old, grizzled driver in a set of courtiers finery that doesn't match the disheveled and unkempt looks of his beard and hair- clearly a cheeky way to save a pretty coin by hiring the first able bodied man Silvester could find. The sounds of the many guests fills the air beyond the sound of horse hooves clapping and the wheels turning, letting Silvester know he's close. 

"Don't get too excited, old man." Says Sir Cockers, watching the old alchemist with his cold, expressionless stare. "They've gotta let you through the front door first."

"You keep your mouth shut, chicken." Silvester berates, staring out of the window at the fancy estate. "I don't want you to scare any of the other guests. You know I only brought you to keep you from getting in my acid bath again." He pulls the curtain back across the window as he rights himself in his seat, prepared to step out. "We are here on business, Sir Cockers. So stay sharp, alright? No going and getting yourself killed. Again. Alright?"

The chicken looks up at his berater, ever the emotionless chicken, he answers with a simple "Fine" And stays quiet as the carriage pulls its way up to the estate. "Come this way-" Says a males voice, escorting the carriage around to the side where it shall remain parked until the end of the night.

As the horses pull in and the wheels stop turning, Silvester hops out of the carriage with Sir Cockers under arm, where he shall remain. The two approach the front of the estate after tossing the driver part of his agreed pay, a few coins now, the rest later, where they're stopped by a large, somewhat confused man with a scroll that gives both the alchemist and the chicken an equally curious and confused look as he examines the man with a messy beard and haphazardly slicked back hair and the chicken that's wearing fine clothing. 

"Silvester Felrantrez and Sir Cockers." The old alchemist speaks before the man at the door has the chance to question the duo, shaking his head in confusion at the fact that the two actually sound confident enough to be on the list, despite looking like the most out of place thing at a this "Royal party".

"Uhh.. Oh-okay." He answers awkwardly, deciding against questioning it and pulling open the scroll. "Oh! You're actually- ahem. Welcome, Lord Silvester and company." The man continues with a somewhat awkward smile as he steps aside to let the other two in. 

"Many thanks, good sir." Silvester cheeks as he pats the mans shoulder, stepping inside. 

The hall was as grand as he had hoped- many fine men and women, Lord's and Ladies dressed in fine clothes, "Hosts" Walking about with food and beverage for all to taste and an empty stage assuredly for the event to come. "You better hope you brought enough coin, Sil" The chicken says only to be instantly muted by the alchemists hand as he gets odd looks from the guests he walks past. 

"You can't silence me, Geezer" Sir Cockers says with a maniacal laugh after biting Silvesters hand, not only releasing the chicken's mouth but releasing the chicken too, accidentally letting it run free. 

"Great" Silvester sighs heavily under his breath as he watches the chicken disappear into the crowd. That's definitely going to come back and bits him.
Karen
Emissary Sion Prosser, Basil Island, Terresol.

For once, the Emissary found himself in a place with agreeable weather. It wasn't the scorching deserts with its fucking sand, or the cold North that required him to wear four layers, _at least._ It was the islands off the coast of Terresol, and while their weather was slightly more temperate than the Isles, the lack of humidity was refreshing. The shores of Basil Island were particularly beautiful this time of year, the winter breeze hung lightly on the air making sailing all but effortless. 

He hated it. He ha complained too much, he was sure of it. First a climate that didn't make him want to tear the already considerably sparse amount of hair on his head, then a shallow, watery grave in the middle of the night. Gods, he had nearly thrown up his lunch on the way over. He hadn't even been given a directive on what he was doing. They were going to kill him. He was going to be directed to a Gods forsaken chop shop, and some younger, finer Emissary with a full head of hair was going to bludgeon him to death and bury his body in liquid stone and throw it in the ocean. 

