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November 2008
Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,047 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Tue Nov 18, 2008 2:05 pm
Eyla


Eyla wanted Gawain to react, she wanted him submit to her
seductions. The whore had bedded several of the Sarmatian
knights, and she knew their sad and pride-beaten duty to Rome.
They spoke endlessly about it. Boring. However, it made them
more aggressive, more possessive in the bedchamber. Eyla did
not complain. Sometimes she wanted some strong man to pull her
hair, to wrap each brown tendril around their fingers and tug
as they took her. From behind. But...she also liked it gentle.
Gentle but demanding. She imagined Artorius to be demanding,
to be vehement and dutiful in his efforts. Oh, but Eyla could
not deny her smile. Her fingers stroked at Gawain’s toned
stomach, and yet she thought of another patron, another
target. It was her way. She could never commit, and was not
very loyal...but it suited her career. Who wanted a devoted
prostitute? Eyla went where the coin bidded. She was easily
persuaded with pretty trinkets, flirtatious compliments...so
what did people expect? She gazed affectionately into Gawain’s
pretty green eyes, but she did not care about his wellbeing.
If he were to die tomorrow, she would not shed a tear. Infact,
she’d be disappointed...because he was handsome. And stubborn.
He started to move away, and Eyla’s smile widened. It teased
open her lips...

Gawain
 
"Please.. don't..that..that tickles.."


“Oh, it should do alot more than just tickle you...” Eyla
purred at him. The knight moved away from her, and Eyla
laughed gently. Was this a game then? Did he reject her? Was
he frightened of her? Eyla was not so frightening, and she was
relentless in her pursuits. Gawain had peaked her interests,
and he’d have to do alot more than just say ‘no.’ So, her
fondling tickled him? Good. She quite fancied him squirming
under her talented fingers...but she’d tickle him in more
interesting places than his stomach...

Gawain
 
"Its..been quite..awhile since I've lain with a woman,
lady. But when I was with one, I prefer her on her
back."


Eyla watched the knight, watched him seek composure. He seemed
nervous, almost unsure, and Eyla felt a moment of pity. It was
brief, almost non-existant. It wasted her time. Did he seek a
teacher in pleasure? And would he pay her well? Eyla’s dark
brows lifted in amusement, and her eyes twinkled underneath
thick lashes. He prefered women on their backs, and yet Eyla
quite fancied being forced onto all-fours. It was more
exciting, more memorable. She sought animalistic lust from the
Sarmatian knights, not romantic courting and dignified manner.
Eyla placed her hands upon her hips, and pouted over at him.

“You are playing hard to get, Knight.” Her voice was spun like
honey, but there was a demanding tone. She lifted her chin to
the man, and felt several dark curls fall into her bosoms. She
looked impressive, petulant but beautiful. Her dark eyes were
sultry in the dim light of the stable, and she smirked over at
him. “Let me tell you something about me, sweetheart. And
listen carefully.” Eyla lifted a finger, and pointed it at
him. She giggled playfully, and stepped towards him again. “My
name is Eyla Attriabes, and I am the best and most beautiful
woman in this fortress. I am also a whore, prostitute,
wench...call me what you will, because it does not trouble me.
Now, a sensible man would have my skirts up around my ears by
now...so...” She paused, pouting. “Come over here, throw me
against a wall...and make me whimper your name until I can’t
speak for screaming...”

Eyla dropped her finger, and grinned over at him. Her smile
was mischievous, aroused...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Tue Nov 18, 2008 3:13 pm
Mirtha


Karl
 
"Why the hell would I tell you my problems? I ain't got
no problems and if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't talk
to you about 'em. And I sure don't give a fuck about
yours,"


Mirtha smiled widely at this. He liked that kind of people...
They were saying what they felt and thought, without any
fucking problems. Mirtha was that kind of man himself.

When Karl stood up, Mirtha looked around, there were some
people around. Maybe it was not the best thing to drink in
front of everybody, but in fact, stablemaster didn't care
right now. He had to many problems and thoughts already...
What else worst could happen to him anyway?

Karl
 
"Now that we've got that settled, go get the good shit
and let's have ourselves a little drink. eh? I've got
another flask in my saddle bag."


Mirtha nodded only and went to the stable where his horse
stayed. He felt a little guilty that he had not taken Tei for
a ride for so long! He patted horses side and went to look in
his eyes, smiling slightly. Horses always were the only ones
who Mirtha gave his love and passion. He could not live
without them... That was the truth.

"Sorry, my friend. I'll take you out soon..." he whispered and
soothed Tei, when he moved his head in impatient matter.

Mirtha turned around and got one bottle from his secret place.
The last one.

"Fuck..." he murmured under his nose. He will have to get some
more...

He returned to Karl and showed him the bottle. He took a sip
of it before geting himself comfortable on the stable
floor.... in place, which wasn't seen from the entrence
dierectly and metioned to Karl to grab the bottle from him.

"Drink..." he only murmured.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Tue Nov 18, 2008 4:06 pm
Guinevere


Guinevere walked slowly, carefully, easing her footfall into
the quietest places. The Woad princess had travelled these
paths before, and she knew the safest passages through the
woodlands of Briton. Her lithe form was crouched low in the
undergrowth, and she held tight to her dagger. It was a small
thing, bone, but chiselled into a sharp point, and it would be
enough to cut one man’s throat...but no more than that. Gods,
they were unprepared! There were enough Woads here to hold off
a small Roman or Sarmatian party, but more than that? An army
perhaps? Guinevere swallowed roughly at the thought. Her dark
eyes were liquid black in the shadowed forest, and she blinked
lazily ahead. Watching, waiting. A light breeze caught at her
dark hair, shaking the bonds of her loose plait, but she paid
it no heed. Her lips parted against the British wind, and she
breathed it in. Deeply, drawing strength from it. There was
movement ahead, she was sure of it. The familiar snap of
twigs, and the slow but heavy footfall of horses. How many?
Guinevere frowned darkly, and looked to Nolan over her
shoulder. It could be animals. It could be...anything, and yet
Guinevere’s jaw hardened at the prospect of meeting the enemy.

