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December 2008
Topic Started: May 28 2010, 01:27 PM (2,122 Views)
golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Unicorn
Date: Sat Dec 20, 2008 2:42 pm
Dagonet


It felt relaxing. Just sitting there in a warm water, being
smoothed by gentle hands of his lover, her hair gently
tickling his bare chest. Dagonet allowed himself to forgett
now about everything, just breathe in the moment.

There was a long silence between him and Saoirse. They both
needed this.. This moment for breathing. Problems pushed away,
lost in the snow outside.

Just for a short while.

Dagonet felt he could never leave this place. He could stay
here and forgett, just allow water wash over his tired and
weakened body untill everything would be washed away... his
pain, untill it would bring him back his strenght.

When Saoirse hand went down his spine, the tall knight closed
his eyes and leaned a little, a low grunt escaping him. This
was pleasent...

He asked her a question but some time passed before she seemed
to realise that. He caught his chin lightly and leaned forward
to him. Her cheek brushing over his in slow motion. Her lips
kissed a gentle skin near his ear and Dagonet smiled to
this...

Saoirse
 
“Mmmm shave. Leave yer head though – it kinda suits ye…”


Dagonet grunted a confirmation with a little smile, while her
hand went atop his head. One more grunt escaped him -
reluctant at her leaving his side. He watched her as she
walked towards bundle of clothes and as she returned to him
again with a shaving blade.

Sarmatian watched her still as she sat again by the pool,
parted her legs and gave him a wry smile... That shimmer in
her eyes. Dagonet once more felt hit by her beauity and the
realisation how much he was in love in her.

Saoirse
 
“C’mere til I do it fer ye… make sure it’s done
properly.”


He smiled a little and come closer to her as she wanted him.
He shook his head at her mock comment, but stayed silent. He
allowed her to shave the bristle, slowly... ocatinaly looking
in his eyes and giving him a little smile. Dagonet replied the
same. For the first time feeling the tention in his body going
away completely... He felt relaxed before but now... it was
now much more silent and peacful.

When Saoirse was done, she announced it quite clearly, patting
his cheeks and leaning over to kiss his lips lightly. She
stood up and walked over the clothes.

"You're ready?" she asked, walking back to him and offering a
hand to help him stand.

Yes, it was time to return. They were here for far too long
probably. He promised Linnette to help her in that picture.
The thought completely destructing his good humour. They both
had to return to a hard and brutal reality, where his only son
is dead and their only child is hidden away from them, far
away.

He nodded his head, his smile disappearing and Dagonet started
to slowly stand up with Saoirse help. Saoirse quickly wipe her
feet and started to help Dagonet in this.

When she was done, tall Sarmatian caught her hands to stop her
for a moment. His hands went to her cheeks and looked into her
face for a longer moment before leaning to kiss her lips. For
a longer time...

He longed to this. for the whole time in the baths.

They dressed themselfs and made their slow trek to his room...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sun Dec 21, 2008 10:58 am
Guinevere


Guinevere of Briton did not show fear. There was courage in
her dark eyes, and it burnt vehemently from their fiery
depths. The woman’s lips were pouted in coltish and proud
indignance, and she sat comfortably between Arthur’s thighs.
Listening. Waiting. Would a negotiation take place? There had
been too much bloodshed, and with each drop, a deeper gash was
stabbed into fragile peace. Rome and Briton were enemies, and
so peace was precarious. Fickle. It was rarely honoured, but
that was war. Arthur and his men could meet Merlin, and very
well achieve nothing. The Woads did not question their
chieftain’s reasons, because he was an envoy of the gods.
Their ancestors spoke to him through the rustle of the leaves,
and the lilting touch of snow and fog. Guinevere felt a cold
breeze flush her cheeks red, and she looked to her father. The
man was impressive. Let no man ever underestimate the wize
wizard, because he would suffer an eternity for it. Merlin
knew their land, and he knew its strengths. Rome was still new
to its shores, its climates, and Arthur should never forget
that. His own British blood had probably saved his life many
times...because there was something undeniably British about
him. He was passionate, adept, and not greedy. Guinevere had
seen greed in many men’s eyes, but she never saw it in
Arthur’s. She saw humble responsibility...

Oh, such strong allies.

In another world, another place.

Merlin
 
“Merlin is here, what would you say to him, Artorius
Castus?”


Arthur
 
“That I seek renewed peace between us, “It was my
pleasure to provide you with a little warmth,
Guinevere,”


Peace? What was that? Peace was the abandonment of British
territory, and a retreat back to their hideous marble and gold
homeland. Guinevere parted her lips to interrupt Arthur, but
knew she was not to speak. This was her father’s argument, but
it did not mean...that she did not have an opinion. She felt
Arthur’s hand on her stomach, and sat straighter in the
saddle. It was a physical reaction to his words, but it spoke
volumes. She tipped her head forwards, looking to Merlin
through her curly brown hair. A bitter smile twisted at her
full mouth, and she resisted a laugh. How many ‘renewed
peaces’ could two nations have? Truly? And what was ‘Peace’
between enemies? It was nothing, as useless as dirt. Guinevere
admired Arthur’s resolve, but there was little to discuss.
Enemies. Savages against the civilised. What did he expect?
Warmth? Guinevere felt the heat of his mouth against her ear,
and her eyes grew dreamy for a moment. The black orbs were
almost clouded by his gesture, but it was not affection. Not
truly. The woman nodded her head slowly, and blinked lazily at
her father. She could not speak, not now, but what had his
warmth meant? She would have been happy climbing the trees
around them, or moving endlessly in the undergrowth alongside
Ceinwyn. Guinevere was Arthur’s leverage, so perhaps that was
his true reason? ’It was my pleasure to take you captive,’
perhaps? A slow and feline smile slipped across her pretty
mouth, but she remained silent.

Arthur
 
“I offer my gratitude at your willingness to meet with
me,”


Merlin
 
"I would not refuse to meet with my kin. But if it is
peace you want, Artorius, Then you must tear down your
mighty stone walls, abandon your prison fortress, and
take your soldiers and your slaves and your despoilers
of the land away from this island forever. You must
leave us as free people, and then we will have peace.
Somehow I do not think that is what you intend, So what
do you want from me, Artorius? Say on, and I will tell
you whether it can be done."


Guinevere felt Arthur’s heat withdrew. The Roman Commander
dismounted behind her, and for a moment, she appeared
confused. A dark frown decorated her proud features, and she
snatched up Casti’s reigns quickly. Her thumbs looped, and she
remembered how Smith rode. His heels were dug down, and his
thighs surely tensed to hold on? Guinevere tightened her grip
on the horse, and turned him towards Arthur and her father.
The horse walked obediently to its master, and Guinevere took
her place at her father’s hand. Mounted atop the enemy’s
horse. The Woad woman glanced down her noble nose, and stroked
a blue hand over Casti’s soft and snowy neck.

