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| November 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,053 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 20 2010, 02:39 AM Post #76 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Sun Nov 09, 2008 10:06 pm Ione
Ione's eyes turned from the healer who had busied herself with making the tea to the cold gray day outside. So much had happened in what seemed like a short amount of time, that it all seemed to her to be a bad dream. One part of that dream stayed with her in her thoughts, though...the sweet gentle feel of an unexpected kiss... the feel of fingers brushing her hair from her face. Her eyes turned back to Linnesse after the thought of going for a walk passed over her lips. It had been a long time since she had seen Titrus's daughters, so a nice visit would lift her spirits. Later, she would go to find Ian's grave. Sister Margaret knew, so Ione thought that perhaps the nun would come with her. There was a look of concern on Linnesse's face though concerning the walk, but Ione felt that she just needed to walk and get some exercise... after all, was that not part of keeping healthy while pregnant? Ione wanted so bady to ask Linnesse to walk with her as their destinations were in the same area pretty much...
As Ione came to stand next to Linnesse, and had told her of her intent to repay she and the nun for what they had done, The healer turned to her and shook her head, briefly placing a hand on Ione's arm. She could smell the black haw that Linnesse had placed in the hot water to steep, and sort of made a face. Even as a child, she had hated taking medicines.. some of the herbs were bitter and had aweful tastes to them. This was a necessary herb though that she had to take if she wanted to keep the child, so Ione tried to think of ways to cover the taste... honey, berry syrup, a sweet roll? The smell of black haw was just nasty... at least Ione thought so.
"I hope it goes well for the rest of the time as well... I have wanted a child for so long... " Ione gave Linnesse a warm smile. The smile disappeared when Linnesse ladled some of the black haw brew into a mug and handed it to Ione. Honey would have been great, but she had none, so Ione decided to drink the brew without the sweeteners. Cautiously, the weaver took a sip of the hot brew and wrinkled her nose, then laughed with the healer. The stuff was just bad and Ione wished that there was another herb that would work, but this was the only one known to do the job. "I am afraid I don't have any sweeteners, or anything to mask the taste of it," Ione laughed again, and blew a bit on it then took another sip. While she sipped on the brew, Ione's eyes fell on a stack of blankets in one corner of the shop. these were the blankets she made for the infirmary every year as they went through blankets quite fast... and most had worn out. The weaver looked at Linnesse as she pointed to them, "I make blankets for the infirmary every year about this time as they seem to go through them quite fast, and most are worn out, so I try to replace them,'' Ione smiled. "It is a charity I do every year... so could you let someone know in the infirmary that the blankets are ready, and that they can come by and pick them up?" It made her feel good doing something for those in need, and those in the infirmary had done so much for her since she had been a Badon Hill that she had begun to do this for them... |
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| golden_trillium | May 20 2010, 02:41 AM Post #77 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Nov 10, 2008 8:08 am Linnesse
"Of course- that's very generous of you," Linnesse remarked, eying the stack of blankets Ione was indicating with some surprise and, well...a bit of awe. That was a lot of blankets- and she made that many every year, for free? And she had just given that very valuable dress to Linnesse last night...Linnesse shook her head in amazement, and hoped that Ione's customers paid her well for her work. Well, they must, if Ione could afford to give all of this away. "I'll send someone as soon as I get back from seeing Derfel- and I'll have them bring you some honey, too, for the tea." Linnesse nodded toward the bitter cup that Ione was dutifully sipping at, thinking that surely that was the least they could do, given the weaver's great generosity. "Take care, Ione- and get your rest," Linnesse urged her. She took a step towards the weaver and enfolded her in a quick hug- carefully avoiding the hot mug of tea- and then stepped back with an encouraging smile. "I'll come by and see you again, soon," she added by way of parting, before she turned, adjusted her cloak around her, and went out of the shop into the chilly winter afternoon. It was a strange situation, the whole thing with Ione, and Linnesse turned it over in her mind as she walked to the knights' quarters. The weaver gave and gave, like a gracious lady of the manor- yet she didn't even know who had fathered her children. Of course, when one thought about it, those traits had nothing to do with each other- but Linnesse wouldn't ever have associated them, placed them side by side in her mind. It seemed incongruous to her- would not a woman who had been used and set aside by several men (or even set them aside herself) be a desperate creature, more to be pitied and helped than the reverse? Linnesse would have thought so- but Ione didn't seem to fall into that category at all. It was just...odd. Well, at the very least, Linnesse could ensure that Ione had some honey for her tea, and perhaps some time later, they could sit down and sew together- work on baby things, as they had said. Linnesse thought perhaps she'd make them without telling Linnette- give them to her as a surprise when she was nearer to her time. That might gladden her heart- maybe break through the sadness that always surrounded her these days, if only for a little bit. |
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| golden_trillium | May 20 2010, 02:42 AM Post #78 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Mon Nov 10, 2008 9:06 am Malcus Barbattus Malcus' lust was growing stronger. Looking at Catherine and her delicate features - her lips, her eyes, her beautiful long neck and soft hair - made it more difficult for Barbattus to maintain his cool. The beast within him wanted to roar. He wanted to take her, have his way with her. The captain saw movement out of the corner of his eye. For a brief moment, he took his gaze off Catherine and noticed the First Knight at the bar. Malcus also saw Neeve and the woad. "Hmpf!" he snorted and took another sip of the warm tea, turning his full attention back to the blond beauty sitting next to him. He was surprised to see the woman staring at him with a mischievious look in her soft green eyes and upon her delicate lips. When she spoke, her voice was husky. Was that need Malcus heard coming from her?
