"The League of Creatures" (closed)

[Alice2015]

Heather, Rachel, and (introducing) Caroline:

Sitting with the Giant and sharing the goat he was devouring like a man who hadn't eaten in months, Heather listened to Marcus as he dealt with the soldiers, the workers, and even the whores. She didn't interfere; he had everything well in hand, and she agreed with the terms he offered.

“Find another profession," he told the camp whores. Again, he offered terms, ending, "...you’ll do more than lay on your backs. You'll cook, clean, gather wood and skin animals for food. Everyone works."

"What if we like working on our backs?" one of the whores spoke up. When Heather turned to face her, the woman continued, "I made a good living on my back ... or my knees ... at least until they brought me here."

"What is your name?" Heather asked.

"Caroline," the whore said. Without the tone of respect to which Heather was accustomed, Caroline asked, "What's yours, cookie?"

Rachel was standing nearby and with two quick steps was close enough to slash her hand through the air, connecting the back of it with the whore's face. Caroline went down, recovered, and stared up with an expression of anger ... that slowly mutated into a wide smile, followed by a laugh. "I take it cookie isn't her name?"

Rachel growled, "You will address her as M'Lady, you filthy whore."

Heather had been nearing slowly and now put a hand on Rachel's forearm, wishing to calm her. Another step forward and Heather offered the downed woman a hand. "My name is Heather. You should probably refer to me as Lady Heather or M'Lady when in the company of others."

Caroline looked at the offered hand a moment, then took it. Heather pulled the woman to her feet.

"If you and any of your ... girls wish to continue earning your coin providing pleasure to others in our Party, I will not stop you," Heather told her. "But just as Sergeant Stormbow has rules and limitations for the men, I will have them for the women. If you think you can abide by them--"

"We can," Caroline interrupted without feeling the need to hear the rules and limitations. Then, seeing a glare from the huntress, she nodded respectfully and added, "M'Lady."

Heather smiled, saying, "Good. Now ... gather your things." She glanced to Marcus, remembering how she'd demanded on hauling her own possessions. To Caroline she said, "We each carry our own things, so ... prioritize."

Heather looked to Marcus again, after which he asked the others, “Any questions?”

"What about the village?" a woman spoke up. When others looked her way, she clarified, "Some of us have family there."

A man spoke up, "Viscount Ruhn has men ... soldiers ... maybe twenty. How do we get our families to safety?"

Heather looked to Marcus without having to think, asking suggestively, "How do we get their families out ... Sergeant?"

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:
It was a good thing Rachel was faster, Marcus had already taken a step and was ready to clock the whore in her mouth when Rachel stepped in and saved her a broken jaw. He wished she’d stop telling people who she was though. But that was a discussion for later.

“Alright, you want your families out and safe? Then you fight with us. You don’t fight you get left behind.” And with that everyone that didn’t want to join was ushered into the giants cell and the grate was lowered on top of them. And logs, rocks and peat was lowered onto the edges of the cage. He’d made sure they wouldn’t drown of course. But they’d had no concern for the giants comfort, so fuck their comfort.

“I nee a layout of the town, and guard posts as well as any routes the guards walk. As before no killing, unless absolutely needed. Mercy is better then revenge.” Puzzled glanced looked at him from a dozen faces. “If you kill a guard then his family and friends want revenge. But if you give him mercy and just knock him out or restrain him he’s just embarrassed. And just might join us. Depends on how bad off the city is.”

Looking over the drawing in the dirt he nodded. “Barracks or do they live in the town/”

“Town, some have family.” One of he guards told him. “Eight on duty at night. Sixteen during the day.”

“Plus the ones in the camp…” Marcus said to himself. “Descent size group. Where are your families at?” When everyone started pointing out houses across the town Marcus sighed deeply.

Looking at Heather he said “We have to take the whole town. Not just a section to get families out.”

“Where’s the Barons’ residence?” That got a hard finger in the dirt. “Ok, Bowmen get up the walls. And take overwatch. Anyone fighting follow me.”

 

[Alice2015]

Caroline and Heather:

“I need a layout of the town," Marcus said.

"I can help with that," Caroline said without hesitation. She caught the look Marcus gave her and knew he didn't appreciate her much. She explained, exaggerating a bit, "I know every bed in the village thanks to my job. See? I'm already doing more than simply laying on my back."

She snatched a stick off the ground and began drawing. Caroline had loved drawing as a child; for years her mother had chastised her repeatedly for having hands covered in charcoal dust from her continuous drawing. When she finished, the drawing on the ground could almost have been used by city planners to lay out roads, storm drains, and walls.

Marcus asked about barracks, about where families could be found, about the number of guards who'd be on duty, and more. Caroline had a lot of the answers, and when she didn't others filled in.

“Where’s the Barons’ residence?”

"Right there," a male voice said, gaining attention from the others standing or kneeling around the map. One of the camp guards -- who'd immediately surrendered when the attack began -- held his hands up before him to ensure that the Sergeant they called Marcus knew he wasn't a danger. Stepping forward, he sunk a finger into the dirt on the edge of town.

"Right here," he said as he mounded up some dirt over the finger hole. "It sits atop a small hill and is surrounded by a wooden stockade. There is only one entrance in, and it's guarded from ground level, at the door, and by men on the roof, armed with bows, spears, stones, and oil that is kept hot at all times.

"There is an old, abandoned wall here," the man continued, drawing a line that paralleled the stockade he'd already drawn. "I don't know what it was for in days past, but from atop it, you can look right down into the bailey, if you want to call it that. It's mostly just a muddy yard."

“Ok, Bowmen get up the walls," Marcus ordered. "And take overwatch. Anyone fighting follow me.”
"What about the stockade?"

The others turned to find that Heather had walked over to listen to Marcus's planning. She continued, "It sounds to me like you could use a hand getting through the stockade."

She glanced over her shoulder at the Giant as he bit down on the goat skull, crushed it and the brains within it into crunchy mush, chewed, and swallowed. He met Heather's gaze and smiled, happy about his change in circumstances. Looking back to Marcus, Heather said, "Giants are historically non-violent Creatures. However, if I asked him nicely, I think I could get him to punch a hole through that wall."

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:
“Keep him back until we need him.” Marcus replied. The Giant had already gone through enough, he needed rest and food. A lot of both.

Moving into the darkness the men took the main gate in a few moments, only a single guard during the night watch, the rest patrolling throughout the town.

Gesturing Marcus sent men forth, two with each command, dressed in the local armor his men blended easily. Assumed to be the new relief until it was to late. With the patrols bound and gagged and left under guard at the main gate, Marcus and his men moved to the Inner Keep.

Once there he pounded on the gate to get attention. When the guardsman inside asked, “Who goes, there?”

He replied, The Giant is fucking free. He broke the chains and is loose from the pen. We need help. And the for the Sake of the Ever-living Gods don’t wake the Baron, he’ll have everyone on pikes. Hurry man, open the gate we need more men!”

As the bar lifted Marcus pushed inside and looked around, “Damn the darkness, where’s the barracks?” he asked.

The Guard turned, beginning to gesture when he realized he didn’t recognize Marcus by face or voice. Turning back he took the fist his neck instead of the bac of his head. Gurgling under the crunch of his throat his eyes went wide as he began to choke on his own blood.

There was no saving the man, and Marcus already had to do penance for the murder so he grabbed the man’s helmet and twisted it hard and sharp. Cicada’s rasped in the night, a cat meowed and screamed as it was mated, a rat run from under piles of horse hay. And Marcus lowered the guard to the ground. He took no joy in the death, but the needs of the Lady out weighed the needs of the Baron.

Gesturing he motioned his men forwards, sending the workers to fetch their families and make a choice. Stay or leave.

Moving into the central keep he could hear every footstep his men made. Every heartbeat pounded in his ears. Every sound was a thousand times louder. He’d listened to the stories and tactics of the older Knights, but nothing prepared him for this. The stench of shit and piss filled the air the closer they got to the barracks. The chaff of hay tickled his nose even as piss burned his eyes.

Fang moved to him, sliding between hi legs, his bulk pressing against both of Marcus’ inner thighs. He was getting big, soon he’d be to big for this stance, they’d have to train new ones, starting on the morrow. Part of him wanted the Baron to fight back. To give him righteous justice to slay the man in battle for the squalid conditions of the town. This nasty sticking mess of a town was vile and disgusting. It was barely more than a keep and prisoners trapped in a stone wall. The streets were more dog, horse, goat, cow, chicken, rat, and human shit than they were mud.

He’d seriously considered having the giant bash a hole through the wall, but the noise of it would have brought the Nine Hells upon their heads. Using a boot blade he slipped the door latch up and free, a minute passed as he opened the door far enough for his men to move within.

Stealthy as Church mice the men moved, until some clout stubbed his shin, shifted a bed, and grunted in surprised pain.

Well, all plans fall to hell in the face of the enemy! And his lucky was bound to run out sometime. He just wished it would have been tomorrow when he was in bed with Brittant. But then she’d avoided him the last few nights. Perhaps she was tired of him.

