It was hot as usual in Essyrn, especially so in the market district as a large mass of people gathered to witness the day's slave auction. This event usually gathered a decently sized crowd of a fifty to a hundred people, but today, there were more than two hundred and fifty people waiting to sink their teeth into a particular person up for purchase: the hated criminal, Isaphne Dycia.
One would have to be living under a rock to have not heard of her and the atrocities she imparted upon the bodies of the city's guards, soldiers, and anybody who got in her way. Many of them were standing in the crowd sporting such wounds: missing eyes, ears, noses; mangled, burned facial features; and in some of them, the brand of a sickle pressed into their forehead to deter others from messing with the Bloody Sickle gang. Rather than killing her victims in order to avoid the death sentence, Isaphne used these horrifying but non-lethal methods to get her message across.
And she was hated for it. Being the main draw of the event, she was the last one brought on stage to be auctioned, and when finally she appeared, wearing a tattered cloth around her perky chest, a loin cloth around her waist, and a thin white veil over her facial features, all manner of insults, fruit, and rocks were thrown at her. Her mere presence brought out such hatred and malice from the crowd.
Perfect for business, An older woman wearing a fine, layered dress with red, yellow, orange and white shades on each layer, thought as she stepped out onto stage beside the fruit-and-bruise-covered young woman, who hadn't flinched in spite of the heavy objects that were thrown at her. "Settle down, settle down, people of Essyrn!" The auctioneer shouted in a deep, womanly voice that broke through the angry ranting of the crowd, causing them to lower their projectiles for the time being.
"Should you win today's auction, you can throw all of the rocks you'd like, but I'd like to remind you that as of right now, any further damage to my product will be reimbursed by you." That managed to stop them rather quickly. With a wide smile, the auctioneer clasped her hands together. "As I'm certain you're all aware, today's main attraction is none other than Isaphne Dycia, scourge of the sands, a most heinous criminal! So to commemorate her deeds, bidding today will begin at one silver," The woman gave a side-glance and a smirk toward Isa.
One... silver? The slave thought to herself in disbelief. A single silver was all that she was worth? A peasant could afford that! But as she soon learned, the single silver turned into a gold, to twenty, to fifty... it was their intention to draw this out as long as possible to humiliate Isa, who for the second time in four days, realized the weight that her actions had upon the people of Essyrn.
At first, she stood tall with her chest out, but with every silver or gold that was tacked onto her price tag, her head lowered a little bit until she was staring, wide-eyed, down at her feet. Since her imprisonment she'd certainly realized the weight of her actions, but for this hatred to be so up-close and visceral that she could see it with a small, upward tilt of her head... almost needless to say, a few droplets of water fell from beneath the veil that masked her face onto the stone platform she stood upon.
Everybody wanted a piece of her. Three hundred gold, four hundred, it was rising so quickly that the auctioneer was having a hard time keeping track of her price.
