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June 2008
Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,691 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Fri Jun 27, 2008 6:30 pm
Brendyn


Keeping a cautious eye out for the young woad and whoever else
was with her, the young soldier continued to quietly walk down
the aisles of the smelly place. Wretched souls tried to reach
out and grab at him, cried out to him, but he ignored them.
How they got here was of their own doing and deserved no
compassion. Brendyn pressed against a wall when he thought he
heard something up ahead and had not wanted to be seen. He
almost laughed at himself when he saw a rat cross the path
ahead of him....

A prisoner screamed.

He continued to move silently, still keeping his ears open and
his eyes alert. The young soldier's stomach grumbled in
protest as he yawned. So far it had been a very interesting
day....and it promised to get better. Maybe. Up ahead, Brendyn
saw another set of stairs with light coming from the top. Not
wanting to rush the search but give a thorough look over, Bren
moved slowly and stealthily. As he searched, he hoped that
before the day ended that he'd do something notable of a bit
of praise, or camaroderie. He smelled, he was cold and hungry,
and he wanted to sleep. Leaning up against the stone wall, he
winced. His arm that Evana had worked on was feeling better
yet still a bit tender....nothing to cry over.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: sabor ice
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 1:17 am
Milan


Mari
 
"This is how I've always wanted things, Milan. Just ...
happy... quiet, just the people that I care about. I
only wish Ade was still around to see what we're going
to do here. And that Kolya wasn't such a bloody ... fool
of a man! Do you think it will last? The peace and
quiet? Or do you think something will happen and
everything will get turned upside down again?"


Mari joined in humming a wordless chorus, causing Milan's
smile to broaden at her attempt to humor him. He continued his
toneless garble, unable to suppress a laugh as he listened to
the awful mess it made of her sweet sound. Even his laugh was
awkward, higher, lighter than one might expect considering his
monotone was incredibly husky whenever he attempted to speak.
It was laughter that touched his eyes, causing the irises to
take on a deeper blue hue, almost a beautiful, entrancing
violet.

If Milan had been braver, he might've suggested a different
word to describe Kolya by. The word "fool" was not even in the
young man's vocabulary when he thought of Mari's father,
although preferably, Milan would've rather not thought of the
man at all.

Their dancing slowed until they were doing nothing more than
subtly swaying side to side, just holding each other really.
Mari lay her head against him. It felt so natural that Milan
didn't even pay attention to how securely his arms had wound
about her in reaction to their closeness. He lowered his lips
to rest lightly against her shoulder, closing his eyes and
sighing out a content breath through his nostrils.

He tried not to think about the future. In fact, he rarely did
unless Mari brought something up. The future was shrouded in
darkness, filled with uncertainties. It frightened him to
think about it, knowing nothing was sacred and that he'd have
to face it sooner or later. His hold on her tightened.

"Thhhink...bout...now..." Milan told her quietly against her
ear, eyes still closed. "Yyyou...with...mme..."
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 6:02 am
Amadeus


Ceinwyn
Neeria, and Nolan
“We can sacrifice one of our own to justify the death of a slave! Kill them both!”

“You will not touch the Sarmatian, Do what you want to the Romans, but leave the scout.”

“Very well Roman. You will have your Peace. But you will also lose your weapons…and release the hostages. Your birth or status means nothing to me, nor to Merlin… Release him. This is not your war.”


Amadeus was not moving forward until a deal had been brokered.
He could see through a gap in the huts walls a little of what
was happening outside. He narrowed his grey eyes to the man
that was talking, giving a raised eyebrow to the feral woman's
violent declaration. The Optio gave an uncomfortable snarl at
her trying to turn Tristan against him and case a cautionary
glance at the Scout. It was a begrudging thing but Amadeus
would have to make known to Arthur that he was quite impressed
with this particular Sarmatians services. He lacked the proper
respects of course, and looked like a total barbarian, but he
took orders well. And he also knew which side he was on
despite the woad whore thinking to the contrary with her
brave, idiotic attempt to save the life of a man that would
slit her throat as quickly as he had done the woad in the hut.
If ordered by Amadeus Scipio too..

Lose their weapons!!

HA!

The Optio's head drew back and he flexed his fingers about the
hilt of his sword for comfort and reassurance. There was no
way in hell he was going to drop the bloody weapon or insist
that Barbattus, Tristan or Mordred do the same either! That
was insane. If there was peace then weaponary became
ornamental, no?

Malcus
 
“There is no war today, woad, Our request has been made.
We wish to speak with Merlin on the request of Arthur
Castus. There need not be any further bloodshed. Ask
your men to stand down as we are clearly out-numbered.
Now, let’s stop fucking around. Where is Merlin?"


Now this one, on the other hand, would not be receiving the
best of compliments from Amadeus to Arthur! The Optio's grey
eyes darted to the Captain and then to Tristan automatically.
Listening, the Optio was almost satisfied with what the man
had said, until he soundly declared that they were outnumbered
and then... then! stepped out of the hut without orders,
leaving Amadeus and Tristan alone in the tent with three
woads... outnumbered!

"Fool!" he hissed at Barbattus' back and did not follow him,
gesturing for Tristan to remain where he was too.

"Our numbers are made more by those who will follow our tracks
should we not return by nightfall." Amadeus lied with ease,
skil and plausibility. On reflection he realised that this was
a contingency he should have made with Arthur before leaving.
But there was no point in letting the woads know that he had
not. If there was one thing Amadeus was good at, it was lying.
Tensing his sharp jaw, the Optio moved forward, chin lifted
but did not step out of the hut, merely stood next to Tristan,
grey eyes assessing what he could see beyond Barbattus' form.
He met eyes with the leader of the woads -

"Now, woad, either take us to Merlin or bring Merlin here so
that we might carry out our duty under the name of Arthur
Castus." the Optio ordered.









