Lords of Itaea

[One Eyed Jack]

General Wynou had paused the hard ride he's forced on his one hundred Cavalry (and the three civilians he brought with him). To survey the land. The most direct route was through a valley and going around it would almost double his travel time, but he knew that if an ambush awaited along his path, then surely it would be here.

As he continued examining the area through his spy glass, he missed the real danger – not that noticing would have given him time enough to react. Only one man saw it before the bovine carcass smashing into the center of his formation – exploding in a spray of blood and obviously rancid entrails. The screams and shouts of survivors began, and the General had trouble shouting louder to issue orders. Another of the damned cows hit, scatting his men even further. “Ride you fools, into the valley! An ambusher's bolt be far less leather then this treachery! Ride!” Roughly seventy men rode hard into the valley, fears of Morgiana's men were outweighed by fears of the only army that would launch such a vile attack.

Half way along the valley floor, the first rain of arrows hit the galloping formation, instantly cutting the number of survivors in half. Wynou knew he'd failed, even in escaping the sights of the Dark Forces, he;d led his men to die due to his haste. His only solace was that he'd die here with then, and die before Lord Pravus could touch him – he had no desire to be an experiment of that new witch of his.

Continuing to ride hard, the bolt with his name found it's mark, and he went rigid in the saddle. Coughing, “Ride, get word to the keep! But do not enter, Die outside it's walls, there is no saving us from the pestilence that we've been exposed to!” His last orders were punctuated by another arrow piercing his neck, knocking him from his mount. General Wynou's last sight was the last 10 men, of over one hundred, ride out of the valley under a continuous hail of arrows form the ridges.

-----------------------------------------​

Pravus watched over the camps as they were quickly packed and readied for their trip east. General Wynou might be out of his hair, but there were plenty of others to complain about what they thought best for the army. Tharalon's tent began looking more and more out of place as it's neighbors were packed up but hers remained untouched, guarded by a soldier at each corner. Nothing was to disturb her, even by accident.

Within three hours all but the slowest of the civilians were packed and ready, and organizing themselves in the line according to their assignments. The bulk of the army, all the foot and archer, and one regiment of cavalry would march at the front, ahead of the siege weapons, which were followed by the supply train – organized by most urgently needed to the front. The rest of his mounted forces, both lance and bowmen, would ride up and down the supply train to keep his flanks secure from attack.

Pravus, already mounted on his steed, guided the large animal through the busy crowd, keeping an eye on Tharalon's tent. They would all leave as soon as she was ready, and she'd be ready once she had crafted some trinket to aid his defense. His anticipation of her appearance was for many reaosns.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

By the time Lisheeda found her way out of the mammoth tunnels of the Dark Lord’s keep she was coated in blood. The stench of it often sent her stomach rolling and pitching, yet Bellatonia continued to drive her onward. “Freedom is within reach, my sweet one,” the ghostly image told her as they walked along the outer wall of the mountain fortress.

Lisheeda had killed four more men, one of them however had caught her off guard and delivered a long, deep slash down her right arm, before he met his maker. She ignored the pain, willing herself to follow the woman in front of her. “Which way?” she asked, using her thoughts to communicate with Bella instead of her voice.

“Here, come this way.”

She turned and saw the a beautiful sight. A stable rested quietly to the left of her and she ducked behind several boulders and bushes to gaze hungrily at swift legs that would carry her to freedom. “Which one?” she asked Bella.

“The stallion would be the best, but I doubt you could maintain the power in your body to control him. The young mare in the corral next to him. She’s not breeding nor in heat, so she’ll be easy to ride. Not as swift, but once in the woods, you should be safe. You reek of death though and should clean as soon as possible.”

“Will the horse be spooked?”

“No, it is trained to the smell of blood and will accept you. Hurry Lisheeda, I will wait.”

Lisheeda watched the ghostly image fade and felt a calm envelope her as Bellatonia slipped back into Lisheeda’s decaying mind. She flexed her wrist, and watched the glittering of red crimson glow in the light of the day. She knew she would have to kill the small stable boy to gain access to the horses, but it didn’t matter to her anymore. She craved freedom, and at any cost, whether it be to herself or to those around her, she would gain it.

Cautiously she stalked the child that was in charge of the horses, while the Lord and his soldiers were out. In one swift, upwards jab, the youngling lay spewing blood from his soft, parted lips. A part of Lisheeda squealed in delight, while the sane part of her quivered behind a growing shroud of darkness.

She walked into the corral where the mare rested and spoke softly to it. Soon she was stroking the beautiful creatures nose and then leading it to the gate, she’d left open. Swiftly she climbed onto its back and headed out in the opposite direction of where she’d been spending her life. She knew there were other leaders to avoid, but for now she had to find her freedom from the Lord of Darkness, whoever else she ran into she would deal with.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

A cry of alarm brought Morgaina away from her maps and she turned, making her way out of the General’s quarters. A guard stood in front of her, shielding her from whatever news had come forth that warranted whispered rumors running through the camp. She frowned up at him, an angry glare on her face.

