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June 2008
Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,701 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: linnet
Date: Sat Jun 14, 2008 1:45 pm
Mother Lavinia


Lancelot
 
"My sweet lady."


Lavinia wasn’t about to be influenced by this ruffian’s feeble
attempt to charm her, any more than she had with the hairy
one. She knew she wasn’t a sweet lady, so it was no use for
them to pretend to believe she was. Her dour expression didn’t
change as she waited to hear what he’d come up with next,
before she sent him away.

Lancelot
 
"My lady, I am not just a wet Sarmatian. I am the wet
Sarmatian. I am Lancelot, and I must see to my brother
in arms, Dagonet. I would be sore remiss in shirking my
responsibilities in that regard, would I not?"


The old nun actually had to suppress a laugh. She was well
aware that he was Lancelot. She knew all the irksome
Sarmatians by name. She just preferred to think of them in
more graphic terms – easier to remember at her age too. This
one certainly was the Sarmatian, at least in his own opinion.
Lavinia warmed to the idea of a little verbal sparring with
the man. He measured up well to her high standards of fast
thinking and cynicism.

“And I would be remiss in shirking my responsibilities to
insure my patients the quiet and rest they need to heal. You
may be the wet Sarmatian, but you still have to meet the
approval of the servant of God. That would be me,” Lavinia
parried, then waited for his next thrust. Sadly he didn’t seem
in the mood to keep up the exchange, and shifted tactics.

Lancelot
 
"Peace, sister. I come from Commander Castus, and I must
see to my friend, no matter whom else has come to him.”


Well, that settled it. Artorius Castus was the only authority
Lavinia respected in this human dumping ground. Such a fine
Christian fellow. A brave and morally impeccable Roman. It was
a shame he had to spend so much time with the uncouth
Sarmatians. But the nun had faith that Castus was steadfast
and devoted to God strongly enough to avoid being corrupted by
example.

“Well why didn’t you say so?” she demanded as she turned and
beckoned for Lancelot to follow her toward Dagonet and his
expanding retinue. “How is the Commander doing?” she asked
with genuine concern.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 2:07 am
Neeve


Vanora
 
"Well, cook made some stew and some fresh grain
bread...got some cheese as well. Food got a bit tight
after the first woad attack destroyed some of the
storage bins of grain... Adian, young carpenter that
works here, well cook caught him sneaking in some fresh
kill into the kitchen as though he did not want others
to know what he had done....he told me that he felt he
had to because of the shortage so that Women and
children could eat. Too bad about the infirmary,
dear...hope things will get back together soon. Adian's
wife to be, Thorn, died trying to save a very young boy
from dying at a woad's hand during that attack... aww
poop, I just seem to be babbling on when you have
patients to see to. I think all we have is a good hearty
soup and some grain bread and some cheese...."


A slight frown of concentration creased Neeve’s brow and she
blinked a few times as she tried to focus on all Vanora was
saying. By the Gods, she had forgotten just how much the
redhead could talk… That wasn’t a bad thing of course…and
certainly came in handy when the tavern was where you work…but
since Neeve was not exactly a woman of many words, it was not
easy for her to keep up with Vanora.

However, the healer managed to filter the most important
information out of all the words and was relieved to hear that
she would get Arthur his soup and some bread…and that she
could also allow herself to fill up her empty stomach. Good.

Then Vanora also said something about a hunting carpenter and
said carpenter’s apparently now dead wife to be. The frown on
the Briton’s brow deepened. She had no real idea of who those
two persons might be… The healer did, however, recall a dead
blonde woman in the infirmary. The corpse had been brought
there by the guy (Mirtha) who had accompanied Ione, Darya and
Isolde that night. Maybe that was the woman? Neeve cleared her
throat once Vanora had fallen silent. “Well, I don’t think I
know this Adian…or this Thorn for that matter…and the Woad
attacks have brought death to several people at Badon… Was the
woman…was she a blonde? There was one in the infirmary the
other night but I have no idea where the body is now…”, the
raven-haired woman finally replied and grimaced slightly as
she was sure that this was not what Vanora wanted to hear,
“…and…ah…I certainly don’t want to pillage your kitchen…so…”
Neeve paused and blew a strand of black hair out of her face.
“So…a small bowl of soup should do for me…and a bigger one
with some bread for my patient if that is possible…”, the
healer added and a corner of her mouth twitched slightly as
she attempted another smile. Something that still did not come
to her naturally. “And…how is Bors?”, she then asked, not only
because she at least tried to be a bit conversational but also
because she had not seen the burly knight since the men had
returned from the battle against the Saxons and she honestly
cared for each of their well-beings…which, of course, included
Bors…
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 7:49 am

Derfel


Derfel could not help the concern in his blue eyes as Saoirse
met his gaze. Her expression seemed filled with emotions that
might possibly give way to tears at any moment. She mouthed
what Derfel thought to be a ‘thank you’ before turning away
from his gaze again. Derfel’s frown of concern grew deeper and
he briefly glanced over at Lucius. Had something changed in
Dagonet’s condition since he’d stepped away to have the red
head so upset? Or was the young knight completely misreading
her? In truth, Derfel did not know Saoirse that well at all
really.

The small child’s presence seemed to distract them all, if
only briefly, from the heavier mood that seemed to hang over
the room like a thick blanket. Once again, Derfel offered the
little girl a smile until he heard Saoirse’s voice. The smile
still lingered on Derfel’s expression as he looked to the red
head again.

Saoirse
 
"No, no need nothin' Derfel, thanks though. G'wan on an'
get yerselves somethin' t'eat before it gets old."


“Alright then…I’m sure these two need their rest,” Derfel
answered with a nod to both Dagonet and Bors. He had thought
to add that Saoirse should send for him if she needed anything
later, but thought it best to let it go. Dagonet knew he could
count on the young knight for anything and that was enough.
And certainly Dagonet would urge Saoirse to rest herself. No
doubt Linnesse would be awake soon and Derfel did wish to get
back to his love as well.

