On Quest

http://www.metroactive.com/papers/metro/05.10.01/gifs/knightstale-0119.jpg

In the third year after Queen Rowain took the throne of Aberdeen, a knight rode out on quest from the little hamlet of Squamshire. He rode out on his father's old horse, a gray mare in her sixteen year. He worn ancient, battered armor. He carried an old, worn sword in a beat-up leather scabbard. His face was smeared with dirt and his hair unkempt. There was little about his appearance to suggest nobility. There was little that would recommend him at court. He was a knight still. His father, Roland, was a poor country squire who held sway over a tiny, destitute hamlet. There was little there but hunger and disease. There was little future for a sturdy young lad with a strong arm.

The knight had grown up hearing the tales of romance and adventure. The tales were of princes in gleaming armor, fighting evil heathans, giants and murderers. The tales were of good and noble men who stood up for the right of women and children. They were tales of noble spirits. The world around him was cruel and senseless, but he long for more. He was sure that if he road out on quest, he could become the kind of hero from the tales. He would find a lady to inspire him and ride out to fight the good fight, for her favor and honor.

As he and his mount passed through the muddy village streets, the peasants ignored him. They were to busy scrapping out an existence to notice the grubby son of the failed local lord riding away. The sky turned dark as Sir Henrik rode forward on his faithful, though elderly steed, Rosebud. He patted her shoulder as she shied away from some youth beating a dog with sticks.

"She is mine!"

"Only of you skewer me on your sword!"

"Consider it DONE!

"Not in THIS LIFETIME. I claimed her, I BOUGHT HER...she is MINE!"

The she they spoke of, no, yelled about, swords coming together with that vicious metallic clang, lay chained upon the ground. Her arms wretched behind her, shackled. Steel encircling her ankles, with just barely enough length to allow her to walk if needed. It also was lengthy enough to allow her to be taken upon hand and knees, which was what was about to happen at the moment that the other interrupted.

Her Captor, an older man, perhaps 30 and 5 years of age, had the look of a Blacksmith, his hands forever dirty from the ash and smoke of the fires he worked within, fingers thick with scars from the embers that burned skin. He was bald, in both face and hair, having learned early that fire and hair just did not mingle well. Scars marked his face, from those same embers that danced about his shop when fashioning the swords, shields, armor, as well as the simpler horseshoes and even chains, for the Royal Family, or any that had the coin to pay.

The lands had not been good to the people as of late, which in turn had not been good to him. Many were starving, coin was hard to claim, and keep. People, whether farmers or merchants or even men working as guards, were more concerned with spending their coin on food and drink than the working of iron and steel. He managed to keep himself fed and sheltered with what little he did get, mostly from royal aquaintences who still had that elusive coin. But he had decided early on he would not spend the time alone. A wife was out of the question. He did not want the responsibility that came with that. A slave, on the other hand, would be perfect. When he tired of her, he could sell her for more coin.

He had saved for many a fortnight, for the priviledge to purchase that which lay chained behind him. He was not about to let a common thief take her from him, not if he could help it, and he was a bull of a man, it would not be easy to best him.

The thief, was just that, a common thief, gambler, cheater, and just recently, murderer. A thief, a murderer, with a specific mission. He had been paid, with the promise of more coin, to find the Blacksmith, kill him, and bring the beauty to his... Employer... The job seemed easy enough.

That beauty raised her head, long tendrils of her stunning crimson red hair fell forward over her tear stained face. Golden eyes dull with fear and pain. Kylaine slowly manages to get to her feet, hoping to escape while the 2 men fought, hoping this would be that one moment she had been waiting for, but the chains about her ankles would prove to be too cumbersome for her to run, and run would be the only way she would be able to elude whoever won this... duel...

She fell back to the grass, sobbing quietly. At least the Thief had interrupted before that horrid Blacksmith had been able to rape her, at least there was that, she thought to herself.

For Kylaine, this horrible, terrifying ordeal, had started days earlier.......

She had been caught, in the arms of an escaped slave, and it had been she that had free'd him. Caught as he was about to mate with her, caught naked, moaning.. she had been caught, chained, shackled and stripped of any and all rights that she had.

