Lords of Itaea

[ZuesTheGod]

“There is no sign of the witch, Lord Mochan.”

He looked up from the parchments he'd been reading and stared at the soldier before him. “Disappeared has she?” he said as he pressed the quill back into the thick crimson fluid he had drained from his brother's body. He signed one of the papers he'd been reading and then sanded the wet mark. “Arrange a search party to find her, and bring her back to me. Also the slave that my brother unceremoniously deflowered; find her and you will be greatly rewarded.”

Mochan saw the greed in the man's eyes and knew that if he didn't return with either both of the women or at least one of them, it wouldn't be because he didn't try. He turned back to his work and began to write letters to those that lived under the rule of the former Dark Lord. He knew that his ability to read and write would come as a shock to those under his thumb, but he had never been one to accept his fate for long. He knew in his heart that his place would one day be to sit on the throne of all of Itaea, so he quietly sat in the corners, absorbing all he could and being invisible.

Hours passed, the sun fading away and eventually forcing Mochan to abandon his work and seek his slumber in his newly cleaned chambers. He paused at the quarters of the sex slaves his brother had continuously used and picked one of the more experienced women. She gazed at him with a sense of both fear and pride for being chosen first to ease his needs.

 

[Babette_____]

Tharalon heard the sound of shuffling feet moving through the room that had been given to her. She turned toward the sound and opened her eyes taking in the slim servant that was moving quickly about the room. She thanked her as the woman turned and began to leave the room. Tharalon’s gaze shifted to the meal that had been left in the girl’s wake and was surprised by the growl that erupted from her stomach.

She had forgotten when the last time she ate had been. The morning light danced about the room and she glanced over to the medallion. It had taken her much longer than she’d anticipated. The forming of it hadn’t been time consuming, it was the imbuing of it. That had drained her. Tharalon locked the knowledge away and rose from the warmth of the bed. She padded over to the meal and sat down to enjoy the sweet bread and the soupy, yet surprisingly tasty mush that she had no name for. Once she was finished, she thought of requesting a bath. That desire however was lost to her when a quick tap on the door drew her attention away.

“Come in,” she whispered in a quiet, voice, then coughed and repeated the request. A man stepped in, but not fully and glanced about the room. “Yes?”

“Lord Pravus has need of you.”

Her eyes grew wide as she thought of Lord Pravus and what need he may have of her. She nodded her head and told the man that she would present herself as soon as she was able. He nodded his head and then left her alone. Tharalon tried to not think of Pravus and the intimate joining of their bodies. It was pointless though, all thoughts seemed to hover on being with him again. Several minutes passed as she thought of once more having his lips upon her flesh and learning more about the desires he’d awoken in her. In time she composed herself and dressed in a simple gown of gray linen, and soft slippers.

As she made her way to her new Lord, she held his medallion in her hand. Her fingers gripped it tighter as she was shown where Pravus was. She passed a man, trembling in fear, locked in irons and cowering in front of all that had gathered to witness his punishment.

The pit of her stomach rolled and she fought for strength. “You called for me?” she asked, once reaching his side. Tharalon feared what words would come out of Pravus’s mouth, but she also ached to hear his voice again.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

She wasn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep, but when she did open her eyes it was to stare at the still form of her mage. She rose from the chair she’d spent the night in and walked over to the side of the bed, her back stiff and her neck sore from the uncomfortable position she’d forced on herself.

Gently she ran her fingers through Olam’s hair, pushing it from his brow. She smiled at the coolness of his skin and knew that the punishment from the night before had no ill effects from any cuts that may have been caused. She sat down next to him and lifted the covers, viewing the pink welts that were more healed than they would have been had she not insisted on the creams he created as well as the drink she’d forced him to accept.

“You are amazing,” she whispered as she traced the pink skin, pulling away when he shifted in his rest.

Morgaina bent down and pressed her lips to his ear.

“It is time to rise, my . . . The sun has risen and so must we,” she said with a much stronger voice than she’s started out with. Once she had his attention, she stepped away and waited for him to come completely awake,. Once he had she set her face in a mask of confidence and strength, two things she was not sure she had anymore when Olam was around.

“We’ll have our breakfast and then be on our way to meet with Pravus. Are you well rested, or do you seek a few more hours?”

