Samantha
Feeling the crowd burst forward around him, Marcus did his best to hold his crowd. With no interest in what was on stage, he took the opportunity of the orc and goliath slavers moving forward to move backward and out of the crowd of them. Now free of the stench that seemed to cover each Dasvazian around him, Marcus turned, ignoring the angered shouts of the crowd as he intended to make his leave. While the man was not disappointed, he was irritated that he'd have to continue his search elsewhere for a slave to call his own- one not so *Used*. Ezocar wasn't too terrible far away, but Marcus bit his tongue at the thought of staying overnight in Dasvaz just for being picky over the slave he wished to buy.

Marcus began making his way back towards the hill he had come over when a voice stopped him in his tracks. Turning to peer through the slits in his mask at who had yelled such a thing, the aasimar's eyes widened when he heard the word *'human'*. Marcus had no interest in rarities when it came to items, merchandise or even slaves, but he'd be a liar if he didn't admit he was at least a *Bit* Intrigued by the proclamation. Turning around fully to settle his eyes on the rotund orc and his prize, Marcus's arms were soon crossed over his broad chest. Honing in on the human in question, the aasimar took a long and hard look over her, and was almost immediately interested to know and see more of her.

_ _
Stepping back into the crowd, Marcus observed quietly, ignoring the murmurs and whispers around him. He was fully aware just how rare a human was, especially one that seemed as human as this one did. Likely one with elven blood, but a human nonetheless. The blood on what could barely be called clothing immediately caught Marcus's attention, but it was not uncommon at events such as these. Slaves were beaten as normalcy here, and by the fiery look in the human's eyes, it was clear she was a fighter. This was made clear by her angered and fearful shouting, and while Marcus didn't recognize the language, he did recognize the accent.

Blinking as the orc who had caught her slammed her into the wooden platform, Marcus was now able to eye her more closely. He stood out like an obsidian marble in a sea of emeralds, orcs and goliaths both around him now begging for a chance to seize this rare prize. Bets and offers were made and were growing in price by the second. Money was no issue for Marcus. His family's estate may have burned down, but gold doesn't burn so easy. He still had a plethora of wealth to spend, and he intended to do so here and now.

*Marcus had found what he wanted, and he'd have her one way or another.*

"1,000 gold pieces." Marcus raised a hand, the sound of his voice crashing against the rest around him. Not only did his appearance make him stand out, but his accent as well. The aasimar's accent was thick and his voice just as deep to match, leading many to turn and eye Marcus with strange and even angered looks. The mask upon his face made him unknown, which only caused those around him to become even more uneased. "1,000 gold pieces for the human." Marcus was very aware of the economy in Dasvaz- the only man who had anywhere near 1,000 gold pieces on him was the chieftain of the nation, and as far as Marcus was aware he was not here, leaving the aasimar satisfied and sure the human would be his.
Deborah
The sweltering sunlight *Burned* Her eyes, a ray of yellow-white gloss blinding her vision even as the barren girl forced her eyelids shut. A ringing stung against her eardrums, the violent screaming only growing louder at the sight of a young slab of fresh meat. Rotten mouths spewed wagers, all explaining their curiosity for something so innocent, so pure. *Yet so violated and broken*. Lucia, who had all but forgotten her name or anything of significance about herself– suffered from the mutilation on her wings. Slits upon her shoulder blades were ripped open forcefully by hacking blades edges, flesh and muscle trailing from her insides, leaving the blotted, blooded yellow tissue exposed. 

Lucia knew she was an aasimar, at least partly one. Her half human genetics cursed her with a mortal body too close to that of a normal human, but now, she felt as though she had become one fully... Without her wings that is. Tears stapled her sockets, blood still crusting around her lips and parts of her skin. The iron muzzle that forced her jaw shut was now chained to a collar around her throat, restricting any movement, and only causing her more pain. Lucia had lost so much blood from the clipping of her wings, that even without the heat of the Dasvaz desert, she grew dizzy and ill. 

