Collecting Payment
#1
Never before had she been so glad for the furs she had. Amy had paid a pretty penny for caribou to drag a sled holding her supplies to the tribe, leaving behind the horse and wagon she'd used in lower lands. Amy wasn't planning on repeating the trip though. She'd collect rare and valuable items and make sure to never return to the biting cold. Her fur was thick, but never before had she dealt with such low temperatures. The perpetual white was blinding to her eyes as she shuffled through the snow, working towards a house. Maybe there someone would be willing to trade with her.

Amy didn't bother knocking, just barging in out of the cold. Shivering she stamped her feet, thinking about how useful a trade for boots would have been. She'd been foolish though, and hadn't gone through with it, seeing no purpose when paws worked just as well. She knew better now. Grumpy Amy flicked the last of fur from her coat before graciously taking it off. She was an elegant sight in the land of snow, a pure blond that seemed like a ray of sun on the snow. Her hair curled out from a delicate ponytail, letting some escape and curl around her face. Sharp brown eyes looked around, trying to find the owner. It was useless if there was no one to trade with.

She heard movement in another room, and moved to investigate it. A small curtain fell across an area, marking another room. Amy pulled it back, revealing an old wolf, dying. The stench of death was clinging to the body as it continued to breath, seeping further and further away. There was no cure for this. Disappointed at having found the owner unavailable Amy turned to leave.
#2
Alexandrea had gone back to her room quickly, having forgotten her paintbrushes, and was there now digging through her few belongings and searching for her brushes. She was so focused on her task she didn’t even hear the sound of the wooden door to her home as it opened and closed. The young Luperci continued with her task until her fingers brushed across a familiar surface and her ears pricked up in delight as she grabbed a hold of her favorite brush. She stood up and with her brush and jars of paints and herbs in her arms, she turned around and left her room, nosing the close hanging over the entrance aside with her long muzzle.
She froze in her tracks when her blue gaze fell on the form of a stranger, and her eyes widened in surprise as the fur over her shoulder prickled, though the pale grey sweeter prevented her pelt the bristle up. Then she realized that this stranger was peering into her adopted grandmother’s room, and her ears instantly flattened as a fierce sense of protectiveness surged through her. She walked over to this stranger, just as she turned around.
Alexandrea faced this golden furred creature, looking up at her with a wary stare, while she struggled to find the appropriate words. Now facing the stranger eye-to-eye she found that the courage she felt had vanished and was replaced with unease. What now? She shifted from one hind paw to the next, as her ears swerved to the side of her head in uncertainty rather than hostility. She opened and closed her muzzle as if she couldn’t remember how to talk and was trying to recall.
“Excuse me…” She started with a quiet voice, averting her gaze to the ground. “I’d rather if you didn’t disturb Sacnite… She’s resting.” Then she stepped to the side and dipped her head. “If you’d like…” She trailed off for a moment as she gestured to the front room. “I could… give you my services.” She glanced around, suddenly feeling nervous. This stranger was clearly a foreigner, with her thinner pelt and glorious fur. She’d never interacted with foreigners before and she was worried about what might happen.

[ooc: 369 Word count.]
#3
This is the tagging for bold:

Amy stared at the young hybrid. Come to think of it, she did smell vaguely like the other in the room. She didn't seem to know that her grandmother was dying though. Amy chuckled in delight. She was a young sweet soul, just the kind that amused her the most to watch twist in pain. Her ears pricked at the offer of services. You work? She had come to trade, and now it appeared her trek wouldn't be for nothing. Pleased with this turn of events Amy moved herself over to a chair, graciously taking a seat.

I'm a trader myself. She studied the young figure nervously clutching the brush. She seemed too young to be capable, but Amy had already been able to use a dagger with some skill at that age. This wolf might be able to have a talent worth paying for. What exactly do you do here? She gestured through the room. You hold a brush, yet there's no canvas. Lazily she looked through the sparse settings. Obviously the wolves in this home were rather poor. Anything she offered would be greatly appreciated.

