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November 2008
Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,044 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Nov 23, 2008 6:10 pm

Brendyn


Bors
 
"You've got yerself a date, mate. But I warn you now, I
can always piss straight, drunk or not... It's holding
it that's the problem!"Know what I mean?"


Quintus
 
"Shhh!"


Titrus
 
"Quintus, that's enough. There's nothing wrong with
sharing humor in a tense moment like this. I can assure
you that the commander and the optio can handle what's
going on with the woads without any assistance from you.
It would be best for you to harness your feelings of
discomfort and to relax a little. Commander Castus will
let us know what we should do and when we should do it.
In the meantime, we know we are surrounded and are being
watched. That's all the information we need for now."


God above! Brendyn would have given real money to see Bors and
Titrus shut up. He had hoped that they would have listened to
the Centurion. He tried so hard to ignore what they were
saying, but it was becoming annoying. Antonius would have
never gone for such conversation on a diplomatic mission.
Brendyn was sure Titrus had not meant an insult of any sort
and was trying to remain in good spirits. Tyranus shifted his
weight a bit but remained at attention the way Brendyn had
trained him. Sometimes, the horse spooked, but not often. His
eyes moved to Quintus as he shot Bors a severe look, and was
glad that he was not on the receiving end of it. The last
thing he needed was to go back to the fort in disgrace for
doing something stupid on the mission... his first under the
Command of one of the finest Rome had to offer. What would
Arthur and the rest think of him if he messed up? Tyranus
nodded his head up and down and pawed at the earth under him,
then calmed again as Brendyn talked softly, almost a whisper,
to the horse in his native language while stroking the horse's
neck...

Bors
 
"That drink might be closer than you fink Titrus me old
mate, I 'ope you've got deep pockets, there's not a man
in that fort can drink me under the table."


Titrus
 
"My pockets have to be deep, if you know what I mean.."


It was then that Brendyn heard Titrus giggling! A frown passed
over his young face and prayed to God that the Lieutenant
would not get openly reprimanded for that. Just then, he saw
Amadeus's angry look as the Optio's gaze went to both Bors and
Titrus, and Brendyn cringed inwardly Holy God! Give me wisdom
and strength to make them proud of me on this mission, and
give Arthur and Merlin wisdom to bring about peace... Instead
of cringing further, he took the time to pray. Seemed as good
a time as any to do so.About that time, Guinevere's voice
broke his thoughts...

Guinevere
 
“Very well. You have the passage you seek, but it does
not come freely. We will escort you. Keep close. I would
not like to see anything terrible befall your men. Hold
your positions. Surrounded at all times.”


Titrus
 
"See, you didn't miss a thing." "Well. Here we go."


Befall the men? The young soldier adjusted himself in his
saddle, and took up his reins in a firm but gentle hand. He
took note that the hot headed woad next to Guinevere had
whispered something in her ear, and he wondered what they were
planning. A barbaque in their honor? He honestly wondered if
Titrus was asking for trouble or just being cocky, but he
chose to look forward awaiting Arthur's orders to ride. In all
of his battles and missions, he could not recall ever seeing a
more lovely enemy than Guinevere. Veronica was still embedded
in his thoughts, but every once in a while, he allowed himself
the pleasure of admiring the rest of God's handy work. The intimate closeness of the woad to the Commander sort of made Brendyn wonder, but perhaps there was a reason. It was not always a good thing to get that close to a known enemy, but perhaps this was some sort of test of trust between them. Was it good to build such trust with a known enemy? Maybe it was a check for hidden weapons? He, himself, kept a dagger in his boot for emergencies, and a sword at his side. Normally, he'd have brought along a lance as he was a Lanciarii, or skilled lancer, but he saw no need to bring it on a peaceful mission , so he had kept it behind in his quarters. Brendyn was feeling tense inside and a tingle went up his spine knowing that they were watched by both seen and unseen enemies...

Arthur
 
“I thank you for your kindness, lady,” "Men," “We shall
ride on to Merlin in escort. Show only courtesy and
reverence,” “Lady,” “I would consider it an honour if
you would ride with me,”


As Arthur turned to face the men, Brendyn met the man's eyes
with a neutral expression. He did not like the woads, but they
had come on this mission as peace makers, and to show any sign
of disrespect would be unheard of. So far, the woads, no
matter how angry, had shown restraint from attacking them.
Arthur, so far, had been everything Antonius had told him that
he was, and above all a good negotiator something Brendyn had
heard was the hardest part of being a Commander: knowing your
enemy so that in a negotiation both sides would come out
satisfied... or at least to a point. The way Arthur carried
himself, and had stayed calm in the face of unknown danger was
a good study for the young soldier. There were many things he
knew he had to learn before he'd even get to that stage of
calm and diplomacy. He wondered if he'd even be as good a
Commander years from now that Arthur was... Time would tell,
he supposed if he didn't die before then. When he offered to
let the strikingly lovely woad to ride with him, Brendyn
raised an eyebrow, but continued to watch for signs of riding
on to Merlin's camp. Where was it, and how far was it from
here? At one point, he and Quintus's eyes met, but very very
briefly. He still recalled the first day he and Quintus met
shortly after he had joined up with Arthur's men. The man was
no nonsense, and he had decided that he liked the man. Quintus
was someone he'd want to learn from, though he was sure Titrus
and the rest had things he could learn from as well...

Brendyn moved his eyes first to Guinevere, then to Amadeus and
Arthur as he waited for the signal to move ahead to the camp.









Vanora

She left the two women and went off to her clothing trunk
where she kept clothes, old and new alike and rummaged through
it finally finding a few items that she knew would fit Neeria.
She held up the dress, the tunic, and the old cloak that was
still in very nice condition. Smiling to herself, she grabbed
a set of her oldest daughter's boots and went out to where
Neeria and Neeve waited. She lay the clothing down and set the
boots on the floor before looking at Neeve then at Neeria,
"These are in good condition as are the doe skinned boots. The
dress is a heavy weave so it should keep you warm as will the
boots and the cloak." The dress was a lovely shade of dark
brown with a leather belt that went around the waist, and the
tunic went underneath so as to give the dress slightly flaired
sleeves.