Lurching back, he narrowly escaped gaining a second smile. Muse and think later. Pulling his blade he was in motion. Whispering Butterfly became Heron takes the Kingfisher. He wasn’t even conscious of the moves as he moved through the Void of inner peace. He was ready to die this night, as long as he ended the Baron’s reign on this town. He understood what the Sergeant at Arms meant now. The Void. Conscious thought stopped and you became one with the blade. Crouching Tiger became the Rising Dragon.

Men fell in the battle faster than he could count, his own men standing clear as his blade flickered in the light of lanterns hung from scones mounted on the bare walls. Fangs twisted his head and ripped out the throat of the last man. Looking across the carnage Marcus said a silent prayer for the souls of the men slain this night.

Fuck the luck had run dry in a bad way. Wiping sweat from his face it came away red and smeared. Was he cut? Or was I the blood of the soldiers he’d slain? He’d find out later, or he’d be dead and it wouldn’t matter.

Moving from the barracks he pulled all the men still standing with him, the injured would remain here and scavenge the barracks. Slogging through the shit-mud the group approached the last gate, the Barons residence was beyond that door.

Puling the handle he knew it was to damned good. It was locked or barred from the inside and the damned thing was solid wood.

Well, it was time to summon the Giant. Pulling one of his men close he whispered in his ear and sent him on his way. He took longer than he wanted but soon enough the giant was moving through the town and women and children were screaming in fear. Not that he blamed them, he’d damned near pissed himself when the Giant had pushed his gate and stood upright. Even standing in deep water, in a hole in the ground, the beast had been taller than a man on a horse.

Lumbering into the courtyard he looked around before pointing at one of the Marcus’ men. “Funny man,” he said before he belched. The stench of it rolled Marcus’ stomach and made him want to be sick. Now that was a weapon to be harnessed, if only he could do it on command and through a window slit.

Slapping his hand on the door Marcus called out. “Open. Open please.”

The ground shook as the Giant lumbered forwards, grasping at the sides he found no grip, until his fingers punched through the small barred window and gripped it, straining he pulled and ripped the door free of it’s mounting. That was going to be an expensive repair, for someone other than him.

Moving inwards the men spread out as Marcus took the stairs. A couple men came down the stairs side by side like that was a better strategy than one at a time. Running u the last few steps he pushed himself into the space between man and wall, and shoved hard. The furthest man went off the steps and broke his leg when he hit the floor below, and then cracked his skull and didn’t have time to scream in pain.

The man still standing gave Marcus a nasty broken tooth grin, before a dagger buried itself in his jaw, driving upwards and into his brain. Pushing him off the stairs Marcus pulled his blade free and shoved it back into place.

And then he took one step at a time. The baron was at the top, his blade lowered and at the ready. This man had fought before. His sigil had been painted on his shield, like he was boasting that Marcus hadn’t made his mark on the world yet. Which was truth. Marcus was a nobody.

“Surrender.. and you’ll live. I have no desire to slay you.”

“To bad, cause I’m going to butcher you, boy.”

Mounting he steps Marcus sized the man up. His fingers were pudgy, the armor tight, the shield low. He’d fought in the past, but had gotten fat and lazy. When he got to the top the Baron rushed him, his blade flailing wildly, in panic.

Rushing wind flowed into Creeping the Wall. His blade flicked threatening the Baron’s face, driving him back. And blade met blade. The baron was fat and slow but he was strong like a blacksmith. Steel rang on steel as they fought in the narrow hall above the stairs. Hammer blows rang against his sword as he struck sting cuts against the baron. Each was minor by itself, but over time the Baron was cut a dozen times, inner elbow, behind the knee. The backs of his hands. Marcus cut the straps of the Baron’s armor and continued the cuts. Thighs and calves, upper arms and belly.

He watched as the Baron fought against his own entangling armor, fighting to get free of it. “Last chance, fat man.”

“You fight well,” The Baron panted. ‘I’ll pay you double what you’re making now if you join my forces. Triple, and a Command of men.”

“I don’t fight for money, or fame. I fight for honor. And I already Command men.”

Lunging forwards the Baron threw his shield at Marcus and swept wide and hard with his blade. Marcus deflected the shield with his arm and felt it go numb as it struck hard, The wide swing was a mistake as Marcus stepped into the Baron’s face, his sword piercing his front and out his back. “I’m sorry for you,” Marcus whispered before stepping back and pulling his blade free.

Guards moved past him into the upper chambers and up into the top of the tower. When they came back down they reported the archers and oil men were dead. Arrows had taken them. Climbing the steps and the ladder he grabbed two torches and crossed his arm in the dark, then dropped them back into their fire and made his way back down to the baron’s rooms. The adrenaline flowed from his body faster than he could have pissed so he sat in a chair at the Baron’s table and rested a moment. Between the strain of his arms and legs, and the cuts he’d taken this night blending with his sweat his entire body burned or sung like a hornet’s nest.

 

[Alice2015]

Heather:

“Keep him back until we need him,” Marcus said with regard to the Giant.

Heather only nodded her agreement; the massive Creature could do some serious damage to property or People if he'd wanted, but violence -- other than direct defensive action of themselves or their kin -- simply wasn't in the nature of Giants.

As Marcus led his forces and the camp workers who were concerned about their families toward town, Heather stayed behind with the Giant and the handful of Guards ordered to keep an eye over those who'd lost the first fight. She asked the Giant a series of questions, wishing to show interest in his life: how old was he, how long had he been a laborer at the camp, how had they enslaved him, from where had he come, did he have family back home, and more.

She learned a great deal from him and could have learned more if she hadn't been pulled away from the conversation when a Guard told her, "The fight has begun, M'Lady."

She moved to the top of the hillock to look down on the village. Actually, it could probably have been called a town due to the presence of a stone wall. But as she would learn, the stone wall had been destroyed decades earlier and only stood today in a few places.

The Viscount's Keep had been surrounded by the wood stockade to keep the rabble out, and they would learn from some of the villagers that plans had been in the works to rebuild the original wall for the protection of not just the Keep but the entire community. But that hadn't happened yet.

As she stood there wondering just what the hell was happening down there, a Guardsman on one of the horses confiscated from the peat harvesting camp came riding up in a hurry, skidding his mount to a stop, and flying off with great acrobatic skill. He hurried up to Heather, bowed his head in respect, then said, "Sergeant Stormbow would like to borrow your Giant, M'Lady ... if you don't mind?"

Knowing that the Creature wouldn't fight, she asked a sharp, "For what?"

"The gate, M'Lady," the man said. "We need to get through the Keep's gate."

Heather turned to the Giant, telling him, "I would never encourage you to engage in physical combat--" Big words, she chastised herself, correcting, "I will not ask you to fight. But ... if I asked you to break down a door...?"

The Giant considered the question a moment, then smiled wild, his big teeth reflecting the full moon's illumination. He asked, "Break down bad man's door?"

"Yes, bad man's door," Heather confirmed.

The Giant straightened up, seemingly increasing his height another two feet, before surging forward down the hill without another word...

Rachel:

Finding a piece of the stone wall that looked toward the Keep's main gate, the huntress from Little Gull Rock stationed herself and waited for action. She heard Marcus telling some bull crap story to the gate guards and found herself wanting to laugh. During her life, she'd known her share of naive and/or ignorant soldiers and Guardsmen, so it didn't surprise her that the pair didn't hesitate to open the gate to the enemy.

The next couple of minutes seemed to last forever as Rachel held an arrow at half tension against the bow string. Marcus and his men were taking the Viscount's men by total surprise, so much so that she began to think she wouldn't again be drawing blood with her own missiles this night.

Then suddenly, she saw a pair of Guardsmen running through the night directly toward the gate through which Marcus and most of his men had already passed. She took a moment to reassure herself that the pair were in fact enemy warriors, then drew her bowstring back and loosed the first arrow. Before it even struck, her second one was already in the air. Both men fell to the ground, their torsos pierced.

She would get off two more shots before leaping down from the half-tall wall and rushing the gate, calling the other archers and reserve Guardsmen to follow. Once inside the gate, she found there wasn't much to be done; Marcus and his men had already taken out most of the Viscount's protectors.

That didn't mean that there wasn't activity in every direction, though. The peat camp workers -- slaves, for the most part -- had hurriedly spread out across the village to reconnect with family that in some cases they hadn't seen in one, two, even three moons. When she saw many of the women, children, and older men coming out of their homes, she hollered to them to return to their houses for safety sakes.

Then, suddenly, the night became very quiet. Rachel thought that perhaps the battle was over and Marcus's force had prevailed. But slinking around in the darkness, she discovered him and many of his men crouching silently at the gate to the Keep. She went to him, asking, "What's wrong...? What's happening?"

Her answer came in the form of heavy footfalls coming from beyond and then through the village's gate. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the 10 foot tall, 5 foot across Giant bounding through the moonlit community ... grinning wide like a child who'd just discovered a bush full of sugar berries.

The Creature stopped near Marcus, received his specific orders, and ripped the gate right off its steel hinges, tossing it aside like it was made of straw. His job done, the Giant stepped back out of the way, comically waving to Marcus as the Sergeant led his forces forward.