Your grandmother's sick. If you can demonstrate your skill, I might have something to help her. Amy waited for the pup's performance, eager to see what she could do. The old wolf was near death, so she must have already been caring for herself for quite some time. She was eager to see the skills involved.
#4
Alexandrea glanced up at the stranger when she spoke, her black-tipped ears twitching slightly, though her face remained pointed downwards; a subtle sign of respect and submission. She dipped her head and nodded very slightly at the first question that was directed toward her. She wasn’t much of a talker and she would tend to avoid speaking whenever she could. She knew that her nature and actions would often subject her to grief, especially with many who could easily take advantage of her timid personality.
The young Luperci followed the stranger to the room she had gestured to, and listened intently to the words she had to say as she found a chair and sat down. She bite onto a straying lock of her mane and nibbled on it, as she thought of the right words to say. “I’m a shaman…” She started slowly, while crouching down in front of her potential customer. “I know of healing herbs… and I’m skillful in my spiritual artwork.” She glanced up at the stranger before looking down again.
Realizing that this outsider might not know much about what she was saying, Alexandrea chose to explain further. “I paint symbols on the body.” She said holding up her armful of painting jaws with the paintbrush gripped in one hand. “The paint holds healing properties, and the symbols will encourage certain forms of energy to flow freely.” Her blue eyes darted around the room as she spoke, trying to keep distracted so she would be able to speak better.
Her white fur ruffled slightly as she set her jars down, feeling a wave of unease wash over her and send a chill creeping through her. She took a small silent breath through her black nose, before she carried on. “Depending on what you might need at the time, will affect the painting… There are symbols meant to increase luck... courage…” She trailed off, thinking of all the symbols that she knew of, but instead she simply stopped speaking, deciding that she had said more than enough. At that moment she chanced a glance at the stranger again, as she awaited her response.
She felt encouraged when the older Luperci had mentioned being a merchant and having the possible possession of something that may cure her adopted grandmother. It gave her a bit of courage and allowed her to summon up as much of her knowledge as she could. She couldn’t afford to let this customer down, and loss a valuable payment. She rested her hand on one of her jars as she blinked up at the stranger, awaiting an “okay”.

[ooc: 435 word count. I know how to bold... I just thought it might have been different here... >.<]
#5
http://www.soulsrpg.com/ipb/index.php?sh...=11721&hl=icons For collar and other picture stuff

A shaman! Amy's lips curled up in a smile. Shamans were useful indeed. Her mind switched from buying something exotic to collecting somebody exotic. As a slave shamans were usually in high demand, giving the spiritual comfort that dark souls often wanted and free beings wouldn't give. Amy considered the wolf's offer. How about one for luck. She didn't necessarily need any to be able to take the shaman with her, but any extra help would be appreciated. Amy still wanted a demonstration of the girl's work as well.

Are there many of you here? Amy's questions changed, aiming to measure the girl's worth now. Her eyes studied the budding artist. The appearance was important as well in this case. Since they were to represent purity scars and deformities would make it more difficult to sell her. There seemed to be nothing wrong with the girl though. The sweater hugged her body warmly, showing off the shape. The only thing Amy would wish to change would be removing the black streak. Being pure white would boost it even more.

It was her policy to be honest in business though. The black streak wouldn't be hidden. Amy's ears twitched as she thought about how to boost the sales. The healing knowledge was a good one. Even if the buyer wasn't spiritual they would be able to see the girl's worth. Her knowledge of spirits and soft spirit were good selling points as well. Maybe she could advertise the black streak as what showed her connection to the spirits?
#6
Alexandrea flicked her ears when she heard the customer’s request and she set down all of her jars and paint brush, before getting to her hind paws. She paused and swept away the dust that had fallen onto her dark baggy pants, and then made her way to the other side of the room and kneelt down in front of the low shelf there. She rummaged through for a short moment and then returned holding a small object in her hands. “I should mention…” She started glancing carefully at the other female. “… That all my paintings can provide you with all they have to offer, not just one thing."
With that she kneeled again opened a jar, a scent of herbs rising from the dull orange color; since she lived on such a barren frozen land, she wasn’t able to get many plants that provided her with colors, and she had very little dye to work with. She opened the small vile that she selected from the self, pulling off the cork and sprinkling some of the strange powder into the pain. It had a strong smell that seemed please and elate the senses.
She grabbed her brush and dipped it into the paint, stirring for a second, than stood up slightly. She reached out carefully and respectfully, hoping not to offend her customer, as she gentle gripped her wrist and held out her arm. She watched for any signs of anger or displeasure of any kind, and hoping that she truly detected none, she continued, turning her gaze to her work.
Alexandrea raised the brush and brought it down on the pale golden fur, relieved to see that the color stood out well, despite the rather boring shade and texture. She began to make precise strokes of her brush as she painted along the arm held out before her; the color snaked around the arm and curled her and there in elegant curves and turns. A simple yet beautiful symbol began to take shape, winding around the length of the arm, some strokes circling around bold spots.
She whipped the brush over her pants, before opening another jar, once she was satisfied with the main symbol. She opened another jar, this one holding a substance with a dark red color. She dipped the tip of her brush into the pain and lifted it again. She began to highlight the symbol, complimenting the shape and adding the charm and beauty. She made careful strokes with the bolder color and made the symbol stand out much more.
Alexandrea then stopped and looked at the symbol she had painted, feeling satisfied with her work and happy to see that her talent was always improving. She whipped her brush over her pants again, and started to close the jars and vials, sparing a glance at the foreigner. Was she happy with the work? Was she satisfied? Questioned whirled about in her mind like the bitter wind outside of her home.

