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| July 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Apr 3 2010, 09:33 PM (2,365 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Apr 4 2010, 07:56 PM Post #16 |
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Author: Kay Date: Thu Jul 03, 2008 6:46 am Guinevere Guinevere took a few steps back to look for Mona, and suddenly her world erupted into a fury of violence and pain. The first blow caught her completely off guard and before she could recover, a hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her down. Guinevere took a few seconds to register that it was Mona who had attacked her; a thousand questions flashed through her brain, but the princess pushed them away; this was fight for survival; she saw Mona reach for a dagger and instantly reacted, bringing up the heel of her palm hard under the girl's chin and knocking her to the side. Guinevere sprang to her feet, flinging the cloth from her head to allow her better vision. Her hand reached into her clothing and she drew out a long knife from it's hiding place. The blade flashed as Guinevere struck out, catching Mona's right wrist and causing the girl to drop her dagger. "What do you think you're doing?" she spat angrily. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 4 2010, 07:57 PM Post #17 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Thu Jul 03, 2008 7:23 am Eyla Darya was quite pretty, but she embodied the insecurities of every woman in this fortress. Eyla watched her with a quiet and disguised interest, waiting for the next flicker of suspicion to cross her eyes. The Sarmatian had been an enjoyable patron, and Eyla quite liked her. Eyla, the harlot, had bedded almost half of Badon, and she could remember every patron, every weakness, every delightful preferred fetish. Darya had been pleasured easily and without much hesitation on her part. She had kissed gently, beautifully, and she had been moist for the harlot. Eyla sat on the bed, and remembered every detail. Her dark eyes sparkled beneath her thick eyelashes, and her lips quirked in feline amusement. She breathed gently and slowly, and her bosoms rose in her bodice with each breath. Several dark curls twisted over her shoulders, catching her silken skin and teasing it with shadow. The firelight flickered shadows across her skin, and caused her gold bangle to glitter vehemently. She was an impressive sight, and she knew it. Eyla made her dull surroundings seem…impressive. She was placed strategically on his bed…and she was amused. Was Arthur embarrassed to be caught sharing company with a prostitute? It mattered not. Eyla was glad to be discovered in his company…it did wonders for her reputation…
Oh a growl! Eyla turned to Arthur and feigned innocence. Her lips parted, and she fought back laughter. Why did everyone take life so seriously? If Darya suspected them, then so be it. Perhaps it would do wonders for their relationship? Surely Darya would try harder in the bedroom now. She had competition.
Something clicked into place. Eyla’s smile did not disappear, but suddenly she understood…everything. That night. Eyla had shared Arthur’s bed on a stormy night, but he had interrogated her first. The Roman had pushed for details of female lovers, and Eyla had believed it to be a fetish, a personal pleasure. But no? Perhaps there was a better reason for his pursued interest? Eyla blinked lazily at the Sarmatian, smiling to herself. If Arthur knew her moments with Darya, or even suspected them…then he clearly did not like it. Ah, she was not surprised. He was noble, and deeply Christian. Men like Arthur did not share lovers, which was a damnable pity. He could have anyone he wanted. He should merely flash a few golden coins, and women would come flocking. Indeed, Darya was a pleasant choice, but she was too nice. Too vulnerable to emotion. Eyla fancied she could see Darya’s thoughts and feeling reflected easily in her dark eyes…and it was not good. Eyla watched Darya move towards the bed, but she did not sit beside her. How rude….Eyla smiled…
Darya looked at Eyla, and the whore merely smiled back. She was not intimidated by the Sarmatian, it would take more than sworn secrecy to keep her quiet. Eyla lifted a hand upwards, and toyed with her hair again, lazily. She noticed Darya place a hand protectively onto the Roman’s thigh, and she smirked naughtily. Oh dear, Darya was suspicious, but she could not play better than Eyla. The harlot did not draw attention to the movement, but rather continued playing with her hair. She lowered her eyes slowly, and viewed Arthur from underneath thick eyelashes. Her lips parted in a flirtatious pout, and she glanced sideways at Darya. She spoke, immediately disregarding the woman’s speech to Arthur. “He is quite fine, beauty. He has been keeping the best company…” Eyla purred, and her smile widened. Yes, she was goading the dark Sarmatian…but then, it was her own fault. She had been stupid enough to portray suspicion, and sowed the seed for Eyla’s game. She looked intensively at Arthur, before turning away slowly. A beautiful smile slipped across her lips, and she lifted a finger to her bottom lip. She toyed with it, lazily. Before speaking again. “You do not seem pleased to see me, Darya. Have I offended you somehow hmm? I thought we were on…good terms…” Eyla laughed lightly, before finishing. “Forgive me, I am so rude. You two were talking…” Oh it was brave, but she cared not. The woman continued to pout mischievously, her eyes dazzling beneath thick eyelashes… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 4 2010, 08:00 PM Post #18 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Jul 03, 2008 7:49 am Merlin and Tristan
