The Orphaner

1 week ago

@orphanerAmpora[OA]

I haVVe alVWWays found the markets terribly tedious affairs. Too much barking. Too much paperVWWork. Too many thin little "men" insisting that the trembling little merchandise before you possesses some rare and indispensable quality conVVeniently VWWorth thousands of caegar. Strength. Obedience. LongeVVity. A particularly attractiVVe set of horns, perhaps. You VWWould imagine they VWWere selling hoofbeasts for racing. Mm, but not. Mindfang VWWanted neVWW hands aboard her VVessel, and I had been generous enough to accompany her in this one instance. Generosity is VWWasted upon that VWWoman. But I VWWas younger then, and occasionally mistook our indulgences for affection. The auctioneer had produced a line of perhaps tVWWenty. Rusts, mostly. A feVWW bronzes. One yelloVWWblood VWWith a spine in him that almost resembled courage. Of course, such a trait is reserVVed only for the more eloquent castes. Not this driVVel. I remember groVWWing bored halfVWWay through the inspection. The droning on of the auctioneer, the VWWhimpering as my hand dreVWW close to their faces, the dreadful feeling of Mindfang in my midst. So, I dreVWW Ahab. It VWWas rare that they alloVWWed VWWeapons into these sorts of eVVents, but VWWhat VWWere they going to do? Take it from me? These Ceruleans and Indigos running these sorts of affairs are only a facsimile of poVWWer, saVVe for one special blue jeVWWel of the sea. It improVVed the afternoon considerably. There is something clarifying about placing such a VWWeapon in a troll's mouth. ConVVersation ceases, negotiation ceases, and the room draVWWs suddenly quiet. All of the little inVVentions VWWith VWWhich the loVWWer castes furnish themselVVes, such as dignity, principle, outrage... They all become VVery small things indeed VWWhen compared to the barrel still VWWarm from its preVVious use. I told the first one to open. He did. I told him farther. He obliged. The second required some encouragement, but I am certain the tip of his horn VWWould groVWW back. His VWWorth certainly VWWouldn't. The third, oh, the third, she thought that resistance VWWas preferable. That expression in her eyes. She thought she kneVWW VWWhat it meant to hate. I kneVWW in that moment, as Ahab had been coddled by the VVestibular folds of her throat, that she had only begun to understand an inkling of hate. Hate is something reserVVed for the likes of the nobility. And so, as VWWas my due diligence, I fired Ahab. I gaVVe her plenty of chances, you knoVWW. WWhen the troll did not open upon my first order, that VWWas the first strike. Then, VWWhen she had the audacity to tell me "No," it VWWas the second. Normally, I VWWould haVVe opted to grind her to dust in that moment, but Mindfang had a leisurely lust for the feminine ones. So I laughed it off. She seemed confused, of course. But in that half-second of relief, I had primed Ahab doVWWn past her teeth. Her recoil VWWas enough to make her VWWhole body seize against her restraints. The third strike came from giVVing the idea of resistance to the other stock. I simply told her that she VWWas "GiVVen the Opportunity." Then I had to pull the trigger. The shot rang across the auction floor, burning a hole through the VWWood behind her and deeper into the auction hiVVe. Her VViscera splattered about, but the mercy of Ahab is that, no matter hoVWW deep the VWWound, it is cauterized. I paid the penance for damaging the property VWWith a feVWW caegar and kept one of her eyes as my trophy. That same eye, once so full of hate, seems to haVVe VVery little in the VWWay of malice VWWithout a disgusting face to contort it. The fourth learned VVery quickly from the third. And so VWWe proceeded. Open. Farther. Good. Next. It became almost relaxing. Mindfang VWWatched from beneath that ridiculous hat of hers VWWith the expression she reserVVed for occasions on VWWhich she VWWished to pretend my behaVVior offended her sensibilities VWWhile simultaneously enjoying eVVery second of it. EVVentually, one of the rustbloods began crying. Not loudly. I VWWill grant him that. I asked VWWhat troubled him. He managed, VWWith some difficulty, to explain that he did not VWWant to die. I laughed. LoVWWbloods tell the damnedest jokes. "I don't VWWant to die!" Ha. To be born loVWWly is to be born dead. A true death VWWas the kindest outcome aVVailable to him. Consider the alternatiVVes. He could be purchased. WWorked until anything essential inside of him surrendered. Passed around betVWWeen oVWWners. Could be conscripted. Fed into some imperial campaign to die for a commanding officer VWWho might neVVer learn his name. Perhaps he could liVVe long enough to VWWatch eVVery troll he had eVVer cared for disappear into those machineries I had described. Or. I could pull one trigger. Gone. No debt. No serVVice. No imperial census. No future. No disappointment. I haVVe heard loVWWbloods speak of mercy as though it must be gentle. WWhat an extraordinarily priVVileged definition. Mercy is simply the remoVVal of suffering. I haVVe remoVVed quite a lot of it. For the record, Mindfang purchased tVWWelVVe that afternoon. SeVVen surVViVVed the inspection. She accused me afterVWWard of VWWanting to driVVe up the cost per head. I had to assure her that quality control is neVVer free. #gore #horror #abuse #nsfVWWe #cVWW-slaVVery #cVWW-execution #cVWW-torture