“Explain yourself!” she demanded. All her men knew this particular act would be one that could end his life.

“Mistress, one of the soldiers has returned to the camp.”

“One?” she asked, her face changing to disbelief. “We lost all of them! What kind of fool loses all of my men!?”

She moved to walk around the guard, but was seized by his strong grip. Again she glared hotly at him, staring back at where he had grabbed her.

“If you value your hand you’ll remove it from my person immediately.”

The guard dropped his hold, but quickly added, “He’s dead and his body is already being burned. He was diseased, Mistress. I stopped you in hopes that you would not breathe in the toxic fumes of his burning flesh.”

Morgaina stared back at the group that was hovering a distance from another smaller group. “Slythe?” she asked.


“Yes, Mistress. While we were ambushing Pravus small group of carpenter, the Dark Lord attacked, both groups suffered greatly. The one that brought the message told us the news and then took his life.”

She ground her teeth together and stalked away.

“Deal with the three that are burning him. Provide ample funds to their families when we return home and bring me Olam!”

She walked back to the General’s tent to fume and plan. One thought ran through her head and each time it did she dismissed it, not wanting to admit she was going to need help.

 

[Tseranc]

The night before proved a constant distraction, though eh knew far better then to let it show. Fortunately most the soldiers half feared the magician; as if he was not safe if let off his leash. Fools, but today it suited him as no one asked where is mind was, and he was free to roam about while Mistress Morgaina saw to the running of her army.

It was when he found a quite spot, a bit off from the main body of the army and sat among the trees to meditate that he could left his guard down and meditate on the nights events. Could she really be warming to him, or was it stress of the current situation breaking her down? She'd survived many more demanding situations and battles, but then everyone had limits. Sane or not, his fate was bound to her, and actually had more then one reason to fear for her safety. Aside from his own...affections...the bracers on his arms bound him to her blood line beginning with her father; but she had no heir, if she fell to whom would he fall? Freedom seemed unlikely, though even free he would server her, and fear fro her safety.

During his secluded meditation in nature, he felt a taint enter. Something wrong, unnatural was present. As if the land itself was crying over a wrong being done. The taint and tears crawled into him as he communed with the woods until he eventually emptied his stomach and wept from it. Gathering him self he ran for the camp. Troops hustled about more urgent then before, clearly responding to some other situation. A man ran up to him, pushing his way through the crowd to reach him, “The Mistress demands your presence sorcerer.”

Grabbing a passing soldier, and relieving him of his water skin, Olam drank the whole thing down. “I am ready now, lead on.” He didn't need an explanation over what was happening, he knew that out in the woods. Pravus, as cruel and devious as the man was could never upset the land like this; The Dark Forces had attacked.

Entering the command tent, Olam bowed low, “My Mistress summoned and I obey. How May I serve you?”

 

[LitShark]

The massive ebony horse darted through the dense forest expertly. Slythe smiled to himself, for now they had gotten away free. For a moment Slythe considered looking back to be sure Rhonwen was keeping up with him, but he refused to indulge the curiosity. The time for emotions and compassion was long gone by now, Rhonwen was strong and her strength had been handsomey paid, if she couldn't keep up, she was more useful dead than alive. He had little doubt that she was capable, it might even insult her if he were to check on her.

Then again, the sight of her might be reward enough for the effort. Her long white hair trailing behind, splattered with the blood of the enemy. Slythe glanced back for a moment at his companion.

"We need to get you immunized if you're going to stay with us. My army utilized plague, it'd be a shame to lose you to this nasty little illness." Slythe said, still a bit aprehensious about immunizing a hired warrior against his strongest weapon.

As Slythe was lookingback at the stunning woman riding with him, another rode hard past them in the opposite direction. The smell hit him before the sight, whoever was riding past them smelled of blood and... feces.

Ordinarilly Slythe would have hunted any intruders riding at a full gallop through his forest, but there was no time to chase wounded drifters now.

Slythe rode all the way into his chamber before dismounting, he was already barking orders before his feet hit the ground.

"Retaliation is on the way. I want scouts out there raking the snow, I'll not have the enemy following our tracks! Someone roust the Night watch and get the marines ready. For God's sake, someone bring me Kanett!" Slythe's echo reached his ears again before he realized that he was shouting to himself. The walls of his chamber were splattered with blood, and there was only silence in the main chamber. "Rhonwen, stay back. It's not safe for you in here."

Slythe roared as she shot into the hallway.

Brita.

He had to make sure Brita was alright.

