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November 2008
Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,041 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Sat Nov 29, 2008 9:34 pm

Tayala


Galahad
 
"And why are you braiding my horse's mane? She is not a
Lord's horse. She's a slaves horse."


"Will you please stop calling yourself that, sir Knight."
Tayala said mock exasperation tinging her tone slightly as she
stomped a tiny booted foot down onto the stable floor to match
her tone of voice, meanwhile not stopping once with her
intricate braiding of his horse's mane nor glancing over at
him eventhough the young girl could feel his eyes on her like
a two sharp sword blades while she did so. "You're not a
slave, at least not in my eyes you're not." She commented in a
slight pique of anger at him.

"I'm braiding her mane in the same reason like you brush her
coat, to make her pretty and there's gotta be a place in
Sarmatia that you were born in, isn't there? Cause I've never
heard of the place that you just told me about, Galahad. Not
in two million years."

Tayala replied with a slight shake of her head, sending her
curls dancing over her small shoulders with the motion while
her tiny fingers practically flew over the gray horse's mane
with a design that she had created in her mind.

"By the way, my Aunt Tatiana is a good practical joker. She's
told me about the pranks that she used to play when she was my
age, before she started her Apprenticeship as a stable-hand.

I bet that if I asked her too..she could still pull a good one
off and get you to crack a smile if not a full-blown laugh at
it. That's what you definetly need, sir Knight. When was the
last time that you really laughed or cracked a smile, Galahad?
Are you ticklish? That might work even better."

Tayala said with a definete nod as if he was a puzzle that she
had just found the solution to.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 12:27 am
Malcus Barbattus


Malcus' senses tingled as Catherine touched his throbbing
desire. Goosebumps speckled his muscular biceps and the soft
hairs on his forearms stood on end. His nostrils flared and
his eyes hooded as the beauty deftly wiggled so that her skirt
fell down low about her hips. Malcus stared at Catherine's
flat stomach and the small juts of her hipbones on each side
of her delicate, half exposed navel. The skirt hung
precariously just above her body's vee and Malcus' cock
twitched in anticipation of the goodies waiting for him just
below the seam of the garment.

The woman raised her hand to cup her breasts and beckoned for
the captain to move closer. Malcus bathed in her smoky green
eyes, his pulse accelerating as he took a step toward her. He
involuntarily licked his lips, staring at her puckered nipples
- stiff and hard - standing at attention from her pink aerolas
which were a striking compliment to her creamy colored skin.
Catherine's expression implied her satisfaction with
Barbattus' endowment which only encouraged him even more to
satisfy her.

Catherine
 
"My turn? I don't usually get turns. C'mere..."


Like a moth drawn to the flame, Malcus followed the woman over
to his chest of drawers. Catherine slid herself on top of the
chest and raised her leg.

Malcus sucked in a breath and emitted a low growl, a sound of
victory, a sound of male dominance. He smiled at Catherine
then, as he stared at her gift to him. The captain walked over
to her and slid his arm under the crook of her knee, pulling
her butt to the very edge of the drawers.

"Lay back," he said, his voice husky with desire.

He pushed Catherine's other leg wider and watched her
femininity blosom like a rose under his lustful gaze. He
lowered his head to her heat and oh, so very slowly licked her
slit from bottom to top, pausing a moment to suck on the
hooded button peeking out from the wet folds of her pussy.
Malcus smirked and raised his head then took his hand and
guided his throbbing cock to her opening. With a moan, he
pushed his hips forward and let out out a gush of air as her
inner walls separated and conformed to accept his length and
girth. Malcus grabbed one of Catherine's breasts as he found a
rhythm, thrusting slowly and deeply into the woman beneath
him.

"Gods Catherine," he moaned, "you feel so good, my lady," he
said with eyes closed, locking his hips to hers and grinding
deep inside of her.

Malcus buried his head in the crook of Catherine's neck as his
pulse quickened as well as his pace. He began to buck his
hips, knowing his release would come soon. But the captain was
not a selfish lover. He wanted to please the woman as well.
Before he exploded and spilled his seed, he asked her a
question which would please him and send him over the edge.

"Do I please the lady?" Malcus asked, locking his dark eyes
onto her soft emeralds, and smiled at her wickedly.









Nolan and Rosita

Nolan's jaw tightened and clenced at the scene unfolding
before his eyes but he didn't dare say anything further to
Guinevere. His arm still smarted from where'd she'd pinched
him. He'd deal with that later. Right now, the safety of
Merlin, the princess and the others was his main priority.