"I hope these will do for you, dear, as I have not use for
them any more."
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Sun Nov 23, 2008 7:17 pm
Lancelot


Lancelot squinted as he yet again appeared in the courtyard;
by the gods, but Derfel had better be where the page boy said
he was. And again Lancelot wondered, if only briefly, just why
the Saxon hadn't appeared as of yet this morning...or rather,
afternoon. Thus, the squinting.

Wind swirled through the fortress and despite the watery sun,
the First Knight shuddered at the chill the breeze brought. He
loathed and detested being cold. Loathed it, with every fiber
of his being. And yet...he was always cold. Always cold,
always always chilled, no matter the weather or the condition
of his clothing.

Unless his burning hands are on me, and mine own his.

He spat a curse, and crossed the courtyard, approaching the
tavern again, even as the wind lifted and pushed his messy
dark hair out of his eyes. The bruised one smarted still;
perhaps he shouldn't have given back the nun's offered
poltice. But then Eyla had distracted him...whore...her
obviousness sickening once Lancelot paid attention to it, but
of course... and then Catherine. Gods above, but Lancelot was
fucking chilled to the bone and not one person had managed to
thaw it in forever. And ever and ever, Amen, as Arthur would
say, oh so piously.

Wake the damn traitor, and then to the baths. At least his
belly was full - although the sloshing from his angry walking
was beginning to make him feel a bit queasy.

After a few more pointedly asked questions of various workers
around the tavern area, Lancelot finally discovered what had
better be Derfel and apparently his lady's abode. Shaking his
head, Lancelot raised his booted foot and removed the dirk
again.

This time, the knock could have been heard across the Wall in
Woad country.

"Awake, Saxon! I have little time nor patience. Arthur has
orders for you!"

Lancelot rapped sharply again with the handle of the dirk, and
swore to himself he'd wait just a few seconds before having
the pleasure of getting to smash the door in. He'd only feel
badly for Derfel's woman...although he felt badly for her at
any rate.

The Sarmatian had to grudgingly admit that Derfel was handy
with a sword. And as far as he remembered, he and Dagonet's
son, Gedeon, had been a good pair on the field. Lancelot tried
to pay attention to who worked well together

Arthur and I

and who did not. Pity that the lad had had to die - if only
that Lancelot would spare his father the pain of loss.

And yet...Derfel's father had been the one to almost gut
Arthur when Lancelot hadn't been there to do his duty. That
tore at Lancelot like nothing he'd ever experienced...and
despite his truth, he lashed out at Derfel because he could.

Because that was easier than seeing Arthur bleeding dying in
front of him - when Lancelot had done nothing to stop it.

He bit his cheek, and knocked again with the dirk.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Mon Nov 24, 2008 12:38 pm
Darya


Tatiana
 
"So, that's what this called? Its pretty strong for a
newcomer, like me. Lancelot really likes this, stuff
huh? That's interesting. Maybe I'll order another one
before this one's done, then."


Pensively, Darya sipped some more of her tea but kept her dark
eyes on Tatiana. For someone who had never had any ale before,
she was holding up pretty well. However, the stable-hand’s
reaction to the fact that Lancelot loved ale once more added
to the female Sarmatian’s amusement. No doubt that if she told
Tatiana that the knight used to fight with twin-blades, she
would want to learn to do that as well or consider offering
cleaning the weapons for him if necessary. Not that he would
actually let her do that…but anyway…

“All the knights love their ale…”, the dark-haired then mused
with a wry smirk and tilted her head a little, “…but better
don’t drink too much of it. Trust me, you would regret it
later…” With that, she sniffed quietly and emptied her mug of
tea.

And if Tatiana had noticed, the girl actually did not only
indeed order another mug of ale for herself but also another
tea for Darya. “Thanks…”, the Sarmatian murmured and fed the
last piece of meat to Tristan’s hawk before once more clasping
the mug with both her hands, again welcoming the warmth.
Slowly, her thumbs traced along the mug’s rim while the woman
continued to listen to Tatiana’s further ideas and guesses
regarding Lancelot…

Tatiana
 
"Hmm..he does seem to have an unique personality. He
does seem like the loner type..almost as if..he'd much
rather be alone. I wonder..though..if I were to offer
him my friendship..what his reaction would be?"


“Every person is unique…”, Darya heard herself reply before
her mind even had had the chance to process all of Tatiana’s
words, “…and only Lancelot and his mood decide whose presence
he tolerates or not.” The dark-haired sighed and shifted a
little on her chair to straighten her back. Tatiana made her
think about the First Knight more than she liked, especially
since Darya herself had stopped trying to analyze her
kinsman’s behavior and character a while ago. Not that she had
given up on him…she still secretly processed every hint he
gave her as it was part of her education and part of her
nature. But those things the female Sarmatian kept to herself.

“Look…”, she then added and met Tatiana’s gaze directly,
“…don’t waste your time with Lancelot only. He is not the
center of the world, Tatiana. And trust me, you will find it
way easier to build a friendship with some of the other
knights than with him. With Derfel, for example…Gawain,
Galahad…or Bors. They are more approachable than Lancelot.
Start easy…and build, so to speak.” With that, she gave the
girl a wry smile and sipped some more tea. “Why don’t we
change the subject for now, hm? How’s things in the stables?
How do you get along with Mirtha and Jols?”

…and Darya silently prayed that her strategy would work…









Neeve

Neeve moved towards the hearth but always watched Neeria from
the corner of her eyes. Obviously the Woad had never seen a
house before…especially not from the inside. Yet they damn
well know how to set one on fire, she added in thought and
wrinkled her nose slightly as she recalled the last attacks.
Even the infirmary had been under attack. That building on
fire would have caused even more lost lives, no doubt. They
would not have managed to get all the injured and sick people
out in time. The healer took a deep breath and forced herself
to push those thoughts aside again. Arthur was risking his
health and life right now to make sure peace would come over
Badon once more. And even though the raven-haired woman was
currently somewhat upset about the Commander due to her
orders, she still trusted him. She did not trust the Woads
though…and least of all Merlin.

Vanora
 
"These are in good condition as are the doe skinned
boots. The dress is a heavy weave so it should keep you
warm as will the boots and the cloak. I hope these will
do for you, dear, as I have not use for them any more."