They would take no chances.

Guinevere took several more steps, and then turned sharply.
Tristan. Beside her, and without any prior warning. Her black
eyes alighted upon the form of the Sarmatian Scout, and
Guinevere stopped. She met his gaze bravely, confidently, and
rose slowly to her full height. How did he move so silently?
So quickly? Guinevere frowned at the man, annoyed. She
expelled a deep breath, a relieved one, and gestured for Nolan
to stop beside her. Tristan would not attack them, surely? Not
without the order of another, and certainly not an unarmed
Woad woman? Guinevere smiled bitterly at the Sarmatian,
loosening her grip on her dagger, and moving it away from
sight.

Tristan
 
”Peace.”


Guinevere nodded brusquely at Tristan, and braved a glance
behind him. Oh, he was not alone. The famously intelligent
Optio was his companion, the man incapable of negotiation or
courage. The Woad Princess wrinkled her nose. Coward. Why had
he bothered to show his face? They had witnessed his fear, his
weakness, and complete lack of understanding. Three Romans
accompanied him, Jols, Bors....and Arthur. Arthur? Guinevere’s
lips tightened into a thin line. Guinevere watched Arthur
approach on Tristan’s side, and she recognised that slight
smile of familiarity, of friendship? Guinevere was not so
sure. She felt Nolan step closer to her, but paid him no heed.
Arthur would not kill any of them without reason...and
Guinevere would give him no reason. Oh, she was not
frightened. Fear rarely touched Guinevere’s emotions, but she
was wary of the Commander. She understood Arthur’s cause, and
knew him to be merciful. He was annoyingly dignified for a
Roman. But what did he want? To avenge the deaths from the
fortress attack...or to heal the insult of the Optio?

Arthur
 
“Guinevere, I seek a peaceful meeting with your
father….and I mean you no harm here,”


Nolan
 
"Leave here now, while you still have the chance, Roman,
Merlin wants nothing more to do with you."


Guinevere heard Nolan’s threat, but her expression did not
change. Her dark eyes were levelled with Arthur’s intense
gaze, and she watched him cautiously. Arthur was impressively
calm, rational, peaceful and the Woad did not entirely trust
it. Here he was, attired in his red cloak and atop Casti.
Roman. The Woad Princess remembered riding in that saddle with
him, pressed hard against his chest and...comfortable. It was
undeniable, Artorius Castus left an impression. His green eyes
were aflame with emerald ore, and his noble features commanded
respect. Such a Roman, and yet...there was something British
there. Guinevere lifted her chin defiantly, and smiled coldly
at the Roman. She knew she’d set the signal fire for the Woads
to attack, she knew she’d injured his people...and yet she
showed no guilt. Arthur knew her better than that.
The woman watched Arthur dismount, and she eyed him
cautiously. So unpredictable, so noble. It made it difficult
to simply attack and kill. Arthur walked slowly in her
direction, and her chin remained high in defiance. She met his
green eyes with her black gaze, and did not move. No, she did
not step away, nor cower, nor appear frightened. Her jaw was
hardened, and she merely looked back at him. The woman was
small, yes...but vulnerable? No. She could be quicker, more
malicious, than any man here...if she chose.

Arthur
 
“Surely you are not lost, lady,”


Nolan
 
"Let's be done and kill them now, princess."


“That would be barbaric Nolan. And we are not
savages...despite what they might think.” Guinevere answered
coolly, loudly, but her eyes did not leave Arthur’s face. She
gazed back at him, and a small smile played upon her mouth.
Her dark hair was loosening from its bonds, falling down her
toned back and shoulders. She brought her dagger back into
sight, and placed it firmly back into its sheath. If Arthur
came in peace, than Guinevere trusted his words. Her brethren
outnumbered them easily, and should they decide to attack? It
would be Roman deaths, not British. The woman looked at
Arthur, and tipped her head to the side. There was a playful
element to her actions, but her expression was cold and
bitter. She respected him, she trusted the Roman...but their
causes were not one and the same. They were enemies. She spoke
softly, but there was strength there, undeniable defiance. “I
would believe you are lost, Arthur. You are a long way from
home hmm? Missing me already, I assume? Or merely seeking to
heal the Optio’s insult?”

Guinevere’s eyes were dark, intense, and she arched an eyebrow
at the Roman. She stepped closer to Arthur. Her small form was
dwarfed by him, and she lifted her chin higher. She spoke
again, close to his ear, quietly. “We have dead to attend to.
Are you sure you are willing to suffer Merlin’s anger?”

The Roman was close, and she could smell him. Leather, musk,
horses. It reminded her of Badon.









