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| November 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 16 2010, 03:48 AM (3,051 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 11:31 PM Post #106 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Wed Nov 12, 2008 4:20 pm Catherine Catherine was a dream. She was whatever a man wanted her to be. And if she was not that she knew how to pretend to be it. Sometimes it was hard to know what a man wanted, othertimes it was easy to know what he wanted but it was impossible to give it to him. The blonde was looking down at Malcus' eyes as he looked up at her, a look of barely contained lust and want in the dark depths of his orbs - Catherine knew that this was a man who wanted tenderness, who wanted gratification but he did not want her to be a whore to him. He did not want her to be a lady. He did not want her to be a whore. He wanted her to be familiar to him, and yet unclingy. It was her favourite role.
The whore's lips parted and her breath stilled, eyes becoming distant and dark as the soldier slid his hand up the inside of her leg. It was a promising touch, filled with confidence and the ability to please. Catherine let out a ragged breath as his hand slid downwards, fixing him with a saucy, frank stare. He took her hand and Catherine sidled in next to him, rubbing her shoulder and chest against him as they sidled towards the exit. The blonde kept her head down, laughing softly as if the two of them were sharing some prized secret, her hand was tight in his, holding onto his calloused appendage for all the world as if he were her constant lover. The door was opened and they went out into the mid-noon chill. Catherine shivered and daintily rested her chin on Barbattus' shoulder, smiling over at him sweetly, her free hand lifted to her chest to hold her cloak shut to ward off the cold. "Mmmm - it will feel good to get in out of this cold." she purred, nuzzling her soft lips against his ear. She gave a small titter of amusement and looked ahead of them, allowing him to lead the way. "Tell me, my Brutish Captain," she simpered at him lustily, "What is that you offer me that could be better than I could imagine? I feel I should warn you that I have a very vivid and creative imagination..." she spoke to keep his focus on her. It was all too easy for a man to change his mind about taking a whore once the cold air hit them and their sex-addled brains were given a quick blow-out. Mari
Yes, her offering was paltry - but the thought behind it was pure and wholesome. Mari had heard of people toasting to the fallen men - and oft-times when her father was in teh deepest of his despairs about the men he had known and lost he would lift his bottle and toast their memories. She had observed this and found it a most endearing part of her father. For all his faults he still had a heart, he still hurt. He was still human. The young woman sidled around onto the bench and leaned her elbows on the table. Gently she laid the pages down and looked at them, her fingers spread wide as she arranged them into some order. Linnette's fine paper she kept to one side, every now and then she would put her hand to the paper and smile to herself. After sorting the papers she leaned her elbow onto the table and propped her chin into her palm, looking about the tavern with wide curious eyes. There were so many people around - gatherings and groups. A couple were leaving the tavern hand in hand, a sight that made Mari smile. She didn't realise, of course, that the blonde holding the man's hand was a whore. Why would she? A curly haired man stood at the bar and seemed to be surrounded by a host of others. One woman was eating - another woman had the most bizarre hair that Mari had ever seen. For a moment she goggled at it and lifted a hand self-consciously to her own, long flowing locks. She pulled a few tendrils down over her shoulder and looked at the silken length before lgancing back at the woman with the cropped hair. It must have been an accident or something... something that caught her hair and she had to cut it to those odd lengths, Mari presumed with a self-satisfied nod and a considerately sympathetic look to the woman before continuing her perusal of those in the tavern. The curly haired man caught her attention again. Mari narrowed her dark eyes to try get a better look at him, wondering at his familiarity. Or maybe it wasn't familiarity but ... there was an odd sense of presence about him. As if he were bigger than the mere content of his body. It was hard to explain - had she been able to she might have called him charismatic, but as it was Mari just found herself looking at him like a dolt, smiling sweetly until he shifted his position. She looked away guiltily then. Mari saw Linnette coming back with a tray of food and drink. She sat up eagerly, smiling from ear to ear as the auburn haired woman came to the table.
At the smell of food Mari's stomach gave an embarrassing gurgle. The young woman gave a sheepish smile and placed a hand to her flat stomach, hunching her shoulders with an embarrassed giggle. "Oh it does! Thank you so much - it looks delicious. mmm " she murmured, helping Linnette take the items off the tray. She put the tray on theedge of the table and pulled her glass of wine towards her, eyes wide with excitement. She felt very much at ease with Linnette, very much her own person which was a first for Mari. Her grateful smile was beaming as she looked across at Linnette. She reached her fingers around her cup of wine and looked into it, gave it a sniff and felt a tingling in her stomach. She never had wine before. She had tried her father's ale and found it disgustingly bitter and left an awful after-taste. This on the other hand, smelled fruity, tangy. Slowly the young woman's smile slipped and she cleared her throat, looking at Linnette with humble brown eyes. She lifted her cup towards the other woman's, smiling sadly. "To Gedeon...." she intoned sweetly, unable to say anything more. Though she wanted to. She wanted to say something nice about him, something that would let Linnette know that she was sorry for her loss but nothing came to mind. For once, Mari was speechless. Galahad Oh she was getting a reaction alright. Galahad had come to the stable arena intent on losing some of the tension in his mind and body, but instead he found himself hounded by a whore who was teasing him, mocking him as if he were some kid! The young Knight felt rightfully petulant about it all. And Gawain wasn't making things any better by allowing the wench to hang out of him the way she was. Though, Galahad had to admit, the sight of her breasts pushed up over the top of her bodice as she pressed against the fair knight was ... well, delicious. But he resolutely looked away, scowling at the ground, a tightness about his eyes as the wound in his side protested at the jarring steps he took as he stomped across the arena. He butted past Eyla and Gawain, leading his horse behind him.
