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June 2008
Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,690 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 1:58 pm
Tatiana


Feeling Adian's fingers in her hair, while she dressed made
Tatiana pause slightly enjoying the shivery, butterflylike
sensations that his ministrations awoke in her as he gently
disentangled the strands then loosely braided, without tying
her hair. Wow! That feels nice. I really liked that.

Adian
 
"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..." "Come, let's go and
eat,"


Reaching his quarters, he unlocked the door and allowed her to
enter first. "Wow, Adian. This is a really nice place you have
here. Thank you for sharing this with me." Tatiana said awe in
her voice as she stepped over the threshold into his quarters,
looking over her shoulder back at the carpenter, meeting his
heather gray eyes with her green ones, bright with excitement
at what she saw.

Walking a bit further inside of the room until she stood in
the center of his quarters, her back facing the door and Adian
keeping her hands down at her sides, she allowed her eyes,
however do the touching of the items as she turned her head to
take in everything since he'd not yet given her his permission
to touch anything as yet.

"Is there anything that I can help you with food or
otherwise?" She asked polietly after glancing at everything
and noting the two beds that also stood in the room that
helped give off a warm, comfortable homey-like feel to the
interior of his quarters.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 2:15 pm
Dagonet


Dagonet watched Bors wincing while standing up. The tall man's
muscles went tense and thigh from just seeing it. Normally he
would stand by his friend ready to be of any help, and right
now he could not even stand from his own bed. He hand squeezed
briefly Saoirse's shoulder in quiet struggle and
helplessness...

Bors
 
"Yeah, yeah I fink I will,"


Injured Sarmatian nodded his head and tension in him loosened
as he saw Bors standing on his own... being able to walk by
himself, it brought some reliefe to him.

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


Dagonet looked into Bors's eyes as he spoke up and put hand
upon his arm. This short words and touch of support was very
meaningful to the injured knight. He know of what Bors was
talking. Too much... He had enough pain and problems. He had
enough of everything. But all he could to answer to his friend
was the sad and very painful look... It would take time to
gather his strenghts... It would take time to stand up... and
be himself once again.

He nodded slowly his head wordlessly, knowing that Bors
understood everything about the situation. He was there to see
Dagonet in his worst moments of life... he was there to drag
him away from arms of death... He saw Dagonet dying in pain
and yet stood by him and helped him to return.

Bors was the one who ordered him to come back, he was the one
to keep him alive.

Dagonet was very greatful for that, but even so, that didn't
change how he felt about this... About loosing his child...

Vanora
 
"Dag, has he been depriving you of sleep again, you poor
man."


Vanora came to them and stood by Bors's side, speaking before
Dagonet oppened his mouth to answer to his friend. He gave
Vanora a little, very weak smile...

Vanora
 
"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."


"Good...." he said and motion with his head towards Bors's
leg. "Don't let him walk too much with this and he has to be
back here in two days." he informed her, knowing that Bors
would not tell her all. He sent Bors don't argue with me look.

He closed his eyes slowly, he should be sleeping... He felt
very weak right now, tired with all the talking and guests.
Slowly oppening eyes back he winced a little at the numb
feeling in his side, and shifted a little in his bed.

"I'll be fine.... I need only some rest" he murmured not even
believing it himself, but he had to play strong, as always.
"I'll take it easly, Bors" he assured him and tried a little
very sad smile at him.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 8:38 pm
Malcus Barbattus and Neeria


Nolan
 
“We will take the trail North. Merlin has granted you an
easy passage, you should be grateful for it. You will
follow us North. And if Merlin still wants you alive?
Then you shall live, and he will meet us when he
chooses...”


Malcus looked at Scipio and shook his head just enough for the
optio to see. Barbattus knew who the skinny blue man was but,
he, Barbattus, was still not going to take orders from him.

"Sorry mate, but we're not following you anywhere," Malcus
glared at the tall man. Barbattus was far too wise to follow
these woads into the woods. How could these blue demons be
trusted? Especially that crazed, feral-looking one baring her
teeth.

"It would be best to send word to Merlin and have him come
here and meet with us. We will be obliged to wait." Malcus
narrowed his gaze onto Nolan, then turned his attention to the
optio, hoping beyond hope that the man would agree and not try
to flex his arrogance yet again. Hopefully Scipio would
understand that Malcus wanted to give the impression that
their party still, somehow, had the upper hand.

Neeria saw Tristan emerge from the small hut and lower the
blade from the man's throat. She sighed of relief.

Nolan's bony fingers suddenly dug into Neeria's shoulder, but
the warrior refused to cry out. She refused to let Nolan
intimidate her, before hearing the facts. Neeria was
Guinevere's finest, woe to Nolan that he should forget it.
Neeria, alone, had almost bested Arthur Castus himself!

Nolan
 
“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.”


Neeria's dark eyes clouded over and she pulled back her lips,
baring her teeth. She reached up, grabbing Nolan's hand,
digging her ragged fingernails into him and scratching a long
stretch of skin.

"Release me, you fool! How dare you speak of losses when my
own beloved Mikel's body is not even cold yet! Your hatred has
blinded you. I have not betrayed Merlin and you'd better know
it! The slave is no better or no worse than we are. You will
leave him," she hissed.

Neeria sank her nails into the man's hand even deeper.

"It is you who forgets, Nolan," she growled. Neeria flexed her
weary muscles, oblivious now to the pain in her wounded side,
and released Nolan's bloody hand.