Derfel turned to Lucius with the intention of suggesting they
head on to the tavern when he heard Lavinia’s voice from
behind. The young knight glanced in the direction of her voice
to see Lancelot approaching as well. What in Bel’s name was
the First Knight doing in the infirmary? Derfel knew how much
the dark knight hated the place and he couldn’t recall
Lancelot suffering an injury…and he was on his feet instead of
being bound and dragged into the place. Was it Arthur?? Derfel
prayed to the gods it was not and since the Sarmatian was not
barking orders or in any sort of rush…surely he should not be
alarmed. But curiosity certainly held Derfel in place while
they approached. He’d head off to the tavern ‘after’ he saw
what Lancelot was up to.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 9:04 am

Ceinwyn


An air of defeat? Oh truly, it haunted her like a thousand
hellish spirits. Ceinwyn had witnessed enough to justify
despair, and she did not hide it. The woman’s deep green eyes
had adopted a passionate luster, and it gleamed with cruel
intent. Her young skin was mottled blue with war-paint and
bruising, and her lips were dry and cracked. Ceinwyn’s long
red hair had once been thick with life and coltish spirit, but
now it was matted, knotted and sticky with mud and blood. She
was a horrific sight, but the woman cared not. She felt the
burning loss of her soul, and her rationality had died during
the war. She sought vengeance, she yearned for it. As she
walked alongside Merlin, she drew strength from him. His
presence gave her courage, but it also reminded her of a great
loss. Was she a fool to dwell upon it? Ceinwyn wanted to force
the guilt from her mind, but she could not. It surrounded her,
drowning her. The woman stopped alongside the marching Woads,
listening to the woodland. A gust of wind hissed through the
trees, shaking the branches and leaves.

Her dark eyes softened slightly.

Merlin
 
"I am glad to hear it, We all will see vengeance
someday, child- the Romans are not destined to stay in
this land. As for Neeria and Eala, pray to the Gods for
them, and we will see what comes about "


Merlin reached out and touched her shoulder, but the woman did
not move, did not respond. His touch upon her was comforting,
and Ceinwyn turned slowly to look at him. Her eyes looked to
his hand upon her skin, and then to his face, searching. The
woman did not know human touch, human contact, and it took her
offguard. She trusted no-one truly, but Merlin’s attention
gave her confidence. She breathed a shallow breath, and turned
back to the marching Woads. The Romans were not destined to
remain alive, and the Woads would ensure they died hard and
fast. Oh, but Ceinwyn did not pray to the Gods for
anything…she believed Neeria and Eala must find their own
courage and strength. They must prove their worth, however
hypocritical it may sound. If Neeria was truly a traitor, then
she would die. Ceinwyn had been treacherous in body, but not
in mind…Neeria would be punished harsher….

Merlin
 
"Now let's go on and get to the village- we're not far."


Ceinwyn followed obediently, without question. She did not
wish to visit the village, she wished to remain alone…but the
Woad would obey. For now. She fell into step beside Merlin,
and her hand moved to the hilt of her dagger. Amongst her
brethren, Ceinwyn appeared strong. Her chin lifted defiantly,
deliberately avoiding conversation with anyone else. The Woad
lacked the talent for friendship; it did not suit her
impulsive nature. She was a woman destined to live alone and
in solitude. Company made her cautious, on edge, even with her
own people. Perhaps this proclivity for loneliness made her
stronger? She believed so. Ceinwyn also believed that she
would prove her worth, despite orders and convention. She was
prepared to risk all…

“I shall draw strength from your words then,” she spoke
quietly, and inclined her head in respect to the elder Woad.
Her voice lacked its youthful luster, but Ceinwyn did not
appear weakened. She walked strongly with the army, her slim
legs and feet pressing onwards towards their destination.
Ceinwyn trusted Merlin, and she would go to the village. She
would draw strength from her brethren…and then once again, be
overwhelmed by her desire to be alone. She was stronger then,
and her mind was clearer. The cold wind bit against her
discoloured cheeks, and she sighed, deeply…

Now was not the time to press further…
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 1:17 pm

Dagonet


Saoirse was finally by his side... with him... holding his
hand, looking down at him. It was good to feel her and to see
her face. But her eyes gave him a short apology... still wet
from possibly tears. Why was she crying? Something happened?
Dagonet once more frowned at her, but did not ask the
question. He would not do something like that in front of
others. Gods! How he wished to be somewhere else than
infirmary. He was too weak to leave the place.. .he knew
that... but even so he would take any possible chance to
leave.

Derfel
 
“You are most welcome, my friend. And the only duty you
be keeping me from is looking in on Linnesse and
Linnette,”


Dagonet looked at Derfel and slowly nodded his head. It was
good to know that the young knight was taking care of
Linnette, while Sarmatian was not able to do so. He once more
regretted that he could not be there for Linnette in any way.
And once more his mind went to that terrible moment when
Arthur told him about Gedeon's fall... when Dagonet himself
told Linnette about it. Those memories will stay with him till
the end of his days.

Saoirse
 
"No, no need nothin' Derfel, thanks though. G'wan on an'
get yerselves somethin' t'eat before it gets old."


Her voice was husky... heavy with emotions. Gods... she was
hurted! But about what? About Dagonet's state? About Gedeon's
death? About what?

If he could, Dagonet would take her in his arms and hide
themselfs from the rest of the world. They would just talk
freely... He would tell her how much he love her.. and how
much his heart is in pain... They would seek comfort in each
others warmth. He wished to wash away all of their pain and be
once more happy... He wished to smile... He wished to get over
the heartache and be himself. But they were long after being
ok... being themselfs... Everything gave them pain and they
could not be the same as before.. .never again.

It was a painful truth.

