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| April 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 5 2009, 10:37 PM (3,974 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:26 PM Post #166 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Sun Apr 13, 2008 11:37 am Lancelot The knight cocked an eyebrow as Neeve gazed back at him levely.
"I'm not going anywhere," Lancelot answered, steel in his tone. "And I do not need to be babied, thank you very much, madam healer. I will wait until this is finished." He gestured at Arthur, and watched with a hawk-like stare as Neeve moved to the commander.
Lancelot barked a laugh, but moved out of the way of Neeve and Arthur so the Briton could get to the Roman and fix what needed to be done. He relaxed slightly, and had to suck in a breath when he noticed the pain in his arm again. He took the mug Darya offered, drinking the water down, but did not sit. "I will care for myself, lady. I thank you just the same." He wasn't being cruel - he just didn't need someone who knew as little as he did about medicine trying to care for him. Besides...Darya was Arthur's. She should be with him, not fussing over Lancelot. He needs her. I need only for him to be well.
Lancelot pulled his bloody and damaged tunic over his head, holding it over his shoulder. He poured some of the wine out over his arm, straight onto the wound, and yelped outloud. He couldn't help it. "Fuck," came out of his lips quickly, and he wiped the excess dried and crusty red stuff off of the hole where the arrow had pierced. It didn't look bad; it just hurt like bloody hell. He looked at Arthur as he lowered his arms. "You are not going anywhere, commander. Look at the state of your side - Neeve - tell him." He stepped around to the other side of the bed, and inbetween them. "There was no poison, Arthur. Your fever would have been much worse, and you made it almost 24 hours without succumbing to delirium." He wiped his face with the sleeve of his tunic, ignoring the bit of fresh blood that was oozing from his wound. It was slowly beginning to tighten up, although he figured he'd have a nice new scar to show off when it was done. He looked at the Briton healer. "No poison - I'm sure of it." He wasn't really, but...he had seen wounds caused by tainted weapons before, and Arthur had been in much better shape than those unfortunate wretches had been. "You are going to have to admit it, Arthur - you're just hurt. Despite your best efforts, man, you are not a god, and you must accept the consequences." Lancelot squared off his bare shoulders and caught Darya's glance. "I'm sure your lady will agree with me when I say you're not leaving this room." It wasn't nice of him to involve Darya in this, he knew. But at this point, Lancelot didn't care. Arthur was going to stay and rest, and he would inlist the help of every man, woman, and child in this fortress if he had to. Lancelot was good at blackmail. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:41 PM Post #167 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Sun Apr 13, 2008 5:07 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus, Titrus and Brendyn entered the tavern and found a seat toward the back. Malcus removed his massive cloak and shook the clinging snowflakes to the floor. Damned accursed snow. The tall Roman swung one of his long legs over the wide seat and sat down, sighing heavily. What a day! Even though the Commander hadn't suffered any injuries during Merlin's pathetic assault, his muscles ached and he longed for a hot meal as his empty stomach rudely assaulted him, reminding him that he'd not eaten that day. Barbattus motioned for the other two men to sit down, then threw his hand up to catch the attention of a passing wench. Malcus' trained eye swept the tavern, looking for Catherine, hoping to find her, buy her a drink and then fuck her...in that exact order. Much to his disappointment however, she was nowhere to be seen. Probably with someone else, Malcus thought to himself. Not to be turned off by such a minor inconvenience, the Commander began scanning the crowd for another when Brendyn spoke, breaking his thoughts.