Titrus

Quintus
 
"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! The front guards...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."


Bloody hell. All bloody hell had broken loose and apparently
so had Eala.

"Have you alerted the gates?" Titrus screamed at the
centurion.

Four soldiers were standing by, waiting for instructions.

"You! You, you and you!" go to the main gate and alert the
high patrol to keep watch over the wall. Then alert the
mounted guard to send out a search party. Do it NOW!"

"Oy, sir" the soldiers said in unison and scattered quickly.

Barbattus would have his head. Titrus would be punished and
what could he say? That he was with a whore when the prisoners
escaped? He cringed at the thought. He suddenly got a
headache. Maybe he could work this out, but he doubted it.

Titrus looked back at Quintus who stood at 'attention' waiting
for instructions or orders.

"We will pay a high price with fat from our arses for this,"
Titrus growled at Quintus.

Had Eala escaped on her own or did she have help? Then Titrus
thought of the fallen guard. Did Eala kill him? Or her
probable accomplice? If Eala killed a Roman guard, she would
be executed on the spot. Titrus became angry with himself for
being soft with her. Fool!

"Move the man's body to the infirmary for proper rites,"
Titrus said. "I will notify his widow," Titrus said with a growl in his voice.

Just then, Titrus saw Brendyn.

Quintus
 
"GET GOING, SOLDIER!!"


Titrus nodded as Brendyn took off.

"Quintus, send 2 squads into the prison to double check all
cells to make sure that they're locked and that no one else
has escaped. Make them move in double time. Then notify the
squad commanders that we're going on lock-down while we do a
door to door search looking for the prisoner. I'm going to the
wall and will be back here in a few minutes. See if the
Sarmatians have finished fighting and are sober enough to
help."
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Jun 29, 2008 9:01 pm
Brendyn


The young soldier moved stealthily through the torch lit hall
of the dungeons. He was unarmed as he found no need to carry a
weapon where he had been a major portion of the day, but he
could do hand to hand if needed. Voices cried out in the
gloomy misery of the dungeons: misery of their own making.
Brendyn braced his palms on the damp wall behind him as he
leaned against it and moved closer to the other entrance/exit.
In his mind, he tried to think logically about where, if one
had escaped, would one go? Well, there certainly was not a
whole lot of chaos down here...but up topside. Brendyn deduced
that if he were the one to escape, why would he tarry down
here? SHIT! Brendyn moved toward the exit way he found, and
slowly went up the stairs as if hoping to catch the escapee if
she tried this exit.....

The wound under his shoulder was feeling better, but it still
left him know that he had done some hard labor today, and now
it was a dull ache. Nothing to worry about. He was now three
steps from the top. Somewhere nearby, Brendyn thought he heard
fighting of some sort...

Woads were smart, and just perhaps...

Leaving the dungeons, he moved off to continue the search.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 1:40 am
Galahad and Kolya


Galahad heard Lancelot's scream after him but he grit his
teeth and ignored the words. Permission? He did not seek
permission! This had nothing to do with Lancelot, or Gawain or
anyone else except Kolya, Alina and himself. But right now
Galahad didn't care that the whole fort was involved. He
wasn't thinking about reputation and such frivolous things.
His heart had been hurt, his dignity and pride had been
severely dented.

Kolya’s words sunk in... somewhere along the way they sunk in
and it just drove teh rage even harder. Who was this man to
speak of Alina as if they were lovers? As if they had sworn
love to each other the way he had with her!? Who was ... had
they? Had she told him that she loved him?

Despaired, Galahad reacted, darting forward..

... only to come a-cropper when Gawain stood directly in front
of him. The curly haired knight gurgled when his momentum
forced him into a full on collision with the blonde knight.
The air was sucked from his lungs and no more replaced it.
Galahad fell backwards and his two hands reached for his neck,
despite teh pain in his arms from fighting. He lifted his
knees up to his stomach, gasping for air and then rolled to
his side. His eyes were bulging and seeing dots, painfully
bright dots!

Gawain
 
“I told you to stop, damn it,”


Gawain's knee pressed into his chets...

Galahad looked up with pitifu blue eyes at his friend,
pleading with him to just let him finish this but he already
knew that he wasn't going to be allowed. The young Knight
grimaced, flinching away as he waited for the punch that he
knew he deserved. And it landed. Hard. Galahad's blurred
vision faltered, but just before unconsciousness took severe
hold, he thought he saw Alina, her hand to her chest, watching
him. Watching Kolya?

A moment later cold water fell down upon him, splashing into
his open mouth. Galahad hacked, his body convulsing and he
turned to the side, coughing and spluttering in
semi-consciousness, the sound of distant laughter something
his imagination had surely conjured.

Kolya had had enough. He knew from the start that it had been
an unfair fight, but if the little prick wanted it then he was
willing to give it. But not indefinitely, and it seemed
Galahad was not willing to admit when he was beaten. So the
older Sarmatian became the bigger man and took a step back.
His chest was aching, it throbbed with every breath. His lip
was split and his knuckles bruised. He had received a punch in
the stomach earlier too which would leave a hefty mark he
reckoned.

He spat blood to one side as he watched the blonde knight step
in front of him, breaking up the fight. The dark one,
Lancelot, had already screamed in frustration at the whole
thing and was currently laughing.

Kolya snorted in dark amusement, watching the dark haired male
but soon the insane laughter was catching. He croaked a broken
laugh and shook his head, eyes turned skywards as Gawain
landed the final punch that put Galahad out of the game.