Ceinwyn

Ceinwyn watched Guinevere move ahead, and immeditely ducked
out of sight. She saw Smith’s movements, his attempt at a
distraction, and the Woad woman nodded to herself. It was a
good plan, and would provide Guinevere with adequate cover
until they found their enemy. Ceinwyn crouched down in the
undergrowth, and continued to move forwards towards the
noises, the strange movement. Would the Romans be foolish
enough to return? Ceinwyn hoped so, she had not seen enough
bloodshed in the last few days to sate her hatred. The woman’s
eyes flashed green as she saw the Sarmatian scout enter the
path, and the word ‘Peace’ galled her greatly. What peace?
They were enemies, and should not dwell over formalities or
fear! Guinevere knew Arthur, and Ceinwyn gritted her teeth.
Ceinwyn and the Woad Princess had spoken in the dungeons of
Badon Hill, and revealed treachery that was punishable by
death. Ceinwyn herself had spat insults at Arthur, and he had
reacted. Guinevere it seemed, was the only source of Arthur’s
goodwill...and that suited Ceinwyn fine. She moved closer to
the surrounding party, and stopped beside the horses. She
looked up to the Optio through the foliage, her green eyes
darkened by vehemence. This was the coward, no? Roman scum.

A bitter and cold smile twisted Ceinwyn’s lips, and she
remained hidden from sight. If the Optio should fall from his
horse, Ceinwyn would be the first to slice his pretty Roman
throat...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Nov 18, 2008 7:17 pm

Brendyn


Arthur
 
“Are they close? How many are their numbers? Men, be on
your guard…remain in tight formation. We will continue
on along the path. It seems that Neeria had been of some
use after all.”


Tristan
 
"Some,"


Brendyn reined Tyranus in a bit more keeping in formation with
the rest of the group, his eyes studying the tree branches,
and moving over the brush. From what he had heard, woads hid
almost anywhere and were very good at it. They were famous for
sneak attacks as well, or at least Antonius had told him some
time back. At one point, Titrus's horse snorted, and it made
Brendyn jump a bit, but he smiled slightly, and went back to
keeping a close eye on his surroundings. Under him, he could
feel Tyrnaus shift anxiously, and let out a soft nicker. He
had no doubt that they were being watched even as they had
entered the forest... and even now. Up ahead of the group, he
could see Arthur and Amadeus, and here and there were what
were deserted huts. The one to watch, and Brendyn did so with
a bit of admiration, was Tristan as the scout seemed so in
tune with what was going on about the group that they couldn't
see. There also seemed to be a close understanding between
Tristan and Arthur to the point where all the Scout had to do
was act out hand signals and the Commander understood. As
Tristan seemed to indicate that they might be surrounded,
Brendyn turned slowly in his saddle to look about him, before
moving his eyes back to the scene ahead.

He could not recall a closeness like that between Antonius and
his men. Oh, he was close when training or dealing out
punishment, but other than that...

The group rode a bit further when suddenly, Tristan raised his
hand for the group to stop, and Arthur pulled his horse up
next to the Scout's. Two woads appeared in front of the group,
and Brendyn could only marvel at how silently they had
approached. One was the most unearthly looking woman he had
ever laid his eyes on, and the other was a well built young
man. When Brendyn saw the Commander's hand move from his
sword, the young soldier did the same. He had said that this
was a mission of peace, and Brendyn did not want to make any
foolish moves. He had laid his hand on the hilt of his sword
just in case, but then slowly removed both hands to lay
resting on his saddle horn. It was a relaxed easy manner, but
he could move swiftly if he had to. For a moment, he found it
hard to keep himself from staring at the lovely woad...

Tristan
 
"Peace,"


Arthur
 
“Guinevere, I seek a peaceful meeting with your
father….and I mean you no harm here, Surely you are not
lost, lady,”


Nolan
 
"Leave here now, while you still have the chance, Roman,
Merlin wants nothing more to do with you. Let's be done
and kill them now, princess."


Guinevere
 
“That would be barbaric Nolan. And we are not
savages...despite what they might think. I would believe
you are lost, Arthur. You are a long way from home hmm?
Missing me already, I assume? Or merely seeking to heal
the Optio’s insult?”


Guinevere? So this wise yet striking young woman was
Guinevere... He cut the thought short knowing that this was
not the time for admiring women. He kept the thought
from his mind as it was not the time to be foolish. She looked
wise and intelligent and had an intelligence about her that
Brendyn admired. It was obvious from the way the two had
approached each other that they had spoken before. Watching
Arthur dismount and moving to stand in front of his horse,
Brendyn took the moment to look briefly from Quintus, to Jols
and Titrus, then to Bors, who, until now, had been silent.
Brendyn raised an eyebrow at the insolent young woad who spat
on the ground, gazing at Arthur with what Brendyn could only
guess was hate. Kill them? without giving a chance to come in
peace? As he turned his attention back to Guinevere, he heard
two words : the Optio's insult. In his mind, the young soldier
recalled Malcus saying something about the "fucked up mission"
that had happened yesterday. His eyes flashed to the Optio to
see what the man's reaction would be.

This was going to be interesting indeed.

Brendyn was so intent though that when Titrus spoke to those
around him, it startled him a bit...

Titrus
 
"Stick close to me Quintus, everything'll be fine, Keep
close to me, Brendyn and keep your ears and eyes open.
We're supposed to be on a peace mission so don't go
brandishing any weapons unless Commander Castus orders
us to. Stay focused on the Commander - he will order us
what to do. Bors! How many do you think there are?
Sounds like the horse is behind us!"


