Haven't You Something Better to Do? (PtPb and Trinket)
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: PeacethatPowerbrings on 13-05-2009, 21:35:18</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Haven't You Something Better to Do? (PtPb and Trinket)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>13-05-2009, 21:35:18</strong>
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				As the Viking ship hit the beach it made a groaning noise, and then, nothing. Men wearing massive furs for coats jumped out onto the sand and pulled the great ship onto the beach. Their leader, a man who stood out with ram horns in his helmet and a great axe which he needed only one hand to carry.<br><br>Coming to the isle of the celts was a common practice among the Vikings, this year more than three raiding parties had landed near that very beach. Two had returned rich, and with plenty of celt women, which, while not fit for bearing warrior children, were good enough for slaves.<br><br>The last raiding party had not returned at all, and this was why Gromm the Raven had led his crew there. Gromm was not the only one who stood out. <br><br>One warrior, clearly younger, but without the long braided hair of the Vikings stood among them. He wore the furs, the clothing, but lacked a helmet, or any Viking markings. This was because he was half-celt, a child of one of those celt women brought back by his father. Who had died in battle before he was ever born, though, battle with another Norse warrior clan, not with the celts.<br><br>He was afforded warrior status by his skill and strength, which was, at least a match for any Norseman. He chose, however, not to grow his hair, and kept it close-cut. He rested his hands on the pommels of his swords, a bastard sword on his right, for his left hand and short-sword on his left for his right hand.<br><br>He was a conflicted person, always fighting to describe himself. He was a Viking, Norse through and through, he was an expert in combat, and had even spent his childhood perfecting his skills with his double-sword approach to his people's favourite past-time.<br><br>A storm was on the way, but, they'd no doubt have found shelter in the forest nearby by the time it arrived, the next day they'd venture inland and find some Celt village, and stay there until the storm passed, though, the Celts wouldn't be alive by the time they left, at least, not most of them.<br><br>He made his way up the beach, following the silent procession of Norsemen, some of them praying, to Odin, or Thor, because of the storm, or the battle to come.<br><br>---<br><br>A small form watched the men leave, from the boat. He was Erik, and the brother of the half-celt warrior of warriors, Cael. He was, however only a half brother, and again did not have the traits of the Viking people, his mother, Cael's mother, and his father another warrior to whom she'd given herself so that Cael could have a home to grow up in. He was too young to have come with Cael for the crossing, so he hid himself aboard, hoping to see something exciting on his trip.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Haven't You Something Better to Do? (PtPb and Trinket)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Trinket</strong> on <strong>18-05-2009, 00:27:55</strong>
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				Locked away in her room, safe from the outside world a young woman cried, she of Celtic origin for the lives that had been lost in all to recent times. Only just a month ago her father's desecrated corpse had been returned home, but she was unable to cry in front of the only remaining member of her family. He was just so young, to young and for him she needed to be strong, for their people she needed to persevere and not give into the depression that had hung over her head like an ominous dark cloud waiting to strike her with lightening at any moment on an open and desolate battle field.<br><br>She heard someone knock at the door, an urgent voice shouting, "Your ladyship, your ladyship! Please, you must come out of there at once, it is an emergency!" The voice quavered and she stood hastily, nearly tripping over the hem of her dress that dragged upon the ground. Lifting her skirts so that she could move more fluidly she reached the door and opened it. "What is it Morgon?"<br><br>The young man stared into her light green eyes, "It is terrible your ladyship, oh Lady Fianna the guards have spotted an enemy ship approaching the shore."<br><br>Her eyes widened in shock and then closed in remorse as she tried to refrain from any tears flowing. She could not be seen to be weak in that moment. "Vikings?"<br><br>He bowed his head, "Yes Lady Fianna, it appears to be a viking vessel. What are your orders?"<br><br>Turning on her heel she looked out over the shore and spotted what it was which approached them. Her heart grew thick with rage, hatred towards those senseless murderers whom had caused her to lose the ones she had held so dear. Her people she would not allow to suffer the indignity should they take the keep by storm and her little brother, they would not get their bloodstained hands upon him. "Surround the shore, take word to our neighbor Gheastan so that they might place their ships to sea and we'll have them trapped. Take as many prisoners as you can, those who resist are to be obliterated for this attempt."<br><br>"Of course," he said in awe of her thinking. Though she was a woman she someone had managed to inherit her fathers analytical mind, but with her mothers deep protecting loving heart though she tried to hide it, they all saw it when she was near her little brother.<br><br>Shaking her head she turned back toward the door once she knew the way was cleared. They'd not allow her on the battlefield though they would take commands from her, at least until her brother was older and stronger, able to take over the keep. However she was not about to sit back and be nothing more than a spectator now, despite the desires of everyone to keep her from harm. Donning a cloak and with the hat covered her hair and face as she ran down the steps of the secret passage into the wood just bordering the shore. With her own quiver of arrows and a bow she would see to it in any small or great measure that everything would be kept safe.
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Haven't You Something Better to Do? (PtPb and Trinket)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>PeacethatPowerbrings</strong> on <strong>18-05-2009, 04:03:16</strong>
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				The procession went smoothly enough, for a while. As their party approached the forest, they appeared. Too many to count, visible in various places in the woods above the shore. With a disadvantage in land, and numbers, Cael knew, they would not likely survive. It was the price they paid for not using the bow as a weapon of war.<br><br>He drew his weapons as the Vikings broke ranks and made for the woods. Once they were among them, the great Viking warriors would make their power known. That was hardly going to happen, however, as, soon enough the archers began firing.<br><br>There was little Cael could do, but he was far closer to the treeline than his comrades, and as he appeared there decapitated an errant Celt with one swing of his bastard sword. Removing it from the tree it had lodged its edge in, he made a run from what he saw as the core of the enemy. Women...it figured...<br><br>Cael could not imagine using women as warriors, but he could not deny the Celt's madness made even their females formidable.
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