Vanora’s return and her voice brought the healer back to the
here and now and she turned slightly to see what Bors’ woman
had brought. A corner of Neeve’s mouth twitched slightly.
Vanora had brought a dress. Now that should be interesting. A
Woad in a dress.

“They are perfect, Vanora…”, the healer said quickly and shot
a warning glance at Neeria. Something already told her that
the Woad would not be happy with the clothes the
tavern-manager was offering. Perhaps she would even start to
argue again. Yet from Neeve’s point of view, Neeria should be
grateful for any clothes she would get. “Don’t you think,
Neeria?”, the Briton added firmly and for the first time
actually used the Woad’s name…if in a rather warning manner…
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Mon Nov 24, 2008 12:41 pm
Derfel


Derfel had slept like the dead – thank the gods – dreamless
and without the nightmares that had been haunting his slumber
as of late. The young knight lay face down on the bed, blonde
hair a tussle and arms folded rather oddly beneath his head.
He was snoring and completely oblivious to the midday sun that
flooded in through the tiny window and illuminated the golden
highlights in his sandy hair.

But there was a sound that had slowly begun to nag at his
subconsiousness…something thumping on wood…and a voice called
out in anger….father?

It was only Lancelot, Arthur’s first and best knight, rapping
at the outer door of the small apartment. But that was not
readily apparent to Derfel whose head was still in a sleep
induced fog. He rolled over with a groan and scrubbed a hand
over his stubbled face. Derfel’s left arm ached, no doubt due
to spending hours pinned beneath his head at an awkward angle.

More thumping.

“Fuck’s sake,” Derfel grumpily complained while attempting to
push himself up into a sitting position on the small bed. And
he finally allowed one eye to open, and then the other….both
were a bit bloodshot and the room seemed a bit blurry….and the
bright light streaming through the dirty window practically
blinded him.

“Shite!” Derfel cursed a bit louder this time at the
realization that it had to be past midday by now. He was
certainly shirking his duties by sleeping half the day
away…sickly in bed or not.

Thwap, thwap at the door.

Derfel forced himself out of bed and stomped his way out from
the tiny room and into the main common room towards the door.
He luckily still wore a pair of brown linen trousers, but that
was all. His bare feet padded across the cold floor and goose
bumps lit up his chest and back despite the heated anger
coursing through his veins at being so rudely awaken. So
whoever it was on the other side of that door had the gods on
their side that Derfel had not snatched up his blade on the
way to greet them.

“Who is the bloody dolt a bangin’ at me door?!!” Derfel
growled loudly as he reached for the wooden latch and
irritably yanked open the door. Obviously, whomever it was
could have easily heard his cursing and he had no mind about
that either. Linnesse would not be knocking like that…and
certainly not her ill-tempered sister either.

….but Derfel’s already pasty colored skin went stark white as
startled blue eyes met the obviously aggravated dark onyx orbs
of ‘Lancelot’.

Great. Bloody just great.

“Ahh…” Derfel stammered at first, expression turning sheepish
as he rubbed a hand over his stubbled throat and shifted his
weight from one foot to the other. His stomach suddenly
girgled rather ubnociously as well - it was certainly empty
though so he doubted he was about to toss up anything on
Lancelot right now…the young knight was quite an unruly sight
to behold. And here stood his so called superior….yet not
looking overly impressive either….Lancelot’s face seemed a bit
damaged as Derfel forced himself to meet the other man’s gaze.

“…morning?” Derfel added with a small smile. A shiver took the
half naked blonde knight and he immediately wrapped both arms
around his bare chest and waited for what was surely going to
be a dressing down from Arthur’s second. Why else would
Lancelot bother to be here?
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Mon Nov 24, 2008 12:52 pm
Smith


Smith was comfortable. Oh he was watchful and ever cautious,
but he felt comfortable. The braided one turned to look at him
intently. The young male should have felt intimidated but he
knew that the braided one was a Sarmatian, one of the Roman
slaves. He was never one to be of the opinion that the woad
battle was not with the Sarmatians - it was. the Sarmatians
fought on behalf of Rome, of course the battle was with them.
A dark smiled crooked the woad's lips and he cocked his head
to the side a little, looking beyond to where Guinevere stood
talking with Arthur. He nodded to himself in satisfaction that
the woman could and wuold handle it, and then took a brief
scan of their surrounds. His ears were perked to any and all
noises in the forest - it was second nature to Smith to be
ever aware of the woodland creatures scurrying about close to
them but unseen.

Scáth, recognising other horses, gave an obnoxious dip of his
head, pulling at the restrainted that Smith implaced on him to
keep him in check. The dark-eyed woad clicked his tongue and
murmured soothing noises to the beast whilst his eyes skimmed
the forest. The Romans closest to him had started to whisper,
making comments that Smith paid some attention to until he
realised it was idle banter. Anyone would have thought that,
given the circumstances that they were in, that they might
talk about something.. important. But no - they spoke of idle
things, nothing of import.

The leader, Castus, dismounted and approached Guinevere. Smith
sat up straight in his saddle at this, his hand reaching for
the sword at his calf before he realised that they were just
talking. He heaved a sigh of relief and looked at the other
woads surrounding the Romans. Kayley he winked at and she gave
him a wicked grin in response. She looked hungry, eager for
this. Smith admired her bloodlust though he felt it not
himself. His was a rational mind, his was ... the gods forbid
he ever admit it or anyone should ever accuse him of it but
... his was a Roman mind.

When things looked to be getting closer to a conclusion,
Guinevere stepped forward and ut her hand into Arthur's. Smith
frowned at this, cocking his head even moreso to see what
transpired. Nolan looked irked and the look Smith gave him was
questionning. He shook his head then, as if it did not matter,
and gestured forward, then flinched and gestured behind him,
towards the trail they had been on, looking to Nolan or
Guinevere for direction on what they wanted him to do. He
could go take care of teh bodies to bury himself, or he could
go on ahead and warn Merlin that they brought Castus with
them.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Mon Nov 24, 2008 1:17 pm
Tatiana


Darya
 
“Look…”, “…don’t waste your time with Lancelot only. He
is not the center of the world, Tatiana. And trust me,
you will find it way easier to build a friendship with
some of the other knights than with him. With Derfel,
for example…Gawain, Galahad…or Bors. They are more
approachable than Lancelot. Start easy…and build, so to
speak.” “Why don’t we change the subject for now, hm?
How’s things in the stables? How do you get along with
Mirtha and Jols?”