 

[Katamari Roller]

At first, Brita's dreams were as usual. Memories of the snow she had grown under. A deep blue sky, a blinding white sheet covering the ground, and her people and herself trudging effortlessly around, clearing the snow away from the entrances to their underground shelters. Brita could almost... truly... feel the cold snow on her hand. Finally, the entrance was clear, opening into something resembling a cave. Her family and others entered, and Brita followed them.

Their strides were even more effortless through the snow, almost ethereal, almost dream-like. Inside the cave, warmth awaited, and Brita went in without fear. She was home...

But then she felt 'her'. Something weird, something fearsome. A dark entity that hovered above the cave. Brita turned around as her family disappeared into the blackness underground, but she stood there, looking out. A ring of earth enveloped the sky from her perspective... and a shadow passed, momentarily obscuring everything. Whatever it was, it scared Brita so much she huddled against a wall, hiding among the piles of snow that the nightly snow storm had sent in.

It was a futile effort, for whatever that shadow was, it passed by without even noticing her. But Brita knew it was something strange that should not be trusted... that much, she 'knew'.



Brita opened her eyes, and found herself on Slythe's bed, still hugging the pipe he had left for her to duplicate. She rolled around onto her other side, looking at the door, still clutching the pipe protectively. Perhaps to protect the pipe, perhaps to use it to protect herself. Brita did not bother thinking any more about this as soon as Slythe entered.

The fact that Slythe might very have been the darkness in her dream went by completely unnoticed, or perhaps 'ignored' would be a better way of putting it. Her honey-eyed, silent stare, weilding a cheerful grin, greeted him. As usual.

 

[LitShark]

Slythe clutched the dense robes and armour about his chest, breathing a sigh of relief. Brita was alright, whatever plague had swept the halls of his keep had sparred his sweet mage any harm.

There was still so much to be done. This setback would be costly indeed but it needn't cost him his life if he were swift, yet in this moment leaving the beautiful young witch in his room seemed impossible.

He rushed to her, clutching her head against his chest, protective and possessive. He wanted her close to him, to feel the life still within her, to know that his master plan and is kingdom could still reach their potential.

"That thing I gave you, have you replicated it?" Slythe said softly, looking into her wide, loving eyes for a response.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Lisheeda raced as fast as she could through the woods, panicking once as she sped past the soldiers of the Dark Lord, but then felt herself grow more sure as they seemed to ignore her. A rush of victory fueled her further as she headed toward what she believed to be was Morgaina’s keep. She knew she couldn’t stop until she was far from the Dark Lord’s lands. In time though she had to admit that the creature she was riding had to rest.

She stopped the mammoth creature and slipped from its back. Softly she cooed to it, thankful she had someone else to talk to besides Bellatonia. She led it through the forest, eventually finding a puddle of water. Fear shot through her as she recalled the arts of Slythe and how no water was truly safe to drink unless tested first. She looked at her horse, but refused to make it drink the possibly tainted water. Urging the animal toward a tree was not difficult, and she found herself glad that Slythe had his animals trained so well.

She scrambled up a tree and scouted for a home to some forest animal. Her gaze landed on a small tree, where a mother squirlet was resting. She wiggled her way down the first tree, the up the one where the creature had been nervously watching. It spooked and ran away, upon which Lisheeda grinned and pushed her fingers into a nest of twigs and leaves. She felt the warmth of the babies and gathered them all up in one swoop.

Once down the tree, she opened her palm and found four squirlets wiggling as they tried to gather warmth from each other. “I’m sorry, wee ones,” she whispered as she pocketed three into her bloody robe and then carried the fourth over to the puddle. She dipped its nose into the water, pulled it quickly out and then waited. After five minutes she knew it had to be safe for her horse to draw from, as well as herself.

Both horse and filthy woman drank deep of the water, before Lisheeda tucked the baby creature into her pocket with its brothers or sisters, remounted her steed and trotted slowly through the woods, in hopes of finding someone who she could call friend and not enemy.

 

[Katamari Roller]

Brita felt surprised at Slythe's swiftness of movement. He rushed to her as if he was worried, and he had clutched his clothes about him. The dream she had just experienced somehow linked with the real world, and Brita shivered in fear. What had entered his fortress and strode through it at will? For Slythe to be so worried...

But she hid her worries, and looked at him as happily as ever when he asked her. How long had it been since he had left, and she had fallen asleep? Brita did not know, for there were no windows to look at the sky so deep into Lord Zathu's fortress. Brita simply relied on her eyes, and slid away from Slythe, looking where the pipe she was holding was. Right beside it, there was another pipe. This one was still faint, even if it was more solid than transparent. The white sheets still insinuated themselves from under it, and Brita sighed. It would still take her at least another hour to finish it, by the look of it.