Malcus smiled wickedly as the blond leaned close to him. She smelled divine - soft, delicate, feminine. He felt her breath, subtle and sweet, on his lips. Barbattus' groin tightened again and his cock strained against the fabric of his breeches. Catherine touched her lips to Malcus' and lapped at his bottom lip, catching the drop of honey tea that was dangling there. Malcus groaned with pleasure. Oh, he liked her. He liked her a lot! She backed away from him, but stayed close enough for Malcus to still smell her. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, picturing her beneath him. When he opened his eyes again, she spoke softly, her voice still husky. Malcus watched the swell of her breasts rise and fall as she breathed, the soft mounds of flesh moving in rhythm. He wanted to place his hot tongue between her cleavage. Suddenly, she spoke, breaking his lustful thoughts.
"Ay, but my lady," the captain said, regaining his composure - almost, "We've only just begun. There are many things I can offer you that will be better that you could possibly imagine." Malcus smiled again wickedly and took her hand. "But enough of that here, hmmm? Why don't we go somewhere that's quieter where we can talk and ..." the captain moved his face closer to Catherine's and gave her a soft kiss on the lips, "get ...uh, comfortable...and get to know each other better? What does the lady say to that?" he asked, anxiously waiting for her answer so they could get out of there and get down to business. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:41 AM Post #79 |
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Author: Darya Date: Mon Nov 10, 2008 11:02 am Neeve Neeve inwardly rolled her eyes at Lancelot and Neeria continuing to bicker at one another but she didn’t pay too much attention to their words for her focus was on Vanora. However, the healer wondered how the Woad would hold up against a really upset Lancelot. Now with Arthur gone on the mission, there was literally no one at the fortress who would step up for the girl. And Neeve had no doubt that the Sarmatian wouldn’t hesitate to kill Neeria if provoked enough. Just too bad that she would probably be forced to at least try to stop the knight…after all, Arthur had placed the Woad into her care. The Briton hmpf-ed quietly and then gave Vanora a nod when the redhead sent a wench to get the food for Neeria. Good. First task fulfilled. But then…
Not what she had wanted to hear. Neeve gave the other woman a wry, slightly hagridden smile. No, the healer was not too happy about Vanora’s reply. “I see…and...you don't happen to have some of those abandoned clothes here, do you?”, the raven-haired mused and brushed a hand over her pale face, “…thanks anyway, Vanora…” Then the wench brought the ordered food and Neeve nodded her thanks at the woman before shoving the bowl and the plate with the bread a bit over…for Neeria to see it. Maybe this would stop the bitching between the Woad and the First Knight for now. The healer turned her piercing gaze to the Woad. “Eat now, will you? Before others do it…”, she said dryly and pointed at the admittedly good smelling stew…
The Briton finally turned around completely to face the First Knight, who seemed to be in his famous teasing flirt-mode all for sudden. Neeve tilted her head a little and put a hand on her hip as she regarded the Sarmatian. Old charmer, she thought and tried hard to keep her face expression neutral and cool. Yes, he was handsome…and he knew how to play. That was part of his nature. He had been good at that as a teenager already. Yet his charm didn’t really work on her. …okay, it did work on her…sort of. Sometimes. Damn him. But there was no way on earth she would ever admit that. Not in a lifetime. Sighing dramatically, the healer pursed her lips and briefly batted her eyelashes at Lancelot. “Very well…”, she then said in a rather deep voice and met the Sarmatian’s gaze directly, “…but better make sure to not get lost on your way to finding me…” Neeve smirked at the man before her as he continued to speak, this time honestly amused by his words. “Oh, you guys only got what you deserved, don’t you think, Sir Knight?”, she teased, quirking an eyebrow as she did so, “…and the way you’re looking right now, I’m very tempted to find another bucket of water. Just for you…” Neeve deliberately emphasized the last words a little and leaned a bit towards the knight. “And the…retribution, as you have put it so nicely…certainly depends on your behavior…”, the healer added, “…unless of course you want me to send one of the Roman nuns after you in my stead…” With that, the Briton gave Lancelot one of those half-serious challenging looks that they exchanged quite regularly. It had been this way all those years ago…and – as Neeve just realized – had not changed since then… |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:42 AM Post #80 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Mon Nov 10, 2008 3:53 pm Arthur Arthur had not led the small party but only a few yards from the stables when he heard the men already bantering amongst themselves behind his back. Arthur’s jaw clenched as he had no patience for that sort of behavior – especially today. His green eyes intensified and gloved fingers of his right hand gripped tightly at the reins as the main gate came into view up ahead. The Commander had had complete faith in Malcus’ chosen men that would accompany him on this mission; not even so much as flinching at the sight of a known instigator present among the group. To his chagrin, Arthur did not always remember all the soldier's names, but this one - Pretorius, he thought - stuck out as his 'exploits' around Badon were somewhat infamous. But this was no ordinary ride – no standard patrol or even a well planned undertaking of a rescue that Arthur might typically embark on where the behavior of his knights and soldiers would not hold any sway on the outcome. No, this was different. THIS mission was of far more importance – the safety of the entire population of the outpost lay in the balance. And each man that accompanied Arthur today must be relied upon to carry themselves with utmost diplomacy and reserve. And thus if any one man among them could not ride even two yards in quiet….. Arthur had set his jaw; mind made up and was just about to bring Casti ‘round to halt the riders when Amadeus’ voice interrupted his thought process….with another attempt at pleasantries. The Commander knew that he could not fault Scipio - the other man had no insight into Arthur’s methods of command or his current state of mind….thus as the Commander’s green eyes flickered to the Optio’s amicable expression, he met the other man’s gaze with as much neutrality as he could gather.