Boring?!! Galahad stopped. His horse continued walking, headbutting her master and sending Galahad staggering a few steps. He turned to glare at the beautiful whore, his wild curly hair in disarray. His horse gave a protesting scuff of her hooves against the packed dirt floor. He watched with wide, accusing blue eyes as the woman put her hand to Gawain's hair and the fair knight responded the only way a man can when a gorgeous, willing woman showed interest.
The young knight glared fiercely at the two. He gave Gawain a scoff of irritation and turned, still able to hear as his friend turned on the charm for the whore. He looked over his shoulder once and then stuck his nose up into the air, glowering darkly as he led his grey down the line of stalls to her one. He walked her in and stood there with his hands on his hips looking at her flank. He then walked to the stall gate and pressed his two large hands to the top of it, leaning forwards and looking down to the arena to see Gawain leading teh whore away. So he had told them to leave him alone, but it wasn't like he wanted them to go off together and leave him completely on his own. Galahad pushed away from the door and stooped to pick up the brushes he had tossed onto the ground earlier. He paused, hand lowered to the ground and frowned. He looked under the horse's belly to the other side of teh stall and then stood up. He looked puzzled as he peered around the hay-strewn floor and then gave an almighty huff of disgruntled breath. His fists poked into his hips again and he looked up at the rafters, his white teeth biting his bottom lip as he tried to contain his temper. Taking a deep breath he resisted the temptation to look back at Gawain and Eyla and instead started walking around his still-saddled horse, kicking the straw with his boot to uncover the hidden brushes. "Gods damn it!" he finally exclaimed, "OUCH FUCK!" he then exclaimed having kicked the stall wall with his booted foot. The Knight reached out a hand and clutched the stall gate, his other hand reaching down to cradle the tip of his boot, his cheeks flushed red with frustration. He bowed his head, curly hair falling forward over his pale forehead. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 11:36 PM Post #107 |
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Author: Elessars Girl Date: Wed Nov 12, 2008 4:48 pm Arthur Apparently Arthur’s question had caught Amadeus by surprise as the Optio turned wide and curious grey eyes on the Commander. Arthur only offered a mildly pleasant smile in return. He licked at his already chapped bottom lip and focused once more on the road ahead. The wind seemed particularly biting today. Solemn green eyes took in everything around them as they rode on. No movement beyond the gentle swaying of the bare branches in the trees that dotted the wintry landscape north of the Wall.
“The Senate you say? Hmm,” Arthur feigned a mild interest when in fact, his thoughts were not on Amadeus’ words at all, but on Merlin and making peace….and well, anything but the frivolous things Scipio appeared to want to discuss. Oh, the Commander had been the one to invoke dialogue as he had hoped the other man would indeed distract him. But truly, Arthur was as uninterested in Scipio’s villa as he was in fancy jewelry or fine linens. Arthur caught a few snatches of the talk being exchanged among the small group of men riding just behind him, and thankfully it was nothing troublesome. Cutting the brash Pretorius from their ranks before riding out would no doubt prove to be a wise decision Arthur thought to himself – even as his eyes canted over to Scipio as the other man rambled on about ‘home’.
“Then you are a true native to Britain, something that we hold in common,” Arthur commented with an arched brow over at his fellow Roman officer; smiling despite the sentiment not quite reaching his green eyes. Under different circumstances, the two men might have studied and played together as boys. But Arthur’s childhood had been anything but typical for the son of a military commander. Not when his father had died in battle while Arthur was only a few summers old…and then the loss of his beloved mother by the time he was ten.
Arthur’s lips formed a thin line and something dark and shadowy crept into his placid green eyes. His grip tightened on the leather reins in his hand. His mount must have sensed the change in his master’s emotional armour as the animal released a firm snort and tousled his great mane in mild distraction despite the steady pace of the ride. It is a family tradition – and it is my destiny.