Gawain
 
“What the hell’s so funny?”


Oh what wasn't funny?!

Kolya lifted a hand to his face and gave a sudden shout of
protest when his already mucky, wet, sore body was assaulted
once more - this time by water. Because he was standing and
taller than the women who threw it, the water hit him about
the chest and waist and legs rather than a dousing upon his
head. Furious, he turned a fierce glare on the culprits,
surprised to see two women, two bloody, fucking women standing
with the mop bucket between them.

His furious face was terrifying, his fierce blue eyes glinting
hard and unforgiving, coupled with the large, flexing muscles
of his arms he looked a right menace. However, after a short
moment of looking at the two women - one a tiny blonde thing
who looked almost as flattened as Galahad was right now, and
the other a petulant looking thing with odd hair but slight,
still... he broke out into a laugh.

Throwing his head back, Kolya let out a loud and boisterous
laugh, his maniac chuckle almost a match for Lancelot's as he
looked across the saturated ground towards the First Knight.
The laughter wasn't entirely genuine though. It had an edge to
it, a suggestion of being unhinged.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: sabor ice
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 2:23 am
Mordred


Mordred sighed impatiently, giving a derisive snort when Nolan
demanded his party to relinquish their weapons. His fingers
flexed about the hilt of Dalmascas, aching to wield the fine
blade again, to add to its impressive body count. But, he did
not move. At such a time aggressiveness would be futile and
detrimental to his health, he well noted.

Neeria spoke up on Tristan's behalf - which admittedly
surprised Mordred - but left him appalled and disbelieving at
the same time. He knew little of Tristan - most probably did -
but he was competent enough to view the Sarmatian as isolated,
unfriendly, and deadly should the opportunity call for it.
What part of the man's dangerous and enigmatic personality
screamed rainbows and butterflies exactly? A fucking tea party
maybe? Was this how the Woad bitch truly thought, that
Tristan, or any of her enemy for that matter, might be her
knight in shining armor? It was lunacy, and twisted as
Mordred's thoughts may have been, he couldn't understand the
woman's motives behind this ploy.

Malcus
 
It would be best to send word to Merlin and have him come here and meet with us. We will be obliged to wait."


Oh, for fuck's sake! Barbattus was an idiot! A huge liability
at his inability to shut his fucking mouth! He was going to
get them all killed before Merlin even graced them with his
traitorous presence! Sure the lot of them were surrounded by
the blue devils, but Mordred was the one sitting helplessly in
the middle of it with an enemy's weapon nearly up his ass -
not that he expected such a notion to have ever occurred to
the inept miscreant commander whose bark was far worse than
his bite. He was up shit creek without a paddle alone,
seemingly in a dangerous frame of mind that suggested mania.
His impulses were exceptionally panicky.

Amadeus
 
"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."


It took everything in Mordred's power to not break his
unfathomableness and outwardly groan. Obviously he had been
hallucinatory believing the clever Optio might've had a few
tricks up his sleeve. Mordred was not a man of faith, of God
or of Man, and now he knew why.

Scipio wasn't coming out of that hut.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 2:44 am
Drake


Drake had never figured out if he truly had loved Cecile.
There had been an undeniable affection, but he questionned
whether he had loved her or loved the idea of her. If she had
betrayed him the way she had been accused of then she was not
the woman that he loved... the woman that he loved would never
have cuckolded him as Cecile had, she would never have given
birth to another man's child and pretended that it was his...
and yet he had enjoyed her, he had taken solace in her smile,
in the darkness of her eyes and the soft touch of her hand
upon his hard body.

And she had sworn that she loved him. It had been the last
coherent utterance from her beautiful, bloodied lips, when he
had kissed her before walking out of his house forever.

The Spaniard shuddered at the vivid memory. He could smell the
smoke, the smell of burning flesh even now...

Linnette
 
"I know."


Her hand moved.

Drake dipped his head a little, looking at her tiny hand
covering her flat stomach. He felt bile rise in his throat -
the baby. His lips parted just above her ear but he held his
breath, held his words.

That isn't what I meant... he thought.

Linnette broke the embrace and turned to face him. Drake
looked down at her, his hands falling to his side loosely, his
shoulders pulled back, as ever his jaw giving an awkward
twitch as the silence echoed between them.

Linnette
 
"I'm sorry about your family. You didn't deserve that,
either,"


No one had ever put it like that. No one had ever told him he
didn't deserve the hurt and hardship of losing his family. And
Drake took her words and used them as a balm to his guilty
conscience -- perhaps she would mean that he didn't deserve to
have been left with no choice but to kill his brother and
wife, to lose his sons to infidelity and then death. Perhaps
if she knew she might still say the same things. Perhaps..
The Spaniard blinked and in that split second things had
changed. Linnette looked as if she would cry again, her bottom
lip giving a tell-tale tremble and all of a sudden she had her
arms about his waist, her cheek against his chest.

Goosebumps whirled up and down his spine and arms as he
instinctively ensconced her within the safe, warm confines of
his body. His arms criss-crossed over her back and his hands
held onto her - one upon her shoulder, the other on her hip,
holding her securely but not tightly. She was crying, he cuold
feel the heat of her tears against his chest, seeping through
the new tunic he had put on.

