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June 2008
Topic Started: Mar 23 2010, 07:18 PM (3,688 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 5:13 pm

Ione


She moved her eyes back to her work as the customer left her
shop with two cloaks and a blanket. Ione stood there next to
her beloved loom, and ran her hands over the strong wooden
frame. So smooth and strong...like running her hands over
Mirtha's toned chest, feeling the muscels twitch. As she
thought, her mind went over the various herbs her mother had
used to cure ailments of all sorts...surely there was one to
help someone stop drinking. There were the bitter herbs that
made wine sour...or so her father had read to her from the
bible....

...Her hands left the wooden frame of the loom and crossed
over her chest, just staring out at the cold, damp day that
was slowly fading. Ione had not minded that Mirtha had slept
so long. He could sleep as long as he wanted to for all she
cared. It was good to just have him there. Could he be the one
to finally stay in her life, or would he leave her like all
the rest had? Just promise her the moon, then leave? But that
things seemed so right between she and Mirtha. So natural.
Ione didn't want him to leave, and had even hoped beyond hope
that he'd be the one to finally ask her to wed him during the
Spring Festival...if there was one.

As she made ready to sit down at her work, she heard rustling
coming from the room, and a smile crossed her face. Ione's
body then recalled to her the intenseness of their lovemaking:
The feel of him entering her with such force that she had dug
her nails into her shoulders, their breath falling on the
others skin...the taste of him still on her lips. The young
woman heard the door ope,a nd she turned to see Mitha enter
the room. He was so wildly handsome in the dim light of the
small shop...

Mirtha
 
"Ione?" "Good morning..."


"Oh, Mirtha!" Ione ran to him, letting him catch her in his
arms. "Tis late afternoon, love, but tis a good afternoon to
you none the less." Bringing her face up close to his, Ione
brushed his lips with hers as she said, "I would have left you sleep all day if you'd have wished to." Ione had asked him a question before they got caught up in their love for each other: Did he want to stay with her in the shop? Or go back to the stables where it was cold? Ione could only hope that their need for each other had made his choice. Smiling as she looked into his eyes, Ione said, "Mirtha...I cannot tell you how happy you have made me."

A new chapter was about to be written in her life, and Ione
hoped that this time the ending would be one of eternal
happiness.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 6:28 pm
Neeria and Malcus Barbattus


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? Malcus wanted to laugh. Good faith? With the
woads? It was out of good faith that Arthur thought there was
a solid peace treaty in order was it not? Fucking faith? The
demons couldn't be trusted at all!

"Yes, optio" Malcus said.

The captain groaned inwardly. Arthur had sent this man to
negotiate with Merlin, a war lord? Amadeus was so far out his
league. But Malcus had tried to intervene and by the looks of
it, even Tristan tried to get the optio's attention, so now
Amadeus would be on his own. Malcus would let the optio dig
his own grave and probably get them all killed, the pompous
ass.

There was movement in the woods and then suddenly, Merlin
appeared. Malcus turned at looked at the magician. He was
quite an impressive figure; painted blue, wrapped in furs,
tall and muscular. He had chiseled features and penetrating
eyes. Malcus could see how some would follow him. But to
Barbattus, he was just another blue man who needed to be run
through.

Nolan
 
“I do not hate you Neeria. I pity you. Merlin can deal
with you. I have no patience for a Slave’s whore…”


"You are a fool, Nolan!" Neeria hissed.

Nolan suddenly grabbed her by the wrist, jerking her small
body around. There was Merlin, standing in the clearing.
Neeria's heart pounded wildly in her chest, the earth seemed
to stand still, all was quiet when she laid eyes on the man
who was most like her father.

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


Nolan
 
“They want to talk with you, although apparently cannot
decide who is in charge of their party. 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…”


The word 'traitor' rang in Neeria's ears. She was not a
traitor and she must prove that to Merlin.

Neeria sought Merlin's eyes, wanting to call out to him, but
not daring to do so until he'd addressed her first. The woman
snatched her wrist from Nolan and slightly pushed him away
from her. Then she looked to her shan-ti, hoping he would
grant her time to speak with him.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: linnet
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 8:13 pm
Gawain


There was nothing funny about this. Lancelot’s laughter grated
on Gawain’s nerves like a rough hewn board. And when Kolya
joined in, it took every ounce of the blonde knight’s
self-control to keep from re-starting the brawl, this time
with Galahad on the sidelines.

Lancelot
 
"If you don't know that, my lovely blondie, then you
know nothing of me at all."


