To Undergo So Many Perilous Days (Methos and Chatoyant Silk)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Solaine on 29-10-2008, 08:54:14</h2>
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				Title: <strong>To Undergo So Many Perilous Days (Methos and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>29-10-2008, 08:54:14</strong>
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				<em>I sing of warfare and a man at war.<br>From the sea-coast of Troy in early days<br>He came to Italy by destiny,<br>To our Lavinian western shore,<br>A fugitive, this captain, buffeted<br>. . .<br>Till he could found a city and bring home<br>His gods to Laetium, land of the Latin race,<br>The Alban lords, and the high walls of Rome.<br>Tell me the causes now, O Muse, how galled<br>. . .<br>From her old wound, the queen of gods compelled him—<br>. . . <br>To undergo so many perilous days<br>And enter on so many trials. Can anger<br>Black as this prey on the minds of heaven?</em><br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; -----Book I, <em>The Aeneid</em>, Virgil<br><br><br>&nbsp;<br><em>Bitter fumes of ravaging fire, the tortured screams of men in their death throes, rough hands and spiked armor digging into her tender flesh as she was carried away, the coppery taste of blood from her cut, swollen lips where a Voreiian had struck her... <br>&nbsp;<br>These were all that Aireanna, daughter of Cullus, could remember of her nightmare as her city was pillaged and burned to the ground that night.&nbsp; The acrid smoke from the destroying fire had kept her tearing eyes mercifully blinded to the rest as one of the invaders carted her off like a trophy on his horse, leaving behind the inferno that had been her home toward a hell that awaited her.</em><br><br><br>&nbsp;<br>The rocky path that the Voreiians took followed the jagged edge of the coastline.&nbsp; The late autumn night was falling swiftly, with the blood-red glow of their cruelty still blazing behind them but fading as they trudged into the darkness towards Acate, their fortified city in the south.&nbsp; Because of the long, ragged file of prisoners trailing behind them, feet and hands bound together, they progressed much slower--- though not for lack of persuasion.&nbsp; Whips and curses ripped furiously into quivering, weary flesh, forcing their stumbling shuffles into slightly faster shuffles.&nbsp; Some, already wounded or beaten, fell by the wayside, and were left there to die without even a backward glance from their captors. Only anguished, tormented looks sent back over the shoulders of their clansmen in the sad procession mourned their passing.<br><br>Once Aireanna had regained consciousness-- she had fought her captor on the horse until he struck her again-- she fought again, and this time he had been disgusted enough to drop her to the ground without ceremony.&nbsp; While they bound her she had struggled all the way, cursing in outrage with all the shrillness of a scullery wench.&nbsp; <br><br>"Aye, I will enjoy rutting this one tonight," the horseman muttered, licking thick lips.&nbsp; He had meant to reserve the daughter of the Lord of Lumani for the slave market, being such a pretty little thing, but he had changed his mind.&nbsp; <br><br>"Go rut yourself, you putrid son of a whore!" Aireanna screamed at him, and was rewarded by a brutal backhand slap from a Voreiian foot-soldier that sent her reeling to the ground.&nbsp; It tore the fight out of her, and she was roughly attached, dazed and stumbling, to the line of prisoners and dragged along like everybody else.&nbsp; <br><br>Hands from behind steadied her wordlessly, and she looked back wearily to see it was one of the servants of her father's house.&nbsp; She tried to smile at him,&nbsp; grateful for that one touch, glad to be with her people even if it was in a plodding slog of misery.&nbsp; She would rather be miserable with her father's servants, she thought, than cosseted and groped on the hateful Voreiian captain's horse.<br><br>It was a long march until sundown, and by that time Aireanna was afraid she would join the heartbreaking trail of death left behind by their enemies.&nbsp; And she almost believed she would welcome it.&nbsp; Grief-wrenching thoughts of her father shook her body for a long time until there were no more tears left, every sob as silent as that long train of her suffering clanspeople.&nbsp; She wouldn't give the Voreiians the satisfaction of seeing her break down. <br><br>When the procession of conqueror and conquered came to a stop, she was perilously close to collapsing, but with her clansman's help she managed to stay on her feet.&nbsp; Her sandals were almost worn to the sole, her torn tunic barely covering her, her pale sweat-dampened body veined with bruises and cuts.&nbsp; Her lips felt twice their size from abuse, dry and cracked and thirsting for any moisture, and she couldn't help jealously eyeing the Voreiians who drank from their water pouches at the break of their journey.&nbsp; <br><br>The Voreiians herded the prisoners together to sit in one large circle in the middle of their encampment.&nbsp; Water was given out sparingly from calfskin pouches, and if some of the prisoners didn't get any at all, too bad.&nbsp; After wetting her lips greedily with a handful of water, Aireanna huddled, shivering from the cold night air, between the servant and another Lumanian, trying to make herself small and hoping she would be forgotten among that mass of wretched humanity.<br>&nbsp;<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: To Undergo So Many Perilous Days (Methos and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>31-10-2008, 06:41:11</strong>