The cold air whipped the woad's hair about his head and he
shivered slightly - his body responding to both the low
temperature and the anger that surged through his body. His
amber eyes threw daggers at the half Roman mutt as he placed
his large hands around Guinevere's to help her mount the
snorting beast. Nolan tried very hard to hide his disdain. He
was convinced Merlin would not be pleased by the princess'
actions. Her arrogance with Castus would anger their leader,
of that he was sure. Perhaps Arthur truly did come seeking
peace, but Guinevere's closeness to him would anger her
father.

Once Guinevere was seated properly on the beast and Smith was
on his way, Nolan looked about the wood and made a sound with
his mouth. Slowly, around him, the woods and bushes came alive
as some of their party came forward and showed themselves.
Some of them covered the rear of Arthur's party.

Rosita gritted her teeth, and lowered her bow. The hunter came
from her place in the bushes and dusted herself. She adjusted
the quiver on her back and slung her arm through her bow,
sliding it into place next to the quiver. Kayley joined Micah
and the others.

Rosita never took her eyes off Tristan and the Roman closest
to him as she took her place next to Nolan again. She cast a
glance at the official looking Roman next to Castus and rolled
her eyes, turning her gaze to Guinevere and Arthur. Rosita
nodded at the princess and turned, headed down the path the
way they came.

"We will walk so Smith has time to reach Merlin and bring him
to us," she whispered to Nolan.

Nolan stared straight ahead and nodded his head as they made
their way, just as the sun peeked through a cloud.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 4:07 am
Neeve


Neeve watched Neeria closely as the Woad seemed to inspect the
dress and the boots Vanora had brought. And if the Woad knew
what was good for her, she would not start another argument
about them for the current non-arguing atmosphere was much
more to her liking.

Neeria
 
"I would like to try them, I think. Thank you for your
kindness, Vanora. For the boots especially. What is that
food you are cooking? I would like some of that!"


Vanora
 
"I think she'll look very nice in a dress, and the boots
have little wear to them, so they will keep her feet
warm... Yes. I think they will do nicely. As long as you
can get use from them, Neeria, then you are welcome to
them. My mother always told me to do acts of kindness
for others. To do this for you was not a problem, and
you are welcome. My dear, my oldest daughter made that
for dinner tonight. If you wish to, you and Neeve may
return and join all 12 of my children and myself of
dinner while Bors is gone. It'd be nice to have
company."


Good, no bitching about having to wear a dress despite Neeve
being very sure that Neeria had never worn one before. Woads
did not wear dresses. Surely it was pure curiousity that had
Neeria react the way she was. Either that or finally some sort
of comprehension for her situation.

The healer listened to the exchange between the other two
women in silence. However, Neeria’s blunt question about more
food and Vanora’s indirect invitation for dinner made the
Briton arch an eyebrow. 12 children, Vanora and Neeria…?! No
way! There was no way on earth that she would get herself
involved into such an event. Hopefully Derfel would have found
her by then. Perhaps the knight would happily join the dinner
party…Neeve certainly would not. First of all it was so not
part of Arthur’s orders, thus she did not have to do it…and
secondly, it would be against her nature. Crowded rooms were
not her favourite place to be…let alone a room loaded with
screaming romping children AND a Woad.

However, the raven-haired kept those thoughts…plans…to herself
and just gave Vanora a brief half-smile to confirm that she
had heard the offer. Yet she might still have a word with the
tavern-manager in private. It seemed the redhead had not
realized yet that Neeria was still a prisoner. And one did not
address a prisoner with 'If you wish to'… It did not matter
what a prisoner wanted or not. And for an instant, Neeve even
wondered if Vanora would still be so nice and kind to the Woad
if she knew that Neeria had tried to kill Arthur only a very
few days ago. And that Neeria had been a very active part of
the recent attacks of that…

“Why don’t you try the new clothes on, Neeria?”, the Briton
then addressed the Woad, “…to see if they fit?”
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 2:58 pm
Guinevere


Guinevere sat impressively atop Casti, her chin lifted
defiantly. The woman’s lips were pouted petulantly, and she
took a moment to survey the woodland. Her black gaze swept
over their surroundings, the evergreen foliage and looming
trees. Hard snow rested upon branches and leaves, and yet her
people still hid adeptly. Ceinwyn dwelt not far away, and for
a woman of such red hair, she remained invisible to the Romans
and Sarmatians around them. Impressive. Guinevere’s eyes
glittered, and she smiled proudly to herself. Yes, her people
were more intelligent than the Roman party, and Guinevere was
smug to admit it. Arthur had a capable mind, it was true, and
he was driven by peace. Did that win wars? Truly? Guinevere
doubted it. It was a bitter confession, but armies were
ruthless. Could Arthur be merciless? Barbaric? No, she
supposed...and she was grateful for it. Their Optio however,
seemed to possess all the cowardly traits of a savage Roman.
Guinevere had heard tales of what Roman masters did to their
British captives, and yet she could not imagine Arthur being
so cruel. It did not mean that she forgave Rome. No, she hated
it with a passion. Her friendship and trust was reserved for
only Arthur. His Roman companions could rot in their own Hell.


