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December 2008
Topic Started: May 28 2010, 01:27 PM (2,125 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Dec 09, 2008 4:23 pm
Quintus and Tristan


Arthur
 
“Soldier, see to your mount…keep your weapons sheathed.
Quintus, gave him aid if required. Gentlemen, shall we?
With my lady’s permission, of course.”


“Aye, sir,” Quintus answered, his voice reflecting its usual
military precision- but not its normal volume at all. Even
speaking loudly in the presence of these savages- and in their
present mood- would seem to be a very poor idea, and Quintus
found himself very nearly holding his breath as he dismounted,
moving much more slowly and deliberately than he normally
would have, his eyes warily on the Woads that were visible the
whole time. The woman who had threatened Brendyn- she looked
like she could snap someone’s neck, and all jokes about
women’s nakedness seemed totally irrelevant now. She wasn’t
naked- and she was a killer. So was that man Nolan, for that
matter- and was that white foam at the corners of his mouth?

Quintus’s descent to the ground, snow and a couple of sticks
crunching under his boots, seemed unnaturally loud and
conspicuous to him, and he held up his hands, shoulder-height
and open-palmed, as soon as they left the reins, in a gesture
that he hoped would indicate to the Woads he meant no harm.
Well, no arrow thumped into his guts, no one shouted…so he
continued the few steps over to Brendyn’s mount, ducked around
it, and edged up to the soldier’s side, speaking to him out of
the corner of his mouth and keeping his attention firmly on
the Woads.

“Easy, Bren…need a hand?” A short nod over towards the
horse…though Quintus knew that if the problem was serious,
they might need to refer it to Jols or someone else more
knowledgeable than himself. Well, at least the beast was
standing quietly- that was something. Quintus just hoped that
his own mount would wait peacefully for him to return, too-
but with Jols right there, he knew that the squire would take
care of anything untoward, horse-wise.

Guinevere
 
“Oh indeed, ride on. I am merely your captive...”


Over to the side of the group, Tristan scoffed silently to
himself at Guinevere’s words. They dripped with bitterness and
discontent, but Tristan was glad that they were at least
somewhat true- she wasn’t going much of anywhere without
Arthur’s leave right now, and that was to the good. She said
something else to Arthur then, something much quieter, though
Tristan could make out the chiding tone even if he could not
distinguish the words. Woad bitch. The scout scowled at the
blue markings on her scantily-clothed skin, then turned back
to give the other Woads in the immediate vicinity a dark look.
A light tug on the reins, and he edged Tirgatao closer to
Brendyn by just a little bit- guarding his side from the Woads
in the woods while he and the Centurion sorted out the horse’s
hoof. And then hopefully they would be on their way. It was
damn cold out here- Tristan could barely feel the tops of his
ears anymore.








Linnesse

She was right- the infirmary was much warmer. Linnesse exhaled
on a brisk note as she stamped a little snow off her shoes in
the infirmary’s doorway, then once more reached up to loosen
her cloak at the neck as she crossed the big ward. She smiled
or gave small waves of greeting to a few patients and staff
members, but continued on her way across the main room into
one of the supply rooms, where the things she would need for
Lancelot’s poultice were kept. She would make that up right
away- and then whenever he came for it, or whether it was
Derfel who actually did, it would be ready. Oh- and there was
one other thing she had to do…

“Marcus!” Linnesse got the attention of a messenger boy who
was (conveniently ) warming his hands by the fire before going
outdoors again, on some other errand.

“Ione, the weaver, has told me that she has some blankets to
deliver to the infirmary…could you go and fetch them when you
could, please? She’s ill and can’t go herself.” Linnesse
favored Marcus with a motherly smile and her thanks when he
nodded his assent, and then continued on into the supply room,
satisfied that the task would be done. Marcus was a good lad,
she had discovered- reliable in his errands, and not too
cheeky- though sometimes so.

As she entered the supply room, leaving Marcus blowing on his
hands and then pulling his mittens back on, Linnesse turned
her thoughts to the herbs she would put in the poultice-
things that would reduce swelling, reduce pain, speed
healing…she had the list made up in her head and now began to
gather the ingredients, concentrating on making the perfect
poultice- and not thinking about the fact that the man she was
making it for might be a threat.

Was he? Linnesse shivered, almost dropping a garlic bulb, as
she remembered Darya with the knife- or even further back, to
Rufus with his fists. Rufus…and Drake, looming over Cassidy
and Fleur’s bed earlier today…Ione losing her child today, the
blood on the sheets…the garlic bulb dropped from her grasp,
and Linnesse blew out an exasperated breath and bent to
retrieve it from under the table. She’d better get a grip on
herself or she wouldn’t get this poultice made at all. And
Lancelot…well, she’d be careful, just as she had decided back
at the room. If she met him in the infirmary, there was
nothing to worry about.

Linnesse settled the garlic bulb back on the table and began
to chop it in pieces, making each cut as tiny, each piece as
precise, as she could, and letting the finicky monotony of the
task push more disturbing thoughts out of her head.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Tue Dec 09, 2008 4:40 pm
Isabella


Lancelot
 
"…..Who in the Hell is Lady Isabella Aracelli?"


Derfel
 
“Not heard of her……”


The guard looked at the Saxon and the Sarmatian, and fought
against laughing aloud. Indeed, this place seemed inhabited by
barbarians, and neither man appeared to take a pride in his
appearance. Ghastly! This was not acceptable within the Roman
Empire, and certainly not under the inspection of the Lady
Aracelli. The Roman’s dark eyes stared out from an ornate
helmet, and he tightened his fingers on his sword hilt. They
had ridden for days, weeks, and for this welcome? It was not
warm, and their manners were severely lacking. The guard half
considered seeking out another...barbarian. He glanced over
the Sarmatian’s shoulders, looking for anyone...but there was
no-one. It was entirely irritating! Where was Arthur Castus
and why was he not available for an immediate reception of
guests? The Guard shook his head, and spoke. “The Lady
Aracelli is the noble daughter of one of the most powerful
families in Rome, currently dwelling in Jerusalem. Follow me,
gentlemen.” The Guard turned, and walked back towards the
courtyard...trusting that they would follow...

The Lady Isabella Aracelli sat straight-backed upon her mount,
and her dark eyes assessed her surroundings. Basic, and blunt.
She blinked lazily through her thick eyelashes, and began to
remove her gloves carefully. What had her father been
thinking? There was dull, thick and square stone everywhere,
and the buildings were horrific. There was no distinction
between the wealthy quarters...and the lowly. It seemed
offensive to her pretty eyes, and she pouted her lips
impatiently. She glanced at a poor washer woman scuttling
past, and straightened her shoulders defensively. The woman
stared, and Isabella immediately felt uncomfortable. It was
terribly rude to stare, and moreso because she was probably
born in a barn. Isabella had had little contact with servants,
and only her Ladies-in-Waiting were allowed to look so overtly
in her direction. The Lady turned her head, and her jewelled
headdress chinked delicately. There must be someone here who
knew the logistics of this barbaric citadel, and could explain
why it appeared so...ugly. There was possibly richer living
quarters out of sight, out of reach from these peasants?
Isabella prayed it was so. She did not wish to write to her
father, reporting such negativities after her first day...

And Lord alive, she must dwell here! Here!