Uther Castus. The Great Warlord. The man whose brilliant military record had always cast a shadow over his son’s, yet had also been the driving force behind Arthur’s own rise in the ranks of the Roman Army. Uther had commanded the first of the Sarmatian Ala in Britain. And Arthur had taken his father’s Sarmatian cavalry one step further by making them his knights and embracing them as brothers…..and forming the now renowned ‘round table’. What would the elder Castus think of that? “Then obviously, your father must have been as noble and magnanimous as my own,” Arthur spoke the icy words over the chilly midday wind and not without a hint of derision toward the ‘legend’ that was Uther Castus. Arthur had grown up both prideful in his father’s accomplishments and sorrowful at not knowing the man behind the deeds. And how was it this man’s father had known Uther when Arthur had not? Had Amadeus? Arthur never truly knew his father because he never had enough time…..Uther had been taken from this world early on in his young son’s life. A flicker of envy passed through the emerald shades of Arthur’s eyes as he once again looked along the road ahead. “So tell me, Amadeus Scipio….how was it that your father knew mine? Did he also serve in the Roman army?” Arthur asked evenly; his curiosity at last engaged by the direction of conversation between he and Amadeus. And perhaps Arthur had at last found some common ground with this prim and proper Roman officer riding at his side. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 11:38 PM Post #108 |
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Author: Starbelle Date: Wed Nov 12, 2008 7:38 pm Tayala
Hearing a slight scuffle then a few angry words coming quite loudly in the near quiet stable from a stall just down the way, Tayala excused herself from her new friend and their conversation to see if there was something that she could do to help. "Excuse me, sir. Is there something that I could perhaps help you out with?" She asked polietly coming over to stand in front of the stall that Galahad was sort of oddly standing/ leaning against the door with his horse standing in the center with its tack still on it. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 11:40 PM Post #109 |
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Author: LadyCastus Date: Wed Nov 12, 2008 9:06 pm Malcus Barbattus She liked it. Catherine liked the way Malcus touched her. That encouraged him and he smiled. If she liked that, he felt confident she would like other things also. Catherine held Malcus' hand as they made their way to the tavern exit. They were closely tucked together, as happy lovers might have been. Another place and time, maybe The captain was surprised at Catherine's height. She was much taller than he'd earlier imagined as she pressed her thin frame close to his. She placed her chin on Barbattus' shoulder and the captain lowered his head and kissed her softly on her forehead. The cold air smacked both of them as they stepped out into the light of day. Catherine clutched at her cloak to keep it closed and attempt to stay warm while Malcus' balls crawled back up into his stomach from the frigid temperature. "Come closer to me," he said as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her toward him even more. "Perhaps I can offer you the warmth of my body," he chuckled as he felt a tear welling up in his left eye from the cold air. Catherine lifted her head slightly and placed her lips against his ear.
"Indeed it will, my lady. We will be there soon. It's just up ahead there," he said as they made their way quickly.
Her voice was full of lust and immediately Malcus forgot the cold. Much to his delight, his groin began to stretch again. "Now my fair maiden, I could tell you what it is, 'tis true. But perhaps it might be better to show you instead," Malcus paused a moment to let that sink in. Barbattus smiled and stopped walking, looking down at the blond, green-eyed wonder. Malcus turned to face Catherine, then looked around quickly to make sure there were no witnesses. When he was convinced the coast was clear, he pulled the woman close to him, slightly pushing his hips forward to meet hers. He positioned himself so he fitted nicely between her body's vee. He hoped she felt his erection. It would have been impossible to miss. "Tell me Catherine - yes, I know your name too - have you ever felt such pleasure that all of your six senses have been stimulated simultaneously? Hmmmm?" he asked as he slightly moved his hips. "And the pleasure you felt was so overwhelming that your body went numb and you feared losing consciousness?" Malcus smiled and his eyes twinkled. "Now, my lady, can you imagine that? If so, we must hurry!" Titrus
Tristan's voice floated in the wind to Titrus' ears. "Shit. Guinevere? Shit," Titrus said. Guinvere was trouble. She'd lived among them and knew the lay out of the fortress. She could tell Merlin of any weaknesses she may have detected. She probably had something to do with that woad child escaping. It wouldn't have surprised the Roman. Guinvere was conniving, smart and calculating. Titrus wasn't sure who the lieutenant was that Tristan refered to but he did remember a man very close to Merlin when he, Titrus, had faced the woads before with Captain Barbattus. Maybe he was the same.
