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July 2008
Topic Started: Apr 3 2010, 09:33 PM (2,357 Views)
golden_trillium

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Summary here
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golden_trillium

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Author: Darya
Date: Tue Jul 01, 2008 9:43 am
Neeve


Of course Lancelot had to curse. It would have surprised the
raven-haired woman if he had not when the water hit him. Neeve
cocked her head at him when he made an annoyed forward, no
doubt not too happy about his involuntary shower. However, the
healer was not afraid of the First Knight. She would face him
if she had to…but the curly haired knight apparently decided
to focus on his fellow knights and the just approaching Roman
officer instead…

Gawain
 
"Yeah, we’re done,”


Finally an answer the Briton could approve. “You better be…”,
she replied and gave Gawain a firm nod. She was quite
confident that she could count on him sticking to his word. If
not, she would have a serious word with him. By the Gods,
Neeve respected and liked the Sarmatian knights…but sometimes
they still acted like bloody children and she had always done
what she could to hold a mirror up to them in those
moments…and would certainly not stop that now. Then the healer
turned slightly and focused on Linnesse while the knights
started to argue with the Roman, who had just arrived. Woe
betide them if they would start yet another brawl…this time,
including Romans…

Linnesse
 
"It was just heavy… It was a good idea,"


“At least it seems to have quieted their minds for now…”,
Neeve replied and gave Linnesse a wry smile, “…thank you for
the team work…” Then the Briton paused and eyed the other
woman a bit closer. “Are you sure you are okay? Or do you need
something?”
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Tue Jul 01, 2008 1:38 pm
Kolya and Galahad


Neeve
 
“Are we done yet?”


Tetchy little wench she was! Kolya was not in the mood
for more fighting however and he lifted his hands in
supplication. Despite the cold there was sweat beading on his
forehead, staining his tanned skin pink as it mingled with a
bit of blood from someone's elbow connecting with his forehead
during the scrap.

Kolya did not feel good. His chest was ridiculously tight and
there was a sensation in his gut, an uncomfortable, unsettled
feeling. Guilt, perhaps? Worry over where Alina was? And yet
he laughed. There was little funny in the situation but
perhaps that is what was so funny - and despite it all he
couldn't help but guffaw loudly.

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?"


Gawain
 
“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?”


Kolya couldn't help the prideful smile from curling his split
lips. He gave Lancelot an approving look though he knew that
to a boy like him the approval of an aged, washed up Knight
was hardly complimentary. He couldn't help it though! And when
Gawain broke in with a similar tirade against the Roman, Kolya
felt a swell inside his chest, a hearty rekindling of a
feeling he had once known ... brotherhood.

Hearing the dark-haired knight speak in such a manner and then
the blonde one... knowing what loyalties tugged at their
conscience as slaves of Rome... well, Kolya did admire the
cheek they gave the Roman whilst defending Sarmatians too. And
the Roman seemed to take it.

The old Sarmatian took a step back away from Galahad, his
hands lifted again, shaking his head with another snort of
laughter. He knew he was the last person that should help the
younger male along. Galahad would as sooner drown in the
puddle of mop water than accept his help.

Quintus
 
"Oh, servants' work, is it? Where I come from, servants
don't do things like that. That 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. See to your man, then, but he'd better
piss sunshine when you're done with him. Get on with
it!"


Kolya didn't even look towards Quintis. He had a knowing grin
on his face, knowing that the 'insults' hurled would roll off
the Knight's backs as any other insult would. They were
focused on their own man and that was that. Glancing towards
Quintis, the old Sarmatian shook his head and gave him a
flinty glower before turning away, walking away stiffly whilst
waving a hand over his shoulder.

"I've served my time boy. Rome gives me no orders no more." he
growled, hobbling off slowly, favouring his right leg,
bleeding from his nose, forehead, cheek and feeling the throb
of bruises everywhere. But he couldn't remember the last time
he had felt more alive. Well... he could, with Alina, but for
different reasons. Tilting his head, lifting his chin, the old
Sarmatian made slow progress in leaving the scene of the
battle and quietly, nay, silently, prayed that Galahad would
be alright.

There was too much respect in Kolya for these new knights...
respect and pity and hope.



Galahad did not feel good at all.

Physically he was beat. He was aware of people talking above
him but all he could actually take in were pained breaths and
the scent of saturated muck beneath him, upon him. His eyes
were shut and he had one arm wrapped about his stomach. He was
also rather aware of the pain in his stomach and he knew
instinctively, as only a fighting man could, that the wound
had been reopened and would need attention. Soon.

How could he ask for it though... ? how could he ask and face
the questions on why Alina couldn't do it? How could he ask
knowing that he had injured his brethern and that they would
need care too?

Petulant, repentant, Galahad twisted around until he was on
his back, his knees hitched p and his head tilted backwards,
his black curls saturated in the brown mud. He gave a pained
groan and opened his eyes, looking up to Gawain. There was
moisture in his eyes as he looked at his closest friend...

"Sorry... didn't mean .." he murmured in a whisper before
closing his eyes and gripping his stomach again as a racking
pain riddled his insides. It was over as soon as it hit and he
gasped a breath, letting his head fall back against as he let
out a mirthless laugh, turning his head away from Gawain.
"Made a right balls of that." the young knight told himself,
knowing that Lancelot was involved and knowing he would have
to cough up some sort of explanation to the first Knight. As
much as Galahad despised Lancelot for his cocky, arrogant ways
, he was still the first Knight and deserved the respect that
went with it. Most of the time.







Amadeus

Malcus
 
"Yes, optio"


Too little, too late.

Merlin
 
"Found them, I see, What do they want?"


