Dave ST Posted November 27, 2017 Share Posted November 27, 2017 She was four more days from Kordova and the Black River. To the right, her West, the endless Western Sea stretched on endlessly. The air was damp and the sea spray barely crawled up the cliff face to kiss her skin. Her read hair was pulled back and tied with a leather thong to keep it away and out of her eyes as her sweat mingled and soaked it into wet strands. The weather was hot and she'd been moving for most of the day, jogging mostly and bursting into a faster pace from time to time in order to keep make sure that hew quarry wasn't too far ahead of her. Bithulimon, the man she'd been after for the past four months was not going to escape her this time. His raids on the Vanaheim coast were legendary as were his appetites for their women. While the proud Vanir easily could boast proud warriors of either gender, his targets were the young and the weak. Slaves by the score he'd take from their homeland. Defile them for years and finally either break them or butcher them. When properly broken he'd finally sell them for a profit. Common rumor held that his harem of fiery haired Vanir women was close to twenty and not one had reached her eighteenth winter. It wasn't easy to get this lead, she knew. The man who could get her to Bithulimon was, if stories were to be believed, currently on the wrong side of Zingaran law. She had less than a week to get to Kordova and break him out of prison before they executed him. How was she going to spring him from a Kordovan dungeon? She had no clue. She did have four days to come up with a plan however. She dashed through the brush and sprang over a downed tree, leaping off she continued her stride and slid in the leaves letting her momentum carry her down a muddy slope. With a single leap she crossed a small creek and all the while she never broke her stride. With the caution of a skilled huntress she paused and listened. The wind carried sounds, scents... steel on steel. There was a battle up ahead. She pressed on, keeping her pace slower and the sounds of her movements quieter. She came upon the battle, one man taking on five. More to the point, one man was doing an extraordinary job of evading and parrying the attacks of five men. He was showing signs of fatigue, but still he smirked at them slyly. He was athletically built with corded muscles and bronzed skin that marked him as possibly Argossian. His his hands were a pair of long, curved blades, similar to those used by pirates, seafarers, and some of the eastern cultures. "Gentleman," he said, smiling wide. "I applaud your effort, I do. But come on... we both know I'm not going back to Kordava-" "Alive," one of the men interjected and they all laughed. They were all dressed in Zingaran finery. Their blades were long and thin, with basket hilts designed to deflect and parry aside a barbarians broader blade or axe. Thy appeared to be working for a member of Zingaran nobility. "It's all a misunderstanding, surely not one worthy of an execution," he twirled his swords about, one of them ending backwards, so the blase ran back up the length of his arm. He was preparing to parry some more, the banter was simply to allow him to regain his breath. "How was I supposed to know they were Viscount Cabrera's daughters," he chuckled. "I certainly know I wouldn't crawl into bed with my siblings... so how the four of them ended up in my bed, I assure you, is a complete mystery to me." "And I suppose how they all lost their clothes and purity is all a mystery to you as well, hmm?" Another man snapped. They all held their weapons firmly, the leather of their gloves creaked as they tightened their grip. He man chuckled. "Now, that I actually do remember... I was that drunk. You see we were all well into our cups and Valentina begins doing this vulgar yet pleasant trick with her tongue-" The men all screamed in outrage and rushed the man again. Once more there was the loud clamor of steel on steel. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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