NationStates Jolt Archive

Open Slave Market(buy and sell) Open character RP

IC:
It was upon a small island in the middle of several popular shipping lanes that the compound was built; a small collection of refurbished bunkers upon little more than a large, grass-covered sand bar and a few acres of palm forrest. A century ago, it been neutral ground for negotiation and prisoner-exchange between two rival nations sense lost to the sands of time; now, it was about to become neutral ground for something of... lesser virtue.



In time, word was spread to known slavers and those with whom their product was in demand; neutral ground, not a market, but merely a 'trade show' of sorts, where like minded parties might examine wares and arrange later deals.

The setup was simple; interested parties would send one or several 'expendible' representitives, paying $250'000 USD 'at the door'. Security would be handled by contrated, dependible mercenaries, and there would be drinks and refreshments avalible 24/7, in a setup akin to a gentilmans club where most business would likly take place; weapons were even permitted, but only sidearms. The only hard rules were that no slaves was to be brought onto the premisis, and no monies exchange hands in payment for slaves while on the island; doing so, it was made quite clear, would get the offenders killed or enslaved themselves. Pictures, holograms, and other records would have to do, but several plasma-arc incinerators insured at any raid would only find (more of less :wink:)legitimate businessmen enjoying good drink and a little shop talk.



To the rest of the world, it was the private retreat of some anonymous billionare, who didn't really exist, but regaurdless had holdings in several large, perfectly legitimate multinational corperations; it would only be natural for this ficticious man to meet with mid-level members of corperate, government, and even criminal orginizations in managing his wider business intrests. A perfect cover.




OOC:
After seeing so many nations try trafficing in slaves only to get blockaded, invaded, or glassed, I thought I'd provide a semi-secure meeting place to arrange things; a descrete alternitive to what often amounts to an international declaration by would-be slavers :wink:


Now, anyone who's not interested in buying or selling needs a really good excuse to find out about this ICly, and I'd rather not have my thread killed by someone bombing the isle back into the sea, so please don't post if you're going to do anything too... overt. Infiltration for gathering intel is fine, but no raids or the ilk, ok?


And no, the Kanuckistani government has absoloutly nothing to do with this. Peroid. :wink:

OOC:These representative's are from the minister of slave trading's office and i am not going to do any military operations here.

The representative's walked of the boat and when they reached the entrance they paid $250'000 USD they then asked the mercenary if they could keep some weapons and military guards on their boat in case anything went wrong.

*************************************************************

They immediately searched for other "dealers" and went and got some refreshments.

Tag.

OOC: Is it alright if I RP a Watertest Goverment Agent landing at your island. While on the island he purchases two slaves from a unknown third-world country. Once the slaves are bought, I will send them to Watertest where they will be freed. Both of their stories will be broadcasted on WNN to the world........What do you think? I don't want to ruin your thread. :?

OOC: Is it alright if I RP a Watertest Goverment Agent landing at your island. While on the island he purchases two slaves from a unknown third-world country. Once the slaves are bought, I will send them to Watertest where they will be freed. Both of their stories will be broadcasted on WNN to the world........What do you think? I don't want to ruin your thread. :?

OOC: Well, you couldn't buy them here; you could only arrange to buy them. This is just a place for interested parties to get together and set things up away from the prying eyes of the international community.

I'm hoping this will sort of run itself, but I will provide buyers/sellers if needed to stimulate activity.

OOC: Is it alright if I RP a Watertest Goverment Agent landing at your island. While on the island he purchases two slaves from a unknown third-world country. Once the slaves are bought, I will send them to Watertest where they will be freed. Both of their stories will be broadcasted on WNN to the world........What do you think? I don't want to ruin your thread. :?

OOC: Well, you couldn't buy them here; you could only arrange to buy them. This is just a place for interested parties to get together and set things up away from the prying eyes of the international community.

I'm hoping this will sort of run itself, but I will provide buyers/sellers if needed to stimulate activity.