"Soldier, eat, drink and go to bed. You look like sheite," Barbattus replied flatly. By then, a serving wench arrived to take their order. Because Barbattus was the superior officer at the table, the wench addressed him. "Bring some bread and three portions of whatever's hot and salty with big pieces of meat in it. And keep the spicy mead coming until I either say 'stop' or until I can't talk anymore," Malcus said. He gave the girl a couple of coins for her effort and winked at her. The girl giggled and waddled off to get his drinks. Hmmmf, she'll do. he thought to himself while watching her walk away. Turning back to the other men, Barbattus said, "Brendyn, if you wish to succeed under my command there are 4 things you'll need to remember. One - report for all duties on time without complaint. Two - Perform above and beyond any assigned duties. I don't take kindly to mediocrity. Three - Keep your ears open and shut the fuck up unless I ask you to talk. I don't care about what you think, how you feel or what you observe unless I choose to care. Four - Rest when you're not on duty. I don't care if that's sleeping, poking a bar wench or doing fucking needlepoint. Whatever it is you do to rest...that's what you do when you're off. My soldiers need rest or else they're no good to me." Just then, the wench arrived with the men's drinks and smiled prettily at Barbattus who winked in return. When she left, Malcus tilted his tankard high and licked his lips. "Did I forget anything, Titrus?" Titrus smiled wickedly at Brendyn and said, "No, sir!" |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:44 PM Post #168 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Apr 13, 2008 8:28 pm Brendyn and Vanora Vanora watched from one side of the counter as the three Romans entered the tavern. She was cleaning the last of the dirty mugs and tankards and was ready to get to Bors so they could share a good night together. The one Roman didn't look so well, and for that matter, she did not recognize the young man...only Malcus and Titrus. Thank the gods Bors was not here. She watched as Malcus motioned for a wench to serve them as he cast his cloak aside and sat down. Not far from the counter maybe a five tables off, Brendyn looked around the establishment with hunger in his eyes. He wanted to take his cloak off as well except for the fact that he felt warmer with it on. He now sat across from Titrus and Malcus, looking less like a soldier and more like a soggy cat...
Brendyn looked stunned at the man, and then nodded in agreement...he did look like hell. Malcus was not like Antonius as the ex Commander would have told him his duties and left it at that. About the time he was going to answer, a lovely well built wench came to take their order. The young man could not help but be aroused by the woman, but he controlled himself as he considered himself still on duty until dismissed. The wench looked slightly at Brendyn who offered her his most charming smile, then turned her attention back to Malcus who placed the order. Brendyn used discretion when Malcus tossed the woman some coins and she giggled...
Having taken the order, the wench walked off past Vanora who was still serving out ales and meade to the customers looking to keep warm. Malcus turned back to Brendyn who was almost asleep, but he was alert to the man when he addressed him again...
Brendyn nodded again as the man had not asked him to talk, but was giving what he expected from him. When the wench returned with the drinks, Brendyn took his and took a sip of it. Not bad spiced wine...he took a good taste of it and left the warmth of the meade course through his system. Brendyn set the mug down and looked at the men in front of him, "Sirs, I will give my all to serve under your command." Brendyn looked at the two men wondering what thoughts they shared between them as Titrus smiled to the other. Why would he want to devulge what he thought to a man he had never met, or for that matter, any of them? His opinions were his own, and he kept them to himself. Brendyn finished the mug and set it down as his hand shook from cold...
Brendyn looked down at his mug of spiced wine, then looked at the two men then stood having recieved notice of what was expected of him, "If there is nothing else, Commander, I would like to go to evening prayer...for those in my legion that were lost...including Commander Antonius..." He needed sleep, but the night was still young and evening prayer was not that long. Brendyn waited at attention until Malcus dismissed him. Malcus was a lot like Antonius in alot of respects,a nd he made it a vow to himself to do everything he had been trained to do above and beyond the call of duty. Vanora, in the meantime, had placed her shawl on, and was about to leave the tavern, when she decided to go first and greet the young man. No better time then the present to meet new comers... Saying good night to the wenches on duty, Vanora approached the table where Malcus, Titrus and the newcomer were. "Malcus. Titrus," Vanora nodded to the two men, then looked at the standing officer. "And who might you be? A new comer to the fort?" Brendyn looked down at the red head, "I am called Brendyn. I transfered from Aesica..." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:49 PM Post #169 |
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Author: Kay Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 2:12 am Guinevere Guinevere walked slowly back to the camp with her father, having watched Ash enter the fort. There was nothing more to be done now, except wait, either for a signal that Ash needed help, or for him to return with the two Woad females.
