Hey guys! Lore here! Some of you may have recalled me talking about writing a story in that featured alternate reality versions of people on this site. Well here's the first installment.
As your humble hostess, allow me to explain a few things about this world first of all that will contribute to your overall understanding of the story.
The story is narrated by my character- Lorelei or "Lore"- a girl whose home village in her home kingdom is destroyed during a raid by bandits from a neighbouring kingdom and when found alive by the bandits in the rubble, she is taken to be sold as a concubine in a slave market.
It's after she is bought by a sweet-talking, quirky, equestrian king that the story really begins.
The geography of this world is simple enough. There are four kingdoms:
Aresia (The Kingdom of War)- ruled by a military dictator, has a medieval type arrangement to it and this is the kingdom that has chosen to attack the richest kingdom, Eternia, thus starting a war.
Eternia (The Kingdom of Light)- ruled by a king and his cabinet, famous for its once beautiful white marble cities, culture rich in music and dance and its glass statues. Once had an extremely good economy. However this kingdom has been torn through and ravaged by the war it has reluctantly entered with Aresia.
Ivion (The Kingdom of Nature)- ruled by the chief of the head tribe...and the laws of nature. Jungle landscape populated mainly by animals and ethnic tribes. Here is the kingdom where mankind and nature live completely in harmony. This kingdom, (I'm calling it that for the sake of convenience), is neutral but rumours are circulating that it will soon join the war. However which side it will join in alliance with, is still a mystery.
Oprio Tatogula (The Kingdom of Knowledge)- ruled by a dual monarchy between two kings and a council. This kingdom is comprised of small villages and the centrepiece is a huge Arabic palace. This kingdom is also firmly neutral and shows no interest in joining the war.
If you're wondering about the fourth kingdom's ridiculous name, well I got it from the actual name of the site: One Piece- Race To The Grand Line (OPRTTGL). I just seperated some consonants and added a few extra vowels. The residents normally just refer to the place as "Oprio" anyway. (^_^')
If you haven't guessed, the story is- for the most part- set here.
NOW ON TO THE INTERESTING PART:
Oprio is a kingdom that encourages the fostering of talents. So when a particularly awesome young man or woman (that's you guys, here on the site) is identified in one of the surrounding villages- they are sent straight to the palace where they must demonstrate their talent to either Emperor Admin (who monitors all combat-orientated talents) or Emperor Gael (who monitors all scholastic or cultural talents). If they are deemed worthy, they join the Oprion Guard, a community of the most elite powers in the kingdom. They all live in the palace, training and studying in complete secrecy.
Those born of royal and noble blood are recognised as princes or princesses (moderators) and take part in political activities while the other members of the Guard are divided into groups according to their talents- knights, craftspeople, scholars, mages, archers, performers and artists.
It is completely common for a single person's talents to overlap over two of the main categories: for example, a knight who is also a scholar or a mage who is also an artist.
You guys are talented peoples! Remember that! 
NOW FOR THE IMPORTANT PART:
I've already talked to some people about their place in the story (e.g. Lost, Ant, Dan) but if you'd like to be in this and you haven't spoken to me directly- you can either PM me or comment on this thread to provide the following information about your character.
Your name and nickname will come from your site name but if you'd really like a different name to be used, please specify.
I'll also need to know what category you'd like to be sorted into. As I've said, moderators are already acknowleged as princes and princesses but I'll need to know your skills.
Also, I'll need your hair, skin and eye colour (you can lie if you want! XD) in order to accurately describe what you guys look like through Lore's eyes. I know what some of you look like already but for those of you whom I've never seen, this information would be greatly appreciated. 
If you have concerns about the way I've written your character or you'd like them to have particular quirks or motives in the story, please PM me about that.
Some people here and there will also be getting their ages upped as I don't think a bunch of teenagers would be considered as verifiable political leaders even in this world...XD 
I'd like to think of this as a whole-site-contribution fic that I'm writing and as such, your happiness as a reader is paramount to me.
