The Wolf and the Dove

Destiny_Brent

Literotica Guru
Joined
Mar 1, 2001
Posts
1,705
Main Characters:
Ok, I only have name's for the first 3 main characters so just make up the rest

Aislynn: (Destiny_Brent) A young girl, a beauty to see with violet eyes and long blond hair. About 18 and has never known the touch of a man. Her fathers camp has been taken over by agnor and his men. Wulfgar is the general and is on his way and later she's forced to stay with him, but he won't touch her until one night when she get's REALLY lippy and he takes her, but deep down she really wants him so she gives in. She's treated with respect later after Wulfgar got there on his orders. She is very close to her mother.
Ragnor : Age 35. Ragnor is the ruffian who at first appears in the story. He comes to take over and conquer Aislynn's fathers camp. He hates Wulfgar with a passion, as he is a Bastard child and hates the king that's encroaching, thinking he favored Wulfgar because like Wulfgar he is a Bastard child as well.
Wulfgar : Age 33. A strong and rough type, loyal, and a leader. He has his violent side, but also a softer side, though it is rarely ever seen. He comes to the place and takes over from Ragnor, including taking the girl Ragnor was lusting over so much. Aislynn.
Mother : Age 37. Aislynn's mother. Hates what's happening but serves as she has no other choice. She is very close to her daughter.
Aislynn's Betrothed : A proper gentlemen, not particularly strong but kind. He is extremely upset by Ragnor taking her, but he is willing to ingore it, being a little bit weak he is easily made a slave by Ragnor and Wulfgar, but he says it all in his expressions as he watches her on Wulfgar's arm.
Wulfgar's Sister : A strong, not too beautiful but pretty enough. She is also larger, not fat, but plump. She is arrogant, and always rude to Wulfgar who tolerates it. Ragnor seduces her and she thinks they're in love, however he still of course lusts after Aislynn and wishes to take her.
Wulfgar's mother : Likes Wulfgar despite he's her husbands child by affair, not her son. She treats him with respect and care, thinking he is the son she would have liked to have, her other son being weak from disease died around 22. She loves her daughter but is irrated by her arrogance and how she treats her half brother.
Female Servant : A young girl also 18, but small and frail. Sweet and cute, but weak and innocent. Aislynn thought the first round of rapes would kill her, but miraculously she survived and continues to serve.
[]ale Servant : [/B] the friend of Female Servant: 19. He is tall and lanky and always has been a servant so he continues this to Ragnor, and Wulfgar.
And any male Vikings you'd wish to add
 
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I think I'll take the betrothed lover. His name is Rander, and he doesn't like being a slave.
 