Caroline:

The whore who'd draw the map that had so greatly helped Marcus understand the village's layout had been amongst the peat camp workers who'd followed the Quest warriors down the hill. Unlike the others who hurried off toward their families' homes, Caroline followed Marcus and his fighters through the gap where the Keep's gate had once been.

Inside the small stone castle's bailey, she ensured that the way was clear before her and rushed for the stables. She pushed the door open to the tack room and suddenly found herself face to face with one of the Viscount's Guardsmen; the man had a short sword in one hand and a fiery torch in the other.

"They're attacking the Keep!" she told him with feigned fear.

She was hoping that the man would run past her to save his Noble Lord, but he remained right where he was. Reaching a hand up to her bosom, Caroline pulled her blouse down to expose her young, firm, bountiful bosom ... then, as his eyes were wide and filled by the wondrous view, she lifted a knee, reached under her dress, pulled a blade from the sheath on her thigh, and buried it deep into his neck.

The man stumbled back, dropping both his blade and his torch as his hands grasped at his blood-spurting neck. Caroline snatched up the torch, stomped out the little fire that had begun in the scattered straw, then waited for the man to go silent and still, which took longer than she'd expected.

"Ellie!" Caroline called out. "Ellie! Where are you? Are you here?"

A moment later, a young female voice cried out from the back shadows, "Caroline! I'm here! Here!"

Eleanor ran out of the darkness toward the light of the torch, throwing her arms around her older sister. They exchanged greetings and words of concern for each other, each reassuring the other that she was fine. Ellie asked, "How is it that you are here? I thought--"

"No time for that now," Caroline told her sibling. "We have to get you out of here."

The two checked to ensure that the coast was clear, then ran for the gap in the wall and out into the village...

(Part one of two.)

 

[Alice2015]

Heather again:

No sooner had the Giant begun running down the hill toward the village then Heather threw herself up onto the back of one of the horses taken from the Viscount's men. Without saddle or blanket and holding the animal's mane as a bridle, she kicked the animal's sides, sending it forward into the night. Without a way to steer the animal, Heather could only hope that it would understand that it was to head down to the city from which its periodic feedings of grain likely originated.

And sure enough, Heather's mount took her through the decrepit village wall, even heading toward the Keep's wood stockade, beyond which were the stables and the treasured grain. She dismounted with the same skill as had the messenger earlier and set to searching for Marcus. It was pretty obvious that he had to be in the Keep, looking for the village's Noble Lord, so that was the way she went.

One of Sir Herbert's Sergeants caught sight of Heather and -- after first stopping her -- organized a small bodyguard contingent for her. He explained, "If I let you get killed, M'Lady, Sergeant Stormbow will cut off my balls and feed them to me ... raw and without sauce."

By the time her protection team got her inside the Keep, the battle inside was done; the Baron -- easily identifiable by his elegant dress -- was laying halfway down a staircase, his body and the steps under him covered in blood. Heather asked with great concern where she could find Marcus, fearful that she would find him in a state similar to that of the dead Noble. No one knew where the leader of the fight was, so Heather simply headed upstairs searching for him, directing her escorts to search every room upon which they came.

Finally, at an already opened door, Heather found Marcus sitting casually in a chair in what she would quickly understand was the Baron's bed chamber. She hesitated before approaching him, called to him to ensure he didn't react violently out of instinct, then moved forward to look him over.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, clarifying her inquiry, "Is any of this blood your own, Sergeant?"

Being careful not to startle him, Heather checked his extremities and torso for injuries, finding nothing worse than some bruises and superficial cuts. She smiled to him, saying, "You'll live ... which will make Brittany very happy indeed."

One of Sir Herbert's Sergeants arrived to announce officially that the Keep, bailey, and village as a whole was under their control. "I've corraled the Viscount's surviving Guards and have them under watch. The villagers have been ordered to remain in their homes until sunrise."

He looked to Marcus, smiled, and said, "Congratulations, Sergeant. You took the village and keep at the loss of only three men."

Heather's stomach rolled at that fact; it was a light casualty rate, but she would have preferred to have heard the man say there had been no losses at all.

The Sergeant departed, and Heather retrieved a cloth, bowl, and pitcher of water with the intention of cleaning Marcus's wounds, but she stopped when she heard a sound she hadn't expected: a woman's soft cry of fear. Stepping behind Marcus, she called out, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

A young, petite woman stepped slowly out from behind the drapes of the Viscount's four-poster bed. She was trembling in fear and dropped to her knees, speaking in Elvish! Heather stared at the Elf with wide eyes, her mouth open. She couldn't understand the Elf's words, of course -- Elvish was one of the most difficult languages for People to learn -- but it seemed obvious that the Creature was begging for her life.

"No one is going to hurt you," Heather told her, offering her hands out in a gesture of peace. The Elf looked to Marcus with his bloodied clothes and skin and bladed weapons. Heather did her best to indicate that Marcus was not a danger to her, then stepped a bit closer, repeating, "No one if going to hurt you."

She gestured for the Elf to rise to her feet, reaching out to help. The Creature hesitantly took the offered hands, rising. Heather tapped the fingers of one hand to her bosom, saying, "Heather ... my name is Heather." Looking to her Bodyguard, she informed the Elf, "Marcus. His name is Marcus." Again gesturing, she repeated, "Heather ... Marcus."

The Elf looked between the two of them a moment, then mimicked Heather's gesture to her own bosom and said, "Pria."

"Pria," Heather repeated, smiling as she said, "That is a pretty name ... Pria."

Another Guard arrived to make a report, then departed. Pria was still looking nervous when suddenly her eyes opened wide and her mouth fell open, much as Heather's had earlier. She began spouting Elvish excitedly, then after almost a full minute of incomprehensible gibberish, she reached into a small pocket of the leather and woolen skirt she wore, removed a coin, and offered it out to the Lady before her.

Heather took the coin, turned it over a couple of times as she examined it, then -- with her eyes glazing over with tears -- she offered it out for Marcus to examine. After a moment, she pointed to the side of the coin that featured a woman's profile and explained her tears and the Elf's excitement: "It's me."

The silver coin had been struck to commemorate Heather's -- or more accurately Princess Allison's -- rise to the title of Heir Apparent; her last living older sibling had died of the fever, leaving her as the heir to the Frenkish Empire. Heather looked to the Elf again, and tapping a finger to her chest while pointing the index of the other finger toward the coin, she said, "That is me ... Princess Allison."

The Elf, apparently more than aware, repeated in her heavy accent, "Princess Allison." Then, surprising Heather as she couldn't have expected to be, the Elf said in her best People, "You save us ... yes?"

Heather smiled, feeling her eyes water again. She reached her hands out to the Elf, who took them again. She confirmed, "Yes ... I'm going to save you."

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:
Sitting in the chair Marcus said “Twelve men have died this evening. Nine by my blade and three to my command.” He spoke mostly to himself, burning into his head the stain on his soul. Taking a life was not his right. He owed a great deal of penance for his sins.

Listening as the Lady spoke with the Elf his eyes slid across the girl's form. Her full breasts told him she was of age even if she stood barely 2/3’s his height. At least they’d managed to save another of the old folk.

He’d learned much at the Maester’s table in the hall of the Order, but knowledge of the Old Folk hadn’t been in those lessons. Of course he’d heard tales and rumours of the old folk. Most of them a mother’s stories to make children obey. Eat your food or a giant will eat you. Stay out late past the fall of night and the elves will snatch you away to their invisible kingdoms. Wander from town and the pixies will slay you with poisoned darts that will make you sick and rot from the inside. Merfolk drown evil, or careless, sailors. If you play in a cave the Minotaur will eat you.

Night hags wander streets and eat the eyes of bad children, or any number of other afflictions. He’d seen a boy with a twisted leg shunned from the town because he was ‘evil and a night hag had marked him’. Primitive people didn’t understand birth defects, but the Order had taken the boy in and sent him to another town, he was a Maester now. Low of rank but sharp of mind.

He Order hadn’t filled his head with nonsense or bullshit stories, but he’d heard them growing up none-the-less. He’d woken up many a night as a child screaming that a werewolf was coming for him. Orphans became werewolves, they had no parent’s love to protect them from the night beasts. He’d heard that one many times. Adults and children alike had taunted him. His mother wasn’t dead, she’d abandoned him because he was a foul night beast. His mother feared what he would become because his soul was corrupt and lost to the Light. His father was a night beast, and so was he. He wasn’t an orphan; he was a bastard of diseased blood. The order had butchered his foul family and was waiting for signs of darkness in his soul before they would slit his throat in the night as he slept.

So many horror stories, he’d heard that the Master of the Temple had had him taken to another town, Lady Heather’s town. It was technically his third. The place of his birth. The town of his torment. And then Little Gull Rock. The town of his rebirth.

His body ached from the fighting, but he had no time to lollygag around and be weak. There was more to be done this night. He’d go to the Chapel and pray, but this place didn’t even have one. Apparently, Baron’s, or at least this Baron, prayed to Goldar the Lord of Prosperity more than they prayed to Donblas the Lord of Light.