Galahad and Kolya

People speaking around him were just muffled noises. Though
Galahad did recognise the disapproving, warning tones of
Lancelot. Somewhere in the back of his bruised and addled
brain he knew that he was hitting Lancelot and not Kolya, but
if even half the punches were landing on the older Sarmatian
then Galahad was happy. This piece of shit thought to take
Alina from him, he had sneaked in when her real lover had been
away, fighting for his life and he had taken her from him.
Galahad knew things could never be the same with Alina now, he
knew that he would always wonder if she compared him to Kolya,
he would always wonder if she regret picking him. And it was
then that Galahad paused... breathless, staring at Kolya eye
to blue eye for a moment of stillness... and he wondered if
Alina would pick him over Kolya at all...

And then Kolya lurched forward. Galahad felt something painful
strike his jaw and his head snapped to one side, one eye
becoming bloodshot.

Lancelot
 
"Galahad, you useless little fuck. Get your drunken,
stupid arse off my chest, or I will beat you senseless.
STOP THIS. Now. You're not helping, you fucking old
fool. Leave him be."


Kolya snarled at Lancelot and lashed out, punching the dark
knight in the jaw but fell forward, sprawled on top of Galahad
who was wriggling madly. Someone was standing on his shin, his
leg mashed down into the slick muck beneath. His blue eyes
lifted and he saw Kolya above him, gave a shout of frustrated
anger and did the only thing he could... bite. Sticking his
elbows out left, right and centre, somehow, Galahad threw all
his weight forward, tumbling Kolya onto his back and bit,
hard, onto the old man. He managed to get his jaw around
Kolya's wrist and heard a satisfying cry of pain before being
pulled back by someone and held away.

The young Sarmatian was half-dead with tiredness now but he
wasn't finished, not by a long shot. He wriggled in the hands
of whoever was holding him back, legs flailing everywhere, his
bloodshot eyes intense on Kolya who was getting to his feet in
a fury, holding his bloody wrist to his chest but staying
back. The old Sarmatian had had enough of this. He was dirty,
bloody and ridiculed by men younger than him. With his lip
pulled back he looked towards Galahad and spat at the man's
feet.

"She deserves better than either of us." he said hoarsely. At
which point Galahad let out an uncontrolled shriek, one hand
broke free, slapped backwards blindly against the face of
whoever was holding him and made one final dash forward...









Eala

The cold did not affect this child of nature. The chill wind
battered against her slight body beneath the off-white tunic
she had been given and her bare hands and feet were left
exposed, the skin hardened from over-use, abuse and neglect
througout her meagre years in the forests. She had been a
little child once, a proper child who would have taken the
doll given to her by Titrus and perhaps figured out what it
was for instead of using it to conceal a weapon. That was half
her lifetime ago though. Back when her parents had been alive.
Back before the Romans had taken away all that she had except
Donnchadh.

And even then they would not leave her be - even then they
insisted on taking that last bit of hope from her life. The
only family she had left had been wrenched from her life and
Eala would not rest until she was sure that the people who
were intent on making her life so hard, so quiet and
unintellgible were gone. The Romans.

Her and Ash sped down a laneway though she was reluctant as it
was takingher away from where she wanted to go. She whined -
oh she whined! A sad, sorrowful keen that was not even close
to how she really felt inside. But he stopped, understanding
her intense misery and he hunkered down. Eala felt her wrist
released and she took a step backwards, pouting, tears drying
on her pale cheeks. Ash held her head in his hands and she
would not look at him, she kept her black eyes averted
childishly but she could not do that and understand what he
was telling her. So the ten-year old reluctantly looked to his
eyes, her head bowed, bottom lip hanging out sadly.

Ash
 
"I won't lose you again, understand ? ... gate...
near... go now... we will return ... we will... We must
go now."


His attempt at making himself understood was appreciated. Eala
gave a whine when he said that they would go now and she had
been in the motions of pulling her head from his hands but he
moved his lips again, telling her they would return. She
couldn't understand it all, of course, but the general idea
was solid in her mind. They would go now but they would come
back. He would come back with her. That is how she understood
it.

The little blonde placed her tiny hand on Ash's wrist and
turned her head to look over her shoulder, assessing this
promise. She wanted to get revenge now but knew it was a bad
idea, it was dangerous now. But Donnchadh...

Looking back at Ash Eala could see the strain of pain in his
face, his dark eyes pinched. She could smell the metallic tang
of blood from him too where some wound may have reopened or
perhaps a new wound?

Her own body felt wilted of power and her mind dreaded the
thoughts of those dungeons again, the darkness where she could
not hear and could not see...

"Nnph.." she sighed, nodding her head and throwing her arms
around Ash's neck in a possessive hug. Her eyes were shut
tight, her nose scrunched up and she bowed her head to his
shoulder, snuffling against the now familiar feel of his
tunic. A choked sob caught in her throat and she squeeked,
pulling back and nodding her head. It was obvious in the deep
recesses of her eyes that this was hurting her, to, in her
mind, turn her back on Donnchadh and leave Badon now without
revenge for him.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 8:15 am
Linnesse


Neeve
 
“Well, I don’t think it would be wise to get ourselves
involved as well…do you think there are some buckets
with cold water somewhere in here? Maybe splashing that
on them would do...or maybe some free ale would distract
them enough to stop this…”


Alina
 
"And you honestly believe something like that would
actually help the situation?"


