4″The slavers who have captured you are a nasty sort. You can’t see them through the dark fabric over your eyes, but you can smell them. The sour stench of sweat and alcohol lingers like smoke as you are forced forward. You can’t work the blindfold off until they have forced you onto the hard wood of one of their wagons. When you do so, you see a man, presumably a slave, splayed out casually on the floor. He smiles at you. Oh, and here I was getting lonely. Welcome.
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