SO THEN! SHUT UP ASH!
I will now hand you over to the narrator of the story! Hope you enjoy this! Comments, critiques and reviews are greatly appreciated but not demanded by any means. I really hope you like this first chapter and I'd like to dedicate it to Gael, because he appears in it and because I've promised him this for so long.
*huggles*
WARNING: This chapter contains swearing, violence and brief sexual overtones. Proceed at your own risk.
So here we go...Enjoy! ***************************************************************************
Trying to open my eyes was the hardest part.
It wasn't that they were swollen or bruised like so much of the rest of my skin, thankfully.
I just couldn't bring myself to look upon what they had done.
To my home.
To my family.
To all the people that I had loved.
I was studying when the attack started, poring over a scroll and completely oblivious to the slow swell of panic that had begun to grow on the streets outside.
It's almost funny to think now, that I dismissed the initial screams of terror as the squeals of children playing in the street.
When you're not concentrating, it's almost morbidly hilarious how alike they sound.
Excitement and fear.
They feel the same too, don't they?
That clenching in your stomach. That hot flush that rises in your face and clouds your senses. That coldness that comes upon the rest of your body and causes you to shiver though your palms have started to sweat...
As cruel irony would have it, I was actually reading a piece on the subject of fear and violence at that moment.
Poems about war had never been a favourite of mine, but a good writer must always be versed in every genre, not just the ones that they are most comfortable with. Or at least that's what Papa used to always tell me.
He was my first tutor.
My family had no sons- just my three sisters and I- so father had no qualms about spending money to have me educated when I showed the most interest in literature. I've always loved poetry and story-telling and sometimes, I like to think that the Great Spirits granted Mama no sons as to ensure that I, alone, had the chance to study them.
Usually, it would be the first-born son or the most bookish son in the family who would receive tuition.
As supposedly trail-blazing as Eternia was, in terms of economy, it was always terribly old fashioned.
Young ladies were expected to marry at the age of eighteen and above all else, marriage to a skilled gentleman would always be considered the greatest achievement that a young lady could accomplish.
Young men were expected to receive tuition, attend university, join the army for two years and then marry a woman worthy of him.
For all the supposedly amazing fighters that we were often advertised to have in the armed forces, they were no help to my small village on the day that everything changed.
My eyes traced every single word on the page, studying each black ink character painted on parchment under the flickering yellow light of the candle at my desk.
The poet was describing the feelings of a young warrior about to head into battle for the first time and I wondered if the fear he described came from his own personal experience or simply from his own imagination.
The fact that he even had me questioning that was proof enough for me that he was an outstanding writer.
I swallowed, tracing the deft imprints where stylus had met parchment with a single fingertip, almost seeking to absorb his feelings through my skin.
The world that I lived in was an ivory tower...a fantasmic Utopia, free from conflict of any kind. I didn't even argue occasionally with my sisters!
No, my life was perfect and peaceful. Naive, perhaps, but I was content.
After all, I had no alternative means of living to compare it to. I was in my first year of womanhood. Soon, I would marry though I dreamt of one day becoming a writer...the war...was an inconceivable concept to me.
I tried my hardest to imagine it- the fear before the blade sinks into flesh, the ominous site of the attacking army, the horrors of battle, the pain of losing friends and family- but I just couldn't do it.
What place was there for such things in my perfect world anyway?
Little did I know that less than an hour later, my heart would know that fear all to well.
I can't even begin to describe what happened next.
Partly because, I only half-remember the events as they took place.
I remember wondering why the screaming and shouting of the "children" on the streets had gotten so loud and raucous. It was dusk after all and their parents should have long ago called them in.
I recall Papa suddenly bursting into my room, a look of genuine panic that I had never seen on his face before and the knife that he used to cut his tobacco clenched in his hand. Before I could ask what was going on, I was pushed into my own closet, instructed to stay quiet lest "they find me."