Alina stood up in anger and indignation, knocking over the
stool she had been sitting on, and stalked out of the tavern
by the back entrance. Linnesse's eyes widened and she looked
up at Neeve in surprise and consternation, much as she had not
ten minutes ago when Linnette had done almost exactly the same
thing. Was it something in the air? Why did she seem unable to
help anyone, with anything, today, when normally helping was
part and parcel of her life, her whole purpose, in fact? But
right now, she seemed to be in multiple situations where
caring was of no avail- leaving her helpless.

However, one of Neeve's suggestions had been something that
just might work.

"The water...that sounds like as good an idea as any."
Linnesse dropped her eyes from Neeve and scanned the tavern,
looking for a bucket or other largish container. Surely there
were some in the kitchen- but over there, in the corner, there
was indeed an abandoned bucket of water closer. It looked like
one of the girls had been intending to start mopping the
floor, and left it for more interesting things when the fight
had started. As long as it wasn't too hot, it would
do...Linnesse took a reflexive step towards it, but then
thought better of it mid-stride.

"I...I don't think I can manage a full bucket on my own," she
admitted sheepishly, turning back to Neeve with a contrite
expression on her face.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 8:44 am
Neeve


Alina
 
"And, you honestly believe something like that would
actually help the situation?"


When Alina suddenly stood and snapped at her, Neeve arched an
eyebrow at the smaller woman and parted her lips to say
something…but before she had the chance, Alina was already
stalking away. Well, apparently things between her and Galahad
were really bad. The other woman was far too tensed for her
own sake. Neeve shook her head and looked at Linnesse,
shrugging her shoulders slightly as she did so. “Just
announcing free ale would have probably been enough already…”,
the raven-haired stated dryly before shooting another glance
at the brawl outside…

Linnesse
 
"The water...that sounds like as good an idea as any.
I...I don't think I can manage a full bucket on my own,"


Linnesse’s reply managed to return Neeve’s attention to their
problem at hand…and she let her blue gaze follow the other
woman’s…just to spot a large bucket in a near corner. The
healer smirked slightly. “Let’s get that thing together…”, she
then said and walked over to the bucket. And it indeed was a
really large bucket…filled with wonderfully cool water. “Come
on…”, the raven-haired added and motioned for Linnesse to help
her…
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 8:44 am
Lancelot


Lancelot's head snapped backward as Kolya let out his apparent
frustration - his fist connected meatily with the first
knight's jaw. Lancelot screamed out a curse in his native
tongue, but holding onto Galahad was a full time job, and he
did not have the time to retaliate. Not at this second. He met
the older Sarmatian's eyes, and his own dark gaze promised
retribution.

Galahad was still flailing and managed to get out of
Lancelot's grasp; the dark knight struggled to rise, tangled
as he was with Gawain and now coated in wet earth. Fucking
British rain! Fucking stupid Galahad! Fucking women and their
trouble - and gods damn it, but didn't Galahad have more sense
than the gods gave a goose???

Lancelot was beyond furious - his eyes glittered dangerously
and he snarled a wordless sound as he watched Galahad try and
bite Kolya. He finally managed to get to his feet, and shoving
Gawain away from him, he snagged the pup about the waist again
and dragged him off of the older man.

Kolya
 
"She deserves better than either of us."


And then Kolya spit at the ground in front of them, and before
Lancelot could stop him, Galahad's fingers and hands smacked
hard enough at Lancelot's face so the first knight's only
reaction was to drop his burden -

and Galahad barreled forward again. Lancelot, sweat dripping
from his exhausted body and new injuries beginning to show -
his wounded arm was throbbing anew and his eye was pretty much
swollen shut from where Galahad had elbowed him - threw up his
hands and just stepped back.

"You want to die for no reason?? Fine - I give my most humble
permission!" Lancelot shouted the words after Galahad, and
added a nonsensical yell when he was finished. Every bit of
his flesh ached and he was beginning to tremble - the lack of
food and the rush of adrenaline being the major culprits. He
spat on the ground, and waited to see who'd die first.

Arthur would be ashamed of you, Lancelot. Letting one of our
men do something so idiotic -

Arthur is abed and fuck him. I am the first knight - I will
let Galahad die if that is what he chooses. He dug his own
damn grave. Let him accept the consequences.

Rage swirled in his mind, and Lancelot could barely see for
the clouding. He screamed again suddenly, his frustration and
exhaustion getting the better of him, and he turned to the
nearest post and slammed his fist into it. Now, bloody
knuckles, a sore body, a swollen black eye, an arrow punctured
arm, and a punched jaw made for a fantastic picture. His eyes
followed the scene in front of him, and not being able to help
it -

he laughed.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 9:20 am
Tristan


Neeria
 
“You will not touch the Sarmatian. Do what you want to
the Romans, but leave the scout.”


Oh, for fuck's sake. What was her inexplicable...attatchment
to him?? Tristan had no idea how he had, in the course of the
past couple of days, become some sort of benevolent figure to
her. He hadn't done anything- he had treated her harshly, as
would be expected! And now...well, Tristan could not be
comfortable with her once again drawing attention to his role
in this situation. He was supposed to be near invisible, let
Amadeus do the talking. Inwardly he squirmed, but outwardly he
merely continued to hold the knife on the Woad in front of
him. His cheeks might have pinked just a touch- but the hut
was dimly lit and everyone thinking of other things, and no
one would notice.