Isabella looked to the returning form of her guard, and she
lifted her chin arrogantly. His brightly golden armour was a
comfort. It reminded her of home...and yet, he was accompanied
by two of the shabbiest-looking men she had ever seen. Surely
this was not Arthur? Her dark eyes slipped down both their
forms, and she tutted her tongue loudly. These were slaves, or
poor men...or whatever. She did not care to deal with them,
and she turned an annoyed glare to her guard. Their mission
was of severe importance, and they did not have time to waste.
Isabella did not speak immediately, but rather slid her
remaining glove from her long and elegant fingers. This whole
fortress was a bloody catastrophe, and now she was being
forced to deal with savages. Perhaps they were both Sarmatian?
Her father had spoken impressively of Arthur’s cavalry...but
she had expected smarter men. Surely not these...wretches...?

“Gentlemen.” She cleared her throat, and spoke sweetly to her
audience. Lifting her jewelled fingers, she brushed a dark
curl from her cheek and forced a smile. It was tight, cold,
and she looked both men up and down with disdain. “I must have
an immediate reception with Arthur Castus. My father, the Lord
Aracelli, has sent important documents for his eyes only, and
I am to dwell here until ordered otherwise. It would be within
your best interests...” She paused, shrugging her shoulders
awkwardly. “It would be beneficial to us both, if you do as I
tell you...” Isabella placed her hand back upon her horse’s
rein, and felt the warm leather against her fingertips. Her
slippered feet poked out from the hem of her pearly dress, and
she appeared...out of place. Her elaborate presence was
foreign, exotic, and she could not disguise the foreign accent
in her speech...
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golden_trillium

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Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Dec 09, 2008 6:41 pm
Brendyn


Even under the tenseness of the situation, Brendyn did not
waver in fear, and stood his ground in what he had said
knowing that he was surrounded by woads who would love to have
killed every single one of them, because of his move to see to
his horse. As he stood his ground, his jaw stung from the good
hit the female woad had placed there, and his anger was
concealed well under the calm facade that he wore now. He
could feel the anger fading slowly as it had never solved
anything.

Anger only brought more anger and then more.

This was a mission of peace, and Brendyn had not forgotten
that. Even as the woads shouted their accusations and insults
his way, Brendyn made no other move to egg the fight on. It
was Arthur's command that he not do so, and he obeyed. It was
in this time that Brendyn got to finally face the woad on the
back of Arthur's horse, and he thought.... well what the hell
did he think? That she'd understand that his horse was in pain
and needed tending to? Odd thing was that IF he had made a
move of attack on the woads, three of them would have been
dead before they knew it... but they were all still alive and
standing. Antonius had trained him well in defense and attack,
and he was very capable of killing if he needed to. This was a
mission of peace and therefore, bloodshed was not needed. Why
would the woads accuse him of attack then? None of them were
bleeding severely, or lying dead on the ground. That would not
have been a sign of peace. Brendyn stood rubbing at his sore
jawline while the lovely though thorny rose in the saddle
spoke.....

Guinevere
 
“I am no Lady.” “Your man has discovered a stone in his
horse’s hoof, and sees fit to remove whilst negotiating
with the enemy. He has not noticed that we are
negotiating a fragile peace, and that he’s within inches
of having his throat cut! Your man is an idiot!” “And
you will do nothing. Stand down. This is no trap.” “You
should have come alone.”


An idiot? Inches of having my throat cut? Brendyn dared to
cast a glance at the lovely enemy seated on his Commander's
horse looking like she was so superior to everyone else. Her
tongue was sharper than the look in her eyes. Brendyn could
take an insult like the best of them, but the cuff on the jaw
aded injury to the insult and that infuriated him deep down.
To be openly humiliated in front of those he was under the
command of. He shivered inwardly as he thought of what Malcus
would do if he found out about this. No doubt it'd be 5 more
days of latrine duty. Guinevere's last statement spoken aloud was a rather odd one. Did she think he'd be that dumb to go on this mission alone surrounded by people who could not be trusted? He would have had to be out of his mind to do that, and Brendyn saw that Arthur was as true to all of the tales Antonius had told he and the other men at Aesica. Arthur was very brave, noble, and every bit the diplomat he had heard tell.... and merciful. Even now, Brendyn held Arthur's fierce gaze like the trained soldier he was after having given the man his own account of why he had done what he had done.

The young soldier was still hoping for someone to speak out on
his behalf, but only Arthur had.

He had wanted to make the Roman proud,as well as the rest of
the men, on this first mission with him. His eyes still held
Arthur's ignoring those about them. Arthur was the only one
Brendyn needed to pay heed to. Out of the corner of his eye,
he saw Tristan and Bors move in a bit as if to guard as well
as the Optio, but his full attention was on the Commander who
had lowered his gaze as he spoke his piece. Brendyn held the
gaze steady, trying to forget that he had mud and grim on his
uniform and a sort of red mark on his jaw. After the report,
and Arthur's assessing gaze to Tyranus, the Commander gave a
single nod though Brendyn could not tell what the man was
thinking. Perhaps after serving under him for a bit, Brendyn
would know how to read Arthur's expressions, but right now, he
could not tell. After Arthur turned to say something to
Guinevere, he turned back to the young soldier...

Arthur
 
“Soldier, see to your mount….keep your weapons
sheathed,” “Quintus, gave him aid if required,”


Quintus
 
“Aye, sir,” “Easy, Bren…need a hand?”


Brendyn nodded in response to Arthur, "Aye sir."

Then, his eyes moved to Quintus who had remained silent thus
far, and was dismounting his own horse while Tristan had moved
into guard them. In his mind, he recalled the first time he
had met Quintus, and then Arthur and the knights... Then
Malcus and Titrus. He had made up his mind a long time ago,
that these men were ones he'd want to serve under. All of them
so far different from the tyranical training of Antonius and
his men. These men had views on things that Brendyn had never
been taught, but had always been taught to see and kill the
enemy as they could not be trusted. His first lesson was
learned here: that there was no need to kill the moment one
saw the enemy. Though this scene had been tense, Brendyn had
kept it in his mind that this was a peaceful mission and that
he was not to draw a weapon against any of the enemy unless
things went wrong. In a sense, he had spared his attacker's
life and that of the male woad... in truth, he could have
killed them both.

That was not how peace was achieved.

In his mind, he said a short prayer of thanks , and safety
thus far as Arthur asked the Centurion to aid Brendyn in
tending to his horse who stood next to him.

"Yes sir, I could use some assistance," Brendyn almost
whispered to the Centurion. As Quintus approached, Brendyn
felt his temper ease up a bit, and he took a small exhale of
breath. Next to him, Tyranus studied the approaching man, and
sort of sniffed the air for any scent of danger while the man
ducked around to the other side of the horse, and had edged to
his master's side. The woad's attack on Brendyn had left the
horse slightly shaken, but now began to calm down a bit.
Focusing on what he had to do, Brendyn eyed the surrounding
woads while he slowly retrieved his dagger. He whispered to
Quintus, "Just talk to Tyranus and allow him to lean on you a
bit while I fight with the stone." He bent down and took up
the hoof again, checking the angle of the stone's wedge. "Easy
boy... no one is going to harm you.... steady."

He bent his knees a bit, resting the hoof between them and
began to work at the stone. It was wedged in the hoof pretty
tight, but after a few well placed digs and nudges, it came
loose, and fell to the ground....
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golden_trillium

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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Dec 09, 2008 7:59 pm
Quintus


Brendyn
 
"Aye sir. Yes sir, I could use some assistance. Just
talk to Tyranus and allow him to lean on you a bit while
I fight with the stone. Easy boy...no one is going to
harm you...steady."


Talk to the horse? Quintus arched an eyebrow at that and tried
not to sigh. He got asked to talk to the horse, while there
were three Sarmatians who knew ten times bloody more about
horses than he did right there? He didn't even know what to
say to a horse, beyond "good boy" and "whoa". But he went
gamely to the horse's- Tyrannus's? what an odd name for a
horse- head and took the bridle, then unpressed his lips from
their thin line and tried to do some soothing while Bren
worked on the hoof and everyone else started to wheel mounts
around, ready to get back on the road. The Sarmatian scout was
eying him and Brendyn rather piercingly from off to their
left...what the hell was his problem?

