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| June 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,693 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:24 AM Post #256 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 7:54 am Quintus
Finally, an officer on the scene! Quintus greeted Lieutenant Titrus's arrival, adjusting his armor as though he had just put it on, with some relief, though it didn't show on his hard-carved face. There were soldiers dashing hither and thither, organizing to start quartering the buildings (and meanwhile, across the courtyard, the fight seemed to be expanding, with Gawain now in the mix), but still no sign of the little Woad girl. Damn it! She couldn't have gotten that far, could she? "Little Woad girl escaped, sir. A man was bringing her food- I was farther down at the deep guard post- I heard something and I came up to find her door open and his throat slit!" Quintus maintained his stiff, military posture, though inwardly he was cringing with having to admit it. This was a complete disaster- and on his watch, too! "The front guards..." now here was the really painful part. Quintus felt almost like a new recruit again, scolded for not having his equipment in order- but damn it, how was he supposed to have known that the bloody idiots would leave their post? The Centurion shrugged and plunged onward, getting all the rest of the bad news out. "Some other girl came up to them and said her sister was being attacked, so they went to help her. They weren't there when the Woad bitch got out. I'll make sure they regret it. Sir." Quintus concluded his tale, then noticed out of the corner of his eye that Brendyn, apparently another example of a bloody stupid idiot, was still standing slightly behind him, as though waiting for something else to be said to him. "GET GOING, SOLDIER!!" the Centurion bawled in Brendyn's face, venting his anger with the whole situation in his deafening shout. Christ's balls, what did they teach them at Aesica?? Not how to obey orders, apparently. Merlin
"No, you should..." Merlin started in on a vehement protest, starting to give her shoulders an emphatic shake- but no. Deliberately, he forced himself to open his fingers, to take his hands off her shoulders and put them down. By the determined set of her mouth and eyes, this might be a drawn-out argument should he choose to pursue it, and he didn't have time for arguments. And besides, she had a point, in a fashion. A healer was never useless, and among healers, she was the best. But if anything happened to her- the sick feeling re-tightened his grip on his stomach. It was hard, sometimes, to submit to the will of the Gods- and it was hard not to know it, in moments like these. "Fine. But stay well back." Merlin exhaled on a resigned, yet irritated, note and dropped his eyes to make sure that she was carrying her shoulder bag with her basic supplies. She was, so he unceremoniously grabbed her hand and practically towed her with him as he began to stride against the direction of the column, picking out the other warriors he wanted in his party as they went. These were not the best available- Nolan had taken those- and many had minor wounds, or were younger or older- but they would all stand by him, he was confident. They would do what they had to do, and allow those more seriously wounded, and the noncombatants, to get to safety. Once Merlin had assembled about twenty, he gave instructions to them for continuing back down the path toward Nolan's group, keeping to the brush until they knew what they would find there. It was only when he had finished speaking that Merlin reaized he was still clutching Juna's hand, hard and apprehensively. Once again he forced his fingers to open, to drop it and let her have her freedom of movement back. "Sorry," he mouthed at her, abashed, as his fingers slid free. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:26 AM Post #257 |
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Author: Darya Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 8:45 am Neeve
Neeve smirked slightly. “Well, you know where to find me if you change your mind…”, the healer replied with a firm nod and let her blue gaze lock with Gawain’s for a moment. She knew he would seek her out if necessary. He always had…
“Thank you, Vanora…”, the Briton said and gave the other woman a faint smile and a grateful nod, “I’m sure your efforts in putting this meal together will be very appreciated…” With that, the raven-haired woman turned around with every intention to leave the tavern with Gawain by her side…but then…
Yes, Neeve saw it, too. The argument between Alina and Galahad had become a bit more…spicy…and had also turned into some kind of team contest it seemed. She saw Lancelot’s curly head…and another man who she could not quite place right now (Kolya) but who apparently was the new target of Galahad’s anger. The healer’s blue eyes narrowed but before she could react herself, she felt the basket with the food pressed into her arms and could only watch Gawain move…most likely to Galahad’s aid. “Gawain, not with that injured arm of yours…!”, the Briton called after him and then glanced at Vanora, giving the redhead a rather unnerved look which was clearly caused by the men’s’ behavior. Then Neeve placed the basket back onto the counter and approached the scuffling ball of male individuals… She was very tempted to drag at least Gawain out of there…and Lancelot. Both men were injured and another fight would not be helpful for their recovering. But she was a healer…and not a fighter…thus the raven-haired woman changed her direction in the last moment possible and walked over to Alina instead. The other woman looked miserable to say the least…and Neeve instinctively just put a hand on Alina’s shoulder as she came to a halt beside her. “Isn’t it enough that we have to fight the Woads here these days? Do you have to fight each other of that?”, Neeve barked into the men’s direction before focusing on Alina. “Are you okay?”, the healer then asked the dark-haired in a way calmer voice and glanced down at the sitting woman, “…or did you get hit as well?” |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:27 AM Post #258 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 10:45 am Bors Bors didn't like the way she was whispering in his ear... it was sneaky, secretive, and also damn bloody obvious that she was talking about him the way Dag glanced over at him out of the corner of his eye before bending his head to speak to her. Maybe it was just the pain in his leg making him extra grumpy, or the stuff that witch had forced him to drink, but he sure as hell was cranky. He wanted Vanora to make him all better. A small smile twitched onto his lips as he thought of all the ways his woman could make him feel a lot better, and was still smiling when Dagonet spoke.