“Arthur, mighty Commander of Rome...but more British than he
claims. He desires peace, and peace, and peace, and
peace...and yet you fight for an Empire that believes blood
will create harmony. War is your way, Arthur. War is Rome’s
way.” Guinevere spoke low beside her father, and lifted her
chin defiantly. She looked Arthur in the eye, in his green and
overwhelming gaze, and breathed a gentle sigh from her lips.
Her warm breath summoned a misty fog from her lips, and she
smiled bitterly...









Eyla

Eyla was bored. Sated, but bored. In her ardent frustration
and anger with Gawain, she had found herself a useless but
lusty guard to have fun with. The woman had approached him
quietly from behind, and reached around his muscled thighs to
grab a wanton hand of his manhood. It was delightful. Unlike
Gawain, the guard did not blush, nor giggle nor act like a
chivalrous gentlemen...and had pulled Eyla’s skirts up around
her ears. Indeed, what would Arthur think? The guard was
supposed to be on duty, guarding the fortress, and yet Eyla
was seducing and distracting. Ah well, the whore would live to
see another day. Tugging her bodice up over her ample bosom,
and letting her skirts drop around her tiny ankles...Eyla
pouted prettily at the man, took her payment, and left him to
disguise the rather suspicious stains on his armour. The woman
swayed her hips beautifully, and raked a thin hand through her
lustrous dark hair. Her cheeks bloomed with the aftermath of
love-making, and her pink lips were still raw from kissing. It
was a delightful sensation...but what now? Where to? And who?
Eyla hummed a sweet tune from her sinful mouth, and trotted
down the steps from the walls. Her dark eyes lingered
momentarily upon the tavern, and the woman wrinkled her nose.
She was not truly ready for more sexual encounters
yet...but...drunken men? They always paid better. Good. Eyla
nodded her head firmly, and made towards the doors. ..
A rather handsome man brushed passed her, and Eyla turned to
look. Her glittering eyes swept down his backside, and she
called a flirtatious apology to the man.

And then crashed into something. Or someone. Eyla gasped in
sweet shock, and reached out an arm to touch her assailant.
Darya. Arthur’s mistress, and such a green-eyed monster! Eyla
curled her fingers around the woman’s arm, and steadied
herself.

“Sweet Lady Mary and all her pretty whore children!” Eyla
exclaimed, before laughing to herself. She was pleased. Darya
was very beautiful, and there was something alluring about a
moody and dark female. A slow smile touched her lips, and she
spoke sweetly to her companion. “We must stop meeting like
this, my lovely. People will begin to talk...” She leant
forwards on that final note, and pressed a pretty little kiss
on Darya’s cheek. Eyla had to raise onto tippity-toes, and her
bangles jingled noisily upon her golden wrists...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Sun Dec 21, 2008 11:33 am
Darya


Yes, the fresh air felt good. And thankfully it was neither
snowing nor raining…so the walk to her room should even be
quite enjoyable. Darya watched the hawk on her left forearm
and hoped – even though the men were gone for not even a day
yet – that Tristan would be pleased with his bird’s condition
upon his return. A corner of the Sarmatian’s mouth twitched
slightly at the thought of the men’s return; she trusted
Arthur’s negotiation skills…but she did not trust the Woads in
any way. That’s where her concern was based on…

Sighing, the woman moved on to bring more distance between
herself and the tavern…though she did not get very far.
Suddenly, something…or rather someone….bumped into her and she
had to struggle to keep her arm steady to help the hawk
maintain its balance… The bird gave a somewhat annoyed
sounding caw and cocked its head as if to regard the person
that was causing its balance problems… Instinctively, Darya’s
focus remained on the animal at first and only when she was
sure the bird was alright and a familiar voice reached her
ears, the Sarmatian finally glanced at the person in front of
her…

Eyla
 
“Sweet Lady Mary and all her pretty whore children! We
must stop meeting like this, my lovely. People will
begin to talk...”


Wha? What?

Eyla. Whore and…chamber maid. Arthur’s chamber maid. Or so
Arthur had said…and yet Darya had a hard time suppressing the
nasty little voice in her mind that tried to convince her that
Eyla would no doubt at least try to be more than that in the
Commander’s room.

The dark-haired blinked and her gaze first shifted to the
other woman’s delicate hand holding on to her right arm…and
then to Eyla’s admittedly beautiful face. A face that quickly
came closer…and warm lips suddenly touched the Sarmatian’s
cheek. Darya knew Eyla and her reputation well enough by now
to be annoyed or embarrassed by the whore’s words and actions
to not flinch or withdraw. Instead, she smirked slightly and
tilted her head a little. “Eyla…”, she said, almost sighed as
she recalled some of the thoughts she had had the last time
she had seen the other woman; in Arthur’s room. “Since when do
you care about what people say?”, Darya added, surprised by
her own words for some reason, “…and better don’t let any
Christians hear your swearing… Are you looking for someone
special? Or did you just volunteer to help me bring this
winged beauty here to a warm safe place?”
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Sun Dec 21, 2008 12:46 pm
Eyla


Oh, Eyla did not forget Darya. The dark Sarmatian woman was
quite inspiring in her strength and broodiness, and a closed
book for most. Arthur Castus had broken through her charade,
it seemed, and they were lovers. In one way or another. The
whore did not understand... nor did she care to. Eyla did not
see the point of love. It was weakness, surely? And completely
boring. Love meant that one man should love one woman, and
there was no room for third or fourth parties. And what if
that one partner was drab and dull in the bedchamber, with all
the passion of a kitchen rat? Eyla Attriabes did not believe
in it. Her life was beautiful and lovely, and she would not
change a thing. She looked at Darya from beneath thick
eyelashes, and smiled prettily, seductively. This little face
hid the secrets of her partners, her lovers, her pillowtalk,
and she was more intelligent than she seemed. She could trick
men out of money, and she could seduce drunk men with a simple
exaggerated flick of her hair. Eyla knew people, and she knew
Darya. The woman held the most ugly-looking bird upon her arm,
and Eyla wrinkled her nose. Vermin. Did this creature warm
Darya’s bed whilst Arthur was away? Probably...or perhaps? A
feline smile touched the woman’s mouth, and she looked Darya
up and down. Was she rich? Did she have gold? Eyla could
pleasure both men and women...and the whore had touched the
Sarmatian before....

Such sweet memories...heated female flesh and gentle,
exploring fingertips...

Darya
 
“Eyla…Since when do you care about what people say?…and
better don’t let any Christians hear your swearing… Are
you looking for someone special? Or did you just
volunteer to help me bring this winged beauty here to a
warm safe place?”


