Covenent Gathering Chamber

Osseus too was uninterested in slaves as art or playthings. Slaves were tools, utensils, each for its purpose, or else could be thought of, which Osseus found quite pleasing, as cogs and coiled springs interlocked in the mechanism of the great machine of Airedale Manor. It looked into the eyes of the “man” whose skin it wore, noting the flayed creature's expression of agony. No doubt it amused Lord Aleister, and therefore that particular slave served its purpose. “Yes,” it replied, musingly, as Aleister complimented the skeleton on suiting the skin better than its original owner. It began to feel a certain dissatisfaction with the skin, it's shoulder's hunched a little and it scratched absently with its ill-clad fingers the flesh of its other arm. No, this one was no good. Not right at all.

Osseus looked over with great interest as Lady Chataya brought out her selection of new slaves. It took a quick pass down the line, noting the features of the twelve and mentally sorting them into which would be useful, and for what. The skeleton walked up to the man who Chataya had introduced as a sort of linguist. Useful for entertaining the occasional foreign guest. It took a hold of the man's jaw firmly, forcing him to open his mouth, and looked inside, examining the teeth. It then took a general check of the slave's state of health, as much as was possible by eye. “If it's healthy, I'll take it. But it needs further examination.” As visibly scared as some of the slaves were of being manhandled by a glowing eyed skeleton, they had little inkling that being chosen by Osseus as a potential slave of the household was one of the least worst things that could happen to them. Osseus did not care for a slave's state of mind one way or another as long as they were able to perform their assigned functions, and while punishments were suitably harsh for those who took their time in learning not to make errors, the slaves generally weren't tortured or had sadistic whims enacted upon them, in order to keep them sufficiently mentally healthy to enact their duties. The only exceptions being those kept for the amusement of the manor's occupants and their guests, who did not all share Osseus' love for efficiency above all things. The skeleton's eyes slid to the pregnant elf. “Perhaps the offsrping will be of use. I would be pleased if you would give me first refusal once you have raised it to a sufficient age,” It said to Chataya. “I fear the female will be of little use as a whore once the young has been whelped. The process mars the body rather, inside and out.” It ran a hand over the skin of its chest, feeling the coils of hair that stood out on it. “The skin … is often ruined with unsightly marks. There's a likelihood this female may not survive the birth – I prefer the slaves I buy for the household to have at least a few years use in them.” There was a tone to its voice that suggested it disapproved of Chataya even bringing a slave with such a short shelf-life to its and Lady Lucile's attention.

It stopped also before a dark haired woman, a human. Roughly it's own height, the skeleton judged. The woman's cheekbones were strong, her skin an earthy red-brown and, when the skeleton touched it, velvety soft. It found the way the hip bones jutted to the surface pleasing. Yes, her skin … was … quite pleasing, quite … interesting. It turned her, surveying her front and back, her sides. “This one I will take for my personal use,” it said to Lady Chataya. Osseus did not talk money at the dinner table. Chataya would bill it for the slaves it chose, and it would pay, all behind the scenes and without quibble. Osseus always found her prices quite reasonable.

Once it was through with the woman it chose for itself, Osseus saw Aleister motioning towards it, and stepped back with a small bow to Lucile and Chataya, to see to Lord Aleister's wishes. “My ladies, I shall return presently,” it said, before letting the two ladies continue their negotiations. It lowered its head to be close to Aleister's, hands clasped behind its back, ready to receive his whims. “The guest rooms are already prepared, my lord, in case of such an eventuality. Your wish is my very command, while you are under this roof,” Osseus's flaming blue eyes smouldered at Lord Aleister as he commanded it's personal attention. Having Lord Aleister look at it in such a way filled Osseus with a deep pleasure like no other. To be regarded as a desirable being was not something it had experienced before Lord Aleister, and the skins seemed only to heighten Aleister's enjoyment. It was part of what made Osseus feel like a real person, not merely a walking pile of bones. “I'll confess, Lord Aleister, I don't believe this skin is 'the One', however, if it pleases you I shall wear it tonight for you alone. Without the cloak.”

Lucile watched with a twisted amusement as the pregnant woman squatted and presented her intimacy for the lords and ladies of the table to see - a few of them muttering and chuckling. But she wasn't quite done - a subtle gesture of her free hand on Bruno's side of the chair was all she did, and the male leered over at the clear invitation.