Bors pursed his lips and pouted crossly. Who'd she think she was, Telling him what to do? He had a mind just to get up and walk out anyway, just to show her... if only his leg wasn't still killing. "I'm gettin' too bloody old for all this Dag," he replied, shifting his bulk a little further up on the course pillow. "I should be at 'ome now wiv me feet up an' a flagon of ale, Vanora tendin' to me every need, not stuck in 'ere full of bloody Woad poison." He grinned ruefully, then through a scowl at Saoirse's red hair for good luck. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:33 AM Post #259 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 11:57 am Saoirse Saoirse felt like sleeping. From the way Dagonet shifted beneath her slight weight when she spoke, she figured he wanted to sleep too. If only it were in a more private place, somewhere where it was just the two of them. It felt like weeks since she had been with him just on his own. And due to his injury it would prove to be days at least before he was allowed to go back to his own rooms. The thoughts of staying in the infirmary for that length of time was... painful. Though it would give her a chance to learn a bit...
The red head grimaced when her lover addressed Bors over her head. She was sure that the other Knight would know now that she had been asking about him - and of course Dagonet had not quite understood her quetsion. She didn't mean what was physically wrong with him... she had meant more along the lines of why he was glaring a hole in the back of her head. She sucked her lips together and shut her blue eyes as Dagonet spoke to teh other man. She half paid attention as Bors responded --
Saoirse gave a wry grin at the image. Her head tilted backwards and she opened her sleepy blue eyes to look at Dagonet. Would he be satisfied in a life like that? The smile slowly faded from her lips but she did not look sad, she looked... considerate. Would he be satisfied with a life like that? She knew that she wouldn't be. That kind of life would make her go stir-crazy. She would as sooner eat her own foot than settle down so permanently, so life-lessly. It wasn't that she wanted to be out in the thick of things for the rest of her life, but she also didn't want to sit back and just watch her life amble past her at a snail's pace whilst waiting for death. Kolya and Galahad
Oh come on!! As if he had any say in this at all!! Kolya fell in a tangle of limbs outside in the courtyard. He was relentless in hitting Galahad though - his fist balling up tightly and landing solid punches on the younger man's side. Once or twice he managed to lift his knee high enough to engage the man's ribcage. Galahad was more a sprawling irritation atop him than a menace in a brawl but Kolya wasn't going to just sit back and let the little shit attempt to pummel him! A hand grasped his shoulder and Kolya almost welcomed the break in teh fight, his chest tight with the pain of breathing so hard after his sickness earlier. His eyes were seeing silver stars as he glanced over at the blonde knight. His teeth were bared in a snarl at what the other man said -
"A fair fucking fight!?" he snapped, about to continue with something in defense of the fact that he didn't start the damn fight when Galahad's arms wrapped about his lower legs and he fell to teh ground again. Galahad swivelled his agile body to the side and he scampered to his feet, finally feeling like he was getting the hang of this situation when arms about his waist sent him flying, landing on top of Kolya.
