Kingdom of Drakkara

[Vagablonde]

(Closed for Annisthyrienne)

Camwen Teras
Age: 28
Dark shortish hair
Blue grey eyes
Athletic
http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i50/thewalkingman/WHQ%20Avatars/FHF024L.jpg

All had gone from bad to worse in a very short time and Camwen had been the one that had paid heavily for it. She ignored the pain from the whipping as she slowly made her way through the forest. It was not so easy to ignore the pain in her heart. Her back was probably still bleeding as no one had mended her after the punishment. She didn't care.

All that mattered now was to get as far away from Yvresse as she could. The Capitol city of the Kingdom of Drakkara was full of warriors that would kill her in a heartbeat. There had been many that thought she should have died for her failure. King Ulric Mannheim had considered to kill her, but in the end he spared her. Camwen could not figure out why. In her mind it had been more compassionate to end her life.

She was twenty eight years old and had served the king most of those years. For eight years she had been a part of his weapons. She had fought and bled for him and the Kingdom, and she had killed. How many she had killed she couldn't keep a count on. It was many.

Camwen was so filled with regret and sorrow that she almost missed hearing the low female scream that came from ahead. She abruptly stopped and her hand immediately went to the longsword she had strapped in a well oiled scabbard on her back. She crouched down, considering her options. It wasn't in her interest to investigate what was happening.

A new scream, higher this time reached her and Camwen straightened up. She was dead anyway. Why not die in battle? It would end this travesty of a life. The forests of Drakkara was filled with things that could kill you. Brigands and monsters just to name a few. Even elves could be dangerous if they felt threatened.

Camwen drew her blade. It was a masterpiece of a weapon. It had been crafted especially for her. She quietly moved closer to where the scream came from. Her leather tunic and leggings make it easy to move unheard. She pushed tree branches aside with her free hand to see what is happening.

The first thing she notices are half a dozen dead elves. More like massacred. The thing that shock her is not the dead elves though. It is the two other corpses there. Soldiers dressed in the red and silver of Drakkara. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she scan the area.

Two soldiers drag a defenceless young elven woman between them. They through her to the ground. One of the soldiers have a bright red mark on his left cheek. The elf hadn't submitted peacefully.

Camwen lower her head. Brigands or monsters she could take. This was her countrymen. Her grip on the sword hilt tighten as she try to decide what to do.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Princess Isendryll
Apparent age equivalent: 24
Long blonde wavy hair
Deep violet eyes.
Slender and willowy, but with ripened curves.

It had all happened so fast!

One moment the small retinue of palace guards were escorting the princess along the forest road. The next, the entire procession was set upon by human warriors. The attack had begun from ambush, the twang of crossbow strings sharply cutting the morning air was the only warning before three of their number fell. Princess Isendryll screamed in horror as the first of her guardsmen fell from his saddle. In no time at all, the humans were engaged with the remaining three guardsmen.

The ringing sound of steel blades on steel blades was so loud and confusing that Isendryll could barely collect her thoughts enough to send her handmaiden fleeing into the forest. Out of loyalty to her guards, she paused, waiting to determine the outcome of the battle. If they were victorious, no doubt there would be wounds to heal, and she would be needed. She knew her guards would willingly give their lives for her, such was their devotion. It was more than just her being part of the royal family now. It was the fact that she made a habit of caring for those around her on a personal level. She knew all their names, and they knew that she cared for them deeply.

But the outcome was destined, so lopsided was the battle. Her remaining guards managed to cut down two of the human warriors before being struck down themselves. She tried to flee then, but it was too late. The two remaining humans seemed determined to exact their revenge on her for the price their fallen comrades had paid.

But she made up her mind that they would not have her easily. She would fight them with all she had. The nearest one made a grab for her, catching her by the arm as she tried to flee. She screamed again as she whirled, rounding on him like a she-cat, her claws at the ready. Lashing out at his face, she connected solidly, leaving red scratch marks across his face. He backhanded her across her full lips, splitting open her lower lip. She drew back to strike him again when the other soldier caught her free arm and twisted it behind her before throwing her roughly to the ground between them.