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				Archelochus stared into the relative gloom of the night as the silvery light of the moon offered a measure of illumination. With the night a chill had settled upon the rolling Italian landscape, for it had turned hilly at the fringes of sweeping plains of Latium. As though to add to his misery droplets of moisture began to fall from the sky and he heard them patter against his helmet. Each rain drop struck his helm's bronze form with its sweeping cheek pieces, nose guard, the dipping extension across the neck and its horsehair crest extending upwards over its rounded form. He pulled the blacked hued cloak he wore tighter around his body as he sought some warmth and protection from the rain. The bronze cuirass he wore with heavy layers of linen beneath it seemed to do little to ward off the cold. He carried a round wooden shield coated with bronze in his left hand, while in his right he cradled a spear. Archelochus wore a kilt of the same black hue as his cloak and over which strips of studded leather extended downwards from the waist. His feet were shorn with studded sandals with straps that wound upwards over his calves. His shins were shod with bronze greaves rounding out his suit of armor. A long and keen edged sword was slung at his waist, sheathed for the moment. <br><br>Archelochus was now all of twenty four years of age. His father, whom had claimed the same name, had fought with Aeneas against the invading Myceneans in Troy, when Archelochus had been but a boy. The armor he now wore had been his father’s, unfortunately Ajax had relieved his father and a grave many Trojans of their need for it. He had managed to smuggle it out of the city with him when he’d joined his grandfather and uncle in escaping the city’s end. Eventually Archelochus had made his way to the colony in Italy where his father’s old comrade , Aeneas, had settled. Although there had been scarce a moment of peace since Trojan refugees had arrived. They’d been welcomed by the Latins in the area of Latium but Italy itself proved restless, with warring tribes abounding. It was that unrest which had Archelochus garbed in his armor and sitting upon the back of a horse. The reins of the horse hung loosely at the horse’s neck as he offered it direction with his knees.<br><br>Archelochus was a fairly tall man, standing just a shade over six feet in height. A youth spent preparing and then surviving the rather turbulent years that had passed in Latium since the arrival of his people had caused his broad shouldered form to fill out with a potent muscularity. His frame possessed brawny planes of muscle that allowed him to shoulder the heavy burden of the bronze armor upon him with little visible discomfort. His features were described as handsome, being angular and masculine in their make up. Dark eyes, slightly curly black hair and deeply tanned skin left him striking although in a conventionally Mediterranean fashion.<br><br>He rode with fifty other men from Latium, a number of them hailed from the former Trojan kingdom, others were native to the area. Archelochus found the Latin language rather strange sounding although he’d long since picked it up. For while Greek remained the spoken language among the refugees of Troy, the language of Hector was not always so readily understood by their Latin comrades. This necessitated that any dialogue amongst a mixed group be in Latin. Archelochus had been sent with his fifty men to scout along the borders of Latium and into the lands of the Lumani. There had been rumors that the war between the Voreii and Lumani had began to go badly for the Lumani, and fearful that the Voreii should acquire too much influence assistance had been pledged to the Lumani. However, little of that assistance had been rendered as yet. For the Latins had been busy at harvest, and feared marching their standing military units from their territory before raising any others as it would open themselves to attack.<br><br>His men were mounted, but they were not proper cavalry, for they had no intention of fighting upon their horses. The horses themselves were simply ridden for the added fleetness of their movement, as Archelochus and the other riders would dismount to fight upon foot should they happen upon their enemies. However, the word of impeding disaster had made the need for better information pressing hence scouting on foot was deemed unsuitable. They had thus far ridden several hours into the territory of the Lumani and as yet he’d discovered little of what had transpired.<br><br>Archelochus had led his men in a southerly direction and towards the coastline. For the lands of the Voreii lay further south still. He slowed his horse as the scent of smoke began to fill his nostrils and upon the horizon smoldering embers appeared to be where a Lumani city should be located. His lips pursed as a low whistle sounded. He raised his spear into the air signaling for the others to halt. He road forwards towards the city slowly as his eyes scanned along its walls. Its gates appeared to have been breached and the city itself had been fired as had the fields about it. “Ruined..entirely ruined.” He remarked, he saw no stirrings of life as they road closer to the city.