"Easy lad...'sall right," Quintus muttered darkly, making an
attempt at stroking the horse's neck and feeling strangely
embarrassed about doing so. It wasn't in his nature, having to
make tender noises to an animal while seemingly half the
fort's compliment of Sarmatians and God-knew-how-many Woads
looked on. But fortunately, it was only a brief time before
Brendyn had the stone out and Quintus could give the horse a
last self-conscious pat and step away from the ignominious
duty.

"Mount up...and for fuck's sake put that dagger away," the
Centurion muttered as he snow-crunched his way back past
Brendyn and around to his own mount.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Dec 09, 2008 9:20 pm
Brendyn


Quintus
 
"Easy lad...'sall right,"


Tyranus nudged his head against the Centurion's body while
Brendyn worked at the stone until it came loose. As it plopped
onto the snowy ground, the horse bent it's head down to
inspect the infernal stone, then raised his head a bit more to
nudge Brendyn's hand as the young man inspected the hoof after
the stone was released making sure there was no further
injury. Satisfied that there was no further damage, Brendyn
lowered the hoof to the ground and arose to pat the black
horse's soft neck. He'd never have forgiven himself had
something serious happened to a horse he had trained
personally, and that had led him through many battles and
missions.

The black arab mix turned his head once again to nudge at
Quintus's hand in a friendly manner, greatful that he had lent
comfort while the stone was removed. Brendyn nodded to Quintus
as the man stepped away from Tyranus after a last pat, his
eyes also catching the group as they made ready to move on...

Quintus
 
"Mount up...and for fuck's sake put that dagger away,"


Nodding to the officer, Brendyn looked about at the woads who
remained staring at he and the horse, then slowly sheathed his
dagger into his boot, "Aye sir, and thank you."

Moving to the saddle, Brendyn placed his foot into the stirrup
and mounted Tyranus who was obviously glad that he could carry
his master again. The horse's ears perked forward, head held
proudly, and stood just as if nothing had happened, though he
did test his one hoof before placing weight on it. Brendyn
nodded to Titrus, Bors and Tristan as well as Quintus and Jols
acknowledging that he was ready to move on...









Ione

How long she had prayed and cried over her son's grave, Ione
had no idea. The coldness of the late afternoon bit through
her cloak reminding her that she should not stay out long.
There were other days when she could come and visit him.
Bowing her head to finish the prayer, she turned to the nun
who had prayed with her, "Sister, do you know where the knight
Accolan is buried? I would like to visit his grave before I
return to the shop."

The winter wind played through some of the loose strands of
hair that had strayed from under her hood. The nun looked at
her and nodded, "He is not far from here, Ione, but we must
not be long, for the night will approach soon enough."

Ione nodded and followed Sister Margaret to the place where
her first true love lie. It was a lovely spot overlooking the
snow covered moors, and marked with his sword. It was true
that she had fallen in love many times, but Accolan was the
first to really treat her as a friend and a lady.... And oh!
The talks they use to have! Ione looked from the grave to the
nun and back, then stepped forward and placed the few fronds
of heather on the grave, letting her tears fall as she did so.

Gods above she had loved him! And the more she thought back to
those times: the laughter and adventures they had shared...
how he had saved her life and then she had saved his years
later....

There were no words she could say that would fit the moment,
and Accolan had told her that sometimes all two people needed
to do was to remain silent and let the moment speak for
itself, and so it did. Visiting his grave was closure for her,
and now she had to let him go along with Ian. Ione knelt down
in the snow and placed a kiss on the hilt of the sword, then
arose the her feet, before nodding to the nun, "Thank you,
Sister, for coming here with me to show me where they are
buried." She brushed tears from her dark eyes as she
continued, "I would like to go back to the shop now, I need
rest."

The nun nodded, and led Ione back to the fort, and to the shop
where she saw a young man waiting for her. The weaver looked
from the young man to the nun and back, "Why are you here?"

"Linnesse from the infirmary, she sent me here to pick up
blankets you had made for the infirmary," The lad, Marcus,
told Ione and the nun.

Sister Margaret smiled, "Well, I can help you to bring them
back to the infirmary depending on how many you have, Ione."

Ione unlocked the door, but did not smile. She opened it,
stepping aside so that the nun and Marcus could enter. The
weaver pointed to the stack of 20 blankets, "Those are the
ones." Marcus and Sister Margaret headed to the pile and
looked through them, then sister Margaret asked, "Did you
bring the small cart, Marcus?"

"Yes ma'am right outside the door," Marcus said with a
gesture. He looked to Ione then the nun and began to carry the
blankets to the waiting cart outside while Ione and the nun
watched. Sister Margaret looked slightly at Ione. The young
woman did look exhausted again and in need of rest. Marcus
worked fast and soon the blankets were in the cart.

"We have to get back to the infirmary now, Ione. Try to get
some rest, dear, and don't forget your medicine before you do
to bed," Sister Margaret did not want a repeat of what had
happened, and nor did Ione who just nodded, not saying
anything. She stood by the door and watched at the young boy
and the nun made their way back to the infirmary until they
were out of sight. Ione remained though, for a moment and left
her thought go to Titrus hoping that he was free from harm,
and that he'd return soon safely.

Looking up at the gray sky, Ione bowed her head and slowly
closed the door blocking out the wintery scene...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Wed Dec 10, 2008 11:24 am
Mari


Mari was obedient. If nothing else in the world, she was that.
With Linnette sitting across from her and wishing to be
leaving, despite Mari's hunger, and despite her wish to sit
and talk a little more, she was willing to forego these wants
on her own behalf to satisfy Linnette. And what's more, she
didn't think it a sacrifice. It would never occur to her to
disagree or argue her point to remain and eat and give the
other two times together. So she was readying herself to stand
when Linnette slumped bonelessly onto the bench opposite. Mari
had another piece of cheese halfway to her mouth and was
half-crouching over her seat as her big brown eyes looked to
the other woman.

Linnette
 
"No...keep eating, Mari...I'm sorry,"


Mari sat slowly, almost cautiously, watching Linnette and
sensing a restless spirit from her. She chewed the cheese
thoughtfully and gave the woman a hopeful, nervous smile.

Linnette
 
"You're right, we haven't given them nearly enough time,
I just don't know what to do anymore, Did I tell you
that I'm with child?"


Obedient and sweet, but not very good with nurturing
techniques - Mari did not realise that Linnette was not really
eating as she spoke, sighing hopelessly and sagging down into
her seat. If there was a link between Linnette's comment on
not knowing what to do anymore, and her question about her
being with child, Mari didn't know what it was. Her initial
reaction was delight - her eyes brightened her back
straightened. She was smiling broadly as she looked across at
Linnette but slowly the two sentences came together in her
head and she realised the implications of her being with child
and not knowing what to do anymore. She was going to be a
mother in a few months and she had no husband to provide for
her, no husband or man at all to take care of her or her child
whatever it might be.

The young woman's expression softened a little, the excited
edge vanished and she gave Linnette a sad but understanding
smile and a shake of her head.