"Hmm..I guess you're right, Darya." Tatiana replied while she
finished her first mug of of ale as she let the words that the
dark-haired sink in before starting on her second one. "I'll
work on making friends with the other knights, first, before
trying to make friends with Lancelot."

Watching while the serving girl came by and picked up the
empty plate that had held the raw meat for the hawk and both
the empty tea mug that had held Darya's tea and the mug that
had held her first ale and other servers walked throughout the
tavern getting orders and placing requested items at certain
tables as people entered the tavern to sit down at empty
tables.

"Things at the stables are ok. Jols is one great guy to work
with, I really enjoy working with him, he's one of my favorite
people to work with.

Mirtha, on the other hand, isn't exactly the greatest guys to
work with, though, as he's got quite the temper on him and is
always drinking. I really try to avoid him as much as I can
whenever possible." She said with a shake of her head.

"How long before Tristan's hawk will be able to fly again?"
Tatiana asked putting any thoughts of Mirtha out of her head
with her concern about the hawk.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Mon Nov 24, 2008 1:47 pm
Galahad


Tayala
 
"Why? 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."


Galahad snorted at this disdainfully. He had a weary look
about his young features, his short beard was still managing
to look askew and his black curls were in humourous disarray
atop his head, dangling over his pale forehead and carelessly
brushing against the bridge of his nose.

As if thinking it otherwise would make any bit of difference,
Galahad thought to hismelf bitterly. He almost said it to her
too, but in the end he decided he was too tired to argue with
her about stuff she evidently knew nothing. His eyelids felt
heavy, sandy against his eyes and he just let them rest...
softly... quietly... a moment.

His head jerked as he awoke with a snap, the little mite's
hand on his arm to shake him awake. Galahad shrugged her touch
away rather brusquely, not thinking of offending or hurting
her, but wanting her to stop making his brain bounce around
the inside of his skull more. He lifted his hand abruptly and
placed the heel of his palm against his forehead, fingers
clutching a fistful of curly black hair as he stared at his
wrist, teh girl nattering her complaints at him.

Tayala
 
"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. 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."


The young Sarmatian was beginning to get used to her one-sided
chit-chat. He wasn't even trying to cut in now - just turned
to look at her around his wrist, keeping his hand clutched to
his head as she rebuked him soundly. He cocked an eyebrow, his
hand falling down between his knees as he peered up at the
child in bewilderment. His irate disgruntlment was rapidly
cooling to mere astonishment that this girl was ... giving out
to him.

Who the hell was she?

Her thin arms crossed over her chest and she gave him a sniff.
Galahad's head recoiled at the sound as if surprised and he
opened his mouth, about to tell her that he had no manners,
and to also to ask her snidely if it was Tatiana who had
taught her to yabber the way she did, but alas - he made the
mistake of taking a breath to speak. She was much more adept
at this than he was...

Tayala
 
"Do you need to go to the infirmary to have them check
it out to make sure that its ok?"


What?

Oh!

His toe!

Galahad blinked at Tayala dazedly then looked at his toe,....
then he reacted to her suggestion. Launching to his feet the
young Sarmatian turned to face the girl and then tilted to the
side a little as he put all his weight on one foot. The other
he lifted up to keep his bare skin from touching the cold
groudn -

"Infirmary? It's just a black toe girl..." he said shortly,
then looked down at the toe. The thing was throbbing, filled
with blood - but he didn't want to go to the infirmary. Never
again did he want to go there. If he was to bump into Alina
right now it would tear him apart. Just as he was standing on
one foot, an arm stretched out for balance, a surly, defeated
look on his face, a familiar figure stalked past the stall
behind Tayala. Galahad's head turned to watch the passage of
Eyla and his expression softened somewhat. He didn't look
defensive, nor did he look annoyed - he looked merely young
and uncertain.

Then he frowned.

Sighing, the Sarmatian hopped on one foot to position himself
just right so that when he bent his knees he just flopped back
down onto the upturned barrel. He let his head loll backwards
and bop, again, against the stall divider, his eyes were shut
but he did not sleep now.

"Will you get me the brushes you put away then? Help this
wounded warrior out a bit instead of giving me a headache with
your constant chatter." he mumbled but loud enough that she
cuold hear. His toes curled under and a flash of pain crossed
his youthful features as the throbbing in his toe was
amplified, then lessened as he let the digit straighten.









Catherine

Yes she was willing, ever willing. For now she could forget
the clink of coins that would come later. She would igore the
niggling sound of her mother's voice warning her to receive
payment, or at least know he could afford it, before letting
him get too far ahead of himself, but she juts couldn't do it.
She never could. It wasn't that Catherine didn't like to be
paid well for her services - she just wished she could do what
she did and the money would be in her pouch - without the
intervening handing over of coins. It embarrassed her, humbled
her - and without fail it made her feel wrong, so very, very
wrong.

Malcus
 
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't, But that is, of
course, if I can undress you as well,"


The blonde let her head loll backwards as the man pulled her
in against him. She let her weight rest against his thigh,
felt the heat of his arousal as he ground his hips against
hers. Catherine smiled and her fingers curled around a fistful
of his tunic. He granted her permission to undress him and she
gave a saucy smile at that, fixing teh soldier with a sultry
look as she pulled one side of his tunic up. She pulled the
other up and placed both of her cool palms against the hard
muscle of his stomach.

He dipped his head to kiss the rise of her breasts and
Catherine breathed out an audible groan of pleasure, her green
eyes looked down at his dark red lips brushing the creamy
softness of her breasts. He was pulling the laces of her
bodice and Catherine rolled her hips against his thigh,
gaspign another vehement groan of pleasure. Biting her bottom
lip, the whore clamped her fingers to the buckle of Malcus'
belt and started to undo it with knowledgeable fingers.

"Let us not dally though, hmm? Your hard heat is driving me
crazy..." she chuckled huskily as she glanced up at him. She
had unbuckled his belt but left it just hanging open, and
slowly slid her hand down the front of his pants, biting the
edge of her bottom lip as her fingers sought the tip of his
hard cock, her devious eyes looking up into his handsome face,
a wry half-smile on her mouth as she watched his reaction.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Starbelle
Date: Mon Nov 24, 2008 3:28 pm
Tayala


Galahad
 
"Will you get me the brushes you put away then? Help
this wounded warrior out a bit instead of giving me a
headache with your constant chatter."