He looked back at her and squeezed weakly her hip in
assurence. He felt that he could sleep again... that his
weakness was overwhelming him once more. Sarmatian closed his
eyes briefly and oppened once more before looking at his lover
and giving her a grimace, which he wished it would be a smile.

Derfel
 
“Alright then…I’m sure these two need their rest,”


With that Dagonet looked at sleeping Bors and a ghost of smirk
passed his face. Bors was tough but it would seem the liquid
Lavinia gave him was strong enough to knock him out.

His head turned back and his sight once more went to the young
girl near. What was she doing here? Did she wanted anything?
He wanted to smile at her but nothing changed his grim
expression. It was too soon to smile... He attempted that with
Jols but it went just bad. He had no strenghts and will to be
happy, not so soon.

There was some commotions and DAgonet looked in the direction
Derfel had and saw coming his way Lavinia... Firstly he
thought that she was coming to trow his friends from the
infirmary to allow him his rest. But he noticed Lancelot
behind her... He liked the man, even if he was not the most
modest and kind of all people... but they had safed each
others lifes more than once. They were brothers in arms... It
was good to see him in a good shape.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 3:08 pm
Catherine


Titrus
 
“I have seen you before, but I am just recently widowed.
My wife died just 3 seasons ago. It has been quite a
while since I’ve held the company of a woman. You will
be my first lover since her death.”


Catherine tilted her head at his insistence, a lovely, lazy
smile upon her lips. She delighted in the touches of gentle
men, revelled in their want to touch her perfect skin, to
breathe in the heady fragrance of her. It made all her earlier
efforts feel worth it. She listened with half an ear to what
he said, giving a throaty but quiet moan as his tongue pressed
against her pulse, causing goosebumps to rise over her pale
skin.

Hearing the final sentence of his admission made Catherine's
green eyes open slowly. She looked at the ceiling, absorbing
the information, processing it. She never used such things
against a man, oh never that, but sometimes she might use such
things as leverage to get what she wanted.

Titrus
 
“I want to kiss you. Is that okay?”


The whore looked up at Titrus, diverting her far-away eyes
from the ceiling to his face, taking in the gentle look about
him. How was he such a soldier when he looked as if he would
not hurt a lamb? The blonde's lips parted when he cupped her
breast, her lovely white teeth visible as she held her breath,
enjoying the feel of his fingers against the fabric of the
dress. When she released the breath she was going to answer
his question but the breath was caught in her throat as he
clamped a hand to her backside, pulling her towards him.

The blonde lifted one foot off the ground instinctively,
hooking her heel into the back of his knee. The movement was
not quite wanton but it hinted at it certainly. Catherine
lifted her free hand and placed it on the man's neck, feeling
the heat building beneath his skin, the bristly hair of his
beard brushing her palm. She arched her back and bit her
bottom lip - assessing.... assessed.

She was not going to take charge here at all. The hand pinned
behind her back was evidence enough that Titrus wanted to be
the one in charge, and Catherine was more than happy to allow
this. Sinking back against the door, the blonde nodded her
head to his question -

"Yes - kiss me." she whispered, leaning her face in towards
his but not touching his lips, leaving the moment to him as
her hand slid down his chest and gave a gentle tug to his
tunic. "Anything." the whore told him, letting him know that
she was his in her entire bodily perfection until he wanted
otherwise. The soft breath that slipped past her parted lips
was hot, her words a little crackly from desire as she waited
for his touch. If she had it right then she thought that once
he took control that there would be little for her to do
except lie back and enjoy it - something that made her smile
in anticipation.











Amadeus

The Optio's features appeared more sharp and cruel as he
looked at Tristan with the woad in front of him on the horse,
their bodies so close as to be indecent. With an irritated,
disgusted tsk, the man looked away, glancing across the
terrain without emotion. There was a silly part of Amadeus
that made him think, for some reason, that he could not be
killed. He didn't fear the woads attacking. Why should he?
They would know better than to attack a Scipio!

Tristan
Neeria & Malcus
“Which way?"

"We are heading toward the sun. When we get to ridge of the black rocks, we must turn so that the sun is on this side, We will ride a short distance further until the trees divide and go this way, A short ride more into the trees and there will be the camp.”

”What the hell is she babbling about? Where is the heifer leading us?”


There was alot to be said for the communications between
Amadeus and Mordred. They were not childhood friends nor had
they fought together at any stage, yet their common need and
want to destroy Castus seemed to have created a bond, an
understanding between them. The Optio gave no sign of
recognition that the other noble had slipped behind, riding
with Barbattus and Tristan whilst he led the way. As was
right.

Mordred
 
"Toward impending doom, my friend. Is that not always
the case when these sub-human creatures are involved?
They speak in riddles, as you've heard, Perhaps she
simply needs to be persuaded into telling the truth,
hm?"


And again Amadeus did not involve himself in the 'witty'
banter of those behind him, those beneath him. He gave a chill
look over his shoulder and sniffed, glancing at the woad with
a distasteful sneer before looking back ahead.

"She had better be telling the truth, gentlemen. If I discover
a lie in her words she will not live long enough to scream in
pain." the man said in a cold voice, looking back at Tristan
above the woman's head, then over towards Barbattus - "I am
not as patient nor merciful as Arthur Castus by any stretch of
the imagination. One wrong move, one wrong word, one whiff of
something foul and you will regret the day your whore of a
mother ever set eyes on your father." the man said without
emotion, the cold, frosty words ringing sincere with impending
doom in the soggy surroundings, the rain easing off to a mere
drizzle.

Tensing his jaw, Amadeus looked ahead again and headed the
group towards the black rocks, his back straight, his grey
eyes set forward.








Drake

What had he done that made her giggle like that?!
Drake watched the light in her hazel eyes increase, the
embarrassed flush leave her cheeks and a more satisfied,
healthy glow took it's place instead. The Spaniard replayed
what had been said and done in his brain in a vain effort to
understand why she had laughed and how he could replicate the
situation in the future...

