Goldenbraid
Really Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2014
- Posts
- 331
As Justine Ann Kristjanson hung in the shackles that were secured about her wrists and lead up to a ring bolted into the planked roof above her, the buxom blonde reflected back on her life and the events that had led her to this roaming existence.
Justine grew up in the small port town of Antigua in the Lesser Antilles, an English settlement on the edge of the Spanish Main, with her father Lucas Kristjanson, a master sword smith. He had moved there from Europe to cut down on the number of people seeking his expertise and to live a more quiet life, but had meet Anna, a young local girl, who he married and was soon blessed with a daughter. Frail Anna passed away a couple years later, never having recovered completely from childbirth.
Lucas’ quiet life was not totally to be, for his daughter was a little handful even when young. And Justine changed little as she grew, seeming to always be in trouble, trouble that increased as she rebelled more as the future of a young lady drew closer and was pointed out more and more often to her.
Justine hated the fact that her fate was to be married off to some man, to forever after be his wife and expected to keep his home and bare him children. She hated it even more as she watched the boys of the town being trained to become young gentlemen so they could go make their way in the world. Why, she fumed, were the boys allowed to go play with wooden swords while the girls learn to bake and sew and other chores? And more as the young men were taught swordsmanship, while the girls were taught to be wives.
Maybe it was because she became her father’s helper, handling the swords and such as she polished them for him? Or it could have been the other famous member of the community, Master Hargrim, a fencing teacher reputed to be among the best in the world, who ran the basic sword fighting classes? Either way, Justine began to want the freedom to seek her own future just like the boys. She was soon sneaking away from her ‘girl’ lessons to watch and later practice like the boys.
Her biggest victory was when she approached Master Hargrim, and with much charm and a good show of potential, convinced him to teach her fencing when no one was around. Classes she soon excelled at, Hargrim, though he know it was sort of wrong, finding a prize student in the eager young woman and pouring his knowledge into her.
Just as things were starting to look up, Justine’s life took a hard drop. The sixteen-year-old girl came home to find her father dead and the shop overturned. A few neighbors said they had heard an argument and a figure riding off a short time afterwards, but no one had stopped him or interfered.
Her father had been commissioned a few weeks earlier to craft a fine sword for someone, a nobleman it was believed, for a pretty great sum. Lucas had worked long and hard on the blade, the sword being called by him the pinnacle of his craft. Justine remembered her father mentioning that morning the man should be by any day to get it. All she could assume was the man had tried to get the sword for less, or even nothing at all, and her father had refused to hand it over. The man must have killed him and searched the shop for it, but he didn’t know the hidden place Lucas had for his expensive projects, so had ridden off without it.
Both angry and upset, Justine had sworn through her tears to find this man and make him pay, packing what she needed…. including a few gifts from her friend Hargrim…. and retrieving the blade from its hiding place as it was the only thing she had to lead her to this mysterious man. Turning her back on the town for what she felt was its cowardliness in not stopping her father’s murderer; she set out to find him.
Three years later, she still hasn’t found him, though she has searched every port and town, both high class areas and back alley dives, and used every bit of charm, skill and acting ability to gain some lead or clue. It has cost her nearly every coin she had and/or earned, her maidenhood and much of her innocence, and seen her in more trouble than most see in a life time, but she is still determined to find the man.
Though Justine possessed all the proper graces to be charming and friendly, she also has a fierce and fiery spirit and quick tongue that has more than once gotten her into trouble. It could take nothing for her to go from a most charming, refined and even alluring young woman to a hot-blooded wildcat out of control, like the incident that had lead to her present predicament.
She’d been on another of her information gathering missions playing the tipsy and light-headed common wench, when she’d run into a rather pompous young fellow obviously slumming. She tried to ignore and put up for over an hour with the snobbish, egotistical and irritating fop and his bad habit of not keeping his hands to himself. But when he wouldn’t stop even when asked to directly but nicely, she’d naturally stabbed the guttersnipe!
Now how was she to know the overdressed fool was the local Spanish governor’s son, or that her dagger would wound him so badly, even mortally?
She’d not gotten a chance to escape, for she had been arrested within a couple hours of the incident and none too gently, and made the ‘guest’ of the governor in his jail for several days. Days marked by ill feeding, torture and constant abuse they called questioning. And when he and his men were unsuccessful, the political puppet turned her over to some Spanish ship’s captain to be taken to a larger port for trial and sentencing.
So she’d been roughly dragged aboard a ship-of-the-line, her trunk being loaded too she’d partially been happy to see, and secured in the brig for the trip. She was to face a charge of murder, it seemed, and if lucky, be imprisonment for the rest of her life….. worse case, execution. Then she hopped her trunk would not be searched, or if so, that it’s false bottom would remain hidden, for a few of the items stored there would get her hung for sure…. likely as a pirate!
That was her present situation, locked into chains and shackles in a brig cell of the Spanish galleon, her wrists growing bloody from chaffing, especially when forced to dangling by her arms when her legs gave out. Then that was the least of her problems, for though her strawberry blonde tresses were nearly black with dirt and grim as was her face and body just as marred, the ragged reminisce of her clothes, thanks to the governor’s questioning, were barely clinging to and covering her ample figure. In fact if anyone were to first look past the curves, something most men didn’t, they’d notice Justine had some tight toned muscles from fencing and surviving on her own the last three years. Unfortunately her disheveled appearance didn’t bother, in fact seemed to appeal to, the lecherous scum that passed for a brig guard, who took advantage of her being at his total mercy.
So it was that she dreaded the sound of the guard’s approaching footsteps, for even if one of the two times for feeding her, he would often paw at her during that time. Still he would wander down several times during a day for the sole purpose of tormenting and lewdly touching of her, which was nearly a pleasure to the odd times he came drunk, for his abuse was cruel and disgusting, and she could do nothing in her defenseless state.