<br><br>Some may have turned back towards Latium at this point, for the Lumani were ruined their city burned and it would seem their people scattered. However, a burning city caused a well of emotion to rise within the young scion of Troy. Across a distant sea what had once been his own home had suffered such a fate. Now as others were forced to flee their city, he was not about to turn back. He wheeled his horse to look to the remaining warriors as he stated “We’ll press on quickly and see if we can’t find any survivors and escort them to Latium.” With that intention declared the horsemen pressed onwards to the south towards the city of Acate.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: To Undergo So Many Perilous Days (Methos and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>02-11-2008, 06:01:09</strong>
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				Bonfires soon blazed in the encampment of the Voreii, with the sibilant thunder of the ocean almost drowned out by the discordant, raucous laughter of men enjoying the spoils of conquest.&nbsp; The stomach-churning smell of two-hundred battle-crazed men and their piss and excrement, the sight of struggling silhouettes in various parts of the camp, large hulking shapes gathering ravenously around some Lumani female sobbing and begging for mercy and screaming in pain, pounded on Aireanna's senses relentlessly, her breathing coming in sick, shallow gasps and leeching what little courage she had until she was a trembling bundle of fear.<br>&nbsp;<br>The manservant who had helped her touched her arm. "Stay close to me, my lady.&nbsp; Perhaps they will forget you."&nbsp; &nbsp;He glanced towards a group of Voreii who were imbibing wine, much of it culled from Lumani vineyards; for the moment, they ignored the huddling circle of captives who were shrouded in flickering shadows cast by the fires.&nbsp; He positioned himself so that his larger form was covering Aireanna from the Voreii's view.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>"Th-thank you," Aireanna whispered.&nbsp; She laid her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.&nbsp; "What is your name?&nbsp; I will never forget this."&nbsp; She was certain this memory would remain vividly with her, for she knew she would not live long enough to forget it.&nbsp; She only regretted she would not be able to properly reward this Lumani in the way the daughter of Cullus was accustomed to.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>"Dothan, my lady," he mumbled. Aireanna surmised he was only a year or two older than her eighteen years. "Perhaps you should try to sleep.&nbsp; You will need it tomorrow." &nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>His encouraging tone was rather forced, she thought, yet she was deeply grateful for his transparent attempt at hinting she would live that night to see the next morning, unscathed.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>"I cannot sleep."&nbsp; She covered her ears at the sound of another scream, ending in hysterical sobs, then fading to silence... the last piercing her consciousness like a lance more than the din of battle.&nbsp; A sob rose in her for the woman.&nbsp; The woman was somebody's wife, perhaps, or daughter, or sister.&nbsp; She might even know her by sight...&nbsp; and she covered her face in hot shame at her cowardly gladness that it wasn't her.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br>"Try," he urged. "Lean on me for warmth."<br>&nbsp;<br>"How can I let this happen to them while I sit here, sleeping?" &nbsp;she whispered. <br>&nbsp;<br>Dothan didn't reply for a few moments, then he said in a low voice, "There is nothing you can do for them, my lady.&nbsp; For any of us. The only thing you can do now is to live---&nbsp; for your father.&nbsp; That's what he would have wanted me to do--- to keep you living, to protect you."&nbsp; &nbsp;Emotion worked for a moment in his face, then he schooled himself.&nbsp; He had not seen his master die, but after seeing a hundred or so Voreii storm the stately home of the Lord and his daughter and leaving few alive in their rampage, he knew he would never see his master again.&nbsp; "In fact, it's the only thing that would keep me living."<br>&nbsp;<br>Her smile was twisted and full of pain.&nbsp; "Keep <em>me</em> living for what?&nbsp; Slavery and shame?&nbsp; I would rather join my father. I---"&nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br>"Where is that fancy Lumani whore?" &nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>It was the booming, commanding voice of the Captain, a little merry with wine, and Aireanna's smile disappeared, her throat locking in terror. Volnius strode towards the circle of prisoners, his leather armor already discarded and leaving only a dingy, bloodied, open-necked tunic, breeches and animal-skin boots. He was an enormous hulk of man, coarse long hair wild around his face and shoulders, barrel-chested and thick with muscle.&nbsp; It had been a very good day for him, and he intended to end it in the same manner he had performed that day--- to lay waste to the last remaining innocence of the Voreii's enemy.