Eyla saw the smirk form on Darya’s lips, and tilted her head
to the side. A long dark tendril kissed its way down Eyla’s
golden shoulder, and the woman pouted prettily. Darya could be
very seductive. She had the potential to earn a lot of money
as a whore, prostitute, spicy entertainer...or whatever. The
whore had thought upon this before, and wanted to tempt Darya
away from her life of self retribution and punishment. It was
very so predictable and dull...and Eyla offered comfortable
and spontaneous fun. Did that not tempt the Sarmatian?

“Winged beauty? That...thing?” Eyla pointed at the winged
vermin and tutted her lips loudly. No wonder the woman was
bloody depressed, sharing company with a creature such as
this! No, Darya needed a long bath perhaps and some kind
person to kiss her better. And who better than Eyla? The
dark-haired Venus glanced into the tavern, and shook her head
gently. There would be time for drunken fumbles in the
dark...because now she had Darya all to herself. Why waste
such a golden opportunity to corrupt a female? Eyla braved a
glance down at Darya’s bosom, and her eyes glittered with
intent. Shameless, but entirely happy with her own audacity.
“Sweetheart, it is no wonder that you have a face full of
gloom! You share company with animals...and yet do not reap
animalistic benefit.” Eyla winkled one eye suggestively, and
peeked a glance beneath the bird’s legs. “Plus this thing has
no manhood. Tell me Darya, what is its use?”

Eyla laughed sweetly, and her bosom pressed against the tight
confines of her bodice. She folded her arms beneath them, and
arched her back elegantly...and suggestively. It was terribly
cold out here, and Eyla fancied somewhere...warmer. She arched
an eyebrow, and turned her face towards the living quarters.
It was snowing lightly, softly, and she squinted at the small
fence surrounding the outside of the entrance. “A priest once
bent me over that fence. It is very difficult to take the
clergy seriously...when you have seen several of its members
with their trousers round their ankles...” Eyla giggled, and
spoke again, beginning to walk. “Shall we?”
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: Darya
Date: Sun Dec 21, 2008 1:57 pm
Darya


Eyla
 
“Winged beauty? That...thing? Sweetheart, it is no
wonder that you have a face full of gloom! You share
company with animals...and yet do not reap animalistic
benefit. Plus this thing has no manhood. Tell me Darya,
what is its use?”


Thing? Gloom? Darya’s dark eyes narrowed a little. Was the
whore for real? By the Gods, Eyla could be glad that Tristan
was nowhere near to hear this. The bird was like family to the
scout, who had always had a close connection to animals. Even
back then in their childhood. Something, Darya liked to
remember every now and then. After all, these days, Tristan
was the closest thing to a family that she had. Or he had
been…for it seemed she would have a small family of her own in
the near future. With a child. And THAT thought scared the
dark Sarmatian; but she would never admit it in the open.
There had been no chance for her to talk to Arthur about
this…except for telling him about the pregnancy in general…

And then it happened. Darya did not miss Eyla openly regarding
her bosom and it made the Sarmatian glance down at her breasts
herself. When she had questioned Isolde about what could be
happening to her lately, the healer had said that a pregnancy
– even in an early state – caused breasts to be very
tender…and swollen. And Darya knew hers were just that… Had
Eyla noticed? Did she even know about such things? Was it more
obvious that the Sarmatian had thought in the end? A wave of
paranoia crashed down on the dark-haired…but it vanished as
soon as it had appeared. Luckily. No, Eyla’s staring was
certainly just her normal business behavior… Yes, that was it…

Darya cleared her throat and lifted her free hand to gently
stroke the back of her fingers over the hawk’s soft chest
feathers. “This…thing…is a hawk…”, the Sarmatian then
explained in a more or less serious voice, “…and it belongs to
Tristan. It is a most loyal company, an outstanding hunter and
an equally good messenger and spy. However, as you can see,
this hawk is injured and since its master is away, I have the
honour to take care of it.” The woman shook her hair back when
a gust of wind threatened to blow it into her face and shifted
her dark gaze from the bird to Eyla. “Perhaps one has to grow
up in the wilderness to understand the true beauty of animals
like this…”, she added with a suggestive nod of her head,
“…apparently an experience you lack.” A corner of the female
Sarmatian’s mouth twitched as she met Eyla’s gaze directly.

Eyla
 
“A priest once bent me over that fence. It is very
difficult to take the clergy seriously...when you have
seen several of its members with their trousers round
their ankles... Shall we?”


Darya could not help but arch both her eyebrows at those words
and her full lips parted to comment on them…but in the end,
she just smiled wryly and shook her head slightly. Eyla and
her behavior made it difficult to keep brooding over the
darker and more serious matters of this life…this reality. Yet
the Sarmatian knew that her concern regarding Arthur and his
mission would linger in her mind…until her lover had returned.
Her lover…and father to the unborn child in her womb. The last
thought let the woman briefly bite her lip…but she soon braced
herself again and lifted her chin slightly… “We shall…”, she
finally said and walked on with Eyla by her side, heading into
the direction of the building that held the knights'
quarters…and hers… The hawk would be safe and warm in her
room…and then she could go and herald the end of this day…
Perhaps with a long bath, which, in all truth, was exactly
what the dark-haired was longing for…
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Sun Dec 21, 2008 9:53 pm
Ione


She lay the carefully wrapped package on the shelf next to her
loom so that she'd not lose it. The baby inside her kicked as
though it were playing... somehow, Ione knew it was not a
distressful kick. She lay her hand on her stomach and soothed
the baby while humming a soft tune to it. She had wanted to
sit down in her chair by the fire, but it felt good to get up
and walk about the room a bit. Her walk had led her to her
loom, and her other hand ran over the framework while her dark
eyes moved to the gray dreary scene outside. As she watched, a
tiny snowbird landed there and kicked and pecked at the snow
before taking off...

To be that free...

She and Accolan had talked about that once on the way back to
the fort: How nice it would be to have no boundries and just
rise above worries and problems. She blinked back a tear as
she thought of the knight: Always upbeat and cheerful as well
as a deep thinker. Slowly, Ione sat down at the loom and moved
her fingers over the half woven cream colored fabric. In her
mind, a pattern began to form, and she began to plot how to
begin weaving it into the fabric...

And as she thought, her free hand moved the her lips, and
brushed the cold fingers lightly over them. Would he come back
alive? Ione smiled as she recalled how his warm humor had made
her feel comforted in a sad moment. Though the visit had been
short, it had still made her feel special. Ione picked up a
weaving needle that already was connected to a spool of brown
yarn, and began to slowly work out a base pattern.

The tears would not stop despite her efforts to keep them from
coming.

The child inside her womb gave her a playful kick and moved to
her left side as if to dodge Ione's soothing hand.