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus saw the medallion he had given her to imbue, as she had requested to do for him, held tightly in her hand. He did not ask for it – knowing it was brought with her meant it was done. She would give it to him when she felt ready, and if that never came, ti could be taken from her.

“Yes, my dear, I sent for you. I have need of your services. It is also a test of your power, which I told you I wish you to explore.” He pointed to the frightened man, who had no idea what this woman could do to him, and yet he knew to quake with fear. “This man, this thing, is a traitor. He would betray our country for the smallest price. He has committed crimes, and been been judged judged guilty under our laws.”

He rose, and placed his hand on her upper arms. Looking into those hazel eyes, he told her her role in this. “I want you to kill him. I want to know that you can be strong for me, and see justice done. War is not pretty, and that is what we march into. This is even easier then war. I want you to walk over there, and take that wretched life. This will test your power, and your strength.”

Pravus held her a moment longer before letting go, and retaking his seat. His eyes were fixed on her, his powerful gaze watching her every twitch.

 

[Babette_____]

Tharalon’s grey eyes grew wide with shock and fright as she stared at the chained man and then back at her Lord. Words were lodged in her throat as she tried to comprehend what he had asked of her. Back and forth her gaze traveled. The man’s eyes were just as wide as hers. His body suddenly frozen in fear as he stared back at Tharalon. She stepped back, placing her hands behind her back and clenching the medallion even tighter.

“My Lord, I do not need to test my power in this regard,” she told him. Her voice was imploring as she went on, “I know I could do this, but it is not my desire to. I do not kill. I avoid it at all costs. His deed could not have been so horrid as to constitute death. What has he done?”

She wasn’t sure why she was questioning her Lord in front of his men. She had heard stories of his horrific deeds, but she’d not yet seen that side to him. She thought of the herb garden, the dresses, the promise to help her learn more of her magic. Then she thought of their night together. There was a heart in this man, she had seen it.

“My Lord, please do not ask this of me. I can not do it.”

Her fingers moved to her side and she dropped the medallion into her pocket. Her gift would be his, as a reward, she told herself and then waited nervously for him to pass out a new punishment for the supposed traitor.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus stood, frowning at her words. “Do not wish to? Can not do it? I've given you everything, invited you into my home and trust. You crippled a man who was doing his duty to bring you to me. He committed no crime at all, but your powers were employed. Now I give you a test to use them for a purpose under our law, and you balk.” He touched her face, knowing she could no more wound him, as she could a criminal.

“I do not wish you harm, or to suffer – but you will learn to use your ability to serve. I need you to be a weapon against our enemies – enemies that will employ far more dire tricks with their mages and deceptions then perhaps you ever could. If you do not learn this, many more of your country men will die then necessary. Look at them,” he pointed his finger an an arc around them, to every one in the crowd surrounding them. “Tell them that you will not do all you can to limit their suffering, as they prepare for this war. Healing the wounded is only half your ability Tharalon, you can prevent many of those wounded and dead by becoming all you can.”

He kissed her brow, and took his seat, but only after drawing one of his short, light, swords. “That man must die, here and now for treason, as our law states. Will it be done by you, or me?”

 

[Tseranc]

Olam woke as she spoke, hearing her claim him amazing, unaware if that part was real or dream. “I am well Mistress, your kindness has aided my recovery. Thank you.” His eyes looked up at her, wishing he could just leap off the table and rush to hold her. To kiss her. To be an man and woman, as nature intended, not held back by the reality of their world.

“Thank you for breakfast, I am sure I can be of use to you today when you meet with your foe.” He didn't want to offer too much about his feelings for Lord Pravus. He had to practice, even now, to advise only when asked. He must be the perfect servant of his Mistress, for her sake. She had a nation to lead, and her methods meant she could not show weakness. He understood this, and was just grateful for the few glimpses of the tender woman that lay under the armor of her position.

He rose off the bed, and made his way to where the fruits and bread were, and waited for Morgaina to begin eating, though his eyes, lingering on her too long, spoke of his feelings for the woman beyond the simple kindness of a meal and medical treatment.

 

[Babette_____]

She stared at him for several agonizing seconds. The stories of his horrific deeds filled her mind and she found herself truly scared once more in his presence. Her gaze shifted from his eyes and back to the blade in his hand. She licked her lips in nervousness and swallowed the lump in her throat. With trembling fingers she reached out and placed her hand over his. She pushed it down, away from her and then turned to face the supposed traitor.