Arthur had completely missed – or had chosen to overlook – Amadeus’ possessive reference to the men. They were Arthur’s men. But that was a point to be reconciled at another time. “It is by God’s grace that I should earn and receive such respect from those in my charge.” Arthur answered with conviction as his chin slightly dipped in an almost humble conduct as he spoke. But that calmness was a fleeting thing as anger still commanded Arthur’s inner thoughts as he turned away from the Optio and wheeled his great white war horse around. He then immediately lifted his left hand to halt the small group. His side had twinged in the motion, but Arthur ignored the damn injury. He had no time for his own selfish pain(s). “I will not tolerate insubordination,” Arthur began with a firm tone; eyebrows drawn together in his annoyance at the behaviour of the men: Karl for speaking out of turn to a superior and Titrus for allowing it. Arthur would have a word with Malcus upon his return...if he should return. This behavior was not tolerated among the soldiers in Rome’s vast army for a reason. And while Arthur held a reputation for his leniencies….personalities such as Karl’s were dangerous and must be properly controlled. “Legionary Pretorius, you will not speak to a superior officer in such a manner again,” Green eyes sought the solder’s pale expression and locked on to the other man’s eyes. Was the man truly that unintelligent as to risk his own execution by insulting a centurion in the presence of their commanding officer? Impatience with the situation flared up within Arthur and he pushed forward with his decision to cut his losses with this one. Karl’s demeanor would certainly threaten a mission of peace and thus Arthur refused to take that risk. Period. “You will remain here at the fortress as punishment and I shall have a strong word with your Captain when I return…and pray that I do not punish you further for your insubordination upon my return – perhaps time spent in the stocks to allow reflection upon your behavior should I hear of any further misconduct. Is that clear?” Arthur stated in a voice that could shear hard leather and a commanding stare with fiercely green eyes that brooked no argument as well. His steely expression was very much that of a ‘Roman Commander’ as he awaited Karl’s obedience to his order. But he only briefly waited as Arthur still felt a pressing need to ride out…and thus he turned Casti back towards the gate and urged the great white stallion forward without so much as a backward glance at the men. The soldiers at the gate had already labored in opening the massive wooden doors as Arthur approached. He gave a brusque nod at the Roman officer overseeing the gate as he passed under the archway with Scipio and the rest of his men in tow. Arthur turned them west along the outer road knowing the direction they should take first….he would call upon Tristan to lead the way to the camp once they had reached the first mile post from the gate. But for now, the Commander was content to lead. The sky was a mix of bleak clouds and an accusing sun…the air cold and crisp and it bit at Arthur’s exposed skin as they rode. His chest ached and his cheeks flushed against the icy wind. His head throbbed and they had a very long day ahead of them yet….and if it be God’s will; they would survive to see the walls of the fortress again. “Tell me about your familial home, Amadeus. What will you return to once you have fulfilled your duties to the Empire?” Arthur asked with a small and genuine smile over at his Optio. If Scipio wished for pleasantries, Arthur would accommodate the other man…for now. And that interaction would keep Arthur’s mind from focusing far too much on what had transpired between himself and Lancelot this morning – both spoken and unspoken. And a child….God help him…an innocent child. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:43 AM Post #81 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Mon Nov 10, 2008 6:09 pm Jols Seeing the Commander halt the little group, he pulled back on Gypsi's reins to follow the unspoken command to stop. He heard the firm order that Arthur gave to the trouble maker and was quite glad that he, himself, had not been singled out in that manner. Being very careful not to glance over at Karl, even by the briefest of glances lest he risk the wrath of the Roman soldier, Jols lowered one hand and patted his mount's neck then gently tapped his bootheels into Gypsi's sides to get moving again when he noticed the rest of the group doing so. That should help Titrus and Brendyn breathe quite a little bit easier with him being dismissed from our group. I had a feeling that the Commander wouldn't stand for his nonsense. He thought Tayala After finishing walking the gray mare, she took her out of the arena and back to her stall where the young stable-girl removed the halter with the blinders and looping it up her arm to rest on her shoulder, she brushed and curried the mare's coat and tail out until both shone and were knot as well as snarl free then closed the half door of the stall, hearing the door lock click as it slid home. "There we go, Beauty. All taken care of." She said happily leaving a sugar cube as a treat for her. Walking over to the wall, she hung it up on the peg from which she removed it from then got down to the rest of her duties, she did see the brushes on the floor of an empty stall and picking them up, put them away safely. Occasionally chatting with another stable hand that she'd come across as she was friendly and could use all the friends that she could get. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:44 AM Post #82 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Nov 10, 2008 9:01 pm Ione The blankets , though many, had been accumulating since the beginning of the Spring which was always the time Ione started them. Not many needed blankets during the Spring and Summer, but then Autumn and Winter would approach, and that was when they were needed most. Even though there were times when she had been used, and abused, Ione always felt that that would never stop her from doing something nice for others. Yes, she could have gone about the fort with a bitter attitude, but would that have really gotten rid of those bad memories? Being bitter and resentful because of what or how others treated you.... Ione could only imagine how much more miserable her life would become then: people scowling at you, avoiding you, and basically living in solitude and anger. But there was so much more to live for: Friends, the beauty of nature, hope and peace, a good laugh....