Arthur
 
“Of course, and I pray that he will for I shall not
accept ‘no’ for an answer…lady,”


Guinevere glanced down at Arthur, and nodded. Yes, he should
hope for the best. Guinevere’s trust was not easily gained,
but Merlin’s? Arthur should pray to his barbaric Christian god
that Merlin favoured peace today. Guinevere felt Arthur remove
her foot from the stirrup, and she allowed him. The woman was
in his charge now, no? She was his captive. Looking ahead as
he mounted behind her, Guinevere’s fingers curled deeper into
the front of the saddle. She felt the warmth of Casti’s
withers against her fingertips, and felt Arthur’s legs capture
her small body between them. Her small dress had lifted high
around her blue thighs, and she felt the heat of Arthur’s
muscles. It was a strange sensation, but she did not draw
attention to it. The woman allowed him to settle behind her,
and looked down at Nolan. Her eyes were dark, glittering in
the dim light, and she nodded in compromise. Theirs was not a
battle of power, but their methods differed. Guinevere had
also had the privilege of living in Badon for a brief while,
and learning Arthur’s character. Nolan had nothing to fear
today. But tomorrow? Perhaps...

Her eyes only lifted when Smith rode ahead. The thump of his
horse’s hooves was enough to attract attention, and a slight
smile lifted her full mouth.

Arthur
 
“I offer a little warmth, hm?”


“I knew there was some use for your cloak. Aside from marking
you out as the enemy on the battlefield...” She spoke softly,
gently. Guinevere felt Arthur’s mouth close to her ear, and
her slight smile remained. The Roman covered her legs with his
thick red cloak, and Guinevere felt his hand rest lightly on
her stomach. Warmth? Yes. Guinevere could not deny the heat of
his body, the gentle touch of his legs against hers. She was
dwarfed by his height, his muscular build, but the woman was
not intimidated. She tilted her head back onto Arthur’s chest,
and watched Nolan and Rosita begin to lead their party
onwards. Their path was small, overgrown and wild, and
Guinevere glanced down as several small branches touched
against Casti’s body. This was no place for a horse, not
truly, but she was fascinated by their civilised obedience
towards their Roman and Sarmatian masters. She admired Smith
for this same trait, the ability to tame the wild. Guinevere
was wild, beautiful and untamed, and she looked almost
barbaric against Arthur’s body. Her hair was loose and dark
around her face, and her skin was pale and mottled blue. What
exactly did Arthur feel in that moment? The female warrior was
curious. She turned her face slightly; her lips close to his
jaw line.

“You look well, Arthur. Why did you send that fool in your
place? Your word is the only Roman word worth anything in this
land...” Her dark eyes glanced over the Roman’s shoulder, and
rested upon the Optio. She winked at the man, and pouted her
coltish mouth at him, before looking back to Arthur. Her lips
almost touched his jaw as she spoke, for his ears only...









Ceinwyn

Ceinwyn of Briton crouched low in the undergrowth. Her green
eyes peered out through the leaves, and she lifted her fingers
slowly to move a branch aside. Her movement was tiny, but it
disturbed the snow upon the leaves above her head. Severeal
snowflakes fell down onto her red hair, and flittered down to
rest upon her eyelashes and small nose. She paid them no heed,
but rather blinked lazily at the scene before her. Guinevere
had mounted Arthur’s horse, and Ceinwyn did not know how to
feel about it. The Woad Princess was intelligent, smart, but
it seemed a brave and confident move. What if Arthur was
playing with this peace? What if he had a hidden agenda that
involved the death of Guinevere? Ceinwyn’s lips parted, and
she breathed softly, contemplating. The Woads had no choice
but to trust their Princess, and pray to the gods that Arthur
was as merciful as Guinevere claimed. She glanced around to
Arthur’s companions, and rescognised the Scout and the Roman
who had been incharge of the previous negotiation. A failed
negotiation. The others were of no interest to Ceinwyn, and
she dismissed them as such...

The woman heard the thundering of heavy hooves, and her eye
brightened visibly. She reached down into her boot to retrieve
a dagger...before realising the source of the sound. Smith.
Not a Roman, nor a Slave. Smith. Their kindred. Ceinwyn’s eyes
lifted to his impressive form, and she felt his eyes
momentarily gaze upon her. It was like...thunder. Heavy,
potent, intense. Dark eyes narrowed in her direction, and she
glanced quickly away. She was almost...afraid of his eyes, and
Ceinwyn frowned as she looked back to his retreating form. She
could stand against the most fearsome enemy, male or no. But
to be confronted with something handsome, someone who pleased
visibly...well, the woman did not like it. It made her
nervous, it clouded her mind and judgment. There was no point
in dwelling on intimacy, it was weakness...

