28-07-2012, 05:45 AM
Resounding continued... (too long for one post)
Before him stood Oren, his brother since birth... friend and companion in battle. He was well, a glow of health about him as he leaned upon his Cypress staff. With a gentle smile he looked forward to Asgrim, holding his loves hand. His hair was clean, face soft, almost renewed; and he spoke.
“I have returned to you my brother... with word from our God's who live and walk amongst us in many ways...” His voice was calm and serene and had the peace of a man who held no pain in his heart. In a sudden burst of joy Asgrim rushed forward to take his brother in a rough hug. Pulling him in close to embrace him with outstretched arms. His hug was tight, squeezing hard. Leaning in to hug his brother Oren wrinkled his nose.
“Brother... you stink of sweat and whores...” The two looked at each-other for a period of moments before bursting into laughter. They smiled and continued to laugh before Asgrim bellowed out in a happy order.
“Mead all around, today is a day to celebrate! Drink! Everybody drink!” And with this command the mead was opened and spread around the camp to share. Breakfast was eaten with smiles and laughter, even the children celebrated with candy and games. It truly was a bright morning in the dark valley as the sound of cheerful song and drunken laughter reverberated off of the mountain walls. Throughout the camp the men competed in feats of strength and vitality. The Jarl himself taking personal drinking challenges before his tent. Soon after his challenges began, Sir Joseph William vane stepped forward, goblet in hand.
“I want to challenge you Jarl... I'll show you that Swadian men can drink too!” Joseph spoke with a light voice, almost like that of a child. He smiled and sat on the stool opposite of the Jarl and gingerly set his cup down.
“So be it lad. Get us some mead!” The guards left and right nodded to Asgrim and fetched a barrel of stalwart mead. Thus the competition began, Oren, Marne, and Artisia all looking on as the men competed. One drink, two drinks, three drinks... on and on it went, up to eleven before Joseph, young in his age and inexperienced let out the grumble of a sore belly.
“urghhaaa I don't feel so well” He said weakly just before his stomach spewed forth onto the ground like a mighty geyser. The men burst out laughing as Marne came running to her husband's side, wiping his mustache clean and kissing his face as she consoled him in his loss.
“Swadian Man boys have no place drinking with Nords, let alone a Jarl” Asgrim laughed while helping Joe up from his Knees, his stomach continuing to let loose its honey laden-ed contents.
“Go clean up and we can try again later after you've had some milk, Swadian.” Asgrim slapped him hard on the back and sent him on his way, his wife patting him tenderly as they walked away.
“at least he tried...” Oren chuckled while his love Artisia took a seat, ready to try her hand.
“We drink real alcohol, Khergit spirits; or nothing at all.” Her accented voice spoke plainly to the Jarl And despite his pride, he agreed... willing to best her at her own game. And so, forty and one drinks later the Jarl lie on his back and in bed while Artisia, well beyond drunk staggered around with her lover.
“I had no idea that you could drink so much...” Oren told her with a hint of pleasant surprise.
“Its all in the breasts love!” She replied, leaning onto him for a kiss while placing his palm flat against her chest with a drunken giggle. His face lit up with a smile at his inebriated love, the happy and lighthearted cheers and smiles of the people a welcome change from the dreary war faces that had been around for too long. Feeling hungry the couple made their way to another camp, smelling a sweet confection rising from the wind.
“This looks marvelous, may I ask what you're baking?” Oren asked the woman at the fire.
“My name is Murrow and don't try your nice guy act on me pal...” She spoke plainly as she turned, her forehead adorned with a sun and moon tattoo that interlocked elegantly above green eyes and below spiky and messy brown hair. She was a beautiful girl, well blessed by her mother, but carried herself with a mantle of tough independence.
“If you want something to eat, say it... Don't try to charm your way into anything with me, or you'll know why they call me heat...” She spoke again quickly before turning back to the fire to pull out a rack of heated sweet buns.
“My name is Oren Ash wood and I assure you I'm not here to charm you” He tried to defend himself before his love put a hand to his mouth.
“Don't listen to him. Men are stupid sometimes and should just be silent yes?” She spoke while leaning down to help her with the rack.
“My name is Artisia Derya of the Steppes. I adore your tattoos.” She said, still mostly drunk. She smiled over at Murrow as she placed a bun on a plate and pushed it into Oren's hands.
“eat this love and keep your tongue occupied” She pinched his ass and had him sit down with a coy wink before turning to the girl.
“you have the look of a strong woman... and fighter's hands” She nodded toward the sheathed twin blades leaning against the weapon rack.
“Yes, I am a fighter, and yes I am strong. I know how men tote their ball-sack around as a reason to be tough and I know just how tender their little sacks of 'manliness' are. Keep your boy in line and I won't be forced to show him how truly weak men are...” She said to her combatively while wiping her hands down, revealing her tattooed palms. This girl was taller than most women and rarely wore clothing aside from her leather armor. She appeared young, despite her knowings of how the world truly worked; as apparent by her defensive nature. Artisia admired her for this strength.
“Why are you so combative toward men? Bad experiences?” She inquired while eating with her and casting a look back at Oren telling him to stay quiet.
“yes... men have shown themselves to be quite the burden.” Murrow responded with mirth as she sat upon her chair to eat. Her green eyes watched the Khergit woman with the large breasts; wondering why she walked around with a man when she clearly knew how they operated, having so easily shut this one up and pulled his leash to stay quiet... Perhaps there was people worth her time in this camp Murrow thought.
After a few hours of talking the two women said their good byes and parted ways. The camp continued to celebrate well into the night, dancing, singing, and drinking till most simply passed out in bed with their lovers. It truly was a day of relief and happiness when so many months had been dragging on in sorrowful mire.