Linnette
 
"Ok."


And now the total opposite!

Drake watched in horror as her eyes filled up with tears. He
could see the tension in her lovely neck as she tried to hold
back the gush of sadness that he had, inadvertently, caused.
He remained very still, looking at her out of the corner of
his eye, lips parted as if he were to speak but nothing came
to mind.

Why was she crying now?!

He was not so blind or dumb to women that he thought he had
said something to upset her, that he had said the wrong thing,
but he was not so savvy with them that he knew precisely what
was bringing about this change her nature.

They didn't look like tears of happiness and yet they were not
despair either.

Linnesse
 
"Linnette! Oh, Linnette,"


Her appreciative hazel eyes were on him, distracting him from
the fact that her hand was inching towards his. Drake saw
movement and glanced down, watching her pale fingers, feeling
like his heart had suddenly leapt into his throat, he held his
breath, waiting for that contact that would ensnare him for
ever more, but it didn't come. He was so busy looking at her
hand inching towards his that Drake had no noticed someone
else coming into the tavern. It was only when Linnesse cried
out to her sister and came across the room embracing her that
the Spaniard released the breath he had been holding and
snatched his hand from teh counter top, placing it flat
against his thigh, the muscles in his arm so tight they looked
like they might pop.

Drake tensed his jaw, uncomfortable, awkward, looking away
from the embracing sisters, staring at a point behind the
counter. He glanced to the side and saw Linnette peering at
him from above her sister's shoulder. He looked away but was
at a loss to find any strength vivacious enough to prevent his
green eyes swivelling to hers once more. And when they did he
saw her smile.

It drained the tension from his body.

Drake's shoulders sagged and he let out a slow, long breath,
giving the red-head a half smile. He turned back to the
counter properly then, using the chunk of bread to wipe around
the inside of the bowl whilst the two sisters reacquainted
themselves with each other. He remained a silent presence
behind them both.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 4:01 pm
Eyla


The flames of the fire licked against the stone fireplace,
sending shadows dancing along the ancient walls. They blessed
Eyla’s skin with a darker luster, and coloured her eyes liquid
black. Her brown hair appeared alive, twisting and twirling as
the curls fell from her neck…and her golden bangle sparkled in
the firelight. The woman’s dress had been pulled up to her
thighs, exposing a smooth and silken leg as she leant over the
Roman Commander. Oh, such a perfect picture of paradise! Eyla
was no conventional beauty, she was foreign and exotic…and her
mind was alive with promises of seduction and pleasure. Did
the woman have a conscience? No, and no again. Artorius Castus
was the only man that did not fall prey to her charms, to her
beauty, but she hoped he would. Christians were always more
fun. Eyla fancied herself the perfect angel, beckoning men
into Damnation with open legs. And why not? Life was too short
for the boundaries of religion…and too fun. Oh always fun.
Eyla had lived a lifetime already, and experiences did never
end. Not really. Not in her choice of career.

Artorius represented intrigue, the unknown, because Eyla did
not know him well. She could play all men. She knew their
wants, their desires, and she knew how to manipulate the
senses to her own gains…but Artorius? It was not so simple at
all.

As her slim finger traced the dewy crevices of his muscular
chest, he did not rebuke her for it. No, he allowed it to
happen, and it was a small achievement. Her eyes danced
wickedly, in celebration…but how far could she push it? Truly?
This man had morals…unfortunately…

But surely he had desires? And what were they?

Arthur
 
“I see, How thoughtful of you, my dear,”


Oh, but she was thoughtful! Did he not realize? Eyla lived for
these games, and she put her heart and soul into them. When
patrons paid well, she did everything in her power to be
memorable, to be the best…and she was. The woman was
beautiful, and she had the body of a goddess. Was that not
thoughtful and kind of her?

Eyla parted her lips to respond, but paused when he grimaced.
A tiny frown creased her pretty features, and she glanced down
as he pressed a hand to his injured side. So this was the
cause of his discomfort? Careless Romans and their wounds…tsk.


Arthur
 
“Come now, Eyla, surely you have no shortage of
palatable suitors, If you truly ‘care’ for me, then you
will help me best by handing me that mug of water
there.”


The Roman pushed her hand away, and Eyla feigned
disappointment. She pouted her lips sulkily, and looked at him
pleadingly. Gods, why was he so boring? Indeed, it would be
easier to just give in and have her. But then…Eyla loved the
game, she lived for it. Artorius believed that she would grow
bored, perhaps? Impossible. Eyla quite liked the thrill of the
chase, it made things interesting. The woman wanted to yearn,
wanted to lust with every part of her slender and beautiful
body…because then the release would be sweeter. The woman
breathed a shallow breath from her sullen and pouted lips, and
then…laughed. Loudly, clearly. She threw her head backwards
and her dark hair cascaded down her back. The woman would not
be dismissed so easily, and she liked this game, she enjoyed
his sudden attack of conscience. Did God tell him that Eyla
was Sin? Oh, she hoped so…

“As you wish…Artorius…” She whispered. Eyla slipped her naked
knee from his bed, and felt her skirts cover her tanned
ankles. The woman stood before him, and made a curtsy. It was
a sweet thing, an amusing show of obedience and servitude…and
yet, Eyla made it a complete mockery. She bowed her chin
respectfully, but looked up at him through her curly hair. Her
eyes spoke volumes for flirtation. Dark lashes, sparkling
eyes…Oh, but she looked a picture! Turning slightly, she took
the mug carefully in her hands. Careful not to spill it.
“Indeed, suitors are a-plenty in this God-forsaken place, but
none are as demanding and handsome as you….” She paused,
dabbing a single finger into the mug. The water was warm, and
Eyla bought her wet finger to her lips. She sucked the water
gently from her skin, and cocked her head to the side.

She regarded the Roman, and did not immediately hand over the
water. Her expression was innocent, child-like. She spoke
again, a slight smile on her lips.