Her face showed the struggle of committing an act she had no desire for. She healed people and wounding them was not natural for her. Her lower lip trembled as she took one step than another. As she carried herself, the weight of her actions bore down on her shoulders, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

She paused and looked back at Pravus. Her gaze begged him to retract his demand, but she knew it was pointless. He would kill this man if she didn’t. Yet, she knew in her heart she could not kill him. Biting her lip again, she faced the accused and settled on her knees in front of him.

“I do not wish to do this,” she told him, “it will be painful. I am sorry,” she then leaned in and whispered, “but you must trust me in the end.”

Tharalon placed both hands on the squirming man, now desperately trying to free himself from his chains. As soon as she touched him he stilled and his eyes grew wide with fright. Tharalon felt her body begin to burn with an intense heat, a heat that she’d never experienced before. She closed her eyes tight and focused all her energy into sending that heat into her victim. At the same time, an underlying current of healing properties followed the deathlike magic she was spreading through the traitor.

She blocked out his screams and felt tears splash down her cheeks to land on her arms. Still she continued to pour her power into the man who was now no longer moving. His eyes had bulged, then fluttered closed. Tharalon took a deep breath and began to cool his flesh with her unseen abilities. His breathing became ragged and choked. Eventually no sound poured from his chapped lips and his dry flesh. Sores appeared as if he’d been scorched from the sun, instead of her warm fingers. Cracked skin, oozed blood and puss. His eyes seeped a yellow liquid and his ears bubbled with wax that had been melted from the rising temperature of his body.

As she felt the faint beat of his heart, she drew her hand away, knowing that no other would detect the faint and almost lifeless pulse. The flesh of her victim was so destroyed that few would want to look upon it for long. She closed her eyes again, taking a deep breath and then rising on unsteady feet. She staggered a few steps and then collapsed, exhausted at the use of her power for such a heinous act. In her head though she swore she would only rest as long as she needed before righting the wrong she’d done.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Lord Pravus watched, and even his stomach threatened to turn at the image before him. Nearly all the gathered crowd turned away in horror. But he watched, never flinching outwardly until she departed the dead man, and stumbled toward him, eventually falling. Then he snapped his fingers and had two guard pick her up, and take her to her room.

“Let this serve as warning to any who would harbor treacherous thoughts. This is your fate should you betray your kingdom!”

A murmur ran through the crowd, and he left, following the guards who had ushered the witch away. Tharalon was placed gently on her bed, and food and water brought in, ready for the moment she woke. He pulled a chair over to her bed, as a maid came in to attend to the girl. He watched her being cared for, and would be here when she woke.

He was pleased she went through with it, but the initial refusal had to be addressed still. He hoped she would understand. It was much easier being kind to a powerful witch, who's ability surprised even him today. But should she prove to be constantly defiant, he would have to use harsher means.

He looked down at her limp, beautiful body, and hoped he did not need to use those means – as he still wanted to enjoy her body without fear of the very abilities he was promoting.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

The sun rose and cast its light on Lisheeda. She felt the familiar aches and pains as her body woke to the knowing signs of having slept in a tree. This was where she belonged, she told herself. She looked around for Bellatonia and felt a peace settle over her. The woman was gone and a part of Lisheeda missed her, but another part told her it was best that the ghostly companion had left her.

She climbed down from her perch on the tree and settled into a routine that had been stolen from her. She took care of her morning needs, covering her waste with dry leaves and rotted wood. The beasties of the forest would seek her out if she left too many scents behind. Lisheeda found the river, tested it with the small mouse she’d caught hours after waking and then waited for it’s pending death or it’s excited heart to continue beating in her cupped hands. When it did not die, she dipped her own hands into the cool waters and drank deep.

The sound of approaching horses brought her head up and her body tensed. “Not again,” she hissed and then turned to see several men making their way through the forest. Lisheeda spun around and headed toward the dark lord’s keep. What better place to hide than within his walls.

Bellatonia’s laughter followed her through the tangled brushes as she made her way back to her original enemy.

 

[brigid_fitch]

Rhonwhen

Well, this was certainly an interesting turn of events. Rhonwhen strode next to Slythe, easily matching his hurried pace, in a purposeful show of equality. Despite the fact that he was paying her, and therefore still technically her employer, she was determined to show any and all that he had no power over her. However, even she was taken by surprise by the the presence of this newcomer.

“Hello brother.”