“I am.” Merlin paused a moment, studying this Scipio, and half-wondering if one of the other men was going to dispute his being in charge, given the disagreements that Nolan had mentioned. No one else spoke, though- the man who had initially been standing in front of the hut merely stood warily watching, as did the knight on the horse. The slave scout, moving slowly and carefully, lowered his knife and eased himself out from behind his tied-up captive, gave the man a light push on the shoulder, indicating he should stay there, and stepped just outside the doorway, somewhat to the side, where he could keep an eye on both the interior and exterior of the hut, but that was all. No dispute- so Scipio was the one he was talking to, then. And he was a proud man indeed. Proud, and haughty, his chin up and his bearing aristocratic, thinking himself- and Rome- master of all he surveyed here in this clearing. But Merlin could sense uncertainty beneath the façade, and well the man might be uncertain. He was no longer in Rome, nor any place where Romans held sway. He was on Woad soil now, an alien world to him, and he was at a disadvantage. Surely he knew that, even if he never would have admitted it. The Woads could kill all four men right now if they wanted to- but perhaps they wouldn’t. “I do find it curious, Amadeus Scipio-“ Merlin’s attitude was casual, the name rolling easily off his tongue even though he had never spoken it before- “that even after the traitor Neeria has helped you, you discard her without a second thought.” His eyes shifted to Neeria now, where she stood, stiffly and defiantly near Nolan. “Did you think you would get some reward out of this, live in luxury on Roman gold, perhaps? It seems you overestimated their generosity.” The question, though biting, was not rhetorical. He expected an answer, expected her to unashamedly explain herself, as a true Woad should. Woads did not cower and snivel and beg forgiveness- when they had done wrong, they admitted it and took the consequences. And to all appearances, Neeria had done very, very wrong indeed. As he was waiting for her to answer, though, Merlin's ears caught a noise coming from the brush beyond the camp- some distance away, he thought, and there were no voices, but still, it sent the hair on the back of his neck prickling, sent off soft alarms in his head- it seemed to him that the noise was human, and that there was some sort of struggle going on, a fight, even. The other Woads- and the Sarmatian slave- had noticed it too, had subtly shifted their posture to listen, while not relaxing their alertness toward the happenings in the clearing. Without removing more than a fraction of his attention from Neeria, Merlin held up two fingers in Nolan's direction, and then pointed in the direction of the sound, his meaning silent, but obvious to his lieutenant. Send two to check it out. It could be nothing- perhaps a couple of animals scuffling. On other hand, something told Merlin it wasn't. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 4 2010, 08:02 PM Post #19 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Jul 03, 2008 12:59 pm Darya The situation was awkward for Darya…but she forced herself to recall some of the things she had learned under Corvus' command…and the dark-haired schooled her features to a perfectly calm expression and even a hint of the lively sparkle that usually graced her dark eyes returned to them. The first surprise of finding Eyla in Arthur’s room was fading and the Sarmatian would adapt to the scenario as best as she could… She just had to…
Darya smirked slightly at this comment. It was a typical Eyla comment. Since she had met the other woman for the first time, the dark Sarmatian secretly envied her for being able to seemingly take life so easily. For the lightness she had about her attitude and behavior. Like with most people, it was quite possible that Eyla, too, had another face which she kept hidden from the world…but still… However, the dark-haired allowed herself the selfish thought that either she herself or Lancelot still were the best company for Arthur…despite all the mess the three of them had been through. But she thought it better to not voice this…not yet at least… “A peaceful sleep and something to eat would have been the best company I dare say…”, the Sarmatian stated dryly and her hand unconsciously squeezed the Roman’s thigh gently. Not to mention a healer to check on him again, she added in thought and shifted a little to sit more comfortably on the bed.
For the first time since she had entered the room, Darya met Eyla’s gaze ever so openly…and the other woman’s words inevitably forced every single detail about their first encounter back into the Sarmatian’s mind…and before her mind’s eye…from confusion to curiousness and back. Pleasure and pain…all the same… Physical pleasure…and emotional pain. That’s what it had mostly been back then. It had just happened…and she still did not really know why… “You have not offended me, Eyla…”, the female Sarmatian finally replied, still holding the harlot’s gaze, “…but the men have just returned from a battle…and the Fortress has been under attack as well… I was just hoping to find the Commander…” – my lover – “…sound asleep…getting the rest he needs and deserves… If that makes me appear rude, I apologize…” With that, Darya gave the other woman a lopsided smile. And I was hoping to find him alone for there is something I have yet to tell him and I still don’t know how…, the Sarmatian thought bitterly…finding herself starting to feel a bit possessive about Arthur. No, she did not fear Eyla as a serious competition of some sort for the Commander’s heart. Something told her that she had no reason to…but Darya could not quite place what it was. Maybe it was Eyla’s…occupation. Maybe it was the Sarmatian’s love for the Roman…and the trust in him. And yet the harlot’s presence had her a bit tensed… With her free hand, Darya brushed a strand of long dark hair out of her face…but as it kept falling back forward, she tucked it behind her ear and shifted her gaze towards Arthur once more. He was so pale…so weak right now. The Gods damn those who had done this to him… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:44 PM Post #20 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Thu Jul 03, 2008 2:22 pm Galahad
Meagre consolation -but Galahad was like a child. Even this small gesture from Gawain was enough to console him. He shut his eyes and tears pricked the very edges of his eyelids. His lips were drawn out stiffly, blood lazily oozing from his top lip into his facial hair.