Her eyes fixed upon Slythe's, hoping he was satisfied with this much for now, and that her powers were giving him what he needed.

 

[LitShark]

Slythe's green orbs twinkled for a moment in shock as he beheld the half formed replica that sat on the bed. Slythe had hoped for at least 2 new cylinders that he could distribute. This was not good.

He had already announced himself to the enemy, it was uncertain how long they would spend killing one another for him. Whoever it was that triumphed would come for him after. He had to be ready. Yet he'd sooner allow the enemy to vanquish him than express his displeasure to Brita.

"It's perfect my sweet, stick with it. I'll be back shortly." Slythe cooed, "Do please try and hurry, I'd like to keep you close by. The safest place for you right now is by my side."

With that, Slythe darted from the room. His next priority was to find Kannet and figure out what the hell had happened here. Slythe quickly made his way down the blood spattered hall, stepping over bodies of guards as he went.

"Kannet!!" Slythe shouted, "Anyone alive fucking answer me!"

His echo gave way at last to a soft whimpering sound, comming from somewhere behind him. Slythe followed the sound as best he could but saw nothing. It was then that he noticed something out of place. Kannet's massive drum was leaning against the wall of the stone hallway, also splattered with blood. Slythe reached down and quickly overturned the huge drum. Undernieth he found Kannet, curled up in a ball and sobbing in sheer terror.

"What the hell is wrong with you man? You're hiding and cowering like a woman! It's your time to shine, it's time to begin the plan! What has happened in here?" Slythe seethed as he pulled the still trembling boy to his feet.

"THE BITCH!!!" Kannet shouted. "IT WAS THE SEX BITCH! She was like a whirlwind, so much blood."

"Blood? You dare talk to me about blood with war on our doorsteps? You have only seen a puddle of blood, by tonight there will be an ocean. The snow shall be dyed red by the morning. Collect your men, and get ready." Slythe ordered, inches from the man's face. When he was finished he let Kannet go. "Oh and Kannet, for the record, YOU are the bitch."

Slythe strode back toward his chamber.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

When Tharalon emerged from her tent, looking tired and worn, he had her gently placed in the back of a wagon, filled with hay and blankets to lay on. That one wagon was ordered to the front of the line to be near him, and the order to move out was issued. Up and down the line foot, horses and wagons began to creep forward. Once moving it was a wide snake over a mile long marching toward the last remaining keep he held on the mainland.

Pravus rode beside the wagon holding his precious sorceress, watching over her as she slept. She much have expended a great deal of energy in craft the item, which he assumed was still on her person. He'd press her for it when she woke.

Hours rolled by as the large caravan moved steadily forward, but then the scouts came riding back as hard as they could, kicking the sides of their beasts to gain every ounce of speed the animal would give. Diseased and arrow ridden bodies that not even the vultures or flies would touch. The 100 cavalry and the crafts men he'd sent ahead with General Wynou had been ambushed on two sides, and force to ride through a trapped valley. All this having happened much earlier this morning but who knew what forces still were in the area. Prvus's immediate thoughts went to Morgania and Slythe joinign forces, but that line of thought was soon ended when more scouts came riding in to report that Morgania had been attacked by disease and treachery of the sort only Slythe would ever even contemplate. So that Bitch had been attacked while busy attacking him – served her right.

“Move of to the north, we'll avoid the valley altogether. It will take longer, and only begin reaching the keep by nightfall, but we will not stop. Have every other wagon pull off and feed and water it's team, when they rejoin the other half may do the same – but we press on.”

It would take many more hours to reach his goal now, and his blood boiled at how is foothold in the region, once rock solid, seemed to be crumbling beneath him.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgiana wanted nothing more than to bury her head in Olam’s chest and release the burden of running her army on another’s shoulders, but she couldn’t show that weakness, nor did she want to. She was still strong and still a force to be reckoned with. Secretly she hoped the desire she was finding with Olam on this other plane of existence would not force her to act unwisely.

“Olam as you have heard, I am sure, our men have been attacked by Lord Slythe. We have lost many and now that end of the woods is diseased, so we have lost use of that land until it is cleansed with fire and our people inoculated with whatever liquids you can conjure up,” she sighed.

Olam nodded his head, indicating his understanding of the situation. He moved closer to her and she breathed in his scent. A few of her generals were still with her and she hoped she masked her feelings well enough that they didn’t see the need in her.

“I need you to make up as much vaccine as you can for our people here in the battlefield. Take whatever men you need to gather up whatever herbs you may need. If there is something back at the keep you are going to have to have, then I will send a scout, just give him instructions and he will follow them.”

She then turned to one of her Generals.

“I want you to take a missive to Pravus, under the flag of truce. It tells him to meet with me on the banks of Oklahey river. There is an open meadow there. The missive explains of the attack and a need I have to meet privately with him and two of his top aides. Olam if you are able to trust others with the task of making this vaccine than you will attend this meeting, if not then I will take two others with me.”