Guinevere nodded thoughtfully. "The fortress is a warren of passageways and buildings; it takes some time to become familair with the complex. My only hope is that Ash will be able to move around freely. Time is not on our side, Father; Neeria was badly wounded" Up ahead, the pair spotted Connell, the healer, waiting patiently. Snow was dusting the ground, stained pink by the blood of the injured. A vision of her dear friend lying wounded in the fortress flashed through the dark Woad's mind. Hold firm, Neeria, she pleaded silently. Help is coming. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:50 PM Post #170 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 2:55 am Mirtha Mirtha was surprised at the sharp glance Tristan gave him as he pointed to the horse, but did not let it show. He just stared with rised eyebrow at the scout. This was one of the knights horse, but Mirtha did not know which one had not returned.
Mirtha was watching Tristan examining the horse... he looked like profesional doing so and the stable master looked around for a second leaning against a stall wall with his hand. Everything seemed in order. Stable hands were walking quiet good he could say. As Tristan spoke up, Mirtha looked back at him and nodded his head. "Fine..." he said and patted the horse on the side.
Mirtha looked at Ione and smiled nodding his head... he turned around and took a rope laying on the floor... what idiot had left it here? He started to coil it...
He lifted his head with surprise and not understanding the question before Tristan pointed over his shoulder at Ione's back. He breathed a short laugh and shook his head. "Ione? No... She needed some occupation. That's all" In truth he had one of sheepish smile on his face as he looked in Ione's direction... She was a fine looking woman and he in truth liked her and was happy to see her around. Even as she disappeared in one of the stalls he still had his eyes upon that place. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:52 PM Post #171 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 8:45 am Merlin
"So I'm told...so I'm told." Merlin murmurred the words grimly, looking straight ahead, the memory of Mona delivering her message dancing before his eyes. Covered with blood, Mona had said...she had described how Neeria had fainted...a wounded warrior might well die in the Roman dungeons, just from the cold and the lack of air and light! And Eala- Eala was just a child, albeit a warrior already. Could either of them endure, in those Roman pits that had already claimed so many? "Hopefully he will be able to summon you soon, to assist him," Merlin continued, concluding that sentiment on a restless sigh as they drew even with Connell. The whole rescue operation was a desperate attempt indeed, and with the Lady Lourdes to contend with, it had possibly become even more so. Ash, Guinevere, and Connell all had a great deal riding on their efforts. "Well, he's safely in," Merlin stopped in front of the healer and updated him on the situation. "He'll lie low for tonight, but starting tomorrow you two have to be ready for him to let you into the fort at any time. Get as much rest as you can tonight," he added by way of advice. Their time in the fort, he thought, could be very tense indeed- but he almost wished he was going himself. In his younger days, this would have been an assignment he would have relished- stealing prisoners out from under the very noses of the Romans! And the waiting would be difficult- very difficult, not knowing what was going on behind those massive walls. But Merlin had to lead the people back to the village- that was his duty now. Tristan
Occupation, huh? Tristan arched an eyebrow, not missing the slightly sheepish, abashed expression on Mirtha's face, the way he followed with his gaze the direction the barmaid had taken. The two of them, then? Not a pairing Tristan would have predicted- but then, Ione was good-looking in her way, if far too talkative for Tristan's taste. And she seemed lusty- she was flirting around a new man every week, practically. Hmmmph. Tristan grunted acknowledgement of Mirtha's words, reminded that he himself had considered getting a woman for the night. It still seemed a good idea- but he should tend to Tirgatao a little first, if he was to be his new mount. It was time they started getting used to each other. "Thanks," Tristan remarked to Mirtha, the words both grateful and dismissive as he reached over and picked up a brush from the nearby supply shelf. The stallion's saddle and bags had of course already been removed, all trace of Gedeon's ownership gone, and food and water had been provided, but a little grooming never went amiss. Grooming today, and he would take him out and ride him tomorrow. By now, with the sun sinking and the interior of the stables growing dim, Tristan felt safe in assuming that they would not be riding out after Woads or whatever Arthur planned to do today- and so much the better. A while later, having brushed Tirgatao all over and found him a treat of a couple of carrots, Tristan was ready to leave the stables and make his way over to the tavern and that woman he had promised himself- perhaps the blonde one from the courtyard, if she was available- she had been an appealing wench. In a content and anticipatory mood, Tristan began to make his way up the main aisle of the bit stable, all the horses settling down to sleep around him- but as he passed a row of saddle blankets, hung up over a makeshift line to air out, he paused. Blankets...the Woad prisoner. The desperate way she had cried out to him, begging him not to leave her. She had asked