"Sold! To the purple-blood nobility in the 2nd row!" called the nicely dressed, long-horned troll. Unleashed, uncuffed, and unbound, a blue-blood lumbered down the steps to meet his master. The highblood was only a level above his slave's caste; which was a rare sight. Surely, a hefty price was paid - though, it was worth it. The said slave was younger than many on the walk, and already he was stronger than three oxes. He was seated, and the chains were tugged to bring a new group of boys. After only three seconds, people gasped and wove boonbucks in the air. Some were wildly jumping in the front row, the animals.

"Now, now. I know you're excited, but please settle down." the caller calmed. He gracefully moved his hand to present another young troll. "I see you're all curious about this one. Let me present to you his features and a bit of his background. This boy's pre-adult name is Mituna Captor. His master may rename him upon buying the rights. He is five-sweeps-old, ninety-nine pounds, and has had a pre-existing case of brain trauma. As you all have already caught on, he is a psiioniic. Probably among one of the last - they're highly endangered. His teeth are well taken care of, and his fangs are sharp as daggers. He is five-foot four, and his exquisite, rare double horns are three inches for the small and six for the tall. Oh, and he is a virgin. He is in very good shape, besides his weight. That should be an easy fix, right?" He smiled, preparing his cards for his background. The currently advertised troll was adorning only baggy brown pants. Well, that and an assortment of chains. He cried proud yellow tears, looking among the crowd - they were almost drooling, snagging and clenching all of the heavy bucks they own. All just to use him as a tool.

"Alright! You see, little Mituna here lived alone in his hive with his lusus, a biclops..."

He ran to the roof with blood padding down his short black hair. Some of it had already caked, as he spent a long time crying over it in the forbidden green field. He had crashed into a tree head-on while riding his skateboard. He was driven out by multiple beasts who had smelled his low blood. "Biclops! Biclops!" he wailed, burying his fluffed, unhelmeted hair into his lusus' chest. It wasn't very hard to spot the bright liquid on his head. Mituna was comforted as Biclops washed it away.

"I was near the Condescension's place." He frowned. Naturally, he was admitting of many things he did. Though, he knew not to go to Sassacre's memorial place, as the empress guarded it tightly with vicious lusii. It was easy to spot the boundaries; it was the only domain on Beforus that had lush, green, earthly grass.

Soon enough, the lusii had led a search group to Mituna's hive. Shocked to see a psiioniic, they tore him from the safety of a new fierce biclops. Mituna kicked and cried, grabbing for his 'dad.' Some non-supporting columns were thrown almost impeccably close to the hunters. But they were gone. This fate is inevitable for any psiioniic.

No one ever seemed to give much care when it came to a troll's harsh history. They simply conjured the sleepiest of faces during those times. "Questions?" the caller inquired, surveying the packed room for hands. The same purple-blood who had just bought the last slave nodded, saying, "Why does he have all of those scars? Some of them are fresh." This was an important question indeed. It was typical for rebellious ones to be whipped. Even if this particular boy looked meek and helpless, people know not to judge a book by its cover. "Ah, that. Well, he was screaming and flailing for his lusus all the way here. Just some transportation mishaps, Highblood." he assured. The market really raises for an obedient troll - and an obedient psiioniic made the crowd crazy. "I see we're ready for bidding, then! Let's start him off at one-hundred boonbucks."

"100." started the Highblood.

"100, do I hear 150? 150, anyone, 150 for this fine troll?"

"150!" called a cerulean lady of the higher classes.

"200-!"

"500!" roared the Highblood.

"600!" retorted the cerulean.

"15,000,000 boonbucks."

Everyone looked to the back of the room, and with a start, they stood. Small taps of a trident echoed down the aisle. "E-Empress!" The caller kneeled, as did all of the others. "Give me that troll," she demanded, throwing copious amounts of Beforus currency onto the stand from her Sylladex. Mituna cast his glance over to her, tears still welled in his eyes. He inhaled sharply, slightly flexing his skinny chest. Her stare was piercing.

Mituna was released and led over to the Condesce. She examined each and every one of his physical attributes before leaving. He was escorted by a leather leash to a spaceship, marked noticeably with the Crocker Corp. symbol. It was fuming with black composites that stained the air. It was clear that the empress was wealthy, but the ship was in such bad shape. "C'mon, lowblood - you're gonna be my power source for quite a while. That stupid Handmaid ran my baby all across space, so it's outta gas." she explained. The Condesce's accent wasn't at all royal; rather, it was quick and slurred together. Everything she uttered sounded like a complaint. She placed her hand on the pink outer shell of 'her baby.'

Mituna was freed of his collar once the door closed, and Condesce brought him to a cord-like stretcher surrounded by self-managing supercomputers. "Alright, into position." she commanded. Mituna, confused and frightened, stepped into the open device. "We should name you. You look adult enough." She pressed a small button on the keyboard and the stretcher came alive, wiring itself around the yellow-blood's arms and legs. Eventually, it stopped at his torso - a helmet-like set of cords enveloping his face, besides his orifices. The chain of cords wrapped tightly around the light yellow set of six triangles along his sides (this is where his legs had fallen off as a wiggler). All of this new feeling brought him to suffering screams. The device was beginning to pull his arms higher while his feet were pasted to the floor of the ship. "We'll name you The Helmsman."