<br>&nbsp;<br>He ranged slowly around the prisoners, none of whom met his eyes.&nbsp; He stumbled a little and seemed to weave as he walked.&nbsp; Aireanna trembled behind Dothan and hoped with growing panic that the beast would be too blind with drunkenness to pick her out among so many. But she had forgotten about her hair.&nbsp; Although streaked with gray soot from the fires, the bright red-gold of long, untethered waves was unmistakable, even in the semi-darkness.&nbsp; When the Voreii Captain's gaze seemed to pin her down with predatory precision, horror filled her and widened her eyes until she thought they would pop out of her head.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br>&nbsp;<br>"There you are!" &nbsp; A crooked grin split the broad, flat-nosed face, revealing a row of brown, half-rotted teeth. "Did you think you can hide from me, slut? Come here."&nbsp; &nbsp;Aireanna cringed back, looking around wildly for escape, but in three strides he was there, reaching down past Dothan to grab her hair and jerk her up roughly.&nbsp; He sneered. "You're going to find out just what makes a Voreii cock better than a Lumani's." <br><br>She fought him again, her fists and feet striking at him uselessly as she spat and hurled curses and shrieked at him, "Get your hands off me, you spawn of a diseased cur!"&nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br>"Don't touch her!" Dothan bellowed, surprising the Voreii by jumping up and tackling the bigger man with a surge of strength, forcing Volnius to release Aireanna.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>Suddenly free, she stumbled back and cried out in fear and alarm,&nbsp; "Dothan, no!" <br><br>It was too little too late.&nbsp; Volnius was off balance for just a moment, but Dothan was neither a warrior nor in any condition to fight a tough, seasoned veteran of countless wars on the southern Italian peninsula.&nbsp; The roar of bloodlust from the Voreii pierced those who were listening, most of all Aireanna as terror for Dothan kept her frozen in place.&nbsp; There was the briefest of scuffles, and then she barely saw it, it happened so swiftly--- the flash of bronze striking snake-like from its sheath, Volnius' arm clamping around Dothan's head while the other stabbed with a sickening squelch of metal grinding in Dothan's flesh.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>For as long as she lived, she would never forget the expression on Dothan's face as blood spurted from his mouth and he looked at her, surprise mingled with pain and bewilderment... and then the light faded from his eyes and he collapsed on the ground in a heap.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>Volnius bent down, grabbed Dothan's hair and hacked through the neck in three powerful strokes with his dagger, then held up the dripping, gruesome trophy for all the Lumani prisoners to see, his own face contorted in anger and triumph.&nbsp; &nbsp;"I will do worse than this to all of you Lumani dogs if you so much as look at me," &nbsp;he snarled.&nbsp; "That's right, you keep your fucking eyes on the dirt, for that's where you all belong."&nbsp; Then, with a disgusted snort, he hurled the head into the nearest fire, splattering several with blood on its way there. <br>&nbsp;<br>Aireanna swayed on her feet, dangerously close to fainting as she stared at Dothan's body on the ground, her own blood drained from her face just as Dothan's drained on the earth from the headless stump.&nbsp; Nausea rose up inside her, hysteria and madness threatening to undo her mind.&nbsp; Her father lost, her city burnt, her life forfeit, and now the last friend she had... she watched, hatred burning in large, deep-set blue eyes, as Volnius wiped his dagger on Dothan's tunic and slipped it back into its sheath at his waist, laughing at an obscene joke from one of his men.&nbsp; Then something snapped in Aireanna.<br>&nbsp;<br>Perhaps she had been standing so deathly still and white, a female of no particular strength or stature.&nbsp; But none expected her to move so swiftly on bare feet, lunging wordlessly towards the Voreii and snatching the bronze dagger out of its sheath before its owner knew what she was about, and she backed quickly away, pointing the dagger at the startled Voreii who surged towards her.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>"Stand back, I know how to use this!"&nbsp; Only the most rudimentary basic skills in self-defense, but she made herself sound cool and composed. And although her hand did tremble a little, there was something about the haughty angle of her head, the set of soft, full lips in a disdainful line, that gave Volnius and the others pause... but only for a few moments.<br>&nbsp;<br>Volnius barked out in laughter, then the laughter ceased suddenly as he took a step towards her, his expression one of dark menace.&nbsp; "Give it back to me, girl, or I will carve that pretty face and soft flesh of yours until even the whores in Acate will look at you in disgust."<br><br>She suddenly had a quiver of sudden realization, of clear-minded decision.&nbsp; She brought the knife to her pale, slender throat, and this time her hand didn't tremble.&nbsp; She said in a voice of unnatural calm, "I will be dead before you can pry it from my hand."