Presuming Chataya hadn't anticipated this or made a quick enough move to stop him, the man made animal would tear across the floor in a sudden motion - surprisingly fluid on all fours after being confined to that way for some time - and crash into the poor woman. There would be several barks of laughter and words of entertainment from the spectators as Bruno took it upon himself to take her down to a very similar position to his own and mount her like a mad dog in heat.

It seemed there was quite a bit of cruelty known amongst those of authority, as the slaves watching and Primrose would find out.

"I daresay, you may be right!" the High Lady would add through her laughter, sitting up in her chair a little more properly to indulge a little more heartily in her meal. "She might be a good little bed mate. Alas, I have no need for a third."

Despite her words, and if not stopped, Bruno wouldn't care and continue his perverted act.

Aleister watched as Lucile's pet was having at the pregnant human slave. This elicited laughs and jeers from the other attendees, but Aleister simply sat and watched with a strange smile on his face. It was entertaining, of course, but he found it hard to be as engaged in the activity as some of the others were, especially with Osseus on his mind. For a being who's depravity seemingly knew no bounds, the simple act of one human mating with another couldn't help but fall flat in many ways - they weren't even dead. Aleister had difficulty seeing living humans as useful for his own purposes, and in most cases viewed them as if they weren't even born yet. The living lacked a certain quality Aleister wasn't entirely sure he could articulate; a quality that could only be obtained by touching the other side.

Nonetheless, Aleister didn't begrudge anyone around him having their good time. He certainly had every intention of having his own later - in the private company of Osseus.

"The beauty of your search is having so many different skins to admire you in; no two entirely alike. I am certain any skin you choose to wear will be more pleasing than the last." the necromancer continued to converse with Osseus below the laughter of the crowd.

"But I don't mind you knowing that I particularly enjoy the skins with a little something more to hold on to around the hips."

After the crowd had been able to get their laughs of, Chataya took a hold of her whip once again and gave a small flick so it would land on the back of Bruno. It wouldn't be enough to leave any marks on him, after all Bruno wasn't her to dicipline, but it should be enough to let him know that he was no longer welcome to go at the pregnant slave.

"You certainly don't need one, my Dear. After all you already required a pretty thing today." she gave Lucile a warm smile. She would make a gesture with her hands to the ogres that were in the room and they would soon come closer to get the pregnant female to her feet. After that all the slaves that hadn't been chosen for the covenent would be marched back towards the slave facility.

Once the door had closed behind them, Chataya would take her place among the table and plot a little bit of food in her mouth. "So now that we have decided on this matter, are there other things that need our attention?"

"This conversation continuing much further will almost certainly take on the look of impropriety. I do, however, look forward to continuing it in the privacy of my room later. I am certain anything you decide to wear will be most pleasing - it always is." Aleister said to Osseus with a sly smile.

There was probably only a handful of people present that didn't know what the pair got up to in their private time alone together - certainly Chataya and Lucile at any rate - but of course the appearance must be upheld. In truth, nearly all of the aristocracy had their own set personal quirks, just as Aleister and Osseus did.

It was only the mention of the human resistance that snapped Aleister out of the lustful fog, centered on Osseus, that had settled on his mind. He turned to address Lucile and answer her question.

"High Lady, one of my seers at the spire managed to give us the location of a pocket of the human resistance in Stathmore. I allowed for a party with a few of my creations to raid the hole the little parasites had dug for themselves. The mage that took control of one of my newest creations overestimated her ability to control the creature, and none of the cattle or the thieves that took them survived. Thirty-eight bodies in total were returned to the spire, some of them human and some not - it is still unclear exactly how much information we will be able to glean from the dead, but I expect we should be able to find at least a few more holes to plug."

Aleister reported the news of the rebellion to Lucile quickly and concisely. She had asked a direct question and would, of course, receive a direct answer. The necromancer took a moment to sip a bit of the hot gray liquid (his drink of choice) in the tea cup he'd been served.

"It is unfortunate that none of the perpetrators of this little temper tantrum survived, but sadly we are dealing with such frail creatures. As an interesting side note, the mage also died in the attempt to bring my creation under her control again. Poor thing."

Given that Aleister had provided life to the undoubtedly brutish and grotesque creature responsible for ripping through the pocket of human resistance, in all likelihood he'd allowed the mage to die at the creature's hand. There was a price to be paid for failure, and invariably Aleister levied a horrible tax against the underlings that found themselves unable to raise to the occasion.