Galahad was silent as he was pulled to his feet. His head fell forward, damp black curls covering his baby-blue eyes which were downcast and sad. Gawain's arm was about his shoulders, the young knight draped his arm over Lancelot's shoulder, hobbling along miserably, stumbling between the two. He wanted to complain about going to the infirmary, but from the way his head had fallen forward he was able to see the spreading darkness that discolored the water on his tunic. Huffing out a breath, Galahad glanced up sideways at Lancelot and pouted, then looked over at Gawain. "You won't tell Arthur, will you?" he asked pitifully, not wanting the Commander to be made aware of his ill actions. And not for fear of punishment... oh no no ... the younger knight did not want to embarrass Arthur, he didn't want to disappoint the man. Drake
Drake knew her eyes followed the saddlebags, and try as he might to angle his knees just so that she would not see them so clearly, her eyes were rivetted. Her dismal confirmation that she would be alright was met with a cynical, disbelieving twitch to Drake's dark eyebrow. She didn't sound like she would be alright, and tears were touching the hazel depths of her eyes once more, an incredible sadness lingered back there. Drake felt helpless when faced with that sadness because he knew that he would never be what would put an end to that sadness.
The Spaniard nodded his head briskly. He flexed his fingers into his palm, the urge to reach out and touch her arm as she passed him by was unbearable. The urge to turn her towards his body once more and hug her like he had only a few moments ago, to just have her near him again was ... A knock on the doorframe. Drake was about to scoop down to pick up the blankets and tapestry when the knock came. He was half-bent and cast a baleful glower at the intrusion, rising to his full height, empty handed as the door was pushed open properly and a guard stood in the doorway. Of course Drake recognised him - the boy had promise if he could just take his eyes off the girls for long enough to focus on training. His eyes swept over to Drake and he gave a start before sketching a precise salute. The old soldier nodded his head and half-lifted his hand to dismiss the salute as unnecessary.
There was a surge of indignant anger in Drake and he stepped forward, his shoulders pulled back. He didn't look the way he normally did when fronted with one of his own boys who were acting out of line. Oh he had orders.! Granted - but Drake was in the room. What made this imbecile think that he would be hiding a prisoner in the very room he stood in? With his broad back to Linnette, Drake glared down at the boy who flinched, stepping back once before halting, having learned his lesson in backing away from Drake a couple of weeks ago. "Do you see the prisoner?" Drake asked. The boy's eyes veered towards Linnette and without conscious thought Drake started to growl. The boy's eyes quickly looked away, looking over Drake's other shoulder and downwards and back to Drake's unfathomable orbs. "No, Sir." he replied crisply. Drake gave a lopsided smirk and nodded his head, gestured for the guard to leave and turned back to Linnette. The boy was saluting his back now and turned to continue the search throughout the fortress. Drake pursed his lips and scratched the back of his head, looking down at the clothes drawer Linnette had been about to rummage through. "I'll leave you with that - bring these to the other place." he murmured, with a flick of agesture towards the saddlebags and tapestry and blankets. For some reason he wasn't pleased to involve Linnette in any of his official duties and tasks at Badon, he didn't want her burdened by his job or intimidated by his reputation amongst the men he trained. There was a very good reason why Drake had been picked for the job after all. Catherine Within moments of entering the tavern, Catherine had assessed the patrons, directing her hazy green eyes towards the most likely of men who would want the company of a whore. Her mind and heart were just not in it. Now and then her gaze would flicker to the doors expecting someone else to come in and that was just silly. She should focus more on work than on talking to Knights who were not going to pay for her time. It was whilst looking at the door that someone bumped into her. His foot caught in between her ankles as he recklessly ambled towards the door. Catherine gave a gasp of surprise and barely caught herself from falling to the ground by slamming her palm against a table hard enough to hurt. Initially she thought it was someone who disliked her - when she saw it had been an accident she felt an undignified huff of anger surge through her. Shaking her head, she turned away from the man who had bumped her and saw a man of a similar, dark appearance watching her. The blonde lifted her chin and looked away quite deliberately, not amused nor impressed one bit at his friend's brusque and rude exit.