It was then that Barbattus, suddenly taking the lead (in a
move that was certain to irritate Scipio, Tristan knew without
even looking at the man), set down his sword inside the hut
and stepped boldy out, speaking to the leader of the Woads.

Malcus
 
“There is no war today, Woad. Our request has been made.
We wish to speak with Merlin on the request of Arthur
Castus. There need not be any further bloodshed. Ask
your men to stand down as we are clearly out-numbered.
Now, let’s stop fucking around. Where is Merlin?”


Amadeus
 
"Fool! Our numbers are made more by those who will
follow our tracks should we not return by nightfall.
Now, Woad, either take us to Merlin or bring Merlin here
so that we might carry out our duty under the name of
Arthur Castus."


Tristan let the knife he held at the Woad's throat fall just a
little bit, but noticeably- a small gesture of good faith,
perhaps. In reality, he wasn't worried that the man would
really overpower him- he had him at his mercy, no matter where
exactly the knife was. But lowering it looked more like they
were negotiating. He cast a quick, assessing glance back at
the other two living Woads in the hut, just making sure they
were where he had left them, then turned back to the leader of
the blue devils, waiting like everyone else to see what answer
he would give. Would he agree to bring them to Merlin? Or
would they have to fight their way out of this after all, and
come back to Badon with nothing to show for it but wounds?











Linnette

Drake was silent for a long moment after she asked the
question, and Linnette began to suspect it had not been the
right thing to say. Perhaps it was too painful to speak about-
too personal- or perhaps his situation hadn't been like hers
at all. Not every couple was as fond of each other as she and
Gedeon had been. Not everyone married for love or even
respect. It could have been that the passing of Drake's wife
had affected him little. But somehow she didn't think so- and
as the silence deepened, and his hand slid comfortingly down
her arm and back up to her shoulder again, she doubted it
increasingly. He must have loved his wife. And his words, when
they came, confirmed it.

Drake
 
"I... I became the man I am now. She was very beautiful,
you know... and my sons were strong, healthy. No one
ever deserves to go on without those they love but that
is how the world works and we must recover. You don't
have to go it alone."


"I know." Without her thinking about it, one of Linnette's
hands- the right, the better one- slid backwards from where it
had been tucked at her side to cover her stomach, wherein lay
the evidence that she was certainly not alone- she had a
responsibility, a great one, to see this one little remaining
scrap of Gedeon through. What would he look like? Or she?
Would she be able to see the face of her dead husband in her
child? Or would she look at the child and see only herself- or
something else entirely? Her eyes drifted closed as she
imagined it, enumerated the possibilities in her mind, her
head resting all the while on Drake's shoulder. A tender
picture indeed.

It was Linnette that broke the embrace, though. After a long
moment, she opened her eyes, stepped away and turned around to
face him, giving him another small, sad smile.

"I'm sorry about your family." Mentally, she was adding the
souls of Drake's unknown wife and sons to her mental checklist
of things to pray for or about when she was next in the
chapel, which ought to be later today. Drake himself was on
the list, too, though she did not tell him that, not wishing
to embarrass him or anything like that. Would he be
embarrassed to know that she planned to thank God with all her
heart for his presence and all he had done for her? Probably.
But there seemed so little else she could do for him- and he
clearly deserved something.

"You didn't deserve that, either," she murmurred, feeling
tears and a tight throat threatening again. Crying, crying,
always crying. Her eyes were never dry for long- and it didn't
feel like they ever would be. She sniffed, then looked up into
Drake's eyes despairingly- then something seemed to break
inside her, and she stepped forward and put her arms around
his waist, hugging him tightly with her cheek resting against
his chest and tears dampening the dark blue tunic.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Eledhwen
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 10:47 am

Bors


Dagonet
 
"Then go to her, Bors...promise me to come back in two
days for Lavinia to examine this whole in you, aye?"


Bors grumbled under his breath, trying to struggle up the bed
to sit up. He hated the infirmary, the smell of blood, the
sounds of pain, and he hated that he couldn't say the same
thing to Dag - get out of here, go and rest properly in your
own room, not in this place that smelled of death.

"Yeah, yeah I fink I will," he grunted, slowly lowering his
injured leg over the side of the bed.

Wincing, he put his weight on it, and found he could stand,
maybe even better than he had been able to before. Not bad,
that healer then...

"Dag..." he began, hobbling to his friend's side, but all he
encountered was the flaming red of Saoirse's hair as she lay
with her head on Dagonet's shoulder.

Bors grimaced and sniffed loudly, frowning before looking away
from her and up into the sad, deeply anguished eyes of his
best friend and comrade. There was so much Bors wanted to say,
but so much that he couldn't say, and so he just shrugged.

"Take care of yerself ay?" he said roughly, laying a hand for
a minute on Dagonet's arm. "Don't... don't take on too
much..."

There was more, more than that, and far better ways of putting
it, but Bors wasn't the type to speak too much and too deeply.
He knew what the tall knight was like though - Dagonet would
take on everybody else's worries as well as his own, and it
would drag him even further into the despair he now faced. He
had always been the same, trying to take care of all the
smaller, weaker boys, and time had not changed him. Now he
tried to defend anyone weaker than he, and that was, well,
generally everyone.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: linnet
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 3:31 pm

Gawain


Gawain tried futilely to untangle himself from the hog-pile in
the mud, which now included Kolya. The older man punched
furiously, connecting with Gawain’s ear and shoulder before
the blonde knight was able to sit up and shove Kolya out of
his way. That worked fine for Kolya as it put him in better
range to connect with Galahad, and with the struggling
Lancelot as well. It took Gawain two attempts to stand. The
knee he’s twisted when Kolya knocked them down buckled under
him the first try. He repositioned it and was able to finally
get to his feet.