To be continued, scene not finished
Before him stood Oren, his brother since birth... friend and companion in battle. He was well, a glow of health about him as he leaned upon his Cypress staff. With a gentle smile he looked forward to Asgrim, holding his loves hand. His hair was clean, face soft, almost renewed; and he spoke.
“I have returned to you my brother... with word from our God's who live and walk amongst us in many ways...” His voice was calm and serene and had the peace of a man who held no pain in his heart. In a sudden burst of joy Asgrim rushed forward to take his brother in a rough hug. Pulling him in close to embrace him with outstretched arms. His hug was tight, squeezing hard. Leaning in to hug his brother Oren wrinkled his nose.
“Brother... you stink of sweat and whores...” The two looked at each-other for a period of moments before bursting into laughter. They smiled and continued to laugh before Asgrim bellowed out in a happy order.
“Mead all around, today is a day to celebrate! Drink! Everybody drink!” And with this command the mead was opened and spread around the camp to share. Breakfast was eaten with smiles and laughter, even the children celebrated with candy and games. It truly was a bright morning in the dark valley as the sound of cheerful song and drunken laughter reverberated off of the mountain walls. Throughout the camp the men competed in feats of strength and vitality. The Jarl himself taking personal drinking challenges before his tent. Soon after his challenges began, Sir Joseph William vane stepped forward, goblet in hand.
“I want to challenge you Jarl... I'll show you that Swadian men can drink too!” Joseph spoke with a light voice, almost like that of a child. He smiled and sat on the stool opposite of the Jarl and gingerly set his cup down.
“So be it lad. Get us some mead!” The guards left and right nodded to Asgrim and fetched a barrel of stalwart mead. Thus the competition began, Oren, Marne, and Artisia all looking on as the men competed. One drink, two drinks, three drinks... on and on it went, up to eleven before Joseph, young in his age and inexperienced let out the grumble of a sore belly.
“urghhaaa I don't feel so well” He said weakly just before his stomach spewed forth onto the ground like a mighty geyser. The men burst out laughing as Marne came running to her husband's side, wiping his mustache clean and kissing his face as she consoled him in his loss.
“Swadian Man boys have no place drinking with Nords, let alone a Jarl” Asgrim laughed while helping Joe up from his Knees, his stomach continuing to let loose its honey laden-ed contents.
“Go clean up and we can try again later after you've had some milk, Swadian.” Asgrim slapped him hard on the back and sent him on his way, his wife patting him tenderly as they walked away.
“at least he tried...” Oren chuckled while his love Artisia took a seat, ready to try her hand.
“We drink real alcohol, Khergit spirits; or nothing at all.” Her accented voice spoke plainly to the Jarl And despite his pride, he agreed... willing to best her at her own game. And so, forty and one drinks later the Jarl lie on his back and in bed while Artisia, well beyond drunk staggered around with her lover.
“I had no idea that you could drink so much...” Oren told her with a hint of pleasant surprise.
“Its all in the breasts love!” She replied, leaning onto him for a kiss while placing his palm flat against her chest with a drunken giggle. His face lit up with a smile at his inebriated love, the happy and lighthearted cheers and smiles of the people a welcome change from the dreary war faces that had been around for too long. Feeling hungry the couple made their way to another camp, smelling a sweet confection rising from the wind.
“This looks marvelous, may I ask what you're baking?” Oren asked the woman at the fire.
“My name is Murrow and don't try your nice guy act on me pal...” She spoke plainly as she turned, her forehead adorned with a sun and moon tattoo that interlocked elegantly above green eyes and below spiky and messy brown hair. She was a beautiful girl, well blessed by her mother, but carried herself with a mantle of tough independence.
“If you want something to eat, say it... Don't try to charm your way into anything with me, or you'll know why they call me heat...” She spoke again quickly before turning back to the fire to pull out a rack of heated sweet buns.
“My name is Oren Ash wood and I assure you I'm not here to charm you” He tried to defend himself before his love put a hand to his mouth.
“Don't listen to him. Men are stupid sometimes and should just be silent yes?” She spoke while leaning down to help her with the rack.
“My name is Artisia Derya of the Steppes. I adore your tattoos.” She said, still mostly drunk. She smiled over at Murrow as she placed a bun on a plate and pushed it into Oren's hands.
“eat this love and keep your tongue occupied” She pinched his ass and had him sit down with a coy wink before turning to the girl.
“you have the look of a strong woman... and fighter's hands” She nodded toward the sheathed twin blades leaning against the weapon rack.
“Yes, I am a fighter, and yes I am strong. I know how men tote their ball-sack around as a reason to be tough and I know just how tender their little sacks of 'manliness' are. Keep your boy in line and I won't be forced to show him how truly weak men are...” She said to her combatively while wiping her hands down, revealing her tattooed palms. This girl was taller than most women and rarely wore clothing aside from her leather armor. She appeared young, despite her knowings of how the world truly worked; as apparent by her defensive nature. Artisia admired her for this strength.
“Why are you so combative toward men? Bad experiences?” She inquired while eating with her and casting a look back at Oren telling him to stay quiet.
“yes... men have shown themselves to be quite the burden.” Murrow responded with mirth as she sat upon her chair to eat. Her green eyes watched the Khergit woman with the large breasts; wondering why she walked around with a man when she clearly knew how they operated, having so easily shut this one up and pulled his leash to stay quiet... Perhaps there was people worth her time in this camp Murrow thought.
After a few hours of talking the two women said their good byes and parted ways. The camp continued to celebrate well into the night, dancing, singing, and drinking till most simply passed out in bed with their lovers. It truly was a day of relief and happiness when so many months had been dragging on in sorrowful mire.
To be continued, scene not finished