She hit hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs, and for a moment, she was stunned. Then she turned over onto her back to stare fearfully up at them, still determined to resist any way that she could. She watched in horror as the nearest one began to unbuckle his belt. She knew his intent. She would have known it even without the empathy she depended on as a healer.

She crawled slowly backward, but there was no escaping. He bent to reach for her, capturing her ankle. With her other leg, she drew back and kicked at his face, connecting solidly with his nose. A stream of snot and blood spewed from the broken organ as the man howled his outrage.

His partner swung his blade at her, chopping in a vicious downward slash that sunk the tip in the earth between her legs, slitting part of her dress. She gasped at the close call and shrunk back, but she couldn't get away, and he made ready for another attack. Isendryll's lips compressed grimly as she looked upon her doom. Soon she would join her faithful guardsmen in death, it seemed.

 

[Vagablonde]

She did not know how long she stayed frozen and with lowered head. Camwen could feel tears streaming down her cheeks. It was the angry howl that woke her from the passive state she was in. Without any more hesitation she drew her sword from the scabbard on her back.

She approached the men from behind. One of the men was holding his nose. Blood spewed between his fingers. He was not an immediate threat so Camwen ignored him for the moment. It was the other man that was her target now. He stood in front of the fallen woman with his sword raised to end her life.

Camwen did not look at the woman. She did not want to see the terror she would see there. Any distractions now would mean certain death for the female. Camwen was not sure why she cared about the life or death of this woman. Maybe it wasn't even about her at all.

"Cullen!" She call out to the man just as he is about to deal the killing blow.

The man turn around with a surprised expression in his face.

"Cam?" He lower his sword as he stare at her. "What are you doing here?" He ask.

"Can ask you the same." Camwen reply as she move closer to him. She stop less than two feet from him. Glancing back at the other man, she can see the hate in his eyes. If it is directed at her or the elf she can't say. Maybe it is both.

"The Kings orders." Cullen say and turn to the elf female again. "He want them all dead."

"I can't let you kill her Cullen." Camwen say calmly and raises her sword with both hands over her head.

"Then you die to." The injured man say behind her and draw his sword.

"Then i die." Camwen almost smile. "I believe you enjoy this Jonn."

"Sure." Jonn wipe his bloodied nose with his free hand. "I get to kill this wench." He nod to the elf. "And i kill you. All in one day."

Camwen look to the elven female and silently hope that she will take the chance to escape while Camwen fight the two men. She had little hope of defeating both of them. They were both expert swordsmen. All the Kings Weapons were. Hadn't Camwen wished that she had died instead of being exiled? This was her chance of changing that.

She more felt than saw Jonn close in for the kill. At the last second she dove to the side in a roll that took her away from the men and woman. Now she had them all in front of her. For the moment the men had forgotten their prisoner. No doubt they thought they could capture her after.

Camwen just hoped that the woman had the strength to outrun them. She hoped that this sacrifice wouldn't be for nothing. Oh well... She would die fighting.

"Come on." She say with a smile.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Isendryll thought her life was about to end. And suddenly a newcomer entered the scene, another human with a sword, but female this time. Isendryll looked at her, wondering if she was there to help or harm. She was so scared. Her trembling was the only movement her body was allowing her as the warrior before her halted his strike to face the newcomer.

They spoke as if they knew each other, Isendryll thought. She didn't fully understand their words; the human tongue they spoke seemed to have strange pronunciations that only their accents seemed suited to. But the warrior poised to strike her down lowered his sword for the moment.

As Isendryll watched and listened, the female warrior raised her own weapon, and the man who's nose she had kicked began to slowly move up behind her. Isendryll realized that the woman meant to defend her against the two men. But she'd seen them slaughter her best palace guards, and she had little hope that the woman could stand against two of them alone. She was about to shout a warning when the woman's eyes met hers briefly. With a darting glance at the man approaching behind her, she tried to convey the message of the woman's peril.