The air seemed to change, the very air!! Amadeus gave a
hesitant look back at Tristan, wondering if the scout had felt
it too. He seemed the kind of creature to be perceptive to
things like that. Overall there was an uneasy sense in most
people and then there was an easing outside. Tristan was
looking out in that direction and the Optio's head snapped to
the side, tilting so that he could see beyond the door and
there he saw him.

A magician they called him! Amadeus had laughed at that,
laughed at the uneducated, gullible beliefs of a people who
should have been long since ridded of such superstitious
nonsense. And yet when the Magician appeared in the clearing
Amadeus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he
suddenly felt very, very young. And very, very unprepared for
this.

There was insult enough in the Woad leader not addressing him
directly, but hearing how he then spoke to the Magician about
them was even worse, and it made Amadeus glare fiercely, his
intimidation near forgotten , at Barbattus. Oh Arthur would
hear of this!

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…”


Amadeus flexed his fingers and glanced around at Tristan. He
gave a sharp gesture to the space of ground behind him,
expecting the scout to understand that he wanted him to follow
him upon his heels, and then lifted his chin as he stepped out
of the hut, proud and dignified. Young, oh young of course,
but capable. To appearances. That was something Amadeus was
good at... appearances. His grey eyes swept over those
outside, the strange feral blonde, Neeria the traitor, Mordred
who he gave a nod of his head to, and then to Merlin. That
prickle down his spine was almost painful when faced with the
old male --

"I am in charge. My name is Amadeus Scipio, Optio of the Roman
Legion at Badon Hill and I speak for Arthur Castus." the man
said initially, his grey eyes drifting to Neeria as he
gestured with a gloved hand towards her - "This woman has led
us to this place and had made a promise to lead us to Merlin
in exchange for her life. She is now yours to deal with as you
see fit to deal with any traitor found amongst you. Now.." he
took a deep breath, looking at Merlin levelly.

"Are you Merlin?" he asked perfunctorily, knowing it was he
but wanting to have confirmation. Wanting a few minutes to
gather his brain and figure out how he was going to approach
this.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Jul 01, 2008 1:39 pm
Linnesse


Neeve
 
“At least it seems to have quieted their minds for
now…thank you for the team work…are you sure you are
okay? Or do you need something?”


“I’m all right- just a bit tired,” Linnesse assured Neeve
again, smiling as she pushed the bench she had been sitting on
back into place under the table. She straightened it more
carefully than she would even usually do, having an obscure
sense of not wanting to contribute further to the considerable
disorder caused by the brawl, then straightened her shoulders
and brushed off her skirt, which was marked by a few small
splashes of water from carrying the bucket.

“I’d better get going- Derfel and I have to move rooms today,
if you can believe it.” She shook her head ruefully, then
shrugged; it was a lot of work, but it could not be helped,
and it was for the best. And over just outside the tavern
doors, Galahad was stirring and seemed to be talking- it
looked like he would be all right, so she could leave the
scene of destruction in good conscience.

“I promise to take it easy, yes,” she added with a small
laugh, as she moved off in the direction of Derfel, ready to
join him and start the work of the rest of the afternoon.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Tue Jul 01, 2008 2:28 pm
Catherine


Fighting was the proclivity of men.

Catherine abided it as one might abide hair upon a man's
cheek. It was not necessarily attractive, certainly not
essential but it was not something that was entirely
despicable either. So long as the fight was done away from her
and the men were not fighting over her she was quite patient
with the wiles of men. For some reason seeing Gawain's
embarrassed smile was endearing and the whore gave a small
laugh into her hand, shaking her head at him, dismissing his
apology and embarrassment.

It was rather disruptive to her normal nature to see that
Gawain looked sad. Her hazy green eyes glanced down at the man
he was settling beside and she understood - Galahad. His
friend.

Lancelot was there also - Catherine gave him the once over,
eyes hooking on the too-loose trousers that were slung
dangerously low on his narrow hips. She gave a lopsided smile
at the sight, lifting a hand to gently swirl of strand of
blonde hair about her finger.

The blonde pursed her lips and was about to approach when she
saw one of the officers glaring at her. Her eyebrows rose
marginally and she lifted her chin slightly. He was not
necessarily a handsome man, but nor was he displeasing to the
eye either. With a breath of laughter, Catherine made a show
of blowing the officer a kiss and turned around, walking into
the tavern with a suggestive sway to her hips, glancing once
over her shoulder to see Galahad stirring as he spoke to
Gawain.

Entering the tavern, the blonde took up a table just inside
the room, looking out the window as things were pulled
together.







Drake

A laugh!

Drake's lips twitched but did not quite form a smile when he
heard the happy sound from Linnette. He looked down at her as
she extricated herself from his embrace and already he
regretted the loss of her slight heat against his body. A
handkerchief appeared in her hand and she softly dabbed at her
tear-reddened eyes. One tear drop escaped her ministrations
and lingered upon the dip at her nose and cheek, drawing
Drake's eye to it unwillingly.

Linnette
 
"And men aren't?


Drake barked a laugh as he was critically assessed from top to
toe. He felt very undignified but he didn't care. His tunic
was tattered, his boots dusty and cracked, his trousers were
ancient, almost like a second skin at this rate, but he didn't
care because there was not one suggestion in her hazel eyes
that she disapproved of what she saw.

Linnette
 
"Well... Perhaps take the things off the bed? The
tapestry, and the blankets, and... And then start moving
them to the new room? I can pack the rest of the
clothes.. And does the room have furniture?"