OOC: What I meant is that I would arrange to buy the slaves on the island from the unknown third world country. The actual slave transaction wouldn't take place on the island. If you don’t want me to do this then I’ll delete the post below and leave you alone.

Kyle was deep in thought about the mission he was assigned to by the Watertest Intelligence Agency. Apparently an island that was supposed to be a billionaire’s getaway was being used for arranging to purchase slaves from various countries. Kyle was posing as a Slave Master from a remote village of Gandillion. The actual slave master was recently apprehended in Watertest. After being interrogated for seven hours, the slave master finally told WIA about a slave trading post in Kanuckistan. Kyle didn’t like the idea of infiltrating a slave trading post with nothing more than an Uzi, a Beretta and his wits. He reminded himself that he didn’t make the rules, it was those lazy bastards on top of him that did. As the Yacht grew closer to the island Kyle began preparing for what was ahead. He hastily put on his bullet proof jacket and stuffed ammunition clips in his pockets. As the yacht touched the soft sand, Kyle checked each of his weapons and stepped out into the blaring sun with a briefcase. About 200 Meters away there was a huge building that seemed more like a theme park than a slave trading post. As he neared the building, the guard’s voice barked at him “Do you have the $250,000 it costs to enter?” Kyle said “Yes” and paid the guard. Kyle then opened the door into the slave trading post stepping into the unknown.

OOC:
Well, technicly it's nowhere near Kanuckistan, but in the middle of international waters.

I'll see if I can track down some interested parties.

ooc: as usual, if this isn't acceptable for your thread I'll delete the post and take off.
Also, this is a Melforlian ganster. He is wanted in Melforlo, and his actions can't be held against the Lawful and Just Melforlian government.

Calroe reclined back in his leather sofa, a girl young enough to be his daughter on each arm. He was in one of the Pirate coves, as these slave trade islands were becoming known.

It had been a stroke of luck for him, getting this position. 2 myears ago he'd been doing raids on (some angry nation? anyone interested :P), and now he was here in Jahas'bar. He had been delivering cargo to a Itrantian slave convoy, destined to who knows where, when a man had come up to him.

"Come up to my hotel room. i have something you might find... interesting."

Turned out the surprise was a .45 magnum. Carloe still can't figure out how the s.o.b. missed him... he got the gun and blew the other guys brains over the wall. Never even knew his name.

After that, people just kept giving him money, at least thats how it felt. A string of good luck, he got all the right connections in all the right places. It wasn't long before he had 3 teams picking up slaves for him while he reaped the profits without the risks.

It wasn't a hard decision when someone asked him if he wanted to sign in on the Jahas'bar deal. He got one eigth shares. Another 6 months, and he had killed, threatened or blackmailed into the palm of his hand.

He was just letting the good times roll.

Master Haemonculus Urien Rakarth stood upon the stool. He slowly carresed the screaming slave-with a knife-whilst listening to the sound of his "playthings" mutterings.

A servitor burst through the door. rien was about to shoot to pieces with his stinger until it started talking.
"The nation of Kanuckistan is hosting a trade of slaves.The Archite wishes you to go"The servitor said in his mechanical tones.

Urien stepped down from the stool and started walking to his transport.
Oh he would have fun at this conference, he would

Master Haemonculus Urien Rakarth stood upon the stool. He slowly carresed the screaming slave-with a knife-whilst listening to the sound of his "playthings" mutterings.

A servitor burst through the door. rien was about to shoot to pieces with his stinger until it started talking.
"The nation of Kanuckistan is hosting a trade of slaves.The Archite wishes you to go"The servitor said in his mechanical tones.