Finally Drake let go of the breath he was holding. He sighed
raggedly and moved his hand from her shoulder to the back of
her head, his fingers gently touching the auburn locks of hair
in a means to comfort. She felt so very tiny, fragile in his
arms. A stray thought flickered though his brain of how
breakable she was physically, how easily crushed despite her
tenacious spirit that raged and railed against the intense
pain of losing a loved one.

For the longest time he just held her, letting her cry against
his chest.

"Come on... Sit down and give orders. Women are good at that."
he coaxed with a gentle but hopeful smile, looking down at
Linnette but keepign a hand on the small of her back and the
other one gently cupping the back of her head.









Amadeus

Nolan
 
“We will take the trail North. Merlin has granted you an
easy passage, you should be grateful for it. You will
follow us North. And if Merlin still wants you alive?
Then you shall live, and he will meet us when he
chooses...”


Amadeus' chin lifted. He had won out on the weapons front
then, had he? Tensing his sharp jaw, the Roman half turned to
look at Tristan, sheathing his own weapon quietly whilst
looking regretfully at the blade beneath the woad's neck. And
as proof to the Optio that Tristan was as loyal as a Sarmatian
ever could be, the Scout waited a moment to be told to remove
the blade from his throat. However, as he was about to tell
Tristan to get the other two woads, planning on taking one
with him, Malcus outside the hut spoke up...

Malcus
 
"Sorry mate, but we're not following you anywhere, It
would be best to send word to Merlin and have him come
here and meet with us. We will be obliged to wait."


Amadeus snapped around to the front, even going so far as to
take a step closer to the mouth of the hut. He glared hard at
Malcus, all authority and strength as he silently warned
Barbattus not to speak another word on anyone's behalf. And
here he had thought the Sarmatian would be the problem!
Tristan was proving quite a handy second-hand man to have
about, following orders with an eerie, granted, but efficient
silence. Barbattus was assuming a control of the situation
that was not his to assume!

"Captain!" Amadeus hissed, his grey eyes flickering beyond to
where the woad leader was grappling with the woad traitor
wench that they had brought with them. "Still your tongue. You
are the muscle not the brains of this operation." he sneered
viciously and turned back to Tristan.

"We will take one each on our horses as a sign of good faith."
Amadeus said loudly enough to be heard outside the hut by
Nolan. Of course it was not so much good faith as an insurance
policy... Amadeus intended to have a woad close by the gut
should he get a bad feeling about any of this leading north
business. And there were three woads left.

One on Mordred's horse, one on Barbattus' and one on
Tristan's... assuming the woad bitch was going to be dragged
along in the muck behind them. If not then he would indeed
suffer a woad upon his saddle.

Insurance.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 8:39 am
Tristan and Merlin


Nolan
 
“We will take the trail North. Merlin has granted you an
easy passage, you should be grateful for it. You will
follow us North. And if Merlin still wants you alive?
Then you shall live, and he will meet us when he
chooses.”


Neeria
 
"Release me, you fool! How dare you speak of losses when
my own beloved Mikel's body is not even cold yet! Your
hatred has blinded you. I have not betrayed Merlin and
you'd better know it! The slave is no better or no worse
than we are. You will leave him. It is you who forgets,
Nolan."


Malcus
 
"Sorry, mate, but we're not following you anywhere. It
would be best to send word to Merlin and have him come
here and meet with us. We will wait."


Amadeus
 
"Captain! Still your tongue. You are the muscle, not the
brains, of this operation. We will take one each on our
horses as a sign of good faith."


Good faith? Tristan raised an eyebrow at the Optio, permitting
himself to show a little skepticism. Surely it would be
obvious to everyone that there was no "good faith" involved,
only a desire to have prisoners at their mercy, and frankly,
the proposition of getting three more Woads up on horses
seemed to the scout to be much more trouble than it was worth.
Look how much of a bother one had been! Tristan looked
scornfully over to where Neeria was snapping argumentatively
at the leader of the Woads, tugging at his restraining hand,
with her fingernails digging into his skin. Spitfire, devil
woman...but he ignored her and let her fellow tribesman deal
with her. Instead, his eyes shifted over past Barbattus and
back to the Optio, wondering if there was any way he could
voice a suggestion so that it might be heeded, or even indeed
what he should suggest. Negotiations weren't his place- he
knew nothing of diplomacy. He was just the man they called in
when they needed either scouting or quick, efficient killing
done. But even he could see that Scipio's two goals of talk,
and hiding behind prisoners, might not both be possible at
once.

"Sir..." he began in a low, barely-there voice, not even
knowing what else he was going to say...but as luck would have
it, he was saved from the trouble of going on. A movement
caught his eye, one at the edge of the trees across from the
hut's door, and another group of Woads emerged from the
forest. This one was slightly smaller, and closer packed, than
the first, but there was scarcely any need to notice the great
mass of them. Looking at them, one's eye was drawn inexorably
towards the man who stood front and center, face and chest
painted blue, a fur around his shoulders making him look much
larger than he really was, arms crossed and surveying the
deserted camp as though he saw every detail of it without even
having to look. Instantly the attention of all the Woads in
the clearing turned towards him, attentively they awaited any
word or gesture from him, and he stepped into the clearing
with an easy confidence, his people at his back, his
all-knowing eyes everywhere. There was no need for them to go
to Merlin- Merlin the Magician had come to them.

"Found them, I see," Merlin nodded easily to Nolan. His sharp
gaze took in all the details of the happenings in the
clearing- the four horses at its center, the traitor Neeria,
the mounted Roman- who, he now recognized, was one they had
captured before- the one on foot before the hut, and the two
others lurking in its shadows- but his voice revealed no
concern; he might have been chatting with Nolan at the
fireside, for all his words betrayed.