"Yes, I suppose, I could. Didn't realize that I was giving you
a headache, but then again, you could've given yourself one
when you bonked your head against the side of the stall, ya
know."

Tayala replied before stepping out of hearing range but her
voice still floated back to the young Sarmatian on her way as
she dodged a goat, a few chickens and a couple of cats as she
headed over to the cabinet to retrieve the requested brushes.

On her way back, she held tightly onto them as she narrowly
avoided tripping over a canine puppy laying in the middle of
the floor right in her path. "Silly dog, don't you know that
you're right in the way being there?" She yelled at the dog
after shaking her head in response.

"Here you are, oh by the way...you never did tell me what
your name was, which isn't fair as you already know my name,
but I don't know yours, or I can always ask Jols what it is.
I know he'll tell me, if you don't cause he always tells me
things. He's nice."

Tayala said while placing them on the counter of the stall.

"Are you sure that you shouldn't go to the infirmary about
that toe of yours, if only to have them check it out? I could
always have my Aunt Tatiana take a look at it? Since she's a
Healer and a good one at that."

She said bring Tati's name into the conversation again and
dusting the entire outfit of her tunic off as she was slightly
covered from head to toe in straw, hay and feathers from the
upset birds living inside the stable.
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golden_trillium

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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Mon Nov 24, 2008 3:51 pm
Ceinwyn


Ceinwyn looked out through the green undergrowth, and her eyes
pierced the scene. Guinevere was negotiating with Arthur
Castus, their enemy, and Ceinwyn wrinkled her nose at their
familiarity. Gods, but they were close. They could breathe
upon eachother’s mouths from that distrance, and Ceinwyn
murmered a growl in the back of her throat. The Woad warrior
blinked lazily, and held tight to her dagger hilt. Would there
be a fight? Would one Roman act arrogantly, and dare offend
the Woad people? Ceinwyn was holding her breath, and she
desired battle. She desired Roman and Sarmatian bloodshed to
calm her own anguish, her own guilt. The woman looked to where
the Sarmatian scout sat upon his horse, and her jaw hardened
visibly. Oh, she hated Sarmatians more! She wanted the slaves
to suffer, and she made no secret of it. Her small fingers
flexed around her dagger, and she reached up into her hair,
seeking to pull it back from her face. The matted knots
protested against her fingers, and she sighed. Ceinwyn would
need to bathe...her hair was dank, matted and filthy...and her
body was mottled with blue paint and mud...

Moving silently, she reached down to the grass and rubbed one
hand against the crisp snow. It was freezing against her
fingers, but was also wet. She caressed the ground in slow
movments, cleaning her palm...and yet not taking her eyes off
the scene before her. She was growing bored, restless. Ceinwyn
herself had conversed with Arthur in the past...and they had
not understood eachother so well. No, she spat insults and he
had nearly throttled her. Ceinwyn’s lips lifted into a slight
smile, bitter, and she flared her nostrils...
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golden_trillium

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Author: Eledhwen
Date: Tue Nov 25, 2008 5:03 am

Bors


Titrus
 
My pockets have to be deep, if you know what I mean.."


Bors stiffled a snort of laughter at the Roman's insinuation,
and relaxed his hand slightly on Sirius' reins as the gelding
skittered, eager to be off. As the burly knight briefly met
the frown of the Optio, Bors quenched the smirk which adorned
his rugged face and stared balefully back, the picture of
innocence. Always amused Bors to give the impression of
subservience, when everyone but that skinny bastard knew the
Sarmatians only ever really answered to Arthur.

He sensed the horse behind them on the trail begin to get
fidgetty, and glanced back over his shoulder, throwing the
dark man... not much more than a boy really... a glowering
look. Bors didn't trust any of these thieving bastards one
little bit, despite Arthur's obvious need to be 'friends'. He
harrumphed to himself and settled deeper into his saddle,
scratching the almost healed wound on his thigh absently as he
waited to follow his commander into Hell.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Darya
Date: Tue Nov 25, 2008 12:33 pm
Darya


Tatiana
 
"Hmm..I guess you're right, Darya. I'll work on making
friends with the other knights, first, before trying to
make friends with Lancelot."


The female Sarmatian acknowledged Tatiana’s decision by
raising her mug to her, giving the stable-hand a nod as she
did so. Hopefully Tatiana would indeed stick to her words for
Darya had no doubt that Lancelot would have no problem
breaking the poor girl’s heart or playing with her as it
pleased him. Blinking the thoughts away again, Darya brought
the mug to her lips and sipped some of the new tea.

And with a faint smile, the dark-haired sipped even more of
the tea when it became obvious that her change of topic
strategy indeed seemed to work. Tatiana reacted to her
questions about her work at the stables…and Darya thanked the
Gods for that. No more gushing about Lancelot for now…

Tatiana
 
"Things at the stables are ok. Jols is one great guy to
work with, I really enjoy working with him, he's one of
my favorite people to work with. Mirtha, on the other
hand, isn't exactly the greatest guys to work with,
though, as he's got quite the temper on him and is
always drinking. I really try to avoid him as much as I
can whenever possible. How long before Tristan's hawk
will be able to fly again?"


Darya nodded pensively at Tatiana’s words…and frowned when she
mentioned Mirtha’s constant drinking. That was news to her…but
then, she didn’t really know the stablemaster well. She had
had only one real conversation with him, after the last
attack…and he had been sober back then. However, she had
noticed a certain grumpiness about him. And he wasn’t a man of
many words either. Though the latter was part of the nature of
several people here at Badon. Herself included…normally at
least.