him to bring her a blanket. He owed her nothing. She ought to be dead right now, if Arthur had had any sense. But he didn't- he wanted her kept alive, and if he had not ridden out as he had planned, she must still be in the dungeons. And perhaps no one else had brought her a blanket. Had a healer even been to see her? The infirmary must be swamped- surely a mere prisoner would be rather low on the priority list. "Damn it," Tristan muttered to himself, grumpily yanking the nearest saddle blanket down. He didn't want to be accused of having compassion for the woman- that was no virtue, in his book- but the thought of her still in that cell, alone and without the things she needed, rankled as he remembered her wild eyes, her desperate reaching out to him. Damn it. Arthur wanted her alive. That was why he was doing this, Tristan told himself. He had been placed in charge of getting her to the dungeons, and if she was found dead in the morning, it might reflect badly on him, on his doing of his duty. That was the reason, the only reason, why Tristan was now trudging not to the welcoming lights of the tavern, but to the gloomy entrance to the dungeons, a horse blanket crumpled up under his arm, as if it would be possible to hide it that way. "I need to see that Woad," he muttered grumpily to the guard, who once more took him to the door of Neeria's cell and unlocked the door. The expression on his face was curious, but seeing the black look on Tristan's face, he asked no questions- the scout was a forbidding one to talk to, as he had already known, and besides, it was not that unusual around the fort for the knights to do the personal bidding of Commander Castus. For all the guard knew, Tristan was doing this at the behest of Arthur himself. In the doorway of the cell, Tristan blinked a couple of times, while his eyes got used to the darkness. Finally, he spotted the Woad, curled up in a ball on the straw, where he had been expecting to see her. He took a step forward, shook out the blanke and dropped it on her where she lay, then took a step back, hesitating for just a second to see if she had noticed. She wasn't dead already, was she? |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:53 PM Post #172 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 9:33 am Neeria Neeria lay crouched in a corner of her cell, on a soggy, smelly clump of straw. It was dark, cold and stinky. She was terrified and couldn't see a thing in the small hell that enclosed her. Her tears had stopped, she had none left, and her shivering became so natural that it was almost like breathing to her. Arthur Castus should have killed me, she thought to herself, imaging that death couldn't be worse than this. At least in death, she would be with Mikel again. Mikel. In Neeria's tired and weary mind, thoughts of him were all that were keeping her alive. Her stomach banged viciously against her rib cage demanding to be fed and her throat ached of thirst. The healer the guard sent for never came and neither had food, water or a blanket. Neeria's wound had begun to itch. It desperately needed to be cleaned. She'd smelled her fingers again could not detect infection in the wound, but it still needed tending to. Neeria's mind flashed to the scout. He was wild and feral-looking, dirty and menacing. But there something to him, the woad thought. For certain, it wasn't kindness or compassion. Neeria felt it was more like familiarity. Comfort? Normality? She'd startled him on the road and there was a brief moment - a millisecond - when their eyes locked. That moment of hesitation when the earth stood still and she had not killed him. Was that on purpose? Had she spared the scout? Neeria pushed the thoughts from her head, surely she was going mad in this prison hell. The woad pursed her blue lips together - blue from cold and not from war paint - and blew on her freezing hands. Suddenly, the warrior heard voices on the other side of the door. Then a key slid into the lock on the cell door. Terrified, Neeria pulled her knees up tighter to her chest and lay in a fetal position, shaking uncontrollably. A tall dark figure graced the doorway and made it's way over to her. Neeria squeezed her eyes shut until she felt the scratchiness and immediate heaviness and warmth of a .... blanket! The woad sat up quickly blinking her eyes, struggling to see in the dark. She focused on the dark ominous shape in front of her - tall and straight! "SCOUT! You came back!" she shrieked in recognition. The frantic woman grabbed the blanket around her, burying her face in it. Unable to stand, she slid her small body across the nasty, cold floor and grabbed Tristan's knee, sobbing against him. "Thank you, Scout. Thank you," she cried, desperately clinging to him. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:55 PM Post #173 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 10:00 am Neeve & Darya
Ah yes, exactly the reaction she had expected from the stubborn curly-haired knight…and exactly the reaction she was used to get from him whenever he was injured or ill. It had taken a poisoned Woad arrow to knock him out completely and to have him on the edge of death. That was years ago, but she remembered it well. Yet Neeve could not help but breathe a quiet laugh at Lancelot’s obstinate reply to her words as she knew better than to give in so easily. “Be assured, Lancelot, that someone will see to your injury as well…and if I have to do it myself…”, the Briton commented coolly, “…and the 'when' shall be a question of how you keep up…” …and behave, she added in thought and gave the knight a look that left hardly any room for discussions.