"Hrmph." Drake answered in response to her orders. He set to
work even as she spoke, hefting the tapestry up into his sure
hands and started to turn it on the wooden bar that it was
nailed to. He turned and turned, easily rolling it into a neat
but thick, long pole which he placed on the ground in front of
his feet, glancing back at Linnette as she asked him that
question again. His green eyes were uncharacteristically
vibrant, twinkling with mild amusement at the repeat.
When he stood and turned to face her the vibrancy was gone,
replaced with his normal, stoic, unmoving, unfathomable
facade. For some reason he was anxious about moving the
saddlebags. They were a big thing for Linnette, he could
understand that. And so he wanted her to be a little
distracted as he touched them, knowing she would rather no-one
else touch them but knowing she was unable to do it herself.

Drake reached a hand back and shrugged his shoulder as he did
so, glancing over his shoulder as he spoke, hefting the bags
upwards.

"There's a little. Bed, mattress, a chest of drawers - enough
for one. You would do wise to bring that one along with you.
Derfel and I can move it when he gets here..." -- and
downwards, placing the bags next to the door quietly before
sweeping back to the bed and folding back the blankets.

"There's a wash-stand and a screen. All quite... bare." he
intoned without emotion, folding the blankets once more before
pulling them off the bed and draping them over his arm and
then placed them on top of the saddlebags. Standing up
straight, Drake looked over at Linnette through narrowed eyes
and placed a hand on his hip, the other lifted to his jaw,
rubbing his bearded cheek assessingly.

"You be alright?" the question came unbidden to his lips. It
was not in his nature to be so direct in his quetsionning of a
person's well-being, but in this instance he felt like he had
little in the way of choice. He did care. And as often as he
told himself that he shouldn't, it would not change the fact
that he did. The ambiguous time-frame of the question was
deliberate - leaving it for her to answer that she was
alright, or that she would be alright.










Mari

No, she wasn't tired, but Mari let her eyes slide shut and her
lips rested in an easy smile as their dance slowed. Milan's
hold on her tightened and she gave a soft sigh, letting her
arms drape up around his neck and down his back loosely while
she breathed in the earthy scent of him. The whole cottage was
falling apart around them but she believed they would be able
to make it work, to make it a palace with just a little
effort.

Milan
 
"Thhhink...bout...now... Yyyou...with...mme..."


She smiled.

His murmured words against her ear made her shiver and her
hands flexed against his back, fingers clutching his tunic. To
think just in the present.. was she able to?

The young woman took a deep breath and held it, dismissing all
the future and past from her mind, concentrating on the here
and now, on Milan's tightening arms about her body, on his
hard body in front of her, the heat of him combining with the
heat of her own body, the way is breath brushed against the
top of her ear, the way her hair tickled her cheek where it
was pressed to his chest... the here and now. Just now. Just
now, just the two of them.

The woman smiled again, opening her brown eyes to look up at
Milan. Dazzled, Mari moved her hand from Milan's back, resting
her wrist on the ball of his shoulder, her hand reaching in to
brush the back of her fingers over his pale cheek.

"Now is really good, Milan. Now is better than ... than
anything ever before. I wish I knew yuo before though...
before I left here. Where were you then? Years ago when I left
here with my father." she pondered, narrowing her eyes at
Milan. Suddenly a giggle erupted from her pretty lips - "I
can't imagine you younger! What were you like?" she wondered,
brushing the tip of her nose against his jaw, delibrately
inhaling his scent.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:41 pm
Lancelot


The first knight heard Gawain's statement of back up; he
wasn't sure the blond man was doing it on purpose, but he
didn't care. The fact that the Sarmatians stood together was
all that mattered. They would be dead, otherwise. Rome had no
love for her conscripts.

Quintus
 
"Oh, servants' work, is it? Where I come from, servants
don't do things like that. That...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. See to your man, then, but he'd better
piss sunshine when you're done with him."


Lancelot cocked an eyebrow. "What is soldiering? Marching
around like ants when mother calls for you to do so?" He spat
to the side, but refused to get riled up by the officious fool
of a Roman again. "Don't worry, Centurion, we'll be out of
your way soon enough - and all of us will be fucking bleeding
sunshine." He turned his back when the other man was obviously
done with him, and tried to meet Gawain's gaze, but the knight
was staring at a blonde woman that was about to go into the
tavern.

Lancelot tilted his head at the sight of the woman - most
certainly a whore, but not one he'd seen much of. He looked at
her, and then at Gawain again, and then back to the woman
again. She stared unabashedly at Lancelot, and he allowed an
arrogant smile to decorate his features, his hand on his hip
surreptitously holding up his leathers. He half wondered if
she'd be around later, when, after blowing a kiss to the silly
centurion, she turned and sauntered into the tavern.

Lancelot forced his attention back on the situation at hand.
Kolya, still smiling maniacally, seemed ready to get all of
this over with; he didn't speak to Lancelot, but had an
interesting gleam in his eyes that made the knight want to
question him further. Not now, though; Galahad needed to be
seen to, and they all needed to get out of the courtyard
before more unwanted attention fell upon them.

Before Arthur heard about what had happened. Lancelot shook
his head at the thought of the magical explanation he'd have
to come up with in order to placate their commander. Not for
the first time, he hoped that Arthur was asleep - althought
this time for a different reason.

Gawain
 
“Will somebody help me get him to his room?”


Lancelot's anger was rapidly dissolving, and exhaustion
replaced it. He sighed and stepped over to where Gawain was
next to the pup. "Aye," he said, his voice betraying his true
tiredness and worry - worry that was always there, simmering
beneath the surface - normally well hidden. Not this time,
however. He was too worn out and too sick of everything to try
and shove it away. His hands trembled again, and he clenched
them into fists briefly, the split knuckles of the right one
screaming at him as blood still flowed sluggishly. He leaned
over just in time to hear Galahad speaking ostensibly to
Gawain. The younger Sarmatian did not look good.