Ione snapped out of her thoughts as Linnesse spoke, and she took a good drink of the brew, "Thank you Linnesse, and thank you in advance for the honey." There was a pause as she took another sip. "You know.... I could sell them all, and make a great profit from them, but there are some here at the fort who cannot afford such items. And the infirmary and the chapel can always use them..." She smiled at the healer as Linnesse stepped forward and gave Ione a quick but warm hug. Even though it was short, the hug meant so much.
Ione watched as Linnesse moved to put on her cloak, "I will only be gone a short time, and then I will rest." The statement was an honest one. Ione did not want to lose her remaining child. She waved to the healer as she disappeared out the door closing it behind her, and suddenly all was quiet except for the distant murmurs of people out and about the fort. Sipping the rest of the tea, Ione set the mug down and went to the window to watch Linnesse's departure. What had just happened? Had it all been a bad dream... losing Ian? For a moment, in the brief quiet of the shop, Ione reflected on everything that had happened. It would have been a dream except for the dull pains that made her body ache from all of the strain of pushing and tensing. Had it also been a dream then, that she had been sweetly kissed and comforted in this time by one of the most gentle friends she had ever known? Ione blinked as the thoughts departed, and she made her way to the peg by the door where her cloak hung. Opening the door, Ione stepped outside slowly, and closed and locked the door behind her... there'd be no business today in light of Ian's death and her grief. Cautiously, Ione made her way toward where she had delivered clothes to Titrus's family in the past. It was a good walk for her, though she much did not feel like talking right now. In a little while, Ione arrived safely at the home of Titrus and his daughters. Knocking on the door, she was greeted by one of the daughters with a smile, and was welcomed inside, and over to a warm fire... |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:46 AM Post #83 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Mon Nov 10, 2008 9:08 pm Lancelot The brow over Lancelot's injured eye rose several inches as the Woad girl - tiny thing...deceptively so, really...he could probably break her over his knee easily - tried to snipe back at him.
He opened his mouth to retort, but his gaze followed her small hand as it scratched visciously at her dirty head. A bitter, amused laugh echoed from his gut, and he moved away from her a bit...although never turning his back on her. Never turn your back on an enemy. And never do disservice to a true friend. Lancelot's father had taught him a few things in the short time the Sarmatian had been with his family. "I am not stuck with anything, save your presence in this fort," he answered, his dark smile drifting to an expression he didn't allow to cross his face much. It showed too many things - and Lancelot did not want this girl knowing anything about him. Even if it was only that he had a demon inside - oh, so close to the surface, and by the gods but it was hungry - that even Arthur could not tame. "You have an appointed guardian, and I am off to fetch him. Try not to pass your - vermin guests on to anyone else, princess," he added, his tone shifting to flat and dry, mirroring his face now. That monster he shoved away for others to deal with - not this girl. Not unless she did something again to warrant his wrath. Otherwise, he had no interest in her. Arthur was the softheart, not Lancelot. The Woads that resided within Badon should have been turned out weeks ago - and Lancelot hadn't been lying to the commander when he'd told him he'd follow his orders to the letter. Leaving the prisoner to her druthers, Lancelot nodded at Neeve, his features sharpening as she teased back as good as he had given.