By that time Galahad had freed himself and was back at Kolya,
actually biting the other man. Lancelot made another
self-sacrificing lunge to grab Galahad and pull him away.
Gawain reached in to do what he could to help restrain the
enraged youngster. But when Lancelot pushed him away, Gawain
hollered, “Fuck you!” and had to hold back the urge to add his
own knuckle marks to the Dark Knight’s battered face. Instead
he took a couple steps toward Kolya, while Lancelot held
Galahad in momentary check. If Gawain could just get between
the two rivals, and then gradually back the older man away
while Lancelot held fast until the steam went out of
Galahad…..He moved in front of Kolya, but the veteran knight
wasn’t quite ready to back away. He sidestepped Gawain and
spat scornfully on the ground in Galahad’s direction.

Kolya
 
"She deserves better than either of us."


Lancelot
 
"You want to die for no reason?? Fine - I give my most
humble permission!"


Gawain whirled and had only seconds to react. He managed to
step directly in front of Galahad, who was charging again,
wild with rage. Gawain planted himself and raised his left arm
in front of him, across his chest. Galahad’s momentum ran him
full force into the arm. It hit where Gawain had hoped it
would, right at his best friend’s windpipe. The collision sent
the blonde knight staggering backwards, but the damage had
been done. Galahad was on his back gasping for air, holding
his throat.

Gawain walked the few steps needed to stand over Galahad. He
shook his mud covered head sadly. He knelt down, with one knee
on Galahad’s chest. He looked into the bulging eyes of his
friend who was still trying to breathe normally. “I told you
to stop, damn it,” Gawain said in a low voice. Then he cocked
back his good arm, and let his fist connect squarely with
Galahad’s jaw. It was a hard shot. Hard enough to knock a man
out. But he did take a little off the blow to keep from
breaking anything – he hoped.

He stood up and looked around for someone to come and tend to
Galahad, but he didn’t see any sign of Alina, or Neeve for
that matter. He did see Lancelot, and watched his agitated
superior take his anger out on a post. The dark-haired knight
was a mess of cuts and bruises. Gawain wasn’t so pretty
himself. Blood was running down his cheek from a nasty gash,
his ear was swelling up, and he limped when he tried to take a
few steps toward the tavern to look for help for Galahad.
“What the hell’s so funny?” he called back to Lancelot who's
laughter meant he'd either had gone spare, or found the whole
fucking mess amusing.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 9:08 pm
Linnesse


Neeve
 
“Let’s get that thing together…come on…”


The bucket was heavy, and Linnesse struggled to hold up her
half of it- well, in truth Neeve was probably taking more than
half the weight, but even so, it was almost more than Linnesse
could manage. She pressed gamely on, from the corner where the
bucket had been left towards the fighting men at the tavern
doorway, the bucket banging into her lower legs and her breath
coming almost in gasps. Some of the onlookers that they passed
seemed to realize what they were about, and either laughed or
made remarks that the cooling draught might be welcome for the
brawlers, but Linnesse had no energy to spare to even look at
them. All her focus was on helping Neeve carry the bucket, and
hoping that somehow this would make some kind of dent in the
struggle going on at the door.

The chaos was still in full force when they arrived in range.
Galahad lay motionless on the ground- Linnesse couldn't see
what had felled him, but she thought it must be recent, as he
had been going strong when she and Neeve had gone for the
bucket. She saw Gawain, blood running down his face- Lancelot,
his head back and his mouth open in a maniacal laugh- and then
Neeve was lifting the bucket, and she was doing her best to
hold up her end, and they swung it forward...and grayish,
cooled mop water splashed all over the very center of the
brawl, over the knot of injured and fallen men. Linnesse
heaved in a desperate breath, trying to get enough air to her
suddenly exhausted body- and staggered a step back and fell
panting onto a bench, her eyes on the results of her and
Neeve's work.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Sat Jun 28, 2008 9:11 pm
Adian


The feel of her soft skin against his lips made him lick them
as if trying to taste her still. His body had ached with
longing for her, but Adian had kept himself under
check...which was a good thing sometimes. He tied the laces of
his loose tunic...

Tatiana
 
"No, Adian. I didn't mind, I didn't mind that at all. I
enjoyed that, actually."


Tatiana's response better than he had hoped for. The way she
grinned back at him, and her green eyes meeting his...the way
his mind etched a memory of her body while the water shimmered
about it. When he was young, he had never liked to be tickled.
There were times when his mother would tickle him until it
just frustrated him, but when he grew older, he found it was a
great way to enter into seduction the fun way. Adian did not
know any man who did not think the same way. He liked to chase
women, so surprise them....but he rarely tickled them unless
by some strange quirk of circumstance, it occasion led to such
things. Then all he loved was to hear laughter.

But that was it. No doubt Tatiana loved to tickle, and he'd go
along with it...though one could never make too much of a good
thing. Heather gray eyes watched as she got out of the bath,
and he couldn't help but feel like a wolf as his eyes roamed
over her delicate figure...what her skin had felt like so
close to his. What baths could not do for the imagination...

The young man watched her dress as he moved over behind her,
reaching out to gather all of the long coppery strands in his
hands slowly beginning to run his fingers through the strands
to gently detangle them. so that the curles would stay, Adian
braided her hair without tying it when finished that way when
it dried, the braid would become loose...the way he liked
it...