"What do they want?" he asked his lieutenant, supremely
ignoring the enemy for now- or at least appearing to ignore
them. Tristan knew very well that the Magician saw everything,
almost as well as he himself did. Pressing his lips together
in a thin line, the scout readjusted the knife a little closer
to the neck of the Woad he held, in silent answer to the
sudden hopeful tension that had sprung up in the man's body at
the sight of his leader. This one wouldn't get away
unexpectedly- that was at least one thing Tristan could be
sure of.











Quintus

Titrus
 
"Quintus, send two squads into the prison to double check all cells to make sure that they're locked and that no one else has escaped. Make them move in double time. Then notify the squad commanders that we're going on lock-down while we do a door to door search looking for the prisoner. I'm going to the wall and will be back here in a few minutes. See if the Sarmatians have finished fighting and are sober enough to help."


"Aye, sir." Quintus answered gruffly as Titrus whirled off in
the direction of the wall. Every soldier in the fort seemed to
have been alerted by now- well, except for those involved in
that thrice-damned brawl- and it wasn't hard to find the
requisite squads to send down to the cells. The
building-to-building search was already underway, but now it
expanded, moving outward from the main courtyard into the
smaller ones, the barracks and the houses of the craftsmen-
and still no one shouted "found her", or pulled their hand
back from some dark corner after being bitten. No one had seen
even a hint of the girl's wispy blonde hair. Fuck it!

Latest round of orders given, Quintus strode across the
courtyard to the tavern entrance, where happily, the fight
seemed to be dying down. When he was nearly there, a splash of
water gushed over men and flagstones, and Quintus caught a
glimpse from behind the men of two women holding a bucket
between them. Not a bad idea, that- at least to get their
attention.

"Enough- get up," the Centurion growled as he went among the
men, here yanking one to his feet, here kicking at one who
ought to get himself up but was malingering. The young
Sarmatian- Galahad- appeared to be out cold, and Quintus left
him where he was after a brief, dispassionate look.

"While you lot have been bloody killing each other, a
prisoner's got out. So unless you're fucking dead, join the
search." He hurried several men on their way with prods in the
shoulder or the back, then turned to the Sarmatians, who were
still hanging around, the older one laughing maniacally.

"You too- but somebody help him," he pointed at the boy lying
unconscious on the ground. He really couldn't stay here,
Quintus supposed, tempting as it was to just leave him there.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Darya
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 9:31 am
Neeve


So Neeve and Linnesse indeed did what they thought they could
do to make an end to the ridiculous brawl in front of the
tavern door. And the raven-haired woman could not help but
look satisfied, perhaps a bit smug, at the now water-soaked
men. She did not feel the least bit sorry for what she and
Linnesse had just done. Her blue eyes assessed each of the
more or less battered men…and narrowed slightly when they met
another pair of piercing blue eyes, which belonged to the
oldest of the men (Kolya). For a moment, he looked more than
upset and Neeve pretty much expected him to snarl…bite…do
something…but instead, he joined Lancelot’s laughter with his
own.

The healer just shook her head slightly… She was not amused.
Definitely not amused. Especially as all she saw in the small
crowd before her was work. Bruises, split lips, no doubt
re-opened battle wounds…and perhaps some at least partially
fractured bones. Galahad looked most miserable of them all and
she already saw him back in the infirmary.

“Are we done yet?”, the Briton growled at the Sarmatians and
shot almost reproachful looks at Gawain for having joined the
fight despite his injury and at Lancelot, who seemed to be
overly amused by the situation which to Neeve was somewhat
annoying. But before she could say anything else, a Roman
officer – Centurion by the looks of his armour – approached
them and she had no doubt that he was even less amused by the
scenario than she was…

Quintus
 
"Enough- get up… While you lot have been bloody killing
each other, a prisoner's got out. So unless you're
fucking dead, join the search. You too- but somebody
help him,"


The raven-haired arched an eyebrow at the news of an escaped
prisoner. This day was just getting better and better. And she
had yet to get a bowl of soup to a no doubt very hungry
Commander. Sniffing, Neeve then looked at Linnesse, who was
sitting on the bench next to the door. She looked exhausted…
“Are you alright?”, the healer asked the other woman and
scrutinized the blonde while waiting for a reply.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 11:27 am
Linnette


Drake
 
"Come on...sit down and give orders. Women are good at
that."


That brought a laugh through her sadness, accompanied by
visions of Vanora, ordering things as she wanted them in the
tavern, of Mother Lavinia, ruling the infirmary with an iron
fist, and even of Judith, back at the Villa, whom Linnette
realized in that instant that she missed quite a lot. Linnette
was nowhere near as redoubtable as any of those ladies, she
was sure, but Drake's words invited the comparison. She broke
the embrace and stepped back from him, wiping at her eyes with
Vanora's borrowed handkerchief, which she had secured in her
belt pouch, and laughing softly.

"And men aren't?" she asked him, eying him up and down in a
way that was almost, maybe, cheeky, or joking. The tension she
had been carrying inside her had been released, albeit
temporarily and partially, by the tears, and left a bit more
ease of emotion in their wake. For now.

"Well..." Linnette cast her eyes around the room as she
propped herself against the small table, not really sitting on
it, but not really standing on her own, either. Just leaning,
resting a bit.