They? The next memories are blurred, all seeming to lapse together in my mind like a child's chalk drawing on the pavement, smeared and dulled by a cruel shower of rain.
I could hear Papa shouting, my sisters screaming as they, too, were instructed to hide. Mama crying...
At first, I thought the banging in the distance was the roll of thunder and the bottom just about dropped out of my stomach when I realised for the first time that the ominous cacophony was in fact, gunshots and cannon-fire. The only light came from the slit where the closet door met its frame and I didn't dare look out. I just sat there, silent, shaking, my heart in my mouth as I wondered if this was all some kind of twisted nightmare.
Suddenly I heard a symphony of shrieks mixed with the rough, belated yelps of warning-horns, announcing some kind of raid from a foreign kingdom.
Glass shattering.
Papa cursing.
Shouting.
Crashes.
The harsh brays of a foreign accent, bellowing harsher words in every direction.
The air filled with heat and the smell of smoke.
Furniture being destroyed.
More shouting.
Mama still crying.
Crackling.
The soul shocking sound of a blade being unsheathed.
More shouting.
Mama begging.
The banging of doors.
My youngest sister screaming...
Somewhere in the midst of it all, I must have passed out because all I can remember then is complete blackness.
Maybe it was for the better.
I didn't have to hear my parents and my sisters being slaughtered by the merciless front line army of Aresia.
When I finally awoke, everything was dark.
The candle in my room had gone out during the struggle and only the pale blue light of the moon, shone through the slit of the door.
It was much colder in the room than before. Coughing, I managed to pull myself to my feet, after a few moments of trying to piece together the shards of my shattered memories of what had happened before I passed out.
Oddly, I remembered the first few lines of the poem I had been reading.
I recited them under my breath to give my mind something to cling to other than growing terror as I made my way to the door of the closet.
It was silent, save for some rattling and shuffling beneath the floorboards under my feet. I resided in the attic bedroom, so normally, I could hear everything that went on in the house.
Normally my household was noisy and rambunctious.
The silence terrified me more than anything ever had before.
I swallowed, realising how dry my throat was and I didn't dare call out to anyone.
For a moment, I looked around my room and everything appeared untouched, despite the darkness. For that brief moment, I felt an insane, irrational kind of relief.
"Hey! Oi! Did you lot check upstairs!? I thought I saw an attic door earlier!"
"I fucking saw it too...we'd better check that this bunch haven't got more goods stashed above!" My eyes widened and my legs were suddenly drained of blood, paralyzed, unable to move. There was no point in hiding anyway, I often tell myself, in hindsight; they would have tore the room apart as they did every room in the house and found me anyway.
Their boots clunked and creaked on the wooden steps as they ran up the side-stairs.
I saw Aresian soldiers for the first time that night.
They were tall, hulking and swarthy, their faces dominated by thick black moustaches and heavy sideburns. Their red cloth, black armour and chainmail suits must have been heavy and the fact that they were able to move so easily in them made their strength more than obvious.
A rough, throaty chuckle.
"Well looky at what we have here, men..."There were three of them at first, I think. My memories, as I've said before, are blurry.
What I can vividly remember though, is the sheer size of their leader, his wicked, glinting black eyes...and the repulsive grin that grew on his face when he spotted me.
In a crazy moment of irrational fear, I tried to make a bolt across the room- despite my legs only half-obeying me.
"Hey! Where are you going, kitten?! Stay and play, baby!" The caught a hold of me easily.
I froze, making their work only that much easier, when I heard the sound of a blade being pulled from its sheath.
" I guess we missed one."
"Hey, hey...not so fast...let's have some fun with this one first."
"Flimsy little things, aren't these Eternians? Are you fucking sure that we won't break her?" They all chortled, their laughter ringing in my ears.
The leader hand his arms either side of mine, grabbing me tightly and holding me still. His strength was immense and my struggling soon became futile. Especially now, as my body quivered following their words.
Vomit rose in my throat at the prospect of what they were planning to do.