Ragnor

IC:
The day is foul and the rain pelts down, stinging the two of us as we lay behind a bush that borders a clearing that hosts an encampment. I nod to the scout who disappears into the woods. The high clouds darken the sky so that no soul could know that it is noon.
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In the mud, my sword pushes into my side causing me great uncomfort. From under my cap only two things could I feel: My long black hair scratches my ears and the back of my neck and beads of sweat slowly crawling toward one another, pooling together to form a small river running from my forehead into my ocean blue eyes.
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As a coward would never admit to being yellow, I adimently acclaim that I never complain. I can deal with whatever life throws at me.
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Did I mention that the rocks in the mud are jagged and they cut into my legs and my arms. Leather is resistant to water, but these boots must have been made by a nitwit. Next time I take a pair of boots from a dead man I will check that he died not from cold, wet feet.
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A sparrow calls in the distance. On a sunny day, such an event is hardly worth mention, but today is too dismal to have a bird about. This sparrow is naught a bird but one of my men, signaling that we are ready.
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I will be grateful when I do get out of this mud as I am ready for a nice bathing session. I wonder if any of the women in this camp know how to properly bath a man of my standing--I'm nearly royalty... or so I like to think.
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I reach into my hip sack and search for my whistle. Where is that infernal piece of metal? I mistakenly grab a small knife and prick my finger. 'Damn this day and the trouble that this encampment is causing me,' I curse loudly in my mind. Finally, my hand, slowly dripping a red trail, captured the whistle from within my sack. I ready myself to stand and charge and place the whistle between my overly large lips. The thin mustache barely brushing the metal, I inhale through my nose and know that the next sound from my mouth will be a shrill alarm, signaling the many trained troops to attack this encampment.
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BIO (as posted):
Ragnor: Age 35. Ragnor is the ruffian who at first appears in the story. He comes to take over and conquer Aislynn's fathers camp. He hates Wulfgar with a passion, as he is a Bastard child and hates the king that's encroaching, thinking he favored Wulfgar because like Wulfgar he is a Bastard child as well.
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6'1"
Jet black hair, poorly cared for, that descends to my collar.
Deep-set eyes that are bright blue, but often bloodshot, giving a sinister look to our hero... in my point of view, anyway.
A nose that smushed in and very fat, probably from fights as a child.
A very thin mustache that looks quite goofy.
Two very fat lips that hang like raspberry jelly from around my mouth.
I am missing one of my front teeth and in its place, a gold tooth hangs like a stalactite.
My chin is very rounded and sticks out a bit too far for my liking.
I am a large man, and like to boss people around. And, I hate commanders above me.
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OOC:
1. Time in history?
2. Any other info that would be helpful to me.
3. Glad to be part of the story, thanks to Destiny_Brent for starting this thread.
 
OOC: I'd like to be the Female Servant if you don't mind :)

Name: Leandra (nick named Lee by her friends)
Age:18
Height: 5'7
Hair: dark brown
Eyes: pale blue

INFO: Young and innocent in the world she was unready for the assault on the camp. Being raped repeatedly she refused to let any man break her spirit. Seeming frail and weak on the outside inside there was an inner strength that she held onto tightly refusing to let anyone take it from her.

I will post shortly :)
 
???

OOC:
I was expecting more people to participate or for a reply from the village... like what my character's about to face. I will post my attack after the next positive reply. Thank you... Bobo
 
Leandra heard a faint whistle in the distance and looked toward the sound. The ground seemed to tremble, she looked up from the ground and gasp dropping the basket of fruit she had been carrying. The hill seemed awash with troops of men. All of them armed and none of them looking nice. Picking up her skirt she ran as fast as she could to the village leader knowing already that all was doomed.
 
Apologies

I'm sorry everyone, I completely forgot that I decided to try this thread on this rp. I'm very sorry! Forgive? Great opening Bobo

1. Time in history?
Viking times I wasn't going to get very specific, as this is based on a book which I don't have, (Will check out this week), and haven't read in a little while. Think Druids, a 100 years before Camelot, the Knights and so on.
2. Any other info that would be helpful to me.
This story is going to be an open-ended type of story, how it goes and changes through is completely 100% free from the actual novel. I don't want it to be the same, I'd like it to be original.
Wulfgar won't show up until after Ragnor has taken over the castle, and decided on Aislynn belonging to him. And is of course furious when Wulfgar claims her later, he is shown no respect by Wulfgar, but feared by all the rest. (In an amusing (to me) scene Ragnor is actually thrown naked from Wulfgar's bedchambers as he tried to rape Aislynn again while Wulfgar was supposedly away.) :) He isn't loyal at all outside of what he has to be to survive. He hates the new rulership, hates Wulfgar and is basically a selfish cowardly all together horrible person. (Unless there's some deep hidden good part to him that you want to add, that's up to you.)

Anyone else have any specific questions?


Thank you for joining the thread all of you!
 
The master of the house arose early to a sound of a hurried hollar from one of the men.

"It's the bastard Kings forces! They're on us sir! A messanger from the Cratia said they were allready taken over there. The entire town, wiped out!"

