ChiefNerfHerder
Virgin
- Joined
- Nov 7, 2012
- Posts
- 26
A fog hung heavily over the streets of Zendar. Jax, of House Matius, moved through those streets watching for thieves, who were sure to make use of the fog. He clutched his leather satchel tightly, knowing it was important that his master's message was delivered.
Jax was a tall, muscular man with long dark hair. It was twisted into a braid down his back which swung as he walked. He was wearing the leather harness of a gladiatorial slave and nothing else.
As he made his way he thought of better days, when he was free. He had been born a free man and had been raised by his uncle the carpenter. It was only in his sixteenth year that his uncle had sold him into slavery to cover his gambling debts. Jax still hadn't forgiven the man, and someday would have his revenge.
In Zendar you knew who everyone was by their mode of dress. Household slaves wore simple shifts and gladiators leather harnesses. The rich and powerful wore silk gowns and sex slaves wore nothing at all, save for whatever jewelry their master might gift them with. Common laborers wore tunics and tradesman wore much the same, though of better quality. You could judge a man in an instant based upon his attire.
Jax walked for miles and the fog started to lift. He passed the slave market, where the slaves were paraded nude for all to see and the Colosseum with it's banners advertising the latest hedonistic displays. Finally he arrived home, at the marble house of his master.
He stepped into the front foyer and nodded to the armor guard on duty. Hector was a hired guard, and not a slave, but he did not put on airs like most freemen. He was a rare being in a world where every level of society looked down on those below them, with slaves only slightly above beggars in the streets.
(PM to join; This is a male/female story.)
Jax was a tall, muscular man with long dark hair. It was twisted into a braid down his back which swung as he walked. He was wearing the leather harness of a gladiatorial slave and nothing else.
As he made his way he thought of better days, when he was free. He had been born a free man and had been raised by his uncle the carpenter. It was only in his sixteenth year that his uncle had sold him into slavery to cover his gambling debts. Jax still hadn't forgiven the man, and someday would have his revenge.
In Zendar you knew who everyone was by their mode of dress. Household slaves wore simple shifts and gladiators leather harnesses. The rich and powerful wore silk gowns and sex slaves wore nothing at all, save for whatever jewelry their master might gift them with. Common laborers wore tunics and tradesman wore much the same, though of better quality. You could judge a man in an instant based upon his attire.
Jax walked for miles and the fog started to lift. He passed the slave market, where the slaves were paraded nude for all to see and the Colosseum with it's banners advertising the latest hedonistic displays. Finally he arrived home, at the marble house of his master.
He stepped into the front foyer and nodded to the armor guard on duty. Hector was a hired guard, and not a slave, but he did not put on airs like most freemen. He was a rare being in a world where every level of society looked down on those below them, with slaves only slightly above beggars in the streets.
(PM to join; This is a male/female story.)
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