Darya found herself mildly amused by the snarky exchange between Lancelot and the healer, wondering who of the two might be more stubborn. However, when the First Knight addressed her regarding Neeve’s idea of her tending to him, the dark Sarmatian just rolled her eyes and refilled the mug with water in case Arthur or Lancelot would want some more of it. “Of course you will…”, she then murmured and pulled a chair as close to the bed as possible to sit by Arthur’s side and to give the Roman whatever he would ask of her…
Neeve furrowed her brow at Arthur’s reply while briefly watching Lancelot and the dark-haired woman positioning themselves near the Commander’s bed. Neither of them apparently had the intention to just leave and let her do her work. Gotta love audience, the raven-haired thought sarcastically, yet would perhaps give them the benefit of the doubt…after all, they might be able to distract Arthur while she would take care of the bloody mess that once was his abdomen… “Well, in that case I am sorry to inform you that I am not impressed, Commander…”, the Briton then replied to the Roman and met his weary green gaze with her blue one again, “…as this would be a truly foolish ruse.” She paused for a moment before giving Arthur one of her rare yet honest smiles. “Just invite me for dinner or a drink next time”, Neeve then added quietly, “…less pain and work for both of us…”
Darya? Now was that not the woman she had talked about to Derfel the other day? The healer frowned briefly but then picked up a clean cloth and a small bowl with an oily fluid made of scouring rush, which should stop the wound from bleeding and would also be a first step to counteract a possible infection… Carefully, yet firmly the woman began to work on the Commander’s body…preparing it for what was unavoidable…
The raven-haired glanced up at Arthur and parted her lips to say something…but Lancelot was faster…
Alright, that was a lot of information. Both – Neeve and Darya – blinked at the Arthur’s as well as at Lancelot’s words and then looked at each other for a moment. Then Darya reached for her lover’s hand and took it into both of hers. “Lancelot is right, Arthur…”, the female Sarmatian said quietly, for once instantly agreeing with the First Knight, “…you need to recover fully…you know that. All else would just be an unnecessary risk…” Her dark eyes once more lingered intently on the Roman. She knew how stubborn Arthur could be…but hoped that he would give in to Lancelot’s and her words… Neeve did not like the mentioning of the word 'poison' and her eyebrows shot up as she looked at Lancelot as the knight spoke. Arthur was feverish…but poison would have caused a certain staining to the stab wound…and now as the injury was not bleeding that much anymore, she was inclined to agree with the First Knight. Narrowing her blue eyes, she scrutinized the wound once more…and then tilted her head. “I don’t think that poison is involved here, Arthur…”, the Briton finally said and applied some more scouring rush to the sore flesh, “…blood loss and perhaps a beginning infection are the reasons for you feeling so weak. And you have a fever, too, Commander…” With that, the healer held the bowl and the cloth up for Lancelot to take it. Now as the Sarmatian had his tunic taken off, his own injury was ever so obvious, and she would not let him get away with no treatment so easily. “Do me a favour and apply this to your wound, too… Since you don’t want anyone to help you, you might as well do it yourself…”, she stated, and it was no real plea… Then Neeve picked up the needle she had brought and rolled the thread between her fingers before threading the needle. “And to make one thing clear, Arthur…you will certainly not go anywhere anytime soon. You would have to get past me…and trust me, right now this would be a mission impossible for you…”, the healer then addressed the Commander once more and gave him a warning glance, “…I know that you are not happy to hear this…but your First Knight and your lady are right… And now you may want to look somewhere else…” Then Neeve began to stitch… |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:56 PM Post #174 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 10:00 am Tristan
Tristan grimaced painfully as she threw herself at him, clutching at his knees, shrieking, and practically weeping in her inexplicable joy at seeing him again. He felt hopelessly embarrassed by this performance, and rolled his eyes towards the doorway, where the guard, still keeping an eye on things, had what appeared in the gloom to be an amused expression on his face- in fact, muffled chortling sounds indicated he was trying to supress laughter. Tristan scowled blackly at him- if he could have killed him with a look, he would have- and then bent down and started to trying to prise her fingers off of his legs. "Tristan," he muttered as he did so- having her call him "scout" at the top of her lungs somehow added even more to the embarrassment of it all. Going relatively gently- that is, gently enough that breaking fingers was no possibility, though pain might have been- he managed to peel one bony hand out of the cloth of his trousers, but as soon as he started on the other one, the first was replaced, clinging with the strength and desperation of the dying. "For fuck's sake, will you let go?" he muttered to the creature before him, still sobbing and clinging in a heap at his feet. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:57 PM Post #175 |