[ooc: 498 word count.]
#7
The wolf's grip was tender, her words submissive. Amy was used to such treatment, expecting nothing less. The brush slid over her fur, gently tickling it. She was startled by the initial damp touch, but quickly relaxed. The rhythmic movements provided a soothing background for her plagued mind. It was but a brief respite, allowing her to forget about the difficulties outside.

The young shaman stepped back, respect in her gaze. Amy examined the bold design, admiring the flairs. She had smelled the herbs in the paint, so she hadn't been sure what to expect. Her eyes met a bold design, a bright twisting orange accented with blood red. The experience had been perfect. The girl was submissive, allowing no insult. Her tone was respectful, as appropriate for addressing superiors. Her touch was soft as well, soothing to experience.

If Amy didn't know better she'd think the girl was the perfect slave. Even untrained she held the air that Amy wanted in her slaves. This was perfect. She didn't expect to find a better specimen. The girl would be hers, as young as she was. It's good. Amy wouldn't back down from her payment though, withdrawing a small bag of herbs. These herbs are for healing purposes. I don't know if they'll help your grandmother, but it helps blood circulation and boosts one's ability to fight disease. It was a small price. The old wolf might be made more comfortable because of the herbs, but it wouldn't fix her.

Amy leaned forward, looking the young hybrid right in the eye. What's your name?
#8
Alexandrea almost held her breath as the customer examined her work, looking it over with sharp eyes, and the young Luperci swallowed nervously with a curious tilt of her head. It was hard to tell what the foreigner was thinking and at the angle she was in she couldn’t quite see her face and therefor wasn’t able to read it. She nibbled on her lower lip and fidgeted slightly as the customer continued to scan the pattern over her arm. Did she like it? Was it okay? She waited with her heart pounding and pulse racing, until she finally spoke, saying that it was good.
The young wolf-dog was almost stunned with surprise as well as relief, and thought that her heart would beat right out of her chest when she saw the customer hold out a small bag that held a heavy scent of herbs. Quickly and carefully nudging the jars out of her way she scooted close her hands outstretched, to grasp the bag in her eager hold. She clutched the herbs close to her, gazing down at them with wonder and hope, as her ears pricked up to catch what else her customer had to say. She could feel her spirits soar above the clouds with those words that she heard, and she nuzzled the bag with joy.
Then the young white canine felt a jolt of surprise when the customer suddenly appeared much closer, having leaned in as she asked her another question. She blinked her bright blue eyes, but forced herself to remain still; she wasn’t used to being in such close proximity with someone else and it made her feel uneasy and a bit uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t dare want to offend this Luperci who had given her such valuable herbs. She swallowed, before finally opening her muzzle to speak. “I… I’m Alexandrea Sacnite.” She spoke with a slight bow, both from addressing herself and as a polite gesture of apology, as she moved away and inched towards her grandmother’s room.
“Please, excuse me…” She said in her quiet soft tone, as she glanced at the cloth that draped over the entrance, now feeling very eager to get these herbs to her. With another swift and lower bow, she quickly darted to the other room. She padded quickly to the bedside and smiled down at her guardian, before setting down the small bag at her side. She’d apply the herbs to her shortly, but she couldn’t leave her customer alone like that; it was rude. She nuzzled her grandmother affectionately before returning to the foreigner.
“I’m sorry about that.” She apologized with an almost regretful look. She had been so eager to treat her adopted grandparent that she had been very rude to her generous customer. She flicked her ears as she bowed yet again. Then she suddenly remembered her previous question, she lowered her ears in embarrassment and further shame. She glanced around nervously, as she spoke again. “My grandmother was the only Shaman before she trained me.”