“I was quite concerned for your wellbeing when I came in,
Artorius. Normally I would simply rob the man and be done with
it…but you?” She breathed a laugh. “I think you seek to
inspire my conscience into action, when most men celebrate my
lack of hesitation…and shameless behaviour…”

She held the mug out to him, winking one eye.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 7:25 pm
Lancelot


Lancelot gazed at the nun, realizing she had the type of spunk
for him to actually have an interesting conversation with.
Unfortunately for her, she'd have to miss that particular
pleasure, as Lancelot really just wanted to see to Dags and
get the fuck out of the infirmary. He tried to quell the
slight tremoring in his hands - fuck it, it was the chill from
the rain - by gripping harder at his blades.

Mother Lavinia
 
“Well why didn’t you say so? How is the Commander
doing?”


Lancelot smiled toothily, despite his hatred of this place and
his exhaustion and true worry at the thought again of Arthur.
As he followed the nun, he was however happy to see Dagonet
seemed to be awake, and surrounded by a few members of
Arthur's Table and the red-head woman that was Dagonet's
lover.

Lancelot twisted his mouth and debated just how much to tell
the nun in response to her question about Arthur - the
commander wouldn't want others to think he was weak or badly
injured, no matter the severity of his wound. He tossed his
head and tried to act nonchalant as he answered. "He is abed,
and being cared for by one of yours, Neeve. He runs no fever,
and should be back on his very large and capable feet as soon
as he can, I'd wager. In the meantime, you may use me as your
liason to him should you need one, the servant of 'God.'" He
couldn't help but cock a damp eyebrow and allow his lips to
curve gracefully - which dropped as he caught sight of just
who exactly was with Dagonet as they arrived at his bedside.

"Derfel."

If sarcasm could be seen, then the speaking of the knight's
name as it was torn from the Sarmatian's lips would have shown
as black and icy. Lancelot didn't hate the other man - he
thought - but he was a Saxon, and the son of the enemy that
had almost brought down Lancelot's commander and closest
friend. and someone I love. He tilted his head and looked at
the other man. "What do you here, knight? Shouldn't you be
seeing to your woman and her sister?" His gaze passed from
Derfel to the man next to him - a man he'd never seen
(Lucius) and then on to Dagonet and Saoirse. He turned
briefly to the nun, and took up her hand, his charm coming off
him in reeking waves. No matter his state of mind, or the fact
that he knew he was being false. Who cared?

"Sister, thank you for allowing me to pass - and trust me,
your services to the commander will not go unnoticed. Also
trust me when I say I will not tarry long here nor bother your
patients. I am in your debt." He stopped short of kissing her
hand; even Lancelot knew when certain ladies had their limits.
He smiled prettily and turned his back to her - effectively
dismissing her. Lancelot had achieved his goal, and when he
did not need the tools of said achieving, he was quick to
forget them, just like a child with more than one toy.

Pity that he did not realize his loss in this behavior.

"Dags," he said, moving closer to the bed. "Saoirse. I'm sure
Arthur would appreciate you taking care of our man here." This
time there was no sarcasm in his tone; Lancelot was also
appreciative that the large knight had such good family about
him. He'd need it.

"Arthur sends his greetings and thanks, old man," he flashed
his teeth at Dagonet. "How do you fare?"
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Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 8:37 pm
Vanora


She did have to admit that she talked a lot, but she felt that
what she said may, or may not be informative to others. The
tavern, to her, was to talk of events and trade information if
necessary. One piece of information, that of the whereabouts
of Thorn's body, she felt could ease Adian's mind....or at
least she hoped it would. The sound of Neeve clearing her
throat brought Vanora out of her thoughts...

Neeve
 
“Well, I don’t think I know this Adian…or this Thorn for
that matter…and the Woad attacks have brought death to
several people at Badon… Was the woman…was she a blonde?
There was one in the infirmary the other night but I
have no idea where the body is now…”


Vanora's eyebrow raised in hopefulness, though the news of so
many lost was, as always, not a good thing to hear what with
all of the other tragic things that had happened today so far.
"Yes, she had wheat colored hair....slightly taller than
myself..." Vanora stopped before she went too far as Neeve,
nor she guessed, anyone else, did not know where the body had
been taken. No doubt to a massive burial pit, though such a
brave soul as Thorn deserved something better....

Neeve
 
“…and…ah…I certainly don’t want to pillage your
kitchen…so…” “So…a small bowl of soup should do for
me…and a bigger one with some bread for my patient if
that is possible…” “And…how is Bors?”


Seeing a wench standing next to her, Vanora nodded to the
young woman to go and fetch the order straight away telling
the wench to make sure there were two big bowls and plenty of
bread before the wench disappeared through the doors, and
Vanora turned back to Neeve, "Your meals should be up in no
time, Neeve." At the mention of Bors' name though, Vanora
began to worry. She had only seen him briefly before leaving
the tavern. The red head moved to the side to draw another ale
while addressing the young healer, "Haven't seen Bors but
about a half hour when the group came back from
battle....haven't seen him since. Suppose he is alright....had
a nasty wound on his leg though. Perhaps he got smart and went
to the infirmary...."










Brendyn

So far, in his duties, he had made a friend in the servant who
was cleaning the latrines as well, had been pissed on the leg
by a bratty little boy, had thrown up what he had not
eaten....for that matter had had had nothing to eat since
arriving at the fort the night before. Brendyn placed the
bucket in its place, and looked about at how much cleaner it
looked. He thought back to the chain of events that brought
him a less than stellar impression on his new bosses.....and
he thought it weird that he had not seen Arthur yet. His deep
blue eyes looked up to a spot where he could see the gray
rainy looking sky....Spring would be here soon. The way he
looked right now, no woman would give a plug nickel to be seen
with him.

