Felih listens, ears up and attentive, and then he nods. She truly is a wanderer- a soul that understands his own, and there is an admiration shining in his eyes as he lowers his ears in deference and bows his head. "You view the world much the same way I do," he says quietly. "It... it's refreshing, to hear someone else share the sentiments. Most here are content to settle, to stay in one place and never stray from safety, but I feel... I feel as if it's a loss, not to see what the world has to offer while you still can."
But now, they are well away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, and so, he starts to explain his tale.
"There is... a man, a Highlander named Baldric Hightalon, in Ul'dah. A merchant, and he makes much coin in trade of his many wares- but for those who are less scrupulous, he has... other product," Felih explains, and he's bristling, nearly hissing. "People. He captures them, tricks them, drugs them- the low and downtrodden, the lost, the vulnerable- those who cannot defend themselves, those who have nowhere to go, and no one who would notice them gone. Those he does not sell to bidders, he strips of all they have and makes slaves of them elsewhere."
"He's gone and taken these folk- young men and women- and made a pleasure den in the back alleys of the city, deep where only those who stray for such services can find it. 'Tis a popular den, though very few know of its true nature; from the view of an outsider or a patron, the den seems like any other, where the workers all work of their own accord, and have chosen this life. But the truth remains that all of them are bound and owned by a man who could kill them if they disobeyed." He's growling, he can't help himself- but even with the bottled rage, he's still shaking visibly, a deeply instilled terror in his veins.
"He used me, too. Hurt me, just like the others. And on one of the nights he took me home to his manor- as he sometimes did, with those of us he wanted to toy with- and I... I just couldn't take it any longer. While he slept, I escaped my bindings and I set fire to the place," he says. "All his 'contracts'- his deeds of ownership and claim over the den, the land it's on, every person he forced to work there- consumed by the flames. One of his most lucrative businesses is now beyond his grasp, but he survived the flames and he has hunted me since for the riches it has cost him. If I were to step back into Ul'dah..."
His ears pin back as he shakes his head. "...I've had someone from the den keep an eye on things. Those who were trapped have fled to make better lives for themselves, and those who would rather continue the work now do so on their own terms, of their own volition, and keep their own coin. Baldric cannot touch them now- they've hired guards to protect them now that they can use their own earnings as they please, but I know he still waits for the opportunity to take control again- or worse, begin anew elsewhere with new folk he's trapped and lured..."
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Felih listens, ears up and attentive, and then he nods. She truly is a wanderer- a soul that understands his own, and there is an admiration shining in his eyes as he lowers his ears in deference and bows his head. "You view the world much the same way I do," he says quietly. "It... it's refreshing, to hear someone else share the sentiments. Most here are content to settle, to stay in one place and never stray from safety, but I feel... I feel as if it's a loss, not to see what the world has to offer while you still can."
But now, they are well away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears, and so, he starts to explain his tale.
"There is... a man, a Highlander named Baldric Hightalon, in Ul'dah. A merchant, and he makes much coin in trade of his many wares- but for those who are less scrupulous, he has... other product," Felih explains, and he's bristling, nearly hissing. "People. He captures them, tricks them, drugs them- the low and downtrodden, the lost, the vulnerable- those who cannot defend themselves, those who have nowhere to go, and no one who would notice them gone. Those he does not sell to bidders, he strips of all they have and makes slaves of them elsewhere."
"He's gone and taken these folk- young men and women- and made a pleasure den in the back alleys of the city, deep where only those who stray for such services can find it. 'Tis a popular den, though very few know of its true nature; from the view of an outsider or a patron, the den seems like any other, where the workers all work of their own accord, and have chosen this life. But the truth remains that all of them are bound and owned by a man who could kill them if they disobeyed." He's growling, he can't help himself- but even with the bottled rage, he's still shaking visibly, a deeply instilled terror in his veins.
"He used me, too. Hurt me, just like the others. And on one of the nights he took me home to his manor- as he sometimes did, with those of us he wanted to toy with- and I... I just couldn't take it any longer. While he slept, I escaped my bindings and I set fire to the place," he says. "All his 'contracts'- his deeds of ownership and claim over the den, the land it's on, every person he forced to work there- consumed by the flames. One of his most lucrative businesses is now beyond his grasp, but he survived the flames and he has hunted me since for the riches it has cost him. If I were to step back into Ul'dah..."
His ears pin back as he shakes his head. "...I've had someone from the den keep an eye on things. Those who were trapped have fled to make better lives for themselves, and those who would rather continue the work now do so on their own terms, of their own volition, and keep their own coin. Baldric cannot touch them now- they've hired guards to protect them now that they can use their own earnings as they please, but I know he still waits for the opportunity to take control again- or worse, begin anew elsewhere with new folk he's trapped and lured..."