Rhonwhen had heard rumors of Slythe's half-brother, Mochan, but never paid them much mind. She had had plenty of other things to concentrate on at the time, like retaining her sanity and finding egress from the Dark Lord's keep. Now here he was in the flesh.

And what flesh it was.

The mercenary only saw Slythe in her periphery, but could tell from how he now stood stock-still in the middle of his own throne room that he had been taken by surprise. However, Rhonwen was far more interested by the wiry-muscled figure before her, sitting on Slythe's throne. She found it difficult to take her eyes off of Mochan--such a stark contrast to his withered, scarred brother. She instantly recognized the smug look on Mochan's face--he was here for Slythe's seat and determined to take it. And before she could say or do anything, the brothers were at each other's throats. Slythe quickly drawing his staff as he ignited the magic it contained and launching himself at the more combat-ready Mochan. And the decision was as swift as it was inevitable, with Slythe's body crumpling to the floor, Mochan's blade dripping with foul blood.

Inside, Rhonwhen was seething. Just like that, Slythe was dead and not by her own hand! Mochan had stolen her prize; the only reason she had come back was for either revenge or riches and now, looking down at the Dark Lord's crumpled body, she had neither. She was about to speak up, present to Mochan her rightful rank and pay, when the man stood and barked his first orders.

“You may either side with me or against me. With me and our lands will prosper. We will defeat Morgaina as well as Pravus. We will refuel the land and cleanse the water. Find the little witch and bring her too me. Her magic is still useful to us, unless she too has abandoned my brother in lew of more exciting rewards.”

The little witch? Brita? Surely the frail thing couldn't have gotten far. Brita was utterly devoted to Slythe--she'd never leave him or the Keep. And if Mochan saw worth in the man--or woman--to retrieve her, so much the better. Not certain whether to be pleased or concerned that Mochan had made no notice of her, Rhonwhen thought it best to slip out of the throne room, along with the rest of the "search party" for Brita. With blood boiling from the murder of his brother and the usurping of his throne, now was not the time to approach him and remind him that she was General of the Army and getting a hefty paycheck for it. Such effrontery could too easily seen as a challenge to his authority and, if Mochan wanted to retain the throne, he had to be swift and merciless in his judgement in the very beginning.

No, better for her to rely on the strengths that had kept her alive all these years--her skills as a warrior, subterfuge, and cunning. Rhonwhen needed time to forumlate a new plan to secure her future, either here or with one of the other warlords. But for now, she'd find Brita & present her to Mochan. Better for her to prove her worth with action than with words. Brita had apparently found herself a nice little hidey-hole somewhere in the castle and Rhonwhen couldn't surpress a small smile. Today was full of surprises--she wouldn't have thought the mute to be so resourceful as to squirrel herself away somewhere right on the grounds. Again, no one knew this Keep as well as she, so a small girl with a creaky metal hand would be an easy thing to find...

 

[Babette_____]

Tharalon stirred restlessly after the first hour of sleep, it was then that the dreams of what she’d done came to her, magnifying themselves tenfold and making her cry out in despair. Her body shot up, suddenly awake; her eyes were wide with fright as she tried to comprehend her surroundings.

Fear ricocheted back and forth as she ran her hands over herself, trying to feel the heat that had burned her skin as well as the man she’d almost destroyed. The sound of shuffling brought her back to reality and she turned a pale face toward the man that had forced her hand. Immediately she shrunk back, tucking herself into the smallest bit of space her form could hide in.

Words were lost to her, so she said nothing until she spotted the drink and food, only then did she move from her spot and reach with a trembling hand for the refreshing, but somewhat stale tasting liquid. She drank it deep, avoiding her new Lord’s gaze. When she’d drunk her feel, she picked up a roll, bit into it and chewed, again in silence. She had much to think about and doing so in the presence of Pravus was something she could not do.

He was a mixture of fear and desire and she was not sure she knew which one scared her more. Then there was the power he had forced her to acknowledge. She had come close to killing a man today, simply because he had willed it. How had he forced her hand in such a way.

Tharalon thought about the man who lay on the ground outside. No one but she, or another gifted being, could detect his true state of life. Could she bring him back. . .she needed to try, once again, she would see how much power she had in her tiny fingers.

After she was finished eating she took a deep breath and faced Pravus for the first time.