Terror and disgust helped me to find my voice and I finally spoke. "G-Get away from me! W-Where are my family!? What d-did you do to them?"
The question dropped from my lips automatically, even though I dreaded the answer.
"Feisty little kitten, aren't you?"
"Your family?! No use looking for them, bitch. Ha! All of your Eternian scum-clan are dead...in the Afterlife. But don't worry. You'll be joining them when we're done." Their words sliced me like knives.
My brain felt like it was swelling, my body went numb and I fell as limp as a doll in the arms of the Aresian ring-leader. The ability to struggle was no longer impossible to me...it was the
will to struggle that was no gone.
His gnarled hands suddenly rifled with the thin white cloth of my nightclothes.
"The crone downstairs was too old. The other three brats were too young. This one's ripe in age. She's just right..."
"Right. Let's be quick about this. We have to be out of here by dawn before the bastards in the Eternian army get here. Quit wriggling you little bitch!"
"Wait! Hold on a second..."
"What?!"
"Why bother with just bending her over when we could make some money from her?"
"...go on."
"Eternian slave-girls go for hundreds on the black markets because they're so uncommon. We should sell this skinny little bitch. There are hundreds of better girls for us in the Aresian brothels...and besides, like you said, the ones downstairs weren't the right age. This one is in bloom." Black, unforgiving eyes swivelled down on me. They were speaking of me as if I was nothing more than an animal but at that the time, I was too afraid to feel indignant.
The slave market?
I had only ever heard stories about it- men selling men for gold coins, condemning them to a lifestyle of back-breaking labour and endless abuse.
At that very moment, however, when in comparison to being raped and killed, the idea of slavery had never seemed so appealing.
I was suddenly jerked from my thoughts, harshly and repulsively, when one of the men violently groped me, sliding his hand under my blouse before shoving it downward. My eyes widened again, bile suddenly fresh in my throat once more.
I tried to writhe away from his calloused touch but his comerade held me in place. Tears bit at my eyes and I let out a breathy scream as he retracted his hand, smirking.
"Just as I thought. Kitten is a virgin. The pure bitches sell for thousands more than the others."
"Thousands? Crikey...maybe this one is worth more than just a quickie..." And so that settled that.
Everything that occured next seems more vivid than what happened before.
My wrists were bound with rope and I was hit in the chest a few times- to both hurt me and knock the air from my lungs. Papa had never once resorted to corporal punishment and I had never been hit before.
Like the mere animal they viewed me as, the unfamiliar pain soon conditioned me to cease my struggling and I was dragged down the stairs.
It was when we reached the main hallway- when I saw my Papa's hand laying strewn coming out of a doorway, a crimson trickle falling across the soft palm that had once clapped by shoulder and stroked my cheek- that I closed my eyes.
I just couldn't bear to think of what they had done to my family.
I didn't want to see their ravaged corpses as I knew that that would be the sight that would destroy me completely and there was no way I was going to break down in front of these men.
They already seemed to take sadistic pleasure in my pain and humiliation as it was.
I swallowed back tears and instead, murmured silent prayers for them.
I prayed that the Great Spirit would carry their souls away from this Hell with the first lights of dawn.
As I was forced out into the destroyed streets, under moonlight that seemed colder than usual, I suddenly started murmuring the first two lines of the poem again and again- the mantra that had held me earlier suddenly cradling my psyche again.
Bloodied sunlight strains and soaks the streets of stone,
No rest for the man who evades the sword, for he who walks alone... ********************************************************************************
The trek to the slave market, to the place I had only ever heard about in stories, was more gruelling than anything I had ever experiencd before.
I refused to let the stress permeate me though. I also gave up speaking. Fasting from words as if I was fulfilling some kind of twisted penance.
It didn't matter if they hit me or starved me. They were going to hit me and starve me anyway.
I just wanted it to be in punishment for my defiance rather than simply for their sick enjoyment.
Thankfully though, that was the
only way that they got their sick enjoyment.