“Jols is a true sweetheart…if a bit edgy every now and then…”,
the dark-haired mused and glanced into the mugs in her hand as
she spoke, “…you can learn a lot from him when it comes to
taking care of the horses and such… He was probably the first
Briton I ever trusted…” Darya shook her head slightly as she
recalled some of the funny memories regarding Arthur’s loyal
squire. “As for Mirtha…he isn’t a bad guy, you know…”, she
then added and lifted her dark gaze again to meet Tatiana’s,
“…he’s just not exactly one of the cheery personalities
around. But as far as I know, he’s good in what he’s
doing…despite his weakness for ale… Give him a chance…”

When Tatiana then suddenly addressed the topic of Tristan’s
hawk, the female Sarmatian pursed her lips slightly and
glanced at the bird by her side. It looked…satisfied. Or so
she thought. Well, a filled stomach certainly made an animal
feeling better as well…just like it did with humans. Darya
sighed and slightly shrugged her shoulders. “To be honest…I
don’t really know…”, she then replied, “…the injury is still
quite fresh if I remember correctly. So it might take some
more days…weeks maybe. I think she’ll know when the time is
right…” A corner of the woman’s mouth twitched slightly. “Do
you have any pets, Tatiana?”, Darya then asked…making sure the
topic would not return to Lancelot again…
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golden_trillium

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Author: Starbelle
Date: Tue Nov 25, 2008 8:45 pm
Tatiana


Darya
 
“Do you have any pets, Tatiana?”


"Yes, I sure do. I've got a stallion, named Orion, that I
earned for being the only girl to complete their
apprenticeship under Master Cirith. Apparently, from what I
heard from him, the other girls that had been there previously
left. He's my baby and he's got his own stall at the stable."
Tatiana replied sounding rather proud of herself for doing so.

Taking another sip of her ale, she watched as a serving girl
walked by their table, carrying a full tray of food and drinks
for the table a few tables away.

She saw customers come and go, conduct their business, order
food along with drinks and then leave.

"Darya, is there anything stronger than ale on the drink
menu?" She asked curiously. "Don't worry, I'm not going to try
it at least not yet as I'm still getting used to this stuff,
but I'm just wondering about it." The stable-hand asked the
dark haired wonderingly.
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Author: Pinkie
Date: Wed Nov 26, 2008 11:34 am
Amadeus


Part of Amadeus hated being second in Command. A part of him
truly despised having to play a secondary role to Arthur
Castus. But he knew that this was necessary. As his steely
grey eyes swept over the men gathered he was sure to show
favour to those that were not involved in the childish
laughter. As his gaze swept by the unkempt, bullish Sarmatian
knight that Arthur had brought along, he found himself looking
into the face of innocence. It was not a hardy denial of what
Amadeus knew to be true, it was a subtle hint that things were
not as he thought they had been. He scowled at the burly
knight and turned to regard Arthur who was turning himself, to
address the group.

Arthur
 
“Men, We shall ride on to Merlin in escort. Show only
courtesy and reverence,”


Courtesy and reverence! HA!

It galled!

Amadeus was given a stiff nod of approval from the Commander
and he could not deny a surge of pride that he had done well
by his 'superior'. He caught himself just before he made a
fool of himself by smiling.

Oh there was a certain charisma from Arthur Castus, a
particular hardness that Amadeus was not able to deny - it
made a man want to please him, it bid him do well in this
man's eyes for it would serve you good later in life. It was
hard for the Optio to ignore that charisma when he was trying
his hardest to be the 'good guy' in the group.

In another time, and another place, perhaps he might have been
the perfect Optio for Arthur Castus. Perhaps he might have
followed the Romano-British Commander into battle and fought
ardently by his side for all that was good and holy in their
homeland. But in this time and palce there was too much
ambition in Amadeus Scipio. He would not, could not remain as
second to Castus.

Arthur turned back to Guinevere and the Optio goggled as the
Commander offered to carry her upon his horse. He felt bile
rise in his throat and a surge of hot anger turned his cheeks
pink. He ground his teeth and ducked his head, feigning to
tighten buckles and stirrup straps that needed no tightening
or adjusting.

What was the man thinking?!

The brash and traitorous offer was enough to shove Amadeus'
earlier thoughts of obediance and complicity far into the back
of his mind - oh no! No this would never do! A Roman Commander
who would suffer a woad whore to ride upon his horse?! It was
abhorrent to the Optio and he had to remain crouched a long
while to calm himself.

Guinevere
 
“I’m sure you will be well-behaved, as you are clearly
outnumbered by those you can see, and those you cannot.
My brother-in-arms will lead us.”


The woman extended a blue, thin arm to Arthur. Amadeus watched
with his upper lip curlign into a sneer. He wished to reach
across and snap that scrawny arm for he saw only a feeble
woman. He did not presume women to be warriors no matter what
he had heard and no matter what he had witnessed in that
midnight attack at Badon. No - women were .... women, blast
it! They were fair and slight and proper. They were pretty and
they were willing when confronted with men like Amadeus
Scipio. Women were not meant to be brash and confident and
cocky like this. Women should be ... should be ...wel, they
should be like Linnette. Or Linnesse, or Rowan, though the
latter woman was a little too intelligent and conniving to be
truly Eve-like to Amadeus.

He shrugged one broad shoulder and glanced over his shoulder
at the men, giving all of them a firm glare to remind them of
the Commander's warning. He gave the men who had been
'behaved' a courteous nod of his head and then looked forward
again, ready to ride at Arthur's back.









Galahad

Tayala
 
"Yes, I suppose, I could. Didn't realize that I was
giving you a headache, but then again, you could've
given yourself one when you bonked your head against the
side of the stall, ya know."


Galahad didn't mean to but he laughed. It was a sudden snort
of amuesment and surprise that she was ... she was ... so
spunky! It was a breath of fresh air and yet for some reason
teh laugh stuck in his throat like a barb. It spluttered to a
halt and he hacked a cough as if he had never laughed at all.
He realised why it had stuck... in that moment, right then -
with her big doe-eyes, her dark hair and the challenge in her
tone - well, it put him in mind of a young Alina. And any
reminders of Alina right now were not welcome.

The young Knight pursed his lips and tipped his head forward,
hunching his shoulders as he rested his elbows on his knees.
She was walking away and her voice trailed back to him,
brushing against his senses though he barely paid any
attention at all to what she said. His heart was broken,
essentially that was what was wrong with him. The injury on
his stomach was festering - but the real problem that had his
mood more foul than normal was that betrayal.
And his inability to do anything about it.