Fuck you, Gawain hissed under his breath, the second time in
minutes he’d responded to Lancelot with those words. The first
time had been irritation; this time was real anger. He didn’t
bother looking at the Dark Knight. He knew he would bristle at
what he saw as much as at what he was hearing. How hard would
the sonofabitch First Knight be laughing if it were Arthur
laid out unconscious instead of Galahad? Was it really that
easy for Lancelot to wash his hands of the situation, and sit
there laughing? Maybe so. Lancelot didn’t have to see the look
in Galahad’s eyes when he knew what was coming – silently
begging Gawain to let him keep fighting. Lancelot didn’t have
to feel like a prick for giving his best friend irresponsible
shit for advice – the merits of fighting for your woman and
giving the other man a message he would never forget. Lancelot
didn’t have to regret hurting his best friend so he’d
understand when enough was enough.

The fact that Galahad wasn’t moving yet made Gawain very
nervous, and the laughter was making him furious. Not seeing
any useful help near the tavern, he knelt beside the fallen
knight, making sure he was breathing at least. Suddenly water
was splashing over both men from above, most of it hitting
Galahad. Gawain looked back to see Neeve and Linnesse setting
down the offending bucket.

Neeve
 
“Are we done yet?”


She sounded disgusted, but Gawain was relieved to see her
still here in case Galahad didn’t come around soon. “Yeah,
we’re done,” he said seriously, at the same time that Galahad
coughed and turned sideways, his body reacting to the shock of
cold water. “Easy,” the blond knight said to his
semi-conscious friend. He rested his hand on Galahad’s
shoulder.

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."


Lancelot
 
"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.Gawain - don't you think we can handle Galahad
here?"


Now Gawain’s anger had a new target. He stood up and glared at
the Roman officer. “Find your own damn prisoner,” he growled.
“My orders come from Arthur Castus and his First Knight (he
wisely chose not to say ‘and that asshole’) - only. This,” he
said moving his eyes from the Roman’s face just enough to
indicate Galahad, “is Sarmatian business. Not yours.”

It was while he was snarling at the Roman that Gawain noticed
Catherine. His attention veered from the officer. His
disposition veered from angry to regretful. She took a few
steps in the knight’s direction, then paused, almost smiling.
Gawain returned her look, but his expression was sad, and a
bit embarrassed. He wished he could talk to her, tell her how
things had come to this. He tried to smile, and shook his head
slowly to communicate he was sorry about the state of things
she had to witness. Then he had to turn away, back to Galahad,
who was still sputtering and coughing. “Will somebody help me
get him to his room?” Gawain asked, looking first to Lancelot,
then Kolya. He didn't want to deal with either of them right
now, but he didn't think he could get Galahad up and someplace
better than the mud without some help.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 8:57 pm
Quintus


Lancelot
 
"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. Gawain- don't you think we can handle Galahad
here?"


Gawain
 
“Find your own damn prisoner. My orders come from Arthur
Castus and his First Knight only. This is Sarmatian
business. Not yours. Will somebody help me get him to
his room?”


Quintus drew himself up and puffed out his barrel chest
impressively, incensed by the way these two barbarians spoke
to him. Normally, as it happened, he had great respect for the
Sarmatians- no one was their equal on horseback- but there
were times when they were too damned impressed with themselves
for their own good. This was one of those times, and Quintus,
his pride already smarting from the loss of the prisoner in
the first place, decided abruptly to give the So-called First
Knight, who apparently couldn't even keep his own pants from
near falling down, a piece of his mind.

"Oh, servants' work, is it? Where I come from, servants don't
do things like that. That," he jabbed his finger over towards
a neat sqaud of searchers, double-timing it through the
courtyard on the way to the building they were about to
thoroughly comb from top to bottom.

"Is soldiering, but you bloody Sarmatians wouldn't know
anything about that, because fucking cavalry are always too
fucking good for the rest of us." Quintus's words were
considerably more harsh than he would have used with Lancelot
normally, but he scarcely cared. They weren't going to help
him search. If it had been just Gawain, he might have been
able to press the issue, but his rank was equal to that of the
First Knight, so he held no leverage there except threats. And
Lancelot wouldn't respond to threats. He and his men were
Commander Castus's pets- they got anything they wanted, sooner
or later. Bloody, stuck-up cavalry- all of the glory and none
of the mud and muck.

"See to your man, then, but he'd better piss sunshine when
you're done with him." Quintus growled in the direction of
Galahad, then siezed an errant soldier by the collar and
thrust him in the direction of another forming search party.

"Get on with it!" the Centurion barked, stomping away from the
First Knight and his damned falling pants. A whore, a blonde
woman, was hanging around the edges of the conversation
curiously, and Quintus favored her with a glare, hoping she
didn't hope to solicit custom here. Couldn't she see that the
men were all busy?