His accent drew her in! Catherine had intended to be ruffled about the bump, cradling her sore hand to her stomach, but when she heard the thick, elegant, sensual accent upon this man's lips she could not help herself. It was all so natural, the allure that flowed from her pale skin and eyes as she turned to look at Nadeem again. Her green eyes were warm now, though her expression remained unchanged - affronted and put-out. He had tattoos on his cheeks... similar to Tristan, she fancied, and more upon his dark forehead. Intrigued, the blonde held his gaze, letting her eyes flutter closed in a pretty little blink before speaking - "And what of you? Were you raised in the same way, sir? Or can I expect something more friendly if I come closer?" she asked over the noise of the tavern, uncaring of those who might listen in. Aleady her mind was flickering back and forth, wondering where this man came frm, what those tattoos meant -- who the other men with him were. Catherine never liked taking more than one man to bed but it would not be the first time should she win the favour and custom of these foreigners. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:47 PM Post #21 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Thu Jul 03, 2008 3:42 pm Nolan Nolan was relieved for Merlin’s presence. The wise magician knew Roman arrogance, and had more patience for it. The tall Woad warrior stood firmly beside Ceinwyn and Neeria, and his jaw was tensed aggressively and angrily. His green eyes flared vehemently as he listened to Merlin’s wisdom, to his negotiation. The Optio had shown himself at last…and Nolan was amused by his sudden show of confidence. He had been cowardly, hiding behind his lower-ranking officers and his single Sarmatian slave, but now? He seemed to demand immediate recognition from the Woad warriors, and Nolan tightened his lips into a grimace. A hard wind blew through the trees around them, rippling over branch and leaf, and biting hard at Nolan’s cheeks. It was cold, chilled and Nolan preferred this weather. It was truly British, strong and conditioning its people. Resting one hand upon his dagger, he felt the blue paint crack over his knuckles. If the Romans decided to fight, then Nolan was ready. He would bleed them all before they won another battle…
Nolan glanced down at Neeria, and bore his teeth nastily. Apparently she was strong enough to dash his attempts at holding her, and so he made no effort. He glared at her, and it was a harsh threat. There was a noise in the distance, and it interrupted his glare. His chin lifted sharply, and his fingers tightened around his dagger hilt. Looking to Merlin, he saw the Magician gesture to the woodland…and he obeyed. With a sharp nod of his head, he got the attention of five of the warriors…and led them away from the hut. Ceinwyn remained alongside Merlin. The group of Woads approached the thick trees cautiously, and swung up into the branches and out of sight. Nolan paused above them, listening hard. He heard female voices, the sharp snap of twigs…there was a skirmish. No noise of blades, no thump of hooves. Nolan frowned darkly, and gestured for his men to move forwards… Eyla Eyla should leave. Clearly Darya and Arthur were lovers and desired time together…but no, Eyla was quite comfortable on the Roman’s bed. She glanced around the room with pretty eyes, sighing and parting her lips at various things. She cleaned this room often, and was still fascinated by it. Arthur was not a tidy man, he was rather messy. There was usually armour leant against different walls, coins scattered upon his desk, and papers everywhere. Oh, Eyla loved his papers. She liked to read them when he was away…which was often. If asked, Eyla knew a lot concerning the politics of Rome and Briton…because she was inquisitive and fascinated by Roman affairs. It was harmless no? She was merely doing her research, and finding out who was worth bedding…and who was not. In truth, Darya had not been worth bedding for finance, but she had been a pleasant experience. Eyla believed she could teach the woman a lot, because Eyla was successful and happy. There was more to life than appearing solemn and worrying for your lover’s wellbeing. Darya should have lots of lovers, one for each mood and pleasure preference.
“Or perhaps merely staying at home, and not leaving himself open for such unfortunate traumas…?” Eyla chuckled lightly, and she lifted one slender leg onto the bed. She patted her skirts out around her, and arched an eyebrow at Darya. War was for people who felt they needed to fight for something to be happy, to be content and free. Well, Eyla was all of these, and she had not fought a battle in her life. Oh, she had slept with violent men…but they paid handsomely for harming her delicate and exotic body...
