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"That makes alot of sence my friend..." he said nodding "They'll trust a fellow local more..." He looked at the girl for a second, deep in thought.

"Oh look, she provide entertainment as well" He laughed "Oh well, cmon then lets go" he said the rama

Brennin cocked an eyebrow at the two odd men, and growled a little. he was curious, and looked over to Aila. with a huff, he picked up the gag and looked at it, then back at aila, and tossed the gag to the table.

"yer lucky, ye know tha'? i think i'll make ye not fer sale n'more. i'ma keep ye fer meself. ye've got some use afferall, leastways more use'n any o'these ol' messes..."

he walked over to her, and reached out a hand, too high for her to snap at, and paused, his hand hovering over her. he hesitated, not sure whether he wanted to smck her, or for once in his life be tender. she'd make a decent dog, he thought.

"if'n ye bite me yer gon' get smacked. if'n ye trus' me, i'll be nice to ye. ahrigh'?" he asked, then lowered his hand to pet her mangy flea-bitten head.

Rama's previous host body lay still the hair changed to normal and the robes to dust. The man it had possesed was starved and feeble than when it was first possesed. The mask remained still for a few moment till it was placed under Sasori's cloak "By the abyss that hurt!!! And what do you keep under this cloak? It smells like an ill mule!!"

Rama's mask shuddered slightly "We may just be a mask but we are not restricted by the laws of anatomy..." It's tone showed it annoyance in Sasori "Now we should get a move on. We despise being like this and don't think about putting me on something stupid for fun..."

Aila quivered with relief at seeing the two men leave. The scent of them lingered; the wheedling wrongness tainting the air. But hopefully it would fade. But so wrapped up was she in their departure that she missed the approach of the slaver. His sudden appearance to her side, looming and meaningfully familiar startled a whimpering yelp from her. His outstretched hand, irrevocably associated with physical punishment, caused her to flinch. She buried her wrapped up hands into her mangy knots of hair, cowering from his movements.

It was queer that pain had not already blossomed here and there. The man was a hardened, seasoned slave trader, and he was generous with his beatings, always quicker than his large form would suggest. That her ears weren't ringing from being boxed in was... queer.

Her singular eye rolled manically in its socket, finally finding the towering figure of Brennin. She made a small sound in her throat, probably an affirmative, and sat with the frozen stillness of someone scared out of action.

Madness had very likely rotted her brain long ago, even if Aila refused to admit it, but base instincts of survival and self-preservation had honed her to pick up lessons quickly.

Lesson one: when given a choice of whether to get a beating or not, choose not. Especially when the beatings are doled out by an ex-blacksmith with barrels for arms.

Zariira stepped out onto the streets of Shadowsun, locking the large doors to the now empty storage space of the now deceased Shi`nna Do'tlar. Zariira had enjoyed adding that title to the woman's long list of them. Her family and her screams for mercy had been music.
I almost wish I could have done it again. She gave herself a mental slap,Do not be foolish. A voice that sound eerily like her Lady's resonated in her head.
Even without a head, some animals will attempt to attack you. Complete then task and then go on a sacrifice spree.
With a sigh of sadness she leaned against the now shut door to peer at the riders ahead of her.
She nodded to one, "You know what to do, now. Make sure you remember who owns your collar."
"Yes, Ma'ma." They chored before riding off. She look out at them with a smile. And then she gave another heavy sigh, snatched the reins from waiting hands and looks back at the wagon train behind her. "Let go!" She bark and lead the train toward one of the exit from the trading port towards the first trade center.