Shaking his head, Lancelot leaned a bit closer to her as Neeve gave him one of those looks. She was a pretty thing - her dark hair contrasted with the blue eyes made her extremely different then most of the women Lancelot had known. And then again....all women were women, weren't they? Just as most men had things they couldn't let him get away with, either. No...Lancelot was a cad, and a lothario, and not worth trusting, and duplicitious, and a whore He shook his head again, feeling he had the look of a dog about him. "No more water, lady. I promise I will take care to see you later today. I'm off to retrieve yonder Saxon for your guarding pleasure." He smiled, but it did not get anywhere near the rest of his face. What a fake you are, barbarian dog. "And by Hadrian's balls, please, no nuns. I had my fill of the oh so charming one in the infirmary that would probably like to sever my head very cheerfully." He snorted, and rubbed his grubby, aching, bruised face. "Very well, my darling healer. I am off for Derfel," Lancelot couldn't help the annoyed sound that crept into his speech every time he said the man's name. "And I'm to bathe afters. I'll see you shortly." He touched the back of her hand with his long fingers, drawing the gesture out for as long as he could. His nails and skin were so dark and stained next to hers...and yet they both wore the sin of blood spilt. Turning, he quit the tavern, his sword banging at his side, and as he pushed out into the watery light of day, he cursed Arthur Castus for leaving him in the shithole...alone...most likely for the rest of his life. Two days. And then Merlin will see revenge the likes of wish he couldn't even dream of. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:47 AM Post #84 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Nov 10, 2008 9:41 pm Tristan and Quintus The Centurion was blazing with silent anger; that much Tristan could tell easily, just from the set of his shoulders and jaw and the way he had kicked his horse forward with a little more roughness than was necessary. Not that the scout blamed the other man; Karl was a bastard, and had been ever since Tristan could remember first meeting the man. Chicken...ha. A sudden movement in front of him almost caught Tristan unawares, and he pulled Tirgatao up just in time, as Arthur wheeled his horse smartly around and held up his arm for a halt. Quintus, a couple of horses away, was so lost in his black thoughts that he very nearly ran his mount into Jols'- but the beast had enough sense to balk and avoid a collision.
Tristan's lip curved into just a touch of a smirk, aimed blatantly- though out of Arthur's line of sight- at the now-sternly chastised Karl. Oh, he would get some kind of revenge for that remark about the hawk- but for now, he could just be satisfied that Karl was being abruptly removed from the mission in disgrace. Quintus, the scout saw, though his horse had half-turned, remained looking stonily ahead, avoiding Karl's eyes, almost as if uninterested in the proceedings, but all patient, attentive waiting on the Commander's steely words. But as Arthur spun Casti neatly around again and cantered towards the open gate with scarcely a backward glance, Tristan heard the Centurion mutter to himself as he spurred his horse forward again. "Knew he'd not allow that bastard to use me so." Or at least that was Tristan's best guess at what was said; the words seemed to be to no one in particular, and they were almost torn away by the increasing wind of their gathering speed. The gate flashed by, men watching from either side of ramparts and courtyard, and they they were out on the hard Roman road, the wind in their faces and a pale, wintery light bathing everything. They picked up speed as they trotted down the slope, Arthur now turning to Amadeus and exchanging a few words that seemed to be polite conversation. Tristan had little use for that. He turned his own gaze upward, so that he might have appeared inattentive to a casual observer, but though he scanned the sky, feeling suddenly the lack of the hawk on his arm or soaring above, he was still alert to what was on the ground, acutely aware of all around him. The small movements at the edges of the trees far back from the road, the sounds that indicated whether others were present- so far, Tristan percieved no signs of Woads. That was good, as far as it went- and the scout dropped his eyes once more to the road ahead, intent on getting all of them through this as best he could- which would be easier done now that Arthur had relieved them of the dead weight of Karl. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:48 AM Post #85 |
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Author: sabor ice Date: Tue Nov 11, 2008 3:36 am Alina
"You fell..." Alina murmured rhetorically. She had deduced as much. It seemed a rather silly notion, but the healer doubted Fiona purposely went around stabbing herself in the hand - then again, stranger theories had crossed Alina's path before. There were plenty of people out there that did things for attention, but judging from the way Fiona was acting, it didn't seem to be the case. The girl appeared every bit shaken over the ordeal. No doubt the pain in her palm was far from pleasant, but there seemed to be something more there, something deeper the matter. She seemed so far away. The healer shook her head to herself, dispelling the thoughts that would've led to her prying into Fiona's personal life. She didn't know the girl well enough for something like that. Although, the woman did tend to look over-analyze situations sometimes. Alina suspected Fiona was probably just suffering from a case of the nerves; there were many that did not enjoy resorting to infirmary treatment. "Well, we'll just have to see what we can do about this," Alina said, in a tone both professional and re-assuring. "Don't worry. It doesn't appear to be too deep. I'm happy you didn't pull it out yourself, though. It was good you came." Even the smallest of wounds were at risk for infection if not properly handled. With the sickness having just passed through the fort - and some still even recovering from their illnesses - the healer was not going to treat anyone precariously. "Sorry," she chimed in after removing the nail from Fiona's hand. Gently, Alina took the wounded appendage over the basin and cleansed away the excess blood. "See," she added as she worked, offering Fiona a