Well, the Baron was standing before his god(s) now, and more than likely his men were with him. Thirteen he’d killed, he’d forgotten the Baron. Nine in the Barracks, Three of his own, and the Baron. Perhaps he was a night beast, the darkness tainting his soul, how long until he ripped apart his own men?

Pushing himself to his feet he shook off stupid thoughts. He was no night beast no matter what old lonely wives said about him. He was a man, a servant f the Order of the Shining Path. A warrior of the Light. Yes he’d taken lives this night. And he’d stand before Donblas with that stain on his soul and face his judgment with Humility.

"Yes ... I'm going to save you." he heard her say. Yes they were coming to save all of the Old Ones.

“What are you Orders, Mi Lady?” he asked. Would they take everything? Or leave it for the population? Execute the guards? Let them free to report the fate of the town? No matter what they did, the Barons would hear of it soon enough, and if they hadn’t know Princess Allison was back before, they would very very soon.

At the very least they would know someone was starting a rising up, a rebellion, against their way of doing things. And that would not sit well with The Barons, that wouldn’t sit well at all.

Stepping into the hall he gave relayed Lady Heather’s commands and gave a few of his own. Collect all books and scrolls. Find the Maester of this town, if they had one. Wounded needed to be tended to, his own and the Baron’s.

Several asked when they’d be allowed to ‘enjoy the company of a female’. When everything else was done was his reply. He wasn’t fond of whores. But then he’d never had to pay for an attractive girl to spread her legs or to kiss his cock.

He had nothing against them, everyone needed a roof and food, even men could be whores – selling their bodies to chop wood or to dig a trench. It was all the same. He’d even heard of men that bedded other men. But he was sure that was as true as the night beast that drank the blood of children, and adulterer’s, and made them sick, sometimes unto death.

 

[Alice2015]

“What are you Orders, Mi Lady?” Marcus asked Heather after he handed the coin back to her.

Heather was still overwhelmed by the Elf and her apparent knowledge of Princess Allison. What did it all mean? What story had the Elf been told about her? This revelation was simply mind blowing!

And yet, Heather remembered that two battles had occurred tonight and that she had things to do with regards to them.

Looking around the room, she began with, "Have the Keep thoroughly searched and the staff interrogated. If the Viscount had family ... a wife, children ... I want them found and detained. They will be a danger to us.

"Tend to the injured. We have a Healer amongst our people back at our camp. Send a rider for him and check the town for a healer of their own."

Again, the news on this topic was good as there was already a Healer -- her name they would learn was Della -- tending to the injured just outside the Keep's walls.

Heather's attention shifted to the bed chamber's door as Rachel entered, first expressing her relief at seeing Heather safe, then exclaiming in surprise, "My Gods! Is that ... is that an Elf?"

"It is," Heather responded, laughing. She gently took Pria's hands and guided her to the huntress. She did her best to explain to both women that Rachel was going to protect the Elf. Rachel understood Heather's words, of course, and Pria seemed to understand Heather's tone, gestures, and meaning. "Find somewhere else for her to be at this time. I think..."

She hesitated, looking for a way to say what she believed to be the reason the beautiful young Creature was in the Viscount's bed chamber at night. Rachel understood, though, quickly filling in, "I'll find a place, M'Lady."

Heather returned her attention to Marcus, instructing him to keep an eye out for the Viscount's treasury. "Gather the gold, the silver ... jewels and gemstones ... anything easily transportable. The village surely has a forge, yes...? We can melt down the finery for ease of transport, yes?

"Anything else we let the Villagers pillage," she instructed, quickly clarifying, "but not tonight. I want the Keep secured for our people tonight ... a place to rest and recuperate.

"And bring up the rest of the Quest Party from the camp over the hill, please, Sergeant," Heather said, smiling and adding, "Marcus." Her smile widened again as she finished, "There's one person amongst them that I am sure will want to know that you are safe."

After Marcus's departure, Heather spent a few minutes surveying the Viscount's bed chamber and considering the man who'd slept here. He'd had one of the lowest of Noble titles: in order from least powerful to most powerful were Knight, Lord, Viscount, Earl, Duke, and Baron. And then, of course, you had the Royalty: Prince or Princess, King or Queen, and Emperor or Empress, the latter of which the World hadn't yet seen but -- if things went Heather's way -- they one day would.

Despite his lowly title, the Viscount's bed chamber revealed the wealth he possessed -- at least in relationship to the people over whom he had power. The valuables and finery in this room alone if sold at auction or the marketplace of a decently sized town could buy enough food to feed the Village for a year. And that was exactly what was going to happen with it all, Heather decided.

She headed downstairs and outside. Marcus's men were still rounding up the wounded, penning up the Viscount's surviving men, and more. A hog from the Viscount's pens had been killed just minutes earlier was being lifted on heavy line for slaughter. Other men were stoking a fire pit to cook the beast.

A pair of warriors passing by without noticing Heather were asking when they were going to get the chance to enjoy the company of a female. Heather couldn't help but smile ... then blush. She understood carnal needs. After all, she suffered them herself. That thought brought Brittany to Heather's mind. It had been a couple of days since Heather's servant had served her in that very special way. Something about this night made Heather yearn horribly for her best friend's touch.

Spotting Marcus nearby, Heather reminded herself that he, too, partook of her Handmaid's special skills. With Brittany's flower in bloom, though, Marcus's cock hadn't been seeing any activity with his new lover. Heather smiled, recalling what Brittany could do with her fingers and mouth. Marcus would find satisfaction soon enough, even if it wasn't found deep inside the young woman's pussy.

"Heather!" a female voice called out in the night, followed quickly by, "Lady Heather! M'Lady!"

Brittany rushed across the muddy bailey to throw her arms around Heather's torso. "I was so scared for you."

The two chatted for a long moment, during which the Handmaid's eyes were darting around in all directions. Laughing, Heather turned Brittany the appropriate direction, pointing and saying, "He's right over there. Go to him. He will be happy to see you."

Brittany was hesitant to so quickly leave her Lady again, but Heather ordered, "Go!"

"Are you okay, M'Lady?" Sir Herbert asked as he rode up on a horse a Guardsman had delivered to him from the peat harvest site. They spoke of the battles, the losses, the wins, and more. He told her firmly, "You are not to go without me next time, M'Lady."

She thanked him, promising she wouldn't, despite knowing that she probably would. Then, recalling the earlier conversation she'd overheard regarding carnal needs, Heather instructed Sir Herbert, "Find the men some companionship. Volunteers only, Sir Herbert," she stressed. "Fallen women ... widows without means ... sluts. Pay them well from my coin. No man is to burden himself with the cost tonight."

Sir Herbert was surprised by his Lady's command but vowed to see the task completed.

The remainder of those who'd been left behind were now streaming into the Keep's bailey. Many came to Heather to express their relief at seeing her safe. She thanked them, then either put them to work or told them to rest.

Out of the corner of her eye, Heather caught sight of the Giant. He was sitting in a corner of the wooden stockade, surrounded by children from the village who, in some cases, were being watched over by their parents or other adults. The Giant was demonstrating his strength by lifting children by the backs of their clothes or by their feet, dangling them upside down as they laughed. Some of the delighted children were tossing biscuits at his head, laughing heartily as he eagerly snatched them out of the air and swallowed them down without wasting time chewing.

She went to him, begged the children off, and -- once it was just the two of them, thanked him for all he'd done. Without her even having to ask what he wanted to do next with his life, the Giant said, "I am yours, Lady."

"You're free now, Giant," Heather told him. "You can return to your home ... to your people, your family."

"You are family now," he stressed. "My family."

"Thank you, Giant," she said, quickly asking, "What is your name?"

He hesitated before saying, "No name. Giant."

"Can I give you a name?" she asked after a moment. When he nodded, she contemplated some options, then offered, "Magnus. It is an old name. It means Great One."

The Giant smiled wide, nodded, and pounded a fist to his chest, bellowing out, "Magnus!"

Heather told him to find a quiet place to get some rest, then made her way back into the Keep. She didn't realize how exhausted she herself was until she sat on the Viscount's bed, allowed herself to lay back ... and fell asleep without realizing she'd done so.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:
After speaking with Lady Brittany and repeating often that it was only minor cuts and bruises, he managed to calm her enough that she’d go back to Lady Heather and stay in the keep.

Then he went on rounds. He didn’t trust the new men, not yet, so every new man was with a long time allie of the lady. They stood watch on the wall and the main gate was bared. Everyone from the peat field, the old guard, the injured man was brought inside. All the horses and even the carts.

Families were sent back to their homes, fallen guards stripped of their armor. Each was buried one by one. He wouldn’t allow a mass grave. It was disrespectful of the men that had died. Even if the fought on the wrong side. As far as they knew Marcus and his men had been bandits. If they were here for pay or for honor he didn’t know. But they would be given respect.

He himself dug as well, standing in the trenches as the Baron’s soldiers men dug. Once dug he’d had boards carved with their names, and then he’d prayed for their souls as dirt was heaped over them.

He made rounds after the funerals, making sure everyone was safe. He even managed a nap for a few hours before the cocks crowing woke him. Grabbing a guardsman he had him help put the armor on. And then had his leathers cleaned.