Brendyn gave the Lieutenant a rather odd look. Me? Brandish a
weapon and ruin the talks? What an odd notion... Did Titrus
mistrust him that much? Brendyn only slowly nodded a reply. In
all honesty, he was scared a bit knowing that at anytime,
things could just go wrong, but he buried his anxiety and
remained in control of his emotions. They could not blow this
a second time. A horse behind us? The young soldier turned
again in his saddle as he turned in the direction Titrus had
turned. The bushes about the group seemed to be moving. He
shivered inwardly with the notion that there could be woads
even closer to the group than any of them cared to know.
Slowly, Brendyn turned his eyes back toward the unfolding
talks between Arthur and Guinevere and wondered what would
happen next...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Tue Nov 18, 2008 8:50 pm
Karl


Karl heard other voices in the stables but he couldn't be
bothered. He had one thing and one thing only on his mind and
that was getting pissy drunk. He was glad he'd stumbled onto
Mirtha because as a rule, Karl didn't like to drink alone. He
even liked the stablemaster. Sort of, anyway. Mirtha knew how
to drink and how to keep his mouth shut which is the way Karl
liked it.

The Roman reached in his saddle bag and pulled out another
full flask of wine, some jerky and smiled. He patted Brutus on
the the rump and rejoined Mirtha in a quiet, private place,
away from peering, nosy eyes.

The stablemaster had a large bottle and held it a few inches
from Karl's face, staring at it lovingly.

"Oh...yeah..." Karl growled and licked his lips.

He kicked together a mound of hay and dropped his heavy frame
down with a plop. Mirtha took a big sip from the bottle then
got comfortable on the stable floor next to Karl.

The Roman pulled out the bag of nuts from his purse and tossed
them to Mirtha. He also pulled out a package of jerky, removed
a piece with his teeth and then tossed the package to Mirtha
as well.

"Can't drink on a empty stomach now kin we?" he chortled.

Mirtha
 
"Drink..."


"Don't mind if I do," Karl said as he reached over and took
the bottle from Mirtha.

Karl pulled hard on the bottle. He pursed his lips as the warm
liquid ignited in his mouth and slid down his throat, leaving
a fire trail as it went, warming up his insides.

"Whoa!" Karl said, his eyes wide and tongue hanging out.

"That's some good stuff!" Karl licked his lips and grinned
widely, "You're alright with me, Mirtha," he said happily and
took another sip before handing it back to his brand new
friend.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Tue Nov 18, 2008 9:23 pm
Jols


With Gypsi next to Quintus' mount, he edged his horse just a
bit closer to the Centurian's horse, Jols then transferred the
reins to one hand, in a not too loose or too tight grip and
let the hand holding the reins rest next to the saddle on his
horse's shoulder.

Looking around, he glanced at the scenery, watching everything
that went on as the Commander had dismounted from Casti and
was talking to Guinevere.

Patting Gypsi with his free hand, he waited calmly to see what
would happen next as he trusted everyone in the peace party
except for Scipio, but he'd never let onto that fact at all.

Since from what he heard or could gather from both Scout and
Barbattus, it was Scipio's fault that the whole thing went
south to begin with.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Eledhwen
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 4:59 am

Bors


Even Bors could feel the tension in the atmosphere as they
slowly drew up a short distance behind Arthur. The very air of
the forest seemed to be holding its breath, and Bors grunted
softly to himself as he stilled his fidgety steed.

The Romans seemed on edge, and Bors couldn't help but smirk to
himself. Not used to getting their lily-white hands dirty,
they're prob'ly shittin' 'emselves...

Glancing at Quintus, seeing the palor in his complexion, then
down at his hands to see if they were shaking, Bors drew
closer. Not that he would grieve if the whole poncey lot of
them dropped down dead at the end of a Woad arrow, but it
would be a bloody mess to have to clear up, so he would do his
best to protect them if it came to it.

Titrus
 
"Stick close to me Quintus, everything'll be fine, Keep
close to me, Brendyn and keep your ears and eyes open.
We're supposed to be on a peace mission so don't go
brandishing any weapons unless Commander Castus orders
us to. Stay focused on the Commander - he will order us
what to do. Bors! How many do you think there are?
Sounds like the horse is behind us!"


"Mmm..." Bors grumbled deep in his throat, and raised his head
to sniff the air. "More than they're letting on anyway. I can
smell 'em."

He glanced at Brendyn - Nice lad... bit quiet... be
interesting to see how he held up in a fight - then looked up
ahead and squinted to better see the skinny Woad bint.

"Shame she's not naked eh mate?" he grinned at Titrus without
humour. "Give us sumfink to look at at least while we wait.
We'll be 'ere for bloody hours while they piss about round
each uvva. And it's all a load of crap anyway. If they've
decided they're gonna kill us nuffink Arfa says'll make any
difference."

He had great faith in his commander's abilty to talk himself
out of a situation, but he believed more in the abilty of the
blue demons to be sadistic bastards, so he didn't really hold
out much hope for this 'peaceful' mission. Like Brendyn, he
slumped in his saddle as though at rest, but the slightest
movement from the trees would have his sword in his hand
before anyone could breathe.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 6:34 am
Amadeus


Amadeus was never good with tracking or scouting. It was
hardly a skill befitting a noble Roman. Not when there were
trackers and scouts to be employed, the best of the best.
Amadeus was good at being noble, he was good at being
deceitful too - so that when he rode through the forest with a
scout who had proven his worth he did not feel the need to pay
much attention to their surrounds.

It was rather disconcerting then for the man to be thrown into
a situation that the others had felt and sense mounting but he
had been ignorant too. Oh of couse he did not let that
ignorance or surprise show on his handsome face! By God no !
The Optio remained impassive, a sharp frown marring his brow
as Tristan announced the presence of woads and Arthur moved
on. Amadeus kept close to him, his gloved fingers tight abotu
the leather reins of his horse. When they rounded a tree and
he spotted Tristan he felt the moisture leave his throat and
turn to acid in his gut.