The Woad watched the party begin to move, and she moved
alongside them. Slowly, cautiously...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 3:35 pm
Arthur


The wind whipped and whirled around them, the grey sky refused
to give up her gloom and fresh snowfall was surely to come
before they reached their destination – Merlin’s village. The
time of day was difficult to tell for certain with such cloud
cover, but Arthur assumed it was late afternoon by now. He
briefly bit at his bottom chapped lip and silently calculated
the odds that he could have his men safely back within the
walls of the Keep before the moon would hang fat and full
overhead in the middle of the night. Return ‘home’…return to
what Arthur faced there – two Sarmatians and two very intense
matters. His chest ached again and not entirely on account of
his wounded side.

A lone rider thundered by the group as Arthur settled into
position on his mount with Guinevere nestled between his
powerful horseman’s thighs. Intense green eyes followed the
rider – a Woad – until the man was out of view. Surprising.
Tristan had informed Arthur that a horse had accompanied
Guinevere’s party, but the fact that one among the Woads
seemed an accomplished horseman was unusual and ‘interesting’.


Guinevere
 
“I knew there was some use for your cloak. Aside from
marking you out as the enemy on the battlefield...”


And so Lancelot also tells me prior to every battle.

He allowed a small smile at the remark, but remained silent.
Arthur was proud of his Roman heritage and wore the crimson
cloak in honour of his rank and all that Rome stood for. It
mattered not that such a cloak made him highly visible – but
the enemy knew Artorius Castus no matter his manner of dress.

Arthur noted Guinevere’s companion ‘Nolan’ as the man began to
walk forward along their path. And thus the Commander gave his
stallion a slight nudge with his heel and a click of his
tongue and the white warhorse readily responded as commanded.
Arthur trusted that his men would follow and so he gave no
call out to those under his command. Not this time. The men
knew what was expected of them.

The path was obviously not intended for the passing of mounted
men, but Casti moved through the brush confidently. And
Guinevere seemed quite content in Arthur’s possession; the
lady warrior had allowed his body to envelope hers in complete
submission, and even now rested her head back against his
breastplate…as if welcoming his attentions. But Arthur was no
ordinary man and was not typically swayed by such acts….if
that was indeed Guinevere’s intent. Not likely, she was as
cunning as Arthur when it came to negotiating with the enemy.

She turned to catch Arthur’s eye and her lips nearly brushed
his in such close proximity. But Arthur did not tilt away from
Guinevere.

Guinevere
 
“You look well, Arthur. Why did you send that fool in
your place? Your word is the only Roman word worth
anything in this land...”


Her warm breath reached his chilled lips as she spoke -
tempting him to accept the heat simmering there. Was she
purposely taunting him? Curiosity illuminated the depths of
his green eyes as Arthur focused on Guinevere’s dark eyes.
Long strands of her hair messily framed her pale face and the
bitter wintry air surely had caused the tip of her nose to
appear ruddy in pointed contrast to her dark lashes and eyes.
Any other man would easily succumb to her beauty….any other
man. But Arthur had a purpose here and that was peace with
Merlin. He would not allow anything else to interfere with
that mission. Period.

“I regret that I was detained in meeting with your father,”
Arthur spoke evenly and obviously comfortable with this close
proximity to his ‘captive’. His hand even dared to press
slightly more so on Guinevere’s abdomen. “The man is not a
fool, only inexperienced in the ways of your people. Why don’t
you tell me what happened yesterday, hm?” Arthur encouraged
Guinevere to describe her views on the failed meeting as a way
to show his own willingness to compromise. Peace was the
objective here after all. And they had a little time…..green
eyes momentarily ticked up ahead in observance of their path
and surroundings. If Guinevere had hoped to completely
distract Arthur during this ride…she would soon learn that was
not so easy a task.

