Anastasius listened, picking out the details of import from Azuriel's rambling speech.  He liked the man's company well enough, better than most he'd answered to along his life's path.  It was really no different calling the Romans lord than it had been to hunt their ships.  Death and torture and rough use came to the victims no matter who they were.  Indeed, sometimes it seemed like he was murdering the same blank-eyed sleeping souls over and over again.  Not even the burning men had offered him any insights, too busy screaming and wailing and wasting their lingering stay on the threshold.<br/><br/>He looked to his captives, the women he'd be training.  Amazons... lean and muscled and exotic.  The dark haired one seemed fearful, hiding behind her hair and making soft noises.  The other's lips were still stained red, and her eyes glowered in fury.<br/><br/>It made him smile as he moved over to stroke the dark-haired slavegirl's head lightly, not willing to risk a finger by touching the other just yet.<br/><br/><strong>"Just these two whores to start, or are there others packed away on the Bachoi?"</strong><br/><br/>