Urien stepped down from the stool and started walking to his transport.
Oh he would have fun at this conference, he would

ooc Kanuckistan has nothing to do with these slave islands.

hes simply the one who started the thread

It was deep into the dead watches of the night. Ragged clouds slithered across the moon, and a keening wind kept the sentries huddled behind the stockade walls. Nevertheless, the tardiness with which the ship was detected was abnormal. The seabed sonic detectors, at least, should have registered its approach.... yet there it was, of a sudden, sidling up to the jetty. Even had its sudden appearance not alarmed them, the guards would have been deeply unsettled by its appearance: perceivable only as a dark silhouette between the dully glimmering hulls of the emissaries' yachts loomed the anomalous lines of an ancient three-masted schooner - and a weathered one at that. The shadowy tatters of shredded sails dangled listlessly from the yardarms (....which, with the howling wind, was cause for further subconscious unrest.) No one stirred upon the deck.
Understandably, the nightwatch harbormaster was reluctant in his approach. Nevertheless, he found himself at the head of the jetty, nervous sweat spreading ice down his spine as the wind took it. The wharf-end sodium lights flickered strangely behind him, then dimmed to a bizarrely dim level. There was a long moment of uncomfortable stillness. Then a sudden creak caused him to start so badly he nearly pitched into the water. It was the ship's gangplank, lowering without any visible operator's assistance. It slammed with a sickening finality into the jetty, shaking the harbormaster on his heels.
At the head of the plank were two shaowy forms. The harbormaster strove to take them in.... but all he could make out at first were the singularly unrevealing outlines of heavy hooded cloaks.... and perhaps a glint of eyes..... a -crimson- glint?.... Then the two were descending the gangplank towards him, with a gliding gait that barely disturbed the hem of their robes.

"W-whose representatives shall I announce?" The harbormaster called quaveringly.
The shadows held their piece, drawing out the deliciously agonizing silence until they stood before the master at the plank's foot. He was by now quivering perceptibly.
" .....we serve ...... He who shall Return....." It was a cutting whisper, and seemingly came from both strangers in unison.
"-er, right. Your business, then, provided you have the r-requisite entry fee....?" He tried to sound breezy, yet knew when his voice broke that he had failed miserably.
A gaunt hand was extended over his own, and an object dropped. He caught it reflexively, then stumbled under an unexpected weight. Holding his fist up into the dim sodium light, he failed to suppress a double-take: he was holding a nugget of gold, larger than a man's fist! The spotty illumination made it difficult at best, but he thought he could pick out ribbons of carving on the mass' surface - some sort of hieroglyphics or pictograms, wrapping the rock in bands of alien signification.
"This.....this.... this ought to do it.... p-proceed!..." The harbormaster shambled aside, all pretense of dignity or control evaporated. The shapes drifted past.
It was only as the strange emissaries were well up the shore path that he thought to shout after them, "....WAIT!"
Movement ceased, and 2 heads swivelled in unison in his direction. He found himself transfixed.... ".....uh, uh, t-that is...... you're very welcome," ::shiver::, "b-but I'm afraid you've about missed this round of trading! There isn't much quality stock left!"
The whisper, though seemingly pitched no higher than before, reached him perfectly clearly. "That is not of consequence."
"Y-you don't understand!" He found himself yelling with near hysteria, and more directness than he'd ever even approached using before, "W-what's left, by the listings, I can't g-guarantee it's good for much more than the passage! You won't get much labor out've any of the lot!"
A crimson flare. The harbormaster blanched sheet-white.

"It is -you- who do not understand." The duosibilant whisper cut like a knife:
"Work is not required. And survival once the cargo reaches the Empire is not required."

The shapes continued on. The harbormaster, swooning, dropped to the planks....

He looked up from his desk. It was large, and covered in papers. He had been reading over the latest copy of Milkman’s Monthly, but his eye had been caught by a flyer. He snapped his fingers, and an imp popped into existence.
“Chitter!” said the Imp.
“Yeah, Morning. Menk, I need to see Sethric. Clear? Well, get on it,” said the man.
“CHITTER!” said the Imp.
The Imp vanished with a -pop-, and in exactly three minutes, three seconds, returned with another sentient. This new man was shorter than the first, his skin was black as ebony, his hair white as a spider’s web. Sethric Velisar was no spider-lover though, if anything, the rogue drow hated the damned things with a passion.