Galahad
 
"Sorry... didn't mean ...Made a right balls of that."


Lancelot, kneeling once again in the muck, turned dark and
unreadable eyes on Gawain. "His wound must be looked at again,
I'd wager."

No words of remorse, no scolding, no taunting of the pup came
from the first knight's mouth. Why? Why should he? Why waste
the time - Galahad would learn his lesson, or he would die the
next time.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Tue Jul 01, 2008 7:35 pm

Arthur


As the door slowly opened, Arthur’s gaze flickered to Eyla –
the harlot. No doubt whoever entered the Commander’s chambers
would misinterpret her presence here…especially as Arthur
noted her suggestive posture and the wicked smile that
decorated her full lips as she smiled down at him. He gave
Eyla a stern look of disapproval that would certainly be
disregarded. Then weary green eyes turned their focus on the
person who had entered the room….Darya. Arthur inwardly sighed
at the look of surprise on his lover’s expression once the
Sarmatian had pushed back the hood of her cloak. She expected
someone other than Arthur’s chamber maid?

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…”


Arthur reached up and rubbed his thick fingers along his
bottom lip while listening to Darya’s soft voice. He had
regrettably been forced to send her from the room earlier when
faced with pressing issues that required a meeting with his
officers. However, Darya should not be made to feel that she
was interrupting anything now. Although Eyla appeared to be
quite enjoying the way her presence here seemed to startle the
Sarmatian.

Eyla
 
“Do not be silly, beauty. Come and sit with us… 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….” Arthur growled in a low tone; obviously scolding the
harlot for her ‘description’ of what the two had been engaged
in prior to Darya’s arrival. Oh it had been innocent enough in
Arthur’s opinion….but he was far too exhausted to play any
further games with Eyla. And Darya did not deserve to be
confronted with….perhaps she fears that I have discovered the
truth.

Eyla
 
“What can we do for you Darya?”


“You are not interrupting anything at all, Darya,” Arthur
added with an obviously more gentle tone than the one he’d
just used moments ago with Eyla. “I believe the two of you
already know one another,” He added while briefly gesturing
towards Eyla; his tone carried a more sardonic edge as he
spoke the latter as well. They know each other intimately,
much to my disdain.

Arthur then released a yawn and scrubbed a hand over his face.
He was exhausted and knew that he should rest. His left hand
moved to rest over his wounded side as he relaxed his posture
once again. Arthur had no need to conceal his weakened
physical state from Darya. The fire crackled in the small
moment of silence between them and Arthur’s gaze drifted to
the hearth. He admired the frequent bursts of orangey light as
the flames danced over the wood as if they had boundless
amounts of energy. God grant me a quick recovery….grant me
renewed vigor and stamina. Arthur bent a leg and slumped down
on the furs to find a more comfortable position on the bed.
His eyelids felt incredibly heavy again and the Roman thought
sleep would claim him again at any moment….but his curiosity
at how Eyla and Darya would interact with one another in his
presence kept the Roman awake…for now.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Jul 01, 2008 8:05 pm
Linnette


Drake
 
"Hrmph. There's a little. Bed, mattress, a chest of
drawers- enough for one. You would be wise to bring that
one along with you. Derfel and I can move it when he
gets here...there's a wash-stand and a screen. All
quite...bare. You be alright?"


“Mmmhmm.” Linnette nodded in affirmation, tight-lipped, her
eyes on the saddlebags which Drake had just set down by the
door. Despite his little attempt at distraction, her gaze had
followed them as they rose up from the bed and were deposited,
at the entrance to the room, and her throat had tightened a
little. They were all right, though- they were in good hands,
and they looked better with her blankets stacked on top of
them. Taking a breath, she raised her eyes to meet Drake’s and
nodded again. Remembering back to his words…it looked like at
least she would still be able to keep her- Gedeon’s- bed. She
even felt a touch of ironic self-satisfaction that the bed
that had come with this room- that had been here long before
Gedeon took the room over, probably- would be leaving with
her, and the soldier, or whoever, who came tomorrow to occupy
it would find it gone and nothing to sleep on. A victory for
her, even if it was a small one.

“I’ll pack the rest of the clothes,” Linnette murmured as she
stood up, suddenly feeling that she would rather do something,
some light task, than just sit there. Drake had taken care of
the things that would be difficult for her, the tapestry and
the blankets- it was smaller stuff that was left here. She
crossed to the dresser, passing right next to Drake, who stood
near the doorway, and solemnly, her eyes cast downward, opened
the drawer where Gedeon had kept most of his clothes. There
his spares lay, neatly folded, just as if he would be
returning and putting them on again. Linnette felt her eyes
starting to mist over again- but she was interrupted from any
such contemplation by a tap on the doorframe, and looked up to
see, to her surprise, two uniformed and armored soldiers
hovering there.

“Lady? Sir?” The young soldier- he was barely out of boyhood-
took in the scene of packing in a single sweep of his eyes,
before he sketched a salute to Drake. Drake was responsible
for training the new recruits, Linnette wondered- given this
boy’s age, it was likely that he was very familiar with Drake
Octavius.

“Sorry to disturb you, Lady, but we have to search the room. A
prisoner escaped- we’re searching everywhere.” The lad
grimaced, as if to indicate that he knew the escaped
whoever-it-was was unlikely to be here, but duty was duty and
there was no getting out if it; his companion, behind him,
nodded vigorously in agreement, eying Drake with a touch of
nervousness. Linnette paused, mouth half open, no sound
initially coming out. Search the room? It was such an
unexpected request- it took her a moment to even understand it
properly, lost in thought as she had been.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: linnet
Date: Tue Jul 01, 2008 8:31 pm

Gawain


Gawain kept his eyes on Catherine only long enough to see her
laugh lightly at him. He couldn’t read the laugh, but it
didn’t make him feel particularly good. He turned his
attention back to Galahad, missing Catherine’s appraisal of
Lancelot, her kiss blown to the Roman officer, and her walking
advertisement departure toward the tavern. He’d have had no
trouble reading any of those gestures, had he seen them.