Galahad was not going to give up though. With a brutal, pained snarl he started to kick at Kolya, completely ignorant of Alina's pain even though he was told it by Lancelot, ignorant of the fact that half his punches were landing on Lancelot and Gawain rather than on Kolya, ignorant of the cat-call from Neeve back inside the tavern. There were other people joining in teh mix too - creating an out-of-hand brawl in front of the tavern. The youngest Sarmatian Knight turned towards Lancelot who was holding his waist. "Let me fucking go!" he cried out, slamming his fist into the First Knight's... shoulder, though he had intended it to be his face. He staggered drunkenly to one side and tripped over Kolya's feet, ending up elbowing Gawain in the stomach. One of his arms was crossed over his own stomach, holding the wound in his stomach together as best he could though he could barely feel pain in it now - all he could feel was anger, indignation, embarrassment... "This is between me and this piece of shit!" Galahad declared loudly, pointing at the fallen figure of Kolya. The older Sarmatian growled and lashed out with his feet, kicking Galahad's shins before launching forward against the man's middle, knocking Lancelot, Gawain and Galahad over in one smooth, brutal shove of his broad shoulders. Drake Drake really wished she wouldn't do that... The smile she had upon her lips was sad, so sad - it was heartbreaking. And he knew she mustered it for his benefit. He didn't need to see her smile, not when her heart was breaking. HE would rather take her as she was at face value and not have to discern the agony in her heart by looking into her hazel eyes. There was no need for those smiles. He wouldn't be scared away by black loss. When she turned to him he had his eyes downcast, looking at the slack tapestry sitting on the bed, his fingers itching to roll it up properly and stack it by the door ready for moving to the next room. Once Drake had something to do he was rather content. It was this lingering, the uncertainty on what he should or should not touch, that made him feel like a bit of a loose thread flapping in the breeze. It felt strange to be tipping his head back to look at Linnette, but her meagre height was assisted by the bed she stood on momentarily. Drake was not prepared for the tender touch she placed on his cheek. It was brief but it left a burning sensation on his skin, it caused a stiff shiver to run down the back of his neck, along his shoulders then downwards, spiralling thickly over his taut skin back and front. Outwardly he barely reacted though - his eyes hardening marginally.
The Spaniard swallowed hard and tensed his jaw, his teeth creaking together quietly as he cleared his throat and stepped back, allowing her room to step onto the ground before him. He was frowning. A deep, dark frown, his eyes downcast to her feet as she came back down to her normal height. She turned away from him and started tugging the blanket off the bed. Drake watched, his breaths coming in long, deep pants now when he saw the tears coursing down her pale cheeks. He felt so damn helpless!! What was he to do?
Her choked voice was too much. The strained effort of pulling the sheet off the bed without moving the tapestry and saddlebags coupled with the wounds on her palms was too much in itself! But her tear-choked voice took the last bit of restraint out of Drake. "Stop - Linnette stop.." he murmured quietly, reaching out to her wrist, stilling her movements without putting too much pressure on her limb and stepped in behind her. He wrapped one arm about her shoulders, his elbow crooked against one shoulder, his palm covering the opposite one. He rested his chin on top of her head and tried not to feel her shaking against him. "You're hurting - stop pretending that you're not. This isn't easy - no one expects you to make it look easy." he told her quietly. Licking his lips, the Spaniard released his hold on her wrist but kept his hand close to her arm, ready to stop her from trying to continue through the insufferable pain. "Just stop - for a moment, stop." he begged, shutting his green eyes and gently turned her body around a fraction so that his back was to the door and she was facing the window, the cloudy sky not giving much light and certainly no warmth, but it was brighter than the empty wall they had been looking at, it bore more hope than a blank plaster wall. Mari Mari could more than make up for Milan's inability to dream. She could almost see the flowers growing in the little garden come spring already! And she would not hold it against Milan that he could not see it because she was used to being the only person to see the sun through the clouds. And the best bit about this idea, this plan of hers, was that the house would belong to her. It would be hers and Milan's and no one else's. She had money enough to do it too - with the guilt money that she had gotten from Amadeus it would be more than enough for the doing-up of the cottage. And it would feel good to use that money for a decent purpose, something practical. The money felt dirty to her, it had at the time and it still did. But Mari couldn't throw it away or give it away... she didn't have enough to be able to afford such a silly action. Milan was looking down at her with a peculiar look about his eyes. Mari cocked her head to the side, smiling at him hopefully.