“That is something I do not wish to do . . . often,” she whispered under her breath and then shuddered as the dream and the reality of what she had done mingled together.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

“A ruler hopes such demonstrations are rarely, if ever needed. But today was more then just that. I meet with our enemy today, and not only have we reinforced discipline among our own people, but given a demonstration of your power – something that will reach the ears of our foes.”

He brushed some hair from her face, and tucked it behind her ear. “Tharalon, the proven will to use your strength often can prevent the need to do so. In hopes, this will be true of our enemies. If not, then the next time you have to do something like this, it will be in defense of your life, or that of another.”

He stood up, “Eat up my precious witch. I would like you to ride with us to this meeting with Morgiana. No doubt her damned wizard will be there, and I do not wish to appear 'out gunned'.”

He walked to the door, and glanced over to her wardrobe, nodding toward it. “I had something nice delivered to you while you slept. A gown of deep blue, with pearls. I would love to see you in it.” And with that he left.

He was not half way down the hall before he was issuing orders to get his people ready to ride out an meet with the damned Lady Winter. Her truce seemed far too good to be true. Could she really be so scared by the Dark Lord to let go of her advantage over him?

 

[ZuesTheGod]

The sound of slurping and sucking seemed to fill the room. Mochan’s groans of pleasure mixed with them as did the hiss of women gasping for air. His mouth moved from one glistening pussy to another as he pleasured two slaves.

How many times had he watched these women spread themselves open for his brother? The countless times were immeasurable and now he was living the life. He sneered against the puffy lips of the dark skinned woman, lifted his face from her flesh and then moved over her.

The other female, moved over to slide her used cunt across the slave her Master was using. As Mochan drove his thick tool into the pleasure slave, the other one ground her hips against her face.

His hands held onto the breasts of the woman on top, twisted and tugged on them, until she was arching her back in pleasure. He grinned as he slammed deeper into the thick folds and felt his cock become locked in her heated core.

"My brother sired no bastard children. His seed useless, but mine," he gasped as he felt his balls draw up against him, "I have several already littering his keep."

The seed erupted from his dick, showering the walls of the slave girl. He watched as the one riding the woman, came and as her fluids flowed hot over the dark skinned girl’s, Mochan pulled his shaft from the first pussy, held the base, stemming the second eruption of life.

"Lay down," he ordered the other girl and then pushed his partially emptied tool into her soaked folds and finished laying the seeds of the future leaders of Itaea.

The sun streamed over him and his spent women. He smirked as the light showed the evidence of the bruises that his bites and rough play had left. He would not harm these two again, not until he learned if they carried his child or not.

Mochan rose from the bed, donned a robe and made his way from his chambers, tying a loose belt with a long blade securely fastened to its side.

"Any news on the Witch or the useless, yet deadly slave of my brother?" he asked a passing guard. When the response was given, Mochan frowned. "Double the coin for the Witch and a night of pleasure with the whore when she is found."

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

She watched from the branch of a high tree as the Dark Lord’s men circled below her. Lisheeda glanced around and felt the weight of her situation lift from her shoulders when she sighed the ghostly image of Bellatonia standing beside one of the Lord’s soldiers. She urged the image to grasp the deadly knife that hung at the man’s hip, but the woman did nothing, just stared back at her with a smile that spoke of insanity. Lisheeda stayed crouched, hugging the trunk and looking desperately for a way out, yet none came, so she was forced to wait as the men moved on.

When she felt it was safe, she shimmed down the tree and scurried to a dense growth of underbrush and bushes, there she pushed her way through to the center and beckoned her companion in with her.

“Little one, you are stronger than you think. Use your body to get you want you need. They are just men. Men will do anything for the right woman.”

Lisheeda rolled her eyes at the woman, but said nothing instead she took several minutes to coat herself in more dirt and mud. She hated being dirty, especially after having rid herself of the blood from her earlier attacks, just the night before. But even she was not ready to give her body to the devils of Itaea, though Bellatonia seemed to be more than willing to offer her up to them.

“Why do you tarry?”

“I will return during the night. I will make a place for myself in the village with the other women. Hide there, perhaps find a trusting soul and when I feel it is safe... I will flee again.”

“You believe you can blend with the others?”