With mask an hood in place he went forth to join the Ladies Guard and make sure all was well. Sir Herbert had changed the guard during the night allowing the previous to rest. Moving to the forge he observed for a minute as gold was being melted down to make small bars, the silver was already cooled and loaded onto a wagon.

Each family was paid in silver, brass, steel, and bronze that they could spend without suspicion. The gold coins were set aside for her ladyship to dispense as she needed. The gems and jewelry were in chests for travel. Damaged armor was replaced as needed from the fallen. One of the villagers had been slain in the night, his throat cut. It didn’t take long for his murderer to confess. The dead man was the Baron’s lackey and spy. Every girl that had her first flowering was reported. Every whisper of rebellion was reported. Every wedding was reported. Prima Nocte had been practiced here. The Baron raping the wife before his men had her. Of the Baron’s men that switched sides only two passed scrutiny. They’d given bread and meat to those they could, and had never partaken of the Baron’s rewards.

The remaining Baron’s Guards were punished by the village for their crimes. Marcus and his men observed, but didn’t interfere – or aid – but the guards would not flee to warn others.

The survivors of th Village… justice were forced to dig more graves and then were jailed. Crime was was punished by the stocks, or by the jail cell. A pit in the ground with a cage over head, except the pig pen was next to it and a trough brought the liquid waste to the cell. A foot of foulness filled the bottom. Not liquid or solid but a vile mix.

Many of the Baron’s men had used it as a latrine when a prisoner was present. He hoped not all of the Baron’s mistreated their civilians so.

The sun was high in the sky when Marcus managed to return to Lady Heather. He’d claimed a heavy chestnut stallion plow horse. It could hold his weight and his armor. It wasn’t a war horse, but it would do for now.

 

[Alice2015]

Rachel:

The huntress had spent the hours between the battle and dawn simply wandering about the Keep, the bailey, and the village beyond. It was discouraging to see people living in conditions such as these. Her village on Little Gull Rock hadn't been wealthy, but the huts had kept their occupants dry, the roads had been graveled with gutters to prevent mud, and the Lord had been kind and -- compared to many others -- generous with those who were loyal to him.

In her wandering, Rachel curled around a hut and found a man sitting atop a chopping block outside a small hut; he was missing both of his legs below the knees. She wanted to know what had happened to cost him his feet; had he been punished for some wrong by the Viscount who Marcus had just killed.

He anticipated her question, though, and told her, "A tree fell on me while cutting timber ... a few years ago ... eight, I think. The Healer, Della, saved my life but not my legs."

Rachel engaged the man in conversation, inquiring about his life and how being crippled had affected him. She was surprised by his positivity; he had refused to let the loss bring him down. After almost an hour of chatting with him, she yawned, explaining, "I haven't slept for ... well, I don't know how long."

"Where will you sleep?" he asked.

"I don't know, really," Rachel told him. "I'm sure I'll find a soft, warm, dry spot somewhere."

He looked over his shoulder at his hut, saying, "You may have my bed, Miss. It's soft, warm and dry ... for the most part."

She smiled, shaking her head gently at him. Teasingly, she said, "You're a bad, bad man."

He laughed. "The sun will be up shortly. I would have to be up as well ... for work. You are welcome to use my bed while I am away."

Rachel contemplated the offer; it was highly inappropriate for her to sleep in a man's bed, particularly one she'd only just met. It wasn't something a lady did. Of course, in the opinion of many people, she hadn't been a lady since her mid-teens when she'd begun entertaining her village's Lord in exchange for resources to support her family.

"Thank you," she told the man, standing and heading to the open door of the hut. She stopped in it, looking back at him with a smile. After a moment, she began unbuckling and untying her clothes. As her bosom neared exposure, she said suggestively, "If you don't need to go to work quite yet..."

 

[Alice2015]

Caroline and Ellie:

The two sisters hurried away from the stables and out of the bailey, back to the hut they had shared with their father until he'd fled the village and their lives, never to be seen again. Inside, the elder sister held the younger one tightly, comforting her over her recent trauma.

The obvious difference between the sexual activities of Caroline and Ellie was that the former fucked for coin and the latter fucked for security. Ellie had been given the choice of parting her legs for the Stablemaster or for the Keep's Guards. "One man or twenty men," the Viscount had told her. "Your choice."

Caroline by that point had already been earning her living by taking men's cocks into her mouth or pussy, even her ass on occasion if the coin was sufficient. She'd been sent to the peat site to service the men there, believing that her sister would be protected. She'd been wrong it turned out, but by the time she learned, it was too late; her little sister had been deflowered and was essentially the property of the keeper of horses.

The two of them curled up together in the bed they'd always shared and easily fell asleep. Hours later they awoke, ate, stripped, and cleaned each other off with wetted rags. When they were finished, Caroline took a long look at Ellie's body. In contrast to her own bountiful curves and feminine facial features, her recently turned 18-year-old sister had the stick figure and blasé face of a 12-year-old boy.

"I have an idea," Caroline said.

They spent the next many minutes hacking off most of Ellie's hair. Visiting their neighbor while he slept off a generous serving of ale, they borrowed a set of clothes that had belonged to the man's son, tragically killed by a fever that had swept through the village.

Back at their own hut, they wrapped Ellie's bosom tightly; although her breasts were smallish, particularly compared to Carolines, Ellie's nipples were large and ever-pert and often showed themselves through lightweight clothing. Once they'd put the young woman in the borrowed clothing, a woolen cap, and heavy boots, even those villagers who knew her would never have recognized her.

They left the hut separately, hoping to conceal Ellie's identity, and made their way back to the Keep's bailey. Caroline looked about until she found Marcus. She went to him, glancing over her shoulder and signaling Ellie to follow. "Sergeant. I'd like you to meet someone."

When her younger sister arrived, Caroline said, "Sergeant Stormbow, this is ... Eric ... my brother. He is well skilled with horses ... tack. He worked for the Viscount's Stablemaster. He hasn't worked with armor or served a Knight--"

It was Caroline's understanding, albeit incorrect, that Marcus had been knighted already. She continued, "--but he is intelligent and a quick learner and would make a great squire. It is my understanding that you are looking for a squire, yes?"

 

[Alice2015]

Heather and Brittany:

It was nearing midday before Heather finally awoke. She was covered by a blanket she hadn't pull over herself; wiggling her toes, she discovered that her boots and stockings had been removed as well. Sitting up, she found Brittany curled up on a nearby couch, also barefoot and covered in a blanket.

Heather rose and crossed to her Handmaid, kneeling beside her and reaching out a hand to pull her hair from her face. The slight touch was enough to awaken the young woman. Brittany blinked her eyes awake, smiled, and whispered, "You're awake."

"And you're beautiful," Heather responded.

The two giggled and embraced. They spoke about the previous night, avoiding any graphic talk of the battle itself. Brittany looked her friend over, saying with emphasis, "You need a bath ... badly!"

They laughed again and embraced again. The sounds of their animation drew a knock at the door. Heather called, "Come"

A woman of about 30 entered, identified herself as one of the now-dead Viscount's house servants, and told Heather, "I now serve you, M'Lady." Smiling toward Brittany, she corrected, "M'Ladies."

Heather moved to the woman, asking, "Do you want to be a Chamber Maid ... or is this something into which you were forced."

"Before you, M'Lady, I was forced," the woman said. Performing a skilled curtsey, she added, "But for you, it is an honor."

Heather considered the offer, accepted it, and promised, "You will be taken well care of ... I'm sorry...?"

"Polly, M'Lady," the servant said. Her nose wrinkled a bit as she looked Heather over. With a smirk she said, "You need a bath, M'Lady."

"That's what I said!" Brittany agreed.

"No offense, M'Lady," Polly said to the Handmaid, "but you need a bath, too!"

The three of them laughed together. Polly led them to an adjoining room where a tub was already filled with warm water. Polly topped it off with hot water from a pot heating over a nearby fire, then offered to help the women bathe. Brittany told her they'd be fine and excused the woman.

"Send a man to Sergeant Marcus, please," Heather said before Polly had departed. "Tell him I would like to see him in an hour."

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:

“Well he’s intelligent, a quick learner knows horses and is mute? If he needs his sister to speak for him. A squire also takes messages, I don’t need a mute.” Marcus replied looking Eric over. He needed the help with the armor and the boy would be better than nothing. “Fine, you’ll serve me until one of dies or I find someone that’s not a mute.”

He didn’t believe the boy was mute, just had a pushy sister, most quiet boys did. Once away the boy probably wouldn’t shut his mouth. “Find water and bathe, you stink more than this shit hole. Then get armor that fits. Fuck whichever girl you’re sticking you dagger in, and then find me if you still want to serve.”

“And boy, Eric, if you break a vow, or betray her Ladyship the punishment is the same.” The horse shifted trying to avoid Fang as the furry creature stared at eric and his sister. “You don’t feed him, unless you break a vow.” The message was clear, betrayal meant the wolf would eat him. Apparently, Marcus took vows seriously.