He unwound one arm from her waist and wrapped it about her shoulders, the other arm gestured towards the room and he spoke. Mari practically quivered with delight to hear his awkward monotone - her face brightened adn she danced out of his arms, spreading her own enthusiastically. She gestured upwards first, with burning bright brown eyes. "We will fix the roof first I think, then clear out all of this. We can repair the bed and with a few well placed stones the fire-place will be good as new. We can get flagstones for the ground here - and a rug, a thick rug for over there. We can have a screen here - so that our bed will be nicely hidden and private." she babbled as if they were a married couple, making it 'our' bed instead of 'mine' or 'the'. It just felt right to be designing all this around her and Milan being together. Nothing else would make much sense to her right now. "We can put a shelf over there - maybe buy a book." she smiled delightedly, hands clasped in front of her in delight even though they both knew she couldn't read. However, mention of a book and thoughts of her inability to read made her remember the letter - "Oh! Where did that letter go?" she pondered, a finger tapping her bottom lip as she looked behind her as if it might be there magically. Eala Eala didn't mean to hurt him! For a moment she had thought he might be about to give in and help her, but instead of helping her he grabbed her. The little blonde gave a startled yelp and sobbed heavily as she was tossed over his shoulder. She wriggled, kicking and groaning in an unnatural, animalisitc fashion as she tried to get free. She kept seeing Donnchadh's face - kept seeing the blonde man who stabbed him, kept seeing her brother fall, slumping dead and she so wished she had have run to him then - that she had been able to go to him and hold his hand when he took his last breath but ... but Ash had stopped her. Furious, Eala gave a ferocious toss of her body, convulsing into such an awkward bundle that she got her foot in under his arm and kicked... She was dropped. Immediately she staggered away, hunkered down and watched Ash with wary black eyes. Seeing him in pain though, knowing that she had caused it made Eala feel awful. The tears continued to pour down her pale cheeks adn she gave a protesting shout at Ash for letting her hurt him, gesturing with a flash of her tiny hand to his side before falling down onto the ground on her knees. She was over to one side and it took Ash a moment to realise where she was as he stood. Eala sniffed, looking at his pained expression with wavering determination. She looked down and saw the blood on his fingers and knew that that wasn't the hand he had used to slice the guards throat. That blood was his own, from his side. The little blonde keened, a terrible noise as she turned away from Ash, shaking her head. She stopped two steps away from him and stomped her feet, liftng her face to the clouds and shouted, loud, heedless of those who might be searchign for them. If she could just vocalise what she wanted to say! If she could just make herself understood. Biting her bottom lip, holding the knife-doll close to her chest, Eala swung back to Ash and tottered forward, taking his free hand in her tiny one and tugged him forward, black eyes pleading with him. Soft, whining noises broke from her throat now and then. "Du-hn, duhna..." she tried to say her brother's name, her voice shaky, her body itself shaky! Eala had edged them forward enough that they were coming to the entrance of the lane... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:35 AM Post #260 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 12:00 pm Nolan and Ceinwyn Neeria, the treacherous bitch, landed with a hard thump. Nolan cared little for her wellbeing or her safety…because she had led the Romans right to them. The Woad woman seemed to look at him, imploring for mercy, but did Nolan grant it? No, and no again. His jaw was sharp in its hard and aggressive line, and his lips were thin with displeasure. In the midst of the ambush, his eyes glared green with vehemence. The Woad warrior had no patience for her declarations of innocence, nor her attempts at being the negotiator. The woman was below him, and would be murdered if she put a foot wrong. Nolan did not care for mercy, it was weakness, and those that consorted with the enemy were the enemy. Nolan heard the familiar whoosh and thump of arrowhead, and he heard voices from within the hut, barking muffled orders. He nearly smiled. They were trapped, and what would they do now? The Woad was prepared for them to fight, and he watched as his comrades dropped from the trees, coming closer to the surrounded hut and sealing any opportunity to escape. Negotiation? The Woad warrior breathed a hard and shuddering growl.
Nolan’s eyes took in every detail, and his ears listened ardently to everything spoken. He heard the Roman’s call for ‘Peace’ but what was it worth? They were surrounded, and Nolan looked to the empty horses once more. How many were trapped in the hut…and did they believe him foolish enough to enter without good cause? Or alone? The Roman beside them pulled his horse into a high rear, and Nolan backed off for a moment. A dark grimace marked his features, and he watched his army rush to surround the man. His sword was drawn, but he looked quite pathetic on his own. Could this singular Roman defeat an army of twenty Woads? Indeed, the man would be shot down before his first lunge pierced a British chest…When the man lowered his sword, Nolan turned back to Neeria…certain his Woad company would keep the Roman tightly surrounded. “Hold your spited and treacherous tongue Neeria! Or I’ll cut it out your mouth…” Nolan spat the words angrily in her face, and grabbed hold of her hair, pulling her out the way. The Woad warrior did not care for the words she spoke, nor her supposed intentions. It mattered not to him. She was a traitor, and a traitor’s words were false and useless. If these Romans had truly been sent on Arthur’s orders, then Neeria should not be dealing with them. It was Merlin’s task…and Nolan’s negotiation. Nolan eyed the entrance to the dark hurt, seeking to see through the darkness. He squinted, frowned…but nothing, and he growled darkly in response. He remained where he stood…and spoke loudly. “…and how much is your Peace worth, Roman?” His tongue lilted awkwardly over the words, and they were heavy with repulsion and impatience. He did not want a negotiation, he wanted Roman bloodshed…but he had his orders. “There has been peace enough. Why do you seek Merlin? And why should I take you to him?” Nolan spoke to the dark entrance, but kept faraway from it. He did not fancy a sword in his throat for venturing carelessly nearby…and he knew a Roman’s peace was transient. He saw Ceinwyn approach his side, her coltish features lifted defiantly in the direction of the hut. Nolan was half tempted to send her into it…but he could not sacrifice her health from his army. The woman stood defiantly beside him, and Nolan spat on the floor. Why could they not kill them all? He lacked patience for negotiation… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:37 AM Post #261 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 12:21 pm Amadeus Tristan had not cut a single throat yet - Mordred was surrounded outside and Barbattus was hammering on at him from one side...