Tatiana
 
"Yes, Adian. I'd like that very much since I've never
eaten by firelight before. Thank you for inviting me.
That sounds like a wonderful idea for her, love. I'm
sure Thorn would appreciate that from both of us."


Never eaten by firelight? This woman has been deprived...
Adian smiled at her acceptance of the invitation, "Not a
problem really. I love company...No need to go to the tavern
as I believe that I still have some food carefully stored in
my quarters..." In his heart, he felt like he was moving too
fast, but now that Thorn was dead, he wanted to...needed to
have someone in his life. Tatiana seemed too innocent right
now, but she had some qualities that he liked. Maybe, with
this one, starting out as friends would be a plan...

"Come, let's go and eat," Adian led her out of the baths, and they walked and talked until they arrived at his quarters...the some one he had shared with Thorn. Unlocking the door, Adian opened it and stepped aside to let Tatiana enter first...
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golden_trillium

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Author: sabor ice
Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 1:10 am
Alina


Alina's worn shoes were soaked and her feet chilled, and yet
she remained careless with each stride. She mindlessly sloshed
through puddles, muck saturating a good portion of the front
of her dress, every inch of her sopping wet. Lackadaisicalness
made her uncharacteristically clumsy, causing her to trip once
or twice, but she righted herself thoughtlessly and continued
onward. She hadn't in mind where she was going and therefore
found herself cradled against a building a few moments,
ironically not far from the tavern. She leaned against its
hard foundation and indifferently peered around the corner,
dark eyes trying to make out the shapes of men in the
distance.

The fighting seemed to have mostly subsided. Kolya stood aside
the mess, but Alina could not read his expression from where
she was. Gawain loomed over someone a moment and then
retreated to where another man was - she guessed Lancelot, but
couldn't be sure. Galahad lay relatively motionless on the
ground, his condition uncertain. A dry sob hitched up into
Alina's throat. She took a step in the young knight's
direction, but inexplicably faltered, shrinking back into the
shadows of the building. She clutched a hand to her chest,
fingers knotting about the fabric of her cloak. Her head
tipped back against the wall, hazy dark eyes peering up at the
unfavorable sky.

For her to go to Galahad now seemed somehow inappropriate. She
was the cause of his pain, so what right did she have thinking
she could fix him? Neeve was there, as was Linnesse, and both
were far more experienced healers than she. They had right to
be there now and she did not. Someone else would see to the
wounded. Someone would take care of Galahad far better than
she ever had.

Alina drew up her hood and pushed herself away from the
building, miserable as she trudged further away from the
scene. She walked for awhile, oblivious to her surroundings,
some time later finding herself up on the wall, but not
remembering even climbing the stairs to get there. Unseeing
brown eyes stared out at the frozen tundra that was Britain,
searching, searching...









Ash

There were two sides to Ash - the most prominent a seasoned
warrior, cold and calculated, ruthless and thirsty for Roman
blood. The second was a man of compassion, understanding, a
rare side of him often hidden from the world. For someone who
had been born and bred to fight, to defend, such a softness
was an unbecoming second nature for him. He had conditioned
himself to be distant, for the sake of not forming attachments
to any one person. It had nothing to do with personal
preference, but rather rationality. Attachments made it
difficult to let go, to move on in life after the death of a
loved one. It made a person lose focus. Ash had never wanted
loss to hinder his performance or to cloud his judgment. Of
course the Woad had never accounted for the consequences of
such solitude. Being ignorantly disconnected from the world
around him had left him bitter and very lonely in the end.

Eala had made it possible for him to feel something again.
Somehow through everything, she had managed to worm her way
into his heart, helping to fill in some of the emptiness - not
that he'd ever purposely admit to her how much he had come to
care. Ash wasn't one for pretty words.

The girl's sorrow was her own. Ash did not attempt to placate
her. Meddling with such torrential emotions was not his way.
He knew nothing of properly consoling another human being,
least of all a child whom had just lost the last of her blood
kin. He allowed her a moment or two as she fervently embraced
him, burying her tear-stricken face against his tunic. He
raised a hand that gently ruffled the blonde locks at the back
of her head, before resting it on her shoulder as she pulled
away, nodding. The despairing look in her eyes was
indescribably daunting.

There was a rowdy commotion still sounding in the distance,
and Ash hoped its distraction would hold out long enough to
cover their escape. He kept a desperate hold on Eala's hand as
he stealthily led her alongside the wall and behind the
stables. The side gate was a sprint away, and luckily for
them, still ajar a sliver from when he had let Guinevere's
party inside. The guards usually above it were nowhere to be
seen, and he took the momentary opportunity to hastily reach
the gate. He more-or-less shoved Eala's small form through the
opening, casting one last wary glance behind him, before
promptly following. The two disappeared into the frozen
thicket of the forest.
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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 8:00 am
Eyla


Eyla did not appreciate the interruption. The harlot believed
she was achieving something, but the Roman was clearly a busy
man. Did people constantly pester him so rudely? Did he ever
get a moment’s peace? Oh, but Eyla felt sorry for him. For a
brief moment. Artorius was the Commander of Badon Hill, and
surely such wealth had to be justified somehow. The Roman had
gained titles through birth…but Eyla had earnt her own. She
was a prostitute, a harlot, a whore…and she loved such
delectable terminology. It amused her. She was a beautiful
woman, and would use it to her own ends. People were merely
jealous, and bitter, and unsatisfied. Artorius’ attempts at
rejecting her were obsolete, because Eyla had already
experienced his want. She had lain naked with him on a stormy
night, and watched the shadows dance across their handsome
bodies. She had tasted him, felt him…but not fully experienced
him. But it was enough…for now. Eyla knew he could not resist
her forever…but it was a pleasant charade…