"Perhaps take the things off the bed? The tapestry, and the
blankets, and..." she gestured toward Gedeon's saddlebags
without naming them, but Drake would understand what she
meant. She had hoped to take care of those herself, and
indeed, most of this herself, but she had realized now that
her broken hand wouldn't stand for that. Light tasks only-
unfortunately.

"And then start moving them to the new room? I can pack the
rest of the clothes.." she eyed the dresser somewhat wearily-
it was Gedeon's clothes and miscellaneous oddments that were
still in there. But they were all small, light things, and her
body could manage them well enough, even if it was difficult
for her mind.

"And does the room have furniture?" she asked, a hint of a
smile returning as she became aware that she was parroting the
same question she had asked him not too long ago, the one that
he had not answered.











Linnesse

Neeve
 
"Are you all right?"


"Yes...yes, I'm fine," Linnesse assured Neeve in a rather
breathless voice. She was still breathing hard with the effort
of helping with the bucket, and furthermore, she had not liked
the way that man from the brawl had been looking at her and
Neeve- the same man, as she seemed to remember, who had come
into her sickroom two mornings ago while Linnette was there
and been chased of by Drake. Drake again...always showing up
where Linnette was! Linnesse shook her head, clearing the odd
memory for now, but vowing again to ask her sister about it as
soon as she got a chance, and talk to Drake himself if
necessary, or ask Derfel to do so. Drake might seem kind to
Linnette, but Linnesse privately thought it unlikely that his
motives, whatever exactly they were, were completely pure. But
she would see to that soon, get it sorted out, make sure
Linnette was all right and not taken advantage of.

"It was just heavy," she now continued, placing a hand on the
table in back of the bench she had fallen onto and levering
herself up, feeling just a little unsteady on her feet, but
not too bad. Just outside the entrance, a Centurion was
bullying the erstwhile brawlers off to duties again- and he
was saying something about a prisoner having escaped. So that
was what all the rest of the fuss was about, then- well, at
least it wasn't an attack. Still, her eyes went back nervously
over to Derfel before she looked back at Neeve, just making
sure he was still there. She didn't want to walk back to the
knights' quarters alone.

"It was a good idea," she affirmed to Neeve with a smile as
the men began to disperse, many nursing bruises or cuts of one
kind an another- though Galahad still lay on the ground,
coughing slightly on the water, and Linnesse's face turned
anxious as she waited a moment to see if he'd open his eyes.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Eledhwen
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 11:57 am

Bors


Bors jumped a little as he sensed a warm, feminine presence
beside him, and turned to smile down at his Vanora, surprised
at how delighted he was to see her. She always had a way of
making everything alright, of calming his spirits, of making
him see that not everything had to be solved with a fight...

Why did she love him - this young, beautiful, intelligent
woman? He often wondered, but always put the thought from his
head. It didn't do to question the Gods too much... they had a
habit of taking things away if they thought you might be
getting too happy, too complacent. Wasn't that what had
happened to Dag after all?

Vanora
 
"Dag, has he been depriving you of sleep again, you
poor man. 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."


Looking down at his friend again now as Vanora spoke his smile
faded a little, to be replaced by a slight frown. Yeah, Dag
had been too happy... a son he hadn't known exsisted turning
up to claim his long lost father, only too die too young, too
soon, before they had hardly time to get to know one another.
A new daughter... snatched away by her mother and delivered
the Gods knew where, and for what? What did Saoirse get out of
that? Bors would never understand it, never.

He shook his head slightly and turned back to his own
fiery-haired love. No, it didn't do to be too happy.

Dagonet
 
"Good.... Don't let him walk too much with this and he
has to be back here in two days."


Eyes widened as he shot a look of daggers towards his friend.
Dagonet knew him too damn well - knew he wouldn't have
bothered coming back, knew he wouldn't have told Vanora
himself because she would have made him return. Now there was
no getting out of it.

"Yeah, fanks Dag," he mumbled, shuffling his feet as he put
his arm round Vanora's slight shoulders. "Fanks a lot."

He grinned then, more of a grimace, but he knew Dagonet would
take it as it was meant - a small show of gratitude to get
around Bors' stubborn streak without him losing face. Dagonet
knew him very well indeed.

"You sure you'll be alright mate?" he asked with concern
before he left.

Dagonet
 
"I'll be fine.... I need only some rest. I'll take it
easly, Bors"


"Hmph," Bors muttered under his breath, knowing that the day
Dagonet stopped worrying and took it easy would be the day the
sea froze over. "Well... I'll be back in ta see ya soon
alright?"

He threw a last pondering look at Saoirse before smiling at
Vanora and turning to the door, leaning heavily on the small
woman's shoulder for support, although he would never admit
it.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Unicorn
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 1:27 pm
Mirtha


He had never felt such intense feelings.... such intense
expirence. Mostly he had women only when he was drunk...
Mostly. Ione wanted him the way he was and told him that she
wanted to help him in his problem. Was it possible?

Their love making was great. And he felt the need in him and
in her also. It was perfect for him.

Maybe she was the one finally to give him a chance.

Morning came too fast...

A loud yawn left him and Mirtha slowly turned to the side,
blindly searching with his hand for Ione beside him. But there
was only soft sheets under his rough hand. He oppened his eyes
with a frown and saw an empty bed... Turning around with a
grunt he looked at the window.

"Shit...." he muttered seeing how late it was. Sun was high in
the sky. He should be at the stables.