The Optio turned a fierce glare to the Captain, hsi grey eyes narrow and his lips pulled out in stark displeasure and irritation - "Shut up!" he snapped quietly, gesturing to the hut door as he listened to what was going on outside. Truth was, he had no orders. He didn't know what to do until someone else made a move. He could retaliate, launch an attack with himself and Tristan and Barbattus hoping they could overpower 20 odd woads, but that was bloody suicidal! And Amadeus had much too much to attend to without facing death right now. Shrewd grey eyes swivelled back towards Tristan who held a knife at the throat of one woad prisoner and he nodded his head, nostrils flared as he peered back at teh door. He gave a startled gasp when he saw one of the woads was standing close by, his face a picture of murderous intent. What foul creatures these woads were! Their bodies pracitcally naked save for the blue paint that they plastered upon their skin as if it might protect them!
There has been peace enough, thought the Optio grimly, glowering viciously out of the hut at the man who was now accompanied by a woman. She might have been beautiful once but now she looked manic, crazed. Amadeus narrowd his eyes, looking beyond to Neeria who was being treated like the traitorous bitch that she was. He only hoped that Merlin would not be lenient on her... "My peace is worth three of your own, Woad." Amadeus said, tilting hsi chin and speaking out the door. Stiffening his shoulders, Amadeus gestured behind him for Tristan to step forward. "Keep a hold of him but let them see we have one.." he ordered then looked at Barbattus - "Watch the others." he hissed before addressing the woad leader outside. "I seek a meeting with Merlin to speak on behalf of Arthur Castus." he intoned with all the authority and weight that he possessed, which was quite alot. "And you should take me to him because I have demanded it!" Amadeus said haughtily, his voice a little snappish, brooking no arguments from the wretched animal outside. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:38 AM Post #262 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 3:56 pm Alina It had begun with a conversation, which had quickly led to an argument - not a heated one, but the tip of the iceberg, a taste of what would come, a cold front more than anything. From there a brawl had ensued on her account, an inevitable product of her shameful forthcomings. The brawl had since escaladed into a complete circus, the sudden chaos very nearly throwing Alina for a loop. Her dry sobbing ceased and was replaced with utter shock as Lancelot and Gawain filed in and joined the mix. Galahad seemed to ignore their pleas, or perhaps he was just so out of control that he hadn't heard them tell him to stop - Alina couldn't decide. To see Galahad in such a rage was heart wrenching, stunning - a terrifying side of him she had never witnessed before. This was her Galahad, and yet in those long moments, he was a stranger to her. The fight exploded out the tavern door, spilling everyone out into the courtyard. It was her first instinct to rush after, to just throw herself between them come what may, despite Lancelot's advice, and despite her own conscience warning her to stay away. Everything spiraling out of control was her doing anyway - possibly getting accidentally pummeled or trampled in her efforts to make peace almost seemed like a fair consequence for her actions. Kolya was recovering from a life-threatening illness and Galahad was injured from battle - she hadn't forgotten. Nothing good would come of them tearing each other apart, all because of her. Mechanically, Alina edged back and found an empty stool to sit on. Damp, wavy locks sprawled artistically about her hunched soldiers, her hands folding between her knees. Her features were stony, unfathomable, as resolute dark eyes stared unflinchingly toward the door. Waiting.
"No, I'm fine..." she replied listlessly. Alina blinked heavily, peering sideways at the raven-haired healer's hand on her shoulder. Such a gesture was made out of general concern, yet Alina could only comprehend it as sympathetic. Sympathy was the furthest thing she deserved given the circumstances. A familiar face should've been a comfort for the young woman, and yet she was hindered by Neeve's presence. She absentmindedly shifted away from the other woman's touch - a lazy movement, not brusque nor insolent, and certainly it had not aimed to be anything personal against the other healer. "Men...they always think they have something to prove, don't they?" Alina offered after a moment, her tone dull, uninterested in the prompted subject. She'd tried to smile, but alas her mouth refused to cooperate. The chuckle that had escaped her lips following her words had been forced and unconvincing. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:40 AM Post #263 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 5:27 pm Brendyn He understood urgency, and was not an idiot by a longshot, but he had waited to see what should be done in case of capture. If it had been his own instincts, he'd have just killed her and whoever else had helped her....