All because of two woads....the gentle loving care they had
been given even though they lived to kill. He had been taught
not to trust the enemy....no matter how young. The way the nun
had coddled them and made them feel right at home...while he
had been made to look like nothing less than the shit he
cleaned up. Brendyn knew he could have just killed them as
they deserved....so many innocent lives had been lost, and the
woads never seemed to care...nor would they ever.

Perhaps he had just seen the situation through his eyes....and
in those he felt that he had acted properly. Had Antonius
trained him wrong then where the enemy was concerned? Brendyn
chuckled slightly and shook his head. There was so much he
felt now that he needed to be retrained on...
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golden_trillium

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Author: linnet
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 8:43 pm
Mother Lavinia


Lancelot
 
"He is abed, and being cared for by one of yours, Neeve.
He runs no fever, and should be back on his very large
and capable feet as soon as he can, I'd wager. In the
meantime, you may use me as your liason to him should
you need one, the servant of 'God.'"


Lavinia gave a cursory snort. Out of all those words the only
ones that were of any importance to her were that Artorius was
not running a fever. She already was aware that he had
requested Neeve to care for him, and that he had been injured
badly enough to be laid up. The nun shot a puzzled frown at
the knight when he referred to his Commander’s feet as very
large. What a strange and disrespectful comment. But not
surprising coming from Lancelot. Some liaison he would be, as
if she would ever need one. She doubted he could convey a
message as stated if his life depended on it. The words would
be embellished, the content and the sender evaluated bruatlly
as the message was delivered.

As they arrived at the group gathered around Dagonet’s cot,
Lavinia looked pointedly at Saoirse. The woman had not only
disappeared from where she should have been, but it was
obvious that she had been crying. The old woman understood
that there was some attachment between the red-head and
Dagonet, but still, one had to remain professional. She would
have to have a talk with the young lady after things settled
down. Lavinia had serious doubts that Saoirse was cut out to
work in the infirmary.

Besides Saoirse, Derfel and the soldier that Lavinia had
previously shooed off were back. Bors was still in the next
cot. And standing close by, gathering smiles, was the younger
of the abandoned sisters. Lavinia thought back to recall the
name that the older girl had called her sibling. The verbose
knight exchanged some sarcasm-tinged words with Derfel before
he turned his attention back to the nun.

Lancelot
 
"Sister, thank you for allowing me to pass - and trust
me, your services to the commander will not go
unnoticed. Also trust me when I say I will not tarry
long here nor bother your patients. I am in your debt."


Lavinia rolled her eyes heavenward. “You’re not in my debt –
you’re in my infirmary. And I will trust you to stay no longer
than needed, any of you,” she said sternly before adding
“except Saoirse.” It was easy to see that Dagonet was still
weak and in need of rest. She hoped the others had enough
sense to realize that. and find some other place to
congregate. As for her, seeing the little girl reminded her
that she had important business to take care of.

“Come with me, Fleur,” she said, raising her voice enough so
that the child would hear her over the distraction of the
others, but trying not to sound threatening. Lavinia turned
and took a few steps away from the gathering, then hesitated
and looked back to see if Fleur was coming along.
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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sun Jun 15, 2008 9:01 pm
Merlin


Ceinwyn
 
“I shall draw strength from your words, then.”


“I am glad to hear it,” responded Merlin easily, but as they
joined the column, he kept watching Ceinwyn surreptitiously
out of the corner of his eye. Not a thing escaped his notice-
not the dullness in her eyes, the mechanical quality of her
movements, the hand on her dagger hilt that seemed to indicate
some unease. All was not right with her- though Merlin did not
know what she would do, or how else this “not-right”ness would
manifest itself. Watchful caution was called for here. After a
few moments of walking, Merlin dropped back to several paces
behind Ceinwyn, drawing even once more with Juna, who he had
been walking near when he had first veered off to investigate
the strange figure sitting under the tree. He said nothing,
but shot Juna a rather dark look, accompanied by a nod towards
Ceinwyn- he didn’t want to discuss it in the middle of all
these people, but he wanted to let Juna know that there all
was not quite right.












Tristan

Neeria
 
“We are heading toward the sun. When we get to ridge of
the black rocks, we must turn so that the sun is on this
side. We will ride a short distance further until the
trees divide and go this way. A short ride more into the
trees and there will be the camp.”


Malcus
 
”What the hell is she babbling about? Where is the
heifer leading us?”


Mordred
 
"Toward impending doom, my friend. Is that not always
the case when these sub-human creatures are involved?
They speak in riddles, as you've heard. Perhaps she
simply needs to be persuaded into telling the truth,
hm?"


Amadeus
 
"She had better be telling the truth, gentlemen. If I
discover a lie in her words she will not live long
enough to scream in pain. I am not as patient nor
merciful as Arthur Castus by any stretch of the
imagination. One wrong move, one wrong word, one whiff
of something foul, and you will regret the day your
whore of a mother ever set eyes on your father."


Tristan let the talk float over his head as they rode on; all
his thoughts were on the woman’s directions, the woman
herself, to see that she did not attempt escape or anything
else, and of course the surroundings. The other three could
speculate and wonder and threaten all they wanted to- but the
only things that really mattered where what actually happened,
and that was what Tristan was much more prepared to deal with
anyway. His whole body was tense with alertness, his ears
pricked for the slightest untoward noise, his eyes for the
merest glimpse of a sign of human presence- but aside from the
damnable babbling of the Romans in his own party, there was
nothing. No Woads in these woods at all, as far as he could
tell- and that was a worrisome sign, when Neeria purported to
be leading them towards the main camp. Worry pricked at the
corners of his consciousness, and he looked over towards the
Optio as they rode past the divide in the trees that Neeria
had described. They should be very close now.