His new boss didn’t care whatsoever. No, Ronald Soak, First Prime of the Impworld, Fifth Rider of the Apocalypse, Chaos Incarnate, and all around good guy, most certainly didn’t care. Ronnie handed Sethric the note he’d eyed, and the rogue’s eyes flickered as he read over it. He looked up, as he finished reading, and raised an eyebrow.
“Well, boss, if you’re gonna go, I’ll go with you. No problem there,” said Velisar.
Soak nodded, “Well, guess we better get ready then. Now where did I put that helmet…ah, here we are.”

Ronald set the helmet ontop of his desk, then went to retrieve his sword from the refrigerator. The blade was beyond cold, the kind of cold that had only existed before nothing else existed. So cold, that everything since just seemed to be…luke warm.

Soak sheathed his blade, and sorted out the rest of his gear. You see, he had -been- Kaos. Now he was Kaos with sleeked back hair, a winning smile, and a fancy suit. He was Kaos for the modern age. He was Chaos.

Chaos pulled on his helmet, and Velisar followed the glowing personification to Chaos’ chariot. Sethric helped hitch Chaos’ massive horse to the Chariot, and then climbed up into the thing with his boss. Chaos gave the reins a mighty shake, and the horse snorted flames as it pulled the chariot from the barn.

They rode up into the sky, looking down over the scorched and cracks grounds of the Impworld. There was the massive barracks that housed the legions of minions, and there were the sulfur pits, where the imps worked under the cruel whips of their overseers.

They cut through the dimensional rift without effort, and found themselves over a small island, the one listed as the address on the note, which was currently digesting in Menk the Imp’s stomach.

The chariot shot sparks as it landed, the mighty horse shot flames. Chaos hopped from the chariot, and the lithe Drow followed suit with a dramatic back flip. Sethric was one of those people who always did the dramatic thing. He was a show off, and he knew it. Chaos was of the mind that the Drow could do whatever he liked.

After all, there were a few perks to being Chaos’ Right-Hand Elf. One of them, was going on these little business trips. The Drow rested one long-fingered hand on the pommel of the sabre hanging from the right side of his belt, and followed Chaos as he wandered onto the island.

Sethric watched as Chaos flung a briefcase at an approaching guard with a smooth offhand toss. The guard checked the contents, five-hundred-thousand in gold, and nodded the pair off. Sethric stayed close to his glowing boss. Oh yeah, being Chaos’ Exec definitely had its benefits. And if he got to have a little fun while he did it, well, all the better. Yessir. When Lord Stark, which one, he couldn’t remember, but it was one of them, suggested he go work for Soak, well, it was the best that had happened to the Rogue since he’d arrived in the rim. Yup. The boss and him, they were tight.

They were also, very good at what they did.

Carloe was standing, looking over the shoulder of a security guard at a video screen, one of a dozen on the wall. A ship had just come in, unlike anything he'd ever seen before. A gangplank lowered onto the dock, his dock, and the harbormaster ran up. A minute later, he was holding something, and bowing, allowing something to pass. Thing was, he couldn't see what the thing was.

"Get a squad down there, find out what the hell is going on. The slaves are all sold, but I don't want anything to happen to my buyers and sellers." Carloe was anxious. This was new and unexpected. He hated new and unexpected things. There had been too many of late.

Urien looked out onto the bridge. His temporary hiring out to the Dimmimarans had been annoying. Sometimes he just had to question the mind of his deluded ruler.
Ah yes we have arrived

And he stepped of the landing platform, whilst his bodyguard herded the slaves off...

OOC: Noboby seems to read the opening posts anymore, do they? :cry:

Yer just suposed to arrange slave trades here, not bring the merchandice(tho I supose the mercs, being, well, mercs, could be easily bribed to allow otherwise).

The point was to have a setup anti-slavers couldn't 'bust' even if they found out about it, 'cause there's nothing but paperwork and pictures/holograms brought by you folks that could be quickly thrown onto an onhand plasma-arc furnace and destroyed.