[ooc: 505 Word count.]
#9
The only shaman of a lone arctic tribe. She'd come across quite the prize indeed. Now all that was left was taking the girl with her. Gingerly Amy reached back into her pocket. There was a powder there that would knock out the person who inhaled it. She was careful not to breath it in herself as she held it in her hands, positioning it in front of the small shaman's nose. Swiftly she blew, letting the dust settle over the girl's nose.

There was no waiting now. Amy stooped down to catch the girl as the drugs kicked in. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing what else she would need. Of course her special girl would need the paints she used. Amy didn't know the recipe, and she wasn't sure how long until they stopped. The paint would have to last until then. The grandmother was already basically dead, so there were no worries there. The tribesmen were a minor worry, but if she bundled the girl in furs it would just look like trade supplies.

The girl was surprisingly light. Gently Amy put her on the ground. It wouldn't do to have her wonderful prize damaged. That would lower the value. She moved around with a surprising speed for such a delicate looking creature. The paints were gathered and wrapped, furs taken to wrap around her.
#10
Alexandrea glanced up when she thought she noticed the foreigner move closer toward her, but before she was able to register anything in her mind, she found a hand before her face. She was left blinking in surprise, unsure of what was going on, and a second later she flinched as a strange powder was blown into her face. She gasped in shock and in that instant darkness swamped over her and clouded her mind. She was rendered unconscious and went limp as she fell to the ground, her entire world going black.
She was completely and utterly knocked out cold, and wasn’t the slightest bit aware of being moved about and wrapped in furs. The very few of her belongings were either on her, or scattered about in the room where she worked. She had a bag that she used to carry her things and collect herbs, as well as a small collection of paint jars and vials of powder. Her precious paintbrush was the only real thing that had value; it was made of a rare material from a creature in the Arctic that isn’t seen often and very difficult to catch. There were small carvings etched into the handle and the bristles were soft and well kept. It wasn’t something that was handed down to her. The only clothing was what she wore and she had no other personal belongings, as a Shaman life quite often left them with little possessions other than the bare minimum of what they needed. She did however have a very large Polar Bear pelt stored away in her room, when she may need extra warmth for whatever occasion.
Out in the village most males were busy out hunting and foraging for food, while the females were distracted with various duties that required their precise touch. The very few pups played about in the snow, not in the least phased by the bitter cold. The elders were tucked away indoors, where they could be kept warm and well.

[ooc: 336 word count. Well... I simply don't have a whole lot to post now do I?]
#11
I'm sorry, did you want a struggle? We can't damage the goods now, can we?Tongue

It only took a moment for Amy to clear out all the supplies in the small house. They were even more poor than she'd first thought, not even a second change of clothes. That would be a problem. Amy would have to lend Alexandrea clothes when she modeled her for sales. Still, it wasn't bad all in all. Easily she hefted the girl up, taking her out to the sled. Carefully she wrapped the precious package up, packing the various supplies around her.

Done with her task Amy took a small handful of goods to leave as payment. A book of myths and a couple otter pelts were the chosen sacrifices. Amy climbed onto the back and clicked her tongue. The caribou snorted, starting a good clip out of the village. She frowned, not satisfied with the speed. The powder was only a temporary effect to let her secure the slave. She could wake up before they were clear of the village.

A quick flick of the whip fixed that though. The caribou startled into a gallop. In only a few minutes they were clear of the tribe and heading south. At last Amy would be warm, and actually make some good trades. She was never going to return there! It was unfortunate that she wouldn't make it to the wagon in a single day, but she had enough of a head start the villagers would struggle with catching her. Amy grinned, excited at beginning to break in her new toy.


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