Merlin and Tristan

Nolan
 
“They want to talk with you, although apparently they
cannot decide who is in charge of their party. 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…”


"Ah...I see." Merlin nodded knowingly and let himself meet
Neeria's eyes. She had just jerked her hand away from Nolan's
grip and stood there, fairly burning with desire to speak to
him, he could tell- but he would hear from her later. He held
up his hand in a small gesture, indicating her to be silent
for now, and then, confident that with so many eyes watching,
she could not escape the clearing, turned his attention to the
Romans. Couldn't decide who was in charge, could they? The
corner of Merlin's lip curled in a rather unpleasant smile as
he advanced a step forward.

"So...who am I to treat with? You? You?" His gaze lingered
expectantly first on the man still mounted, then on the man
outside the door of the hut. The Sarmatian scout in the
doorway was a slave only, it was not him they would be talking
to- but there was someone else inside the hut, as well, who
might very well also be the spokesman- who knew?

"And more importantly..." Merlin's voice hardened now, and
there was no mistaking his great displeasure with the
situation as he found it.

"How am I to treat at all when your slave stands ready to send
one of my people to the Gods?" Merlin could see the scout's
muscles tightening in resistance to the term "slave", his
teeth clenching, even from this distance, but it was only more
amusing to him. They were slaves- they just never wanted to
admit it. Merlin was, however, concerned with getting the
bound man out of danger of that wicked blade.

"And you have bound him, too? It does not seem like peace to
me." He looked to the various Romans expectently, eyebrows
raised, waiting for some explanation- whoever it would come
from.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 10:11 pm
Brendyn


Arriving at the top of the stairs from the dungeons and not
having had any luck in finding the prisoner down there...nor
the accomplice if there had been one, Brendyn studied
carefully the situation around the area. The fight seemed to
have died down, so that might or might not have been a good
place for distraction now, still there was enough going on
that one could still use it for escape purposes....enough so
that the little woad could escape. Everyone seemed so intent
on the fight. His head turned from one side to the other
wondering where he should check next...

Shops, stables, quarters, the exits from the fort. Brendyn was
far from looking like a soldier in the same clothes he had
cleaned the latrines in, but there had been a call for help,
and in or out of uniform, he'd do his best....though in a
place like this, the little snip of a woad could be hiding
almost anywhere, and with her injury, surely she could not
have gone far. There was a set of vendor's shops near by the
exit of the dungeons, perhaps she could have gone in there.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: sabor ice
Date: Mon Jun 30, 2008 11:22 pm
Mordred


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."


Nolan & Merlin
 
“They want to talk with you, although apparently cannot decide who is in charge of their party. 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…"

Ah...I see. So...who am I to treat with? You? You? And more importantly...How am I to treat at all when your slave stands ready to send one of my people to the Gods? And you have bound him, too? It does not seem like peace to me."


Good faith? An ironic and devastatingly under-developed ploy.
Had it not been in mere good faith the initial treaty for
peace had been fortified? These Romans and their faith...did
men like Arthur and Amadeus truly believe this was something
to wager wars upon? An idea? There was no faith. There was no
God. There was only Man. Flesh, bone, and blood. Bloodshed was
the only alternative when words and good faith were
meaningless. Men understood bloodshed, they pined for it.
Mordred trusted the power of aggressive negotiation through
the cold steel in his hand. It was re-assurance he could never
accept of the enemy. It was real when the enemy's blasphemed
words of so-called peace were petty and reliable.

Amadeus may have been an impressive liar, but he was a poor
negotiator, clearly in way over his head. The Optio was no
longer in control of the situation. They were at the mercy of
the enemy - even Mordred knew this - but Amadeus was much too
arrogant to admit such flaw, such defeat. His
self-righteousness was sure to get the rest of them killed, as
long as Barbattus didn't beat him to it with his impulsive
outbursts, that was.

Mordred ignored the childish bantering occurring all around
him, dark gaze swiveling toward a break in the trees where
another Woad party - smaller than the first - now stood.
Merlin was among them, easily recognizable even from a
distance, standing brazenly proud in lead of his followers, an
imposing foe to say the least. Mordred was not intimidated by
the 'magician', despite his last encounter with the Woad
leader and his people. He had been chewed up and spit out, and
yet he had not crumbled. He was capable of hatred, but never
submission to fear. The knight gave a defiant lift to his chin
when Merlin briefly addressed him, but said nothing. Wordplay
was the Optio's talent.

Mordred's jaw visibly tightened, features hardened, his gaze
flickering between Merlin and Amadeus, anxious to learn what
would now develop of this meeting. Absentmindedly, his hand
clutched the hilt of his sword tighter. Re-assurance.
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