After all, my purity had to be preserved.
I walked most of the distance, tied to the saddle of horse which was treated better than I was in terms of how often it was fed and kicked, being told: "Move faster."
The fabled slave market was located at the intersection of the boundaries between the four kingdoms and though it was full of life, I was too exhausted, aching and numb to the world to notice anything remarkable about it.
The tides of filthy, squawking people and beasts all crammed and chained together at the side of a podium where a fat, bearded brute screamed out number after number to a shouting, squabbling crowd of men and women in fine robes.
I
was relieved when I was finally taken from those vile Aresian men.
I was shoved into a tent, my wounds covered with wax and white paint as the smirking women who dressed me teased me about my pale skin and made other racist comments about Eternians.
My fair hair was forcefully combed into submission, my limbs scrubbed with hot water and rice grain and in the place of my tattered white-cloth blouse and shorts, I was given a black and gold dancer's costume.
Well, "dancer's costume" was a bit of a stretch...no pun intended. The outfit showed off a shameful amount of my bare skin and gripped areas of my body in an uncomfortable manner.
Then again, I had to assume that this was to be considered appropriate at what I was about to be sold as.
A concubine Otherwise known as a private, personal pleasure toy with no rights in any of the four kingdoms.
It was as if that fact had only hit me then and there, as one of the women trailed a red paintbrush across my lips, forcing me to look up into an ornamental mirror.
Before this, I had been happy to be alive, my mind firmly focused upon the past. Now, I had begun to dread the future.
A black leather-strap, my slave's collar, was tied around my neck and someone fixated a red-coloured tag to it.
I would later learn that this was a form of coding so that the auctioneer knew what to market the slave in question as.
Later, I would cynically laugh at this.
"Yes, because in a bikini-top and skirt, I could easily be mistaken for a farm-worker..." Then again, despite my detromentally indecent outfit, it was soothing for my blistered feet to be in a pair of soft shoes.
The women murmured among themselves as they rubbed kohl around my eyes and the man whom I could only assume to be one the Aresian men had sold me to, entered the tent. His accent was harsh and distinctly Ivionian.
Funny. I had always heard how "peaceful" Ivionians were, prior to this.
"This is the Eternian?"
"Ain't it obvious from her papery skin and straw-like hair?"
"Does she have a name?"
"She don't talk."
"What?"
"She don't talk. Hasn't said a word. Won't say a word."
And I didn't say a word. I did not break my vow of silence until I got out of the tent.
The first living being I spoke to, for three whole days was, in fact, a horse.
I was in the line, waiting to be inspected by the auctioneer before being hauled to the stage, my stomach sick, my heart throbbing and my body shaking. I found myself gripping the the crude wooden fence for support, looking around.
There were men with swords everywhere. No point in running.
Not that I could go very far on an empty stomach, a bruised body and I had never been particularly athletic. Also, I wasn't very certain where I could go.
I had no idea of which direction we had come from.
And my home village was in ruins...my family was dead...
That was the point at which I was ready to break. The point at which I was considering just begging one of the swordsmen to cut my throat then and there as I was eaten alive by my own grief...then I found a pair of kind blue eyes looking down upon me and warm breath against my shoulders.
Someone had left a large, muscular but gentle-eyed stallion tethered to the fence nearby. He was truly a beautiful beast.
He had soft roan fur and a light amber mane, unruly but soft looking. I couldn't help but reach out to pet his muzzle with trembling fingers. He gave a soft whinny and leaned into my touch, giving me permission to stroke him further.
He wore a rather ornate set of black rains and a saddle embossed with a crest that appeared to be a Jolly Roger- like that of a pirate's flag. Around his neck was a large working collar and the clumps of soft fur surrounding his large hooves gave him away to be a work-horse.
"Hello," I greeted gently, my voice a little croaky from lack of use. "Are you here to be sold too?" I smiled for the first time in three days. "You look better than I do. You'll sell for a higher price."