Shocked and bewildered, the girl had little idea what was going on. All she could recall in her last moments were waking up tied to a tree, her perpetrators face tattooed into her mind. *Oh the things he did... How they killed her.* She could still feel the snapping of her bones, the pain-splitting tear of her flesh- it was hell. Sniffling away the snot that ran down her nose, the halfling raised her eyes towards the crowd once more, catching the attention of the voice that silenced *Everyone* Indefinitely. 
_ _

He was tall– Terrifying. A cloaked figure with a build much like a statue. The way he stood out from the others was striking to say the least, and the mask he wore set off alarm bells in poor Lucia's head. Even in her disoriented state, she knew that she was being sold. She knew that a bet like that was final, and could only mean one thing...
Vanessa
As the rally grew far more chaotic than anyone would have liked, Grimfang was busy playing the bidders. Scheming his way through bribes to earn far more than one was worth in his eyes. Stakes grew higher the more that customers were drawn in, and soon, every eye in the village was watching. Rok toyed with Lucia, if only for his own sick interest. He pulled the girl's hair back from her face to show her face fully, however, the grip of her silver tresses in his meaty grip only worsened as he lifted her up by the scalp, forcing her to cry. "*Yep, she's a pretty one if i do say so me self."* 

Rough-housing would surely ensue, buyers becoming agitated as he bets grew further out of their reach. All would abruptly stop as soon as a demanding tone showered over the rest. His words are simple, yet connote power and gravitas. Silence overthrew the crowd, heads all turning once more. Some who saw the masked figure buckled at the knees– creating space between oneself and the monstrous male. Grimfang jerked his attention towards the man, an intrigued yet somewhat disbelieved expression skewing on his face. 

The giant stomped his way across the stage, meeting Marcus at the edge of it as his sweaty lips protruded into a snarl. "*1,000 gold pieces?*" Fang mocked, his head turning to the side to get a better look at the shadowed figure. "And what makes me think *You* Can provide ***1,000*** Gold pieces?" 

A heavy huff of air snorted from the orcs nostrils before he stood up straight, looking back at Lucia as she tensed in waiting. Grimfang had little interest in the slave, nevertheless, the money had to be honest before he could let something this profitable go. Some of the Dasvan citizens croaked up in response, their daring words of *Fighting* For the girl. As more people grew flustered about the idea, it would only be a matter of time before the crowd would disperse into a violent outbreak... 
|| Song: The Day I Let Go by Stone Sour |
Samantha
As the crowd parted and quieted down a bit, aside from the estranged shout of anger, Marcus stepped forward. His boots thumped against the wooden stairs leading up the platform, and in one swift motion the aasimar held out a large sack of coins for the orc slaver to take from him. The moment his hand was relieved of the weight, Marcus turned his attention to the human- to whom he was drawing closer and closer. With a mask upon his face, it was impossible to determine just where the man was looking. Now closer to the woman, she'd be able to see a faint glow beneath the slits in the mask, a bright bloody orange. Perhaps she'd recognize it as the eyes of an aasimar, but it'd be hard to tell with a mask in the way.

Now only inches away from the slave, Marcus reached out for the chain dangling from the collar upon her neck. At first, he was gentle, his gloved hand slowly wrapped around the chain at a painstaking speed. Then suddenly, with one yank, the woman was tilted upwards toward him, higher onto her knees than before. Forced to look up at him, unable to pull away from his grip. Marcus all the while was looking over every inch of her, for imperfections, cuts and bruises. After a long moment, Marcus muttered out from beneath his mask as he leaned in closer for the woman to hear. "*You'll do."*

_ _
Letting the chain go slack for the moment, it remained in Marcus's hand but gave the poor slave a chance to relax back on her legs. Swiveling his head toward the orc, Marcus gestured to the coin. "My coin is good. Bite it, check it, do whatever you need to do, but do *Not* Waste my time. She is *Mine*." Marcus peered back to the woman before him, leaning down to get much closer than before. Reaching forward, Marcus grabbed the muzzle around her face and forced her to turn her head. Then, he reached for her hair. It was longer than any he had ever seen before in his life. Strange for the slaver not to cut it.

Marcus remained eerily quiet as he suspected his new toy, even as the crowd behind him grew agitated. All the while, that mask remained pointed at the slave, as if the eyes behind it were digging into her very skin...