As Isendryll lay prone, still too frightened to move but with a new hope beginning to blossom in her breast, the female warrior ducked and rolled under the strike from the man behind her, coming up a few yards away. The two men arranged themselves side by side, facing their new opponent, their backs to Isendryll. They obviously thought the elvish maiden was no threat to them. She knew she should take this chance to get away. She could run; maybe she could get far enough into the woods to hide from them.

But then her savior would have to face them alone, and surely the woman would be doomed. Isendryll could not fathom why the woman would be fighting her own kind for the sake of an elvish stranger, but how could she abandon one who risked her own life to save hers? Of course she had no way of knowing what the woman's intentions were towards her. Should they somehow manage to get out of this alive, the woman might prove to be as much of a danger as the men.

There was no love lost between the elves and the humans who called themselves Drakkarans. Mostly each race had tried to avoid the other before this, but recently the humans had become more aggressive, raiding deeper into the forests, attacking the elvish hunters and travelers whenever possible. Her father had sent her away, hoping to keep her safe. The humans were not supposed to be this deep in the forest; not even on their raids. It should have been safe to travel this path.

Now she watched as these two human males menaced the one lone female who had come to her aid.

No. She couldn't just flee and leave this one to a cruel fate, not even if she might later pose as much of a threat as the other two raiders. Isendryll didn't know what she should do. Instinctively she crab walked backwards, trying to put some space between her and the danger before her. Her hand brushed against something hard and cold and she looked to see what it was. The blade of an elvish long dagger lay just under her fingers. She reached for the grip, her trembling fingers closing around the wrapped leather.

Just then the first loud clash of steel from the warriors in front of her drew her attention back to the fight. The one who's nose she broke was locked with the woman, and the other was looking for an opening to strike. He was close to her, having stepped back to avoid the swinging blades of the clashing warriors in front of him. Isendryll steeled her nerves. She was a healer, and had never before tried to hurt anyone. Now she prepared to use her knowledge of the body to cause as much mayhem and harm as she could.

She lashed out with a sharp kick to the back of his knee, angling slightly to give just enough force to buckle the joint sideways. The forward force brought him down. The sideways force caused the snapping sound to make sure he wasn't getting back up. She was on him with the long dagger in the next moment, yet still hesitant to plunge the blade into his body. It seemed like such a violation for a healer to commit to any body, like the penetration would be a cruel sort of rape. She bashed his temple with the heavy pommel of the handle, stunning him, but only temporarily.

The soldier lashed out at her with an armored gauntlet, the heavy mail crashing into her cheek and knocking her away from him before she could strike again. She regained her senses just as he moved over her, and began striking and fighting him with all she had. She hoped that her futile effort had helped the female warrior enough that at least one of them could survive.

 

[Vagablonde]

Camwen had no illusions of how this fight would end. If she had faced only one of them she was confident enough to think she would win. She was a master swordsman. Cullen and Jonn was no different. They had all received the same training. For now Cullen was in the background, observing. Camwen was not sure how long that would last though

Jonn advanced with a wicked grin in his bearded face. Camwen calmly waited for him to make his first move. She didn't have to wait long. She parried his first strike easily. He was just testing her. Camwen knew that he was stronger than her. Just as she knew she was quicker. She had to use that to her advantage.

Camwen rolled to the side and just avoided Jonns sharp blade. She was up on her feet again and quickly thrust her sword towards Jonns stomach. He parried with a downward motion. He was faster than Camwen had anticipated as he tried to use her momentum against her. Camwen managed to raise her sword to parry a blow that most certainly would have decapitated her.

At that moment she hear the sounds of struggle behind her. A quick glance tell her all she have to know. The elven female was about to get killed again. She had obviously not ran away as she should. Camwen grunt as she concentrate on Jonn again. She hate that she might die and it would make no difference. She make a quick decision and jump back from Jonn. At the same time he rushes her, just to meet her foot to his face. Jonn stumble back from the impact.

