<div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i300.photobucket.com/albums/nn24/SociallyToxicBeauty/4491fcb8-f42f-42b6-bbd6-b1f08a1002fa.jpg">[ img ]</a></div><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #FFBFFF"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Paislee</span></span></div><br/>A dark haired woman walked outside of a shop as she secured a coin purse tightly to her hip. Her skin was slightly tan, with the exception of a large scar that wrapped around the entirety of where her shoulder and arm connected--as if the arm had been torn off and reattached. Jutting out from that scar was another that had an almost lightening bolt pattern that made its way to her collar bone.<br/><br/>The woman's head was tilted down as if she were a lost foreigner, but people passed by her with a sense of familiarity--some giving a nod of acknowledgement, while others outright gave a wave. She didn't respond to most of the greetings, preferring to keep to herself, and the people in the city understood.<br/><br/>She made her way towards her home, her sharp eyes always surveying her surroundings. She had grown...paranoid over the years.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #FFFF00">"...his pain tolerance! Imagine the potential!" </span></span>The woman's head jerked up at the voice, recognizing a slave auction when she heard one. Her hands clenched into fists, quickly redirecting towards the crowd that was beginning to thicken.<br/><br/>What the woman came upon made her angrier than she had expected, her dark eyes falling on a chained and clearly abused humanoid. Blood, sand, and bruises covered him--and he looked very agitated. The auctioneer jabbed the blue creature with a cattle-prod of some sort, though it was clear to the woman that the creature was was fighting against the pain. Before she could stop herself, she spoke out,<span style="color: #FFBFFF">"But what if we want to purchase him? He looks dangerous, like he could do some serious damage after we purchase him. How convenient for you after you sell him, it wouldn't be your problem."</span><br/><br/>The words were meant to deter the crowd from participating in the auction, but the woman should have known better. Auctioneers always had something up their sleeves. She inwardly cringed as the man smiled and reached for a contraption clearly meant to work as a correction collar. He finally replied,<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #FFFF00">"A very good question! With every purchase, we attach a control collar to their neck. All you need to do is press the button on the remote we give you, and it'll present such a shock, that not even this giant would be able to take it... I call it, the pacifier."</span></span><br/><br/>The crowd seemed happy to hear that and the woman felt despair as people began to bid. She began to feel a spread of worry and panic go through her as she realized those in the crowd who were bidding on the poor humanoid were known for slave fighting. She shoved her way to the front, raising her hand,<span style="color: #FFBFFF">"A thousand gold! A thousand!"</span>The crowd gasped--no one could afford that-- and the auctioneer gave a slimy grin.<span style="color: #FFFF00"><span style="font-style: italic">"Well, well...Paislee...I never expected your here. Sold!" </span></span><br/><br/>Paislee's heart pounded in her chest and a few of the bidders grumbled at their loss, one in particular shoving past her. The auctioneer quickly slammed the correction collar on the creature's neck, moving away as fast as he could. The crowd began to disperse rather quickly, her name being whispered among the people.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #FFFF00">"He's all yours..." </span></span>the auctioneer said ominously as he handed her the keys to the humanoid's chain.<span style="color: #FFBFFF">"What's his name?" </span>she asked, her eyes never leaving the sea elf.<span style="font-style: italic"> <span style="color: #FFFF00">"Who cares?"</span> </span>Paislee's head snapped towards the auctioneer,<span style="color: #FFBFFF">"I do,"</span>she snarled out. The auctioneer rolled his eyes, holding out his hand for the gold that was promised. Paislee gave a sigh as she reached for her purse, handing him all she had and then a paper of some sort--it was her entire life's savings.<span style="color: #FFFF00"><span style="font-style: italic">"It's Orca,"</span></span>the man finally answer, grinning happily at his new fortune. He hadn't expected to get such good money for such a nasty slave.<br/><br/>Soon, Paislee and Orca were alone. She wasn't sure what to do. Orca seemed far more agitated than previously now that he had the collar on his neck. She approached slowly, trying to make herself as non-threatening as possible--which, in the back of her mind, she thought it was a total joke. She was a mere 5'6" while Orca was nearly seven feet tall, it seemed. While he did look malnourished, Paislee had a healthy amount of fear. He could easily kill her--he probably did want to kill her. She gulped, being sure to stay out of his reach.<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBFFF">"...Hello, Orca...are...are you alright?"</span>she asked, unsure of what to say. The poor guy seemed to have been through hell, his body littered with scars. She could see his ribs and half of his ear seemed to be missing. He had probably been to the ring more times than she could imagine, and it sent a pang of sadness through Paislee.