Titrus was glad to see Quintus coming out of his funk. "Oy," he shouted over to the centurion. "Some of those crazy bitches fight naked too, didya know that?" the lieutenant shot a glance over at Quintus, hoping maybe he'd get a reaction to further help the man forget about Karl and lift his spirits. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 11:42 PM Post #110 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Wed Nov 12, 2008 9:25 pm Linnette
"To Gedeon." Linnette near-whispered the words; she found she couldn't force them any louder around the lump in her throat, and they were very nearly drowned out by the soft click of her cup against Mari's, not to mention the other ambient noise in the tavern. To Gedeon. Her beloved, so vey missed Gedeon, whose absence had left a hole in her heart. It was fitting that they honor him this way, and Linnette held the image of him in her mind as she solemnly tilted the cup and let the fragrant wine touch her lips. A bare sip- that was all she took, and as it slid down, squirming its way past the congestion of sadness, Linnette sighed and dropped her eyes to some point around Mari's shoulder, though she was not looking at anything in particular. She said nothing- she could not think of anything to say, and it seemed Mari couldn't, either. What good could words do, anyway? Linnette merely sat there in melancholy for a long moment, turning over thoughts of Gedeon in her head, and praying to God and all the saints for this portrait to come out right- so that even one day when the thoughts were no more, or dimmed, she would have that. Finally, though, conscious that the silence between them was stretching into the worrisome, Linnette roused herself, stirring in her chair, sitting up straighter, and once more looking up. Her lips turned up into a brave smile that did not reach her sad eyes- but she set the cup down and efficiently reached for bread, which she broke in two, passing one half to Mari, indicating to the girl that it was all right to eat. Linnette hadn't missed the gurgle of her stomach when she had first arrived with the tray- she must be ravenous. Linnette picked up her knife and tackled the meat next, her movements a little awkward as she tried to place as little strain as possible on her still-painful left hand. She managed it, though, and once more passed the first piece over to Mari, all very polite, gracious hostess. "What happened to your hand?" she asked curiously, nodding to indicate Mari's bandaged hand that seemed, in odd coincidence, to mirror her own. And Drake's, for that matter. Strange that she and two people of her acquaintance should have so similar an injury…but for all her wondering, Linnette asked the question mainly as a way to break the silence. Break it with something harmless, something that turned the focus to Mari and was not, she devoutly hoped, a cause for more sadness. |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 11:43 PM Post #111 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Wed Nov 12, 2008 9:34 pm Brendyn A bit ahead of Tyranus, the soldier saw Titrus, Tristam and Quintus talking....and Arthur and the Optio. Bors had remained silent which was not the norm for him... but then Brendyn knew very little about those that were on the mission. He figured it was time to ask some questions that had been gnawing at him since Karl was Left behind at the fort. Even though they had never met, karl had immediately taken a dislike to Brendyn. No, the man did not have to say much... only a look got the point across. Brendyn hated not knowing why one took a dislike in the other .... he was sure everyone had had the same experience. Being disliked for no real reason.. except maybe to make the other look more superior to the other? Was that it? Moving his black arab mix a bit closer to the Lieutenant and the Centurion, Brendyn cleared his throat then asked to which ever would answer his question, "Why did Karl...I mean everyone seemed to automatically dislike him... he did not even bother getting to know me, and immediately, he took a disliking to me. Why is that?" He did not want to stir up trouble, but it did bother him a bit as to why... |
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| golden_trillium | May 21 2010, 11:45 PM Post #112 |
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Author: Darya Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 3:59 am Neeve Neeve furrowed her brow when she noticed Neeria practically descending on the bowl of stew and the bread the tavern wench had delivered. It appeared the Woad had not eaten for days or so. Or she had ignored the food – which certainly was not exactly tasty – given to her in the dungeons. Well, the food now would at least help the healing process of Neeria’s injury…as it would give the girl some strength. “Easy, girl…”, the raven-haired murmured at Neeria, “…no one’s gonna steal that from you now that you have claimed it…” Then she puffed out a breath and focused on Lancelot again…
Neeve twisted her mouth in honest amusement. She knew how to tease the First Knight…and since that was his game, too…it usually was bittersweet entertainment. “I see we understand each other…”, the healer just said with an impish sparkling in her crystal-blue eyes. “And always keep my…retribution…in mind. In case you do not show up again…”, the Briton added while briefly lowering her gaze to the Sarmatian’s fingers on the back of her hand before glancing up at him from underneath her eyelashes once more. Then the knight turned and went to exit the tavern. Neeve could not help but smirk slightly and shook her head while watching him leave. Oh, he would return to let her check on his injuries. Because he certainly knew that she would send a nun otherwise… A well-working weapon to use against most Sarmatians if they decided to be stubborn again. Neeve just sometimes wished there would be a similar effective leverage against Arthur. Roman nuns didn’t exactly 'scare' him… And when the healer was about to turn towards Vanora and Neeria again, she noticed newcomers in the tavern. Linnette was there…and another girl whose name she couldn’t recall. A young, dark-haired thing. A corner of Neeve’s mouth twitched slightly…but then Vanora had her full attention again…
Ah, so there was hope! “Adian…”, the Briton speeded the carpenter on his way as he moved to leave the tavern, too. She gave him a nod as well…while her mind processed what Vanora had just said. Perhaps it would be the best to give the tavern manager a few more details about Neeria before the redhead decided to adopt the Woad in the end. “Vanora…I have the order to not leave Neeria out of my sight…”, the healer stated. At least not until Derfel shows up, she added in thought. “She is…not exactly a guest of honour at this Fort…”, Neeve then said, if a bit stagnant while eyeing the still munching Woad for a moment, “…so she won’t go anywhere without me. But I would be very grateful if we could come to your house and find her some more fitting clothes…” With that, she gave Vanora a half-smile before glancing at Neeria to watch her reaction to this latest development… Darya