A woman! A woman stood at the fore and Arthur slowed. Amadeus
glanced at the Commander and found himself baffled by the look
of familiarity on his face, glinting in his green eyes. What
was tihs? Who was this?!

Arthur
 
“Guinevere, I seek a peaceful meeting with your
father….and I mean you no harm here, Surely you are not
lost, lady,”


Traitorous!! Shameful familiarity with the enemy!
Amadeus knew in an instant why it was that he would never have
been able to negotiate this peace with Merlin - because he was
not willing to lower himself to such a level as to be familiar
with the beasts of Britains wilds! The grey-eyed male sat
stiff in his saddle, looking fierce but not threatening as he
looked over at the woman Arthur had called 'Guinevere'. If his
memory served him fair then this was Merlin's daughter that
Arthur was so damn familiar with. Merlin's daughter!! God...

The Commander dismounted and Amadeus bit his tongue,
literally, to prevent himself from issuing any warning to the
man. Was he seeking a fight? Was he deliberately provoking
these people,making it easy for them to attack so that the
Romans might have a worthy cause to retaliate?

Nolan
 
"Leave here now, while you still have the chance, Roman,
Merlin wants nothing more to do with you."


Guinevere
 
“That would be barbaric Nolan. And we are not
savages...despite what they might think. I would believe
you are lost, Arthur. You are a long way from home hmm?
Missing me already, I assume? Or merely seeking to heal
the Optio’s insult? We have dead to attend to. Are you
sure you are willing to suffer Merlin’s anger?”


Amadeus had not heard what it was that the man had said to the
blue whore - only heard her loud and pointed opinion about
them not being barbarians. Amadeus glowered at that and tensed
his jaw, looking to the side as she then spoke familiarily
with Arthur. Oh he listened with an attentive ear for this was
just the information that he would need to bring Arthur down -
consortin with the enemy, broking deals that weakened Rome's
influence... It was no wonder that these demons had never been
tamed if this was the stance that was taken with them.

The lilting voice that she used, her tone caustic and taunting
brought Amadeus' focus back to her. And juts in time to meet
her eyes as she spoke of his 'insult'.

Amadeus lifted his chin arrogantly and rolled his tongue
against the back of his teeth, watching her with a threatening
gaze. He felt ridiculed by her statement though it was not
overtly insulting to him. But she implied that he needed to
bring Arthur out to make Merlin apologise to him?

That insult was cutting.

Amadeus' tight muscles affected his horse and the grey horse
shifted uncomfortably. Amadues breathed a sharp warning down
to the horse and it quietened, but looked about as tense as
his master, nostrils flared and eyes rolling skywards.

Another horse had come up behind them and Amadues turned to
look sharply at a mounted woad. Oh what a novelty!

He snapped his attention back to Guinevere and allowed Arthur
to deal with the wretch for he knew that his methods to teach
the whore a lesson would be better suited to a locked bedroom
than an open forest. How he would love to quench the defiance
in her dark eyes! How he would love to reduce her to an
insulted, used, shell of a woman! How he would love to put her
firmly in her rightful place as nothing but a receptacle for a
man's carnal needs.

To have her stand and speak on behalf of her people was a
joke, it was an insult to the Roman patriarchal hierarchy.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 7:55 am
Tristan


Arthur
 
“Guinevere, I seek a peaceful meeting with your
father…and I mean you no harm here. Surely you are not
lost, lady.”


Nolan
 
"Leave here now, while you still have the chance, Roman.
Merlin wants nothing more to do with you. Let's be done
and kill them now, princess."


Guinevere
 
“That would be barbaric, Nolan. And we are not
savages...despite what they might think. I would believe
you are lost, Arthur. You are a long way from home, hmm?
Missing me already, I assume? Or merely seeking to heal
the Optio’s insult?


Nolan...Tristan stored away the name of Merlin's lieutenant in
his mind for future reference, but then felt a stab of
exasperation as Guinevere continued talking, now making sultry
comments about Arthur missing her, now coming up close to him
to whisper in his ear, while he stood there stoically, taking
it. Arthur, standing solid as an armor-encased rock, was
resistant to such blandishments...but not all men were, and
this was exactly, precisely, why to Tristan's mind women had
no place in negotiations like this. This should be a matter
for men to settle, one way or another and if it could be
settled; Guinevere had no business prancing distractingly
about like that. Naked or not- Tristan's keen ears had caught
Bors' soft, joking comment, though his horse stood a little
way away from the rest of the group, even with the Optio's,
but a good way to the side.

The scout favored Guinevere with a glare as she whispered in
the Commander's ear, irritated that he was no longer able to
make out her words. Well, at least she didn't seem to want to
kill them, yet, unlike the other fellow. That was something.
There was a creak behind them, a few more horsey noises, and
Tristan, sensing the approach of the Woad rider behind them,
turned, just like several of the other men, to look.