He was naked still under the sheets and he looked over the
place for his clothes. Once he stood up with difficulty... his
muscles tired and thight, he dressed himself and streached a
little before walking out of the room.

"Ione?" he called for her, and smiled as he walked into the
main room of the shop. "Good morning..." he greeted her.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Lancelot
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 2:32 pm
Lancelot


Lancelot kept on laughing, his voice pitching higher and more
insane sounding. He bent over, holding himself up with his
good arm - the wounded one still throbbing painfully from
where Galahad had punched him - and roared with mirth, tears
streaming down his face. What a situation. What a fucking
ridiculous life. What was the point in all this? Two days ago
they had been fighting for their lives, berserker Saxons all
around them, and now, here they were, brothers essentially,
the only thing each one had left in the world, punching and
kicking each other like little children.

Gawain
 
“What the hell’s so funny?”


Lancelot only laughed harder, finally managing to straighten
up. He raised his bloodied fist and saluted Gawain mockingly
with it. "If you don't know that, my lovely blondie," he
sighed, wiping his face to remove the tears, "then you know
nothing of me at all."

He turned and stared at Kolya, who had begun to join in the
laughter. Lancelot cocked an eyebrow, checked on Galahad, and
smiled again as the inappropriate mirth bubbled up inside.

And suddenly again, he was soaking wet.

"What the FUCK," he spat, and turned to face the tavern doors,
his clothing wet yet again, his hair smashed against his head
and his cuts stinging like Arthur's damned devil were dancing
in them. Neeve and one of the sisters - damn them! Lancelot
snarled and took a step forward - by the gods but he was done
with this day - but stopped when an officious sounding Roman
fool stepped between them all.

Quintus
 
"While you lot have been bloody killing each other, a
prisoner's got out. So unless you're fucking dead, join
the search. You too- but somebody help him."


A dark and dangerous smile appeared on the first knight's
face, and he shoved his wet mop of hair back. He sauntered
toward the Roman, and rested his hand on his hip. The damnable
leathers began to slide off with the pressure - fuck!
Nonetheless, he tilted his head. "Pray tell, who are you to
order us about? We are the cavalry, friend, not servants that
search for some little pissant Woad you happened to misplace.
Our duty was finished when we rode back from the last mess,
I'd wager." His smile sharpened. "Gawain - don't you think we
can handle Galahad here?"

Lancelot's heart was slamming in his chest, but not from fear.
He was beyond finished with this mess. All he wanted to do was
eat something, drink a very large amount of ale, and get a
fucking. bath. How hard was that???

Apparently, the hardest thing in the whole fucking world.

Lancelot had a momentary flash of Arthur - his face white, his
wound open, Lancelot's hands the only things that stood
between fate and Arthur healing. His fingers shook briefly,
and he bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.

Looking at Kolya, then Gawain, and then Galahad prone on the
ground - he made up his mind. This was finished, here - now.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 3:21 pm
Eala


Eala let Ash take her hand and she followed him down the
laneway and out towards the gate. Her smaller legs had a hard
time keeping up with his long stride but she managed without
complaint. Only once did she look back in regret at not having
revenge for Donnchadh.

Once outside the gate the two broke into an easy loping run,
eating the distance between wall and trees easily, diving in
amongst the trees. Immediately Eala felt better, she felt
freer. She still had the knife-doll in her free hand as they
moved swiftly. Now and then she looked up at Ash, flinching
when she saw how pale he looked, how sick he looked. She had
given up looking at the stiff, dried blood on his stomach.
The wet forest floor proved no hindrance to the ten-year-old,
despite her lack of footwear and the biting cold of the
British winter. Eala was used to the outdoors - it was the
dank, musty darkness of a dungeon that had a negative effect
on her, not the wide open spaces of Nature.

They got so far and Eala noticed something, something strange
-- tracks. Horse tracks. Heading towards one of the camps that
they used oftentimes. The little blonde stopped, pulling her
hand out of Ash's gently and hunkered down, pressing a hand to
the mark on the wet ground. If it had been raining the mark
would have been washed away by now... so the marks were made
when it had stopped raining. Today then. And woads did not
travel by horse.

"Nneh --" she uttered to get attention, pointing to the tracks
and then narrowing her black eyes into the trees before
looking up at Ash expectantly. In truth Ash had probably
noticed the tracks a long time ago, his senses much more
attuned to the earth from his longer years upon it than
Eala's, but that she noticed the half hidden tracks at all was
not something one might expect from a normal ten-year-old. No
one would expect the savage light to be in the eys of a ten
year old either, a murderous vendetta against Romans breeding
deep inside her little body.














Catherine

Catherine dropped the coins onto the table and pouted at them.
At a time when people were fearing for their lives she seemed
to be making more money than ever. It was not something she
would turn her nose up at though her body was starting to feel
weary of making love at this moment in time. The day was young
yet though.

Arranging her hair once more and applying a light misting of
perfume to her body, the blonde went to walk out of the house
but came to a halt when Arland was on his way in.

His bright eyes lit up to see her and Catherine smiled, a
sultry smile.

"Kitty! You're home! Oh you missed it Kitty! At the tavern-
there was a massive brawl with some old soldier and a few of
the Sarmatians! I was worried you'd be caught up in it
somehow." he gave her a relieved smile and placed a hand on
her upper arm. Catherine's face dropped and she put a hand to
her neck worriedly.

"Sarmatians? What Sarmatians? Was anyone hurt?" she asked with
more alarm than she thought she might have only yesterday.
Before she had found herself intrigued and endeared to one of
the Sarmatians.