Eyla pressed one slender finger to the Roman’s lips, and
smiled playfully at him. Her words had been too flippant, and
she had allowed her guard down. Alas, she would not do it
again. Familiarity with patrons was dangerous, and Eyla never
sought such commitments. Her dark eyes blinked lazily,
dreamily at him. She did not want to continue this
conversation about her parents. There was no point to it, and
it was terribly boring. Let them discuss something else!
Pleasure perhaps? The woman knew plenty about that…

Arthur
 
“Come! We shall continue this conversation another time,
Eyla,”


Artorius brushed her fingers away gently, and Eyla pouted
petulantly. She did not care for their interruption, and
whoever it was…would probably be boring too. Why did the Roman
suffer such company? When he could pay Eyla a golden coin, and
keep her here for longer? Eyla rolled her eyes slightly. Yes,
she had peaked his interest, but the conversation was over.
The harlot did not dwell upon her past because it rendered
her…vulnerable, and that would never do. Reaching her delicate
fingers into her hair, she messed the curls slightly. The dark
hair curled thickly around her golden shoulders, and her eyes
sparkled with amusement. They would share more
conversations…but not concerning her mother and father.

Arthur
 
“Perhaps for now, you might endeavor to earn what I do
pay you for, hm?”


Eyla arched an eyebrow sharply, and laughed in feminine
amusement. That was a biting comment, but she quite liked it.
The way his tongue cut her so brutally, rejected her. Eyla did
not move from his side, but rather turned in her seat. She
looked to the door, and did not bother to conceal her
mischievous intent. Her smile was feline, tempting and
naughty, and her eyes glittered. What did they look like? The
resting Roman Commander, and the best-known harlot in the
fortress. Eyla arched her back on purpose, pushing out her
generous bosom…and making the situation seem as awkward and
interesting as possible. She half wanted their visitor to
suspect something immoral, and completely un-christian…

The door creaked open slowly, and a woman entered. Darya.
Eyla’s smile grew more amused, more flirtatious. The Sarmatian
woman wore a modest cloak, and she looked very pretty today,
dark and broody. Just like everyone else in this damned
fortress. Eyla tilted her head at the woman, and her mind
jumped sharply to conclusions. Oh, so was this Eyla’s
competition? A Sarmatian lady? Eyla quirked an eyebrow at
Arthur, almost rebuking him for keeping her secret. Oh, Eyla
loved competition….especially when that competition was a past
patron. The harlot had tasted Darya too, had felt the silken
want of Sarmatia. Indeed, they had been interrupted before
things got too interesting, but Eyla knew Darya’s weakness for
intrigue. And Arthur…apparently…

Darya
 
“I just wanted to see how you are doing…unless of course
I’m interrupting something…Since things were
rather…busy…this morning, I was wondering if you managed
to get at least some rest…”


Eyla laughed. She did not mock, but was rather amused by the
awkwardness that swamped the room. The harlot did not move
from Arthur’s side…and Darya appeared taken aback. Ah well, it
was to be expected no? Eyla was more beautiful than any other
woman in the fortress, and was worthy competition for the
Roman’s…lusts. Eyla curled a dark tendril around her finger
and patted the bed next to her, gesturing for Darya to join
them…

“Do not be silly, beauty. Come and sit with us…” Eyla smiled
at the Sarmatian. It was not a challenge at all. “Artorius and
I were just getting to know each other better. It seems he was
quite alone here…and then his prayers were answered. I
arrived.” Eyla winked one eye playfully, and her words were
thick with intent and honey. Eyla did not suffer from
jealousy, but she did like to make her presence known…and
anyway, she would have them both eventually. Looking rather
pleased with herself, she spoke again. “What can we do for you
Darya?”

Eyla did not mock, but she did manipulate appearances into
something…suspicious…
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 8:25 am
Vanora


Vanora met the eyes of the nuns and the healers as she moved
about. Vanora knew it'd not be hard to find a man like Bors
and with his voice, it'd be even easier....unless he was
asleep. Sometimes Bors, she felt, didn't get a whole lot of
sleep, and she hoped that was what he got while he was here.
It did not take her long to see Bors trying to sit up. Vanora
slowly approached him, and it was then that she saw Dagonet
and Saorise. Vanora had not yet fully reached where her lover was, but she did see him approach Dag's bed. Well, at least he could walk a bit better...

....Arriving finally at Dagonet's bedside, Vanora came and
stood next to Bors, placing a firm but gentle hand on his
shoulder while her brown eyes looked at Dag. Something
happened inside Bors though because he had turned from Dag
with a frown. There was still that anguished look in the tall,
quiet knight's eyes, and figured that that was what made Bors
gimmace. This day had not been one to recall because of all of
the sadness that had spread: One was when she related to Adian
how Thorn had died, and the other was the death of Gedeon. Two
diffrent tragedies, but they both affected her greatly. She
wanted to attempt to brighten the situation, though there was
really no cure for sorrow...

Bors
 
"Take care of yerself ay?" "Don't... don't take on too
much..."


The way the big, calloused hand that was made to handle
weapons, now rested on his best friend's arm...well Vanora
could feel the tears coming, but they rested on the brim of
her eyes refusing to fall. With a small smile, Vanora
attempted to smile, "Dag, has he been depriving you of sleep
again, you poor man." She gave them both a teasing smile and
nudged Bors a bit playfully, as she continued, "Come to take
him home. Haven't seen him much what with the mission and
such...it'd be nice to spoil him just a wee bit." Leaning
over, she gave Bors a kiss on the cheek. She guessed that
Saorise and Dag wanted to spend some time together as well,
and having Bors near did not make it easy....