Quintus
 
"Oh, servants' work, is it? Where I come from, servants
don't do things like that. That...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. See to your man, then, but he'd better
piss sunshine when you're done with him."


Lancelot
 
"What is soldiering? Marching around like ants when
mother calls for you to do so. Don't worry, Centurion,
we'll be out of your way soon enough - and all of us
will be fucking bleeding sunshine."


Kolya
 
"I've served my time boy. Rome gives me no orders no
more."


Gawain waited next to Galahad for the bickering with the Roman
to end. He really wasn’t interested in Lancelot’s stinging
words or in anything the Roman had to say. As far as the
blonde knight was concerned the matter was settled. But when
Kolya spoke, he looked hard for a moment at the older
Sarmatian. It was beyond Gawain’s understanding why the man
chose to be here at Badon, when he had earned his freedom.
Kolya had won what Gawain and Galahad, Lancelot and the others
yearned for every day. And he seemed miserable, bitter and
empty, like someone’s cruel caricature of an aging knight.
Kolya may have been a hated rival to his best friend, but to
Gawain the older man was a disturbing presence, intriguing and
frightening at the same time.

Galahad stirred and slowly opened his eyes, meeting his
friend’s concerned look. At first Gawain felt relieved that
the younger man was conscious. But it quickly became clear
that Galahad was hurting, seriously. He turned onto his back,
holding his stomach. Blood from the Saxon inflicted wound was
spreading in a circle on Galahad’s tunic.

Galahad
 
"Sorry... didn't mean … Made a right balls of that."


Gawain gave his friend what he hoped was a reassuring smile,
and kept his hand on Galahad’s shoulder. “It’s alright. You
were doing fine – just didn’t know when to let it end,” he
said quietly. Then Lancelot was kneeling at Galahad’s other
side. Gawain nodded his thanks and let his eyes communicate
his concern to the First Knight. As always, Lancelot could be
infuriating, yet he would be there when the others needed him.

Lancelot
 
His wound must be looked at again, I'd wager."


“The infirmary,” Gawain agreed, knowing Galahad would not be
pleased. The bloodied long-haired knight slipped his good arm
under Galahad and around his back to lift him up. “You look
like you could use a stop there yourself,” he said to Lancelot
as they started toward the hated medical building.
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golden_trillium

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Author: sabor ice
Date: Wed Jul 02, 2008 12:59 am
Nadeem


Nadeem assessed people, not situations, and the manic riot
ensuing just outside the tavern, disturbing his peace of mind
and dinner, had been cause for no difference. A drunken brawl
perpetuated out of proportion was not something he found
entertaining. He did not necessarily disapprove, but he also
took no pleasure in such a mindless spectator sport. Had it
been any one of his own men involved, Nadeem would've cast him
aside the chaos and warned him to save his energy for the
battlefield. Frivolities of life would come and go as the
wind, but there would always be a battlefield. Live today,
fight tomorrow - it was an admirable motto.

A recognition of the probable cause managed to spark a glimmer
of dark amusement within Nadeem's eyes. The cause that had
initially ignited the rage of the young instigator appeared to
have been a woman. A little sprite of a woman. He threw a
glance over at his men, convened around a small table beside
his, who each looked on the scene appraisingly.

"What more proof than this do I need for a conviction?" Rajin
chided his comrades in their native tongue, hand wavering
between the direction of the brawl and then the retreating
figure of the instigator's woman. "How can you still deny
women will have nothing to do with the fall of the Romans and
their empire?"

"Hokum is what you base your crazy talk on. Not all of us are
as gullible as you, Raj," Oded chimed in, his grin mirthless.

"Perhaps he is just worried that the woman responsible for
all this," Asi added, with a sweeping gesture of his hand
toward the destruction left in the earlier brawl's wake. "will
bewitch him into the descent of madness as well."

Rajin hissed an insult in rebuke, causing mocking laughter to
flood their corner of the room. Even Abaas, the most reserved
of the men next to Nadeem, was unable to suppress a crooked
smile at Rajin's expense. Temperamental Rajin quickly
attempted to turn the tables, tongue-lashing the
overly-sensitive Asi with a derogatory comment about the man's
deceased mother and sisters. Asi inconspicuously slid his hand
onto the table-top, his first two knuckles adorned with a
custom curved blade, no more than three inches in length,
hooked firmly between the digits. With lightning-like
reflexes, he swiped at Rajin from across the table, just
nicking the man's tanned skin on the underside of his chin.
Rajin growled, nostrils flaring and eyes dangerous with
contempt.

A tankard slammed hard against their table, startling the men
to attention, their fierce gazes flickering toward the owner
of the offending object.

"Enough," Nadeem ordered emphatically.

Asi, although reluctant, was the first to back down, settling
in his seat again and downing some ale. Rajin snorted
derisively, angrily shoving away from the table. The others
watched apathetically as the Arabian stalked away, nearly
bowling over a woman (Catherine) on exit. They turned back to
their table and engaged in a rowdy game of dice, but Nadeem
considered the blonde woman a moment longer. He raised his
empty tankard and waited for a wench to come and refill it,
his intense unwavering dark gaze still fixated upon Catherine.