Lisheeda ignored the woman’s laughter and pushed the woman away. She tried to not worry that it took more concentration to push Bellatonia out of her head than it ever had before.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

The air seemed filled with tension as Morgaina and Olam exited the tent. She said nothing to those that whispered behind upraised hands, only tossed them looks. Those were warnings enough. They made their way to the tent where the maps and several of her lead generals were gathered. Once inside she pointed out where they would station some of their men.

“We can not meet him with an armload of men. But he will also not meet us empty handed. All of you,” she pointed out to several of her guards, “will accompany us to this point. Upon which we will leave, Olam and myself and meet with Pravus. If there are any signs that he is going to double cross us, then you have leave to attack at will. Be sure though that he’s truly about to deceive us before you act. I do not wish to be dead because some fool has an itchy finger.”

She turned away and stopped short, aiming a hard gaze at one man in particular.

“The slave girl. . .she’s been dealt with?”

“The man you sent out with her, has not yet returned. I would assume he had a bit of sport with the whore, before dealing with her as you ordered.”

Morgaina frowned. She knew the girl’s death would not have been pleasant, and a part of her wished that she’d been able to handle it with less pain, but it was the way of life. Her gaze shifted back to Olam.

“Are you well?” she asked, still remembering how the girl’s proximity had affected him.

Would her death harm him too?

She waited for his reply before ordering the group to ready their horses and begin the trip to meet Pravus and his men.

 

[Tseranc]

Olam understood the depth of her inquiry, but could not verify the girls condition. “I am well, and ready to serve, Mistress Winter.” his very proper reply. Somehow, he felt as if the girl were still alive; not out of any call, or pull of the other woman, for she must be out of whatever range such effects on him could take place. But he had not felt anything at all, and from the dream, and his initial reaction to her bing harmed, he felt he would know, feel a loss, or something, where her life to end. But that was all just a guess, and so kept silent until asked.

He made sure he was ready to ride with her men before most of her officers were, never to be the one slowing her quest down. His thoughts went to Lord Pravus, and how the young brute might behave. He knew this meeting was critical, and his dreams of the falcon and wolf came to mind. No doubt now, Pravus was the falcon, and the blood hand, his symbol, meant his mark would be left on the land. Her land.

He remained focused as the group set out, determined to keep a watchful eye, and to be of some assistance to Morgaina, so that the scales tipped in her favor.

 

[Babette_____]

She eyed the new gown and found her fingers reaching out to touch the beautiful fabric. “This is for me?” she whispered to none but herself. “Why?” she wondered, “because of my gifts? Because I killed a man?” The thought of the beautiful gown donning her body made her smile as she recalled the many times she was shunned for not being dressed in a more becoming state.

Timidly she pulled her other clothes off, then slipped her self into the new one. A soft call for aid, brought a small woman to her side and she was assisted in closing the gown up and adjusting it to fit her bosom.

Tharalon stepped free of her temporary home and heard a small collective gasp. She blushed, and wondered again was it her gift they gasped at, the depth of her ability or the way she looked in her new dress. She made her way over to Pravus and stood behind him. Her fingers clutched themselves into fists as she waited for him to instruct her as well as those around them to go.

Curiosity over the wizard he’d spoken of did occupy her mind. What powers did this wizard have? Was he more powerful than she? Was Pravus scared of him? Her gaze shifted to the ‘dead’ man then shifted back to the Lord.

Again Tharalon found herself timidly moving away from him. Eventually she reached the body and bent down to whisper in his ear. One hand rested on his temple as she breathed out a whispered promise, “Your pain will cease come evening. I swear this to you.”

She then rose, her shoulders slumped in mock defeat. Soldiers and servants took several steps back to clear a path for her, as if they feared to share the very air she breathed. Once more she was behind the Lord that seemed to think he could control her power with the threat of words.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

The wind swept easily through camp. Morgaina and her men, as well as her mage made their way through the woods. Watchful eyes focused on the path in front of them as well as the trees above them.

She did not trust Pravus and after yesterday’s surprise attack from the Dark Lord, she did not trust the woods itself, or the waters they crossed.

Her eyes often sought those of her most trusted advisor and the man she knew she would claim as a permanent lover. There would be other men in her life, but none would hold a place where her mage held.

The realization struck hard at Morgaina and she fought the urge to order him back to safety. Weakness was something she could not show and yet when she was with him she felt as if she could be weak, even if for a short time.

Hours passed before they reached the edge of the meeting place. She ordered her men to scatter, hide and wait. She knew Pravus would have his own men out there somewhere and if they were as good as hers then some of their hiding spots could very well be the same.