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				Title: <strong>Re: To Undergo So Many Perilous Days (Methos and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>03-11-2008, 10:14:10</strong>
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				Archelochus and his band of Trojans and Latins traveled swiftly from the smoldering ruins of the city of the Lumani. They rode through the rolling countryside at a brisk pace and seemed to find little life. They saw burned out or abandoned farms as they traveled onwards, and the odd corpse was seen strewn along the road. However, of living people they had as yet seen not a one. The signs that a large number of people had passed this way were obvious. For hoof prints and boot prints abounded along the road in numbers that normal travel would never have justified.&nbsp; Although the disordered array of footprints that wandered off the road and back onto it lead the Trojan warrior to believe that a large group of disorganized people – probably prisoners had been lead this way. Well either that or the Voreii had elected to drink rather excessively as they traveled. <br><br>The rain eventually lessened as Archelochus rode further south with his band of soldiers. Relentlessly they pushed on through the night seeking to catch up with what they thought was either a large number of enemies, refugees, prisoners or some mixture of the three possibilities. While they had not seen any of the Lumani, they had also seen an absence of Voreii. This led Archelochus to believe that the Voreii must be upon the move. While they had no seen the Voreii if as he thought that they followed a group of Lumani that were likely prisoners, it seemed likely the Voreii too would soon make their appearance. The night seemed to grow darker with the passage of hours, although mercifully the fullness of the moon provided sufficient illumination for them to continue their midnight ride.<br><br>The Trojan was cognoscente that he could not press himself, nor men on beasts onwards indefinitely through the night. Exhaustion would catch up to them eventually. However, it took only an hour and a half of riding before they saw a ways ahead of them a series of fires gathered together in a way that seemed to indicate a rather sizable camp. Archelochus slowed his horse and raised his arm for his comrades to do likewise. He called a halt to their equestrian pursuit as an even closer approach would best be made upon foot. He waved over towards the woods off to the side of the road and there he and his men disappeared from sight. There he dismounted rather agilely, and his example was followed as the Trojans came to their feet. Their horses were soon tethered amidst the trees and several men were left to guard them. Thereafter, Archelochus and the remainder of his patrol began to creep towards the edge of the camp rather quietly.<br><br>Archelochus and his warriors moved through the forest as close to silently as much as men in armor could manage. Were it not for the drunkenness and debauchery transpiring among the Voreii camp they would likely have been discovered. For armored men are not so easily mistaken for a firm breeze or rummaging animal. Through the gloom Archelochus gazed at Voreii camp and the sounds of shouting filled his ears. Anger seemed to mingle with the screams that he recognized as that of the violated. The remnants of a defeated people usually found themselves as refugees at best, but rape and slavery most often accompanied their defeat. Brutality was not something that the Trojan necessarily shied away from. For a certain amount of violence and brutishness was necessary to be effective in battle. However, what he beheld seemed to suggest the Voreii was relishing their role as the victor just a little bit too much. Their reputation for lechery and savagery preceded them.<br><br>Archelochus turned towards the soldiers gathered around him. He took a squatted stance among the brush and his dark eyes flickered over their shadowed features. In a rather hushed voice he remarked “We’ll free the prisoners but we must act quickly. Altogether we’ll storm into the camp and kill those standing guard. Then turn on those whom have been drinking and fucking as they won’t have their weapons and armor with them or be prepared or in much of a state for combat. If we strike them hard and fast we’ll break them before they have any chase to organize any real resistance. They’re too many of them for a fair fight so we shall have to work together and crush them before they have any time to react.” Bronze helmed heads nodded their assent to this course of action, and with that agreement he drew up to his full height as he moved towards the very edge of the forest. He waited for his men to gather about him, then his arm raised his spear in the air to hold them back. Then when the company had assembled he lowered his spear and yelled “For Aeneas!”<br><br>His battle cry was joined by the voices of the men who charged forwards with him. The name of their leader was at their lips as the Trojans and Latins stormed out of the forest a menacing wedge of bronze armored bodies. Horse hair crested helms and bronze shields and spear points glimmered in the moonlight as sandaled feet struck the earth beneath them. In unison they surged forwards and through the camp and towards the group of two dozen guards who had been left to monitor the prisoners.&nbsp; The Voreii guards turned to meet this new and unexpected threat as a cry went up among them, but as they formed to meet the wall of advancing enemies they found spear points burying themselves in their bodies as the Trojan soldiers seemed to roll over them like an advancing storm. Brutally and repeatedly, the tips of spears thrust through the bodies of the guards until they were left to slump and exsanguinate.<br><br>Voreii warriors seemed to turn and rise from their beds and their fires to see what had taken place. Hostile warriors appearing in their camp caused them to scramble about seeking weaponry and armor, their uncoordinated panic threw the camp into total chaos. Amongst the chaos the Trojans and Latins seemed to thrive at slaughter. The points of their spears pierced unarmored bodies mercilessly, jabbing those broad tipped blades into the bodies of their enemies as they struggled in their uncoordinated manner.