Arland's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening.

"Why? You're not involved with any of them are you?" Arland
asked with a hint of scorn in his voice which made Catherine
cock an eyebrow at him, her posture stiffening and her eyes
misting over a little. What right did he have to disapprove of
her associations with anyone?

"I don't know which one it was - Lancelot was there but he was
trying to stop it I think." Arland said, walking past
Catherine and gesturing his hand dismissively.

Once he got out of her way Catherine was gone. She walked out
the door hearin Lancelot's name spoken and instinctively
pulled up her hood before realising it wasn't raining. It was
still cold though so she left it up, her brow furrowed as she
trudged through the mucky streets, her skirts hitched above
her ankles to stop it trailing in the muck, towards the
fortress grounds. When she got there it was in chaos.
Guards were running about the place and as she moved between
them with wide, misty green eyes, she managed to pick up on
teh fact that a prisoner had escaped.

Bemused, Catherine continued avoiding the guards until she
came to the main courtyard and there lay, in the muck,
Galahad. The blonde blew out a breath of laughter through her
nose, seeing Lancelot and her amusement only faded when she
spotted Gawain amongst the lot, saturated with water and
bleeding.. or was it someone else's blood? A breath caught in
her throat and she had taken three quick strides forward
before she stopped, grit her teeth and half-turned away,
intending on walking around the men into the tavern. But
inevitably she cast a look back towards the men who were being
bundled up to go looking for the escaped prisoner.

Her lips pulled outwards in a slight smile, a soft smile as
she noted that he was not completely battere - unlike Galahad
who was rather miserably curled up hacking and coughing on the
ground.
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golden_trillium

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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 4:41 pm
Nolan


Nolan did not expect a reaction from Neeria. Prior to her
treachery, she had been one of Guinevere’s women, but not one
of Nolan’s. He cared little for her feelings or status,
because she was not his concern. Until now. Traitors were
punished severely in Briton. Did Neeria strive to be forgiven,
and welcomed back with loving arms? It was pathetic, and Nolan
was quite blunt about his dislike. As his fingers deliberately
twisted into her shoulder and caused her pain, Nolan did not
feel an ounce of regret. He hoped he hurt her. And he did,
clearly…her lips bore backwards and she reacted like the
fierce bitch she was. The woman gripped his hand hard, and
raked her nails into his skin. Oh it stung, but Nolan had
suffered harsher wounds in his time. Was this her defense?
Truly? The warrior’s jaw tensed and his teeth gritted. He
glared down at the woman, daring her to further her
disobedience…

Neeria
 
"Release me, you fool! How dare you speak of losses when
my own beloved Mikel's body is not even cold yet! Your
hatred has blinded you. I have not betrayed Merlin and
you'd better know it! The slave is no better or no worse
than we are. You will leave him. "It is you who forgets,
Nolan,"


She denied treachery? And she claimed him a fool? Oh, but
Neeria was digging herself a deeper grave! Nolan’s eyes were
hard, and his expression did not waver. She was an adept
warrior, but she could be cut down easily. Her beloved was
dead, so surely her loyalties must be stronger? She was aiding
the very enemy that had murdered her kin, and now she sought
to harm Nolan. The Woad’s eyes flickered down to his bloodied
hand, and he blinked lazily, not caring. He was bored of her
arguments, bored of her fickle nature. Let Merlin deal with
her. Did she understand the politics of Briton at all? If she
was truly Guinevere’s best, then she would not have argued so
vehemently for a ridiculous cause…

“I do not hate you Neeria. I pity you.” He spoke slowly,
emphasizing each syllable with his dark and dangerous glare.
“Merlin can deal with you. I have no patience for a Slave’s
whore…”

Malcus
 
"Sorry mate, but we're not following you anywhere. "It
would be best to send word to Merlin and have him come
here and meet with us. We will be obliged to wait."


Amadeus
 
"Captain! Still your tongue. You are the muscle not the
brains of this operation.We will take one each on our
horses as a sign of good faith."


Ah, the Roman was overruled again, and Nolan turned his
attention back to the bickering men. Nolan’s dark eyes rested
upon the leader, now showing himself. Did insult to status
offend him? Clearly. Nolan was almost amused at the
competition for the upper hand. Romans were fickle, petty, and
these two were struggling. The Optio was not older, but he
was…rude enough to be considered a leader. Nolan glanced to
his comrades, and parted his lips to speak. But…Ceinwyn turned
towards the woodland, following the gaze of their army.
Another Woad party had entered the clearing, and Nolan fell
back a stride. Merlin. Without hesitation, Nolan reached out
and grabbed Neeria by the wrist, keeping her close. His
bloodied hand throbbed, but he paid it little heed. Indeed, he
was almost relieved at Merlin’s arrival. These Roman idiots
were proving troublesome in negotiations.

Merlin
 
”Found them, I see. What do they want?”


“They want to talk with you, although apparently cannot decide
who is in charge of their party.” Nolan spoke slowly, his dry
lips quirking into an amused and mocking smile. It was a
bitter thing, and brief. He glanced down at Neeria, and
tightened his grip on her wrist. “Neeria claims that they come
in peace…but we arrived to find two dead. It is a funny sort
of peace, no? Although I am not surprised at the lying words
of a traitor…” Nolan’s fingers gripped into her skin, warning
her to hold her tongue. The Woad looked to his elder, and
awaited response…
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