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| December 2008 | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 28 2010, 01:27 PM (2,122 Views) | |
| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 02:42 AM Post #91 |
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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...
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.
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 | Jun 3 2010, 02:44 AM Post #92 |
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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.
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.
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 | Jun 3 2010, 02:46 AM Post #93 |
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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…
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 | Jun 3 2010, 02:47 AM Post #94 |
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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...
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 | Jun 3 2010, 02:48 AM Post #95 |
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Author: Darya Date: Sun Dec 21, 2008 1:57 pm Darya
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.
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 | Jun 3 2010, 02:49 AM Post #96 |
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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 | Jun 3 2010, 02:51 AM Post #97 |
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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?
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.
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.
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
"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 | Jun 3 2010, 02:53 AM Post #98 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Mon Dec 22, 2008 9:07 am Adian and Vanora
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...
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...
....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...
... 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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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 02:56 AM Post #99 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Mon Dec 22, 2008 9:51 am Linnette
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….
…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’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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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 02:58 AM Post #100 |
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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.
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.
“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.
“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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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 03:00 AM Post #101 |
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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?
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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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 03:01 AM Post #102 |
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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.
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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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 03:03 AM Post #103 |
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Author: golden_trillium Date: Tue Dec 23, 2008 10:11 am Merlin
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.
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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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 03:05 AM Post #104 |
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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?
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!
“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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| golden_trillium | Jun 3 2010, 03:06 AM Post #105 |
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Author: lady ione Date: Tue Dec 23, 2008 2:46 pm Brendyn
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....
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...
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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