A soldier ran over and gave him a message, so he trotted off to the main building. Chunks of the road, bits of mud and other waste flipped up from the hooves, making the smell worse.

Stopping at the kitchen he fed Fang before he spooked the horse or townsfolk anymore. He knew Fang was playing and just wanted a treat, but it still scared the shit of the people when he opened his jaws that way.

Stopping outside her Ladyships door he knocked, only a metal gauntlet made that sound, and only him and Master Herbert wore Armour.

 

[Alice2015]

Caroline and Ellie, with Marcus:

“Find water and bathe," Marcus told Ellie. "You stink more than this shit hole."

He wasn't wrong about that. The Stablemaster hadn't put a great deal of importance on Ellie's hygiene. He, after all, lived in the stables amongst the stalls filled with the shit and piss of two dozen horses. He smelled, so why would he care if his play thing did, too?

"Then get armor that fits," the Sergeant said. "Fuck whichever girl you’re sticking your dagger in, and then find me if you still want to serve.”

Ellie's eyes widened a bit at Marcus's order, not because of the sex aspect but because of the armor comment. Armor? Why would I need armor? Armor was for Knights, wasn't it? She was no Knight. She had no combat training at all.

In fact, she'd only ever been involved in violence twice in her life: once when a village boy grabbed her ass, and she kicked him in the nuts; the other when the Stablemaster attempted for the first time to avail himself of his new plaything, and -- after Ellie resisted -- he slapped her almost into unconsciousness, then raped her again and again through the night.

Ellie had no idea where she was supposed to get armor, particularly armor that fit her petite body. But she had two things going for her: first, a great deal of armor had been confiscated from the Viscount's men; and second, Ellie's uncle was the Keep's smithy and armorer, and while he would question the pretending to be a boy idea, he wouldn't hesitate to aid his nieces in their deception.

Marcus was about to leave after being called away to see Lady Heather. Feeling she needed to reassure her new Lord that she did indeed have the power of speech, Ellie called out, "Thank you, M'--"

Ellie went suddenly quiet, though, when she realized how girly her voice sounded. She cleared her throat, then continued with a lowered tone she thought sounded more masculine, "Thank you, M'Lord. You won't be sorry."

Once Marcus was gone, Caroline turned her sister toward the creek where those without access to a bathtub dealt with their hygiene.

"I can't do this," Elite whispered. "I'm going to get caught, and he'll call that betrayal, and he'll feed me to his dog--"

"Stop, stop!" Caroline demanded. "You can do this. I'll help you. Uncle will help you. You can do this. You have to do this."

"Why?" Ellie asked, feeling like she was about to cry.

"Because as a girl, you'll never be more than a whore," Caroline answered, adding, "like me."

Ellie would have argued with her sister if Caroline hadn't been absolutely correct. She'd been deflowered -- no, worse, she'd been raped -- then kept as a sexual servant. No decent man of worth would ever have her, and any man who would have her was unlikely to treat her well.

"We get you cleaned up," Caroline said as she dragged her sister toward the creek. "Uncle cuts and shapes some of the leather armor to--"

"Leather?" Ellie interrupted. She felt instant relief. "I thought he meant armor armor ... like metal armor."

"Of course not, silly," Caroline laughed. "What do you think you are, a Knight?" She laughed again, continuing, "Uncle gets you leather armor. We find you more boy clothes. You practice your new voice until it becomes second nature. You pay attention to your Master ... and do what he tells you, when he tells you, how he tells you ... and you'll be fine."

 

[Alice2015]

Heather and Brittany, with Marcus:

When Marcus arrived at the anteroom of the now-dead Noble's bed chamber, Heather was again wearing her dress with only the basic undergarments beneath; the lack of layers tended to emphasize her curvy figure more deliciously, particularly since she was still wearing her leather bustier. Heather gestured her Bodyguard inside, saying, "Please, Sergeant, come in. We have hot tea and a delicious biscuit the Viscount's cook bakes."

Brittany was in the adjacent bedroom and -- hearing her lover's name -- hurried excitedly into the other room, shopping short upon seeing him. She smiled broadly, then tried -- but failed -- to dampen her obvious joy when her Lady looked her way. For her part, Heather smiled without reserve, knowing precisely what was causing her Handmaid's mind to spin, heart to race, and loins to yearn.

"Brittany, will you do me a favor and go to the kitchen for some goat's milk," Heather said. She saw the disappointed expression on the other woman's face and nearly laughed. "Take your time, dear. Marcus and I will be talking together alone for some time."

The Handmaid grimaced at her Lady, who -- with her back to Marcus -- stuck her tongue out playfully. "Away with you, Brittany."

Once the two of them were alone, Heather asked Marcus how things were going beyond the walls of the Keep. She was impressed with what he had to report and let him know so. "I've been thinking about this town, Marcus. It is a town, not a village ... or it would be if the stone wall were to be repaired and some proper infrastructure was to be completed ... proper roads and huts ... an Apothecary -- we already have a healer -- and more.

"But what a town must have is a Lord," she continued. "It needs a strong leader who can win the hearts and minds of its population ... a man who can motivate the people without the violence and threats and mistreatment that I've heard the previous Noble Lord employed to his heart's content."

She sipped at her tea and nibbled at a biscuit before continuing, "I considered you for the position, Marcus." She hesitated a moment to let him wrap his mind around the thought. "I decided on Sir Herbert, though. He is an honorable man, someone I can trust and the people will obey."

Hesitating, Heather's tone got more solemn. "Also ... he is reaching an age at which ... honestly ... he shouldn't be on the battlefield riding a galloping horse and swinging a sword at men half ... a third his age. So ... when we leave this village, Sir Herbert will stay behind with a Squad of my Guardsmen and the Sergeant who commands them, as well as those Guards formerly in service to the Viscount who you have determined are trustworthy."

Again, Heather paused to sip and nibble, then said, "You are young, Marcus. But I believe that you are entirely capable to leading my Quest forces." She smiled to him and asked, "Thoughts?"

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:
“I would hesitate to reduce our mobile force so much, and with a less heavy hand Sir Herbert is less likely to encounter the number of complications the Viscount had. Also Sir Herbert can train the villagers in the art of combat so that they are suitable to defend the location as well. I would also recommend that the soldiers marry into the town, it creates solidarity and unification.”

“And only two of the Viscounts men have not been placed in the jail-pit. The rest were bullies, thieves, and rapists. Including one that had defected at the camp site.”

“We don’t have the manpower to guard them, we don’t have the supplies to feed them indefinitely, and we can’t take them with us, but if they are released then the nearest Baron comes down on this town with an army.”

 

[Alice2015]

Heather, with Marcus:

Marcus spoke his concerns regarding leaving so many of Heather's Little Gull Rock Guardsmen behind at the village, suggesting instead that Sir Herbert train selected villagers instead. Heather thought on his opinion a moment before saying, "I agree. That makes sense."

"I would also recommend that the soldiers marry into the town," he continued, explaining, "it creates solidarity and unification.”

"Of course," she agreed yet again. It was commonplace for people of different cultures or locales or even economic stations to intermarry to bring their differing groups together. She added a kicker, "Those who do will be given a bonus. Perhaps a few acres of communal land ... or stock animals. What would you advise?"

When Marcus spoke of the prisoners and how there didn't seem to be any good options for dealing with them, Heather stood and walked to the window looking out on the bailey and -- beyond it and the wall -- the pit where many of the battle's defeated were being kept.

"If we can't guard them or feed them long term or take them with us," she mused, as much for herself as for Marcus, "what other choices do we have?" She turned to look back at her Sergeant. "Sell them into slavery?"

It was, of course, an often-chosen solution for how to deal with prisoners. For a thousand years, convicted criminals, political prisoners, and POWs had been sold into bondage to dispose of them and to bring in coin, often to cover some of the lasting expenses of war.

"The peat harvesting operation," Heather said. "I have spoken with some of the village's residents, and while the Viscount was truly the only person making any profit from the industry, they have all said that without the continued operation of the peat harvest, this village would suffer economic collapse. Goat and sheep ranching and grain farming are the village's only other source of income, and together, they still wouldn't feed the village. And with the loss of Magnus..."

She hesitated, smiling as she explained, "The Giant is now named Magnus, in case you hadn't heard." She continued, "With the loss of Magnus at the site, the peat business will fail if it isn't suddenly supplied a large quantity of workers earning minimal wages.

"If we were to offer the prisoners a choice, between being sold into bondage or serving a year of indentured servitude at the peat site, I believe they would take the latter option."

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:
“Communal Land sounds acceptable, as does an animal or two. Of course, the animals will need to be purchased and brought here. We’ll need a month to get the villagers to point that they can adequately defend the town.”

“I myself never considered the option of slavery or indentured servitude. Working the peat fields for a year sounds like an acceptable alternative. I’m sure they’d accept the punishment., or we could sell them to a pirate ship in the next port.”

“I’ve taken on a squire, possibly temporary. He’s young or likes boys. His voice is breaking, and he blushes when I told him to bed his women before he meets with me again. I’ll do what I can with him until the next city, unless he proves worthy enough to keep training on the road.”