Darya met the harlot’s gaze, and Eyla leant forwards slightly. Deliberately intensifying her gaze with the Sarmatian, and hoping to summon all sorts of exquisite memories! Eyla remembered parting Darya’s lips with her tongue, and slipping her hand between the woman’s thighs…did Darya forget? Eyla parted her lips, and smirked. Darya was chastising her for being ignorant of Arthur’s injuries and not leaving him to rest? It was a justified rebuke, but Eyla was not interested. If Arthur was truly wounded terribly…then no-one should have left him alone. Did Darya love him? Eyla thought so, and she pitied the woman. Love was binding, trapping… “Yes, but sound asleep is quite boring, and he was in dire need of…entertainment…” Eyla paused deliberately. Her words spun from her lips like thick honey, and she blinked lazily towards the sleeping Roman. She glanced down at Darya’s possessive hand, and smirked again. Her weakness was the Roman. She displayed it unashamedly. Eyla spoke again. “Why are you not resting, beauty? After our last sweet encounter…you displayed a trouble for finding sleep? How does that fare?” Eyla glanced towards Arthur, unsure if he slept or not. In truth, she cared not. Darya;s suspicions and possessiveness amused her, and she was willing to play, to remind… |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:48 PM Post #22 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Thu Jul 03, 2008 6:38 pm Mona As Mona raised the dagger to cut Guinevere, she suddenly lost her advantage when Guinevere rammed her palm into Mona's chin. Mona felt and heard her jaw crack. The pain came immediately, nearly blinding her with white-hot intensity. Her nose was smashed. Guinevere scooted from underneath Mona and sprang to her feet, pulling a knife from nowhere and slicing Mona's wrist causing Mona to lose her grip and drop her dagger.
Mona touched her nose and flinched in pain, almost choking. She looked at her fingers which were full of blood. She spit out the hot, salty blood in her throat. Her eyes glazed over as sanity snapped out her grasp. "You BITCH!!!" the crazed woman screamed, spinning around and rushing into Guinevere. Bending over and charging forward, Mona rammed her shoulder into Guinevere's waist, pushing the woad princess down to the ground again. Mona straddled Guinevere and flailed her fists wildly. "I hate you! I hate you!" she screamed in Guinevere's face, spitting wildly like a crazed animal. Mona was in a blind fury. As she fought viciously, Mona did not feel the knife cutting and slicing into her. Nor did she react to the counter punches being lobbed at her. She foamed at the mouth like a rabid animal. Mona's mind had snapped and all she could think of was Merlin. He'll be mine!! the voices screamed in her head. Mona began to weaken and her vision blurred. She reached up to wipe the hair from her eyes. Only it wasn't hair. Mona's hand was full of blood. At first she thought it was Guinevere's blood, but somewhere in her insanity, she realized the blood was coming from her own head. Then she actually felt the knife sink into her bicep. She moaned in pain. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:50 PM Post #23 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Jul 03, 2008 8:24 pm Vanora
Vanora nodded at Bors' friend, though Bors gave his friend a totally different look. The two had been friends for as long as Vanora could recall, and from her point of view, they both knew each other very well...caused them to care what happened to the other. To protect. The red head ran her hand over her lover's strong arm to calm him, "I'll make sure he comes back, Dag. Just you take care of Saorise, okay? Saved you some ale as well, so when you both recover, you can celebrate all you want to..." Vanora gave Dagonet a bright smile that belied the type of day she had just had...all of the pain and tragedy that came with it. To add to it, she had not seen Javier for a week, or had it been longer? She had seen Ione though. Javier had been placed in their care, and now he was gone. Perhaps things had not worked out and he had decided to go back home to wherever he was from...
...As Bors moved to place his arm over Vanora's shoulder, she raised her hand to meet the one drapped over her shoulder. Shifting her weight, Vanora was able somehow to carry most of Bors weight so that he'd not have to place too much weight on the leg. She smiled up at him, though he was sort of grinning. Her gaze went to Dagonet, then to Saorise, and back, "Thank you for just being here Dag. Bors and I would not know what to do without you." She gave the tall knight a smile as well. With all he and Linnette were going through, perhaps at least a smile would help. "Let us know if there is anything we can do for you." Vanora shifted again, as she and Bors made ready to go home when Dagonet spoke again....