Her orders would be followed. Her men would not strike out unless given the signal, then and only then would her men take the Lord’s soldiers lives into their hands.

Morgaina took a deep breath, nodded her head and set out with the agreed upon men at her side. They made their way to the center of the marked land and waited for the enemy to approach.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Lord Pravus watched his witch enter, everyone amazed at her appearance. But he just smiled and nodded as he issued last minute commands to get everyone ready to depart. He saw her inspect the her work on the dead man, but said nothing of it.

When she returned to him, he finally had a moment to address her, “You look truly stunning my dear. Queens would envy you.” The sifting of his men out the gates drew his attention back to the task at hand though. “And so speaking of queens, lets go meet the queen bitch of this land, and make out pact.” His voice obviously harsh.

He led her out to the stables, and explained that he wished her to ride near him at all times, to keep her eyes open, and if she saw any tricks being played by Morgaina's pet Olam, she was to 'out an end to it' quickly.

He took the agreed amount men, some extra soldiers having already 'wandered' into the general area hours ago. Scouts reported to him that his enemy had done the same. They road through the plains and into the the woods, finally coming to the agreed upon clearing. He ran every possibility through his head as they went, why was she offering this pact to begin with? Was she really so scared of the Dark Lord in the South as to side with him, or were those two already scheming against the Lord from the island who had come to upset the balance? Whatever the case, should they attack Slythe Zathu, and begin to crush him, Pravus would have to turn on her, before she did him. There was no mistaking how short term this contract would be.

He road up to shouting distance of Lady Winter, gesturing that both his hands were free of weapons, and then inched closer, calling out to her, “So good to see you Lady Winter, it's been years since last we saw one and other. Me just a soldier in another man's army, and you, a play thing of your father's. How interesting that we should meet again like this?”

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgaina watched Pravus approach. Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of the weapon she kept strapped to her side. Her gaze shifted to her mage as well as the other man that had accompanied them. Her face was set in an easy casual look, but her inner being was ready for whatever trickery the Lord dared to show her.

His words brought a small smirk to her lips as he referred to her and her father.

“It has been some time. I see you’ve added an inch or two to your stature. That probably helped ease the some of the tensions in your lack of...” she glanced down his form, “other attributes. The ladies of my father’s keep often spoke of... well, why bring up youthful failings,” her gaze shifted to the woman at Pravus’s side then back, “Dressing up the help I see. What a pretty filly you have there.”

She cleared her throat and spoke of the real reason behind their meeting.

“I offer this temporary truce so that we both may deal with a threat that we can agree is both annoying and bothersome to not only us, but the land itself. What good is our fighting each other... at this moment, when we have one foe that is destroying the very thing we both crave?”

“You are a fairly good leader and though I will attack you and your men after we defeat the Dark Lord, I will not slice you down till he falls.”

 

[ZuesTheGod]

Mochan’s eyes darted to the left, then right as he took in his surroundings. The men he had handpicked to fight with were covered in various nics. Blood spilled from their wounds, yet they still came after him. He knew they would. They were out to prove who was the best. There was no doubt in Mochan’s mind who would win the battle... he would, but who of the two would be the last man standing was the reason behind the game. That man would become his Commanding Officer. He would lead his people in battle, right beside the new Dark Lord.

The sound of blades ricochet about the training circle. Mochan watched money changing hands as he took his time concentrating on the stronger of the two. He’d trained with these men, an outcast that was no more than another body doing his brother’s work. Now though, things were different, he was the leader and so he poured all his strength, cunning and experience into each thrust. When the weaker of the two gave in and bowed out, Mochan continued to hammer away at the greater.

Soon that man too bowed down to the new Lord, but when he was granted permission to rise it was with a grin of achievement. Though Deveron had lost to Mochan, he’d gained the title and prestige of being the best to serve under him.

Mochan turned, and left the field, making his way to the castle. “Come Deveron,” he commanded, “it is time for me to show you some of the secret holes in the castle. Being a nothing to ones kin is sometimes beneficial.”

The new lord had grown up in this keep, he like all curious children had done a lot of hiding when they didn’t want to work or were fearing a beating. He would not show the Commander every nook and cranny, but there were no places within the keep that a child that’d lived his life in the shadows wouldn’t know about.

