Are You Poor or Rich? (always opened)

In this future Earth, there are new ways. The question is, where do you stand? It has been decreed by the ruler of this land that all those have no money will be sold as property. You can run, you can hide, but the security of the land will find you. Who do you belong to? Those who can afford to buy you. The prices are extremely high, only the rich have, as they are called, poor-lives, or poor-workers.
Those who have money are REALLY rich! They can afford any price.
Unless already bought the first scene in this ropleplay will be an auction for the poor-workers.
You can only be a poor-worker or an owner. I have witnessed threads get over run with one type of character so I will, for now, accept four of each kind. After that then it must be even unless give you permission.

Rules
°rules of the site
°have fun!

forums
owners

name:
age:
gender:
appearance: (detailed description or URL)
poor-workers owned: ( if you own any)
poor-workers your interested in-(these are those you might buy)
other:

poor-workers

name:
age:
gender:
appearance: (detailed description or url)

Owners and their Poor-workers (will be updated all the time)

Un-owned Poor-workers
Cassandra (me)


My forum.
Name: Cassandra
age: 18
gender:female
appearance: http://image.blingee.com/images17/content/output/000/000/000/5f0/520404542_1964081.gif

All accepted, wow. do you want to wait or start?

(can't resist)

name: Dahlia Rector
age: 23
gender: female
appearance:

poor-workers owned: Lea Talmer
poor-workers your interested in:
other: Couldn't fid a really good picture; her hair is a bit shorter.

name: Lea Talmer
age: 8
gender: female
appearance:

Name: Jack Ike
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Appearance: Caucasian, Six foot eight, White ruffled hair. Usually has a stern, glaring emotion upon his face, almost always is seen wearing a trenchcoat with it's collar up and a fedora, giving him a very sinister appearance, especially when he is wearing combat boots, which he always stomps when wearing. Weather or not he is conscious of this is unknown. Is always seen wearing sunglasses, even inside or in dark environments.
Poor-workers owned: None.
Poor-workers interested in: Glen, Sheba, Cassandra, Lea, pretty much anyone up for sale.
Other: Jack is most likely both the youngest, and also the tallest of the rich-people. He doesn't own any poor-workers yet, as he hasn't had a need to until now; he previously lived with his parents, who are now deceased, and he inherited everything they had, which includes the seemingly infinite supply of money he dishes out when he wants something. He is very difficult to deal with during an auction, as he always tops the previous price, and due to his amount of money, he has no need for other material objects. Surprisingly, nothing about the way he acts is known.

Accepted. should we wait or atart?

Wait! Before we start, Wings (you name makes me hungry..), could you specify some things? Just so we know what kind of ground these characters are standing on.

X. What kind of clothes are expected based on gender and social class?
X. How advanced is the technology?
X. What season is it (if there are seasons)?
X. What is the climate like, biome, etc.?

I think those questions should be a group decision, any ideas?

I'd say just go with modern clothing and technology.
For the seasons, why not autumn?
Since this is being set in a suburban area, the biome would technically be Industrial, but perhaps it could've originally been a rainforest; fairly humid, but can get quite cool in the afternoon and at night.

I like the climate idea. So what country? Central Africa, anyone?

It would also be useful to figure out where the wealthy live in relation to eachother.

Australia. I can't be sure, but I'm pretty sure it's got the largest variant of biomes out there. (Scorching desert to freezing alpines) but then again, the seasons would be irrelevant then: It's either sun or rain. Maybe somewhere up in Europe, like England?
If they were proper rich people, there would probably be an entire street of mansions pretty much everywhere. But there might be the humble few who live in properly sized homes

I think we should have, like, a United Kingdom city or something like that. Though my characters would be living in a countryside home [with a lot of land]. And I agree with the season autumn. As for the clothes... perhaps anyone could be allowed to wear anything?

You know what, perhaps it would be easiest to have the auction start in London, then see where we go from there. I really want to start RP'ing like, now XD

It sounds alright to me.

Sounds good. LET'S START!!!!!!

Cassandra sat on the stage. She was so sad. She wore and looked like she did in the picture I posted. Her eyes followed everyone that walked infringing if her. She knew that this was the end of her free life. Today, poor-workers were going to be auctioned off to new owners. As soon as a crowd was gathered and the other poor-workers for sale arrived the auction would begin.

Jack Ike was one of the first bidders to arrived. He figured it would be a good habit to arrive first, to view what was up for auction at first. Of coarse, he'd be more willing to buy the better-faring of the stock, and would occasionally bid on the scraps simply to spite the others into paying more. He was standing outside, for that was where the auction was taking place: on a public stage, out in one of the parks in London. Not very secretive, but this sort of purchasing didnt need tobe, since slavery was no longer banned. As Jack stood there, he couldn't help but notice Cassandra; She seemed to be in good condition, compared to some of the other useless ones he'd seen. Most had a limp, or were noticeably scarred, or both, but she seemed to stand proper albeit her spirit was broken. Yes, she would do fine. He would bid until others could not to get her, what at this point was the finest for the crop; and it was not hard to bid when others couldn't, when you inherit a fortune that never ends. Jack grinned behind his glasses and fedora.

The sound of Ms. Rylen Oliver's shoes arrived long before she did; her servant, also, who came hurrying along carrying several trays and silver coolers of food. Sheba always hurried. Rylen did not. Even by the time Sheba had finished setting up at an empty table on the edge of the square, she was still walking behind in her brown mink coat, applying lipstick with a name like 'red wine' or 'ruby midnight,' and not at all feeling hurried.