Amadeus Scipio, Rome’s appointed Optio and second in command
to Castus, held his head high and urged his mount onward to
follow after Arthur at the Commander’s signal. But God help
him, it was nearly impossible to keep his utter disgust
concealed at watching Arthur carry that Woad bitch upon his
horse! And she winked??? Amadeus was a master at keeping his
true thoughts hidden and so he rode on appearing the exemplary
Roman officer that he was – and ignoring the pretentious
blue-stained woman…..Castus would pay for this ridiculous
courtesy to her and these barbarians…all in good time.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 6:22 pm
Linnesse


Linnesse loosened the clasp of her cloak as she made her way
down the corridor of the Kinghts’ quarters, heading- after a
momentary false start- past the turn-off she would have made
to get to the old room and on down the corridor to the very
end, where the new apartment was. Her nose and ears were red
and achy from the cold, even though she had not exactly been
outside long- she had always been sensitive to the chill, and
besides, she had walked a bit on the slow side- hurrying still
tended to drain her strength, a last vestige of the fever
illness that still clung to her, sapping her when she no
longer expected it. Right now, though, she was thankfully not
particularly tired, just cold. Cold, and wanting to see
Derfel, for some reassurance that he was all right.

Oh, not that she was seriously worried about him. He had an
ordinary hangover, no more and no less, and if he had rested
this morning he was likely all but cured already- but
nevertheless, the thought of him possibly getting sick again
and being all alone in their room with no one to help him with
it, or even just his no-doubt aching head, made Linnesse’s
tender heart flutter with sympathy. Even in such a trivial
thing as this, she would have taken all of Derfel’s pain away
if there was any way to do it, taken it from him and left him
standing strong and tall, and smiled to do it. Now, though,
she just quickened her steps towards their new apartment, then
slowed down again when, as she drew closer, she detected
voices from inside.

A male voice, not Derfel’s, from behind the closed door…it
sounded snappish and irritated, perhaps sarcastic, and was
familiar to her, though she couldn’t immediately place it
without seeing the associated face. Derfel’s voice followed,
saying something with the inflection of a surprised question,
though Linnesse didn’t quite catch the words around the
intervening door. The blonde healer hesitated a moment,
falling prey to a stab of uncertainty…ought she to go in? In
the end, though, she decided- or firmly told herself- that
Derfel was inside, and there was no indication of danger, and
she should indeed go in, sarcasm originating from an unknown
male notwithstanding. Needlessly adjusting her cloak on her
shoulders, Linnesse stepped forward and tapped lightly on the
door, by way of warning, and then pushed it open, peering
around it with some trepidation before stepping just inside.

“Derfel…I just wanted to see if you were feeling better,” she
began, her eyes taking in her man’s visible condition with a
quick sweep. Not as pale as he had been…good. Hair, rumpled.
Not shaved. Dressed, his boots on his feet and coat over his
arm, though his shirt sat askew on his shoulders, as if it had
been pulled on hastily. Carrying his sword and daggers in the
other hand…was something wrong after all? Linnesse’s eyebrows
knitted with concern, and her gaze slid over to the other
occupant of the room- Lancelot, as she now recognized, and
readily associated with the voice.

“Sir,” she dropped a quick, though flawlessly correct, curtsy
in the First Knight’s direction, bowing her head as she did
so, then raising it again, her eyes drawn with a healer’s
unerring gaze to the impressive black eye that Lancelot
sported- perhaps a legacy of that fight she had heard about
yesterday? At any rate, it was purple and swollen enough to
dominate his normally-handsome face, and looked extremely
painful.

“I could make you a poultice for that,” she blurted out
eagerly, the impetus to healerly solutions- and the desire to
experiment- overcoming even her natural reserve and shyness
for a moment. Immediately, though, she felt a flush come to
her cheeks and took a step back from him and closer to Derfel,
dropping her gaze - maybe Lancelot wouldn’t appreciate having
his injury pointed out in front of one of his men. Though
frankly, Derfel would have had to be a lot more than hung
over- more like unconscious- not to notice.









Tristan and Quintus

Tristan looked very much askance at Guinevere, perched before
Arthur on his saddle, her tiny, insubstantial skirt hitched
even higher by mounting. Oh, her thighs were mostly covered by
Arthur’s cloak now, but everyone had seen them, momentarily,
and now, the way she whispered with Arthur, her lips pouting
and curving sensually…Tristan was disgusted by it. Beyond
disgusted. It was not that he was immune to her
attractiveness- he was not, and he had felt a deep, sinister
twitch in his groin as he had watched her mount- but it did
not truly arouse him, rather sickened him. She, like all the
Woad females, seemed to wield their sexuality like blades, the
way their skimpy leather clothing bared legs and stomachs and
nearly, breasts- when they wore clothing at all, that was.
Just look at that Centurion back there, his eyes drawn to
Guinevere, no matter now many times he kept snapping them
back- he did it quickly, subtly, but Tristan noticed, as he
noticed everything. Guinevere’s very person exuded, to him,
the same aura of corruption as did rotten meat. As did rich
Romans, feasting in their villas and palaces. As did the Woad
in the dungeon, Neeria, whose breasts had pressed
unselfconsciously to his chest as she clutched at him and
screamed his name.