Everytime Bors came home, she thanked the gods. She did not
know where she would ever be without him...
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golden_trillium

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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 8:54 am
Nolan and Ceinwyn


Oh, but the situation was not losing control. Nolan had the
Romans exactly where he wanted, and it had been easier than he
suspected. He had thought to find them deep in the woodland,
not trapped within a small hut. It was unfortunate for them.
The hostages were a necessary complication, but negotiations
would be made. Merlin had ordered it. The Woad warrior stood
firm and strong, and his eyes burnt with hostility. Ceinwyn
stood readily at his side, and she…was useful. She aided in
their façade of strength and lack of mercy. If the Romans
would fight…then they would die. Nolan was prepared for that.
And the Sarmatian? It was not his war, and yet he fought on
the side of his own enemy. He was a slave, and therefore a
loss if they decided to fight. But he had been the first to
leave the hut, and therefore the bravest. He would be worth
keeping a close eye upon…Nolan’s blue fingers gripped his
daggers, and his dusty and painted cheeks cracked as he
grunted in distaste. He did not favour this exchange of tense
words, he was born to fight and defend his people. And he was
quickly growing impatient.

Neeria
 
”You will not touch the Sarmatian. Do what you want to
the Romans, but leave the scout.”


Nolan turned at the voice, and his jaw tensed visibly. Neeria
the traitor sought to give demands? Truly? Was she jesting?
The Woad warrior sneered at her, and his top lip curled back
in disgust. Nolan did not care for her feelings, nor her
attempts at negotiation…because she was a filthy traitor and
would be treated thus. The Woad woman had led them directly to
her people, and she dared give orders? Nolan’s green eyes
burnt hard, and he glared at Neeria. She would shut up…or die.
He would not hesitate in proclaiming her a ‘necessary loss’ to
Merlin…because people died in skirmishes. Especially
treacherous bitches…

Ceinwyn looked over to the woman, and gritted her teeth. There
was something in the Woad’s eyes that Ceinwyn did not trust,
did not favour. Ceinwyn winced when Neeria attempted to defend
the Sarmatian. She was acting foolishly and without care for
the repercussions. Neeria would be killed if she continued!
But Ceinwyn was also intrigued. Indeed, her lack of sanity and
rational thought caused her to look at Tristan. Her green eyes
took him in, but it was not admiration nor interest. It was
hatred. Hatred for slaves…

She bared her teeth at him.

Another man emerged from the hut. A Roman, and Nolan looked at
him, almost bored. He was an older Roman, perhaps matured in
experience…but Nolan was not intimidated. It would take more
than status and wealth to push him into fear.

Malcus
 
“There is no war today, woad, Our request has been made.
We wish to speak with Merlin on the request of Arthur
Castus. There need not be any further bloodshed. Ask
your men to stand down as we are clearly out-numbered.
Now, let’s stop fucking around. Where is Merlin?”


Amadeus
 
"Our numbers are made more by those who will follow our
tracks should we not return by nightfall. Now, woad,
either take us to Merlin or bring Merlin here so that we
might carry out our duty under the name of Arthur
Castus."


Ah, Nolan recognized the last voice. It was more noble than
the first. Nolan saw movement in the hut, but the speaker did
not emerge. Was he frightened? Was he hiding behind his
servants? Nolan almost smiled, but he did not. He listened
with an impatient ear to both men’s declarations, and did not
answer immediately. Nolan looked instead to the Sarmatian, and
he watched as the knife blade was lowered from the hostage’s
throat. The Woad nodded in approval. Good faith? Perhaps.
Nolan was less interested in the Sarmatian, than the Roman
cowards that spoke confidently but without substance for
assurance.

“We will take the trail North. Merlin has granted you an easy
passage, you should be grateful for it.” Nolan’s words were
thick with grittiness. He did not want to lead them anywhere.
Death was more suited to the enemy. The Woad turned to
Ceinwyn, and they exchanged a hard look. It was deliberately
dismissive of Neeria’s previous status among the clan. She was
useless to them, unworthy and treacherous. Indeed, Nolan
harbored distrust for Ceinwyn too…but she had shown loyalty
when snapping the First Knight’s fingers…one at a time. It was
a worthy reassurance, for now. The woman’s eyes were still
fiery, maddened, and Nolan noticed her fingers twitching at
her sides. Ceinwyn was not well, but her physical state was
stronger than most of the injured army. She was an asset at
present. Turning back to the Romans, Nolan ignored Barbattus.
The name of Arthur Castus was good leverage, but who spoke it?
Nolan could not fully see the coward. He spoke again. “You
will follow us North. And if Merlin still wants you alive?
Then you shall live, and he will meet us when he chooses...”

Turning on his heel, Nolan paced towards Neeria. He placed a
heavy hand on her shoulder, pushing aggressively into the
joint to get her attention. His thumb twisted against her
skin, and he pulled her close, speaking in her ear. His voice
was low, heavy with masculine timbre. “If you ever seek to
argue with me again…or voice opinions that are worth less than
Roman blood? I will make you suffer for it. We’ve suffered
many losses, more than you could imagine…so do not try my
patience. It is not wise.”

Nolan glared down at her…and Ceinwyn? She glared hard at
Tristan. The Woads began to inch back into the woodland, but
slow enough for the enemy to follow.
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