As Ione began to pattern, tears were also woven into the
fabric...
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: LadyCastus
Date: Mon Dec 22, 2008 7:40 am
Neeria


Neeria could tell that she'd touched a nerve with Neeve as the
two women made their way toward the baths. She hadn't meant to
annoy the healer, Neeria simply wanted to know what her life,
a fellow Briton, was like behind the wall. Of course, as a
child, Neeria had imagined what life must have been like for
the pompous Romans - having many servants, fine clothes and
tutoring. She'd been raised to hate them and anyone else who
was not a native Briton fighting from oppression.

Neeria stole a glance at Neeve out the corner of her eye. How
could a fellow Briton fight against her own people? Was she
not a traitor also? Neeria wondered. How did Neeve feel
treating Neeria as though she were beneath the other woman?
Why did Neeve hate the woads?

Neeve
 
“They don’t exist...And yes, I will rewrap you…since the
water should clean the injury even more, I don’t think
more salve will be necessary for now. If you don’t try
to attack anyone again in the next days, the wound
should be healed soon…Anything else?


Digging into her itching scalp, Neeria pressed on, looking
around the Keep. Since Neeve offered to further answer her
questions, Neeria was determined to ask them.

"Do you ever miss your native people? Is there any part of you
that feels like a traitor?"

Neeria asked the question earnestly. Perhaps Neeve could be
helpful to her in grappling with her own emotions. That is, if
the healer would in fact open up to her.









Karl

Karl leered at Linnette, smiling smugly knowing he'd made her
feel uncomfortable. That was his way - preying on those he
thought were weaker. The blond took another sip of his ale and
curled his lip, waiting for a reaction from her.

Linnette
 
“Er…” “Karl…ugh…” “Absolutely not. Leave us alone,”


Karl's face clouded over. He didn't take kindly to rejection,
especially when he was full of drink and feeling randy. Who
did this snobby woman think she was. The Roman narrowed his
gaze at Linnette and bared his teeth.

"Leave you alone, eh?" he said in a low voice. "I'll ..."

Just then, Karl felt someone grab him by his collar and pull
him backwards. Drunk or not, Karl was always able to react -
especially in a fight, since that was his way of life. He
stumbled to his feet and was spun around to face whomever it
was that grabbed him. Karl smirked upon seeing a curly haired
young man glowering at him.

Adian
 
"Excuse me, but as the young woman said she and her
friend aren't wanting you to be their guest, so I am
going to have to ask you to leave them alone... and I
don't like to repeat myself. Leave them alone.... Karl."


Karl threw his head back and laughed.

"And who the bloody fuck are you? I'm only going to tell you
once to let go of me. After that, I'm going to ram my foot -
boot and all - right up the crack of your ass!"

Then Karl turned around grabbed his tankard and took another
swig. Then he put the tankard back on the table and looked
back at Adian.

"Come on young pup, wanna dance with old Karl do ya?" Karl
gave another wicked laugh. "I hopes ya can keep up!"

Then he grabbed Adian by the throat and squeezed, laughing.











Malcus Barbattus

Vanora
 
"I will get you your meal then as well as your drink. If
you need anything else, let me know..."


"That I will do, beautiful lady," Malcus replied.

The captain settled back into his chair and closed his eyes
for a moment. He was tired. His afternoon tryst had left him
comfortable and relaxed. Malcus longed for a nice hot bath,
hot food and a warm bed. But he had to get to his duties at
the stable first. Arthur wouldn't be pleased to know Malcus
had been fucking around while he was gone.

With his eyes still closed, Malcus heard a familiar voice rise
across the room. Trouble. Barbattus knew it before he even
opened his eyes, the voice belonged to Karl. Bloody hell the
captain sighed.

Begrudgingly, Malcus opened his eyes and looked around the
room to spot the Roman out. There he was, on the other side of
the bar - it seemed as though he was causing trouble with a
young woman on the other side. Damnable prick! I just want to
eat and drink in peace!

It was as though everyone in the room suddenly turned around
and stared at the captain to do something. Malcus grumbled
under his breath and rolled his eyes. His knees creaked as he
stood up. Vanora was looking at him, pleading with her eyes,
to stop Karl before a fight ensued. A young man had approached
Karl from behind and....what the fuck? grabbed Karl by the
scruff of his neck. For the love of all that's holy!

Malcus quickened his step around the table and crossed the
room in a few long strides, just as Karl grabbed the young man
by throat. In a very loud, authoritative voice, Malcus yelled
at both of them.

"Enough!"

Then he got in both their faces and screamed at the two men.

"YOU'VE GOT EXACTLY 6 SECONDS TO BREAK THIS SHIT UP AND TELL
ME EXACTLY WHY I SHOULDN'T LOCK BOTH YOUR DUMB ASSES UP IN A
CELL!"
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golden_trillium

Admin
Author: lady ione
Date: Mon Dec 22, 2008 9:07 am
Adian and Vanora


Malcus
 
"That I will do, beautiful lady,"


Vanora laughed warmly. It was so good to see Malcus relax, and
take it easy, though now she was not sure if he was going to
get to relax at all now that Karl had entered and was now
harassing Linnette. Her fear escelated when Adian decided to
handle the situation instead of Malcus. Despite his being
stinking drunk, Karl could still defend himself quite capably.
The red head knew of Adian's spear wound that he had gotten
during the battle outside the fort had not fully healed yet,
and she didn't want to have to wash all of the tables due to
scattered blood... not good for business. She feared for the
safety of those in and around the area as she saw Adian move
behind Karl. She had seen Adian mad before and this was not
going to be pretty if he smacked some sense into Karl.

Words were exchanged, then Adian, seeming to have had enough,
picked the man up by his collar and turned him to look him in
the eyes. People in the area were beginning to murmur as
things got a bit more intense...

Karl
 
"Leave you alone, eh?" "I'll ..."


The man broke free of Adian's grasp and had spun to face him.
The damned drunk bastard deserved what was coming to him if he
even took one swing at him... he even had the nerve to laugh.
Adian braced himself, hands handing easily down at his sides,
as the man named Karl emptied his mug and placed it on the
table before turning back to him...

Karl
 
"And who the bloody fuck are you? I'm only going to tell
you once to let go of me. After that, I'm going to ram
my foot - boot and all - right up the crack of your
ass!" "Come on young pup, wanna dance with old Karl do
ya?" "I hopes ya can keep up!"


....Adian had not counted on the man being so fast on the draw
when suddenly his hands were around his neck squeezing. Adian
brought his hands up and tried to pry the man's hands off of
his neck, but then resorted to a bit of self defense. Bringing
his booted foot up, Adian caught the man between the legs with
a good well placed kick. "Ye DAMNED FUCKIN' BASTARD... I'll
teach ye respect! I told ye to let the ladies alone... and the
name is Adian... don't forget it."