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Author: Kay Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 10:43 am Guinevere
"Yes, Father" Guinevere replied, and nodding to Connell, she turned to go. She suddenly realised just how tired she was. The dark Woad turned back to gaze at her father; the expression on his face was wistful and, knowing her father as she did, Guinevere realised just how much he would have liked to take part in the rescue himself. She strode back to Merlin and hugged her father tight. "Sleep well, Father" she said and kissed his whiskered cheek; then without another word, she walked away to try and rest, although the thudding of her heart told her she would find this difficult, even though her very bones were weary. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 04:58 PM Post #176 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 11:05 am Mona Mona watched Merlin, Guinevere and Connell from her place among the shadows. She knew they were plotting a rescue attempt for little Eala and also Neeria. Mona had been undecided what to do. She thought about her friend, Neeria. The two warrioresses had grown up together but Neeria was Merlin's favorite - almost like another daughter to him. And she was Guinevere's beloved also - they were like sisters. Neither Merlin nor Guinevere seemed to ever notice Mona, not even as a child developing into a strong female fighter. Although Mona had grown up used to being placed behind Neeria, it didn't squelch the jealous pangs she felt from time to time. Oh! Mona considered Neeria a dear friend, there's no doubt about that and Mona would fiercely follow her into battle. But with Neeria out of the way... Mona had heard about the Roman dungeons before and she'd seen Neeria's condition. The warrior was probably dead already anyway, as she'd lost a lot of blood. Having made her decision, Mona came from darkness and walked up to Merlin. "Merlin, before the others depart on their mission, there is something I must tell you about Neeria." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:09 PM Post #177 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 12:31 pm Derfel Derfel felt Linnette’s shoulder tense beneath his touch, but he did not pull his hand away or regret the gesture. He would give all the support she’d allow….considering all that had happened, Derfel had made up his mind to forget all their past squabbles and simply accept and care for Linnette in any way that he could. Gedeon had loved her, Dagonet obviously loved her and of course she was Linnesse’s sister….therefore, Derfel should love her….even if she continued to hate him. Linnesse stirred and attempted to sit up to which Linnette immediately moved to help her. Derfel’s hand dropped to his side as Linnette did so and then stood.
Derfel, not knowing what to say to persuade her otherwise, reached up to somewhat nervously scratch at the back of his neck and glance over to Linnesse for guidance.
Derfel felt awkward for sure. But he wanted to look after Linnette and see to it that she was safe…..and the only way he figured he could do that was to have her remain with he and Linnesse, at least for tonight. He couldn’t reckon Linnette being alone was any good for her now. She was pregnant and thus fragile in Derfel’s eyes.
“Linnette…..I….” Derfel took a step after Linnette as she headed for the door obviously intent on leaving. “…I’m no doubt the last person you’d want help from. But, I want to look after you….you and your sister are all I got now, aye?” Derfel somewhat fumbled as he closed the distance between them. But seeing the sheer determination in Linnette’s sad eyes, Derfel did the only thing he thought he could right now….and reached around Linnette to open the door for her. He would confer with Linnesse once her sister had gone and go after Linnette if need be. “If you can’t sleep in your room….come back here…I’ll see you settled, alright?” Derfel added with a small nod and silent prayer to the gods that Linnette would actually listen. Arthur
“I shall keep that in mind next time, my lady,” Arthur answered with equal candor although he kept his voice low. Neeve had not changed in the many years she had been away in his opinion. And Arthur was thankful for it. He then heard Lancelot curse and looked up to see the knight had removed his tunic; giving Arthur a better view of Lancelot’s bloody arm. The Roman frowned; deep lines forming across his brow in concern for the other man. Arthur opened his mouth to further insist that Neeve see to Lancelot when the knight began his own tirade on Arthur’s condition.