Brendyn did not wince when the man shouted at him. He was not deaf and had no problems hearing orders. Shooting a glance at Titrus, then at Quintus, Brendyn said nothing, but instead deducted in his mind that the first place to look would be the dungeons themselves. There was only one way in and out. Not caring that others looked at him as one would see a mangy dog, Brendyn ran to the entrance of the dungeons and took the flight of stairs at a good clip. They had to still be down here looking for a way out....unless they had already figured that out as well. Perhaps his smell would blend him into the surroundings of the dank prisons. When Brendyn's booted foot hit the dirt floor of the hallway of the dungeons, he slowed way down and began to get more cautious. If this woad killed a guard, he certianly did not want to be next on her list. Brendyn did realize that he was unarmed, but he had always been good at hand to hand defense or using whatever was around. Taking a deep breath, Brendyn moved down the aisles of the dungeons looking for footprints in the dirt floor... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:41 AM Post #264 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 5:48 pm Lancelot The first knight snarled a few unintellegible words into Galahad's ear; the pup was not listening, and as Lancelot tried to avoid the punches that were inevitably coming his way, he jabbed at Galahad as well - if only to get the younger knight to knock it the fuck off.
An "ooof"ing sound made it's way out of Lancelot as Galahad tried to punch his face, but instead connected with Lancelot's shoulder - above the arrow wound on his arm. Growling, Lancelot let go of Galahad's waist and slammed his forehead into the back of Galahad's skull, the cracking sound satisfying and dizzying. He briefly noticed that Gawain had also joined the brawl - and Lancelot jerked at Galahad's arm, trying to turn him around. "You fucking idiot! He'll kill you - or I will if you don't stop - " Kolya kicked out at the young knight, and the force of his blow made the three other men stagger together. It would have been a comic sight except for the pain involved. Lancelot lashed out with his fist, catching the edge of Galahad's jaw - he'd meant to knock the fool out - but Kolya barreled into them, and the three Sarmatians tumbled to the hard, still wet ground like so many game pins. Lancelot was beyond snarling now; his voice did not sound like his own as he shouted his annoyance and pain. His arm throbbed from where Galahad had hit it earlier, and his eye was swelling shut. "Get. Off. Me," he gritted out, his double blades poking into his back and buttocks painfully as he attempted to squirm up from the muck. He shoved the prone Galahad and Gawain, making sure to use his elbows as much as possible. "Galahad, you useless little fuck. Get your drunken, stupid arse off my chest, or I will beat you senseless." He managed to get out from the pile of flailing Sarmatians, and latched hands onto Galahad's shoulders in an attempt to drag him up. "STOP THIS. Now." He met Kolya's eyes and spat. "You're not helping, you fucking old fool. Leave him be." |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:42 AM Post #265 |
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Author: linnet Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 6:39 pm Mother Lavinia Lavinia knew that sooner or later, Fleur would wise up to her. Obviously the girl was just temporarily oblivious to whatever it was that caused other children to be suspicious and distant toward the nun. Lavinia saw the spell break when she told Fleur to smash any spiders with the paperweight. A pouty frown replaced the little one’s look of eager interest. It was the cutest pouty frown imaginable, but it made Lavinia sigh in irritation at herself for hoping this child could be comfortable around her.
Bit me, Lavinia thought. But she decided not to say anything more about the creepy bugs. No sense planting fear in such an innocent soul. Besides, the spiders would probably take one look at the cherubic urchin and just sit back entranced, smiling and saying “Awwww.” The old woman took the rock that Fleur handed her, and expected that the girl had changed her mind about helping, and about trusting her. But instead the child wasted no time. She plopped down on her hands and knees before sprawling forward on her belly, putting herself right among the items on the bottom shelf. Lavinia waited with her ledger and quill poised, while Fleur worked diligently.
The nun dutifully recorded the number in her ledger, as Fleur backed out, looking pleased at her success. So what if thirty was more than the child’s fingers and ‘foots’ together? It would have to be close enough.
Lavinia cast a genuine smile of affection down to Fleur as the nun closed the closet door behind them. “You did perfect, Fleur,” she said emphatically. “You should go back to your sister now so she doesn’t worry about where you are. That’s all the help I needed today. But I think I might need some more help tomorrow.” Lavinia would have been happy to keep the girl with her all day. But she really needed to get busy composing a letter that would start things going to arrange a fit residence for Fleur and her sister. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:43 AM Post #266 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 6:48 pm Tatiana Hearing the sigh that he released during his turn, Tatiana was glad that her technique was doing its best and relaxing him. Sounds like I didn't forget anything if Adian's sigh is any indication Feeling his head tilt back when she gave him his massage, she felt happy that she was able to give him some peace during her part of the deal. I'm glad to hear that he's having a very good time. Was her next thought when she heard him laugh, only made her promise herself to try again another time with her playful tickling. Feeling his arms catch her, Tatiana felt his heather gray eyes mesmerize and hypnotize her emerald green ones as he leaned forward and brushed his lips softly against hers.