Vanora could only shake her head wishing that sometimes that there was a cure for pain, suffering and sorrow. It seemed that the good were always the ones to get the bad end of any deal. She never figured out how the knights lived from day to day with all of the loss...but battle was in their blood. Along with battles came loss. The ones lost in battle had also fought for freedom, an against the enemy. Without Arthur, the romans and the Sarmatian knights, the enemies would over run the land. "You take it easy, Dagonet. After Bors rests, and heals, he'll be back." Looking up at Bors, Vanora asked, "Are you ready to go home, lover?" In truth, after the type of day she had had, Vanora was ready for some time of taking care of Bors...devoting all of her love and attention to him as well. It had seemed like a long time since she and Bors had spent any time together, and with the children out playing, maybe they could have some quality time as well.... |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:51 PM Post #24 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Fri Jul 04, 2008 12:11 am Nadeem
Catherine had a certain allure about her, a 'come-hither' light to her eyes despite her obvious displeasure, and the way she carried her generous self made it no secret what she advertised. In some rural areas of his birthplace, where religion was twisted and beliefs were extreme, a woman of Catherine's profession was liable to be crucified. Solicitation of the body - despite a woman's marital status - was viewed as the work of the Devil, an unredeemable sin, a crime more heinous than even rape or homicide. A woman's body was a temple, a holy temple, property of the man she was married or betrothed to, and licensed to be used by no other. For her to give herself freely to another, or for another to take from her what she would not willingly give - bar her husband - was fatally punishable. Nadeem's mother had been no exception. As a small child, Nadeem had witnessed his father murder his mother in cold blood after accusing her of infidelity, the damaging and irreversible image forever scarring his mind. But, this was not the reason Nadeem no longer acknowledged most of the beliefs of his people. He had traveled the world, and amidst the sorrow and suffering he had encountered along the way, he had also found something else, something more. Opportunity. He chose not to believe in old traditions because he had been given the unhindered opportunity to taste life and all of its pleasures. And through his experiences, Nadeem had become a changed man - not necessarily a better man - but a changed one. He believed life should be enjoyable, and if women like Catherine found ecstasy through promiscuousness, then who was he to judge her? Not all of Nadeem's men approved of his loose morals. The old-time believers would never have confronted their leader about such things, but the tension created by the whore's presence was tangible, and Nadeem would never purposely aim to offend them further. Out of respect for their belief in the old ways, Nadeem was guarded with his intentions. He would not openly solicit for her intimate company just now, but he would keep her in mind for later. "I believe I remember something of manners," Nadeem replied, with a wry smile. Three sets of burning dark eyes flickered past their leader to Catherine, but it was only Abaas who reacted mortally affronted by her presence. He gave a snort of disgust, deliberately shifting his position at the table to face away from her. He snagged and pocketed the dice he and the others had been playing with, and replaced it with a new game involving a folded piece of marked cloth and bits used as pieces he had retrieved from his robes. "It is called Chaturaji, or Four Kings," Nadeem explained to Catherine of the game at hand, indifferent toward Abaas' reaction. He himself was not involved in the match, but merely speculated. There was a whimsical glint to the leader's usual unfathomable dark eyes as he glanced back at the blonde woman. "Do you know it?" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:52 PM Post #25 |
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Author: Kay Date: Fri Jul 04, 2008 1:11 am Guinevere Mona was hurt; Guinevere, eyes blazing, glared at the girl, who was spitting her own blood out onto the forest floor.
Charging at the princess, Mona slammed into Guinevere's waist and knocked her to the ground, sitting on her to continue her assault.
Guinevere fended off the wildly aimed blows. Mona seemed to have lost her grip completely; all the years of careful combat training were forgotten as she flailed her fists about, leaving herself exposed to blow after blow from both the knife that Guinevere held, and from the princess' free hand. Mona seemed more like a cornered wild animal than a woad warrior. She was actually foaming at the mouth! After what seemed to Guinevere like an eternity, but was in fact, merely moments, blood loss began to weaken the crazed girl. Another blow from Guinevere's knife and the girl groaned as the reality of her situation suddenly seemed to dawn on her. She rolled off of Guinevere, still trying to cling to her in desperation. A sudden movement grabbed the princess' attention and she jumped to her feet, now aware of the noise that the fight must have made. They had surely been discovered. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:53 PM Post #26 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Fri Jul 04, 2008 8:51 am Linnette and Linnesse
"All right," Linnette agreed with a nod. She shook her head, oblivious to Drake's discomfort with the situation- she just thought it strange that they should be searching for an escaped prisoner here- and strange, and worrying, that there was an escaped prisoner at all. She turned from the dresser, her eyes scanning the room, and automatically, even though it was perhaps silly, bent her knees and ducked down, enough to see under the bed. No one there- of course. "Hmm," was all she remarked, feeling a bit foolish even for looking- but Drake was already halfway out the doorway, the rolled-up tapestry on his shoulder and the other arm holding about half of the bedding. He was gone only for a short time, but in those few minutes, Linnesse and Derfel arrived at Linnette's room, immediately and cheerfully pitching in to help. Linnette set Derfel to disassembling the bed frame- it would have to be, to move it out of the room- while she and Linnesse finished with the last of