“I believe we are going to have to play nice with the lesser of two evils. . . I just hope Pravus is the lesser.”

She dismissed the Generals, handing one the missive and then turned to Olam.

“Is there anything you’d like to add to this, or do you feel I have acted hastily?”

 

[Tseranc]

“Yes of course Mistress.” He nodded and agreed eagerly to set find any protection could against the ghastly methods the Dark Forces used. He let his mind wander over his new task as she returned to talking to the generals.

He was mentally cataloging possible reagents he might need when she turned back to him, and found himself in a tent alone with her, with a question he could never have expected in a million years.

“I believe you to have acted wisely Mistress.” He had heard the part about a truce, but hadn't thought on it as that was for politics and warriors, while diseased weapons were his to worry on. “Lord Pravus will likely see the situation the same as you, that a two front war is far more disastrous then attempting to put together overwhelming numbers to crush the most deadly of your foes.” He thought back to his dream about the wolf and the falcon in the storm. Was Slythe the storm, or did the dream foretell of something further into the future? “That said, my Mistress, Lord Pravus has proven a cunning foe to all that have opposed him. His prowess on the battlefield I believe is not so deadly as his ability to attack from within. As I have read, he gained his current post by turning the previous lords forces against him. Your men are loyal, but the closer he is the more chances he'll have to detect a weak link. I fear you must be better at his game then he, else when he no longer needs the truce, he will strike in a manner we cannot foresee.”

Despite his constant reminders to himself not to overstep his bounds, he felt that such obvious warnings were needed, if only to prove he was aware of what she faced and prove he was not a weakness a foreign lord could exploit.

“If it pleases you, I shall make the list for your man to gather from the keep and set men to gathering the local herbs I shall need. They are common, and with some powders from the keep I should be able to counter these poisons for a short time.”

 

[One Eyed Jack]

When, at long last the army arrived at the fortress, matters looked as dire as he feared. Supplies were nearly exhausted, and repairs were needed from the small skirmishes that went on in the area. In brief, it suffered from poor management and organization. Troops looked like they spent more time rolling dice then drilling. Things would have to change – tonight.

After entering, he relieved the local guards with the Red Hands, and had all captains of the guard, as well as the lowest ranking in each company summoned to the central hall. When all had arrived – many late – he had the garrison commander brought in, under guard. “Commander Kusyr. You've let my mainland defenses wither away. It was with you that I left all defenses, and you spent your time and energy drinking and delighting in the comforts of your station instead of ever building up our forces.”

“No, that is not true Sir! We've been under constant attack! We've done all we can...” the man pleaded, but his groveling fell on deaf, and tired ears.

“Border skirmishes do not count for constant attack! They do not account for the lazy nature of the troops under your command! They do not account for the mismanagement of your stores! I come to make war on the world, and you've hamstrung my efforts!” Pravus was infuriated, and not restraining any of his anger for those assembled. He marched up to Kursyr, and drew his longsword in one smooth motion – it's initial swing from the scabbard removing the Commanders head. The body had not even gone limp, nor the head finished rolling before he shouted at the assembled captains. “All captains where were assigned here are now mere footmen. You young lads, you are now the Captain's of this fort's guard. You may trade rank with those who are now under your command. Do not disappoint me as your predecessors have.”

He dismissed everyone, after having agreed to rotate his regular army on the watch for the remainder of the night, to let his Red Hand's rest for the coming day. Had he been thinking, he would have sent the command to Tharalon for her to test her skills in causing pain, but his anger had gotten the better of him, and he need a shocking example set that night, not in the morning, or days from now. Word of his fury would spread throughout the fortress within the hour. Tomorrow would a new day, but with a motivated army.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgiana listened to Olam and she knew in her gut it was wise to have the man on her side when it came to dealing with a War. In her bed...she wasn’t sure if that were wise or not. She knew her heart was weakening when it came to matters concerning her magician, but she also knew she longed for something more. What was the question.

“Gather the men you believe will serve you well. They will follow your commands and do as you require of them. If not, then do not hesitate to come to me and inform me of their treasonous ways. I will deal swiftly with them.”

She then turned and wrapped her arms around her waist, took another calming breath and closed her eyes. When she was ready she faced Olam again.

“We will meet with Pravus in the morning or after we break our lunch. It will all depend on how quick the dispatcher gets to him, if he gets to him at all. Hopefully the Lord will not cut him down before he gets his job done.”

She smiled weakly, claimed a seat and studied her magician.

“I worry about you Olam. As soon as you can you must rest. A long lengthy one in my tent will suffice, though I do know it will be some time before you are able.”

“Go now and take whomever you need to do your duty.”