Once she reached the table where Sheba was setting little cakes and sandwiches out on seperate platters, she smiled. Not at Sheba as herself, but Sheba as an object, skillful and desirable.

"Make sure you don't leave crumbs."

Sheba nodded with a refined sense of humility, acknowledging that this was a sort of compliment rare to Rylen especially. Then she looked down at the lacy gray dress that her master ordered that she wear today. It was flattering, not homely or worn. But her legs were freezing. She knew better than to say anything. So Rylen passed slowly by the concessions without another word.

**

Among those being sold, two ragged old men down from Cassandra, was someone with the name of Glen and very dirty hair. He looked curiously before him at the pudgy woman who was telling him to extend his bad foot. This he did without complaint (at least, not out loud). The woman grunted in approval.

"How did this happen?"

He replied, "Farmer's accident, miss."

"Can you run?"

He replied, "Not very fast for very long, miss."

"Well, at least that may be a good thing."

And so this sort of conversation happened over and over again, then the asker would leave and along another one would come.

Dahlia put an arm around her young poorworker.  Lea was only eight, and no way Dahlia would ever sell her.  Lea was too much like a daughter to her.  Instead, they came to the auction to see who they coul acquire into their small family.
 
Dahlia looked among the crowd.  There were many rich people who seemed to not care about anything other than money and servants.  One rich woman was making her servants set out a picnic for her; Dahlia didn't know the true reason, and didn't care.  Another rich boy was smirking and looking at a young, desolate girl poorworker.  Another woman, dressed luxuriously, was examining an young man with a broken foot.
 
"He might be good.  Doesn't look too down," Dahlia murmured.
 
"Yes'm." Lea folded her hands into her dark green dress. Her purple eyes flicked fearfully through the crowd as she followed Dahlia to the boy (Glen).
 
"Hello," Dahlia said to the boy. "Glen, your name is? Hmmm."
 
Lea stood by Dahlia, observing him.
 
"How did it happen?" Dahlia asked, referring to Glen's bad foot. "You can still use it, can't you?"

Cassandra tried to get smaller. She felt violated with everyone's eyes. Her arms wrapped around her legs. They were pulled up to her chest. She put her head in her arms. Her frail body shook with cold and fear. Is this going to be what it is like? She wondered.

A large man whom looked to be on his late forties walked on the stage. "Welcome to the poor-worker auction. We have a wide rang of servants here for everyone to purchase. We have the good looking, the injuries and more. Where should we start?"

"Five million on that one." Said Jack, pointing to Cassandra. This declaration most likely would have turned some heads, since this was a ridiculously high price for what would most likely be considered common groceries in this day and age. That is exactly why Jack did it; if he could keep other bidders out, then he'd get exactly what he'd wanted. "And a million on the one with the funny foot." He said, referring to Glen. If he was going to get one with a broken spirit, it would be a good idea to get one that did not; they might repair each other, or something.

(@Brute: Ahem, ahem-hum. "Two ragged old men down from Cassandra," as in, there's an old man, there's an old man, and then there's Glen with his bad self. Glen is...I forgot his exact age, somewhere up there in the late teens. It's in my application. I guess I also didn't make it clear that Sheba is setting up a concession stand of sorts, per to the town committee's request. Not a picnic. :P)

In answer, Glen reached forward and touched gently the last three toes on his foot. "These toes here, these three, miss, I can't feel; but even though the foot is crooked I use it for balance. It happened in a farming accident, miss."

Just then the start of the auction stole away his and much of the crowd's attention. The crowd ceased it's titterings, and, across square, Sheba passed out her last cake for a while yet, as even the hungriest bidders were curious to see who would speak up first. They didn't wait long before Jack had spoken up. Ms. Rylen Oliver, who had been about to do the exact same thing (only at a lower price; she was a bargainer), took it as a personal affront to herself and was more than noticeably irritated.

She directed a vixenish look towards Jack, cleared her pretty white throat and said,"Excuse me, I would like to bid on this one."  She motioned with her eyes towards Cassandra because, of course, a lady doesn't point, even to a common slave. "Seven...Seven million." Seven million pounds. Surely he couldn't go higher than that? Her hand hurriedly tapped against her coat, summing up in her head all the home renovations she would have to postpone in order to dish out seven million.

Glen's mouth hung open. He was too astonished at the sheer weight of the number to be offended by his price compared to Cassandra's.

He leaned back to see past the old men in his way, to see who the five million bid had gone to. But the little recluse had balled up so tightly that he couldn't see her face at all.

"Good people lets do one at a time. The current bid is seven million pounds on the young girl. Anyone else?" The auctioneer announced. His voice boomed over all others in the area.
Cassandra worried with the price escalating. Why did people want her? She wondered. She kept her face hidden knowing to look would be showing her fear.

Dahlia looked over to the girl on the stage. "Ten million pounds," she called out, "for the girl. And 2 million for the boy."

Lea squeezed Dahlia's hand. "It'll be okay, Dahlie."

Dahlia was worried. She hated doing this kind of stuff, but she needed the help.

Jack grimaced. Exactly what he had hoped to avoid; competition. He disliked it when others attempted to top him. He thought of a number that would silence them all, and ensure that they were both his. He got one. "Let's just finish this now... I bid Five hundred million pounds on both the boy and the girl, And I highly doubt anyone can top that, so I might as well take them now." He said, walking towards the stage. He flashed a smug look at Rylen, simply to get the message across that he wanted her out of the way, and that he was sure he could win. If he could bet half a billion dollars whilst acting as if it was loose change to him, bidding any further would simply make him declare larger and larger ammounts of cash.