“How long are you planning on staying here?” Mostly he just wanted to know if the soldiers would be setting up tents, and whether to send patrols for the area.

 

[Alice2015]

Caroline, Ellie, and an unexpected woman:

After leaving Marcus, the two sisters had hurried across the village to their uncle's house, eager to speak with him about fashioning some leather armor for the younger sister who, of course, was now pretending to be a boy. They rapped on the door of the hut, called out to him, got no answer, and entered anyway.

"Oh, Gods!" Ellie exclaimed as she entered first and found a naked woman straddling her uncle's groin, rocking back and forth with eyes closed and sounds of pleasure escaping her. The younger niece diverted her eyes, quickly saying, "Forgive us, Uncle."

Behind her, the older and -- after being a whore for some time now -- more sexually accepting Caroline only laughed. The woman energetically fucking her uncle heard her, snatched the bedding, and held it to her generous bosom. The older niece gestured to communicate that all was well and apologized, "Sorry, we expected him to be alone."

Below his new lover, Uncle Victor looked to his older niece with an expression of annoyance; he was so close to cumming for a third time, and that was very unlikely to happen now. As his lover rose, taking the bedding with her and exposing his erect manhood -- it glistened in the light flooding in from the now open door -- Victor growled, "Just because my legs no longer work, that doesn't mean my cock doesn't."

He used his hands to lift his torso up from the bed, turn to face the sisters, and pull clothing over his groin and -- where most men had extending legs and feet -- what most people unkindly referred to as his stubs. He growled again, "What are you doing here, and why are you interrupting me without knocking?"

"We did knock," Caroline said, her face filled with humor. "You just didn't hear us over your friend's cries of joy."

"I wasn't--" Rachel began, before going silent and then only whispering to the man who'd driven her to four amazing climaxes in just a couple of hours, "Who are these girls?"

"They are my nieces," Victor said as he pulled his shirt over his head. Then, looking to the younger of the women -- still diverting her eyes which put the back of her head to him -- said, "I think they are. What happened to your hair, girl?"

"That's what we're here to talk to you about," Caroline responded. She looked the huntress up and down, smiled, and said, "I know you. You were with the Sergeant ... Marcus. You're the archer."

Embarrassed, Rachel continued to hold the bedding to her naked body as well as she could while finding and donning her clothes with the other. She neither confirmed nor denied the older sister's claim, fearing what might happen if this got back to Marcus; it was well into the afternoon, and Rachel was certain that Sergeant Stormbow would be wondering where his huntress was and why she wasn't performing some form of work intended to please Lady Heather, as opposed to pleasing herself.

"We need armor," Ellie said, now taking quick peeks at the woman who she herself had not met until this moment.

"Why would you need armor?" Victor asked. Looking to his older niece, he asked accusingly, "What are you involved in now, girl?"

Carrying her boots, bow, and some of her undergarments, Rachel headed for the hut's exit, passing by the sisters with lowered eyes. She stopped before departing, though, hesitated, and looked back to the man who had so completely satisfied her. She wanted to express her delight at having invited him to his bed, but instead only smiled, nodded, and left.

"Okay, what the hell is this all about?" Victor asked.

 

[Alice2015]

Lady Heather and Sergeant Marcus:

OOC -- Wow, I found an image online that I want to use as our village. It is linked below. You have to use your imagination, though:

• Everything inside the stone walls and immediately below it is part of the story.
• The stone walls are in great disrepair, and the stone wall immediately in front of the Keep (the big house in the upper right) is actually a wooden stockade spoken of earlier.
• The mountains, river, and bridge do not exist.
• Instead, the town and the hill on which it sits are surrounded by rolling lands on which the peat harvesting sites exist.

.............................​

Marcus gave his opinions about communal lands, stock animals, and servitude. Heather agreed with him about slavery and its lesser form; she had on many occasions had to sentence criminals to labor and service of various types during her time as Lady of Little Gull Rock, and while she'd known it was necessary, she'd never enjoyed it.

She sipped tea, nibbled a biscuit, and stood to go look out the window again before turning and giving him her decision. "You have dealt with these men, Marcus ... during battle ... following it. You have a better sense of who they are. I will give you authority to judge their fate, to give them their sentence: freedom if you feel it is appropriate; a year of service to the village, either as a guard -- under Sir Herbert's close supervision, of course -- or in peat harvesting or building better roads or some other form of labor; or -- if you believe it is appropriate -- transfer to the nearest port to enter service on a pirate ship.

"There is a man ... I believe his name was Green...?" Heather continued, speaking about one of the pirates that had joined the Destiny's crew initially but who had then traveled with the Quest team and was now likely getting his knobbed shined by some village whore. "Captain Paulo told me that he was once Commander of a pirate ship and was hoping to train, equip, and deploy a new crew and vessel against League of Barons merchant ships. From what Captain Paulo told me, this man has a ... a tragic tale and reason for wanting revenge against the League."

Heather wasn't going to go into what the Destiny's captain had told her about this man Green now as there were more important things with which to deal. Marcus might have already heard the stories for all she knew. It caused her heart to roll anxiously as she recalled what the League had done to Green's family.

"If there are men who you feel can't be left here in the village and would be a danger if set free," Heather continued on the topic, "you will have them turned over to Green with a significant pouch of coin and gemstones ... to give him a start in his return to piracy and revenge against those who harmed him." She returned to her seat, asking, "What else, Sergeant?"

“I’ve taken on a squire," Marcus told her, adding, "possibly temporary."

He explained his concerns over the young man, saying, "I’ll do what I can with him until the next city, unless he proves worthy enough to keep training on the road.”

"I have confidence that you can turn even the most unlikely of boys into an excellent squire, Sergeant," Heather said with a sincere tone. She could have expanded on that, but really, this was his concern and she had nothing to do with choice of a Squire. "What else, Sergeant?"

He asked, “How long are you planning on staying here?”

"Hmm ... that is a good question," she mused, again turning back to the window. She looked down onto the village. The Viscount had let the community fall into great disrepair, and a proper Noble leader would take the time and coin to rebuild it at least to the point that if it were to be attacked -- as it was last night by the Quest Party -- its Guard would have a better-than-not chance of protecting it. She ignored that for a moment, turning back to Marcus to ask, "How long do your Guardsmen need to rest, recuperate ... rearm ... new armor and weapons or repairs of what they have?

"When we leave here," she continued, once again returning to sit before Marcus as she spoke, "we will likely be operating without the element of surprise. There is a possibility that one of the Viscount's men escaped capture and is heading to another village, another town, seeking help ... or at the least, speaking of what he's seen ... yes?"

Heather listened to Marcus's response, then told him her plan. "The Elf ... Pria ... she was captured and sold, then sold again, twice! Each time, she was moved to a new location by a new master who..."

She hesitated, not wanting to get into the details of what her male masters had done with and to her during her enslavement. The fact that she'd been found in the Viscount's bedroom in the dark of night was probably enough for Marcus to paint a fairly accurate picture.

(OOC: The village in which they find themselves now is right on the lower edge of the next image, between the dark green forest and the seashore.)

"She is from the swamp lands of the Great Steppe River delta," Heather continued. Her lips spread in a smile as she continued, "She is from the same general area west of the town of Delta where we were intending to travel before we were forced ashore by the League of Barons fleet."

Heather stood again, moved to sit on the couch close to her new Bodyguard, and continued with a sincere tone, "Marcus ... I am very aware of how you would prefer that I don't advertise who I really am and what I am doing ... what we are doing. I am aware that each time I speak of it to someone new, I am putting the Quest in danger of failure ... that I am putting my life in danger, as well as the lives of everyone who supports me.

"But if we don't find allies ... if we don't turn communities to our side ... if we don't find warriors to fight for us and Nobles to put their power and wealth to work for us ... if we don't find sympathetic Creatures who want the same thing we want ... that I have wanted since I was a little girl ... then the Quest will fail.

"I will make you this promise, Marcus," she continued, reaching out to take one of his hands in her own. "I will stop speaking so freely about my identity and my destiny ... and I will seek your counsel regarding both." She donned a guilty expression, confessing, "That being said ... the Elf already knew who I was. You saw the coin. You heard her call me by my true name, Princess Allison. So ... I have explained it all to her ... and she has agreed to lead us to her home in the delta."

Heather smiled more broadly now, finishing, "She says ... Pria says ..." She paused, almost ready to burst in joy. "She says the Elves of the delta number more than 300 strong ... and she believes that they will support us in our Quest."

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:
“It is your will and I have sworn to obey. I simply ask for a modicum of discretion when possible.” Marcus replied, sipping the hot tea.

“You are right that we need a base, and allies. Although I was hoping for more tiem to make contacts and be ready before we started taking over enemy strongholds. Our forces aren’t large enough at the moment. Even if there is a giant. If 300 Elves are willing to assist it will greatly help. But with the might of the League of Barons, we will need thousands of soldiers.”

 

[Alice2015]

Heather with Marcus:

“It is your will," Marcus told Heather, "and I have sworn to obey."

"Thank you, Sergeant," she said, using his rank rather than his given name since he himself was speaking to her as soldier. "I appreciate that more than you can imagine."