Darya chuckled briefly as she watched the soldier coming closer…and passing them right into the stables. Apparently he hadn’t even noticed them. Perhaps a good thing. And when the man rode by, she indeed recognized Karl. Why am I not surprised?, the Sarmatian thought and arched an eyebrow as her dark gaze followed rider and horse until they disappeared in one of the stalls. “Yep…it’s definitely him. Karl is his name and he is so not a nice company to have around”, the dark-haired then replied and gave Tatiana a meaningful look. “Watch out when you happen to be near him. He is unpredictable…and not in a good way…”, she added and sniffed quietly. There wasn’t much more she could tell Tatiana about this particular Roman. She didn’t know him very well and that was probably a good thing. No, not probably. Certainly. From the corner of her eyes, the female Sarmatian then noticed Mirtha approaching the stables…also entering them without any greeting. Darya pursed her lips. The stablemaster wasn’t exactly a cheery company either. He and Karl should get along with one another quite well. Yet she knew that at least Mirtha had a rather nice side about him. At least when a conversation’s topic was about horses…
“Well…or maybe I’ll just accompany you to the tavern first and get my new feathered friend some meat before I take her to my room…”, Darya mused and gestured into the tavern’s direction, “…she looks hungry to me.” The Sarmatian smiled wryly and then stared to walk. “You coming?”, she asked Tatiana but continued to move towards the tavern… |
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| golden_trillium | May 22 2010, 12:29 AM Post #113 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 7:36 am Quintus and Tristan
"Aye." That did draw Quintus out; his lip twitched into a shadow of a remembered leer at the mental image. That had been a sight, the first time he had seen it- and it was something that a man never really got used to. Naked women snarling and waving swords...it was like something out of a bizarre, drunken dream. "They're all too skinny, though...no flesh on 'em. Like sticks," the Centurion added reflectively, shaking his head and dropping his eyes to his horse's neck in front of him as he remembered. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Tristan's head nod in agreement, his braids swinging forward and back. "You think so too?" Quintus straightened up, aiming the question at the scout. Tristan talked so little in company, and especially not about frivolous things like women, that Quintus was rather surprised that he had reacted at all- and he was curious and amused at the prospect of the silent scout holding forth on his opinions about the female of the species. That would be something to share with his fellows when he got back- a story to make them laugh, and to satisfy their curiosity, too. Quintus had known more than a couple of soldiers who had actually thought that Arthur's best scout was mute, and communicated with the Commander by some arcane system of signs, until one day, perhaps months into their service, they had been privileged to hear him speak. Now, Tristan took a breath, his face thoughtful, and seemed about to say something...when there was a closer jingle of bridle from behind Quintus and Titrus, and Brendyn's rather nervous voice broke in instead.
Immediately, Quintus broke into a laugh- a sharp, brief one, but a laugh nonetheless. Brendyn was such an innocent, he was...a promising man, but an innocent as yet. "Karl don't like anyone, Bren." Quintus tossed the words casually over his shoulder. "He's a bastard, that's all. Best to stay out of his way." Quintus added that in a fatherly tone, hoping Brendyn would take the advice to heart. Karl would eat Brendyn alive, given half a chance. |
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| golden_trillium | May 22 2010, 12:30 AM Post #114 |
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Author: Eledhwen Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 1:24 pm Bors Bors trotted along quietly, bringing up the rear of the small cavalcade, thoughtful for once instead of loud and obnoxious. He had been saying goodbye to Vanora, and so had missed the exchange between Karl and Arthur. It was his farewell to his woman which kept him quiet. She had seemed a bit preoccupied, and while Bors wasn't the most sensitive of the male species, he didn't like it when the mother of his children wasn't happy. She probably didn't like the fact that he was going out again so soon after his injury. But then she should know by now that Bors wasn't a man to be kept locked up inside for long. He had to be out, doing what he was born to do, fighting, killing, drinking, more fighting... He shrugged. She'd get over it. When they got back he'd make it up to her. Grinning at the thought of what that might involve, he kicked his mount on so that he just caught the tail end of the conversation centered around Karl.
"Ha!" Bors barked, grinning at Brendyn. "Ain't that the truth!" He, along with probably most of the population of the fort, had taken an instant dislike to the man. At first he thought it was just because he was a Roman, but now he knew better... he was a Roman and a total tosser. "Anyway, what was that about naked women?" he threw at the small company in general. "That's far more interestin' than talkin' about that ugly bastard!" |
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| golden_trillium | May 22 2010, 12:32 AM Post #115 |
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Author: Unicorn Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 2:12 pm Mirtha
Suddenly Mirtha's head snapped into the direction of a voice and frowned seeing a Roman soldier, Karl exiting one of the stalls. What did he want now?
A frown deepened, but still Mirtha stayed silent. Don't feel so bad? Kiched ass? Did the man think that Mirtha had only one problem in his life. He had tones of problems!! He just oppened his mouth to say that Karl knew shit about him and that he was not in the mood to hear about Karls' problems! ....the flask. Mirtha caught it and looked at it with a frown still.
Stablemaster shook his head slowly, a smile appeared. He took large gulp of the liquid inside. He cleared his throat and put a back of his hand to his mouth. "Strong..." he murmured, taking another sip of it. "Good."