“No scouts here. Sir.” He informed the Optio tersely of the
absence of the Woads he would have expected to nearly surround
them in the trees by now. He kept a portion of his brain
focused on the reactions of Neeria, hoping that she would give
away some reaction to what was- or wasn’t- happening- but so
far he could discern nothing that helped him figure out her
purpose. She was nervous, but she had been that ever since she
had gotten within ten feet of a horse. It could mean anything
or nothing.












Linnette and Linnesse

“Are you all right?” Oblivious to anything that had just
passed between Linnette and Drake, Linnesse broke the embrace,
stepping backwards with her hands still on Linnette’s
shoulders, looking searchingly into her sister’s eyes.
Linnette summoned a reassuring half-smile- though it came with
a resigned sigh- as she started to explain the room situation
to Linnesse- noting out of the corner of her eye that Drake
was now downing the last of his soup and bread, apparently not
disposed to be directly involved in the conversation for now,
though Linnette could tell that he was listening. She was glad
he was still there- albeit silently.

“Apparently I can’t stay in my old room anymore. It’s needed
for soldiers. Amadeus said so.” She sighed exasperatedly, the
volume of her voice growing a little as she vented her
frustration with the situation.

“However, for some reason I can’t understand, there’s a
two-room apartment in the knights’ quarters I could have, but
only if I find someone to share it with. It makes no sense-
why not just give the two-room to the soldiers who need it so
much? And I don’t have anyone to share with!” She tightened
her fist on that last phrase, preparatory to hitting it
against her other hand as she often did when angry or
frustrated- and was given a sharp reminder, in the form of
pain, that both her hands were injured. She winced and inhaled
sharply in reaction, but then quickly composed herself and
dismissed Linnesse’s worried look towards her bandaged hands
with a quick gesture. She would tell Linnesse later- but she
didn’t want to get into that now. She exhaled again in utter
exasperation, then realized belatedly that Linnesse was still
standing- and she really shouldn’t be.

“Here, sit down, Linnesse. How are you feeling?” She slid off
her own stool as she said it and gestured her sister towards
it. It was the only place to sit right where they were- she
had taken the stool at the end of the bar, and the one next to
it was currently occupied by Drake. It didn’t matter, though-
she’d almost rather stand, now that she was keyed up again.

“I’m fine, really…I had a long nap.” Linnesse looked for a
moment like she would refuse the proffered stool, but Linnette
gestured more insistently, and took a step back, towards Drake
instead, showing that she had no claim on the chair- and
Linnesse sat down then, indicating to Linnette that perhaps
she was more tired than she was willing to admit.

“I’m not going to have you falling over again- let me get you
some food.” Linnette said firmly- and Linnesse made no sign of
protesting over that, either. As the red-haired sister
disappeared into the kitchen, Linnesse, perched on the stool,
looked over towards Drake and gave him a faint, curious smile.
She really wasn’t sure what he was doing here- was it only
coincidence that he happened to be eating his lunch here at
the same time that Linnette was, or had he walked her here
after Arthur’s and just stayed? Or something in between? Not
knowing the situation, Linnesse wasn’t sure what to say to
him; she cleared her throat indecisively and finally decided
on the most bland, socially correct comment possible-
something about the weather.

“Well- thank goodness the rain’s finally stopping,” she
remarked brightly. Really, what she hoped for was that the man
would comment on the reason for his presence without her
having to get nosy and ask- but to indicate that would be to
be, well…nosy.
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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Mon Jun 16, 2008 8:11 am
Mona


Mona and Guinevere watched as Neeria rode out of the stables,
through the commons, toward the fortress gates. Mona was
stunned by what she saw. What on earth was Neeria doing?
Surely she wasn’t…

“Where do you think they’re going?” she whispered to
Guinevere. Mona scooped up her gear, which was getting
extremely heavy, and she and Guinevere made a beeline back
across the area they’d just come from, making their way back
to the side gate. Fortunately, no one had detected that the
gate had been tampered with. Both women crouched down, their
backs against the Wall.

“Princess, we will have to leave Connell and Ash will have to
rescue Eala on his own so that we can track Neeria and the
others before they get too far from us,” she said hurriedly.
Getting back to the woods without being detected would be a
problem now that the rain had stopped and there was daylight.
Mona poked her head out from their hiding place and looked
upwards, craning her neck to check the ramparts. She could
clearly see 3 guards roving patrol. Guinevere had a disguise
but Mona did not. The only way Mona would make it to the tree
line would be if Guinevere could distract the guards while the
other woman made a run for it.

“Guinevere, you will have to distract them,” Mona said looking
up, “and I may have to leave some of these things behind” she
added, shaking her shoulders, allowing her packs to fall to
the ground.

Inwardly, Mona was disgusted. Where was the group going? They
were heading in the direction of the camp. There were 3 Romans
and one other – the one who carried Neeria. He was scrubby and
not Roman perhaps he was a local or a even a knight. Was
Neeria leading them to Merlin as Mona had suspected all along?
The woad’s blue eyes flashed. This new development might
change things completely. Perhaps Mona wouldn’t have to
dispatch Neeria at all. Merlin would do it himself once he
found out she had betrayed had him. Perfect!!, she chuckled to
herself.

Mona looked back at Guinevere, her thoughts not betraying her
blank expression. “What should we do?”
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Author: Pinkie
Date: Mon Jun 16, 2008 8:59 am
Galahad


Galahad looked at the food that was in front of him and his
stomach gave a gurgle of anticipation. Yes, yes he was hungry.
Such a practical thing to feel given the circumstances. The
young Knight skooched forward on his bench and placed his
elbows on the table. He glanced up as the serving wench waited
with her hand open. Blue eyes swivelled from Gawain to the
wench and back again. Until he realised that he was getting
this round.

With a tsk, not at Gawain but at the situation, Galahad rifled
around the pouch at his waist and frowned. He pulled the ties
loose and tugged the little pouch free, upending it onto the
wooden table. A few coins tinkled out, a few thin strips of
leather, a bit of fluff, gravel and an acorn.