Aleister quickly scoffed at his sibling, almost cutting her off, and certainly heading off any response anyone else might have immediately had to her statement.

"How droll, dear Chataya." he said, indicating his dry amusement at her weak stab at his own handling of the situation. Aleister knew his sister to be cunning, smart, manipulative, and nearly entirely devoid of compassion - she could have done better. Aleister turned his attention back to Lucile.

"Lucile I must ask you to forgive my little sister, she forgets that my work is not so simple as breaking a few weak-minded cattle. She also manages to forget that I am occasionally in the habit of bringing the cattle back to this world once they manage to shuffle off of our mortal coil. This, takes time - and my work doesn't produce beings with the capacity to lie to me."

Aleister looked over the spread of strange and exotic foods as he passive-aggressively criticized his sister, contemplating on what to politely nibble on next.

"I only say so to contrast my method of information extraction against that of Lady Chataya, which given how fragile humans are can yield some less than reliable results - all the way up until she beats them to death." he chose a small round of cheese topped with a tiny bit of green paste, and put it on his plate.

"Of course I wouldn't put it by her to try beating answers out of the dead as well."

Even though the conversation had moved on, Prim had not entirely recovered from what she had seen with Bruno and the pregnant slave. She no longer felt able to relax into Lucile her lap and instead kept her eyes on the dog-like slave, making sure to move away if he even came a little bit closer to her. It took so much of her concentration that the conversation happening above the table was completely lost to her.

It was only when the goblet was lifted towards her that her concentration towards Bruno was broken. She would look up and back to the goblet for just a second before she would take it and check what was inside of it. When she saw it was just water she started to gulp it down as if she hadn't drunk anything in a long while. The water would leak from beside the glass in her eagerness and float down past her cheeks to her chin, where it dripped down into the floor. It would only take a few seconds for the goblet to empty in just a single chuck.

Lucile watched as her lovely little doll emptied the glass in haste - poor thing. She would reach to take it when it was empty. "There, there, slow down," she would coo, bringing it to rest on the table again - despite a couple of distasteful looks from others at the table.

Her attention would return to the conversation at hand. "Osseus, I should hope that it doesn't breach this household, either. Should it do so, however, I would hope that we squash it quickly. Seize any that are acting out or seeming to conspire. We will hold them in the cells in the basement for Chataya to come and take - and between her and her brother I'm sure they will get the information we seek out of them.

"I have a... a slight suspicion that there might be safe houses within the city. Above ground - I can't imagine there would be any around the Scourge underground. After all, how crazy would it be to try and hold a save haven for humans near or around our beloved Warden's prisons? Hmm?" She would chuckle slightly, echoed with a few of the other dinner guests.

Aleister couldn’t stifle a chuckle at the idea of the human resistance making their way to the manor.

“Armed human rebellion here at the manor? If only we were so lucky. Then we could snuff the pathetic bugs out all at once instead of having to burn them out of the holes they hide in. Let us pray they are capable of that level of stupidity.”

Aleister took one of the beautifully formed and decorated hors d'oeuvres that Osseus offered him on the silver platter.

“But, perhaps I’m giving the cattle too much credit in assuming they won’t attack us directly. In my experience humans seem to have a nearly boundless capacity for unbridled stupidity, but I assure you we could lay low an army of humans before the first one of them even made it to the door of the manor.”

The necromancer listened as his sister put together a plan for letting one of the humans go, and having the hounds track them to wherever they might be hiding. She looked rather pleased with herself, and as much as the two of them might constantly be at each other’s throats, they’d spent the last three centuries learning that one of them could not be without the other.

He nodded. “Let one of them go, and the rat might very well scurry right to one of the holes their compatriots have chewed in the wall. The plan is beautiful in its simplicity, and all things considered very low risk on our end. The absolute worst that happens is we lose one of the cattle, which is a pittance when compared to finding an above ground safe house here in Airedale.”

Aleister nibbled the bit of ham he’d taken from Osseus.

“Also if there is a safe house somewhere in Stathmore, that means the slaves are being aided by non-humans. I’m sure our Warden would like to have a chat with them. What a shame if one of the residents that enjoy our protection here in the north would choose to repay us in this way.”