the things from the dresser, Linnesse chatting about what had taken place in the tavern after Linnette had left- apparently, Gahalad's outburst had led to a large-scale fight, and Kolya had been heavily involved. Linnesse was obviously rather distressed that it had turned out that way, but happily, no one had seeemed seriously hurt, and Linnette nodded and commented appropriately as her sister talked, most of her mind not really on the conversation. So the work continued. Drake and Derfel did the heavy work, moving the things to the new quarters, while the two women, once Linnette's room was bare, moved on to Linnesse and Derfel's quarters, where much the same scene repeated itself. Linnette wasn't sure how long they worked- but it was at least a couple of hours, enough for the light coming in the window to be noticeably dim by the time that Linnette and Linnesse finished their final scan of Linnesse and Derfel's former quarters to ensure that nothing of theirs had been left behind. "Well, that's that- now to finally see this new place!" Linnesse exclaimed with a laugh. Neither of them had actually seen the new set of rooms yet- it had been easier to delegate the moving itself to the two men, while they did the packing. "After all this, I hope it's nice," Linnette murmurred with a wry twist to her mouth, as she reached out and took the small bag Linnesse was carrying from her sister's shoulder. It was not heavy- it contained some healing supplies that Linnesse liked to have available conveniently packed up, should she need them- but Linnette didn't want her sister to have to carry anything. She was looking exhausted again already, and indeed she flashed a tired, grateful smile as Linnette took the bag. "Thanks," Linnesse acknowledged, and Linnette returned the smile reassuringly, as they stepped out into the corridor together, Linnette shutting the door behind them. Linnesse had displayed very little sentimentality about leaving her former quarters- she didn't say it, but it was clear that wherever Derfel was going to be was home for her, and she wasn't concerned about anything in that vein. Linnette, on the other hand, was feeling more glum, though glad that she had at least been able to keep the bed. Derfel was putting the finishing touches on its assembly in the new quarters now, or so she had heard. "Now...where did they say it was?" Linnesse exclaimed as they started down the corridor, and Linnette had to shrug in response. She couldn't exactly remember what Drake had said- it was at the end of...what, exactly? She hesitated in her step, blowing out an exasperated breath- but at that moment, Drake rounded the one of the corners of the intersection in front of them, and it looked like the problem would be handily solved. "That's everything," she called out to him, gesturing behind them to Linnesse and Derfel's former, empty room. |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:55 PM Post #27 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Fri Jul 04, 2008 9:58 am Lancelot Lancelot met Gawain's eyes briefly as they helped Galahad to stand - well, met with one eye. His shiner was enormously bad - he'd have some colors on his face not seen often outside of a ladies' tapestry, he was certain.
Lancelot smirked quickly, but the pain from his various new wounds and his now swollen eye made that end. He shrugged and bit his lip at the flash of hurt it brought. He slung his arm about Galahad's waist, and between the two of them, they managed to get going toward the infirmary. "No. I've had worse - and besides, if I told anyone these wounds were given to me by the pup, I'd have to work too hard at getting my fierce reputation back." He flashed his teeth at the other knight, and grunted with the effort it took to guide Galahad. They were all three wet and bedraggled looking; first the rain, and then the bucket from the two lovely women. And healers both! Lancelot shook his head as he thought about whether he'd have to get back at them. Perhaps an idea for a later date. Thinking of "getting back" at Neeve brought another quick, dirty smile to his face. She was a specimen, that was for certain.
And that sentence brought reality crashing down around Lancelot's ears again. He gritted his teeth until his jaw popped as they continued their slow trek toward the hospital entrance. Gods - what in the fuck was he going to tell Arthur? Yet another thing between us. "Pup - how d'you think I'm going to explain this eye and new bruises to him? Despite his injury, he's still Arthur. He's still an annoying fool that sees everything. Even if I don't tell him, he'll find out somehow." He groaned something that sounded too close to troublemaking Roman son of a bitch but kept it mostly to himself. "I will do my best. You know me; a little lie comes so very easily." He stumbled a bit as they were walking, but didn't allow it to stop his stride as he and Gawain supported the foolish young one. "What in Arthur's damnable Hell made you do something so idiotic, Galahad? Kolya is old, larger than you, and even if I do say so myself, a lot stronger than some of us. What on earth made you think you could even put a dent in his armor?" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:56 PM Post #28 |
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Author: Kayla Date: Fri Jul 04, 2008 3:39 pm Fiona Getting the guards away from their post had been easier than Fiona had thought. For a moment, as she was pulling them away, the terror still written all over her face as she wondered what was happening to her dear "sister", the young woad felt guilty. This situation had called for her to lie and make up a false story that she truly hoped would not find some way to haunt her in the future, but what if she was telling the truth at a later period and no one believed her? Of course, she was probably being irrational but it didn't stop the myriads of thoughts parading through her head as she ran, stopping in front of a series of dark random alleyways, pointing inside and telling them that he had taken her sister down there. They nodded, telling her to stay where she was, drawing their swords and setting off to try and help her, when there really wasn't anything there. With one last look at their retreating backs, and a slight frown forming on her face, Fiona turned around and left immediately. As guilty as she may have been feeling about this and the way the guards had responded so quickly, leaving their posts almost instantaneously, there wasn't