Meanwhile, Vanora watched all of this fearing that Adian was
about to get into trouble for defending Linnette and Mari. Her
eyes darted to Malcus to break up the fight before things got
too out of hand.

"Please, Malcus, do something..." Her soft voice cut as she
saw Adian pin the man to the ground angry as all hell. Out of
the corner of her eye, she saw Tatiana, and wondered what the
young woman was thinking about all of this. Thankfully, Malcus
was already to his feet, and moving over to where the two men
were sparring. Truth be told, Vanora had heard of Malcus's
temper, and it far out did Adian's temper. Vanora stepped away
from the scene for her own safety, and winced as Malcus began
to take care of the situation...

Adian was just plain pissed off that this man would dare to
bother a sweet young woman like Linnette... especially when he
was drunk! He could have hurt her, or worse! He was about
ready to push Karl's face into the floor when...

Malcus
 
"Enough!" "YOU'VE GOT EXACTLY 6 SECONDS TO BREAK THIS
SHIT UP AND TELL ME EXACTLY WHY I SHOULDN'T LOCK BOTH
YOUR DUMB ASSES UP IN A CELL!"


... Slowly, Adian released Karl, and faced this other man who
had finally decided to get involved. Would this man seriously
put him in a cell for defending Linnette and the other young
beauty next to her? Well, no sense pushing to issue. He had
started this one, and would gladly go to a cell if he knew
Linnette would be safe. This new fellow that had joined in on
the fun did not look like one to reacon with, though Adian was
always one for a good fight, he was not about to go up against
this one who brimmed with authority. The young carpenter was
not a wimp or a mouse and faced the red faced man, "Sir, he
was harassing Linnette and this other lovely woman... I did
not want him to hurt her...." Granted he and Linnette had not
always been on the friendliest terms, but he could not allow
this drunk to have his way with her, nor her friend...
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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Mon Dec 22, 2008 9:51 am
Linnette


Karl
 
"Leave you alone, eh? I'll..."


Linnette leaned away from Karl again, readying another sharp
remark, but inwardly she was beginning to feel a touch of
panic- he just kept coming, that awful crazy leer in his eyes,
his teeth, the smell of rancid ale from his breath surrounding
her. And how much more awful must this be for Mari, who had so
recently suffered at the hands of a man- what if Karl was the
rapist? The thought shot into Linnette’s awareness like a
bolt, and she drew herself up again, galvanizing herself for
further defense for Mari’s sake…but just then, Karl was yanked
backwards and away from her by the collar, by none other than
Adian the carpenter, who then took the soldier to task in a
stern but peculiarly polite way….

Adian
 
"Excuse me, but as the young woman said, she and her
friend aren't wanting you to be their guest, so I am
going to have to ask you to leave them alone...and I
don't like to repeat myself. Leave them alone...Karl."


Karl
 
"And who the bloody fuck are you? I'm only going to tell
you once to let go of me. After that, I'm going to ram
my foot- boot and all- right up the crack of your ass!
Come on, young pup, wanna dance with old Karl, do ya? I
hopes ya can keep up!"


Adian
 
"Ye DAMNED FUCKIN' BASTAR...I'll teach ye respect! I
told ye to let the ladies alone...and the name is
Adian...don't forget it."


…but any politeness was exceptionally short-lived. The two
men, Adian and Karl, were soon going at it, Karl grabbing
Adian by the throat, Adian kicking Karl in the crotch, both of
them shouting and cursing at each other, and Linnette no
longer felt frightened…just mortified beyond belief that such
a disturbance, which had all the tavern looking now, and some
of the men even egging the combatants on, had started because
of her. Karl had slammed his tankard down on the edge of her
and Mari’s table, and now Linnette grabbed it and in a sudden
movement, keeping low, half-stood and transferred the mug
surreptitiously to the table across from them instead. She
didn’t want to give Karl any excuse to come back here, nor
have what he had touched there on the table with her and Mari.
His mouth had been on that cup…disgusting.

Linnette slid into the seat across from Mari again,
half-covering the side of her face with her bandaged hand, her
cheeks hot and blushing as she eyed Mari, feeling pained.

“This…doesn’t happen often. I don’t want you to think…it’s
always like this,” she made a quick gesture, indicating the
tavern in general, then winced and glanced around as a new
voice, a new male presence, entered the fray- Malcus
Barbattus, third in command of the fort, intent on breaking
things up seemingly by the power of his exceptionally loud
voice.

Malcus
 
"Enough! YOU'VE GOT EXACTLY 6 SECONDS TO BREAK THIS SHIT
UP AND TELL ME EXACTLY WHY I SHOULDN'T LOCK BOTH YOUR
DUMB ASSES UP IN A CELL!"


Adian
 
"Sir, he was harassing Linnette and this other lovely
woman...I did not want him to hurt her..."


Malcus’s voice was thunderous enough to hurt her eardrums, and
then Adian brought her name into things…Linnette turned back
around and kept her back to the men now, shrinking down in her
seat and hoping very much that everyone would just ignore her.
To be the cause of a bar fight…mortifying! If she could have
willed the floor to just open up and swallow Mari and herself,
she would have done it- but as it was, there was nothing she
could do that would not draw further attention to them, save
sit there and pretend to be invisible.
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Author: Elessars Girl
Date: Mon Dec 22, 2008 12:54 pm
Arthur


Arthur heard the snow covered ground creak and crunch beneath
Casti’s hooves as his massive white steed followed in his
master’s footsteps. Arthur was certain that he’d felt the
heated breath on the back of his neck as the stallion exhaled
a snort close behind. But he did not turn his attentions away
from Merlin. No – Arthur’s serene green eyes remained fixed on
the Woad leader’s unreadable expression.

Merlin
 
"I would not refuse to meet with my kin. But if it is
peace you want, Artorius. Then you must tear down your
mighty stone walls, abandon your prison fortress, and
take your soldiers and your slaves and your despoilers
of the land away from this island forever. You must
leave us as free people, and then we will have peace."


Your kin? Interesting choice of words and certainly playing
upon the noble bloodline of Arthur’s mother….not Uther’s. But
Merlin and Arthur were not family…not in the least. Merlin’s
warriors had taken the lives of many Roman soldiers and
knights….and Arthur still held Merlin responsible for the
fires that had taken the life of Arthur’s mother…..that pain
was fresh and raw even today, some twenty years after her
death.

Arthur smiled at Merlin’s ‘request’ to tear down the Roman
stone walls and outposts that cut across the lands of Britain.
But other than that small smile upon his lips, Arthur gave no
other outward reaction to those before him. It was an
impossible demand to make of Arthur and Merlin knew it.