Arthur narrowed his intensely green eyes at Lancelot; jaw tightening and that steely mask that he wore as a Roman Commander sliding into place again. It was possible Lancelot had guessed correctly about the poison, but his lieutenant was no medicus and no expert on such matters. Yet one thing was for certain, Arthur was going after Merlin just as soon as Neeve was finished stitching up his wound…and Lancelot would accept the Commander’s decision to do so.
“Lancelot,” Arthur spoke the knight’s name in a tone strongly suggesting that the other man hold his tongue. But as Darya came to Arthur’s side, he refrained from making a biting remark….for now.
Arthur had accepted Darya’s hand in his and gently returned her caring gesture by squeezing her slender fingers in his. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes before turning to look at her; expression softening as their eyes met. Darya loved Arthur; he understood that she was frightened by his current physical condition. But he had a duty to fulfill…Arthur was responsible for the safety and well-being of all the inhabitants of the fortress. And with God’s help, he would guarantee their safety before resting again.
“That is good news, I suppose,” Arthur’s brows slightly lifted in relief as poison could have very well meant his death if it could not be countered quickly enough. So after a few stitches and a re-dressing, he could carry on with his duties. Arthur lifted his free hand to rake through the dark curls of his hair as Neeve spoke to Lancelot; insisting the stubborn knight clean up his own wound. “Do as she has instructed, Lancelot. Or I will do it myself in a moment…and none too gently, my friend,” Arthur added with a stern look at Lancelot. The knight’s injury would be taken care of one way or another. Stubborn bastard. Arthur thought to himself; completely oblivious to the fact that his own actions mirrored those of Lancelot’s.
“All three of you conspire against me,” Arthur answered with a grunt albeit followed by an obviously defeated sigh. He then hissed while sucking in a breath at feeling Neeve’s needle pierce the sore flesh around his wound. But Arthur did not bother to look away. He had no qualms about watching the healer perform her task on his body. This was not the first time Arthur had felt the sting of a needle. “I see that you have not lost your gentle touch,” Arthur quipped with a grimace as Neeve continued to sew up the wound in his side. He attempted to show only strength, but the Roman’s head was light and his eyes burned with fever. He silently prayed for God to give him the strength he’d need to do his duty. Then Arthur would rest. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:10 PM Post #178 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 1:29 pm Linnette and Linnesse
"I understand." Linnette gave Derfel a sad nod that shaded into another small attempt at a smile. She didn't want to have to come back here in the middle of the night- she wasn't sure she would even if she wanted to. But despite the awkwardness between them, she was glad that it was offered. Linnesse's presence might be a comfort, certainly. "I'm not going to throw myself from the ramparts, Derfel, really." That pitiful attempt at a joke ended badly, as another catch of breath that pushed her nearer to tears again. Poor choice of words. Though her words were true- she had no intention of doing that now- throw herself from the ramparts had been exactly what Linnette had tried to do that long ago day when Arthur's messenger had brought the news that Linnesse was dead. Linnette, despairing because she felt she had failed her sister, had very nearly done that very thing- and it had been Gedeon who had stopped her. Another sob welled up in Linnette's throat as she remembered the way he had launched himself at her with no thought for his own safety, flinging them both sideways and somehow twisting himself so that he took the brunt of the fall onto the stones of the wall top, she landing half on top of him- that had been how they had met. And then he had died in a fall off very similar ramparts far away. Quite a tale. "I'm just going to pray," she concluded, those words a near whisper as tears threatened very close behind her eyes. She made a small gesture over at Linnesse, like a wave of leave-taking, rather truncated. Her sister made another rather weak attempt at sitting all the way up and reaching out for her, but Linnette merely shook her head, laid her hand on the door handle, and went out into the corridor, her head slightly bowed, again, in a futile attempt to hide her tears. Inside the room, Linnesse sank back onto pillows Linnette had placed for her, tiredly, but with a half-sad, half-exasperated sigh. "If only I wasn't as weak as a kitten," she muttered bad-temperedly, her eyes sliding closed of their own accord again. She felt suddenly the frustration of her confinement with illness; before she had only felt the determination of trying to get through it, and pride and relief when she had realized she was recovering. Now, for the first time, she found herself angry at the weakness of her body, that prevented her from really being there for her sister the way she should, and while that might have been a good sign that her recovery was proceeding, it was nothing more than a source of exasperation right now. But there was nothing to be done about it- she would recover only with rest, and to push herself too hard would only be to backslide. |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:12 PM Post #179 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 3:39 pm Malcus Barbattus Malcus threw back the tankard, drained it, then slammed it to the table. "Another one!" he yelled at the wench, waving. The young woman scurried to the barrel to get his refill. The hungry commander scooped a big spoonful of the salty lamb stew into his mouth and groaned with pleasure as he chewed and felt the food slide down his throat and hit his rioting stomach. "Mmmmm..." he moaned, licking his lips and feeling relief at last. Just then, as Brendyn stood to leave, Vanora approached the table, apparently finished for the evening.