<br><br>The Latins and Trojans seemed to move rather swiftly, charging through the camp. They trampled over several sleeping Voreii and speared several others in their stupor. No mercy was offered to their enemies as they surged into them. Their sharp spear points flickered out and sank deeply into flesh and buried into organs as they found their enemies asleep or struggling to their feet. Numbers dictated that the finer points of fair combat not be observed terribly stringently. Efficiency and swiftness was all that seemed to motivate them. A dead Voreii was one fewer problem for later, thus they were murdered where they lay before they could become trouble for having woken. With their weapons bloodied and their enemies now upon their heels the Trojans pressed on with Archelochus at their head. <br><br>Drunken, sleeping and disorganized enemies did not very effective opposition make. Hence the Trojans, rather tired from their travels seemed like a well oiled machine by comparison as they engaged their enemy. Their shields remained extended before them and their spears outstretched as they advanced through the camp, cutting down those who gathered in groups of a dozen or so to oppose them. The Voreii by now had at least begun to have weapons when they rose up to fight the Trojans. There had been sufficient commotion for even this disorganized camp to rouse itself from its slumber, sex and stupor. However, the Trojans retained the advantage for the moment. They remained better organized and armed than their quarries. The Voreii were not formed up into a unit, they simply charged towards the Trojans as a mass of men and despite such bravery they were destined for a bad end. <br><br>As the Trojans advanced on the Voreii Archelochus spied a Voreii soldier looming over a woman who had a dagger placed to her own neck. Surprise flickered through his eyes at that odd scene. Instinctively the Trojan raised his spear and hurled it towards the soldier, Volinus, rather forcefully. The spear flew through the air towards the man’s mid-section. With his spear in flight the rasping hiss of a sword being drawn followed as Achelochus drew his blade. He slipped away from his fellows and dashed towards the as yet unknown woman's rescue. His shield smacked into the body of a large Voreii soldier as he sought to muscle past him. He plunged his sword into the man’s chest a moment later for good measure. He pushed the falling corpse away from him and then engaged a second warrior. The sound of metal would ring out as blades struck each other. His bronze blade clashed with the Voreii warrior’s as they traded strokes blade upon blade. He agressively sought to finish his opponent as he feigned high and then chopped down upon the towering man’s leg. After sinking his blade into the man’s leg another cut would find his chest and then finally his sword slide in between the fellow’s ribs stabbing into him and dispatching him. <br><br>He pushed the second body away, as his eyes darted over the chaotic battlefield. Then he ran towards the form of the girl. He couldn’t tell through the churning mass of bodies what had transpired with his spear. However, he battered past several more Voreii as he made his way towards Aireanna. The woman looked so very pale and he seemed surprised that her body didn’t tremble as she threatened to take her own life. His dark eyes fixed on her for a lingering moment as he bounded over to her. He hurried towards her such that his feet left the ground to hurtle over a corpse before coming to a stop before her. His shield was raised and his sword extended before him. A slight grin graced his lips as he noted “I wouldn’t go and use that dagger on yourself yet miss, you're on the verge of being rescued.”<br><br><br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: To Undergo So Many Perilous Days (Methos and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Solaine</strong> on <strong>04-11-2008, 09:16:29</strong>
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				Volnius regarded the girl with a calculating gleam in his eye.&nbsp; He had no doubt that the girl would do as she said--- desperate grief burned feverishly in large blue eyes, her lovely, oval-shaped face pale but set with fierce resolve.&nbsp; His gaze swept lustfully over the exquisitely feminine body that remained untouched by man, his eyes devouring soft expanses of graceful, luscious curves revealed by her torn tunic.&nbsp; Too bad.&nbsp; She would have made him a particularly delectable toy, and the thought of her virgin's blood on his rapacious cock made him harder than ever.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>However, he wasn't going to give up so easily.&nbsp; He relaxed visibly, trying to smile soothingly.&nbsp; "Come, come, you mustn't be so foolish.&nbsp; I can almost guarantee you the life of a pampered slave to some doting noble, but an ugly scar on that pretty neck of yours will ruin it all.&nbsp; Give me the knife...now."<br>&nbsp;<br>He took a step forward and held out his hand peremptorily, but she skittered a few more paces back, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes swiftly replaced by distrust and scorn. The Voreii's smile might as well have been a wolfishly predatory smirk. "Don't come near me! Do you think I was born yesterday?"&nbsp; She tightened her hand almost convulsively on the haft of the dagger and drew her body up to its full height.&nbsp; If she was going to leave this world, she would go with dignity.&nbsp; And she had best do it now before the Captain or any of his men could pounce on her.<br>&nbsp;<br>Volnius scowled as he watched the dagger dig into the white, tender skin of her neck, droplets of blood forming along the sharp edge.&nbsp; What a fucking waste.&nbsp; He quickly calculated his chances of getting to her before it was too late, and finding them good, he tensed his body to spring toward her.<br>&nbsp;<br>Then the battle-cry, that authoritative roar from a deep, armored chest followed by the answering bellow from many others, curdled Volnius' blood.&nbsp; He whirled around, eyes darting wildly into the darkness around the camp, uncharacteristic panic twisting his features as his wine-dulled mind attempted, and failed, to encompass this new menace. His sotted men could only look around in drunken confusion.