The cold wintry wind blew at the dark curls of Arthur’s hair,
his wounded and weak side twinged against the chill despite
being nestled safely beneath his armour. And the Commander
ignored both the frosty air that nipped at his face and neck
and the ache in his side to remain fully focused on Merlin.

Merlin
 
"Somehow I do not think that is what you intend, So what
do you want from me, Artorius? Say on, and I will tell
you whether it can be done."


“Your request is – unfortunately – beyond the boundaries of my
authority,” Arthur commented with an even tone; his head
tilting slightly to the side as he crossed his arms behind his
back. The Commander was careful to not fold his arms in a
defensive stance in front of his chest – instead he attempted
to appear open and honest before the Woad leader. And although
Arthur wished to demand an explanation for the recent attacks
on the fortress, he chose to focus on reaching peace by
withholding accusations and demands.

“All that I can offer is my word that your people shall have
safe passage along the stone walls if you will in return agree
to not attack my men and those villagers in my care at Badon.
I ask for your word of a truce – one that I had had faith in
at our last meeting,” Arthur added the latter part in reminder
to the peace treaty that the two men had agreed upon in
Merlin’s camp not even a month ago. Arthur slowly licked at
his chapped bottom lip and waited for the other man to
respond….but it was Merlin’s daughter to speak first.

Arthur’s green eyes and chiseled expression finally turned
from Merlin at hearing Guinevere’s voice from behind. He
looked up at her from over his shoulder while slightly
elevating his chin to hold the assessing gaze in her dark eyes
- confident, proud and sure – were both of them.

Guinevere
 
“Arthur, mighty Commander of Rome...but more British
than he claims. He desires peace, and peace, and peace,
and peace...and yet you fight for an Empire that
believes blood will create harmony. War is your way,
Arthur. War is Rome’s way.”


“War is not my way,” Arthur answered Guinevere’s obvious
ridicule with a placid expression and a steady voice that
would brook no argument. Rome’s way was not war. The Empire
brought prosperity, knowledge, wealth and innovation to all
the realms they entered. Rome was a Christian world and only
fought those that opposed God’s will. But Arthur was not here
to banter over Rome’s purpose here in Britain. He was here to
ensure peace for the good of both the Woads and the
inhabitants of Badon Keep. Period.

“Do we have an accord? Will you consent to peace between us?”
Arthur once again turned his full attention on Merlin as he
spoke. There was no hint of trepidation in his voice, no
wavering in his tone and only sheer determination shone
brightly in Arthur’s emerald green eyes as he held the Woad
leader’s gaze.

Merlin’s people had positioned themselves close now – the lone
Woad warrior on horseback ‘Smith’, a female painted wildly as
any Arthur had seen and the discourteous one Guinevere had
called ‘Nolan’ were protectively surrounding both he and
Merlin. And Guinevere was at Arthur’s back still nestled high
in the saddle on Casti. The Commander knew his position
precarious. And he prayed that his men would remain steadfast
and calm while they awaited the outcome of this meeting. And
if sacrificing his lifeblood would ensure the safety of his
men and those back at the outpost, then Arthur would give it
freely to Merlin. Only to Merlin and only if that be the only
covenant.

Optio Scipio remained seated on his mount – quietly observing
Castus’ tactics in negotiation – elegant mouth shaped into a
respectful line and grey eyes focused on Merlin for any sign
of aggression from the Woad barbarian.
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Author: Darya
Date: Mon Dec 22, 2008 1:08 pm
Neeve


Somehow, Neeve already knew that Neeria would happily accept
her offer to ask more questions before the other woman had
even parted her lips to ask the first one… Why did she have
the feeling she would regret this moment of carelessness?

Neeria
 
"Do you ever miss your native people? Is there any part
of you that feels like a traitor?"


Neeve sucked in a sharp breath but kept her eyes forward. The
ground Neeria was treading on with her questions was getting
more and more dangerous…yet the Woad certainly had no idea
about that. Oh, if only the healer had never given Neeria the
chance to ask more questions. But who could have known that
she would ask SUCH questions…? Yes, the raven-haired did
regret her earlier carelessness…

Again the Woad addressed the healer as if they were equals. As
if she, Neeve, would be a Woad as well. The Briton’s jaw
tensed at the mere thought of this. She might be a child of
this island but she was no Woad…not even close to it. On the
contrary, the raven-haired had learned early to despise the
forest creatures…despite their efforts to defend this country.
Perhaps things would be different if it had not been Woads
that had killed her family…and probably Markaad, too. Those
losses had left marks on the healer’s soul. And never ever
would she consider the blue creatures her native people…

“If by 'my native people' you mean your kind then no…because
we have nothing in common and are not alike. And I think I
have mentioned that before, haven’t I?”, Neeve finally stated,
once more with a certain chill in her voice. The Woads were a
very sensitive topic for her…especially when being related to
them. She was as much a Woad as Jols or Vanora…meaning not at
all. “And since I haven’t betrayed anyone, I can hardly feel
like a traitor, can I?”, she then added and cast a side-glance
at Neeve…

And then the bath-house came into sight and Neeve felt utterly
grateful for this. “There we are…”, the raven-haired said and
pointed at the building in front of them. If they were lucky,
it would not be too busy. The healer would prefer to not
attract too much with a Woad by her side. After all, there was
no renewed peace yet…and Badon’s people had not forgotten the
last attacks or the losses and damages those had caused.
Trying to push those thoughts aside, Neeve sighed slightly and
pushed the door to the building open. “The bath-house is
divided into two parts…the men’s area and the women’s area.
Towels and sponges are available for everyone…”, she
explained, hoping to make Neeria forget about any more
questions regarding her origins. Arching both eyebrows, the
healer gestured for the Woad to enter the bath-house…
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Author: Lancelot
Date: Mon Dec 22, 2008 8:33 pm
Lancelot


Lancelot had to admit he was impressed with this exotic
woman's attitude. She did not wrinkle her nose at him, she did
not act as if he were below her...but he knew better. He
smiled at her as he let go of her hand, her pretty face and
obvious expressions telling him exactly what he needed to
know. She had the art of the social 'mask' down as well as he
did. Interesting that she chose to use it even a bit in his
lowly presence.

Isabella
 
“Indeed, Lancelllottite, I find this entire place
intriguing. The blunt stone walls and square windows are
most mysterious and enigmatic. My own home pales in
comparison. I would ask for a tour, but I fear I’ve
suffered enough beauty for one day. This place is an
abhorration to Rome. I wish to be gone as soon as
possible...I have been riding for many weeks, and to
what? A working fortress? I have never heard such a
ridiculous notion. How long will Arthur be gone?"