As he reached the steps of his keep, he felt the tug of a small hand. He looked down into the face of a man, a small man, whose body was frail and aged. “Saunke you still live?”

“Aye, Sire. There is evil afoot. The white bitch and the red hand meet.”

Mochan’s brows rose as did his smile. “Thank you Saunke, take a meal and your pleasures from my harem. Then return to your little cave in the forest.”

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus fought to shrug off her insults to his manhood, and his need to 'dress the help' – he;d begun slinging insults, and she proves his equal in that arena. But she also knew when to move on, and get down to business. Admirable.

He stepped his horse closer to her, showing trust, and his boldness – he had to give a visual order for his men to hold back as he met her. He response was in the low voice for only them to hear. “Why so short an alliance Lady Winter? Surely you've played your hand at attacking my strongholds here, but you lacked the ability to finish them off. Only then did you off this truce. No, my dear, you will have to offer better then that....”

He grinned, as he often did when he thought he found a weakness. “You're only hope in this battle would be for my forces to be reduced more greatly then your own, in out attack of the Dark slime to the south. Oddly enough, I might hope for the opposite. We would each be waiting for the other to strike, to find a weakness. It is no way to do battle. I should let them continue to pick away at you while I rebuild, and wait to finish off the victor.”

He backed his horse off, as if her were going to go, but then at the last stopped, as if an idea 'just' popped into his head. “You know, it occurs to me, that I have no heir to give your lands too, when old age finally claims me. And as I recall, you've no one by a deranged mother left in your family – odd how daggers and reduce the settings at a dinner table, isn't it? You know, it's been a very long time since the world had a King....or queen....”

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgaina’s eyes slanted as she listened to Pravus and then she found herself laughing. His suggestion that they become more than just a team of warriors, but in fact a more intimate alliance had her filling the air with a sound that was often foreign to her and her men. Tears sprang up in her eyes as she outwardly laughed at the man in front of her.

By the time she’d recovered, she looked at Pravus again and saw his expression.

“You are serious?”

A soft chuckle fell as she wiped at the tears.

“Give you an heir? And then what... you slaughter me in my sleep? Or do you keep me around for a stand by son or daughter?”

Her hand fell to the hilt of her sword.

“Or perhaps I wed you and deal with you before you strike me down. It is I that would carry the child for months. You would no longer be needed would you?”

Morgaina lifted one brow and waited.

“If we wed then your men become mine, and mine yours. Implant me with your child and you can be quickly removed... can’t you? Are you sure you don’t want to rethink your plan? For us to join forces is wiser than for you to allow...”

A sharp whistle interrupted her words. Morgaina turned and shook her head, a silent signal for one of her commanders to return to the forest. She watched him leave, lifting a hand to ask for Pravus to hold. She knew he was curious as to what was happening and would be readying himself for some sort of distrustful act. The man moved into the edge of the woods, dismounted and walked to another that had appeared. A few words were passed before the warrior returned to Morgaina’s side. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

She paled slightly and then turned to Pravus.

“It seems our enemy is dead and his bastard brother takes his place. We seem to have a new enemy that we know little about. A truce of a different sort perhaps is needed. We both need to learn more about this new Lord... Mochan. Care to share spys and whatever information they gather? Or shall I just give word to deal with you, my known enemy while your numbers are down?”

 

[One Eyed Jack]

He took her laughter, and her mocking tone with a straight face. He was not happy with this woman, who he felt he had made a very generous offer to. The nerve of that wench!

But then she got a message, and he waited, silently, with daggers in his eyes, for the news to be delivered. The fact she shared the news with him was as shocking as the news itself.

“A new Lord of the Dark – one who managed to do what we could not, killing the previous one.” he stroked his chin, in thought, as she finished with an offer and a threat. “Your numbers seem not to serve you as well as you think, so keep your threats for the poor bastards you bed.” Every muscle in him wanted to strike her down then and there, and be done with it. But both knew that any attempt by either of them would result in leaderless soldiers being the only survivors.

“My offer stands. As my Queen, I'd have no need to see you dead, a child needs its mother. My place is always in battle, destroying my foe – your armies would need a general, and King, would they not? Come and be reasonable woman. We both fight to unite the land, and both hate what's been done in the generations past. We don't have to like each other to be mutually beneficial – or should we burn all we build once other threats are dealt with?”

It was his turn to mock the woman. It was a risk dealing with her, more because she was an emotional creature, then a poor ally.