 

[Tseranc]

Olam bowed deeply, and made his exit. He knew a few of the soldiers well enough to know they were not fools, and chose them for his errand. They were willing, though a few hesitant to leave Morgiana's guard. But not one had a complaint of leaving a disease infested battlefield, even if just temporarily. Time away was time not being attacked.

After carefully, even painstakingly describing all the items to be gathered, and where they could be found, he felt confident to let the men go to their work. He should have the materials by night fall, and would begin his work then. Until then it was damage control. Making sure that those that had died were moved off and their bodies burned. All those that handled the bodies were to make their own camp for the night, down wind from the main camp. If there were alive in the morning, they could rejoin the army.

Beyond that it was just a matter of waiting. Waiting for supplies, waiting for word from Lord Pravus, and waiting in hopes that Slythe was not ready to ambush them again. So while he waited, he returned to his Mistress's tent, and made himself comfortable. Within a flash he was sound asleep, not knowing his own fatigue.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Lisheeda came to a sudden halt as she stared into the woods. Her eyes were full of fright and her body tense as she thought of what way to turn. She knew though that it was too late, she’d been spotted by the warriors and already they were circling and advancing toward her. She straightened herself, the horse under her rump shifted nervously as it sensed her discomfort. Her dirty fingers reached down and she stroked the soft fur. The looks that raked across her body made her think of Lord Slythe and his introduction to the art of sexual conquering. She swallowed nervously as the first man to reach her grabbed her thigh. He gave it a firm squeeze; she kicked at him, felt him grab her tighter and soon she was sliding from the horses back and was clenched in the mammoth man’s arms.

Lisheeda screamed and fought off the man’s hands, hoping to catch some fragile part of his body and cause him pain. Her struggles ceased as her own pain consumed her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed against the man’s chest.

“She stinks,” he muttered, tossing her limp body over his shoulder and then making his way through the other men who had merely watched the interaction between the dirty girl and their captain. “Get a bath ready for her. We’ll wash her up, see what she has to offer, then make our way back to the keep. I’m sure our Lady will like a new slave... but why not try her out for ourselves first.”

The others laughed and the man slapped the unconscious Lisheeda’s ass with his big hand. A moan fell from her lips as the pain ran up her spine, but she didn’t wake up as she was carried back to a small encampment of men and beasts.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Hours passed as Morgiana watched the orders of her magician being carried out. She kept close tabs on him and knew when he had returned to her tent. She wanted to go to him, but knew he needed his rest. The morrow would prove hectic for them both as well as Pravus if he dared to double cross her.

She hoped the man delivering the missive survived the trip in and out of the other Lord’s camp. She doubted he would, but if he didn’t then it meant Pravus wasn’t going to cooperate with her and she would have to deal with him first before tackling the Dark Lord.

In time it was obvious to Morgiana that her men were growing restless as was she. Her gaze rested briefly on two of her top guards and she signaled for them to attend her. In time the three of them were locked in a mock battle where they fought to destroy the other.

Morgaina felt every blow as well as delivered her own strong and powerful ones. All the men she sparred with knew her rule...they were to treat her as an equal. If she felt they were toying with her because she was a woman and were holding back they would suffer greatly. So she was quite exhausted by the time both men called “peace”.

She accepted both their bows and then made her way to her tents. A few scratches, bumps and bruises littered her flesh, but she shrugged them off. None of the wounds would scar and she was sure there was no worry of infection with all the herbs she drank thanks to her magician.

She ordered a bath drawn and soon her tents were being warmed by hot coals and steam was rolling up and circling the canvas roof.

Her gaze shifted to Olam. She sensed he was awake, but she said nothing to him as she disrobed. She slipped into the water, then leaned back and closed her eyes as its heat soaked into her bones.

Soon she was dozing in the depths of cooling liquid and her mind was dreaming of a girl surrounded by men about to take turns with her.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

He had barely gotten under the covers, after ravishing a slave who, quite surprisingly, proved rather satisfying, when a knock came at the door. “What in the blazes of both suns do you want?!” he bellowed, and made his way to the door.

On the other side was a frightened man with news that a rider had come, under a banner of truce, from Lady Morgiana Winter. He scowled at how even his own men gave her respect enough of a title when referring to her. 'Troublesome Bitch' would be title enough, as far as he was concerned.

But still, a two front war was not what he'd come for, and he figured she must have the same worries to be offering a truce after having smashed his defenses so well. He could recover from her attacks, but at the cost of leaving her time to bolster her own. Was this offer just a ploy to get even more time from him?

“Take the messenger, under heavy guard, to the small meeting room. I shall be there momentarily.”

Waking his servants to dress and ready him for yet another meeting, he let them tend to him almost absentmindedly. They knew their tasks, and when done, he looked ready to command, as if sleep never held sway over him. Perfect.