Damn women. And damn Woads. Well, Tristan was stronger than
that. He ripped his eyes away from Guinevere- nothing would
have induced him to admit that he had just stared at her far
longer than the Centurion had!- his upper lip curled in a
sneer, and once more opened his senses to their surroundings,
ever shifting as the group moved cautiously forward. Woads to
right and left…he had thought he had caught a glimpse of red
hair not too far away, and tried to keep half an eye on that,
while watching and listening for the rest of the group, too.
One thing he was sure of by now- there were no more than a
dozen of them, and that was counting the rider who had already
gone on ahead. A very small group, indeed. No wonder Guinevere
and Nolan hadn’t wanted to reveal their numbers.

The other thing that Tristan could take some small comfort in-
if comfort it was- was that the Woads did seem to be leading
them by the correct way to the village, at least if Neeria had
been telling the truth. There was the big rock she had
mentioned- and they were following the course of the stream,
though at some distance from it. For good or ill, it did seem
to add up. Of course, that might only mean that some trap
would be sprung on them near the village as opposed to far
away from it. But Tristan supposed that if Guinevere and Nolan
did intend diplomacy, that this was a good sign. If Merlin
would stand for it.

Tristan kept a wary watch around them as the group passed onto
a rocky, pebbly portion of the path, every sense strainingly
alert.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Starbelle
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 6:44 pm
Jols


Seeing the woad girl mount Casti with the Commander behind her
didn't sit very well with him at all. The only thing that
cheered the squire up at all was the look that Scipio gave
her.

Hopefully all will go well this time around especially after
the last time they went on this mission

Hearing all of the rustlings going on in the trees and the
underbrush all around them, he wondered just how many woads
were surrounding them.

Keeping Gypsi close to Quintus' mount to keep the Centurian's
horse calm, he kept looking around as well as straight ahead,
trusting and hoping that there would be smooth sailing on the
way to Merlin.
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golden_trillium

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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 8:28 pm
Titrus


Titrus had remained silent since the optio had given Bors and
him the reprimanding look. Even though it was hard for him to
admit, Titrus knew Scipio was right. The truth was, Titrus had
gotten nervous and somewhat claustrophobic in the wood. The
sight of the blue painted demons had sent icicles sliding down
the Roman's back. His response to the tension was his nervous
chatter with Bors. Of course, he now had his wits about him
and cursed himself for getting spooked in the first place.
He'd make it up to Quintus later when...no if...they made it
out of the situation alive.

The lieutenant watched Arthur, like the others, in utter shock
as the commander became friendly with the enemy. Titrus
watched the scene before him uncomfortably but hid his true
feelings under a stoic Roman mask of indifference. His
confidence in Arthur's leadership told him that Commander
Castus was smart and knew how best to interact with the woads
- much like Captain Barbattus. But the thought of touching
skin so intimately with one of the blue witches of the
magician made Titrus' own skin crawl.

The Roman looked over at Bors again but he didn't dare speak.
The look on Bors face seemed to say it all anyway. They'd have
more to talk about in the warm tavern, with a wench poised on
Titrus's knee and a tankard of warm spiced wine in his hand.

As the party moved forward, Titrus squeezed his knees, urging
Adolphus ahead. He looked over his left shoulder at the new
soldier, Brendyn, to make sure he was moving with them.

"What's wrong, Brendyn?" the lieutenant asked. Brendyn's brows
were furrowed as though something troubled him.
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 9:07 pm
Linnette


Mari
 
"He has very lovely eyes.”


That statement, made in a confidential whisper, leaning across
the table, almost stopped Linnette’s heart. Lovely eyes! Mari
thought so? Linnette, who had heard so clearly the reluctance,
the searching for a compliment, in Mari’s assessment of Neeve,
heard no such thing in her statement about Drake- whether or
not it was there. She just heard honest, straightforward
truth, a truth which she found herself only too happy to agree
with, though she had never thought such a thing of her own
accord before. His eyes were lovely, weren’t they? Sharp and
stern, but…a beautiful color, really! Linnette shivered a
little as she called up the mental image of said eyes looking
intensely at her, then laughed- giggled- in delight at her own
silliness. Being closeted with Mari like this, heads together
over their own private jokes and remarks, could make the rest
of the world seem far away, no longer worrying…but the girl’s
next words were more sobering.

Mari
 
”I think he would like a strong woman too-
someone...someone who could cope with life and not
grumble about it. I wonder what his wife was like...
poor man..."