Mirtha walked over the manand passed the flask to the Roman. He leaned over a wall near the place Karl was sitting. "I might have some more bottles of something fucking good.." he said and pointed a finger to the stall where his horse stood. "But I warn you. Don't start telling me about your fucking problems.. I have a lot of my own" |
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| golden_trillium | May 22 2010, 12:34 AM Post #116 |
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Author: Pinkie Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 3:56 pm Amadeus
Yes, Castus, the Senate of Rome. Amadeus thought with smug pomp. See how ancient and how elevated my blood is... Amadeus gave a small nod his head, looking humble despite the barbed words that stuck in his throat. He said no more on it though, instead leaving it to Arthur to stew on the words for surely he would! Surely the Roman Commander would be interested in a man whose family home was once the Senate of Rome! Surely... but surely it was only someone who had a mind like Amadeus' would actually care about a history so far in the past that few knew it this day. To Amadeus Scipio, a man of ancient nobility, such things were infinitely important. And he assumed everyone thought from his frame of reference.
Arthur's expression was somewhat surprised, Amadeus thought. He gave yet another smiling inclination of his head and lifted a hand to push his loose, black hair back from his forehead. He looked entirely Roman - his overbearing nose, his tanned skin, his sinewy frame all spoke of a healthy, well-educated Roman male - and yet yes he was British. As British as Arthur Castus was save that he had been civilized by many years spent in Rome. Unlike Castus who was sullied by the taint of Sarmatian slaves-turned-knights.
The Optio could not discern the chilly look and for a moment he was stumped by the icy, almost snide tone that Arthur used when speaking of his own father. The young Optio frowned a little and hid his confusion by leaning down to tug a strap of his saddle tighter to the opposite side of where Arthur sat. Such a tone was entirely uncalled for, Amadeus thought - and he could not place where this animosity came from. Nor did he want to show ignorance by admitting such. When he sat up again he gave Arthur a wispy looking smile before responding, feeling guarded just as Arthur began to feel a kinship. "My father was a great man. But he was no legend ... like Uther Castus." at the mentioning of his father's name, Amadeus looked towards Arthur for a reaction, trying to discover where this atmosphere came from... "He was a wealthy land-owner actually. He had many dealings with Badon Hill before you were born and he was so greatly impressed with the man who is your father, that he told me tales of his greatness when I was a boy." Amadeus grinned at the memory. Of course his father had had a rather cutting opinion of Uther in those final years when he had taken on the Sarmatians and saw fit to treat them like soldiers rather than the slaves they were. With an amused shake of his head, Amadeus rode atop his horse casually, looking at ease - depending on the eyes and ears of those accompanying them to warn him of any imminent danger. In truth there was a part of him that wanted something to go awry on this mission simply so he could watch Arthur's attempts to control things. Amadeus glanced over at Arthur briefly, his grey eyes flickering to the man's side where he knew an injury lay - how bad that injury was he could not tell, but he did wonder... "Tell me Commander... is it true that all who tried to remove the sword from his grave failed until you, as a boy, took it during a woad attack with the barest of efforts?" the Optio asked with a suspicious but amused voice, rubbing his hand against his wrist for warmth, his eyes intent upon Arthur's face. He did not know that the incident he spoke of was also the same incident that saw Arthur orphaned as a young boy. Galahad Galahad slid his lower arm against the wooden gate and then lay the limb lengthways across the top of it. He kept his hand covering the top of his boot as he waited for the pain to subside. IT would be just his look to have broken a toe in his little outburst and then have to suffer the healing ministrations of the vultures at the infirmary - and then to listen to the rebuke and lecture on hsi temper. So obsessed with his own woes right now, Galahad didn't hear Tayala's approach.
The young knight tossed his head back, his black hair whipping backawrds to settle quite attractively on top of his head as he peered with accusing blue eyes at the person who had sneakily approached him while he was not paying attention. She was a skinny little thing, Galahad thought immediately, cocking his eyebrow at her lithe form and the smattering of childish freckles across her nose and cheeks. "Who the hell are you..." he asked himself in a mumble, not recognising her at all though his blue eyes were peering intently at her. But from the dust and straw in her hair, the smell of horse on her clothing and the general look of 'belonging' she had, that she worked in teh stables. The Knight put his foot on the ground and hobbled back a step, irritably waving his hand at the interruption of the girl. "No. No there isn't." he said in a snippy tone, turning away from her and hobbling away two steps. He lifted his hand - "Actually..." a thought occurred to him and he turned to look at the girl running his teeth over his bottom lip as he wiped two fingers over his lightly bearded chin. "Actually... maybe you can." he said ponderously, still frowning in stark disgruntlement over Eyla's mockery, Gawain's treachery, the missing brushes and his throbbing big toe. The young knight plopped down onto an upturned barrel and started to pull out the laces of his boots, glancing over at the girl on occassion as he spoke - "I seem to be missing some things. A hard-bristled brush? A soft one - a mane comb too..." he said the words slowly, as if the girl was dim-witted or some such. Saoirse Saoirse was filled with an unnamed dread as she forced Dagonet onwards. She could feel the pressure he put upon her slight shoulders, but moreso she could feel the pressure he kept to himself, she could sense how much of his weakness he held back and how far he pushed himself. His injuries earlier on before this latest mission had had him so badly weakened - for it to be antagonised, coupled with a few more injuries and topped off with the crushing sorrow of losing his son ... the red head couldn't help but wonder if he would ever recover fully. Had the damage been left to fester too long? An uneasy, heated sickness churned in her gut and she looked up at Dagonet as they entered the baths. A greyish cast to his face spoke of intense efforts and Saoirse thought she must look rather dispirited herself. A tightness about her eyes and mouth spoke volumes about her reservations on this idea at all. Sighing, she tilted inwards, laying her head against the Knight's sturdy chest and shut her blue eyes. Her arms wrapped around his back and she huddled in close to his warmth, breathing in the comforting, if strong, scent of him. It was the first time in days that she had felt alone with him, that she had felt able to let down a few of her emotional barriers and just seek from him what she needed in that moment - contact. "I dont know where t'start." she admitted, her voice muffled against his tunic, her eyes still shut tight as she blocked out the world and it's scathing dose of reality, "I feel guilty fer bein' so happy tha' ye came back alive." she admitted that which scalded her very heart, almostforgetting their purpose in the bath-house, burying herself in the freedom of being alone with her lover, finally. Catherine
Indeed they did look like a happy couple dashing through the winter cold to the warmth of each other's embrace. Anyone looking at them might have been fooled by appearances - a handsome man could not have any other wife than a pretty one. Perhaps someone might be able to overlook just how pretty Catherine was and just how rogueish Malcus was. The whore did as she was bid,tucking in tighter to his body with a pleased sigh as his warmth surrounded her. Oh the wind bit at her still, causing her pretty cheeks to redden and her blonde hair to be whipped about her face, but it only added to her beauty.