The Sarmatian poked the money free from the other bits and
pushed them to the edge of teh table.

"There." he snapped at the wench who gathered the coins and
went on her way. Galahad used the edge of his hand to gather
all the bits of pieces back together, sliding them off the
edge of the table into the waiting pouch. A small thunk was
heard and the Knight glanced down between this feet, black
hair falling forward.

Gawain
 
“Eat, Listen, Whatever you decide to do about Alina,
make sure you’re sober when you do it.”


Gawain's voice made Galahad look up from his search for the
missing thing from his pouch. He was not focussed though, his
head falling forward as he shifted back in his seat, reaching
down to find what it was that fell. The blonde knight's advice
went in one ear and lodged in a petulant part of his brain
before sidling out the other side as his fingers clasped
around the acorn.

"Damn it." he muttered, plonking the thing onto the table
before looking up at Gawain. His face scrunched up defensively
and he brushed a hand back against his forehead, into his hair
to get it out of his eyes. "And of course I'll do it sober.
I'll go find him after this - " he gestured to the stew, "Then
I'll tell him what's ... " he was muttering as Alina
approached. His words trailed off and he looked up at the dark
beauty.

Alina
 
"Hi there,"


Petulant didn't come close!

Galahad's eyes snapped to Gawain and he looked back up at
Alina, over at Gawain, back to Alina before he let his bottom
lip pout outwards and he shrugged his shoulder a little,
shifting his position minutely. It didn't occur to Galahad
that the woman had no idea what was going on, that she didn't
know that he had seen her with Kolya. Even if his brain had
been functioning properly Galahad would still have presumed
her guilt and given her the cold shoulder nonetheless.

"Hi." he said miserably, obviously discontented with
something. He sniffed loudly and hunched his shoulders
forward, surrounding his bowl of stew with his entire body as
he dipped the spoon in, turning it as he glanced
surreptitiously towards Gawain. A part of the youngest Knight
knew he should go talk to Alina instead of sitting sulking and
giving her the cold shoulder - but he just couldn't bring
himself to be a grown up about this when he hurt in a very
real, deep sense.
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Author: Darya
Date: Mon Jun 16, 2008 11:32 am

Neeve


Vanora
 
"Yes, she had wheat colored hair....slightly taller than
myself..."


The Briton nodded pensively at Vanora’s description of this
Thorn… Apparently, the female lifeless body she had seen in
the infirmary was that woman. Not that she could recall the
person’s height…and even if she could, seeing that Neeve
herself was rather tall for a woman and could literally look
down on most members of her gender, the expression 'slightly
taller than' was relative for her… However, there was nothing
helpful the healer could tell Vanora about Thorn…not really.
“Well, I guess it was her then…”, the raven-haired said in a
dry tone and stiffly licked her lips, “…I’m sorry I can’t give
you more information…but I had to leave the infirmary in quite
a hurry that night… Maybe you can ask one of the nuns…” And
with that, she gave Vanora a faint, almost apologetic smile
before watching the redhead signalize one of the serving maids
to take care of her order…

Vanora
 
"Your meals should be up in no time, Neeve. Haven't seen
Bors but about a half hour when the group came back from
battle....haven't seen him since. Suppose he is
alright....had a nasty wound on his leg though. Perhaps
he got smart and went to the infirmary...."


“Thanks…”, the healer murmured but then narrowed her blue eyes
slightly when Vanora mentioned Bors' injury. Well, at least
the man had gone to the infirmary. It was not exactly a given
that the knights went their voluntarily. Immediately,
Lancelot’s rather defiant behavior of last night came to her
mind…at least when it had come to his injured arm. Dagonet and
Galahad seemed to be the only uncomplicated patients of the
Sarmatians…it had been that way all those years ago…and
obviously still was. Unconsciously, the woman smirked to
herself at those thoughts and snorted quietly before focusing
on Vanora again.

“I’m glad to hear Bors let someone see to his leg…”, she then
replied with a nod, “…no doubt he’ll be at his best again
soon. As usual…” With that, Neeve grinned wryly…surely Vanora
would understand since the redhead belonged to the few people
of Badon that Neeve knew and who knew the knights as long as
she did. “Any of the kids got harmed during the attack?”, the
raven-haired then inquired and arched an eyebrow at Vanora.
She knew that there was nothing worse than children getting
into the middle of an attack…
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Author: Eledhwen
Date: Mon Jun 16, 2008 11:39 am

Bors


Bors slowly drifted back to consciousness, hearing the low
rumble of voices from close by. His head was thumping, and he
groaned, bringing one hand up to squeeze his eyes with thick
fingers.

Where was he...? It all slowly began to seep back into his
befuddled brain, and he tried to open one eye, shifting up on
the pillow as he did so.

The infirmary... that was it... what the bloody hell had that
vicious cow given him? Whatever it was it had knocked him
right ou...

"OW!"

Bloody hell that hurt...

He stopped trying to move and lowered his hand to his thigh
instead, touching the tender flesh around the bandage wrapped
tightly round his wound. Gritting his teeth, he opened both
eyes to a squint, and tipped his head to one side to see who
was making all the noise.

The first sight to meet his bleary gaze was the messy red
locks of a woman, and for a moment he brightened at the
thought that Vanora had come to see him. Then he realised it
was Saoirse, and he huffed grumpily, a scowl clouding his
already crumpled expression.

What was she doing here? Was Dag alright...?

He turned his head more to look at his friend, and saw the
light in his tired eyes that hadn't been there before. A noise
by the door had him turning too quickly, sending sharp daggers
through his head, and he winced before opening his eyes again
to gaze upon Lancelot as he appeared by the bed.

"Hmph!" he snorted, and turned away, uncaring of the pain in
his leg the movement caused. He didn't want to see that
bastard. No doubt now they were back he'd be draping himself
all over Vanora again, and at the minute Bors couldn't do a
bloody thing about it, not with this leg.
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