Speech
Thoughts
4th Trial of Cylus Arc 718
It had taken some time for Woe to unravel the psychology of the Naerrik women of Augiery. It didn't take long for him to realize that his options weren't great.
He could either make himself useful, and gain a position fitting to his talents. It was a route that was fraught with risks and rewards. It would also ensure that his renewed freedom would become an unattainable dream.
Woe could've feigned incompetence with ease. That came with its own sest of pitfalls and potential rewards. On one hand, he could find himself traded to a slaver and sent out of the city. On the other, he could find himself to be meat for the meat-loving shadows who inhabited this city.
In the end, he plied a perilous middle-ground. He exploited his inside knowledge of the slave trade. He'd of course been a former slave, as well as one who'd herded and even traded in flesh. If anyone was up to the task of navigating this precarious plan with any success, it was Woe.
So when the time came for preparations of Odessa's Champion, Woe was ready to enact his plans.
He was a mediocre fighter. In the Sand Pits and lower fighting rings of the city of Augiery, he'd won some, and lost many. He wagered that his shrewd overseer wasn't apt to risk the value of Woe against the chance to profit. He'd not spoken direct to his overseers, but had talks with his fellow slaves within earshot of them. There, he'd sewn the seeds of doubt that he was up to the challenge of Odessa's Championship.
Other times, while his overseers busied themselves, he planted more seeds of doubt. Woe confided that he had more value in trade than in death or in his meat.
This, he was sure, would peak the curious greed of some shadow woman. One did materialize soon enough, who showed interest in purchasing Woe. He made more specific overtures to her greed, and how any owner who acquired him would for certain profit. That is, if they traded him while undercutting his price beneath his true worth.
This woman did end up buying him, and put up appearances of preparing him for the Championship in Cylus. Meanwhile, he learned that she did indeed intent to pursue his strategy of buffing his value.
This was the perilous red line that he tread. Between uselessness and value, between ugliness and beauty, on the cusp of young and old. He made himself useful, but not too much. He made himself appear attractive, but not beautiful. He accentuated his youthful energy, while squelching grunts and groans of exertion.
All the while, he was nothing more than troubling mediocre. Whenever his mistress seemed to expect more of him, he would disappoint her. Yet, he came through when it was important, with only a few notable failures.
He sought to disappoint her only in small ways, never reliable in any way. Yet he never dispelled the illusion of potential value.
Then the day came, a ship arrived in port, and his mistress took him down to it, along with a handful of other slaves. He expected that she would trade him to the slaver from a foreign land.
He could either make himself useful, and gain a position fitting to his talents. It was a route that was fraught with risks and rewards. It would also ensure that his renewed freedom would become an unattainable dream.
Woe could've feigned incompetence with ease. That came with its own sest of pitfalls and potential rewards. On one hand, he could find himself traded to a slaver and sent out of the city. On the other, he could find himself to be meat for the meat-loving shadows who inhabited this city.
In the end, he plied a perilous middle-ground. He exploited his inside knowledge of the slave trade. He'd of course been a former slave, as well as one who'd herded and even traded in flesh. If anyone was up to the task of navigating this precarious plan with any success, it was Woe.
So when the time came for preparations of Odessa's Champion, Woe was ready to enact his plans.
He was a mediocre fighter. In the Sand Pits and lower fighting rings of the city of Augiery, he'd won some, and lost many. He wagered that his shrewd overseer wasn't apt to risk the value of Woe against the chance to profit. He'd not spoken direct to his overseers, but had talks with his fellow slaves within earshot of them. There, he'd sewn the seeds of doubt that he was up to the challenge of Odessa's Championship.
Other times, while his overseers busied themselves, he planted more seeds of doubt. Woe confided that he had more value in trade than in death or in his meat.
This, he was sure, would peak the curious greed of some shadow woman. One did materialize soon enough, who showed interest in purchasing Woe. He made more specific overtures to her greed, and how any owner who acquired him would for certain profit. That is, if they traded him while undercutting his price beneath his true worth.
This woman did end up buying him, and put up appearances of preparing him for the Championship in Cylus. Meanwhile, he learned that she did indeed intent to pursue his strategy of buffing his value.
This was the perilous red line that he tread. Between uselessness and value, between ugliness and beauty, on the cusp of young and old. He made himself useful, but not too much. He made himself appear attractive, but not beautiful. He accentuated his youthful energy, while squelching grunts and groans of exertion.
All the while, he was nothing more than troubling mediocre. Whenever his mistress seemed to expect more of him, he would disappoint her. Yet, he came through when it was important, with only a few notable failures.
He sought to disappoint her only in small ways, never reliable in any way. Yet he never dispelled the illusion of potential value.
Then the day came, a ship arrived in port, and his mistress took him down to it, along with a handful of other slaves. He expected that she would trade him to the slaver from a foreign land.