He joined Morgiana's man in the small room, taking the large, ornate chair, while the man was left to kneel on the cold stone floor – two guards flanking him. “I hear you bring news from your vile Mistress? Well out with it, before I grow bored with her messenger.”

The man, obviously one of her better, showed no emotion, but related the offer of a truce, for the purpose of defeating the Dark Forces versus being divided by them. After he had heard all, he called for his scribe. He wrote the note himself,signed it, then sealed it with his signet ring:

My dear Lady Winter,
While your treacherous ways know no bounds, I hope, for your sake, that this offer of a truce is sincere. I accept it, on the grounds your man has laid out, and shall ride to meet you with not over 100 men at the field 5 miles north east of this fortress at noon tomorrow. I shall have only 100 mean as well, and should we detect any deceit, the consequences will be rather bloody.

Assuming your sincerity, I look forward to our meeting. However, in the event this was merely an attempt to spy on our defenses, I offer back your man as to how we treat spies in Molovica.

With respect,
Lord Pravus

Her messenger was sent back on his way to Lady Winter, after having the sealed letter placed in his coat pocket, his fingers all broken beyond repair, his tongue cut out, ans his ears removed. His eyes remained only so he could find his way back to his Mistress. He would be unable to relate anything he had seen while within the walls of Pravus' fortress.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

The men took a turn at sticks to see who would wash Lisheeda. They'd unceremoniously dropped her on the ground, where she rolled and instinctively, in her unconscious state curled up into a ball. When it had been determined who would bath the girl the remaining men drew sticks again to see who would defile her body first.

Hopper, the smallest of the group had come last in the first game and so he was the one that had to ready the bath and the last to take his turn at her. His cock ached as he hauled cold water from a nearby lake. He knew the water to be safe, for they had let their animals drink deep from it. He then carried the cold bucket over to the unconscious girl and leered at her nakedness. Another man came over and he lifted her up and together they poured icy liquid over Lisheeda.

In seconds her eyes were wide and her body shivering. A scream of anguish, followed by the look of fear crossed her face as she realized she was being held and scrubbed down. She struggled, only to receive a hard fist to the temple which made her head spin. She bit down on her lower lip and tried to find the voice in her head that she knew would save her. Where was Bellatonia? She asked herself and then she felt her presence.

A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips and she slumped in Hopper's arms. His fingers dug into her ass cheeks and he growled low as he ground his cloth-covered sex against her now clean one. “You didn't win boy,” a gruff voice echoed out and Lisheeda was hauled away. She whimpered, but kept her gaze fixed on the ghostly image that stood at the edge of the camp.

“Bellatonia,” she whispered and received a knock upside the head.

“Shut-up girl, they'll be only one reason to open your mouth and one reason only.” The man grinned, exposing several rotten teeth and spaces where many were missing. Lisheeda shuddered, kept her mouth close, but continued to stare at her other self.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam knew his Mistress was present, but remained where he was, as he had not been summoned to do more then relax until her men returned with his reagents; and she had made relaxing a command. So, knowing the woman who held his salvation was near, her tried to resume sleeping in her bed, and finally drifted off into a light sleep once more.

But then a dream came to him, of his Mistress, though a smaller, younger and far more unkempt version, being assaulted, as men in armor prepared to violate her. His heart raced, as he could feel the pulled of her need to be saved from these evil men on his bones.

He shot up in bed, and raced to his Mistress's side, sighing with relief to find her safe in the tub. But yet that pull remained, and it was not in the least lessened by having reached her side. Confusion filled him, as he ached to race to where he already was, yet if felt far off, to the south east; how he could tell, was beyond him, adding to his frustration.

His face twisted as he tried to think the matter through, and knew from the look Mistress Morgiana gave him, he'd have some explaining to do.

“Forgive me Mistress, I have had a terrible dream, one I would swear was a vision. In it I saw a woman, who resembled yourself in distress at the hands of several soldiers. But on waking, I feel the pull of need on me, as I do for only you.” He did not motion to the bracers permanently affixed to his arms, as he knew there was no need. Whenever she needed him, or strongly willed it, he would feel and come running, and both knew why.

He winced in pain, as the urge tugged on him ever stronger, as he wondered how it could be. He looked pleadingly into Mistress Winter's eyes, begging for answers on what to do about this.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgaina rose from her wet bed, the tub’s water now cold from her slumbering form having soaked up its heat. She wrapped a towel tightly around her as she heard her magician pleading to her and telling her of his dreams.

She’d never discounted Olam’s visions, in fact she found most of them fascinating and it was one of his many talents she rather enjoyed. Unless they proclaimed bad news.

“Perhaps it is just a future vision. Perhaps I am to be injured in some way and taken by many.”

