King Times Knight? (Shakhmaty and zefieyuki)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Shakhmaty on 24-08-2009, 00:18:48</h2>
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				Title: <strong>King Times Knight? (Shakhmaty and zefieyuki)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Shakhmaty</strong> on <strong>24-08-2009, 00:18:48</strong>
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				<div align="center"><strong><em>KING TIMES KNIGHT?</em></strong></div><br><div align="center"><em>All is fair in love and war, and to the victor go the spoils...</em></div><br>There comes a time in any battle, and any war, when the tide begins to turn. One side is winning, and by a wide margin, and then all of a sudden...In the blink of an eye, and the flap of a bird's wing, that side loses its momentum. It does not matter whether that army is White or Black, or whether it considers itself to be "good" or "evil". It only matters that the winners have now become the losers, and now they must fight at a great disadvantage. They might not be able to overcome it...What then? Will they fight until the end, or surrender?<br><br>My name is Shakhmaty--in my native tongue, that means "chessist" or "chess player". It was this situation in which I found myself, shackled in iron chains that were redolent with the scent of rust. I was bound in a queue with nine of my other brothers-in-arms. Myself? I am not your typical knight. I despise cooking, cleaning, bearing children and changing their reeking undercloths, and all of the tasks that women are supposed to love sacrificing their own lives to do. I wanted to fight, especially against the so-called "White Army". Against their "goodness" and their "godliness", we were the "evil heathens". My captain conscripted every body he could get into a suit of armor, including a female one. <br><br><em>Gods' wounds!</em> I could barely see anything through the eye-slit in my helmet except the iron-clad back of the man in front of me. Where were we, and what was going to be done with us? Were we to live as prisoners of war, or die? Only time would tell--a short time, in my opinion. These chains weighed so damn much! I heard a harsh voice call out, <em>"Halt!",</em> and so we all halted. <br><br>"My lords!" called out the voice, with a slightly mocking tone. "All of you are prisoners of war. It is up to our King to decide if you will live or die." The voice paused, and I tried to glimpse anything I could--even a flash of his eyes--through my helmet. It was a futile attempt. All I could see was the orange flicker of torchlight. "If I had my way, I would put all of you to the sword. You're the Black Army! You worship pagan gods--false ones--and that's the least of the reasons why! You've killed men, women and children, and now you'll pay!" <br><br>I smiled beneath my helmet. Hadn't the knights of the "White Army" also killed <em>our</em> men, women, and children? That was war, and now this baying hound of a man was going to condemn us for engaging in the exact same activities? What hypocrisy! If I was going to die, I would at least die knowing what I'd done, not pretending I was innocent and pure. By the same token, I would also perish with the knowledge that the "White Army" was lying to itself to protect its image. <br><br>I heard the man spit into one of the faces of my comrades. Which one? I dearly hoped it wasn't Ruolf. He had been one of the only men in our battalion not to care that I was female and want to have his way with me. To him, I was a warrior, not a woman. I was his equal on the battlefield, not his slave in the bedroom. If it was Ruolf, I swore I'd make the spitter pay dearly for his insult. <br><br>He laughed and laughed. All he could do was laugh. The idiot! He sneered:<br><br>"One by one, I'm going to rip off all your helmets--preferably with your heads still stuck in them!" He gnashed his teeth. "If you have any last words, fools, I'd prefer you say them now." All of us remained silent. We would not give him the satisfaction of saying our dying monologues to anyone but the King himself.<br><br>
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