The man was there, all right- dark-haired, rather
cocky-looking, and very well-armed- Tristan spotted the hilts
of at least three swords on his person and saddle. He met the
rider's eyes for a long moment, letting him know in no
uncertain terms that he was watched, and known...but then
Tristan turned back, to all appearances refocusing his
attention to the front. The rider was a distraction. He had to
be taken into account, yes, but he was clearly letting himself
be seen, and it was important not to focus too much on him,
not to forget that they were surrounded by others on foot as
well. It was the positions of those that Tristan was now
focused on identifying, even as he appeared to be merely
listening for Arthur's reply to Guinevere. There was one off
to his right, in the bush very near the Optio, that much
Tristan thought he had established- but the others eluded him.
He just knew they were there.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 4:42 pm
Mari


Linnette
 
"Oh, mine? I... I did something silly. It was my own
fault. Nothing quite as heroic as yours, It sounds like
you were very brave,"


Mari was a great reader of people. Not an accurate one - but
she did watch people very closely, she did notice the shrug
but it did not quite translate to her as sheepish. She gave an
encouraging smile as Linnette took a sip of wine and followed
her movements likewise. The wine really was delicious and Mari
was frowning down appreciatively into the cup, sucking her
upper lip as Linnette made her explanation. The young woman
looked up at the auburn-haired woman with her eyebrows raised
and gave a simpering smile of acknowledgement, not for one
moment thinking that there was some clandestine reason behind
why Linnette vaguely referred to the origins of her wounded
hand.

Why would Mari think of such a thing? It was entirely out of
her depth to think that people would keep secrets! She herself
was useless at keeping secrets. The only one she would keep
was ... was... well, it was not worth recalling to mind right
now, not when she was beginning to feel safe and human and
wanted.

The young woman started to eat her food in earnest, politely,
never taking more than she saw Linnette take from her own
plate and in so doing she learned a little. She learned a
little of etiquette - and waht better tutor than Linnette?
It was over the clatter of voices that she continued to munch
her lunch, glancing towards the women in question and watching
with wide, wary eyes around Linnette. Mari carried on chewing
her food, watching with a youth's interest at the fracas, but
feeling secure

Linnette
 
"Hmm. What did you think of that woman's hair?"


Mari almost choked on the piece of bread she was eating at
Linnette's question. Her eyes were huge as she looked after
the cropped haired woman, knowing that that must be who she
was speaking about, and with her earlier presumption that the
woman had been in an accident to have had her hair chopped so-
Mari felt... awkward.

"Well... well I think it's uhm..." her worried voice was too
high-pitched to be natural and true. Her head whipped around
to watch the woman as she left the tavern and she looked back
at Linnette with an embarrassed flush to her cheeks. She
blinked far too quickly. Her shoulders sagged and she fidgeted
with her knife.

"Well I think it's quite unique. It's very ... ahm... " she
bit her bottom lip and looked up to the rafters to think of a
polite way of saying that she didn't really like it but
without insulting the poor unfortunate girl.

"It's very unique." Mari said again, with a stiff nod of her
head and pleased smile. "It certainly makes her stand out in a
group. You would not be inclined to think she was like any
other woman..."







Saoirse

It was unspeakable, the hurt relief that surged through
Saoirse to feel Dagonet take her in his arms so assuredly. She
fought tears! Tears of relief, tears of love and adoration,
tears of sympathy and mourning and apology to Dagonet as he
held her, crushing her to his broad chest. She was filled with
the sense of him, the warmth and solidity of him, the smell
emanating from his body mixed with the worn clothing upon his
form, and the sure and certain aura that was strength. Dagonet
was strength. The world and all it's demons would throw
obstacles in his way to prevent his happiness but he was
strength and he was able to push past it. She would stand by
him in that struggle for happiness. She would struggle with
him.

His hands upon her cheeks forced her face back. The red head
did not fight his insistence and tilted her head back to look
up at him. Not for the first time she cursed his height that
made him tower above her rather shorter stature.

Dagonet
 
"Saoirse... I didn't know.... I feel guilty for being
alive in stead of.... Love... You shouldn't.... you
shouldn't feel bad over this... It's not your fault. You
have no influance.... I am here and he is.. not. I love
you... I will grieve my son but I won't grieve for me
being alive... "


She was nodding her head at his words, more to stop those
threatening tears from spilling over onto his unshaven cheeks
than to actually agree with what he said. Her own blue eyes
shimmered with unshed tears and she clutched to the front of
his tunic without realising that she did so, as if to keep him
with her in the here and now, to keep him away from the hands
of the gods who would take him from her.

When he faltered on Gedeon's name Saoirse mouthed it - she
dare not even whisper the name, but her lips formed the name
of his dead son and she shivered, nodding her head at him,
encouraging him to speak that which he could not whilst
surrounded by those in the infirmary.

"I love ye too. An' I grieve fer him too, love, I swear I do.
I just can't help feelin' relieved tha' ... tha' ... I'm just
so glad ye came back t'me." she admitted in a rushed whisper,
tilting forwad to rest her forehead against his ever solid
chest, still clutching two sturdy fistfuls of his tunic. The
Irish woman gave a shuddering sigh and the tension seemed to
ease from her body.

Sniffing, Saoirse turned her head to the side and once more
rested her cheek against her knight's chest, arms wrapped
tight about his body, palms spread flat to his strong back,
her eyes shut.

"D'ye feel up t'this bath then?" she murmured after a while,
her voice sounding sleepy. She had not moved from her tight
embrace of him either - but remained stood in front of him,
tightly ensconced in his embrace.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 5:01 pm
Lancelot


Lancelot continued to meet Darya's gaze, despite the strange
feeling that always came with lingering contact. Despite
Arthur. Perhaps because of Arthur.

Darya
 
“Thank you…And take a bath…or I’ll call you to your duty
to watch over me and spend the rest of the day in the
bath-house…until you look presentable again…”


He didn't jerk away when she touched him; rather, he gave a
deep sigh of acceptance annoyance? and merely bowed his head
to her. "My lady," he said in farewell. He smiled broadly at
the other woman - Tatisomething? and turned on his heel,
leaving his mixed feelings and anger at the situation Arthur
had put him in in regards to Darya buried - for now.