Camwen uses the opportunity to turn around and run toward the couple that lie sprawled on the ground. Cullen is on top of the female and is just about to smash her face in with his mailed fist. Camwen tackle him just as his fist is about to connect.

She drop her sword as they fly to the ground. She land on top of Cullen and reaches for the hunting knife she keep in her boot. Cullen is just about to grab her arm as she buries the knife in his throat. Blood fills his mouth and he dies with a gurgle.

She feel a tinge of sadness. She had actually liked the man. No time for regrets though. She look over to Jonn. He isn't there. He was gone. With a sigh Camwen eases herself away from Cullen's dead body and lie down on her back. She still hold the knife and can feel the warm blood covering her hand.

Now that the fight was over and she still is alive she feel the sorrow as a deep cut. The loss of friendship and duty. She had killed a former friend. If it had been Jonn that was dead beside her she wouldn't have cared. She had killed Cullen over an elf. Or was it something else? It didn't matter. What mattered now was that she would soon be a hunted woman. Jonn had escaped and soon would hunters be on her trail.

She sit up and wipe her bloody hand against her leggings. Then she look to the other woman. Camwen is pleased that she look to be alright. As alright as you could expect of course.

"Your hurt?" She ask as she stand up and goes to pick up her dropped sword.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Isendryll struggled valiantly, but the man atop her was too big, too heavy, and too strong. His fist gathered her dress in his clenched fingers and she heard the sound of her bodice ripping. She had dropped the long dagger when he'd hit her the first time, knocking her off of him and leaving her nearly senseless. Now her cheek throbbed and she wondered if her eye socket was broken. It was a strange sort of detached resigned acceptance of her impending death at his hands that allowed her healer's mind to sort through and categorize her injuries even as her body struggled to fight him.

And then suddenly he was gone. It happened so quickly that she was still struggling against empty air before she a realized that the female warrior had tackled him, pulling him from her. She saw them struggling just in time to see her plunge the knife in his chest, something Isendryll, herself, had been unable to bring herself to do. Isendryll gathered herself and scrambled for the long dagger, aware that the danger might not be passed. There was new hope, yes. But she didn't know the reason that the woman might fight her own kind on behalf of an elf. Perhaps the female warrior wanted to kill her for her own glory, or maybe wanted her for some other nefarious purpose.

And there was still the other male human to be concerned about, the one whose nose she'd kicked and broken. She didn't know what had become of him. The last glimpse she'd had of him, the female warrior was squared off opposing him, prepared to engage him in battle. Isendryll's hand closed over the grip of the long dagger, more by touch than by sight, for her eye was already swelling shut. She snatched up the blade, getting quickly to her feet and whirling about frantically, trying to find where the other warrior's attack might come from.

But she soon realized he had fled for whatever reason. She turned back to the female human who was only now sitting up, apparently not yet killed. That is when she spoke to her.

Isendryll had been educated in the palace of her father, and could speak the human trade tongue, and even understand it if it were spoken slowly and distinctly. But she had learned the grammatically correct form, from the written scrolls, and from an elvish teacher whose pronunciation was very different from these humans with their slang and thick accent. Still she thought she understood the woman to be asking if she were hurt. Or perhaps she was asking if Isendryll intended to hurt her, or observing that she had hurt the other soldier.

Isendryll hoped it was the former, so she proceeded to act as though it were. She reached up gingerly to feel her eye and cheek, and then her split lip. Her fingers came away with blood from her lip, possibly from her nose. But she was used to the sight of blood, and was more assessing her state than panicking about it. She decided she would be alright when she could devote some attention to healing herself.

In the meantime, she cautiously approached the human woman, who didn't seem to be intent on doing her any harm. She had noticed the blood that the woman had wiped off on her leggings, and wondered if the woman had suffered an injury herself. Isendryll craned her neck, trying to get a better look at the woman without getting too close. It was difficult with her eye swelling the way it did, so she stepped before the woman, risking that the woman would not harm her. Tentatively, she reached out her hand towards the woman, intending to check her for wounds.