But, do what ya want; I wanted to foster RP, so it's all good, even if you are hijacking my thread :P

Famous fatbottomed spokeswoman: Don't get us started on slavery.

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Kûk‡xenisi n!ok‡x'osi xno-k‡xek‡emi.-The state only exists to serve itself.
"Oppose excessive military spending, yet believe in excessive spending on junk food and plastic surgery to make all your women look like LARDASSES!"-Sino, when I criticized excessive military spending.
http://www.sulucas.com/images/steatopygia.jpg
I'm male. Note the pic of attractive women.

Two men are sitting around a table in a dark Central Facehuggerian appartment

"As you know Popov, the Premier has somewhat 'exotic' tastes when it comes to lovers. I'm sure you have heard the stories of the harems?"
"Da. I have heard them. Supposedly, the Premier keeps large numbers of nubile females enslaved, so that he can live out his sick and perverted fantasies. I understand that his love for rare and dangerous animals is somehow related to this."
"Yes. The Premier is always looking for...fresh meat. It has recently come to my attention that there is a 'slave meet' of sorts going on on a small island. Now, I don't know if there is any truth to these rumors, after all, most of this is 'friend-from-a-friend' stuff. But it could deserve a look. And it would help earn the Premier's favor. For both of us."
"What's the pay?"
"3 Million Facehuggers."
"Whew... That is a lot of cash. Is there something you aren't telling me?"
"You know how hard it is to get slaves, what with all the damned human rights activists attacking these honest businesses!"
"Any particular kind of slave?"
"Attractive female slaves. Virgins if possible."
"Da. What are my resources for this mission?"
"You will be provided with 50 million Facehuggers (roughly 50 mil USD at current inflation rates) to buy as many slaves as possible. You will transport them on the CFS Wall Cloud, an old, decomisioned freighter." (With plenty of passenger rooms.)
"You will also be equipped with a small military team armed to the teeth with the latest CF (future tech) gear, should something go wrong."
"Yes, Alexei, I will depart at once."

Popov went to the seaport and took his trip to the misty island... "Hopefully, I'll be able to get some slaves for myself" he thought.

OOC: BUMP

IC: "Sir, we are here. We're moving to the docks now. There appears to be a welcoming committe."

"Excellent. Tell them that I have come to do business..."

Carloe stood in the cold, watching as a crowd of soldiers walked towards him. He hated doing this in person; much too risky. But it wasn't everyday that someone with this much cash showed up.

"Greetings, sirs. I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave your weapons here. Aside from that, please, follow me. I will set you up in quarters for the night, and perhaps in the morrow you'd like to peruse our.... catalogues?"

Bowing, he steps aside, flourishing his goldthreaded coat, in the Melforlian style. There are men with weapons trained on the group from the shadows, waiting for you to disarm.

OOC: If that wasn't directed towards me, I'll just delete this post.


IC: "Men, put down your weapons." Popov put down his rifle and said "I see that I've come to the right place. I would very much like to see your catalogues. Lead on."

Carloe leads the procession deep into the cavern of the island. He walks into a greatroom, along the walls are holograms of nubile ladies dancing. There are catalogues on the table, and everywhere people are partying. Booze and drugs are in the plenty.

"Make yourselves at home. Drinks are on the house tonight. Look around, you can get yourselves pretty much whatever you want here."

Popov walked up to the large and well stocked bar. "I'll have a Vodka, on the rocks." The bartender handed him an exquisite glass filled with high quality vodka. "Thank you."

Popov then looked at the 'catalogues' and began choosing what peices of merchandise would suit his purposes...

OOC: I'll post more later.

"Ahh yes, It appears that these will do nicely." Popov was pointing to several pictures of attractive females.

"How do I go about arranging a purchase?

"And, I have another...request. Do you have any female elf slaves?"

OOC: I'm going to develope a story here with Popov, so try not to kill him off, please?