small hopeful smile. "I told you it wasn't all that bad." She applied some disinfectant balm around the swollen opening in Fiona's palm and wrapped her hand with a clean bandage. She took away the soiled towel and faded crimson water, and washed her hands clean quickly, before returning to Fiona's side. "It should heal nicely. Make sure you keep the wound clean. And, try to be more careful now, alright? I'd hate to see another part of your day ruined having to come to the infirmary like this. One of us should be able to enjoy some fresh air this afternoon, don't you think?" Alina told her with a wry smile, and brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Was there anything else you needed?" |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:52 AM Post #86 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Tue Nov 11, 2008 7:48 am Ceinwyn and Guinevere The trees were large and imposing, casting shadows upon Ceinwyn’s tainted blue skin. The paint was uneven around her arms, thicker at the elbow joints, and her face? The Woad woman’s lips were stained a darker blue, but her cheeks still retained their natural colour. Pale silk, soft skin, but rouged by the bite of cold winds. Ceinwyn’s green eyes were intense, strong and penetrating, and perhaps that explained people’s mistrust of her? The woman smiled dryly at the thought. She had been young and foolish once. She had been naive and ignorant of Rome’s unsatiable lust for bloodshed. Ceinwyn smiled bitterly at the thought. Indeed, she should have known. As a child, she had watched her own mother raped and tortured by Roman soldiers. Her body had been dumped at the child’s feet, and in truth, Ceinwyn never forgot that memory. It caused a dark frown to cross her pretty features, and masked any beauty that once was... A small breeze tussled at the red matted strands of her hair, and blew them over her shoulders. She was impressive in her filth. Her hair was thick and lustrous, and her eyes glared green from beneath it. Her lips were full, almost pouted in defiance at the world and it’s cruel ways... The Woad woman followed Guinevere eagerly. Ceinwyn could move undetected through the undergrowth, and pick her way through the sharpest and most painful brambles. There was cuts on her legs, deep ones, but the woman did not acknowledge them. She grew strength from the pain. It reminded her that she was alive, and it was a personal penance for sharing her body with the enemy. Oh, she did not forget. She did not forget Lancelot and his crude hands upon her body. It caused a sharp twitch in her fingertips, and her eyes grew cloudy for a moment, bleak...before turning into intense anger. She had a passion for revenge, she could not deny it. She hated all Sarmatians with the same personal anger narrowed for the First knight, and if left alone with one? Her actions would be drived by unadulterated hatred and loathing. Ceinwyn had discovered a passion for torture. She thought about it often, in the depths of her troubled mind. She would slit a Sarmatian’s throat one day, and she would enjoy it. The woodland was thicker here, and Guinevere drew strength from its vastness. Guinevere had never seen Rome, but she had heard of its ‘prettiness.’ They said the city was made from gold, and that it reached high into the sky, offending the gods with its arrogant and never-ending ambition. But here? British land was not offensive, it was beautiful. Each leaf rustled gently in the winds, and Guinevere had watched the storms rip through the entire woodland, the thunderous rain and winds bringing the trees to life. In a blessed and most impressive show of sacredness. The rivers ran strong in this country, and the soil was moist and fruitful. Theirs was a great land, a temple for mother earth, and Rome sought to destroy it. Rome sought to rape its fertile lands and turn them into stone. Guinevere would weep at the sight of such things, at the sight of destruction. The fortress of Badon Hill had been her home for a short time...but it had not been so disastrous. Because Arthur was torn between his Roman and British heritage. Guinevere had faith that Arthur would choose correctly, or condemn them all to death. She had faith in him. Indeed, she would not admit such things to her brethren...but to see their whole country reduced to stone and gold? It was a travesty, and the gods would turn their backs on them all. Leaving them to drown in their own bloodshed. Guinevere refused to see this happen. Guinevere stood strong beside Smith’s horse. Her form was lithe and tall, undeniably strong. Her dark eyes were deep with thought, blessed with thick and lustrous eyelashes. She blinked up at the man, but held his gaze. Their party was small, but Guinevere picked him as her source of information. She glanced briefly to Nolan at the back of the group, but did not acknowledge him. No, not yet. Dropping to the ground, Ceinwyn’s eyes sought her brethren. Her expression was cold, unaffected, emotionless. She looked slowly to Kayley as she spoke,
Guinevere nodded. Ceinwyn’s tone was sharp, merciless in its opinion of Roman blood, and Guinevere looked at the other Woad. Her red hair was matted from the roots, and almost brown with mud. She would need to wash. But...appearing dishevelled worked in their favour. Many considered the Woad kindred to be savages, uncivilised, brutal...and Ceinwyn certainly appeared so. Her green eyes were fiery, passionate, but Guinevere was concerned for her friend. She was almost blinded by hatred, driven thoughtlessly by rage... Ceinwyn nodded slowly, listening to each word. She looked at Kayley, and spoke to her. Indeed, she ignored Smith’s presence because he...was handsome, and Ceinwyn was not interested in such things. She associated handsome men with her enemy, and it was a hard bond to break. The Woad had seen Lancelot’s charm, and fallen prey to it. She would fight alongside her handsome brethren, but to speak with such? No. Ceinwyn looked at Kayley with a calculated gaze, and offered a dry and forced smile. It bit against her lips. Oh, but she was bitter! Hard! She did not aspire to happiness, because she fell so easily into sweet hatred. “Then we must follow orders.” She spoke harshly, directly, and without any obvious opinion. “And hopefully encounter some unfortunate Romans along the way...who are in dire need of having their throats cut.” The woman’s voice was cold, and she blinked lazily at her companions.