Catherine gave a delighted laugh as the man pulled her around to stand in front of him. She placed a hand on his chest and was still giving a breathy laugh as he pulled her in towards him. She let out a groan of pleasure at his taking control of the situation, a groan which turned into a moan of anticipation, her eyelashes fluttering prettily as she felt the hardness of his groin pressed so wantonly to her own. Catherine immediately bit down on her bottom lip, playing the love-struck damsel perfectly. Her hand came around to hold onto the soldier's hip, holding him tight to her body as she gyrated her hips once - twice. A smokey look came over her eyes just as she shut them, leaning her head forward to brush her lips against his chin as he spoke words of imminent pleasure to her, promises of imminent pleasure! At his three questions she gave a shake of her head, no - with each shake she expired hard breaths of pleasure. When she opened her eyes she saw him smiling at her. It was a dizzying smile. For a moment Catherine could almost imagine that they were as they appeared - just a happy couple, but she knew that all too soon they would be customer and provider and that she would have to accept his money and what choice did she have? "Yes - oh yes." she whispered huskily, reaching down for his hand and tugging him forward, she trotted a few steps, encouraging more haste from the Captain to lead the way. |
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| golden_trillium | May 22 2010, 03:34 PM Post #117 |
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Author: Lancelot Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 5:44 pm Lancelot The First Knight sighed as he squinted at the sky. Cloudy, after the morning's rain, and chilly as it always seemed to be in Britain. What a lovely country. He rubbed at his arms, his leather jerkin moving with his motion, and he began to walk again, the fragrance of his own stink invading his nostrils once more. Perhaps Derfel could wait...but no. He had promised Arthur, and by the gods, but Lancelot would kiss Malcus Barbattus on the mouth before he would give Arthur the opportunity to find something amiss with Lancelot's following of his orders. That strange thought made him smack his lips disgustedly; the mere idea of letting that Roman near him - he laughed darkly to himself. Barbattus did not seem the type to seek beauty wherever he could get it. Lancelot didn't care where his pleasure came from; he just liked sex, be it from a round, soft woman, plump lips and juicy...or sometimes, the pain and hardness that another man could give him was desired - they fought equally for dominance, most of the time. That was a different sort of pleasure in and of itself. Except for one, and that one had almost always been able to be convinced to play the passive role in those few situations when Lancelot's love for him had spilled into physical want. And now ... I am a whore. A whore for my own desires, and fuck anything that deals in love or attachment. What do I value now? How can I possibly see anything but possession and pleasure in regards to sex? How can I admit that I might see something different - with him? Lancelot groaned for what seemed to be the hundredth time. He stepped up the pace, Arthur's damnable green eyes floating through his mind's eye, haunting his thoughts, his day, his body, his everything - and oh, lovely. There was Darya, the mother of Arthur's child, and another woman, one Lancelot had seen around Badon for several years. Hrm. One he'd not had nor even spoken to yet. Continuing his walk, he approached the two women, taking note that Darya had Tristan's hawk on her arm. Strange. And then he found his eyes - the injured one stinging yet - sliding to the front of her body, and focusing on her belly. Still flat. Maybe... A slight shake of his head; Arthur wouldn't lie. Not about something like that. And Lancelot again cursed that noble, pig-headed, idiotic straightforwardness and righteousness that seemed to fill every pore in Arthur's skin. Couldn't he have chosen to lie to Lancelot - just for once? Granted, Lancelot would have found out the truth, eventually, obviously - she would begin to show at some point. You care so much about this, fool. So, so much. Things are changing and you can't even see your truth right in front of your black and blue eye. He bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, and strode straight up to Darya and the other woman. Ignoring the state of his clothing, his face, his attitude, he swept a grand bow and then stood back up, resting his hand on his hip - if only to help the leathers stay in place. Who in the bloody fuck steals trousers??? "Ladies," he said, and smiled charmingly, allowing all of his teeth to show. "I trust you find this day relatively pleasant? I do have a duty to perform, but I thought I would be remiss in my job as defacto leader of Badon if I didn't at least greet you." He cocked his brow as he looked at the strange woman. "Madam," he said, his voice slipping into a low register, "I wish I had more time to make your acquaintance, but rest assured, once I am done with my orders, I will make it a point to look you up. I am Lancelot ap Ban, Arthur Castus' second and your servant." His gaze canted to Darya as he spoke; would she roll her eyes and call out his behavior? Probably. But Lancelot didn't care - he felt his bile rise again as he met her easy gaze, knowing that what she carried in her belly - a future for Arthur. Something he could not provide. |