Part of it was her inherent desire as a healer to ease pain and suffering wherever she could. But there was another reason, one she wondered if this human woman knew about. The woman had saved her life, Isendryll knew. And by elvish tradition, that life was owed in return, until a service of equal value could be offered to repay the debt.

As she reached for the woman, she thought that the warrior's reaction might be violent if she felt threatened, so she determined to try to explain her intention. Isendryll drew her hand back to her bosom where she held the ripped bodice together to protect her modesty. Touching herself lightly, she pronounced her name as clearly as she could in the human trade tongue, "I am called 'Isendryll'. (Ee - ZEN -der -reel) I am grateful for your help in protecting me. I would heal your wounds, if you will permit me." Her accent was thick. She hoped she'd said it correctly. Too often, many misunderstandings came about with the improper use of another's language.

She reached out again, slowly, cautious to see if the woman would allow her touch.

 

[Vagablonde]

Camwen did not have much experience with elves. She had spoken to a few in her life, but did know very little of them. What she understood was that they were dangerous. That was the teachings of Dakkara at least. This female looked everything but dangerous though. She was graceful and slender but with curves in the right places. Hardly built for battle.

When the elf reached out to her Camwen stiffened slightly. She was not used being touched unless it was in combat or in a passionate embrace from a lover. Casual touching was not something she really understood. The elven female must have realised that Camwen felt uncomfortable because she withdrew her hand.

When she spoke it was with a thick but understandable accent. Camwen realised why the woman had reached out a hand. Or Isendryll. She look down at her own hand that still have a trace of blood on it.

"I am not hurt." She say and hold out her hand to Isendryll, if she would like to see for herself that Camwen was unwounded.

"My name is Camwen, or just Cam."

She know that Isendryll had tried to help her by going for Cullen. Camwen thought that the proper response to that would be to be friendly. Now the female was trying to help her again and Camwen was surprised that she would actually let her do it.

"You live close to here?" She ask Isendryll.

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Isendryll took the hand of the female warrior, Camwen. With that first touch, her empathic sensibilities assured her that the warrioress meant her no harm. She turned the female's hand over in her own slender ones, examining for any hurt or wound. But other than the fatigue of the fight and a long period of travel, the woman seemed to be fit and in excellent health. Isendryll nodded, satisfied that the woman, Camwen, had no need of healing. Another way to repay that which was owed then. And continued service until she could find a way to repay the life debt.

"I am from the forest kingdom of Broceliande. But we were sent away from there, traveling to a place of safety. My father feared for my safety, because of the raids." Isendryll stopped speaking abruptly, worried that her words might give cause to anger the warrioress. Instead, she decided to ask a question of her own. "Why? Why did you defend me against your own kind? And why have the men of your people been raiding deeper into the forests?"

Isendryll knew that she might be asking too many questions, but she had always been a curious one. And if the woman would offer the information, it might be something her father should know. It could be vital to protecting her people from further raids. At the very least, Isendryll might be able to determine what intentions this human woman had towards her.

 

[Vagablonde]

Camwen stood perfectly still as Isendryll examined her hand. She took the opportunity to look closer at the elven female now that she was occupied with Camwen's hand. This was the first elven female Camwen had seen. At the King's court there had been a few elven diplomats. All male though.

Isendryll seemed pleased that Camwen was unhurt. She listened to Isendryll and raise her eyebrows as the elf abruptly stop. Camwen have heard of Broceliande before. No Drakkaran had ever been there from what she understood. Maybe that had changed. Many things seemed to have changed. Was the King really starting a war against the elves? Then Isendryll started talking again. This time with two questions Camwen didn't have any answers to.

"I'm still tring to find the answers to that myself." Camwen say honestly. "Why was i helping you?" She smile a little. "Maybe a bad judgement call on my part?" She shake her head. "Probably." She meet Isendryll's eyes with her own. "Just could not stand by doing nothing." She look away.