Tayala
 
"Here you are, oh by the way...you never did tell me
what your name was, which isn't fair as you already know
my name, but I don't know yours, or I can always ask
Jols what it is. I know he'll tell me, if you don't
cause he always tells me things. He's nice. Are you sure
that you shouldn't go to the infirmary about that toe of
yours, if only to have them check it out? I could always
have my Aunt Tatiana take a look at it? Since she's a
Healer and a good one at that."


She was back and continued to babble.

Galahad sighed heavily and lifted his head to peer at her,
watching her lips move but not truly hearing what she said,
not entirely. Bits broke thruogh his self-pitying haze and he
reached out a strong hand to grip one of the brushes taht she
loomed over on teh stall divider.

"Galahad." he told her succinctly, wondering at her obsession
with Arthur's squire. She was only a child but perhaps she had
a fancy for the old squire? It amused Galahad to consider it
and he gave her a crooked smile that barely reached his blue
eyes as he stood, brush in hand, one boot on, one boot off and
put the bristles to the grey's flank. "And a bloody toe is the
least of my concerns girl." he told her in a mumble, beginning
to move teh brush against the horse's side swiftly,
confidently. The beast gave a snort and extended her neck to
snuffle at Tayala who stood at the stall door.

The young Knight moved around, hobbling on one foot. His toe
was turning a rather ugly shade but in truth there was little
to be done for it. infirmary or no infirmary - it was just a
bloody toe to go with his bloody bad mood. Maybe Eyla had been
right.

"How long have you and your aunt been here, girl? I don't
remember a healer named Tatiana." he said with a dark frown,
not looking at the child but focussing his full attention on
the horse in front of him. He would have enjoyed this if he
were alone - but oddly enough, he wasn't as annoyed about the
girl's presence as some might have thought. Somewhere deep
inside his surly, petulant mood-swings, Galahad didn't want to
be alone.









Saoirse

Saoirse was a chased woman, a woman on the run. She had been
since she was just 16 years old and she had fled the crushing
marriage to a provincial King in Ireland. Her habits were that
of a chased woman, her thoughts and mannerisms were all
carefully honed to prevent people from getting to know her too
well. Only Dagonet seemed to have ever penetrated that secret
shell that she covered herself with. There were others that
she came close to - people she could and would talk to, but
none knew the full story of her shattered past, and no others
would. Even people she termed as 'friends' at Badon knew
nothing of her past, or her royal lineage. And she would keep
it taht way.

Dagonet knew - he had to know. Saoirse could not believe that
he could love her truly if he did not know the full story of
her past, and know it he did now. He knew her shames and her
hurts and he loved her still. For the Irish woman, to be loved
so unreservedly - it bound her to him in more ways than she
could ever explain.

His hurt was her hurt. His loss was her loss. He shared in her
past and she shared in his present. He shared in her past so
that she could share in his present. Even if taht present was
so bitterly bleak with recent bereavement.

Dagonet
 
"I understand, little one. And sorry... that I couldn't
see that. I am happy to be here with you... really.
There is nothing wrong with that."


Saoirse was comforted by his words. She did not make a verbal
response but nodded her head, brushing her fair face against
his bristly tunic, keeping her eyes shut. It was silly to be
so easily swayed. By him telling her that there was nothing
wrong with it she wholly believed him. Perhaps because she
wanted to?

Dagonet
 
"Aye... I don't want to hear more, how I stink of horse
and blood"


Surrounded by the scent of horse and blood on him even now,
Saoirse found this statement to be amusing. She gave a brief
breath of amusement and turned her face to his chest,
breathing in that scent that he complained of. She opened her
blue eyes and looked up at him from beneath her fair eyelashes
and she smiled. Her eyes were full of vitality and mischief,
her nose still glued to the man's smelly tunic. She laughed
again and lifted her two hands to his face. Her pale palms
held his stubbled cheeks confidently and she stood on
tippy-toes. Softly, the Irish woman brushed her lips against
the Knights and smiled then, her cold nose against his chin,
eyes shut.

"I never said it was a bad thing, did I?" she murmured, then
gave another small laugh knowing he would not aprpeciate that
comment either. Taking his hand, the red head lead the knight
into the darker rooms inside the bath-house. She did not
hesitate to wander into the men's part of the baths and there
she spied the bundle of clothes she had left there for them to
chaneg into once they were out of the baths.

"It's not quite how I envisioned undressin' ye once I got ye
on me own but ... it'll do.." she smiled at him and pressed
her hand to his shoulder, encouraging him to sit on one of the
benches along the walls surroudning the baths. The water was
warm, not hot, but warm enough to take the chill out of the
air.
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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Wed Nov 26, 2008 12:19 pm
Neeria


Neeria continued to let the warmth of the fire in the small
fireplace seep into her cold weary, bones. She tried to ignore
the itching from her healing wound beneath her tunic.

Home. This was someone's home, something Neeria had never
truly experienced in all of her life. The woad dug in her
filthy head again, scratching at her dry, dirty scalp. She
sniffed deeply, pulling the gooey contents of her full
nostrils back into her head, but also taking in another deep
breath of the good smells coming out of Vanora's kitchen.

Family . Vanora had a family. Mikal, Merlin, Guinevere, Mona,
Smith, Nolan, Rosita, along with the others were Neeria's
family. Weren't they? Mikal was dead now as was Sirus and
Neeria wasn't so sure about Merlin and Guinevere anymore. What
have I done? Neeria wasn't so sure anymore. She was confused.

Everything that happened over the past few days was jumbled
and blurred in the woad's mind. She'd made an honest attempt
at killing Artorius. She could taste his blood on her tongue.
His murder was in her heart. Of that she was sure. She'd been
blinded by her rage over the death of her beloved husband. But
she'd hesitated when she had the golden opportunity. She'd
wanted to know why Mikal had to die. She'd wanted an answer
from Arthur and that's when he'd overpowered her. It was that
one hesitation that had now changed her life forever. She
heard Vanora humming in the other room, looking for clothes.
Neeria continued to stare at the fire, thinking.

She'd told Arthur she would lead them Merlin's camp to save
the rest of her people from being slaughtered, to give them a
chance to get away. Sending Mona ahead to tell Merlin of her
capture, she knew Merlin would leave the camp. But why did you
give Arthur the information instead of accepting death as your
destiny? Neeria squeezed her eyes shut at the question that
kept hounding her subconscious, pulling at her heart. Am I
really a traitor? The hairs on her arms stood up at the
possibility. Neeria was trained by Guinevere herself and
treated like her sister and she was favored by Merlin whom she
loved like her own father. She dearly loved them both.