"You must excuse Rajin," Nadeem called to her, his accent
thicker than usual as he carefully pronounced his words in the
Romans' language for her to understand. His tone suggested
that he was disapproving of the other man's behavior, but not
apologetic on his behalf. "He was raised without manners."
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golden_trillium

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Author: Kay
Date: Wed Jul 02, 2008 7:21 am
Guinevere


Guinevere pressed on through the forest, glancing back every
few moments to see if Mona was keeping pace. Somewhere in the
distance, she was aware of voices, and the movement of people
and horses. Her heart was thudding against her ribs, both from
the swiftness of her pace and from the mixture of fear and
excitement that was flowing through her body. Would they be
able to get Neeria away? Was she even still alive? Guinevere
knew that, if her father were to think Neeria capable of
betrayal, he would kill her himself; or the other Woads would.

The Woad princess turned around again; she had lost sight of
Mona. She stopped, glancing about anxiously; her breathing
harsh and ragged. Where was that girl?








Grace

Grace looked in on her mother. The older woman was sitting up
in bed, sewing. When she noticed her daughter, she looked up
and smiled.

"Are you feeling better now, Mother?" Grace enquired.

"Yes; thank you, dear" came the reply.

Grace had just finished bottling up a new batch of herbal hair
tonic.

She had noticed that their market stall was running low of
this product; it was one of their more popular items.

"Will you be alright if I take some supplies to the market?"
Grace asked.

"I'll be fine" her mother said. "You go, and don't worry"

Grace nodded and returned to the living area of their hut; she
loaded a dozen bottles into a basket and then, donning her
cloak and pulling the hood over her head, she called out a
farewell to her mother, before stepping into the outside world
again.

When she reached the market, the first thing that she noticed
was Caroline, her sister, flirting with one of the other
traders. Grace sighed and stepped over to their stall. She
unloaded the bottles of tonic, and then sank down onto the
little seat. It was a wonder their goods were still there, for
Caroline was paying no heed to the stall.

"Caroline" she called.

Her sister turned around in surprise.

"Grace! I thought you were looking after Mother"

"I thought you were working on the stall!" Grace retorted. "Go
back home and no arguements"

Caroline opened her mouth to protest, but on seeing the look
on her sisters' face, she thought better of it and scuttled
away. The boy that the younger girl had been talking to,
looked across angrily at Grace and moved back to his own
stall. Grace sighed. She hated working in the market and yet
here she was, for the second time that day.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Darya
Date: Wed Jul 02, 2008 12:32 pm
Darya


It took the dark Sarmatian a long, a very long moment to
remember that Arthur had actually made Eyla his chambermaid.
The why was beyond Darya’s knowledge…even though she had an
idea. However, the first thing she could think of when seeing
Eyla was 'harlot'. A man and a harlot on a bed. One did not
need much of an imagination to picture what they would do
there…normally. But Darya trusted Arthur…and she knew how
serious his health state was. The idea which her surprise had
briefly sent through her mind appeared silly to her the more
she thought about it… The dark-haired shook as much of her
darker thoughts off as possible and slowly approached the two
persons on the bed while taking off her cloak so that the
black-red dress was revealed…

Eyla
 
“Do not be silly, beauty. Come and sit with us… 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. What can we do for you Darya?”


We? Now that made the Sarmatian arch an eyebrow at both, Eyla
and Arthur. Of course he was alone…he was supposed to be for
he needs rest to recover…, she thought but the Roman’s quiet
warning towards the harlot then helped a lot to put Darya a
bit more at ease. And indeed the dark-haired kept moving until
she reached the bed…and took a closer look at Arthur’s weary
face. A part of her still wanted to have a word with Lancelot
to find out how on earth a Saxon and a Woad had managed to get
close enough to the Commander to injure him so severely. She
knew how it felt to be stabbed by a sword…thus every fibre of
her could relate to the pain her lover was feeling. And he did
not deserve it…

“Well, I guess that is way better than dealing with ill-mooded
knights or Roman officers…”, the female Sarmatian stated
wryly, leaving it open if she was addressing Eyla or Arthur as
she did so…

Arthur
 
“You are not interrupting anything at all, Darya. I
believe the two of you already know one another,”


Darya could not help but smile faintly at the Roman’s first
sentence…the second, however, let that smile fade again. Yes,
she knew Eyla…for the other woman had once caught her in a
weak moment. No, the Sarmatian had not forgotten about what
the exotic beauty had wanted to teach her…and to what she had
even given in…to a certain limit. No, she had not
forgotten…but buried deep in her mind. Her earlier encounter
with Eyla had left Darya both…curious…but mostly feeling
guilty. Guilty for what had almost happened. Though in fact,
the other woman had just helped her to finally find some peace
and sleep, had she not? If in a very special way…

Lifting her chin slightly, the dark-haired sat down on the bed
as well…but opposite Eyla, with Arthur resting between them.
“Yes, we have met…”, she said and met Eyla’s dark gaze with
her own for a moment before gently placing a hand onto
Arthur’s thigh. “But what is even more important is how you
are doing…”, the Sarmatian added and tilted her head a little
as she studied her lover’s face, “…did you get some food by
now?” And as if wondering if Eyla perhaps knew the answer,
Darya briefly glanced at the woman opposite her from under her
dark eyelashes…yet still mainly focused on Arthur…
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golden_trillium

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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Wed Jul 02, 2008 7:56 pm
Mona


Mona wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand as the
two women pressed through the forest, running most of the way,
trying to catch up with Neeria's party. They had managed to
cover quite a bit of ground by taking short cuts where the
horses could not go.

Where was Neeria leading them? Mona wracked her brain. They
weren't going in the direction of the village - they were
headed for the camp. Nobody would be there - Merlin was on his
way to the village.

Realization slowly dawned on Mona. Neeria wasn't leading the
Romans to Merlin! She was leading them to the camp and the
camp would be deserted! Mona became furious, this was not
going according to her plans at all. The women would be at the
camp soon!