&nbsp; The enemy had crept up on the Voreii ghostlike and silent, and had caught them with their breeches down around their ankles, literally.<br>&nbsp;<br>But it had the effect of stilling the dagger on Aireanna's neck.&nbsp; Surprise, and hope, widened her eyes, a small warm trickle of life returning to her cold, numb breast.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>It all happened so fast... Voreii all over the camp were swiftly and brutally struck down by thirsty swords, wielded by warriors possessed of a pitiless avenging spirit, chaos and the palpable scent of terror sweeping through the Voreii as the Trojans and Latins surged over the camp.&nbsp; Volnius could only bellow orders with ineffectual rage at men whose minds were thoroughly muddled by piss-inducing terror. Some, it was true, sprang to the occasion, but reflexes and judgment suffered inevitably from a night of debauchery. <br>&nbsp;<br>The steam of freshly erupted blood, the screams of men falling under skillful slashes of both swords and spears, the deafening clang of bronze against bronze... the battle was upon the dazed Aireanna and spluttering Volnius before either realized it.&nbsp; Then, from out of the ear-shattering tumult and frenzy of killing, a spear winged through the air with staggering power... piercing Volnius with a tremendous 'thwack' and hurling him back many feet until he crashed on his back to the ground.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>Aireanna could only stare at the body of the Voreii, her jaw dropping as this latest wonder bombarded her already overloaded senses, then she lifted her gaze to search the bloody maelstrom of struggling warriors-- a rather one-sided struggle, she would soon discover.&nbsp; And out of that confusion and chaos, one warrior caught her eye.&nbsp; His imposing stature and breadth, a splendid specimen in the impressive Trojan armor she had heard so much from traveling bards, set him apart from that horror of death and gore while being a part and cause of it, relentlessly plowing a clear path through his hapless victims to... her.&nbsp; Was he on his way to her?&nbsp; She could hardly believe it, her mind so numbed and stupefied that she wondered if she was merely imagining him, spurred in childhood by foolishly girlish dreams of mythical heroes and daring deeds as told by the bards.<br>&nbsp;<br>Blood steamed and trickled from his shield and his bronze-armored, superb male form, and she recoiled a little from that extended, blood-spattered sword, thinking in a panic that in his killing rampage he had come to dispatch her too. But then he gave her that slight grin, and she reeled a little from its dazzling contrast to the rest of the warrior's ferociously bloodthirsty appearance... and her soft lips, of their own accord, gave him an answering, though rather strained, smile.&nbsp; But a smile nevertheless, a miracle considering that, not too long ago, smiling was the last thing she had felt like doing.<br>&nbsp;<br>"On the verge?" she countered.&nbsp; "It seems to me you are succeeding marvelously---"&nbsp; Then her eyes widened in horror and she gripped his arm with her hand as she cried out, "Look out! Behind you!"<br>&nbsp;<br>Volnius had climbed to his feet, his face contorted in rage.&nbsp; It had taken him the work of tortuous seconds to wrench the spear from out of his side, then he flung it away and picked up a discarded sword.&nbsp; As he did so, he was already changing, limbs elongating and filling out, the outline of his skin shifting and becoming irregular as flesh and hair seemed to grow out and push against the boundaries of his form until he had grown to half again his stature, as proportionately broad as he was tall.&nbsp; Most terrible of all, his head had transfigured into the head of a wolf-like creature, its long, sharp snout filled with rows of razor sharp teeth dripping with hunger.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br>He bore down on Archelochus, his sword raised high to strike down the scion of Troy.&nbsp; <br>&nbsp;<br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: To Undergo So Many Perilous Days (Methos and Chatoyant Silk)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Methos</strong> on <strong>05-11-2008, 16:41:16</strong>
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				Archelochus dashed over to Aireanna and had moved to place himself between her and her assailant. However, he gazed down at Volnius’ form and saw the Voreii run through with his spear and crumpled to the earth. Thus a grin graced his lips as he turned towards the woman and studied her for a moment. “Succeeding marvelously – yes I suppose you could say so..things seem to be going according to plan.” The Trojan found himself distracted as he couldn’t help being slightly struck with the beauty of the blue eyed woman before him. That supple female form with its mingling of strength and vulnerability briefly captivated him, however, the words ‘look out behind you!’ sufficed to return the warrior to the pressing concerns of battle.<br><br>“Shit!” was the immediate reaction of the Trojan warrior as he whirled about his bronze coated shield rose and met Volnius’ sword. The bronze blade crashed into the bronze form of his shield and scraped along it. Archelochus thrust his own sword forwards rather swiftly to let the bronze blade bite into the left arm of the lycanthropic Voreian. A trickle of blood was drawn from the werewolf as he gazed into the now wolf-like maw of the creature before him. Archelochus took a step back rather warily as he noted the were-creature had grown to half again his previous size.<br><br>It crossed the young Trojan warrior’s mind that it was a bad sign that the werewolf had been able to extract a spear from its form and rise to his feet. That suggested that mere physical punishment alone was unlikely to be able to dispatch the creature before him. However, at the moment Archelochus didn’t have a better plan. Hence he feinted forwards with his sword and the werewolf took a step back from the blade. The Trojan advanced with his shield before him, the powerful form of his arm raising his blade and pressing forward with it as he thrust his sword through the werewolf’s guard and stabbed it in the shoulder. Much as Archelochus had expected the wound seemed to bother the werewolf little, for Volnius surged forward his sword lashing out towards Archelochus rather viciously and the Trojan moved nimbly with shield and sword to war off blows of inhuman strength.