Guinevere watched Smith spit on the floor, and nodded succinctly at his reaction. The woman’s eyes brightened and she curled her top lip back in distaste. Mona? The Woad bitch who betrayed them all with her madness and murderous attempts. The Woad Princess had been attacked by Mona, nearly killed...and now Mona was dead. Guinevere had not understood the gods designs for Mona, but the Woad hoped she suffered. She brushed a thin hand through her loosening brown hair, and blinked slowly at the man. Calculated. She wrinkled her nose lightly, and looked out towards the road ahead. “I care not what happens to her corpse. Let it rot.” Her tone was undeniable. She spat the words from her full and pouted lips, and turned back to her companions. Mona was dead. Another traitor was dead. Was loyalty so difficult these days? Was it held at a price? Guinevere remembered the woman’s attempts at the assassination, and shook her head bitterly.
Merlin and Juna? Guinevere turned sharply to look at Smith, and arched an eyebrow in amusement. Yes, she knew about such things, but for Smith to know? To enquire about their relationship? Guinevere was slightly amused by it, and a small smile started upon her full lips. The woman did not approve of gossip, not truly, but Smith’s question caught her by surprise. They had been speaking of orders, of treacherous brethren...and now to jump so easily onto the subject of her father’s private affairs? Guinevere had no true opinion on it. Juna was not her mother, and therefore Guinevere cared very little. She trusted her father’s judgement, and the healer seemed an asset to their kind. If she was a traitor? Guinevere knew not, but Merlin was no idiot. They had suffered traitors before...and if Juna played foul? Then she would come to regret it in the end. Ceinwyn had been punished for being a traitor’s whore...so Juna would have reason to fear, if her intentions were to be questioned... “Is there something you wish to ask me, Smith?” She asked, smiling knowingly at the man. Guinevere looked intently at him, studying his face for a moment. Smith was an asset to their army, a valuable and intelligent warrior...but she had not guessed him to be concerned with such things? Guinevere held his dark gaze for a moment, and her eyes were intense. She had used this gaze to gain attention in several situations, and they did not fail her yet. The woman was aware of her presence, and it was a good one. She commanded attention when she needed to. Turning away slowly, she glanced to Ceinwyn talking to Kayley, but spoke again. Slowly and in deliberation of its meaning. “I trust my father’s judgement. And if she plays foul for my father’s affections? Then I would not fancy her surviving particularly long. Merlin is no wise man’s enemy.” Guinevere looked back at Smith, and gestured ahead. They should not waste time, not truly. However, her amused smile remained, and she started walking alongside the male Woad. “You take an amusing interest in my father’s affairs, hm? I assume it is because you care for his wellbeing. Tell me, how is Merlin? Is he well?” Guinevere’s tone had been playful, amused, but it was now concerned. She had not seen Merlin lately. Did he curse her disappearance? Did he question her actions? Guinevere looked ahead. She did not want anyone sensing her worry. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:53 AM Post #87 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Nov 11, 2008 1:02 pm Karl Karl was pleased with himself at how he had visibly ruffled Quintus and Brendyn. And Titrus was a patsie, the idiot, Karl thought. The Roman happily munched on his nuts until Arthur suddenly spun around on his horse and faced them all with a stern look upon his face. Karl stopped chewing in mid-nut and knew immediately that he'd perhaps gone to far. The commander's deep pentrating emerald gaze found its way to Karl's crystal blue eyes. Karl almost cringed under the mighty weight of that gaze. Nervously, he looked down at the ground, clearly bowing to the alpha male, Artorius.