She glanced over at Guinevere, who was running just ahead of
her. Mona would have to act now if she was to get rid of her.
This could be her only chance. Making up her mind, Mona
stopped running right then and darted behind a tree. Her
breathing was labored and her heart was pounding. Guinevere
must have realized Mona was no longer behind her, because she
stopped and looked around, walking back just a few steps to
where'd they'd just been.

When Guinevere was close enough, Mona sprang out from behind
the tree. Guinevere must have sensed something and turned in
Mona's direction, just as Mona gave her a crushing blow to the
face. Mona took advantage of Guinevere's surprised reaction
and grabbed the other woman by the hair at the root, pulling
her to the ground and rolling with her. Mona threw punches at
Guinevere's head and body. Her teeth were bared and her blue
eyes afire. With intentions to kill Guinevere, Mona reached in
her boot for her dagger, wanting to kill quickly.

This will be easy, she smiled as she unsheathed the weapon.









Neeria and Malcus Barbattus

Neeria breathed a small sigh of relief when Merlin momentarily
locked eyes with her and raised his hand. He had seen her and
acknowledged her. Neeria knew she would be heard and that
comforted her somewhat. She had no idea what the Romans
wanted, but she didn’t care. She would be going home soon and
that was all that mattered. Neeria glanced at Ceinwyn again
who stood there with her hair wild and her eyes glazed over.
Neeria hoped she would be able to talk to her friend soon. In
the meantime, the man they called optio exited the hut and
behind him, Neeria saw Tristan.

Merlin
 
"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." "


Neeria looked at Tristan. He was no more a slave than they all
were. They were all slaves to the Roman Empire. Her gazed
lingered on the scout a moment longer before she turned her
attention back to Merlin. She wanted to talk with him but
first things first. Despite herself, she had in fact, done
what she told Arthur she would do. Inadvertently, she had led
the Romans directly to Merlin. They believed she had betrayed
her people. That was absurd. She glared at the optio as he
spoke to Merlin, snarling at him when he called her a traitor.

Amadeus
 
"I am in charge. My name is Amadeus Scipio, Optio of the
Roman Legion at Badon Hill and I speak for Arthur
Castus. This woman has led us to this place and had made
a promise to lead us to Merlin in exchange for her life.
She is now yours to deal with as you see fit to deal
with any traitor found amongst you. Now..are you
Merlin?"


The voice in Malcus’ head screamed and he willed it shut up.
Scipio was antagonizing the man already. This wasn’t going to
go well. Malcus didn’t dare open his mouth again, he’d see
Scipio’s liver hanging from a tree before he tried to help him
again. Barbattus looked at Mordred and wondered why the fuck
he was still sitting on his horse. The captain looked at
Merlin, waiting for the Magician’s reaction. Malcus had a lot
of experience with these people and he knew that Merlin didn’t
take kindly to Roman arrogance. Barbattus controlled his
breathing and prepared for whatever Merlin would do or say
next.
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golden_trillium

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Author: linnet
Date: Wed Jul 02, 2008 8:53 pm

Juna


Juna was well aware of the awe and respect that Merlin
received from his own people. So it was no surprise to witness
how the Woads reacted when he entered the camp’s clearing
where Nolan’s party faced the Romans. But she would not have
expected the intruders to be so noticeably affected by the
power of his presence as well. Of course he was his most
magnificent self in this tense encounter. Confident and
intimidating, and completely in control.

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…”


Merlin
 
"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."


As hard as it was to look at anything other than Merlin, Juna
forced herself to take stock of the entire situation. She
stood at a distance from him, as he’d instructed, but not too
far. She also stood alone, separated from the warriors who had
arrived with Merlin. Juna felt no fear because the Woads so
clearly had the upper hand here. She noted three fit looking
men from the fort – one on horseback, one standing near him,
and the one Merlin referred to as a slave holding a knife to
the neck of defiant looking Woad. There were three additional
horses, and then there was Neeria.

Juna watched the slip of a woman as Neeria struggled a little
with Nolan. The older woman was trying to figure out what
Neeria’s involvement was in this meeting. Neeria had turned
her attention away from Nolan, and was now looking desperately
at Merlin. He briefly acknowledged and dismissed her as he
remained focused on the Romans, waiting for whichever man was
their leader to respond. When the fourth man emerged from the
hut and claimed to be in charge, Juna felt his apprehension
and uncertainty even from where she stood.

Amadeus
 
"I am in charge. My name is Amadeus Scipio, Optio of the
Roman Legion at Badon Hill and I speak for Arthur
Castus.This woman has led us to this place and had made
a promise to lead us to Merlin in exchange for her life.
She is now yours to deal with as you see fit to deal
with any traitor found amongst you. Now.. Are you
Merlin?"


He may have sounded like a nervous fool, but his words
concerning Neeria sealed the female captive’s guilt in Juna’s
mind. The woman warrior had betrayed Merlin. She had bargained
his safety for her life, and then carried out her promised
treachery. A loyal follower would have withstood torture and
given their life before making such a wicked bargain. Neeria
did not appear to have suffered torture, and was even dressed
in Roman clothing. And Juna had no doubt that had the Romans
not been intercepted at the campsite, Neeria would have taken
them on to the village. When Merlin decided that his people
would return to the village, Neeria had already been captured.
She couldn’t have known that they had left the campsite. It
didn’t matter to Juna that this group of Romans claimed to
only have come to talk. Neeria had no right to agree to lead
them to Merlin. And for actually carrying out that agreement,
she should die. Juna did not have a violent nature, but how
could she accept an act so dangerous to the person she loved?
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golden_trillium

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Author: sabor ice
Date: Thur Jul 03, 2008 12:54 am
Ash


Everything was a blur as the two of them escaped the iron claw
of the Roman keep and darted through the trees. Ash's body
ached in protest, but at the moment he paid no heed. Sheer
ecstasy coursed through his veins as he precariously took in
the familiar terrain beneath his feet, knowing his path by
heart not mind. His speed increased to a point where his
presence seemed ghostly, leaving the forest behind undisturbed
in his wake. He had kept hold of Eala's hand, forcing the girl
to keep his pace through the thicket. She became his shadow.