"No you hadn't told me. That's ... that's quite good news. I
can see that it is quite daunting now given ... your
circumstances. But there's someone isn't there? Some family
who can look after you? And if there isn't then... well, well
- "the girl perked up and looked solid for once, she looked
assured and there was a tiny frown of strength in the middle
of her forehead as she placed her palm flat on the table
gently for emphasis - "Well then I'll help you. Milan and I we
can help - we can do whatever we can. One way or another
Linnette, you won't be alone." Mari assured Linnette. She
didn't quite know how they would help but she would do all
that she could to make sure that the poor woman was not alone
raising a child. She had enough heartache in her life right
now without worrying over what was to come.

Mari smiled and took another bite of food, chewing it
thoughtfully before speaking around it.

"How long til you're due?" she asked kindly.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: golden_trillium
Date: Wed Dec 10, 2008 2:20 pm
Linnette


Mari
 
"No, you hadn't told me. That's...that's quite good
news. I can see that it is quite daunting now
given...your circumstances. But there's someone, isn't
there? Some family who can look after you? And if there
isn't then...well, well- well then I'll help you. Milan
and I we can help- we can do whatever we can. One way or
another Linnette, you won't be alone. How long til
you're due?"


"Midsummer," Linnette murmurred, her eyes downcast to her
plate where she once more gave the cheese a little push, but
did not bring it to her mouth. Midsummer- a summer baby, with
no father. What was she going to do?

"It's quite a while yet," she added, dragging her gaze, and in
some measure, her spirits, back up and looking Mari in the
eyes again. Linnette felt down, certainly- there was no other
way she would have expected to feel- but looking at Mari it
was just impossible to feel as down as when not looking at
her. She radiated innocence, optimism, and kindness- she lit
up the world around her. And, well...it was a while. A while
until the baby. A while to think about what to do...though
probably not a while until she started showing. Under the
table, Linnette rubbed one hand over her stomach, feeling its
slightly rounded contour that could have signified anything or
nothing, as yet- but which would no doubt be increasing in
only a matter of weeks.

"I have a sister and brother-in-law in the fort- but it's a
very kind offer, Mari...very kind." A smile, though she felt
the beginnings of a mist behind her eyes, and then with sudden
decision, she leaned forward and took a bite of the cheese she
had been pushing around for so long. The baby needed food-
everyone would agree with that. And it really wasn't bad. Not
exactly inspiring to her at the moment, but not bad. She
reached for her mug and took a sip of the wine, then
impulsively reached for the book sitting abandoned on the wall
side of the table, pushed aside so that they could eat- the
book that Drake had lent her, to be a distraction. A
distraction might be just what she- and Mari- needed.

"Here," Linnette pulled the book towards her and adjusted the
positions of plates and cups, keeping all the food within easy
reach, but placing the book sideways on the table, so that
both she and Mari could see it. She opened the cover to the
first page, savoring momentarily the smell of the leather and
paper, the smell of new knowledge, new worlds waiting to be
discovered.

"'Gloriana, a tale of Adventure', by Cinna Marcellus Appius."
She read from the opening leaf of the book, then turned to
Mari with raised eyebrows, a silent question as to whether she
was interested. "A friend lent this to me," she added,
forbearing for now to mention that the friend in question was
Drake, the selfsame man whom she had told Mari she intended to
set up with a woman. The sight of him taking his kill and far
too much wine for one person out of the tavern a few moments
ago still stung a but, much more than it should, and Linnette
didn't want to re-open that particular basket of worms,
now...but maybe she'd confess to it later. Maybe.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Wed Dec 10, 2008 3:44 pm
Arthur


The tension between the Woads and Arthur’s men seemed to
dissipate to some degree…Arthur prayed that it was enough for
them to continue on. And he prayed that they would reach
Merlin soon….and that peace could be reached.

Guinevere
 
“Oh indeed, ride on. I am merely your captive...”


Arthur gave no verbal response directly to Guinevere. However,
a wry grin briefly flashed across his weathered expression
before the Commander turned his head to give a quick glance
back at his small group.

“Gentlemen, we shall continue on,” Arthur called out in signal
to his men and then focused on the snow covered ground ahead –
his green eyes fell to one of Guinevere’s people who once
again moved to the front of the procession. Guinevere’s
companion, Nolan, motioned for Arthur to follow and so the
Commander gave Casti a gentle nudge with the heel of his boot
and a click of his tongue and the stallion immediately
responded; falling into step behind the Woad.

Guinevere
 
“I am not a Lady. I could prove it to you, but your God
would punish you for the beast we’d produce. A strong
beast, and very British. Do not tempt me Arthur, I would
hate to see you punished...”


Arthur released a small snort in dark amusement at Guinevere’s
statement. He felt her tiny hand take up residence over his
knuckles again as well. But this time, no gentle caress. Pity.

“What makes you think that I would be susceptible to your
charms, hm?” Arthur retorted, his mouth even closer to
Guinevere’s ear now. “I am no gentleman to welcome your
seduction,” He added and punctuated his words by allowing his
prickly chin to rasp over the shell of her ear.

Only one person had that power over Arthur. And for that one
person only, would Arthur eternally burn in Hell for his sins.
And at that thought, the Roman’s chest tightened and the one
spot beneath his armour ached again….painfully so.

Arthur proceeded to lead his mounted group onward in the
footsteps of Nolan. The Optio rode close on the Commander’s
right flank and the rest formed a line behind the two
officers. The frozen snow crunched and cracked beneath the
heavy hooves of the horses. The icy wind whipped and whirled
around all of them as they rode on. And then the thick forest
of firs and hardwoods gave way to a small ford – a frozen and
rocky stream dotted with white snow and fallen limbs from the
trees along its shore. Standing on the far bank was a dark
horse with a blue-painted rider…..the Woad that had rode ahead
at Guinevere’s urging. Arthur pulled his fingers from
Guinevere’s hold and raised his arm signaling his men to halt.

“What would you have me do here, lady? It appears the path is
blocked by your man,” Arthur murmured to Guinevere; the heat
of his breath easily warming the shell of her ear if not her
cheek as well. He brought his free hand back to the woman’s
abdomen, his palm covering hers completely and possessively.
Arthur still viewed Guinevere as his only bargaining tool – if
Merlin were to refuse a meet or if any of her people should
choose to threaten the men.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Wed Dec 10, 2008 4:15 pm
Drake


Drake used his boot to close the door. The bundle of sticks he
dumped on the hearth next to the woodpile he had brought up
ealier.

He placed the amphora onto the table and looked at it with
pursed lips. Something in the back of his head was telling him
that this was a bad idea - that he should go back to the
tavern, have a drink there, maybe buy some dinner - anything
than sit in his own little dinky room with a full amphora. He
grunted at his lack of confidence in his own self-restraint
and blindly pulled the rabbits loose from his belt. HE slung
the bodies bonelessly onto the table next to the wine and
walked back to the door, unhooking his cloak and placing it on
the peg. He toed off his boots whilst he was there and padded
over to the hearth.

The homely task of lighting a fire, dirt and grit in his nails
from hunting and foraging earlier recalled Drake to a
different time altogether. A time when he had been expected to
perform these tasks - those brief interludes where he had been
a husband and father instead of a mere breadwinner for a
beautiful wife and three healthy sons.

Their home had been rather small - white washed walls,
tapestries hung from these but none of them were rich or
expensive. They had glass windows and acres of land that was
farmed and maintained by servants. Slaves had been cheaper but
with Drake being away so often and for so long he had deemed
it more sensible to use servants.

On the window sill by the kitchen there was a small trough
with herbs that his wife used for cooking...

Drake stood and put his hand to his belt once more, tugging
out the pitiful looking herbs he had plucked from the
wilderness. There was nothing impressive given that it was
winter - but what was good for the rabbits was good for him.
And the rabbits now lay dead upon his table. Gathering his
small battered pot and pan from his saddlebags, Drake used the
pitcher to fill the pan before going back to his table.