"Pa?" His son, Kiran, pulled on his trench coat. "When are we all going on vacation?" He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by his wife. She took him by the waist and squeezed him lightly. "Honestly Sion, it's so nice that we're finally able to have Hogcock as a family. And for Kiran's sixth birthday, too. You're always away at work, and to have us all here together in one place is wonderful. This is probably one of your better ideas. We have only you to thank. Right Kiran?"

"Papa, papa, I'm gonna be six years old!"

Sion laid his head in his hands. They were going to kill all of them.
George
As the remainder of the guests trickled their way inside, a line of slaves, bound together by manacles at the ankles, made their way onto the stage at the front of the room. They were led by slave trader, who in essence appeared rather foreign compared to the other lords and ladies present. His skin was very tan, weathered by an evident amount of time in the sun and at sea. He halted the first line of slaves, a pair of guards keeping the rest waiting in line, on the floor next to the stage, though none of them seemed eager to step onstage anyways.

They all wore similar clothing, most of them in dingy tunics that used to be white. Both men and women stood before their buyers, none of them looking especially emaciated or malnourished. The men had defined muscles, from training and general work that would make them more valuable. And the women kept their gazes downcast, modest and quite honestly scared as they felt the eyes of eager men begin to focus on them.

Marcelis watched the gloomy procession, recalling the faces and dispositions her searching had provided her that morning. The prices and bids each would sell for, the lords and ladies in the gathering crowd who would shout them out...

Marcelis cast an observant gaze across their guests, seeing as many settled into chairs and even sofas that had been placed near round tables within the hall, many preparing their bids and even fondling the coin in their pockets. She smiled to herself, seeing them whisper to one another in anticipation. With her help, surely Uriel would be successful in his auctioneering on this night. And surely, she'd reap her own benefits from the revenue he'd earn.

Following her husband's lead, Marcelis stepped up onto the raised platform, Uriel standing in between her and the slave trader. He cleared his throat, waiting patiently for those gathered to settle down. Among the crowd, Uriel's chief attendant rapped a fork against a glass, to hasten the process.

Uriel smiles, or grimaced, rather, and lifted his hand in greeting as he addressed his guests.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! For those of you not as familiar with me, my name is Lord Uriel Python, standing lord of Basil Island and proud representative of Her Majesty, the Queen of Terresol. I am honored to have the pleasure of welcoming you to my home, and to even have the opportunity to share night of celebration with you all. I know I do not speak for only myself when I say that having company on our humble island is always a treat," Uriel said, glancing at Marcelis who lifted her chin, responding to her cue.

"Indeed it is. My name is Lady Marcelis Python. I hope the seas treated you all kindly, and our attendants have already prepared several rooms for those who require lodging for the night. If you require anything at all, do not hesitate to ask. I am more than happy to assist in any way that I can, and the wine will not be running out at anytime soon!" The lady said, looking back up toward Uriel.

The lord had a proud look on his face as he listened to the applause given at Marcelis's reassurance. He nodded toward their guests and raised both of his hands, speaking into the applause.

"And so, without further delay, let us begin!" He said.

Marcelis blinked as Oberon stirred on her shoulder, his talons slightly digging into her. She furrowed her eyebrows, glancing over at the bird who seemed to be intently focused on something. What could it have been?

She followed the bird's gaze to see something roaming about the floor. A ... Chicken?

"What in the heav—" She couldn't even finish her whisper before Oberon launched himself from her shoulder, flying toward the chicken with only curiosity prompting his flight. He merely swooped over the chicken at this point, before flapping his wings and alighting himself to perch on a curtain rod, watching the chicken intently with narrowed eyes.

Uriel faltered slightly, but soon began calling out bids for the first slave, a lanky looking boy who stepped forward at the harsh prompting of the slave trader. The slave trader described him as a good field worker, and minority fluent in reading and writing in common tongue.

"We will start at 400! Who begs higher?" Uriel started.

"450!"

"450, do I hear 475?"

"500!"

"500, and what about 550!"

"650!"

Uriel smiled as there was a murmur in the crowd, seeing the price rise higher and higher, just as Marcelis had predicted.