She could tell by his face that he didn’t believe that to be the case. The bands on his arms marked him as hers and that came from the fact that she was a descendent of her father’s bloodline. Could another be needing him?

Morgaina frowned. There were no other Winters. She was the last. She’d seen to it herself. Her father had died as did her brother, so whomever this being in Olam’s vision was, was not someone Morgaina would know.

Still they were at war and she could not have her Magician warring with himself. She needed him beside her and in perfect form.

“Take three men and follow the pull you feel. Whatever you find deal with it and then return to me immediately with your tale. I will not have you lost to me, so take my top three guards. Be quick Wizard,” she hissed as she pulled his mouth to hers and covered his lips with her own.

She released him and then turned away. She didn’t like this feeling of dread that was washing through him and feeding its way through her body.

“Go!” she yelled, not wanting to order him to stay and suffer, but she knew she was close to doing so.

 

[Tseranc]

The kiss, and its force, matching the force of her demand to seek the problem, all surprised him, though not so deep down, it was quite wonderful surprises. “Yes my Mistress.” He bowed low, relishing her taste on his lips, as he backed out of her tent.

Olam gathered the three soldiers she had instructed, and met no resistance in convincing them to go. No one would dare fake an order such as this. They rode hard, the pull on his bones forcing him to spur the horse beneath him more then he ever should, but he could not help himself. Fortunately the guards kept up, and soon he knew he was close to the source of this....anomaly.

Up ahead, a disturbance could be heard, though it was odd as the men's voices seemed almost celebratory. Before he could press on to see, the three large guardsmen leaped ahead of him, to put themselves between this threat and the magician. Morgiana apparently did value him highly.

As they came through the bush, surprised men scattered away, abandoning the body of the woman his his vision. On closer inspection she did not resemble Morgiana as well as he had thought, though there were certain similar features. They could be cousins, or at a stretch, sisters. The pull on his being nearly had him falling out of the saddle to rush to her side. “Who are you?” His confusion outweighing even his concern, which made him feel guilty.

Lifting her away from the others, he commanded the guards, “Hold those men for questioning! I need answers to all that happened here!” He never even thought about ordering the guards, and they seemed not to mid taking them from the magician.

Setting the young girl down away from everyone else, his concern for another human finally kicked in, and he grew angry at what he was sure he had interrupted. “What happened here girl?”

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

She stared at the man who had lifted her away from the ones that were about to rape her. She had reserved herself to her fate, Bellatonia had appeared to comfort her and to ride out the pain with her, but now she wasn’t in the arms of the cruel men, but was being looked at as if she were a rare piece of silk. His words came to her and she glanced behind him to see Bellatonia shrugging her shoulders. “What do I say?” she asked the ghostly image.

“Tell him the truth. You were riding and they grabbed you. Don’t tell him where you hail from, he very well could be one of Slythe’s men. Sent to find you...”

“We did pass them,” she whispered back to Bellatonia and licked her lips. She tasted blood and frowned, then realized the man still stared at her. She blushed and lowered her head. “I was riding and they brought me down from my horse.” She nodded to the creature they had tethered to a nearby tree a small distance from their own mounts.

“Gain your freedom, girl.”

“He’s not going to let me leave,” Lisheeda growled low as Bellatonia moved to stand beside her. “He’ll probably just finish the deed they were trying.” Lisheeda looked at the stranger and scurried away, hoping to place some distance between them. Her eyes glanced around and she saw the other three soldiers who were guarding the first three men. “Six... no seven of them, oh Bella I will die,” she whispered and then felt the tears fall.

She looked at the stranger and shook her head. “Please... please don’t. Just let me go and I’ll find my home. Please,” she cried and buried her face in her hands. Lisheeda felt Bellatonia stroke her hair and whisper words to her.

“You’ll take whatever these fools dish out. Stop your sniffling. You killed dozens of men in Slythe’s own keep! You know the way in! You are not a sniffling puddle. Take the beatings and the rapes and learn from them. Lisheeda! WE have great things ahead of us.”

“NO! I don’t want to be great. I want to go home!” Lisheeda screamed and jumped up to run into the forest.

 

[Tseranc]

As soon as the girl ran, that pull was on him, and he was sprinting to catch up almost before he knew it. The girl was quick on her feet, and must have been caught by surprise by the men who looked to be ready to take advantage of her.

She remained within sight as he run, stumbled, and ran some more after her. After nearly a hundred yards of this insanity, he knew the girl had more endurance then he, so decided to expend his energies in another manner.

He stopped to reach down and grab break off a piece of the brush they were running through. Closing his eyes and quickly chanting, his hands closed over the twig like net.

The bushes would now stop the girl, and hold her long enough for him to explain himself to her. He followed now at a more leisurely pace, feeling utterly exhausted, and wondering if just running might not have been easier after all.