Fire built up and an orange flame beginning to lick around the
edges of teh logs, the Spaniard flopped down in the chair. He
only had one chair and so he stretched his bare feet across to
the bed, his knees angled outwards. He had gutted the rabbits
out in the wild but they needed to be skinned and the meat cut
into chunks. As he worked, diligent and frowning, he tried to
think of things that were not pertaining to the past. Memories
past made the amphora look more tempting.

But anything related to the present made him feel awkward too.
In any other situation when he had started to engage his
withered heart he had severed the link and retreated inside of
himself once more. At least that is what he had done all of
the one times he had felt something for someone since Cecile.

"Cecile..." he murmured her name, hunkering down by the fire
now and stirring the pot of stew he was concocting. He reached
back behind him to the herbs on the table and scattered them
into it, a permanent frown etched into his forehead. Leaning
forward, the old soldier took a sniff of the rabbit broth and
gave a grunt of satisfaction. He sat down on the ground and
reached up for the amphora. He unstoppered it and tossed a
dash of the wine into the stew for flavour before taking a
good, hearty swig himself. It was bitter - not quite the best
the tavern had to offer, he doubted, but it would suffice.
Without thought he took another drink, and then a third. He
leaned his solid back against the leg of the table and watched
the flames lick around the long-since-charred bottom of his
pot.
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golden_trillium

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Author: LadyCastus
Date: Thu Dec 11, 2008 11:44 am
Neeria


Neeria put her hands to her breasts to hold up the frock and
twirled around in the dress, amazed that she was wearing such
a beautiful thing. She stopped twirling suddenly when she
thought of what her friends...and Merlin...would think of her
behavior. Merlin's face of consternation flashed in front of
her eyes and Neeria froze, suddenly ashamed at what she was
doing. What AM I doing? she thought. She closed her eyes to
Merlin's face, trying to block him out. But the vision burned
her eyes even in the darkness of her closed lids. She would
return to him, Neeria thought, and explain her actions. Yes,
one day - once she healed properly. Yes, once she'd healed
properly, she would leave the fortress and go back home. It
would just take time, that's all. Neeria subconsciously
touched her bandaged side. She cleared her throat before she
spoke, looking back at Vanora.

"It is very pretty. Thank you again, Vanora," she said softly,
not making eye contact with either woman.

Neeria dug into her head viciously again, scratching her dirty
scalp. Leaves and a small twig fell to the floor.

"Maybe I should take it off before I get it dirty," she said
coyly.

Vanora
 
What do you think, Neeve? I know it is a trifle big, but perhaps I know of someone who can fix the problem. This goes about your waist to accentuate your figure, and it makes the dress fit better.  Ione, the weaver. She lives two houses down from here, and though I have not seen her yet today, perhaps she is in the shop. Have you seen Ione at all today? Odd not seeing her bustling about like she does... Ione is very good at what she does and would have this dress looking great on you, Neeria."


"Do you think so, really?" Neeria asked, once again, wide-eyed
like a child. She wanted to be clean and washed. I do want to
wear the dress and be normal. Just once. Mikal would have
thought me beautiful in this dress.

Neeve
 
“No, I haven’t seen her…which doesn’t say much actually,
seeing that me and my…attachment…have only been in the
dungeons and the tavern so far. But if you see it
necessary that she works on that dress to make it fix
better, I’ll check on her… Killing two birds with one
stone so to speak…You like the dress? Good. Then let’s
get it adjusted and move on…”,


Neeria looked at the dark-haired Briton and smirked. The
healer's impatience was not lost on the woad. But there was no
way Neeria was going to put on her first dress looking like a
wart hog.

"Thank you," Neeria said as properly as she could. "But I
think I should take a bath first before putting on my new
dress and boots. I don't want to get this smell into the dress
and my hair needs cleaning. Arthur said I could have a bath."

Neeria thought throwing the commander's name into the mix
might soften Neeve's disposition a bit. Neeria's whole body
itched and she smelled awful. She dreaded putting the filthy,
stinky clothes she'd had on before back on, but she didn't
want to soil her new garment either. Relunctantly, she pulled
the dress over her head and once again stood completely naked
in front of the other two women.

Neeria realized then, the other two women's surprise that the
woad seemed completely at ease in the complete buff. She
chuckled.

"Does my nudity offend you?" she laughed as she reached for
her dirty trousers. "It is, of course, a natural state of
being for my people," she said as she wiggled her bottom and
pulled up the pants, tying them at her tiny waist.

She reached for the tunic next and scratched again before
pulling it over her head.

"I am ready for my bath now, lady," she said to Neeve. "And
thank you for your kindness, Vanora,"

Sniffing the air again, smelling the good food, she added,
"Maybe I can come back later and eat with you. That is if I
get permission."









Titrus

Titrus clucked his tongue and tapped his heel to Adolphus'
side once Quintus had mounted his horse again and Arthur had
given the command to continue moving forward.

What a near miss that was. What was Brendyn thinking? Well, he
wasn't thinking. He didn't realize that such a movement would
cause aggression from the woads. It was an easy mistake,
albeit a near deadly one. That feral, rabid, half-dressed
looking wildcat could have exterminated Brendyn in the blink
of eye. Even with his fancy moves and all, she'd managed to
still keep the upper hand. Fucking woad bitches. Titrus
thought to himself. Who could trust the bitches? The
lieutenant scoffed when he thought about little Eala whom he'd
given the benefit of the doubt. Never again. They weren't to
be trusted, no matter the age.

Titrus looked over at Quintus. He knew the centurion was
probably still a little cross with him, but nonetheless, the
lieutenant leaned over in the saddle.

"Everything alright, mate?" he asked softly.

Quintus looked stoic in his saddle. Titrus didn't know if it
was out of anger, fear, disgust or all of that. He looked at
Quintus closely and waited for him to reply.











Rosita and Nolan

Rosita put the arrow back in its quiver and the bow back on
her shoulder. She locked her dark eyes onto Brendyn and curled
her upper lip up into a snarl. Then she rolled her eyes,
looking at Brendyn from head to toe, then took her place back
at the front of the line next to Nolan, nodding her head at
Guinevere.

Nolan began walking, only to find Smith waiting for them a
short while later. Nolan smiled and nodded his head at the
mounted scout, knowing Smith must have gotten to Merlin and
notified him. It would just be a short matter of time before
Merlin showed up.









Malcus Barbattus

Once Malcus had paid Catherine for her services, she
discreetly tucked them away in bodice. Very professional
Malcus thought to himself and smiled. Catherine stood on her
tip toes and kissed Barbattus lightly. He grabbed her small
waist and pulled the woman closer to him, ever the perfect
gentleman, and kissed her back - deeply - before he released
her again and stared into her green orbs.

Catherine
 
"Shouldn't I be the one to say that? Rest assured that I
am never too far away should your afternoons seem so
dark and unpleasing in the future."


Malcus grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it.

"I will certainly recall our afternoon with great fondness and
I will call you again when the situation...er...arises," he
said wickedly with a smirk.

Then the captain turned around again and pulled his boots back
on, lacing them up and replacing his small weapons on his
person and along his belt.

"She we go now, love?" he asked her once he'd finished
dressing and thrown his cloak around his shoulders.

Catherine
 
"Captain."


The blonde beauty purred the salutation as she curtsied before
the captain. Malcus' eyes widened again at the perfect creamy
mounds of her bosom and made a mental note to call on this
woman again. He actually enjoyed her company. Barbattus
cleared his throat and opened the door, allowing the lady to
exit his quarters first. They walked down the corridor in
silence. Once they reached the outer gates of the barracks,
Malcus kissed Catherine's hand and thanked her again for her
services.