Striding away toward the knight's quarters, Lancelot felt an
evil humor well up in himself at the thought of waking the
Saxon soldier. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Derfel that
morning, and while he should be glad of it, he thought it odd
that Arthur's pet traitor to his own kind - Lancelot barked a
short laugh at that - wasn't out and about, nor had he seen
the riding party off. Strange, that.

He pushed his way through a group of legionaries, ignoring
their insults and calls of dog in Latin (he understood more
than they knew, the bastards), and, keeping up his pace, he
reentered his own 'home' building and walked quickly and with
features pulled unconsciously into a frown.

Arriving at the room that was assigned to the Saxon, Lancelot
drew the blade from his boot, hesitating briefly, imagining
sinking it into Derfel's arm - if only for fun and to see how
the other man reacted.

And then an image of the dagger buried in his own skin flashed
past his mind's eye, and he lingered on it - a bit too long.
No, Lancelot did not want to die -

not without taking some well deserved vengeance on Arthur
Castus first. And not without a lot of talking - especially
from Lancelot's side - and not without a lot of explanation.
He was bound and determined to see this through to the
end...whatever that might mean for him or for he and Arthur as
a unit.

I only know I cannot live this way for much longer - he has
taken my still beating heart and run away with it.

Gods damn him and me. I will have this out.

Raising the hand that held the dirk, Lancelot rapped sharply
with the hilt on the door of Derfel's room. "Awaken, my lovely
friend! Rise and answer the door - otherwise I shall be
sharing your living quarters with you - and not in a pleasant
way."

He shut his mouth after singsonging the greeting, and waited.

And waited some more.

Lancelot knocked again, this time sparing Derfel the sweetness
of his earlier tone. "Open up, knight - Arthur has orders for
you and you will obey them."

Nothing.

Lancelot turned to the side, sheathed his dirk, and was about
to put his shoulder to the door, when a passing page boy
hustled by him. Snaking out a hand, the Sarmatian grabbed the
boy by his collar and hauled him close to his face.

"Boy! Where is the knight that resides here? Derfel? The
giant, hulking blond that is even more of a dog than I?"

The boy, frightened more by Lancelot's stench and bruised face
than by his words, shook his head. "Nnnnnew home! By the
tavern! With his lady!" With that, the page wrenched himself
free from the First Knight's grip and wriggled down the hall,
swearing to himself to stay away from that building for the
rest of his term here.

Lancelot coughed, and shivered once as the chill that pervaded
everything in this place settled in his bones. Of
bloody-fucking 'course.

Swearing, he turned his back on the luckily unsplintered door,
and hitching up his loose leathers one more time while no one
could see the undignified manner in which he did it, he made
his way back to the damnable courtyard and on the way to the
correct place.

Arthur - are you trying to make me look the fool?

Lancelot knew, even as he walked along through the denizens of
the fort, that Arthur probably hadn't known that Derfel had
moved his rooms either.

But it was nice to blame someone else for his lack of
information for once.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 5:02 pm
Galahad


Tayala
 
"No, I don't know, but then again I didn't know that
Sarmatians were a breed all to themselves. I happen to
have a little bit of Sarmatian mixed with British in my
background. My Aunt, Tatiana, she works here too, and
she's the same mix as me and she's cleaned out stalls
that belong to both Sarmatian and Roman horses alike.
She didn't tell me or inform me that Sarmatians take
care of their own horses and to leave them alone to let
you Sarmatians do it. Anyway, I didn't see a sign
anywhere on the stall that said 'Property of a Sarmatian
Warrior, Don't Touch' In my eyes, a horse is a horse is
a horse is a horse, regardless of who rides them,
Sarmatian or Roman."


Galahad's eyes were beginning to sag shut as she spoke about
her aunt. Her claim to have Sarmatian blood had been met with
the briefest of disbelieving snorts. Well, perhaps not
disbelieving, but it was dismissive nonetheless. The
Sarmatians were not exactly known in Britain for their
chastity. Of course there were some bastards running about the
place that didn't simply belong to Bors. Other knights had
fathered illegitimate children through the ages. This chatty
whelp was just one of many. And her aunt.

Who the hell was her aunt anyways? Tatiana?

Perhaps he should have been surprised that she didn't know
anything of Sarmatians. Perhaps he should have been amused or
relieved that she did not hold the Romans in any higher regard
than Romans. But all he was aware of was a sickening feeling
that this little child was going to have a few hard lessons to
learn if she thought it safe not only to proclaim her
Sarmatian blood but also to so openly declare her ignorance of
the divide between Romans and Sarmatians.

Someone aughta take her in hand and ....

By the end of her angry tirade the Sarmatian had actually
dozed off asleep. He woke himself up rather abruptly when his
foot slid off his knee and bopped to the ground. He gave an
ungraceful snort and shot up like a bolt on his make-shift
seat. He looked down at his boot on teh ground and his sock on
the wall behind him before looking over at the girl and
suddenly recalled she had been talking.

"Take a breath would you?" he sniped at her grumpily, leaning
forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his
hands. The broad expanse of his shoulders was bared as the
tunic he wore pulled tight over the muscles there. Galahad
shook his head, the tangled curls brushing against the backs
of his hand and then tossed his head backwards to fix the girl
with a steely blue gaze.