Kylaine Montgomery, the youngest daughter of the Countess Montgomery, who ruled the lands to the west. Her holdings were small, and she was a fair and just Ruler. Where as the lands the Knight was traveling from were starving, crops dying, disease rampant, the Countess had managed to keep her small realm healthy and safe. She had the benefit of the Great River which ran adjacent to her lands, that water was life giving and her and her people knew this. They kept small crops and few animals, letting the land and the water provide for them. They were far from well off, but were not in the dire straights, yet, of the lands to the East. The Countess had a wonderful Healer, and it was he that managed to keep most of her people disease free. She also had a very powerful Holy Man, and relied on him and his words to tell her if the gods were pleased. If a sacrafice was called from by the Holy Man, she did not hesitate to provide it. One may say that it was HE that ruled the land, for HIS word was never challenged.

Kylaine had shamed her mother, and the Holy Man's teachings. Teachings that ruled that a female will never lay with any other than her husband, that a female of royal blood never allow a common male, let along a slave, to touch her. Kylaine had done both, and according to the Holy Man, she was tainted, and as such should be stripped of her name, her family, and her freedom. She had no say in the matter. Her mother, saddened, but still abided by what the Holy Man said, for her prophisized that should she remain and take control of the lands, the gods would punish all for the sins of the daughter.

It mattered not that He had not consumated the act with her. It mattered not that He was slaughtered at that moment. She would have been too had her Mother, the Countess, not pleaded for her life. The Holy Man agree'd to allow the girl to be stripped and sold as slave at the next slave auction, which was only a couple of days away...

What the Countess did not know was that the Holy Man, evil to his very soul, was planning on purchasing the stunningly beautiful girl, for he had lusted after her since his eyes first laid upon her. He would send one of his loyal followers to purchase her, and have her taken to his temple on the outskirts of the village. None would find her there, his basement was well hidden, she could scream while he took her, and none would hear. His mind, for those next days was filled with the most sinful of thoughts, he raping her, her mouth around his hard cock, the taste of her sex, thoughts that none in the village would ever entertain, being simple people.

The plan had backfired. The Holy Man never expecting that another would have more coin that he provided for her. He was not happy. He sent the thief, a man whom had been brought to him for punishment for killing another, after the Blacksmith and the girl. His instructions were clear, kill the Man, bring her.. UNTOUCHED... to the Temple. He would be rewarded handsomely if he did.

The fight continued, the Blacksmith proving to not be an easy man to best. He was strong, powerful, and a damned good swordsman. But the Thief was determined, even moreso having caught the 2 about ready to fuck. His own lusts had been awakened in seeing her bent over as she was, on her hands and knees, her sex opened and exposed... Perhaps he would take a little taste, a caress or 2, before taking her to the Temple. Hell, he could mate her and tell the Holy Man the Blacksmith had done it, he would never know. That thought made him smile, even in the mid of the battle, and also gave him the strength and will to win, or so he hoped..

*CLANG *

"MINE, SHE IS MINE"

Kylaine caught in the arms of a slave

OCC: This was a good first post. Forgive me if it takes a few days to respond.

The fog cleared further as Battle Breed galloped through the woods, jumping a log that had fallen across the road and the sliding around a tree that threatened to take it over. She was weary and unused to such exercise, but game. Her master asked and she delivered. He had been her's since he was a small lad, only able to reach out a hand to touch her nose. She was proud to ride with him on his first quest, though she knew that she was to old to do this sort of thing for long. She prayed to Fressa, the mother of all horses, to send her master a mount worth of him. She could feel her heart beating heavily with each galloped step, but galloped on. As she carried her master into the frey, her only thought was to aquit herself well.

-------------

Sir Henrik found two men fighting in the road. Beside them lay a naked, bound woman. One man was obviously a blacksmith by trade. It was hard to mistake his massively built muscular frame, even with his thick stomach. His soot blackened face and chest, and ugly burn scars, made him seem some like some sort of demon. He was fighting a quick, thin man dressed all in tight black clothing, with a dark mask over his face.

Henrik drew his mount up sharply and held his sword aloft. "By Saint Bertrum The Just and by the Strong Arm of the Maker, I command you both to lay down your arms and account for your actions! Know you that I am Sir Henrik, a most holy and honorable knight and I hold myself up as your judge!"