Why must her life always be plagued by trouble….??
Justine grew up in the small port town of Antigua in the Lesser Antilles, an English settlement on the edge of the Spanish Main, with her father Lucas Kristjanson, a master sword smith. He had moved there from Europe to cut down on the number of people seeking his expertise and to live a more quiet life, but had meet Anna, a young local girl, who he married and was soon blessed with a daughter. Frail Anna passed away a couple years later, never having recovered completely from childbirth.
Lucas’ quiet life was not totally to be, for his daughter was a little handful even when young. And Justine changed little as she grew, seeming to always be in trouble, trouble that increased as she rebelled more as the future of a young lady drew closer and was pointed out more and more often to her.
Justine hated the fact that her fate was to be married off to some man, to forever after be his wife and expected to keep his home and bare him children. She hated it even more as she watched the boys of the town being trained to become young gentlemen so they could go make their way in the world. Why, she fumed, were the boys allowed to go play with wooden swords while the girls learn to bake and sew and other chores? And more as the young men were taught swordsmanship, while the girls were taught to be wives.
Maybe it was because she became her father’s helper, handling the swords and such as she polished them for him? Or it could have been the other famous member of the community, Master Hargrim, a fencing teacher reputed to be among the best in the world, who ran the basic sword fighting classes? Either way, Justine began to want the freedom to seek her own future just like the boys. She was soon sneaking away from her ‘girl’ lessons to watch and later practice like the boys.
Her biggest victory was when she approached Master Hargrim, and with much charm and a good show of potential, convinced him to teach her fencing when no one was around. Classes she soon excelled at, Hargrim, though he know it was sort of wrong, finding a prize student in the eager young woman and pouring his knowledge into her.
Just as things were starting to look up, Justine’s life took a hard drop. The sixteen-year-old girl came home to find her father dead and the shop overturned. A few neighbors said they had heard an argument and a figure riding off a short time afterwards, but no one had stopped him or interfered.
Her father had been commissioned a few weeks earlier to craft a fine sword for someone, a nobleman it was believed, for a pretty great sum. Lucas had worked long and hard on the blade, the sword being called by him the pinnacle of his craft. Justine remembered her father mentioning that morning the man should be by any day to get it. All she could assume was the man had tried to get the sword for less, or even nothing at all, and her father had refused to hand it over. The man must have killed him and searched the shop for it, but he didn’t know the hidden place Lucas had for his expensive projects, so had ridden off without it.
Both angry and upset, Justine had sworn through her tears to find this man and make him pay, packing what she needed…. including a few gifts from her friend Hargrim…. and retrieving the blade from its hiding place as it was the only thing she had to lead her to this mysterious man. Turning her back on the town for what she felt was its cowardliness in not stopping her father’s murderer; she set out to find him.
Three years later, she still hasn’t found him, though she has searched every port and town, both high class areas and back alley dives, and used every bit of charm, skill and acting ability to gain some lead or clue. It has cost her nearly every coin she had and/or earned, her maidenhood and much of her innocence, and seen her in more trouble than most see in a life time, but she is still determined to find the man.
Though Justine possessed all the proper graces to be charming and friendly, she also has a fierce and fiery spirit and quick tongue that has more than once gotten her into trouble. It could take nothing for her to go from a most charming, refined and even alluring young woman to a hot-blooded wildcat out of control, like the incident that had lead to her present predicament.
She’d been on another of her information gathering missions playing the tipsy and light-headed common wench, when she’d run into a rather pompous young fellow obviously slumming. She tried to ignore and put up for over an hour with the snobbish, egotistical and irritating fop and his bad habit of not keeping his hands to himself. But when he wouldn’t stop even when asked to directly but nicely, she’d naturally stabbed the guttersnipe!
Now how was she to know the overdressed fool was the local Spanish governor’s son, or that her dagger would wound him so badly, even mortally?
She’d not gotten a chance to escape, for she had been arrested within a couple hours of the incident and none too gently, and made the ‘guest’ of the governor in his jail for several days. Days marked by ill feeding, torture and constant abuse they called questioning. And when he and his men were unsuccessful, the political puppet turned her over to some Spanish ship’s captain to be taken to a larger port for trial and sentencing.
So she’d been roughly dragged aboard a ship-of-the-line, her trunk being loaded too she’d partially been happy to see, and secured in the brig for the trip. She was to face a charge of murder, it seemed, and if lucky, be imprisonment for the rest of her life….. worse case, execution. Then she hopped her trunk would not be searched, or if so, that it’s false bottom would remain hidden, for a few of the items stored there would get her hung for sure…. likely as a pirate!
That was her present situation, locked into chains and shackles in a brig cell of the Spanish galleon, her wrists growing bloody from chaffing, especially when forced to dangling by her arms when her legs gave out. Then that was the least of her problems, for though her strawberry blonde tresses were nearly black with dirt and grim as was her face and body just as marred, the ragged reminisce of her clothes, thanks to the governor’s questioning, were barely clinging to and covering her ample figure. In fact if anyone were to first look past the curves, something most men didn’t, they’d notice Justine had some tight toned muscles from fencing and surviving on her own the last three years. Unfortunately her disheveled appearance didn’t bother, in fact seemed to appeal to, the lecherous scum that passed for a brig guard, who took advantage of her being at his total mercy.
So it was that she dreaded the sound of the guard’s approaching footsteps, for even if one of the two times for feeding her, he would often paw at her during that time. Still he would wander down several times during a day for the sole purpose of tormenting and lewdly touching of her, which was nearly a pleasure to the odd times he came drunk, for his abuse was cruel and disgusting, and she could do nothing in her defenseless state.
Why must her life always be plagued by trouble….??
