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Fantasy Help Me Make the Most of Freedom, and of Pleasure [Main]
Jean Otus
Would-Be Prince
“Die, whoreson!” Sharp pain in his side, one which spurred him to act. Sidestepping the soldier’s next spear thrust he pounced, driving his sword deep into the man’s chest. Poor bastard hadn’t even a piece of leather to guard himself. Probably some poor peasant levy. Damnable luck. Drawing his sword out he wiped it on the man’s gambeson before tossing him to the ground. Placing his foot on one end and lifting sharply on the other, he snapped the spearpoint off its haft. Normally he’d leave it intact so it could be looted and sold later, but this battle would not allow such a thing. Normally he’d have spared the poor infantryman too so that he could be ransomed back to his side.
Matheus decided he could pity the poor husband, son, or father he had skewered later. Now was the time to focus on survival. The battle had turned into a frenzy when the crux of their strategy, a volley of fireballs from this lord’s supposedly godlike mages failed to arrive. Without that support, the enemy had surged forward into their allies’ center. A desperate defense had left both armies scattered in amongst one another. Now it was a matter of individual skill that decided who lived or died, and whichever side could rally their men together at the end could claim a pyrrhic victory. That damn lord would pay dearly for this blunder.
For now, though, Matheus needed to join up with the rest of his band, trying to cooperate with any of the lord’s army would be pointless. Most of the force had been made up of the same sort of peasant levy he’d just killed, untrained and all too quick to rush in or flee. His eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of the green standard the Band of the Bronze Ox marched into battle under. It was all a sea of bodies, standing, fighting, dead, without a hint of organization. In this state it wasn’t even possible to tell where one would retreat to, every man was just trying to kill the soldiers they didn’t recognize. Dammit! This wasn’t even war anymore it was just a senseless slaughter.
Steeling himself, Matheus dove into the fray. At least if he found a fellow ox, he could join up with them. With any luck, they would mostly be nearby. Without any luck, they would be just as scattered as everyone else. It seemed to come back to luck far too often. He was too reliant on things outside of his control. Maybe if he survived this, he’d start visiting the church now and again to pray for some luck. He chuckled to himself at the thought. It quickly became a cough as he wove amongst the clusters of fighting men, looking for a familiar face.
Instead, he found another peasant infantryman, frothing at the mouth and looking for a fight. Matheus had the choice of obliging him or risking a stab in the back from his spear if he tried to disengage. He dropped into a fighting stance, sword and buckler at the ready. At least he had seen this one coming.
The man lunged at his stomach with the spear, a predictable, amateur attack befitting of a peasant levy. Matheus deflected it with his buckler, directing the blow up above him to draw his enemy off balance. He then stepped in and delivered a slash across the man’s chest, not deep enough though. He felt his blade strike bone and bounce across. The peasant took the opportunity and drew a crude dagger from his belt, lunging up at Matheus and lodging his blade into the mercenary’s left arm.
He screamed in pain, weaving a tapestry of profanity that mixed in with the chaos of the battlefield. As he did, he delivered his second strike, this time across the peasant’s neck. The man fell to the ground, blood soaking the ground where he fell as it gurgled out of his veins. Matheus did not even take the time to wipe his blade clean or to think about the fallen man or his weapons. Instead, he spat on the corpse.
“Like a damn cornered rat, tenacious shit!” Matheus staggered away, the dagger still protruding from his arm. Now finding his band was critical. He was running out of stamina fast. He tested his left arm and found that he could at least raise it halfway. It would be good for a low guard then, but not much else.
Suddenly he was among them. The green tunics, gambesons, and tabards of his comrades. He’d staggered right into their formation. The captain was nowhere to be found, but he was sure she was holding her own just fine. He joined the line alongside a long, thin man with caramel colored skin and dark hair. This man, Mustafa, was their greatest polearm fighter, a good friend of Matheus, and a good man to stand with if you want the enemy kept at a comfortable distance.
“You’re looking a little worse for wear, friend.” Mustafa taunted, shifting his stance to the left as to guard his ally.
“You’re none better. Where’d you pick up that?” Matheus retorted, referencing the bloody scratch on his friend’s forehead.
“A fascinating tale, I’ll tell you over a mug onc- oh god here he comes.” Mustafa’s tone shifted as he gestured with the end of his glaive. On the receiving end of the gesture was a man a good three heads taller than any other in the army, wielding an ax the looked like it was meant for butchering livestock as opposed to men. Johan the Giant, a legend making a rare appearance and stalking directly at them.
Matheus coughed out a ragged breath, a few droplets of blood escaping. “High and low then?”
“As good as anything now. I’ll see you on the other side, brother.” Mustafa affirmed with grim determination.
The pair lunged forward, Mustafa swinging the bladed edge of his glaive at the giant’s neck, while Matheus ducked under and looked to stab at a weak point in his armor. The monstrous man caught the high strike with the blade of his own weapon and countered the low approach with a massive sweep of the heavy pommel at the base of his ax. Mustafa was able to jump back into the line, returning to position to strike again. Matheus was not so lucky. The pommel struck him squarely on the head. It dented his steel helmet and sending him flying over the heads of his allies. He barely had time to react before he landed on the ground and blacked out.