"Good, I'm glad that you had fun and are relaxed as that's very important." She replied with a soft sigh of her own before leaning in and returning his slow kiss with one of her own, her eyes closing of their own accord, all of her thoughts and cares happily disappearing so much like steam on a warm summer's day from her mind during the kiss. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 02:44 AM Post #267 |
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Author: linnet Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 8:06 pm Juna
Juna felt the insistence of his hands gripping her shoulders, and saw a familiar flash of anger in his face. It didn’t surprise or frighten her. Battles of will between them had been going on for years. She knew his limits, and he knew her stubbornness. When he agreed more readily than she’d expected, she knew it was because things were too urgent now to waste time in a standoff over her staying with him. She grabbed her medical supply bag. Merlin grabbed her hand and took off as if he were pulling a balky animal in his wake. Even with her long legs, Juna had to take a couple of running steps every so often in order to keep up. And her bag kept slipping off her shoulder, forcing her to hitch it up as they rushed back through the moving line of Woads. His grip on her hand was tight enough to hurt when it pulled against her knuckles. But Juna didn’t mind at all. He could drag her anywhere, and she’d go along willingly. Merlin worked fast and efficiently, gathering warriors to accompany him. When he’d given them instructions, he let go of Juna’s hand. He looked as though he hadn’t been aware of how long and how tightly he’d been holding it.
“No need to be,” she said, a hint of smile letting him know she didn’t mind. “Just don’t make me climb any trees.” She wanted to let Merlin know that he didn’t have to worry about her being along, one way or the other. “I’ll be careful and not cause you any trouble,” she said to reassure him. She wouldn’t promise to ‘stay well back’. Why should she? What trouble could she get into? She obviously wasn’t a threat to the Romans. Her calf-length skirt and her cloak, her skin free of blue paint, her bag of healing items: nothing about her would even attract their attention. But just in case, she reached in her bag to feel where to quickly locate the lethal looking dagger that Adian had given her. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:03 PM Post #268 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Jun 25, 2008 9:07 pm Linnette
"I'm not sure stopping helps, either," she murmured miserably, but nevertheless, her busy, painful hands really did obediently stop trying to tug at the blanket. She crossed them in front of her instead, palms tucked protectively against her sides, and made no effort to shrug Drake's arm off her shoulders- now that they were not observed, the contact did not bother her, and in fact she found it comforting. She even went so far as to lean her head back against his shoulder as he turned them just slightly, and her vision shifted from a view of the bed and all the things she had to do to one out the window of the room. Not that there was much to see out there- just the wall and door and windows of the building across the street. But above that, there was sky, open and free, albeit grey, and she let her mind soar up there for just a moment. How far would she have to go up there to find Gedeon? Was there any way across that endless expanse? Any way short of death for herself? "How...what did you do? When your wife died?" she asked, softly, and without turning her head from the view of the sky. The last word was even quieter, barely a hint of sound, but she did say it, and say it straightforwardly. When it applied to someone else, then she could say it, though she didn't wish to jar Drake's feelings either. Applied to Gedeon- in that case, the word itself was unthinkable. Tristan
Bloody fool! That sort of demand wasn't going to cut any ice with the Woad warriors at all. Because I have demanded it...where did the Roman think he was, on the parade ground in the fort? It was all Tristan could do to restrain a roll of his eyes- but with effort, he did, though he did exchange a significant glance with Barbattus, as he hauled the Woad in front of him to his feet, his knife at the man's throat, but merely in warning, not acutually pricking the skin yet. Barbattus seemed to think much as Tristan did, that the Optio was not handling this well, and Tristan wondered if there was any possible way that the Captain could, well...take over this little negotiation. Not likely- but he would almost certainly do a better job. Edging his way around the other two living and one dead Woads who cluttered the interior of the hut, Tristan walked his glaring, but acquiescent enough, prisoner to the doorway of the hut. The Woad could only take tiny steps due to the cords around his ankles, so it was an awkward process, but they got there, and now Tristan could get a slightly better picture of what was going on. There were about 20 of them, he thought, scattered around the clearing and all on the alert. The Woad who had spoken to the Optio, and who seemed to be the leader, was a fellow Tristan recognized from previous skirmishes- a rather high-ranking officer, if he wasn't mistaken. The wild-looking woman at his side was also vaguely familiar- hadn't she brought a message to the fort for Merlin once? She looked different now, though, more disheveled, with a light in her eyes that seemed to speak of a perilous grip on sanity. Well, all Woads were at least half-mad, and the Magician not the least of them. Maybe it was something in their paint. A little farther away, Neeria cowered on the ground, and Mordred sat his horse, still holding his sword but making no effort to fight, while several of the Woads watched him warily. The horses, including Tirgatao, seemed to be all right, which was an advantage. If all four of the men could somehow get to their mounts, they'd have a reasonable chance of getting away- but then again, the object of this excursion was talking. Tristan suspected that things were going to get more difficult long before they got easier. Merlin