Why then? she pushed herself to answer the question. Because I
am weary. I'm tired of the fight. I don't want to fight
anymore. The honesty of the answer forced Neeria's eyes open
and she almost jumped from the clarity of it all. Yes, she did
love Merlin and Guinevere, but perhaps Artorius was really who
he said he was. Perhaps he really did seek peace. But the
Romans killed your husband the inner voice reminded her and
the Sarmatians side with the Romans But the Sarmatians were
slaves. They were much like the woads. They did what they were
commanded to do and hated who they were ordered to hate.
Besides, Neeria had seen Mikal's knife on a Roman. She was
sure it was he who'd killed her beloved.

So much turmoil in her mind, so many thoughts and emotions
swirling about. Neeria listened to the children playing with
each other outside, the sounds wafting through the small
window in the room.

Innocence There was another side of life other than living in
the woods. Vanora and even this healer woman, Neeve, lived a
different existence. Was it wrong for Neeria to be curious
about this existence? She just wasn't sure about anything
anymore. Then, you are a traitor to your people the voice
screamed at her. Neeria's eyes watered and she fought back the
tears. Fortunately, for the sake of her sanity Neeria thought,
Vanora came back into the room with clothes she'd found.
Neeria pushed the thoughts away from her conscious, to be
considered again another time.

Vanora
 
"These are in good condition as are the doe skinned
boots. The dress is a heavy weave so it should keep you
warm as will the boots and the cloak. I hope these will
do for you, dear, as I have not use for them any more."


a dress? Neeria couldn't recall ever having seen one up close
before. The woad tilted her head to the side and looked at the
garment, curiosity all over her face. She scrunched her nose
up and tried to picture herself in it - a far cry from her
leather breast straps, leather pants and slippers.

Neeve
 
“They are perfect, Vanora. Don’t you think, Neeria?


Neeria turned her sideways glance to Neeve and cast her glance
to the ceiling.

"I would like to try them, I think." she said, almost
childlike. "Thank you for your kindness, Vanora. For the boots
especially," she added, appreciation laced in her voice,
knowing that her feet should stay nice and warm in the animal
skinned boots.

"What is that food you are cooking?" she asked Vanora bluntly,
sniffing in the air. "I would like some of that!" she added as
though it was the most natural thing in the world.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Wed Nov 26, 2008 12:28 pm
Mari


Linnette
 
"True. Very true. Unique, Not the sort of thing a man
would like, though..."


Mari didn't mean to be so optimistic. It was natural to her to
try and see the best in people. It took quite alot of effort
on her part to note the negative. That the woman had strange
hair was unmistakable! It was quite odd, if Mari was to be
especially cruel, but 'odd' only came to her after 'unique'
and 'unfortunate' did. She couldn't help but wonder what had
happened to the woman for her hair to end up like that. It
must have been something recent if it had not grown. The young
woman was about to ask Linnette if she knew but was finding it
hard to ask without it sounding cruel. Linnette continued
speaking then, about a man not liking it.

The young woman's eyebrows lifted a moment and her wide,dark
eyes peered over at Linnette in slight confusion. For herself?

Linnette
 
"Oh, I'm not talking about me! By heaven, no, It's
just... Well, there's someone else I know- a widower-
And I've been sort of...keeping an eye out for him, if
you know what I mean."


Rapt, Mari continued to eat her lunch as Linnette explained
about the widower. She cocked her head slightly at this
statement, wondering why being a widower had been noteworthy,
but disregarded it as Linnette continued, explaining that she
was looking to find a woman for this man. Mari's smile was
beaming! Beautiful! Her shoulders sagged and her elbows tucked
into her stomach as she smiled across at Linnette.

"That's so sweet of you! I wonder if he has any idea that he
has someone so kind looking out for him." the young woman
professed and sat forward quite suddenly, excited. Her hand
reached across to Linnette's gently and she touched the back
of her hand lightly - "You must show him to me. What kind of
women wuold he like, do you think? That woman.... with the
hair... she's ... well, she seems quite tough. Though that
might just be her boyish... er...unique hairstyle more than
anything...." she sat back and picked up a piece of bread,
chewing it as she frowned in thought.









Drake

The two rabbit carcasses hung at his hip, slapping against his
thigh as he walked across the courtyard. The Spaniard sniffed
loudly, wiping the back of his hand against the underside of
his nose. By God it was cold - but it was refreshing. His
jaunt out into the forests around Badon had been profitable
and soothing. He had caught some fish in a stream and had
carefully wrapped them in the bundle on his saddle and he had
gathered some branches and twigs for a fire in his hearth too.
The wood he had gathered was dried, and if it was the wood he
presumed it to be it would add a refreshing scent to his room
when he did burn it.

Golden cheeks were burned by the wind and a vitality burned in
the man's bottle green eyes as he strode towards the tavern.
His footfalls were light, as if a dancer lurked beneath his
warrior bulk, and his red cloak streamed out behind him, the
tattered edges almost black with mud and dirt.

Pushing open the tavern door, Drake's nostrils were assailed
by the scents of food and beer. His stomach growled and he
strode inside, glancing around to see who was where. It was a
relfex of his, a protective instinct that he had honed to a
second nature after all his years as a bodyguard. He spotted
Linnette but did not look at her overly long. In fact, when he
spotted the back of her head he had almost turned and walked
out again.

That urge he could not explain.

She was not to blame for his current attack of male needs and
male wants - hardly! She was just an innocent bystander he had
happened to slightly fall for. That she seemed in constant
need of his protection and sheltering arms was hardly her
fault either. It was more his fault for thinking he was the
only one who could protect her. Even from herself.

Guiltily the Spaniard lifted his wounded hand, the bandage
looking even more pathetic now than before, and tucked his
thumb behind his belt as he went straight to the bar. He hoped
Linnette would not realise it was him... He had, after-all, a
very unimpressive back to his head.

A serving wench approached him as he unhooked the rabbit
carcasses from his belt and placed them on the counter in
front of him. He ordered an amphora of wine to take back to
his room to warm at the fire and cook his rabbit for dinner.
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