The thin, black clad man ducked and weaved about with two long daggers. The heavier smith was swinging wildly about him with a massive black cudgel. His face was glistening with dirty sweat and he was cursing. "Neither this little black-faced shit, nor you, ya great daft tinned prat, shall have her! I bought the bitch an' I'll not give her up for the gods, the saints or for any man!"

The thief whirled around to look at the knight, then the target and then the nude beauty, did some quick calculations as to his percentage in the whole situation and then promptly ran off into the woods as fast as a jackrabbit.

The smith rounded on the knight and screamed defiance. He moved to stand in from of the slave. "She is mine, right and proper, bought and payed for! Who are you who would steal another man's property? You would ride a great cow of a horse and threaten an innocent, hard-working man, with your mighty meat cleaver. You live off the sweat of my brow and the work of my hands! You take my daughters on their wedding day, claiming your divine right to steal their virginity! You tell me to lump it because the way of the world favors you and your inbreed kin as rulers, right under the Maker- the rest of us here like dogs for you to kick, kill and fuck with impunity! Who made you my judge!!!!" He was really fumming at this point. His eyes were round and red and there were veins sticking out on his forehead.

Henrik had been taken aback by the sheer audacity of the man. All knew that a knight could act as the very hand of the Maker, dispensing judgement and sentence where needed. The man was mad. He thought that he had the right to rule himself, and dispised the nobility, yet there beside him was a poor girl-child (whom he was careful to avoid staring at) naked as the day she was birthed and trussed up like a pig to be roasted.

Kylaine first felt the vibration of the approaching rider, the ground sending news of the new *player* on the scene before He actually came into view. She lifted her head, looking at the combatants. Neither noticed the vibration, the distant thudding of hooves. They were too engrossed in each other, to busy with the battle. Kylaine was not about to warn either of them, altho it did occur to her that whoever rode that horse could be worse they both these men. But she was willing to take her chances.

She slowly, not wanting to attract either man's attention, tried to crawl into the underbrush, out of sight. But the Blacksmith saw her motions, and a moment later he was just behind her, a thick leather boot kicking her in the behind, knocking her hard to the ground, her air being driven from her.

"Just where do you think your going my pet" he growled, turning to defend against that Theif again...

Kylaine never had the chance to answer, the mystery guest barreling around the bend in the road, coming upon the battling men.

"By Saint Bertrum The Just and by the Strong Arm of the Maker, I command you both to lay down your arms and account for your actions! Know you that I am Sir Henrik, a most holy and honorable knight and I hold myself up as your judge!"

A Knight, the man was a Knight. Kylaine gazed up at Him, a Knight was not a good thing in all reality, at least for her. Her mother's Guards and the rest of her forces had already been told that she no longer held any rights nor priviledges to the name. She was nothing more than a naked peasant to any Knight now, and said Knight could do whatever he pleased with her, it mattered not. Knight's had the Ruler's approval, to act as Judge, Jury, and Executioner if warrented. Kylaine also knew that then Knight could take possession of her, especially since He was not one of her mother's... this was a Knight from the lands to the East, the lands that she and her people.. feared...

The Theif darted past her "another time" he mumbled as he sprinted past her bound form. The Blacksmith standing before her, challenging the Knight, His words were inflamatory, He was obviously an angry, unstable man and Kylaine suddenly became very afraid. Afraid that if this Knight let the Man take her, the Blacksmith, she would not enjoy what He would put her thru.

"The rest of us here like dogs for you to kick, kill and fuck with impunity! Who made you my judge!!!!"

Yet that was all Kylaine was to him now, nothing more than a female animal to FUCK....

She turned her golden eyes upwards, looking toward the Knight upon His horse, surely this man was more gentle, more compassionate, than the brutish Blacksmith that ranted before her...

"please... " she whispered, "please help me"

The Blacksmith heard her whispered plea and rounded on her with a snarl, he grabbing at the short length of chain that hung from the steel collar that adorned her throat. He yanked her up, hard, she gasping in surprise as he did so.. "You Bitch, when are you going to learn, you belong to ME" he ranted, her eyes widening as she stared back at Him, trembling, shaking uncontrollably.