"It's not you that I think may cause trouble," Merlin answered, grimly at first, but shading into a wry smile and a touch of a laugh at the sudden ridiculous picture of Juna causing trouble in, say, the way a Roman causes trouble. No, it was her safety he was worried about, which surely she knew. Almost unconsciously he adjusted his stride to stay about half a step ahead of her, to be that much closer to danger should they encounter it. Nolan had hid the tracks of the main group well, he noted- no one would think that a large group had come this way. No one would think that wounded had come this way. Good. He sent a silent prayer to the Gods for Nolan and Ceinwyn and all with them, hoping that even now they were safe and the four riders leaving his territory, never to return. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:05 PM Post #269 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 12:08 am Milan
Milan didn't know about the blood money the Optio had paid Mari for her silence, and had he, it would not have sat well with him in the least. There was no amount of compensation that could reverse the heinous act committed upon her, to take away all she had suffered by the hands of a rapist allowed to roam free. The dirty money signified a kind of acceptance for what had happened, and had Milan known about it, he wouldn't have allowed it to persist. He wouldn't have tolerated Mari taking the blame for another man's monstrous crime. She deserved better. He followed her from place to place, always lingering a step or two behind, remaining just close enough to feel the warmth of her presence. She gestured toward the roof and various other ruined pieces, and although he heard her words, his attention was solely upon her. Once or twice when Mari'd pause in thought, he'd come to stand behind her a breath away, fingers outstretched to graze the soft texture of her dark hair or face inclined to inhale her scent - little reminders to let him know she was real, that he hadn't dreamed her. His efforts went unnoticed. Milan broke from his subtle ministrations when she made reference to the bed. He instinctively threw a glance in its direction, absentmindedly trying to imagine it the picture she had painted. He shivered - stomach twisting in anxious knots - suddenly a bit nervous as to why the bed had to be so hidden and private. The young man quickly pushed the embarrassing thoughts away, punch-drunk and slightly flustered as he turned back to her. She continued.
Milan idly scratched the back of his head at her mention of Rowan's letter, the ends of his dark hair sticking out every which way as a result of his digits apprehensive prodding. Last he remembered, Mari had possessed it, but perhaps she might've lost it? Milan was hopeful. In another desperate attempt to distract her from the letter yet again, Milan gently pulled her to him. He took her hands and placed them atop his shoulders, before winding his arms lightly about her waist. He took a step back, toting her with him, then made to step forward, causing her to mirror what he had just done by stepping backward herself. He urged her to follow the choppy, juvenile pattern he had set, all the while trying his hardest not to completely smash her feet with his awkward strides. Milan led the dance, their bodies eventually moving in sync, swaying back and forth. In all honesty, Milan had no idea what he was doing. Dancing was forbidden to his people. He drew inspiration from a painting he had once seen of fine ladies and gentlemen enjoying festive frivolities. He only guessed what dancing must've looked like up close and personal. After awhile, Milan felt brave enough to tear his concentrated gaze away from the clumsy shuffling movements of his feet, confident Mari's feet would be safe for awhile. A sheepish crooked smile graced his lips as he watched her face. "La...la la...la la la...la la..." he mused quietly - resting his forehead against hers - as he provided a steady beat for their dancing, even if it lacked actual rhythm and rhyme. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 1 2010, 07:07 PM Post #270 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Jun 26, 2008 7:27 am Linnesse As Derfel moved away from the bar, Linnesse scooped up a couple more mouthfuls of stew, eying everything warily from her seat at the counter- until she noticed that Alina, whose argument with Galahad seemed to have precipitated this whole thing, retreating to a stool out of the way of the still-skirmishing men, her posture speaking of a frustration near tears even though her back was to Linnesse. Picking up her bowl and spoon to take with her, Linnesse slid off her own stool and made her way over to Alina, arriving a second behind Neeve, who had also joined her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. The fight was expanding now- a soldier, not originally involved, seemed to have been struck by accident or something, and blamed it on a companion, one thing led to another, and now men were jumping on wholesale, flailing away with fists and legs until the whole front entrance to the tavern was virtually impassable. Linnesse had never seen anything like a fight on this scale, before- well, excepting the Woad invasion, which was in another category entirely- and she winced inwardly each time a blow fell, thinking of how many would need bandages and even stitches after this. "What happened?" she asked Alina faintly, lowering her bowl and spoon and beginning to feel a touch of nausea squirming in her belly again. |
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