Karl jerked his head up upon hearing his name. Fuck me,
No Dammit!!I wanted to go on this mission! Whores of Badon, NO!! "Ay, commander," Karl said just above a whisper and lowered his head again. The Roman turned Brutus around in the direction of the stables, but not without glowering at Brendyn and Quintus first. The look on his face might have suggested "pay back" upon their return, however Karl remained silent. He didn't turn around to see the men head out of the gate. He wouldn't allow them that pleasure. Instead, he reached inside his bag and pulled out the flask he'd been waiting until later to sip from. The blond Legionary put the flask up to his lips and threw his head back, pulling a mighty swig from the leather bag. "Ahhhhhhh!" he said, licking his lips and shaking his dirty blond hair. "Fuck 'em. I'm sure I'll better serve the Holy-Fucking-Roman-Fucking-Empire by staying right here!" Karl chuckled and took another big sip. Now, all he had to do was stay out of sight while they were gone. Karl let out a big laugh. What could he find to do to entertain himself? He took another sip from his flask and headed back to the commons. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:55 AM Post #88 |
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Author: Darya Date: Tue Nov 11, 2008 1:22 pm Darya
Darya first arched an eyebrow at Tatiana as the girl finally had found her voice again. And then she could not help but chuckle briefly at her words. And there’s the next prey, the Sarmatian thought and shook her head slightly. No doubt Tatiana would fit well into Lancelot’s hunting scheme. She cleared her throat and met Tatiana’s gaze. “I wouldn’t say 'all'…but certainly on most females around…”, the dark-haired then said with a slight shrug of her shoulders, “…he’s a charmer, a heart-breaker…and a bitch.” Darya breathed a forced laugh at the last attribute she had just given her countryman…though it was so true. “But I have no doubt you will find that out yourself…sooner or later…”, she then added and gave Tatiana a faint smile. The girl would be an easy target for the First Knight should he decide to put his charming spell on her…of that Darya was quite certain. But she kept that thought to herself…
“Sounds like a good plan…”, the female Sarmatian stated…but then noticed that one of the men (Karl) was already leaving the group, which was still within sight, and made his way back to the stables. “Now what might have happened there?”, Darya mused with a frown and tried to make out who the person was. A Roman soldier, that much was certain. Strange… Shaking her head again, the dark-haired sighed and briefly looked at Tatiana again. “Maybe I’ll see you in the tavern then. I’ll bring this one…”, she said and nodded at the hawk on her arm, “…inside and then might go to fetch something to eat as well…” Another wry smile…then she once more looked suspiciously over to the returning person, giving Tatiana the chance to react to her words before she would leave for her room to find Tristan’s hawk a nice place to rest on… |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:57 AM Post #89 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Tue Nov 11, 2008 1:28 pm Galahad
Galahad was riding about the arena slowly. He kept a wary eye on Eyla, a little uncertain about her. She wasn't the normal type of whore one found at Badon Hill. She was rather intelligent, he figured, by the intriguing way she spoke how she could twist his words and leave him feeling like a fish -gawping and staring. He didn't like that feeling. He didn't like feeling like any woman was getting the better of him or making a fool of him. It hurt too much. When Gawain started to warn the woman about the horse, the yuong knight started to nod along, his brow furrowing sweetly as he peered over at her through the dust his horse was kicking up at a slow trot about teh arena. His nodding came to an abrupt, gawping end when Eyla responded - loud enough that he could hear her too! -
Furious blue eyes darted to the duo watching him. He didn't like them talkign about him as if he wasn't there - and he surely did not appreciate Eyla's comments about him being the unpredictable and nervous beast. He clicked his tongue and his shoulders became solid blocks of disgruntled tension as he trotted past the two. He glared down at Gawain - blaming him for encouraging the wench, and then fixed Eyla with a fierce glower too, turning to look over his shoulder at her as he moved around and around... He knew better than to think she was being serious about him being something worth fearing in battle. Galahad knew himself that he was formidable in battle - he had experienced enough of it to know this to be true. That he still lived was testament to his ferocity in battle. That Eyla would joke about it only served to make Galahad even more disgruntled.
Her cooing tone floated across the arena to him. Galahad stiffened and turned an accusing glare at the pretty woman. Galahad felt mocked and he felt rightfully indignant at this mockery. He slowed the horse though, allowing the beast to find her own easy pace around the dusty arena. As he passed Gawain and Eyla he noticed Eyla with her hand on Gawain's shoulder, and Gawain looking as if he were trying not to enjoy that closeness. "No." he answered her petulantly, all but crossing his arms over his chest. He pulled the light grey horse to a halt directly across the arena from Eyla and Gawain and let the equine shift and dance to the side at the sudden halt whilst Galahad peered over at the duo childishly not going near them - but sat there a good few moments just looking at them muleishly. "Maybe I want to be far away, hmm? You think of that? Maybe I want to be on my own for a little while? Maybe I ... maybe I... oh just shut up." he muttered discontentedly and slid down out of the saddle. He stalked across the arena as he blabbered at them, waving his hand around in mid-air to make his point, his frown even more dominating of his youthful features now than ever before. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 02:57 AM Post #90 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Tue Nov 11, 2008 1:48 pm Titrus Titrus cringed upon hearing Arthur's words. He should have sized Karl up himself and he mentally kicked himself for not doing so. Gods, he hoped he made it up to Arthur along the way. His ass would be fried already more than it was when Malcus found out. Titrus tightened his grip on Adolphus' reins and gently kicked the horses sides, nudging him onward as they made their way out of the gates and began the long ride to the Woad camp. Titrus rode in silence, pondering things, when his thoughts drifted him to Ione and his daughters. He knew he'd done the right thing in asking Ione to check on them. The lieutenant knew they'd be fine, but he couldn't help worrying when he had to leave the fortress. Titrus knitted his eyebrows when he thought of Ione's loss. How horribly sad it was to lose a child and then to be alone was particularly sad. He wished he could have perhaps stayed with her a bit longer. Titrus hoped she was okay and said a quick prayer for his weaver friend. He looked forward to receiving a new cloak from her upon his return, if he returned, as the one he wore was getting a bit tattered. The lieutenant looked over at Quintus. "I guess I fucked that up," he said, shifted a bit in his saddle. "At least we won't have to deal with Karl. That's a tremendous benefit. Tristan!" Titrus called out to the scout. "How many were with Merlin the last time?" |
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