"Is there somewhere the brute can escort the lady on his way
to the stables?" he asked, perfectly comfortable with seeing
Catherine to her next destination.
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golden_trillium

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Author: Pinkie
Date: Thu Dec 11, 2008 2:50 pm
Saoirse


It was a very calm and rejuvenating scene. She was quiet, her
head tilted to one side so that her red hair fell in fiery
waves to brush against her exposed thigh. The bandaging around
her thigh was neat and her pale skin matched it well. Her blue
eyes were intense but peaceful – the movements of her small,
pale hand was slow but certain. The salts scoured all the dead
skin from his battered body, turning the water a murky color.
Saoirse kicked her feet gently and moved her hand across the
back of his neck, down the centre of his spine. The difference
in his skin was obvious – the dried blood dissolved before her
eyes.

When he turned to her she sniffed, tossing her head back to
move her hair from it’s dangled position over her legs. The
knight looked stymied – Saoirse smiled.

They would figure out what he was able for and what he was not
able for when the time came. For too long there had been this
worry over her lovers’ strength, about his health and
well-being. – the Irish woman longed to be able to look at him
and not wonder if he was in pain, to touch him without
thinking it might pain him… She longed for normality.
Unfortuately for her though, normality would involve turning
back time. Because despite his reassurances, Saoirse stillfelt
… wrong… she felt she had wronged him and even more so now
that his son had been taken from him. He had a daughter – a
daughter whose presence might ease his current heartache, that
might lift his bleak spirits but she was far away in Ireland.
In hiding.

Dagonet
 
"Do you think I should shave?"


Saoirse continued looking at the Sramatian a long time before
realising he had spoken. She gave a start and frowned,
reaching across to hold his chin in her hands. She harrumphed
and tilted her head to the side. Leaning forward, she brushed
her cheek against his and turned her lips to kiss the skin
close to his ear.

“Mmmm shave. Leave yer head though – it kinda suits ye…” She
replied with a smile, moving her damp hand over the short crop
of hair atop his head. Scrambling to her feet, the red head
walked to the bundle of clothes that she had dropped there
earlier and rooted about for the shaving blade. Uncovering it,
she returned to her perch by the pool and parted her legs.
With a wry smile she gestured for Dagonet to come closer to
her, a twinkle in her blue eyes.

“C’mere til I do it fer ye… make sure it’s done properly.” She
said with mock reproach.









Mari

When Linnette popped the cheese into her mouth Mari smiled.
She hadn't been aware that the woman wasn't really eating but
something did register in her mind when she finally did that
this was good for her. Food was good, it was essential for the
healthy development of the baby. So Mari thought anyways. She
wasn't too familiar with babies and children at all. Her only
experiences had been brief and passing as she moved from place
to place with her father. The little street urchins made her
feel welcome when they had stayed any place long enough for
her to explore. But as for being an adult tending to a baby...
well, that whole world was a mystery. And she had no mother to
tell her what to do either.

Linnette
 
"Midsummer, It's quite a while yet, I have a sister and
brother-in-law in the fort- but it's a very kind offer,
Mari...very kind."


While Linnette spoke, Mari ate - and drank, her mind churning
over the bits of information that the woman offered. She gave
a pleased smile around a mouthful of food when Linnette said
she had a sister and brother-in-law. Not that it would stop
her from helping. It was in her very nature to want to please
people. Perhaps because she had been unable to ever please her
father, Mari constantly made efforts to make other people like
her. All that she said and did was said and done with the
purest and nicest of intentions.

Linnette's eyes misted over and Mari continued to smile,
chewing slowly now, hoping the hazel-eyed wmoan wouldn't cry.
Not that she would blame her. To have lost her husband and now
being faced with raising a babe on her own ... it was
daunting. MAri tried to imagine it as herself - she tried to
imagine how it would be for her if Milan... and there she
faltered. She couldn't even imagine how she would continue if
she lost Milan the way Linnette had lost Gedeon. She could not
even get beyond that hurdle to consider what it must be like
to be carrying the child of that dead love.

Linnette
 
"Here, 'Gloriana, a tale of Adventure', by Cinna
Marcellus Appius. A friend lent this to me,"


Interested?!

Mari almost choked on the piece of bread she was chewing when
Linnette spoke the title of the book. She skooched in closer,
a wide and excited grin on her face as she lookedfrom the book
to Linnette. She reached a hand out and touched the pages,
running her fingers reverently over the letters. Letters that
meant something to Linnette but which looked merely like
squished squiggles to Mari. She nodded her head
enthusiastically -

"Where did she adventure? My it is strange for an adventure
story about a woman! Usually women are the ones who stay at
home at the loom in stories - it's the men that go
adventuring." she said, glancing up at Linnette and then back
to the page, biting the edge of her lip. "He sounds Roman
too... Cinnus... something.... " she laughed gently with a
rueful shake of her head at nto remembering the awkward Roman
name.

"Would you... read a little? " Mari asked tentatively.









Catherine

Malcus
 
"Is there somewhere the brute can escort the lady on his
way to the stables?"


People could look and people could presume what had occurred
between the two. Malcus held her hand and it looked a tender
thing - but once they came to a stop the blonde went around to
stand in front of him, smiling up at him patiently despite her
insane need to go and get clean, to refresh herself. His
request was met with a soft pout of her pretty lips and she
tilted her head to one side, sliding a chilled hand up against
the soldier's neck.

"My destination takes me in the other direction... but thank
you." she said. "The brute is well on his way to becoming the
gentleman..." Catherine teased with another getnle brush of
her lips against his before turning to leave him. She looked
over her shoulder as she went and blew him a kiss.

"I'm never too hard to locate Captain - don't leave it so long
in future." she laughed with a shake of her pretty head then
carried on on her way, ensuring to let her hips give that
suggestive sway that would, no doubt, have the man pining for
more of her before she had left his sights.

Catherine looked back only once more and turned a corner. She
carried on with the charade for a little while longer before
dipping her head, gripping her skirts and begining to walk a
bit faster. She met Arland on his way to the fortress to begin
his day's work.

"Catherine! There you are - mother's looking for you..." he
said and gave a slight pause before asking, "What's wrong?"
Catherine gave him a wan smile and shook her head. She was a
bit breathless from her continuously swift walking and her
cheeks were flushed prettily. The edginess she felt was
obvious to someone who knew her as Arland did.

"Nothing -- just getting home quickly. It's bloody cold out
hmm?" she enquired, knowing full well the fortress servant
would not be tricked into thinking there was nothing wrong.
But he knew better than to ask, he knew better than to delve
too deeply into the parts of her life that he would rather
pretend did not exist.

"It is... well... will I see you later at home?" he asked
tentatively.

Catherine licked her lips and looked over his sholder, eager
to be on her way, she looked back into his sad eyes and gave
him a bright smile.

"Maybe." she replied adn gave a soft laugh at his defeated
sigh. "Go Arland - you'll be late." she told him, and brushed
past him, hurrying on out of the fortress grounds and along
the line of cottages that made up Badon Village.
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golden_trillium

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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Thu Dec 11, 2008 2:58 pm
Guinevere


The heat of Arthur’s body did two things. It warmed her,
surrounded her...but it was also reminiscent of human touch.
It was a fragile thing, delicate and transient, and Guinevere
had not been this close to another in a long time. The press
of the Roman’s thighs around her small body provided comfort
and security...but also reminded her that she was trapped.
Held captive, and used as their bargaining chip. Guienvere was
no fool. This was war...and in war? People became valued.
Civillians were worth more than soldiers, and Guinevere
counted as a shoulder. Her lithe body was coated in blue war
paint, and she had the passionate gaze of a warrior. She did
not scare easily, and had grown devoid of mercy with time. She
was not cold, but rather distanced, aloof. She was rational,
secure and confident, and did not heed to the traditional role
of the woman. In Briton, women were strong, and could rival
the strength of a man. In Rome? Women were feeble, and merely
the birthing husks of their bastard husbands. Arthur’s own
mother had been British, and that graced him with British
characteristics – strength, passion, righteousness. Guinevere
trusted that Arthur would choose the correct path in the
end...