He told her, "I simply ask for a modicum of discretion when possible.”

"You'll have it," she told him.

He spoke about needing a base from which to operate, allies, and more time to prepare. He was right, Heather knew. This was all moving much faster than she'd expected. She'd expected to still be on the Great Steppe River right now, making their way up it with a combination of full sails and row boats towing them.

And even when they did reach Sir Herbert's contact in the town of Delta, Heather had still expected two or three weeks or even months to pass before they made contact with the Elves living in the swamps west of Three Point Island. Instead, it had only been a few days -- several, more accurately -- since they'd departed Little Gull Rock.

"Even if there is a giant," Marcus continued. "If 300 Elves are willing to assist it will greatly help. But with the might of the League of Barons, we will need thousands of soldiers.”

Heather considered her Sergeant's assessment, agreeing, "You're absolutely right."

There was a sharp knock on the door and -- without waiting for permission -- Brittany entered, walking around the end of the couch to look down at her two lovers. She had an expectant expression on her face as she stared at Heather.

"I'm sorry we took so long," the Lady said, her tone more comical than sincere. She stood, looking to Marcus as she finished her end of the conversation, "You will have all the time you need. We are in no hurry. I need your men strong and stocked. A couple of days ... a week ... whatever you need."

She looked to Brittany, smiled, and moved close to embrace her. Whispering in the Handmaid's ear, Heather said, "I think your man could use a bath ... and ... whatever you might be able to do for him in the Viscount's bed chamber."

Pulling back, she winked to Brittany, then told Marcus, "I'm going to take a walk around the village. I'll take Sir Herbert with me ... tell him about his future here."

Heather departed, leaving the lovers behind. Brittany waited a moment before suggesting, "Wouldn't a bath feel good about now?"

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Marcus:
“Yes, a bath, and only a bath, would feel wonderful,” Marcus replied. Yes he wanted to spend a night naked and sweaty with Brittany, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to perform adequately for her. Plus he was still dealing with the deaths of 10 hostiles by his hand, and three under his direct command. Yeah, he’d get used to it in time. But he’d never taken a life before, not sentient anyways. Deer, bear, fox, and other food animals didn’t count.

“I’ve gained a squire. A boy, try not to torment him too much. Pretty sure it may be a girl hiding as a boy. Probably afraid I’ll rape her or some such. If it is a girl don’t tell on her. Don’t even tell me.”

“Might be a boy, he blushed when I told him to fuck his woman because we’d be leaving soon. Then he spoke a little higher than he should have then rather deeply. Maybe his voice is changing. But his ass, hips, waist, walk, and hands all say otherwise. Fingers are longer and more slender. Not thicker and wide. He’s been working with horses and stinks of it.”

“I want to see how it plays out, might be hiding from rapists, might be a spy. I’ll know soon enough.”

 

[Alice2015]

Brittany, with Marcus:

“Yes, a bath," Marcus agreed when Brittany suggested they retire to one. He then disappointed her by adding, "and only a bath, would feel wonderful.”

She pouted out her lower lip and reached a hand to his crotch to remind him of what taking a bath with her included. But he wasn't interested, and Brittany wasn't about to push him into it. Without him having to explain himself to her, Brittany understood what was occupying his mind. She hadn't been involved in the battle, of course, but she'd seen the bodies being gathered for burial at the edge of town when Sir Herbert brought her and the others from beyond the hillock behind which they'd been hiding.

Brittany had seen People kill other People, of course. Even though she'd gotten past the horrific nightmares of her youth, she still had a clear image of the League of Baron's forces ambushing the Emperor's train and slaughtering him, his family, and his entourage. Brittany's mother and younger brother had been killed that night, too. At least, that was what she had always assumed; Brittany, as Princess Allison's best friend, had been riding with the young heir and had been hurried away from the fight by Sir Herbert without ever knowing for certain what had happened to her family members.

But seeing others killed and being part of the killing -- as Marcus had reluctantly been tonight -- were two entirely different things, and Brittany understood and accepted this with all her heart. She helped her lover out of his clothing and into a hot tub, then -- without intentionally stimulating him -- ran a bar of soap and soft cotton cloth over his body in an attempt to wash away the bad memories of the previous night.

“I’ve gained a squire," Marcus told her as she worked her magic. He spoke of how he suspected the boy of actually being a girl in hiding. “I want to see how it plays out..."

Brittany couldn't help but wonder how it would play out as well. The entire time he'd been speaking of this boy, she'd been imagining the girl within stripping away her disguise, mounting Marcus, and giving him what all men in a position of power who she'd ever known wanted from women of lesser standing.

"You're clean once again," she told her lover as she poured warm, clean water from a pitcher over his head. "Stand up. Let me dry you off. You should sleep, my love."

Brittany's use of those last two words was new and very much intentional. Whether this Squire was anyone of whom to be concerned or not, she knew that Marcus would come across many women in the days and months to come who would yearn for him or for what he could do for them as Lady Heather's Bodyguard and -- it now appeared with Sir Herbert's new role here in this village -- leader of the Quest forces.

She'd never thought of herself as a jealous person. But then, other than Heather, Brittany had never had anyone who she cared about losing. Marcus had made an incredible impression on her, as a man, a leader, and a loyalist to the Quest. She would do her best to contain her obsession for him; she wasn't a silly little girl anymore. But she wanted him to understand that if he was amenable to it, they were a couple from this point out.

She retrieved one of the Viscount's robes from the bed chamber and urged Marcus to slip into with the intention of retiring to the room across the hall that had once belonged to the Lord's own Bodyguard. Whether he did that or redressed to once again return to duty or not was up to him. Whether he chose the former action and then allowed her to slip into bed beside him was also up to him.

 

[Alice2015]

Heather and Sir Herbert, wandering the village:

After finding a pair of Guardsmen to escort her, Heather left the Keep and wandered unhurriedly out into the village. By now, the dead and injured had been dealt with; the former had all been buried respectfully just outside the village, and the latter were all either back in their homes if their injuries hadn't been that severe or were in the first level of the Keep, where Heather's Healer and the village's healer were working together with other villagers to keep them alive and comfortable.

Heather had Sir Herbert tracked down and sent her way, and together they walked about inspecting the village. Realizing that she hadn't yet done so, she asked, "What is this community called?"

"Hillview, M'Lady," her Bodyguard told her. Gesturing to draw her attention to the valley and peat bogs lay below and surrounded the village, he added, "Not very original, but accurate."

"What happened here?" she asked, indicating a portion of the stone wall that ran around the village. "From what I've seen, more of the wall is damaged than is still functional."

"Prior to the rebellion that led to the fall of your grandfather's empire," he answered, repeating what he'd learned from talking to some of Hillview's elders, "this was a flourishing, prosperous town ... ruled over by an Earl who was very much loyal to Emperor Askari. There was trade here, over stone roads to the north and east. Peat, dried meat, hides.

"And the Creatures were welcomed here," he continued, "Elves from the forests to the south and west ... Giants from the plateau." He waved his hand before him, indicating the sky as he said, "They say once the sky was filled with clouds of Pixies.

"The League of Barons laid siege to the town when the Empire could no longer defend it," he went on. "They eradicated the Creatures ... smashed the walls with trebuchets, ballistae. The townsfolk..." His tone became more solemn. "Many people died ... fled. Many others were sold into slavery. The League had overwhelmed the Earl's forces ... and yet they didn't take the town. They simply encircled it, continued the siege ... and watched the population slowly die from starvation ... disease.

"Eventually, the Duke walked out of the town to the League Commander's tent to surrender," Sir Herbert said, gesturing off toward where he was told the surrender had occurred. "The League crucified him ... tied him to a cross and left him on display for six days ... until finally he died. By then, the town had been overrun by the League. The remaining women and children were sold into slavery. Most of the men were killed. It was all to set an example ... for other towns.

"Hillview never recovered," the Bodyguard said, stating the obvious. "I don't know if it ever will--"

"It will," Heather stressed. "It will. We will make it happen."

They spent the next couple of hours just walking about and talking about what Hillview needed. Heather saw the town -- now a village, with no walls and a reduced population -- as the beginning of the good the Quest would accomplish. "I need to send someone to the shore to meet with the Merfolk."

"The Merfolk?" he asked with surprise. "Why, M'Lady?"

"It will take more coin than we have to bring return this village to its former glory as a functioning town," Heather said. "I need someone I can trust to go the shore, meet with the Merfolk, and have them retrieve more coin from the Sea Bank. It's how we start ... a beginning."

"Sergeant Stormbow?" Sir Herbert asked.

"It's a thought," Heather responded. "I was thinking you ... and Rachel the Huntress ... along with a protective detail."

They spoke more about it as they walked. As they ventured back toward the Keep, Heather said, "And I need to speak with the people ... formally."

"You want to hold court?" he asked.

"It would be a good start, I think," Heather told him. "I've met some of the villagers. They need direction. I can point them the right way. Then, when I leave, to continue the Quest ... you will take over. You will rebuild this town ... return it to its earlier glory. I have faith in you, Sir Herbert."

He nodded respectfully to her, after which they made their farewells for now and went their separate ways.