<br><br>His shield shuddered with impact as the Voreian blade struck it again. The Trojan muttered “Think Archelochus..think..” The warrior rather desperately searched his mind for every bit of lore he could recall regarding werewolves. It occurred to him rather immediately that his sword would be much more effective were it coated with silver. However, he felt hard pressed to figure out how he’d have time to heat some of the silver in his pockets sufficiently that it would melt and then pour that silver over his blade and let it cool. Nor was his confident that the werewolf would allow him sufficient time to even make a slap dash attempt at it. <br><br>Archelochus’ sword rose to crash against the werewolf’s. Their blade rang together as bronze met bronze and strength met strength and the Trojan seemed to refuse to give way even while appearing overmatched. In his werewolf form Volnius loomed over the Trojan who fought him stubbornly none the less. The Trojan’s bronze armor glimmered in the moonlight, as Archelochus muttered “Ash trees, wolvesbane..mistletoe?” He seemed to run through the traditional weaknesses of werewolves as he attempted to make some practical use of his recollections. He traded blows of sword upon sword with the werewolf as the Trojan bought time to work through some sort of plan.<br><br>“Mistletoe..” Archelochus said the word as he could almost feel the wheels within his mind turning. “Aneas told the tale of how he needed to fetch it to reach the underworld, the golden bough that opens the entrance to Hades.” Although his verbal thought process was interrupted by Volnius pressing towards him rather viciously and forcing Archelochus to scramble back with his sword rising to block the threatening bronze blade that was directed at him.<br><br>Archelochus raised his bronze blade to that of his opponent, striking his sword and then cutting the werewolf upon the bicep. The werewolf gave way ever so slightly, and the Trojan pushed forward with his shield, crushing the metal form against the werewolf, while slipped his foot between the werewolf’s own. Volnius stumbled and fell which let Archelochus dash back towards the forest as he rather hurriedly offered up a prayer. “Aphrodite, where once you helped another son of Troy in search of what I most urgently desire and your great affection for our ruined city is well known – guide me to the fatal tree.”<br><br>Volnius seemed to think the Trojan in genuine flight. Thus a spear was cast after Archelochus’ departing form as he headed to the edge of the forest. The Trojan managed to leap out of the way, and the spear landed with a thud in the trunk of a tree. Before Archelochus the warrior spied an avian figure taking flight and with moonlight kissing along its form, a dove took flight and entered into the forest and seemed to circle about a tree but a few scant meters away. Believing this the divine guidance he sought he dashed into the forest and towards the tree in question. Up within its bows he saw the waxy berries of mistletoe. Leaping upwards he cut down the bough, and slashed his sword through the berries to smear their red juice over the length of that bronze blade. “Thank you goddess.”&nbsp; He whispered reverentially, and then tossing the berries aside he dashed back out of the forest.<br><br>At the edge of the forest he found the werewolf awaiting him, although there must have been something strange to that monstrous Voreii for now the Trojan greeted him with a smile. Volnius surged towards him the sword lashing through the air, only to be turned aside by the Trojan’s. The werewolf waded towards him as the scion of Troy attempted to continue to dance backwards The monstrous creature leapt towards him, inhuman strength and agility moved Volnius forward with a swiftness the Trojan could not match. Archelochus was knocked to the earth as the Voreian landed atop him. The werewolf’s bulky form rested atop of him pinning him to the earth. However, the Trojan held onto his sword with such a grip that only death itself could have parted his sword from his hand.<br><br>He found the opened maw of the werewolf before him, pressing down towards his face as razor like teeth seemed to crave his throat. Archelochus frantically brought his shield arm upwards and the edge of his shield was bashed into the side of the werewolf’s face. A snarl was elicited by that action as clawed fingers scrapped against his bronze cuirass. The sword in the Trojan’s hand had proved ineffective mere moments before. Yet now with all the strength he could summon he rammed the point of his sword into the side of the werewolf. The edge pressed through the skin and slide in amongst the ribs and likely piecing a lunch as he sank the sword deeply into the giant creature’s chest. No longer were his blows shrugged off as a howl of absolute agony escaped the werewolf’s lips. Blood flowed freely from where the sword had entered the chest, and the Trojan slide the sword out from where it had been buried to stab it rather zealously into the werewolf’s chest again and again. The bronze blade gleefully stabbed inside the monster as crimson blood ran freely from it and soon stained its fur, the grass beneath them and the bronze amour that the Trojan wore. The werewolf began to still as its life’s blood poured out of it from repeated stab wounds. Volnius had left himself exposed seeing no weapon it had needed to fear, discovering that matters had changed far too late for it to make a difference.<br><br>Archelochus roughly shoved the werewolf from him and then he struggled to his feet. His immaculate bronze image was now marred by the marks of claws upon his armor and blood splattered all over both armor and his features. A cheer rose up from the soldiers who had remained in battle against scattered Voreii. Archelochus raised his sword high above his head to acknowledge them and then called out “TROY”.<br>
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