"As of my people. They are not anymore." The shame was to great and she was not willing to share it with anyone. Especially not an elf she just met. "They do what the King order them to do."

Camwen turn to Isendryll again. "You better prepare for war. Tell your father that our people need to be ready. If Drakkara has been starting to raid your lands, they soon will come in greater numbers."

 

[Annisthyrienne]

Isendryll felt through her empathy, more than heard the bitterness in the undertone of Camwen's words about why her own people fought her. There was more to this story than she seemed willing to share, Isendryll thought. But gratitude for what the woman had done to protect her made her hold any further questions about the reason this human seemed to be unwelcome among her own kind.

Instead, the elvish princess listened carefully to the words of warning that the woman offered. The prediction that the humans would raid in greater numbers made her fear for her people and her father. They must be warned!

But to defy her father's wish for her to be safe elsewhere? If Isendryll returned to carry warning to him, he would be angry. He would be more angry still if she brought this human back with her. And yet, she owed Camwen a life debt. She had to stay with her until there was an opportunity to repay the debt in full. It was the Elvish way.

So where Isendryll went, Camwen must come also. Or rather, the other way around. Where Camwen went, there, too, must Isendryll follow. She was now bound to this woman until her debt could be repaid. So she must try to convince the human to take her back to Broceliande, to warn her father.

But there was one other problem that Isendryll wasn't sure how to deal with. With the raids by the humans wreaking so much havoc among her people, if she brought one of them to her father's palace, the people might consider it to be an act of betrayal, even treason.

But she had no choice. She must warn her father, and she couldn't travel the forest now without an escort for safety. Isendryll looked sadly around the clearing at the fallen bodies of Elven and Human warriors alike. Her own escort was wiped out, her guards dead. And she was no warrior, just a simple healer. But this human woman had defended her once, even against her own race. Perhaps she would be willing to offer her protection as they traveled.

Isendryll searched the woman's face for any telltale expression that might hint at what she would be willing to do. "We should not linger here long. Blood has been shed, and soon the carrion birds will come and attract other dangerous creatures. Possibly even more raiders. That man who fled may bring back others, Camwen. If you would not wish to fight them again, it would be better if we both left this place. You are right; I need to warn my father. But now I have no escort, and it is dangerous to travel the forest alone."

"Will you take me to Broceliande? You've protected me once already. If your people learn of it, they will consider you to be their enemy as much as they think of me that way. I need your protection. I am no warrior, but I can offer my services to you in return. I can help you in ways you don't know about. I can heal you if you sustain injuries or sickness. We could help each other if we travel together."

"But before we go, the dead must be cared for." Isendryll turned her attention to the bodies laying in the clearing. She hoped that her words had convinced the warrior to go to Broceliande with her. If not, then Isendryll must follow wherever Camwen wanted to go. The elvish princess moved from one of her guards to another, arranging their limbs in peaceful repose, and collecting their weapons and personal effects. She hoped to be able to take them home to the families of the slain men, but that would depend now upon the decision of the human woman, now her only companion.

Isendryll paused when faced with the bodies of the humans warriors who had attacked them. She believed in her heart that even though they were the enemy in this struggle, they still were lives that were precious to someone, and deserved to be cared for with respect. But the reason she hesitated was that she wasn't sure what customs were common to the humans in their funeral rites. And she didn't want to do anything that would alienate or offend her one hope at having a protector.

With one hesitant glance towards Camwen, she continued with her work, arranging the human bodies in the same way as the elves, crossing their arms over their chest and closing their eyes reverently. As much as she could, she tried to arrange them to appear as if they were resting, rather than victims of sudden and horrific violence. Isendryll believed the dead should rest in peace, not strife.

As before, she collected the personal effects of the humans, but left their weapons. She returned to Camwen, offering the items that she'd taken from the human warriors with a silent prayer on her lips, heedless of the way her torn dress gaped open, exposing too much of her breasts. "I don't know what customs your kind have for your fallen, Camwen. I hope I have not offended you. Have you decided if you will take me with you to my home?"