Arthur
 
”Gentlemen, we shall carry on.”


Guinevere’s lips lifted in a bitter smile, and she leant back
against Arthur’s breastplate. Dark wisps of hair whipped about
her high cheekbones, and she breathed fog from her lips. This
path was awkward, but well guarded by her kindred. She
appeared relaxed against Arthur’s chest, but was rather on her
guard. She held Arthur’s hand, and her dark eyes flickered
about their surroundings. There was the faint lullaby of
birdsong, and twigs snapped in the snow. The winds blew, hard,
and leaves rustled at every side. The woodland was alive
around them, and she lifted her black eyes to the immortal
sky. This land was her heaven, and she would fight to preserve
it. They did not need Roman marble and gold here, it was not
welcome...

Arthur
 
“What makes you think that I would be susceptible to
your charms, hm? I am no gentleman to welcome your
seduction,”


Guinevere lifted her brows in amusement, and considered a
cheeky response. She would hardly identify her physical
prowess as ‘seduction,’ but clearly Arthur was impregnable
when faced with the most beautiful women. Guinevere shrugged
her shoulders lightly, and laughed. Did he keep a whore at
Badon? She knew Darya, but a Roman was a Roman...and a man was
a man. Indeed, it amused her. Arthur and she should have been
mortal enemies, and yet here they were...challenging each
other akin to sexual satisfaction. It was hardly the
conversation of war, but it provided ample amusement.
Guinevere’s eyes glittered, and she concentrated ahead...but
gods, the heat of his mouth upon her ear! The Woad swallowed,
and almost fluttered her eyes shut. His breath was hot, musky,
and it heated her entire earlobe and cheek. It
was...inappropriate for a Roman, but Guinevere did not deny
the stir of her desire. She was British; passionate, vehement,
and respondent to the challenge of sexual supremacy. They
would not have created a beast, they would have created a
warrior. Strong.

Arthur
 
“What would you have me do here, lady? It appears the
path is blocked by your man,”


Their path grew short, and the company came to the ford.
Guinevere made a sound of triumph, and moved to sit
forward...but was stopped. Arthur’s hand covered hers, and the
woman felt the heat radiating from his callused palm. The
Roman was not stupid enough to risk her escaping, but why
would she? The Woad looked to the impressive sight of Smith,
and did not answer Arthur. She merely raised her voice, and
spoke across to her brethren. Arthur needed her leverage, and
only she could grant them access to her father.

“Smith! Our circumstances have not changed. A temporary peace
still reigns, and these men seek a meeting with my father, our
Merlin.” Guinevere’s voice carried out over the snowy ford,
and her voice lilted ironically on the word ‘men.’ She would
not bestow Arthur’s full title, not whilst he condemned her to
propriety with the word ‘lady.’ There was nothing ladylike
about Guinevere of Briton. She was beautiful, it was true, but
in a wild way. She lacked the manners and pretty words of
courtship. She was a warrior, and the daughter of the dark
wizard...












Ceinwyn

Ceinwyn followed the party. Her green eyes glared out through
the undergrowth, and with each step, she disturbed the snowy
trees. Gentle flakes of snow drifted down, and rested upon her
red hair. It was a beautiful contrast. White, against wild
red, and Ceinwyn did not notice it. Her small hands moved
twigs and branches, and she pouted her lips, blowing her hair
away from her face. It had become loose in its fragile bonds,
and now tussled thickly over her blue shoulders. The woman
moved, silently and adept, and breathed in complete silence.
Her movements were minimal, and her senses were furtive. She
would not be seen, not yet....but when the party approached
the ford, Ceinwyn slid her dagger from her boot. It sat
lightly in her hand, and ready, prepared. The Woad did not
expect trouble, but Rome was unpredictable. This whole venture
could prove to be a trap, and yet they must trust Guinevere’s
judgment.

A tiny fleck of snow fluttered down from above her, resting
against her nose. The woman flared her nostrils, feeling the
chilled ice of it.

Ceinwyn continued to move forwards, closer to the ford’s edge.
Her green eyes grew darker in intensity, and she stood up in
the woodland. She was tall, beautifully lithe, and the elegant
curve of her spine was a welcomed illusion of fragility.
Ceinwyn was not fragile, but rather damaged. Wild. She gave up
her hiding place, and instead rose to meet Smith and his ford.
The white flecks of snow still coated her red hair, and she
pursed her lips impatiently.There was snow on her eyelashes,
her cheekbones, and she turned glanced down into the water. It
trickled, softly, slowly, and Ceinwyn wrinkled her nose...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Pinkie
Date: Thu Dec 11, 2008 5:01 pm
Smith


The cold bit through the deer-skin trousers that Smith wore.
His sleeveless jerkin and shirt he wore fluttered open in the
breeze revealing the severe lines and contours of his blue
painted upper body. The ugly bruising about his broken
collarbone might have just been paint - but the swollen flesh
spoke more clearly of injury. Blue stained his clothes also
and some of the roots of his hair was colored also. He looked
like a frozen apparition as he sat still in the saddle, his
eyes looking into the distance and a half-smile curling his
pale lips. He listened. The forest spoke to him.

Oh others heard the whisper of the trees, they heard the chirp
and scurry of animals clearly - but with Smith it was
something else. IT was something more. He could detect the
atmosphere of the place, he could anticipate the movements of
those wild and feral creatures of the forest as if he were one
of them.

A wild pig scuffed away in the distance. Smith turned his head
towards it - a slow movement of his handsome features. He
sniffed the air and turned back to look at the path.

A bird darted along the ground, hopping frantically, it's
attention diverted momentarily. Smith lifted his chin and his
smile became more secretive, more confident - many moments
later the sound of horse-hooves could be heard. Scáth flared
his nostrils, a pale freezing fog blooming up aruond the
horse's dark features.

A ghost of a horse appeared amongst the snowy trees and
disappeared. Smith casually draped his arm over his lap and
leaned forward. Waiting. The horse reappeared - a rider
apparent now. Then disappeared.

It was on the third appearance that the horse could be clearly
seen walking along the path leading to the ford. The white
beast was impressive amongst the snow-splattered trees - an
apparition. An ill omen?

Smith tilted his head to the side and waited patiently,
unmoving, unswerved as the Romans came closer to the edge of
the ford. He locked eyes with Guinevere until they came to a
stop and only then did he look about the others. Nolan gave
him a nod which Smith graciously returned. His dark,
unfathomable eyes met the eyes of the enemy without fear - but
also without hatred or disdain.

Snow fluttered down from a pine tree to his left. Smith
glanced towards it and saw Ceinwyn emerge. She looked as
unhinged as ever - pale flakes clung to her wild hair. She
looked irritated.

Smith smiled and looked back at Guinevere. He was not ignoring
the Roman Commander - no, not at all. But he gave due
reverence and deference to his leaders daughter before
glancing above her head to meet the eyes of Castus. He merely
blinked and looked back to Guinevere as she addrssed him-
calling out above the noise of the forded river.