“I don’t have any idea.” Linnette shook her head, back to
seriousness now, her brows knitted together in the middle of
her forehead as she reflected on that. Had she ever even asked
Drake about his wife? She had meant to, or wondered if it
would be all right to, several times, but things always seemed
to get awkward at the wrong moment, and she never had brought
up the topic. The only things she knew about Drake’s wife were
that she had borne him three sons, that Drake had found her
hands attractive, and that she was dead. Not really much to go
on.

“She died a long time ago- she didn’t live here,” Linnette
added by way of some explanation to Mari, as she snuck a
glance over her shoulder back at the counter where Drake
stood, drawn, somehow, to look at him, even though she still
didn’t really want to be noticed. They were…well, they were
talking about him, and it wasn’t polite. Even though she-
they- had the best of intentions at heart, Linnette certainly
didn’t want it known to Drake that they had had this
discussion. Or that she had it in her mind to set him up with
a woman at all. With any luck, it would happen with a minimum
of her input and he would never know.

“He needs someone happy, though,” she continued in a much more
subdued voice, turning back to Mari and once more sipping at
the wine. It seemed insipid to her then in that mouthful,
lacking the strength it should. Of course, it did- she had
watered it down by half- but it hadn’t bothered her in the
slightest before now.

“Someone who can…cheer him up a little,” Linnette made a
vague, impatient gesture with one hand, and swallowed hard
against the sudden renewed tightening of her throat.
Happy…cheerful, not moping forever and ever over something
that could never again be.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Starbelle
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 9:17 pm
Tatiana


Darya
 
“Apparently he was, yes……especially considering it being
winter. Do you hunt, Tatiana?”


"I did when I was younger, yes. I'd go out with my father and
cousins and help them bring back the spoils from the hunt. I
haven't as yet, but when I get some free time from the
stables, I'll prolly go out with Orion along with my bow and
arrows and see if I've remembered what my father taught me in
regards to hunting. Its been quite a while since I've hunted
there's a good possibility that my first time back out there
will be like being out there for the first time all over
again." She said to her friend.

"How about you, Darya, do you hunt?" Tati asked her curiously
after taking another sip of her ale.

Feeling the door open again, letting the cold wind inside the
tavern, blow the auburn curls off of her shoulder with the
entrance she just thought that it was another customer again,
so eventhough she glanced over to see who it was and seeing
that it was a male patron, she paid him no mind.

"The tavern is such a popular place to be at, Darya." The
stable-hand told the dark-haired. "It sure it is a warm place
to be in, though, especially since its cold but nice outside."
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 9:26 pm
Merlin


A knock at the door of the hut.

Merlin was surprised. His group had just arrived at the
village less than an hour past, and he had taken some time to
make sure that all was in order- that the largest group had
arrived safely the previous day and that the wounded were
being cared for- and then had retreated with Juna to his own
hut to return his things to their places- and, now, hers as
well, as she was to share with him from now on. He had
expected some privacy for a little while, before Juna would no
doubt be compelled to go back out and make her miraculous
rounds of the wounded again- but now the knock came, and
Merlin paused curiously in the act of hanging a bag on a hook
next to the door.

Juna, who was spreading a blanket out on the pine-bough bed,
looked over her shoulder at him and merely shrugged- she
didn't know, either. Well, it was no doubt important. Merlin
made sure the bad wouldn't fall, then went over and opened the
door- and was even more surprised to see Smith there, the
reins of his horse in his hand and the sometimes-inconvenient
beast nosing curiously over his shoulder.

"Smith...back so soon?" Merlin inquired politely, though with
obvious confusion and desire for an explanation in his tone.
He had expected that arranging the burials would take a while,
what with the hard ground...but, he realized suddenly, maybe
they hadn't been able to. Maybe the Romans had infested the
old camp, preventing the proper burial of the fallen by their
pestilential presence...Merlin could feel anger for it boiling
up inside him even before the fact was confirmed, even though
he knew that a proper burial was not worth the live of more of
his warriors. The Gods would see to the fallen...but not to be
able to care for them galled nonetheless.

"The Romans?" Merlin questioned darkly, now taking a step
sideways and out of the doorway so that he could see the rest
of the party. Smith appeared to be alone, however...there was
no one else in the group that had gone with him in evidence
outside the hut. Smith had ridden on ahead? Why?