"GET AWAY FROM THAT HORSE, SLUT!"
A sharp hand came down across my face and I backed away automatically under the strike of the man who had bought me from the Aresians. He snarled at me. "Don't touch that stallion, you little whore. It belongs to a lord."
"Now, now, Carys," came a gentle, disapproving voice from the other side of the fence. "I have no problem with Big Mac making new friends."
The voice belonged to a young man, approxiamately of my own years, his face kind and youthful and his blue eyes bright behind his spectacles.
He walked up to the stallion and fearlessly ran his fingers through the amber mane, his own dark brown locks blowing in the light wind. "My men want to settle a bargain by the paddock. We've decided to take the new mare."
Immediately "Carys" bowed and scurried away, presumably to the horse paddock.
I lifted a hand to nurse my sore cheek and looked up at the man. The one who had been called a lord.
I wanted to thank him for some reason...but shame overtook me and I swallowed, looking down at the sandy ground.
He spoke to me again, still sounding gentle and jovial. "Do you like horses, ma'am?"
I was almost shocked into more silence at being addressed so politely but I managed to raise my own eyes to meet his and nod shakily. "Y-Yes. I do." I swallowed. Perhaps I shouldn't have been talking to him but the promise of a kind person to speak to in the midst of all this madness and harsh sea of human immorality was too much to resist. "D-Did you say that the horse's name is...Big Mac?"
He laughed softly and nodded. "Yes. Big Mac is my personal steed. Don't be afraid to give him a nice long pat. He may be a quiet fellow but he really likes the attention."
My quivering smile remained in place and I lifted my hand to pat the gentle giant once again. "He's...he's magnificent. A very strong beauty. He reminds me of the horses that that we used to keep in Eternia to work in the fields...I'd stay up from dawn to twilight to watch them galloping across the fields...they'd often inspire me to write..."
My eyes started to sting and water and immediately I cursed myself for saying such a thing.
The lordly man, swept his long blue cloak aside and looked to me with concern for a moment, his brow furrowed slightly but his tone curious and interested. "You're from Eternia?"
I nodded, sniffing and feeling pathetic for being afraid to speak, lest my tears fall.
He lowered his voice. "And you're being sold here today? You'll excuse me but you don't seem like the typical...slave...type..." He gestured to my slave collar and exhaled. "Did your family need the money?"
I shook my head, feeling a hot, wet bead of moisture fall down my cheek. "My family were killed by Aresian men. They took me here to make money for their own gain...rather than killing me too."
The lord's features suddenly seemed to crease and melt but before he could speak again, Carys returned.
"Well, Lord Gael," he said, beaming. "The deal has been closed. The new mare is all yours and she is now being taken care of by your men." He blinked, looking between Lord Gael and I before grinning wider. "Master, have you taken interest in this slave-girl here?" He suddenly grabbed my forearm, forcing me to come closer to the fence. "Inspect her if you wish. She's in good condition. Healthy. Speaks well. Upperclass breeding. Thin. Eternian fair hair. Also, she's
guaranteed pure. Untouched." Carys grinned and I flinched when he suddenly pushed me forward, towards Lord Gael. "I'm sure we can agree on a good price..."
The young man raised his hands for a moment, slightly taken aback and his eyes were deep in thought. "Uh...I..."
A loud brassy horn sounded off from somewhere and Carys grabbed my arm again. I winced; his grip was rough and far too tight. "This one is due to be auctioned off during the next show...she's a one-time off-"
"I'll take her." He looked to me, smiling gently. "My name is Gael of Oprio. What's your name?"
I was so stunned for a moment that my voice evaded me but I did manage to softly tell him. "Lorelei."
********************************************************************************
Cliffhanger!!! So tell me if you think this fic is going well! The next chapter will take place in Oprio's castle and more characters will be introduced. This was just an introductory kind of thing.
Hope you liked!
Xx Lore 
Mon Jan 09, 2012 8:39 pm
*glomps* 