At some stage he stopped, Eala with him. Beads of sweat
adorned his skin despite the chill of winter, his body heaving
from ragged breaths. His momentum lost, dizziness set in. He
closed his eyes, placing a hand to his temple, trying to shake
away the feeling. His mid-section felt to be on fire, the
distinct tangy, rusted smell of blood evident as it carried in
the wind. He pushed a slow, strained sigh through his
nostrils, dark eyes trying to re-focus. It was then Ash
noticed the tracks.

Eala made an alerting noise behind him, and he turned to see
she had discovered what he had discovered only moments ago. He
could tell from her reaction, the suspiciousness in her black
eyes, that the tracks had been made fairly recently. His gaze
followed the prints - which had been identified specifically
belonging to a horse, several horses in fact - leading away
from the direction of the fort. Hunkering down, the Woad also
placed a hand against the damp Earth, placing a finger then
against his chin in thought, glancing in the direction the
horsemen had gone.

What business did these intruders have in the deep wood? And,
then it donned on him. He lifted his face, eyes dark with
contempt.

"Neeria," he sneered, spitting at the ground as he stood and
squared his shoulders.

When Ash had left Neeria to Guinevere and Mona earlier that
day, he recalled having seen her being led in the direction of
the stables beforehand. She must've been leading the Romans to
Merlin after all! He hadn't wanted to believe the whispers,
the doubt, the disturbing report of Mona's, that one of
Merlin's warriors could so blatantly betray them all at the
drop of a hat, but the evidence against the woman was near
overwhelming. To think he had agreed to help save Neeria, when
all along she had planned such treachery against her people!
Against Merlin! The irony made him erupt in laughter, dark and
humorless laughter.

He turned toward Eala then, his tone sinister, "It seems you
might get a taste of revenge today after all." It was not a
promise, just a possibility.

Would their camp have been emptied by now? Or would their Woad
brethren be expecting unwelcome company and a traitor? Ash
grit his teeth, looking ahead, then looking to Eala. He
gestured with a jut of his head for her to follow, and he
sprinted off in the direction of the camp.









Cassidy, Fleur, & Cáel

Fleur bounded up to the bed she shared with Cassidy, giving a
dramatic 'oomph' as her tiny form collided into it. She
grinned cheekily up at her older sister, her blue eyes
sparkling with mischievousness. Cassidy pounded one fist onto
her hip, looking down at the girl unamused. She was about to
part her lips and scold Fleur for making a nuisance of
herself, when a dark shadow caught her attention. She threw
back her head and narrowed her eyes at Cáel, nose wrinkling in
suspicion, never taking her gaze off of the pale-skinned man
as she reached out to grab Fleur by the upper arms. She
ignored the little girl's protests and pulled her onto the bed
in front of her, one arm draped over Fleur protectively.

Cáel stood back a bit from the girls' bed, uneager to get too
close to the rug rats as long as it was not necessary. He was
not especially fond of children. The corner of his mouth
twitched, trying to pull into a smile, but instead it turned
into a nervous tick. The older girl was already glaring
daggers at him. A defiant little spitfire by the looks of her,
and a bit older than he had anticipated. The little one was
friendly and willing enough, but the Goth was not convinced
Cassidy would be the same. Perhaps this was going to prove
more difficult than he had thought.

Well, at least they weren't dead - a tad on the puny side
maybe - but not dead.

"You must be Fleur's sister. My name is - " the Goth began,
but then was rudely cut off.

"What do you want?" Cassidy snapped. Cáel could almost feel
her flames.

"Sissy, Gabe's my new friend!" Fleur chimed in.

"Hush, Fleur," Cassidy told her.

"She's quite right. We met at the door," Cáel interjected,
sagging onto the spare cot beside the girls' and favoring the
younger of the two with a warm smile. "Your little sister
seemed at a loss as to where you were, so I thought it best to
help her find you again."

"See!" Fleur chided, twisting her head around to look up at
Cassidy. "He's nice!"

"Hm," the twelve year old murmured, considering. The man had a
kind voice, but he was terribly queer in appearance,
frightening almost. "Fine. I thank you for your help. Now you
can go."

Cáel chuckled lightly at her brusque dismissal, raising his
hands palm-side out in defense.

"Please, I have no intention of harming either you or your
sister. But, if I may, I would like to give you both
something," Cáel replied smoothly.

"A present?!" Fleur gasped delightedly, wide-eyed.

"What is it?" Cassidy inquired, eyeballing him dubiously.

Cáel slid from the bed and knelt down on the floor, hand
pressed to his thigh, trying to create the illusion for the
older girl that she was in control of the situation. She
seemed to unwind a bit at the gesture, watching him now more
out of wariness, curiosity. The Goth glanced over his shoulder
a moment, then looked back to the girls, giving a jut of his
head in the direction of the door.

"Why don't you go look in the first pouch of my belongings,
Fleur? They're on the floor near the entrance," he offered,
his grin dazzling. "You'll find your presents there, alright?"

Fleur managed to squirm out of Cassidy's hold, wasting no time
in clambering off of the bed and traipsing over to retrieve
her treasure. Both Cassidy and Cáel watched after her a
moment, before re-locking gazes, silently studying one
another.
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