Backdated [Week 17, day 1] How much would you folks give?
Who: Everyone!
Status: OPEEENNN
Style: Whatever floats your boat
Where: Yomisato, focused on Iron District but things can happen outside of it (there is a thread for that). But feel free to create your very own threads as well, if you need. Anything connected to the slavery business fits in this log. Feel free to mark the time in the thread subjects if needed.
When: Week 17, day 1, before or around noon
Rating: R, I guess. Trigger warning for slavery. Borderline nudity, or something.
Summary: It's auction time~ Righteous people are free to be righteous.
There is a slight lack of people on the streets of Yomisato today. If you're curious as to why, you'll get a clue if you follow some of the people heading towards the southern parts of the village where the metal districts are located. Or perhaps you already know what is going on, putting together two and two from reading the news this morning.
As soon as you enter the Iron District, there's a sudden loss of space and you might have to squeeze your way through here and there. Some people may look at you suspiciously, cautiously, with narrowed eyes, but unlike what you may think it's not because you're an outsider. After all, the Yomites don't care about this; not as long as you leave them to their business. No, they really look at everyone this way, so don't think too much on it.
Mostly, though, their eyes are locked where the crowd parts, and there is a stage of sort, looking fairly hastily built. On the stage, there is a table with a hammer, parchment, a locked box, a pen and an ink bottle on it, next to which a man is standing. A man equipped with a full beard and rather fancy clothes, who's looking intently up at the sun (what little can be seen of it through the smoke, that is), only taking his eyes away to sweep his gaze across the crowd.
Soon enough, he seems pleased with the time, turns and claps his hands. Over half a dozen men, a few children and a dozen women, dirty, bruised and handcuffed, with clothes that barely cover anything, hair straggly with sweat and dirt are taken out of a building, pushed along, their obvious tiredness from how their feet dragged no excuse for them to go slow.
They're stood next to the stage, and one of the men are pushed onto it, and the bearded, seemingly wealthy man turns towards the crowd and grabs the hammer.
The auction begins.
Status: OPEEENNN
Style: Whatever floats your boat
Where: Yomisato, focused on Iron District but things can happen outside of it (there is a thread for that). But feel free to create your very own threads as well, if you need. Anything connected to the slavery business fits in this log. Feel free to mark the time in the thread subjects if needed.
When: Week 17, day 1, before or around noon
Rating: R, I guess. Trigger warning for slavery. Borderline nudity, or something.
Summary: It's auction time~ Righteous people are free to be righteous.
There is a slight lack of people on the streets of Yomisato today. If you're curious as to why, you'll get a clue if you follow some of the people heading towards the southern parts of the village where the metal districts are located. Or perhaps you already know what is going on, putting together two and two from reading the news this morning.
As soon as you enter the Iron District, there's a sudden loss of space and you might have to squeeze your way through here and there. Some people may look at you suspiciously, cautiously, with narrowed eyes, but unlike what you may think it's not because you're an outsider. After all, the Yomites don't care about this; not as long as you leave them to their business. No, they really look at everyone this way, so don't think too much on it.
Mostly, though, their eyes are locked where the crowd parts, and there is a stage of sort, looking fairly hastily built. On the stage, there is a table with a hammer, parchment, a locked box, a pen and an ink bottle on it, next to which a man is standing. A man equipped with a full beard and rather fancy clothes, who's looking intently up at the sun (what little can be seen of it through the smoke, that is), only taking his eyes away to sweep his gaze across the crowd.
Soon enough, he seems pleased with the time, turns and claps his hands. Over half a dozen men, a few children and a dozen women, dirty, bruised and handcuffed, with clothes that barely cover anything, hair straggly with sweat and dirt are taken out of a building, pushed along, their obvious tiredness from how their feet dragged no excuse for them to go slow.
They're stood next to the stage, and one of the men are pushed onto it, and the bearded, seemingly wealthy man turns towards the crowd and grabs the hammer.
The auction begins.