As you stare yourself, rather bewildered, you hear the rustling of a curtain being opened right next to you. Or rather, not too, too far. By sheer reflex, you look in that direction and you see an older man coming out of the changing booth. He must be in his early 50's, with little muscle, a belly and his hair cropped short. He came out of the dressing room wearing a toga too. But one of a much finer quality than yours, that's for sur. He wears a reddish one over it, like a cloak or a cape.He's got sandals of good leather too. And a few items of jewellery, Gold too! Well, fake gold, but still... He's got good imitations. You want to ask him where he got this costume. It is so much cooler than yours! So you open your mouth to ask but to your surprise you ask instead:
"Master?..."
You clasp your hand to your mouth. What did you say? Why? And why in such deferential tones? It makes no sense! You don't even no the guy! Let alone to call him by THAT name! But the man just gets a weird glaze over his euyes and he speaks too. In a monotonous tone, too, which makes it even weirder.
"I... I shall sell you... To the satyrs... They pay good wine for slaves... And... And I like fine wine so, so much..."
With that, the world spins. It spins wildly and when you finally regain your balance after teetering a bit, well, you see that everything has changed. You are now a kid. A kid barely of ten from what you can guess. You are on a very low little platform, in the middle of different stalls. A market. Except a lot of mythological creatures are ambling around. Minotaurs, centaurs, nymphs, satyrs, fauns, harpies,... You name it. The fat guy holding you is tugging on the chain, haranguing the crowd, trying to sell you to the highest bidder, reiterating that he can be paid in wine, no problem. You... You are a kid! The old guy thinks he's really a Roman rich jerk! But... But worse, who will purchase you? All of the buyers are monsters it seems! No human in sight!