The next room that my yuanti captors led me was full of silks and other exotic fabrics. Immediately the yuanti began to dress me in various clothes, putting them on and then almost immediately taking them off. It was happening so fast I couldn’t keep track of how many outfits they had me in. Finally they all seemed to decide on one they liked. " and now you will be sssold, like the cattle you are." A skinny female hissed gleefully. Then a hood was placed over my head , with much difficulty on account of my horns. I was about to make a snide remark about bieng in to the hood when a hard blow struck me in the back of the head and I lost consciousness. When I awoke I could hear a cacophony of hissing and murmurs in front of me. There was also loud grunts and extremely heavy breathing to my left, and soft sobbing to my right. Then the hood was removed and I was greeted to a most horrendous sight. I was kneeling upon a theatre’s stage, in front of me was a hoard of yuanti; not just pure bloods and half bloods, but abominations as well. Each of the abominations was surrounded by a small entourage. I was not alone on the stage. To my left was a mass of muscle and grayish skin, a hill giant that was chained in irons. His hair was shaved in a few places, and the garments it wore were loose and haphazardly placed upon it, as if the yuanti had given up halfway through with cleaning him. To my right was a beautiful icariian, her wings strapped in leather binds and rope around her neck, she was sobbing into her hands as some of the yuanti close to the front of the stage hissed and jeered at her. Beyond her was the child of hades, and further still was a tall man with azure skin. He was a half djinn, and was unique in that he was surrounded by three yuanti half bloods in loose purple and gold robes. The yuanti mage hunters, infamous in their deadliness. Rumors circulated that they had undergone dark magic rituals to make themselves superior to other yuanti in the killing of spellcasters. They are something elder druids speak of in low whispers to scare the young fawns. The proverbial boogeymen of the magic communities. I never thought I’d see them in the flesh myself, the half djinn must have been a powerful mage to warrant three of them. But the most tragic thing of all was the theatre itself, this was meant to be a place for free expression and laughter, of song and dance, for the merriment of all. To have it turned into this market was a sacrilege to the arts and the Dionysian plays that should be gracing its vine covered walls. Then the crowd grew quiet as footsteps approached from behind. Out stepped an elegantly dressed pure blood, his robes trailing behind him as he stepped to the front of the stage. His eyes were a emerald green and his bald head was tattooed to look like scales, but the most striking of his appearance was his arms, which were scaled and ended in the heads of serpents. They both reared up and each began to hiss, a diffferent cadence, then the tattooed head began to speak as well, it sounded as though there were three different conversations bieng had in the same voice at the same time. The master of ceremonies as he was known was speaking, all were listening, and the slave auction had begun.