Lancelot's marred and dirty face pinched into a frown; the
wind whipped at his hair and he resisted the urge to mash it
down in the presence of 'nobility.' Instead, he cocked his
head and followed her, even though she could not possibly have
any notion where she was going. He allowed his longer stride
to catch her, and with one backward glance to make sure the
Saxon Derfel was coming with them, he turned all his attention
on the chatterbox beside him.

"Lancelot," he said once more, automatically. It had taken the
Romans months to pronounce his name correctly, and even Arthur
didn't have it quite right. But he was close enough - and the
only one who'd cared enough to pay attention, and by the gods,
but he'd better come back alive, or Lancelot would bring the
fire of fucking doom down on the Magician and his 'family.'

"My lovely lady, this place is an abbhoration to anywhere, so
don't think yourself special," he laughed as they walked, and
soon enough the brick building that housed the officer's wives
came into view. "And I must see this Jerusalem of yours
sometime, if it is as different as it sounds. My own home is
far from the grandeur of the wilds of Britain, I can assure
you." He rubbed at his aching forehead as he held the door to
the quarters building open. "After you, of course."

He waited for her to say something, or enter, or whatever, but
Lancelot was fast loosing patience with this bright, caged
bird whom he'd had no idea was coming to Badon. He grit his
teeth until his jaw popped, and squinted up at the sky - by
Hadrian's balls, but could the sun make up its mind? He shook
his head and wondered if he'd ever get two moments to string
together to wash his stinking flesh - which at the present was
beginning to itch like he had fleas.

He considered the proximity to the Woad prisoner he'd had
earlier, and thought perhaps he wasn't that far off in his
asumption. Grinning to himself, he had a vision of Neeve
trying to corral the wild child into 'normal' clothing and a
bath, and had to bite at his lip to keep from laughing
disgustedly.

"Madam - there is no such thing here but working fortresses.
What did you expect? A castle on a cloud? A bevy of knights in
armour waiting on you hand and foot? Servants by the score,
green fields in constant bloom, deer and fox running free for
your hunting pleasure?" He narrowed his eyes at her as he
reached out a hand and fingered the fine fabric of her sleeve
briefly. "I have to wonder what a great fool your father was
to send you here. Welcome to hell."

Wind, always wind, tried to rip the door from his hands, but
he gripped hard, his cold digits almost tearing at the wood to
hold it in place. One thing in this forsaken place would obey
him, damn it. One thing.

"Arthur will be back when he's back. He's the fortress
commander, and does what he will no matter any man's opinion."
He made no attempt to keep the darkness out of his tone. "He's
making the peace with the local - tribe, but knowing them, I
can imagine he won't have the best of luck. I had hoped to see
him - them, the rest of the men as well - back within two
days. It's not a far ride - and then, my lady, you can have
the only picture of 'courtliness' here at Badon at your beck
and call. Arthur does have manners," he spat the last words,
and jerked his head at Isabella and some of her men that had
shown up behind them.

"In or out, love?"
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Author: golden_trillium
Date: Tue Dec 23, 2008 10:11 am
Merlin


Arthur
 
“Your request is– unfortunately– beyond the boundaries
of my authority. All that I can offer is my word that
your people shall have safe passage along the stone
walls if you will in return agree to not attack my men
and those villagers in my care at Badon. I ask for your
word of a truce– one that I had had faith in at our last
meeting.”


Yes, yes…more or less what Merlin had suspected the Commander
would ask for. Merlin nodded understandingly, but his heart
was as steel on this point. A new truce would not please the
Gods. The first one had not, and therefore there would be no
more, not from Merlin and not while the Gods instructed him
thus. Safe passage for the day, maybe, but that was all Merlin
was prepared to grant. As for the rest- as soon as they were
able, they would keep fighting. Looking around at his
warriors, at steadfast Nolan, and dark, sardonic Smith, and
flame-haired Ceinwyn, and all the rest, Merlin was filled with
renewed confidence of this. They might be defeated for now,
sent back to their hidden village to keep it in secret for a
while while they built up their strength, but ultimately, they
would keep fighting. They would not rest till the enemy were
driven from their land. It was their duty- their duty to make
no concessions, to give not the least little thing to the
Romans who despoiled their land. To do anything else was a
terrible mistake.

Arthur licked his lips, waiting for Merlin’s answer with his
hands clasped behind his back, amusingly almost like a child
awaiting word from his elders. A smile, and not a particularly
kind one, tugged at the Woad leader’s lips, but only briefly-
while he was pondering the Romans’ words, letting him wonder a
little what the answer would be, Guinevere had managed to
guide Arthur’s white horse up alongside Merlin and now spoke
to the Commander herself, looking down her fine, straight
nose.

Guinevere
 
“Arthur, mighty Commander of Rome...but more British
than he claims. He desires peace, and peace, and peace,
and peace...and yet you fight for an Empire that
believes blood will create harmony. War is your way,
Arthur. War is Rome’s way.”


Arthur
 
“War is not my way. Do we have an accord? Will you
consent to peace between us?”


Merlin gave Guinevere a stern look and held up a hand
quellingly, forestalling any further word from her for now. He
could sense the heat between his daughter and the Roman, the
intensity and fascination that built between them seemingly
whenever they looked at each other, and it continued to
interest him- but he would ponder that later. Later, when the
Romans had been sent for now off his people’s land, and he had
more leisure to think about and determine what its uses might
be. For now…

“I have told you what true peace will require, Artorius, and
you have said it is not within your power to command it.”
Merlin shrugged resignedly, now all sincere, earnest regret
that such a thing was not possible. No blame, no accusations,
at least not yet.

“Therefore, sadly, there can be no peace between us. I can
give you my word that we will not harm you and the men with
you this day.” Merlin’s gaze swept around the group that
Arthur had brought with him, eying each man briefly in turn.
The Optio- arrogant fool- the Sarmatian scout, sitting
watchful as the hawk he usually carried, but which was not in
evidence now, the other Sarmatian, burly as the stone walls he
defended, and four others- all felt the touch of Merlin’s gaze
before he withdrew it, returning to Arthur and continuing on
in a civil, almost pleasant tone.