"Careful how you flap your tongue hm?" he pointed a
dirty-nailed finger at the girl, "If you live within these
walls and are not claiming for the Romans then it makes you
the enemy. Look at me and my brothers eh?" he said with biting
sarcastic humour as he sat back, gesturing to his chest and
then outwards, indicating the general fortress. "Hardly
warriors - " he grumbled now, looking away from her sullenly,
"Slaves."
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golden_trillium

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Author: Starbelle
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 6:44 pm

Tayala


Galahad
 
"Careful how you flap your tongue hm?" "If you live
within these walls and are not claiming for the Romans
then it makes you the enemy. Look at me and my brothers
eh?" "Hardly warriors - " "Slaves."


"Why?" Tayala asked curiously. "I suppose that that makes me
the enemy, then hmm. I still think that you're a warrior, no
matter what anyone says, and you're the second Sarmatian that
I've met. The first one being Jols. That's quite very sad, as
you really shouldn't think of yourself in those terms or in
that way as I don't." She said crossing her arms in front of
herself, stubbornly.

While she'd been talking to him, she noticed that he'd fallen
asleep during her chat with him, even if it was a one-sided
conversation. Feeling more than slightly miffed and upset that
someone would dare to do such a thing to her while she
chatted, as even her friends didn't do that to her she paused
slightly and after closing her mouth, walked up to the stall's
opening and reaching inside, shook his arm to awaken him.

"Hey, are you even listening to me? I don't think that that's
very nice or considerate for you to do that to me as I'm
trying to have a conversation with you." Tayala said sniffling
slightly as a very upset, hurt and petulant tone crept into
her voice at the thought of his going to sleep on her.
"People, who have manners, don't usually do that during
others' conversation.

"I'll have to introduce you to my Aunt Tatiana, then, so that
you know who she is as she's got the same mindset about you
Sarmatians that I do as I learned it from her."

Then glancing at his one bare foot with the odd-colored
toe. "Do you need to go to the infirmary to have them check it
out to make sure that its ok?" Tayala queried concerned at the
color. Hearing the sounds of the other horses and animals
making their own sounds inside of the stable, as they talked
with each other.
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golden_trillium

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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 8:58 pm
Neeria


Neeria sneezed again and dug viciously in her head. She swept
her dark, matted hair away from her eyes and continued to
watch life at Badon go on around her. Her side twinged a bit
and she touched it gently through her tunic. Whatever the
healer had put on it seemed to be working well. The pain had
subsided and the wound had even begun to itch - a good sign.
Apparently Neeve had gotten all of the nasty infection. For
that Neeria was grateful though she wasn't sure she should
tell the tall dark-haired Briton. Neeria stole a glance at the
other woman out the of the corner of her eye. Neeve looked
straight ahead, stretching her long legs, keeping up with
Vanora. Neeria's short little legs worked over time to stay
with the two other women.

They hadn't walked far when Vanora stopped in front of a small
dwelling made of what Neeria thought to be mud and stone. The
roof was made of thatch. There were clothes hanging over ropes
in the front next to a small area which could have been a
garden. The house wasn't much but there was something cooking
inside. The smell wafted out into the front of the house and
Neeria felt her stomach growl once again. The woad tipped her
head back and sniffed in the air, much like a wolf, seemingly
hypnotized by the smell of the food, whatever it was.

There were children playing to the side of the house and
Neeria recognized that they must have been brothers and
sisters. Perhaps some of them were Vanora's children, Neeria
thought, but surely not all of them.

Neeria looked at the small house realizing that she'd lived
most of her life in a tent or small hut. The woad turned and
looked at Neeve, her dark eyes flashing with the wonderment of
a child.

"Is this her home?" she asked softly, full of curiousity. "Do
all people here live in a place like this? Is this like your
home?"
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Wed Nov 19, 2008 9:06 pm
Vanora


Vanora had been watching Neeve's raport with her raven.... the
same raport Tristan had with his hawk.

When she was small, her father had often talked of immortals
who had special ways with animals and birds, and Vanora always
wished she had been blessed with that kind of gift.
Unfortunately, horses didn't like her, and she really had not
special ways with animals except for those "animals" that came
into the tavern to get drunk of find a wench. Off to her side,
Neeria had been quietly observing the surroundings as though
she had never seen such things before. Odd behaviour, but as
long as she was not causing trouble...

Neeve
 
“Thanks…really…”


"Really, it is not a problem, Neeve," Vanora returned a warm
smile to the healer. She had always liked Neeve for her
straight forward attitude and honest nature. The tavern
manager rarely saw Neeve as the healer was called on a lot to
help in the infirmary, so Vanora enjoyed those times when she
got to see her.

Neeria
 
"Is this her home?" "Do all people here live in a place
like this? Is this like your home?"


"Is this like our..." At first Vanora frowned, but then smiled
at the curious young woman. "No, dear, this is the house my
husband, myself and my children all live in. It is not fancy,
or huge, but it is where we live." Vanora did not want to come
out and say that Bors was her lover instead of her husband...
well he was her lover, but husband sounded better. Outside,
her children were playing some sort of game... all of her
darling little bastards. Like curious little rabbits, all of
the children stopped for a moment to see who their mother was
bringing home. Their mother only smiled at them and they went
back to playing. "And all of those are my darling children..."
Vanora pointed to the group proudly.

As they reached the small house, Vanora unlocked it and lifted
the latch. The door creaked as it opened, and Vanora stepped
inside, holding the door open for the other two. For there
being so many in one house, it was remarkably clean except for
a few clothes and toys lying about. "Sorry, the house is sort
of a mess," Vanora smiled slightly. With a small gesture, she
indicated four chairs near the hearth. "Please, take a seat,
and I'll see if I can find those clothes. Shouldn't take
long..."
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