"Are they coming?" Merlin asked in sudden alarm, his hand
going to the hilt of the knife at his belt- though all his
other weapons were inside the hut. If they had to evacuate the
village, too...Merlin prayed fervently to the Gods that it
would not be necessary, even as he was already beginning to
formulate the plans for doing so, his mind, as ever, racing
ahead.
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Nov 30, 2008 9:52 pm
Brendyn


He had pretty much remained vigil and alert to any strange
movements about them, and had all but ignored the rest of Bors
and Titrus's conversation, remaining only attentive to the
scene between the Roman Commander and the unearthly beautiful
woad woman, Guinevere. Brendyn had seen the Optio turn to see
who had giggled, and had briefly met his gaze, returning his
nod, before the Optio turned back toward the conversation
between Arthur and Guinevere. So far, so good as far as the
Peace Mission went, and that made Brendyn feel a bit more at
ease.... though not totally off guard. Even in a relaxed mode,
Brendyn was every bit the soldier he had been trained to be.
His deep blue eyes watched as Arthur helped the woad woman
onto his saddle, then positioned himself behind her. Brendyn
cocked his head slightly at the bravery and wisdom of the
young woman now seated in front of Arthur. He had to keep
reminding himself that she was a woad and an enemy, but he
also had to admire her intelligence and poise... almost to a
regal bearing....

Guinevere
 
“I would send my own scout ahead to camp.” “And if
Merlin wishes to see you, then we will know when we are
close...”


Arthur
 
“Of course, and I pray that he will for I shall not
accept ‘no’ for an answer…lady,”


Tyranus pawed gently at the earth as if anxious to get moving.
Brendyn always admired animals as they had keener senses then
humans, and he was sure the midnight black horse could sense
what was around him without seeing them... the enemy. He
thought it kind of Arthur to cover the woad with his cloak.
Though and enemy, surely she was freezing in that get up she
was wearing. Guinevere was truly a lovely woman, but then it
was a deadly kind of allure as well, one that had probably
cost men their lives in the past or so Brendyn guessed. After
the woad on the horse raced past them, Tyranus left out a
small nicker and nudged Brendyn's leg with his nose then
turned back to look forward, ears perked and moving to detect
sounds. Brendyn, too, brought his eyes forward and left them
rest on the male woad who had been standing earlier next to
Guinevere (Nolan), then the rest of the woads as the came out
from their hiding places making Brendyn ever more alert and
conscious of the fact that there were woads to the back of
them as well. His eyes followed one of the women who carried a
bow (Rosita) and came to stand next to the woad male (Nolan).
The woad with the bow seemed to fix her gaze on Tristan and
the Optio then she and the other woad turned to walk down the
path with out a word, but a glance...

Then Arthur gave the silent signal to begin moving forward.
Brendyn's eyes moved from Titrus to Bors, Jols, then Quintus
and the rest as he urged Tyranus forward with a gentle motion
of the reins he held in one hand. His other hand, then one
bearing the two slightly crooked fingers, rested on his upper
leg which was partially covered with his red cloak. He glanced
down at the stoney partially snow covered path. The horse
seemed to be doing well in traversing it, and Brendy gave the
black arab mix a good pat on the beck to let him know that he
had done well. Possibly an extra bucket of oats when they
returned. If they returned. No matter how beguiling Guinevere
looked, they were woads and known killers, and it still made
him a bit tense though he still refused to show it. Next to
him, Titrus was very quiet now and the young soldier wondered
what was going through his mind... though he could only guess,
but surely Titrus and Bors had been in more encounters with
the woads then he had himself. His eyes met Titrus's as the
Leiutenant asked...

Titrus
 
"What's wrong, Brendyn?"


"Nothing, sir....I...." Brendyn was about to reply when
Tyranus suddenly lurched to one side almost falling, whinning
as if in pain. He looked worriedly to the Lieutenant, and
tried to comfort his beloved horse. Frowning, Brendyn stroked
the animal's soft pelt and looked down over the side of his
saddle at the clump of stones that had been partially covered
by snow. He began to feel the horse begin to limp as if not
wanting to place weight on the front left hoof. He looked up
urgently at Titrus, Quintus, Bors and Jols, then looked back
to Titrus, "Sir, I think Tyranus is injured, or something. I
will have to stop here and take care of it... No doubt, it is
a stone he picked up." Stopping Tyranus, Brendyn dismounted
knowing there was no time to lose, and like the experienced
horseman he was, felt along the animal's side to check for any
other injuries such as pulled muscles, all the while talking
to the horse softly and in his native Cornish tongue. Slowly
and steadily, he began to feel down the injured leg to check
for broken bones and such, then lifted the left hoof so that
the bottom faced Brendyn.

He sighed as he saw the good sized stone wedged tightly in the
hoof.

Brendyn looked up at the back of the Commander and his woad
guest as well as the back of the Optio, then back at the
slightly damaged hoof, the stone very clearly jutting out from
the center of the hoof. Bracing himself, Tyranus leaned a bit
on the Breton as Brendyn reached into his boot and drew out a
small dagger he kept there for emergencies such as this. If he
did not remove the stone as tight as it was, Tyranus would
have a damaged hoof...

"Easy boy... we'll have it out in no time.." Brendyn
whispered...
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