any way that she wanted to be around when they realized that there was no evil man or helpless sister waiting to be rescued from those dark alleyways. Instead, she picked up her pace again, hoping that she didn't attract any attention in the process. This thought caused her to look around, glad that there wasn't anyone around. And if she was lucky, the guards wouldn't come after her but instead, return to their posts. Fiona nervously wondered if Ash had managed to get Eala out of the prison but there was no way of truly knowing, unless she were to return home, which almost seemed like it wasn't an option anymore. Not after choosing to live in the fort. Although, who knew what would happen after this little act she had pulled. The fort was big but it wasn't that big and who even knew if the guards would keep quiet about it. Running her hands through her hair, the woad finally slowed down her pace, not quite sure where to go. She didn't want to be in sight of anyone that might recognize her, meaning the guards if they had ended up trying to follow her but her stomach still rumbled with hunger, as she had left the tavern after hearing about Eala. Her original resolve on just going home quickly dwindled as she moved in the direction of the tavern. On the way there, though, a sight caught her eye. Two of the knights, Gawain and the ever-famous Lancelot, were half carrying a bedraggled looking Galahad. Her curiousity took over as she looked at the bruises, wincing at the sight of them and she caught up to the trio. "What happened to him?" |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 01:59 PM Post #29 |
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Author: linnet Date: Fri Jul 04, 2008 8:30 pm Gawain It had become too hard for Gawain to look at Galahad’s face. The tears threatening to escape from the corners of his friend's eyes were gut-wrenching. It was hard to imagine that any grown man could be so pitiable. He looked liked a little boy, hurt and full of remorse. And people wondered why Gawain fretted over the younger knight. Why he felt the need to be protective. All they would need to do is look at the youngest Sarmatian now. Galahad couldn’t even hold his head up steadily as the two older knights supported him and half walked, half carried him toward the infirmary. Gawain’s knee ached with every step, and blood was running down his cheek, feeling stickier and thicker now than it had when he’d first been cut by one of Galahad’s wild punches. But he figured he couldn’t look as bad a Lancelot did with his eye almost swollen shut, coloring more vividly by the minute.
Gawain looked at Lancelot, his expression showing a touch of frustration. Did he have to use that word now? Maybe it was meant harmlessly, almost affectionately, but being referred to as the pup usually didn’t sit well with Galahad.
This time Gawain shook his head, reminding himself that if it wasn’t bothering Galahad, then there was no reason for him to be irritated. There were some things that were beyond control, and Lancelot was one of them. And the First Knight was right. Arthur would find out. Anyone who hadn’t witnessed the actual brawl would probably see the three battered participants making their way along the busy streets, right through the marketplace. Those who didn’t see them would hear about it from those who did. Knights’ affairs were always matters of interest to the inhabitants of Badon. And affairs involving fisticuffs and bloodshed, lovers’ quarrels and debauchery were the most interesting of all. Gawain turned his head to speak directly to Lancelot. The long-haired knight’s features were determined and serious. “When Arthur figures out your little lie, and asks you who was responsible for this mess, tell him it was me,” he said. “That won’t be a lie.” He kept his eyes on Lancelot, hoping for a sign of confirmation that Galahad wouldn’t be held at fault for what Gawain believed he had stupidly set in motion.
“I just told you, I put him up to it,” Gawain said quickly. If Galahad didn’t want to tell Lancelot any more, Gawain was going to make certain he didn’t have to – at least not now.
Gawain paused as Fiona intercepted them. He re-positioned his hold around Galahad’s waist to get better leverage, and waited for Lancelot to answer the young Woad’s question. Just how good a little lie could the First Knight come up with? |
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| golden_trillium | Apr 5 2010, 02:00 PM Post #30 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Fri Jul 04, 2008 9:15 pm Adian He thought of Fiona. He worried about her, and the memory of what had passed between them was still evident when his eyes went to the still unmade bed...the angle at which the pillow lie...The way Fiona's still clothed body had felt next to his. An odd sort of sweet love that had passed between them. Where was she? Was she alright? Perhaps he shouldn't have left her alone...not safe for her here...not safe.... Tatiana was so much more different. So innocent, playful, and had not yet experienced love from a man Adian guessed.
Closing the door behind him, Adian watched her reaction to the surroundings of his quarters. Their quarters: his and Thorn's. He noted that Tati was very well mannered...perhaps a bit too much. He liked to use manners, but sometimes one had to let their hair down and just have fun. "Not a problem, Tatiana. Thorn was some what of a stickler for being neat, which I am not..." Reaching out, he removed Tatiana's cloak and moved to hang it on a set of wooden pegs he had carved for just such a purpose. Adian moved over to a nearby table and got the basket of bread and cheeses, and carried it to some furs that had been scattered near the hearth. Looking around the room, his eyes fell on a set of odd set stones inlaid into the floor. Kneeling next to the stack, he removed them to reveal a small door. Lifting the door, Adian reached in and produced a small skin of wine, and fruit. Placing the items next to the trap door, Adian shut the door and replaced the stones. Getting to his feet, Adian picked up the items and brought them to the furs as well, set them down and then moved to stoke the fire a bit....
" Nope, all you have to do is make yourself at home by the fire, and help yourself," Adian poured himself a mug of the cold wine that had been in the small underground storage, and then poured Tatiana one, indicating as he did so, a place for her to sit... |
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