“But beyond that I promise nothing. The lives of all Romans
who stay on this island are forfeit- it is only a matter of
time.” The pleasantry was gone now, and Merlin’s voice and
face were hard as the rocks that studded his beloved woods.
Time- perhaps a very long time. But only time, and effort.
Only those things, and the Gods would give them the victory.
All they had to do was to keep the faith until then, to never
lose sight of the goal, to press on though whatever darkness
threatened, until the light shone again.
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Author: TwistOfShadows
Date: Tue Dec 23, 2008 11:56 am
Eyla


Eyla Attriabes was stunning. Her golden skin stood out against
the frost covered ground, and her dark eyelashes bestowed her
a pretty grace. She appeared the perfect courtesan. Her dark
skirts were tight around her petite waist, and poured outwards
around her dainty ankles. Her bodice was fixed around her
swollen bosoms, and her cleavage was dewy and golden. She wore
her dark hair down, and it cascaded down her shoulder blades
and arms. She was a woman built to gain attention, and she
lacked any shame at all. In another world, she might have been
shy, reserved and modest...but in Badon Hill? Eyla was famous
for her cheeky flirtation and adept sexual skill. Oh, but the
woman was also manipulative. She could be deceptive, and use
her feminine charm to achieve her own wants. It was a
prostitute’s talent, and she could not deny its prominence. As
she stood beside Darya, she eyed the dark Sarmatian with a
fond and flirtatious intent. Eyla did not understand simple
friendship, it was not in her vocabulary. The whore had slept
with almost every acquaintance, and such was custom. She did
not feel ashamed or embarrassed, but rather proud of herself.
A simple friend was a useless accessory, no?

Darya
 
“This…thing…is a hawk…and it belongs to Tristan. It is a
most loyal company, an outstanding hunter and an equally
good messenger and spy. However, as you can see, this
hawk is injured and since its master is away, I have the
honour to take care of it. Perhaps one has to grow up in
the wilderness to understand the true beauty of animals
like this…apparently an experience you lack.”


Eyla watched Darya stroke the vile thing and wrinkled her
nose. It was big, black and hideous. Who cared if it was
loyal? Eyla did not seek a loyal companion, or would find that
thing an honour. It was ugly, and the whore laughed at Darya’s
words. Arthur had surely not blessed her world with happiness
then? Surely the Roman would have made her less barbaric, and
more cheerful? The whore shrugged her shoulders and dropped a
hand to her skirts, fingering the material gently.

“Or apparently an experience I never sought, sweet one.” She
purred softly, pouting her lips with a gentle and suggestive
mischief. It was a rude remark, but Eyla had little patience
for misery. A dark twinkle glittered in her eyes, and a wide
dimple appeared in her cheek. “If I were you, I’d let the ugly
bugger take flight. It’s clearly making you unhappy...or
perhaps that is your everyday face?” Eyla tilted her head to
the side, and giggled. Gods, but Darya needed cheering up!

Darya
 
“We shall…”


“Good. It’s freezing out here.” Eyla clipped the words with a
smile, and walked at the Sarmatian’s side. Her long skirts
dragged against the frost, and she tutted loudly. They would
be made wet, and very uncomfortable...what better reason to
get undressed?! Eyla tossed her dark hair over her shoulders
and allowed it to curl down her spine. She breathed an
exaggerated sigh, and then turned to Darya. “So tell me,
pretty one, are you always this unhappy? Has life dealt you an
unfair hand? Because your misery is very dull, you know? No
man wants his bed warmed by the grumpy mistress. It is very
very unattractive.” Eyla pouted, and feigned a sullen
expression. It did not suit her, and she laughed, delighted
with herself.
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Author: lady ione
Date: Tue Dec 23, 2008 2:46 pm
Brendyn


Arthur
 
“Your request is – unfortunately – beyond the boundaries
of my authority,” “All that I can offer is my word that
your people shall have safe passage along the stone
walls if you will in return agree to not attack my men
and those villagers in my care at Badon. I ask for your
word of a truce – one that I had had faith in at our
last meeting,”


It seemed that both Merlin and Arthur were seeking peace, but
in different ways.

What Merlin had asked for was near impossible unless the
Roman's were given the order to leave from Rome itself.

Brendyn frowned as the wind blew through his red cloak making
him shiver inwardly.

His resolve remained the same: from what he had heard since
arriving at the fort a few days ago, both sides had lost so
many innocent lives as well as those who chose to fight like
himself. To Brendyn, it was not hard to see who the aggrivator
was. As long as the woads attacked, the Roman's would defend
themselves and the fort. The Romans may have shed blood, but
those were the ones who did not even try for peace. Those who
were thirsty for bloodshed gave the rest of the Romans a bad
name. Not all of them were bad. Arthur as well as the men in
the group... they all wanted peace. Surely there had to be a
way to unite the two warring factions in a peaceful manner.
The young soldier listened intently to more of what was
said....

Guinevere
 
“Arthur, mighty Commander of Rome...but more British
than he claims. He desires peace, and peace, and peace,
and peace...and yet you fight for an Empire that
believes blood will create harmony. War is your way,
Arthur. War is Rome’s way.”


Arthur
 
“War is not my way,” “Do we have an accord? Will you
consent to peace between us?”


Brendyn's eyebrow raised at the young woman on the horse. She
had looked intelligent, but Guinevere could not have been
further from the truth. The Breton felt that what Arthur had
said in reply summed up how he and the others felt: War was
not their way! There were only a few that made war just to be
making war, but there were those who wanted peace. Peace, so
that if both were fighting against a common enemy, they could
fight side by side. Peace worked that way: to help the other
out in time of need. Both sides were hurting, and their losses
had been great from what he had heard.

Why continue fighting?

Brendyn watched the reaction of the woad leader. From where
Tyranus stood between Titrus, Quintus, Bors and Jols, Brendyn
could not tell whether the woad leader was just feeling overly
confident just because his men surrounded him, or what. The
expression was neutral, so Brendyn tried to guess what the man
was thinking. As a matter of fact, both men's expressions
belied what they were probably thinking on the inside. This
was definitly something Brendyn knew he'd have to learn the
art of. The cold wind bit at his face, and made the slightly
red jaw sting a bit more. damned woad female. I wish she would
have known that if I wanted her dead, I would have killed her
before taking care of my horse... He could not believe how
stupid she had been in assuming that he was going to attack.
It was in the past though, and now he was more intent on the
mission at hand. Arthur's words hung in the chilled air for a
pause, until Merlin replied...

Merlin
 
“I have told you what true peace will require, Artorius,
and you have said it is not within your power to command
it.” “Therefore, sadly, there can be no peace between
us. I can give you my word that we will not harm you and
the men with you this day.” “But beyond that I promise
nothing. The lives of all Romans who stay on this island
are forfeit- it is only a matter of time.”


No peace between us? did I hear that right? Brendyn's mouth
almost dropped down in disbelief. If the lives of the Roman's
were forfit, then the lives of the woads were forefit as well.
How foolish was that? To turn down peace like a piece of
garbage! Did this great leader not care about the lives of his
people? To just stand back and risk all of their lives in the
name of... of what? Of their freedom? Really there was no
difference between them and Rome: both fought for freedom. Did
this leader not realize that by making a truce with Arthur,
that they could unite to make Britain safer from such as the
Saxons and Jutes? The young man glanced over at those who had
remained silent around him wondering what they were thinking
of all of this?

What was Arthur going to reply?
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