With that the older man pushed himself up immediately from the bed. He knew few men were actually at the encampment and he was getting on in age and a fight would be hard, perhaps they'd be reasonable. There were few to actually protect his family if there was a fight and they would undoubtedly fall.

His wife awoke groggily behind him to see him pulling on his armor and sheathing his sword. Her eyes widen and she puts a hand to his shoulder,

"Love, what's going on."

The touch of her hand on his skin caused him to clench his teeth lightly, the thought of her death, that gentle touch. He couldn't lose his family, but woud he have a choice. He turned to face her taking in a deep breath as he did. Their eyes met and each knew what the other was thinking, in that instant he leaned forward kissing her forehead.

"Go to our daughter."

He turned and headed out gathering up the men to a proboble fight. He came to the large gates raising his chin up proudly he nodded for them to be opened. The land outstretched before them was amass with an army of men and horses. He swallowed but hollared loudly,

"Die with honor men! Die for the true King! King William!"

His men stood their ground, the army would not be reasonable, no pity would be shown, so he raised his sword and prepared for the onslaught.

A girl, Leeandra the servant, was racing towards them in front of the hordes.

"Girl, get in here! Hurry quickly!"

She passed through the gates and he turned to be face to face with the snarl of one of the armed men. With a quick slice of the sword, he imbeded his weapon in the mans torso, jabbing up quickly, the man dropped as he removed his sword.

The battle begun.
 
ooc: If there's still an opening, I'd like to take Wulfgar. I'm not familiar with the book, but our hostess indicates that's not a problem. I'm just unsure still of the relationship between him and Ragnor, etc.

I've written some medieval fight scenes before. You're welcome to check out a sample in the old thread "Quest for Life" at http://www.literotica.com/forum/showthread.php?s=&threadid=27313
 
Leandra ran as swiftly as she could towards the gate her breath coming in short gasps. Finally reaching the thresh hold she headed into town where the other women were huddled all of them shaking with fear and praying for their husbands safe return.
 
Wulfgar

The flies buzzed in an insane swarm ten feet in front of Wulfgar. He sat on the moldy stump and looked at Kether, who looked back without expression. Wulfgar’s stomach growled, and he looked up into the mist. It was starting to lift, it seemed like today would turn clear. He stood and stretched, groaning loudly as his sinews straightened. At a few years past thirty, he knew his time among the mortals was probably short. Few died of old age anyway, not these days. Violent death was an unemotional fact of life. Quickly on the battlefield, slowly from mortal wounds, undignified through the wasting disease; the ways of death were numerous and common. Blood vengeance was another, as was retribution for an insult. Kether knew this now, should have known it before he referred to Wulgar’s abbreviated parentage. He glanced again at Kether, who didn’t know anything now except how it felt to have ones’ head impaled on a stick.

Despite his age, Wulfgar’s long, unkempt hair was still dark. He was nearly 5’11”, tall for his race. His eyes were a watery blue, accented by a white scar that seared from his forehead over his thick nose and down his cheek, making a slash of flesh into the otherwise thick beard. He left the rotting remains and turned back to camp, where his elite forces waited his command to descend on the villages that were even now being softened up by Ragnor and his cronies. Smoke drifted over the camp from the smoldering remains of Cratia and its inhabitants, but the winds would shift soon and everyone’s eyes would stop watering.

He picked up a handful of roast meat of some sort and ate while watching the druids at their morning ritual. This was a simple act of greeting the dawn, and didn’t require any involvement from his fighters. That was fine. They were busy striking camp anyway, preparing for the march across the countryside to catch up with Ragnor’s men. He spit out a piece of gristle. Ragnor. Someone else who should be stuck on a pike. Maybe the gods would have him struck down in battle. King William would still reach the throne without his help, though he was a good fighter, Wulfgar grudgingly conceded. He’d need to keep an eye on the loyalty of Ragnor’s troops. Any wavering of that loyalty in the wrong direction would need to be dealt with harshly. He tossed the chewed bones aside and strode back to his tent.
 
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