"Hello, my little fiery, red-headed beauty," Malcus chuckled. The commander was very fond of Vanora and was genuinely glad to see her. Vanora smiled then turned to speak to the new soldier. The plump wench returned with Malcus' refill. As she placed the new mug onto the table, Malcus stared at her ample bosom. The commander had always been partial to fuller women. He could pick his teeth with a bone, so he preferred comfort between the thick, soft thighs of a woman with some meat on her. Malcus pulled the wench close to him and whispered something, apparently naughty, in her ear which caused her to turn crimson red. She hurriedly whispered something back to Malcus, who smiled and nodded his head. The wench turned to leave, but not without a firm squeeze on her ample bum from the randy commander. Satisfied with what was going to be his dessert, Barbattus hurriedly ate the rest of his stew. Neeria Neeria clung to the man who, in her mind, saved her life. The scout tried to pry her fingers from around his calf, but Neeria was too afraid to let go of him. To her, he was all that held her onto life. She heard the guard laughing at her and she bared her teeth at him, growling like a protective bear.
The woad prisoner heard him speak over top her frantic cries. Neeria froze and looked up at him, scrunching her nose. He'd told her his name! "Tristan? Tristan? Triiiiiiistan? Tristaaaaaaaaan?" she said repeatedly, trying hard to say it like he had. "Tris-tan," she said with finality, satisfied with her pronounciation, "Thank you, Tris-tan, Tristan!" Neeria still clung to him for her life. Neeria pulled the blanket around her with her free hand and held to Tristan tighter. "Scout....Triiiis-tan, you have saved my life. Thank you," she said again softly, choking back her tears. "Please don't leave me here. Not yet. Please." |
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| golden_trillium | Mar 14 2010, 05:13 PM Post #180 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Apr 14, 2008 5:43 pm Brendyn and Vanora Brendyn stood by knowing he had been dismissed, but wondering when he should report for duty in the morning. He saw Malcus pull the wench toward him, and whisper something confidential in her ear, then she replied in kind. The young soldier watched as the wench walked off please with whatever had been said between them. Malcus had every reason to give the wench the appreciative glance that he did...she was lovely and well endowed. The soldier yawned too tired to be really interested in any women right now...
Vanora nodded in return to the man's greetings, but seeing as Bors was waitng for her, she did not want to stay long. "It is good to see you as well, Malcus. Love to stay and talk but Bors is waitng at home...haven't seen him for a while." She turned when Brendyn introduced himself, Vanora gave him a warm smile, "Nice to meet you, Brendyn. Now why don't you go and get some rest before you fall over..." She had said this as it looked as though he was on his way out anyway. Brendyn bowed to her slightly, taking in her natural beauty as he did so. Whoever she belonged to, he was a lucky man. Brendyn looked back at Titrus and Malcus, "Sir, Sorry to interrupt, but what time am I to report to you tomorrow?" Brendyn looked with tired eagerness at his new Commander not wanting to be late for his first day on the job... |
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