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| golden_trillium | May 22 2010, 03:35 PM Post #118 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 5:56 pm Quintus and Tristan
That was for sure. Quintus rolled his eyes in agreement, as he answered the burly knight, raising his voice so that he could be heard over the whipping wind of their movement. Trees were beginning to flash by increasingly often; they were nearing the woods, and the Woads. "We were talkin' about the Woad girls- they too skinny, or what? Scout?" Quintus looked back at Tristan expectantly, eyebrows raised as he awaited an answer to his earlier question. The Sarmatian tilted his head to the side consideringly, his gaze into the distance seeming to imply that he saw a Woad woman out there- and was deciding how to cook her for dinner. "Aye," he rasped finally, returning his focus to the here and now as the horses negotiated a rough patch in the road. Quintus wobbled in the saddle, uncertainly, but Tristan seemed hardly to notice- only slightly readjusted the loose hold of his long, elegant fingers on the reigns. "I don't mind skinny, but I mind Woads," Tristan elaborated, his eyes on the other men as he steered Tirgatao around a half-seen, half-sensed pothole with his knees. |
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| golden_trillium | May 22 2010, 03:36 PM Post #119 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 6:09 pm Brendyn He had not wanted to barge in on the conversation, though the information he gathered was useful... or at least what he had heard of it. He had asked the question, not so much that he was curious but he had had run ins with the likes of him before, and wanted to know some other pertinant information: like why in the hell someone of Karl's audacity and calibure had a place in Arthur's Command? The man was just rude and disrespectful.... any sort of soldier would have been cast to the dogs back at Aesica. Antonius would never have tolerated such insolance for one tiny second. His answer came in a brief, short laugh from Quintus, and he wondered what had caused the laugh. To him, Karl was a serious matter: someone who liked others to take the blame for his wrong doing. Brendyn had been punished once for taking the blame for such a one, and it was a lesson he still carried with him... two fingers that had been broken once for the wrong doing of another. The fingers were slightly crooked, but every time he looked down at them, Brendyn was reminded making him wary of such people...
How anyone could go through life with nothing but hate as his ally was inconceivable to Brendyn though he had met such people in his time. He nodded his head, "Sir...I hope I did not seem weak back there. I have met up with Karl's kind before, and I just did not care to begin anything. All he wanted was to start trouble, and I was not going to give him the satisfaction..." For a brief moment he looked down at the two crooked fingers, and could not imagine what would have happened had he really smacked the rude son of a bitch off of his horse.... |
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| golden_trillium | May 22 2010, 03:38 PM Post #120 |
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Author: TwistOfShadows Date: Thu Nov 13, 2008 6:14 pm Eyla
Well, how delightfully chivalrous! Gawain seemed flustered, stuck for words, and Eyla pouted up at him. Her small fingers tugged wantonly at his braids, and she tipped her head to the side. Several thick curls of dark hair teased its way down her tanned arms, and she allowed a feline smile to touch her lips. Leaving Eyla alone was not wise...but then, there was always someone else to attend to her lusts. She pressed herself harder into the tall knight’s chest, forcing her breasts higher in her bodice. Seduction was an artform, but it did not always have to be subtle. Eyla was used to getting her own way with men, and today was no exception. She batted her eyelashes seductively at the knight, and enjoyed watching him grow nervous, unsure...how very sweet... She wondered how he'd behave if she offered herself to him...would he be shy and dignified? Or the sort of man to roll her onto her stomach, and take animalistic pleasure between her thighs? The thought caused a dark sparkle in her eyes, and she gazed up at him, dreamy, mischievous...
“Oh, you want my name do you?” Eyla smiled cheekily, and glanced down at his offered arm. Rather than taking it, she placed a firm and small hand onto Gawain’s bottom, and squeezed rather affectionately. She looked into his sharp green eyes, and feigned innocence at her fondling. “You’ll have to earn my name...and yes, I’ve ridden alot...but never horses...” Eyla threw her head backwards, and burst into a honeyed fit of laughter. Her eyes sparkled beneath her thick eyelashes, and she gestured the doorway. Where was he going to take her? She was intrigued. Indeed, she could guess at the stables...but she would grant him his illusion. There were many ways to impress a woman , but whores had seen them all... |
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