Guinevere
 
“Smith! Our circumstances have not changed. A temporary
peace still reigns, and these men seek a meeting with my
father, our Merlin.”


The woad male nodded his head and lifted a hand, signalling
for the Romans to remain on the far side of the ford.

"Take these Romans no further, Guinevere." the man said in a
lazy tone of voice. He gently pressed his heels into his
horse's belly and the equine stepped forward, horse and rider
as calm as if it were just family and friends on the other
side and not a sworn enemy. The sticks and brush laid out
across the river provided an easy foothold for Scáth and the
black stallion clopped slowly across the ford. Water splashed
up around the dark legs of the stallion - a gust coming
downriver blew Smith's dark hair to one side. When they came
to the far side of the ford he approached Castus' horse and
met his eyes - the message as much for him as for Guinevere.

"Merlin comes." the message was delivered with a knowing
smile, an amused but harmless twinkle in the man's dark eyes
as he looked to the other woads for their reactions to this
good news.
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Thu Dec 11, 2008 5:09 pm
Brendyn


Brendyn had pride: pride in what he did and how he had been
trained.

Pride in who he was serving, and those he was serving with.

His eyes looked from one man to the next while he sat astride
Tyranus, ready to ride again. Brendyn looked down from the
saddle and met the female woad's gaze with a narrow hard one
of his own. He had never killed a female, but had he been
given a chance, Brendyn would have not given it a second
thought. The black horse seemed to be alright as he was
placing full weight on the leg, so that was a great sign. She
had succeeded in humiliating him in front of his fellow
officers, and it angered him not to mention that he almost
ruined the mission. He gave Titrus, Quintus, Bors, Tristan and
Jols all a silent gaze, shook his head, embarrassed by his
actions, then prepared to ride, awaiting Arthur's orders....

Arthur
 
“Gentlemen, we shall continue on,”


Trying to ignore the thoughts that could possibly be going
about him unheard as well as the woads who had shouted the
accusations at him, Brendyn urged Tyranus forward to follow
Arthur and the woad he had in the saddle with him. The soldier
looked up into the shimmering pristine quiet of the forest all
but blocking out the incident that had happened, but keeping
the memory as a lesson learned. Somehow, snowy forests and
winter all around seemed to calm Brendyn despite the biting,
howling wind, and the calm that seemed to envelope the world
about him... the fragrance of the pines and the chilled air.

It reminded him a bit of the harsh untamed woads.

Cold, proud, arrogant woods people. Very arrogant and insolant
fools! The lot of them! The female that had attacked him
should have been glad that Arthur stopped him before he had a
chance to retaliate. The side of his face, no doubt, had a
nice red mark on it...

He moved a bit toward Jols who had not said much since the
mission began. Perhaps he could take a look at Tyranus, to
make doubly sure he was okay.

'Jols, I would like you to take a further look at my horse to
make sure I did not miss anything further,' Brendyn whispered,
and left it at that. He did not want to do any further talking
until this mission was done... unless spoken to. The wind came
up and moved through his red cape, flowing between the folds
and moving it about his uniform. The trees seemed to part and
gave way to a small clearing near a frozen ford, and on the
far side of the stream was the rider they had seen earlier on
the back of his mount. Seeing Arthur raise his hands to halt
the group, Brendyn gently brought his horse to a halt near
Jols and Bors, giving them a short glance then looking about
him at the woads that had grouped about them. Tyranus stood
still awaiting his master's command, while Brendyn waited to
see what would happen. The soldier felt that soon perhaps the
great Merlin would appear.... The one he had heard so much
about.

Merlins were birds of prey as he recalled and he had seen a
few in his travels.

Proud birds, but dangerous, lethal hunters.

Near by, Brendyn saw Titrus lean over to ask Quintus a
question, his eyes looking from one officer to the other, then
went back to the scene before them. He was too ashamed that he
had not used his head in the situation that could have proven
deadly to even look any of the officers in the eyes. What
would Malcus think if word got to him of this incident? What's
more, what did Arthur think of him now? The Briton was too
proud to show his humiliation outwardly, but kept it hidden
well and looking every bit the trained soldier he was...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Lancelot
Date: Thu Dec 11, 2008 7:07 pm
Lancelot


Guard
 
“The Lady Aracelli is the noble daughter of one of the
most powerful families in Rome, currently dwelling in
Jerusalem. Follow me, gentlemen.”


The Sarmatian followed the unnamed guard, albeit reluctantly.
Fucking Arthur and his 'Lancelot, you're in charge.' He
grumbled to himself, and rubbed at his swollen eye. He looked
shite and he knew it; nevertheless, whoever this 'lady' was,
she'd know him for who he was - Lancelot, son of Ban, warrior
of the plains of the East and the fiercest swordsman here in
the wilds of Britain. Rome's best slave. Arthur's best dog.

He shook his head and twisted his mouth as the Saxon followed
him. A good thing, else Lancelot would have had to go in
search of him again to make sure Derfel was following the
orders Lancelot had given him.

Soon enough they arrived near the main gate; Lancelot's hand
rested on his sword as they stopped at the foot of a
beautiful, exotic looking horse - topped by a beautiful,
exotic looking woman, fully dressed in her obvious best,
headdress and all. Lancelot cocked a wild eyebrow, and glanced
at Derfel. "The Lady Isabella Aracelli, I would presume," he
murmured to the other man as said lady spoke.

Isabella
 
“Gentlemen. I must have an immediate reception with
Arthur Castus. My father, the Lord Aracelli, has sent
important documents for his eyes only, and I am to dwell
here until ordered otherwise. It would be within your
best interests...It would be beneficial to us both, if
you do as I tell you...”


Well now. This was interesting. And yet another thing Arthur
had failed to share with his first knight before he'd left on
his mercy mission. Lancelot's lips pursed in a wry smile; he
knew she must think them servants or lowly stablemen. He knew
how he appeared - but that was his greatest weapon.

Stepping toward the horse, Lancelot placed his grubby hand on
the animal's nose, and spoke a few words in Sarmatian to it.
It flicked its ears at him, and he removed his hand. Not that
he had an overmuch love for the beasts, but he had not
forgotten what his mount had done for him in the last
campaign. He squinted up through the hazy on again off again
winter sun, and smiled at the bejeweled vision.

"Madam," he said, and affected a 'noble' nod. "I am Lancelot
ap Ban, and I am Arthur Castus' second in command. I regret to
inform you the commander is on an...assignment," he tilted his
head, resting his hands on his hips - although he kept one
near his sword. Always near. "I am in charge in his stead, and
I hesitate to admit I knew nothing of you or your arrival. A
great pity, that," he added, his voice sliding into a deeper
octave, his face taking on the pointed cast that would cause
most of the women in the tavern to giggle and wiggle into his
lap posthaste. With the dirt and his bare head and his
blackened, injured skin, he looked more Woad than warrior at
the moment - and gods save anyone who mentioned it. "You shame
me with your beauty." He jerked his head back at Derfel.
"Arthur's man Cadarn as well." He would leave it to the Saxon
to speak to her if he cared. That was not Lancelot's job.

"Commander Castus is due back in a day or two's time. I would
be more than happy to ensconce you in a room whilst you wait."
He put out a hand, the long and slender fingers trembling only
once in the cold (and more from exhaustion, although he'd
never admit that), and waited to see if she took the bait.

A new toy, Arthur. Thank you for not warning me.

"Although I will share a secret with you, Lady," his words
were spoken softly, as if he shared a great and special thing
with her. "I would recommend you not order me about. I can
only be slave to one Empire." He flashed his teeth, his
features arranged in a charming and blandly pleasant setting,
but his eyes -

dark and dangerous did not cover the half of it.
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