From there he flitted in and out of consciousness. First, he was laying in the mud and grass of the battlefield. Then he was on the back of a cart, and the sky was orange. At last, he felt himself being sat up against something stone. It was dark around him, and there was a coolness to the air. Before he blacked out again, he heard the stern voice of the captain.
“Leave him. The sisters will know what to do with him. If not, they can at least give him a blessed burial.” With that followed the sound of footsteps traveled away from him and he faded from consciousness once more. There he sat in the cool evening air, in the doorway of a temple, with a note pinned to his front reading.
“Wounded beyond our care. Do with him as you will. Five gold pieces in right boot for the trouble. -Maria of the Bronze Ox”
calypso
Matheus decided he could pity the poor husband, son, or father he had skewered later. Now was the time to focus on survival. The battle had turned into a frenzy when the crux of their strategy, a volley of fireballs from this lord’s supposedly godlike mages failed to arrive. Without that support, the enemy had surged forward into their allies’ center. A desperate defense had left both armies scattered in amongst one another. Now it was a matter of individual skill that decided who lived or died, and whichever side could rally their men together at the end could claim a pyrrhic victory. That damn lord would pay dearly for this blunder.
For now, though, Matheus needed to join up with the rest of his band, trying to cooperate with any of the lord’s army would be pointless. Most of the force had been made up of the same sort of peasant levy he’d just killed, untrained and all too quick to rush in or flee. His eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of the green standard the Band of the Bronze Ox marched into battle under. It was all a sea of bodies, standing, fighting, dead, without a hint of organization. In this state it wasn’t even possible to tell where one would retreat to, every man was just trying to kill the soldiers they didn’t recognize. Dammit! This wasn’t even war anymore it was just a senseless slaughter.
Steeling himself, Matheus dove into the fray. At least if he found a fellow ox, he could join up with them. With any luck, they would mostly be nearby. Without any luck, they would be just as scattered as everyone else. It seemed to come back to luck far too often. He was too reliant on things outside of his control. Maybe if he survived this, he’d start visiting the church now and again to pray for some luck. He chuckled to himself at the thought. It quickly became a cough as he wove amongst the clusters of fighting men, looking for a familiar face.
Instead, he found another peasant infantryman, frothing at the mouth and looking for a fight. Matheus had the choice of obliging him or risking a stab in the back from his spear if he tried to disengage. He dropped into a fighting stance, sword and buckler at the ready. At least he had seen this one coming.
The man lunged at his stomach with the spear, a predictable, amateur attack befitting of a peasant levy. Matheus deflected it with his buckler, directing the blow up above him to draw his enemy off balance. He then stepped in and delivered a slash across the man’s chest, not deep enough though. He felt his blade strike bone and bounce across. The peasant took the opportunity and drew a crude dagger from his belt, lunging up at Matheus and lodging his blade into the mercenary’s left arm.
He screamed in pain, weaving a tapestry of profanity that mixed in with the chaos of the battlefield. As he did, he delivered his second strike, this time across the peasant’s neck. The man fell to the ground, blood soaking the ground where he fell as it gurgled out of his veins. Matheus did not even take the time to wipe his blade clean or to think about the fallen man or his weapons. Instead, he spat on the corpse.
“Like a damn cornered rat, tenacious shit!” Matheus staggered away, the dagger still protruding from his arm. Now finding his band was critical. He was running out of stamina fast. He tested his left arm and found that he could at least raise it halfway. It would be good for a low guard then, but not much else.
Suddenly he was among them. The green tunics, gambesons, and tabards of his comrades. He’d staggered right into their formation. The captain was nowhere to be found, but he was sure she was holding her own just fine. He joined the line alongside a long, thin man with caramel colored skin and dark hair. This man, Mustafa, was their greatest polearm fighter, a good friend of Matheus, and a good man to stand with if you want the enemy kept at a comfortable distance.
“You’re looking a little worse for wear, friend.” Mustafa taunted, shifting his stance to the left as to guard his ally.
“You’re none better. Where’d you pick up that?” Matheus retorted, referencing the bloody scratch on his friend’s forehead.
“A fascinating tale, I’ll tell you over a mug onc- oh god here he comes.” Mustafa’s tone shifted as he gestured with the end of his glaive. On the receiving end of the gesture was a man a good three heads taller than any other in the army, wielding an ax the looked like it was meant for butchering livestock as opposed to men. Johan the Giant, a legend making a rare appearance and stalking directly at them.
Matheus coughed out a ragged breath, a few droplets of blood escaping. “High and low then?”
“As good as anything now. I’ll see you on the other side, brother.” Mustafa affirmed with grim determination.
The pair lunged forward, Mustafa swinging the bladed edge of his glaive at the giant’s neck, while Matheus ducked under and looked to stab at a weak point in his armor. The monstrous man caught the high strike with the blade of his own weapon and countered the low approach with a massive sweep of the heavy pommel at the base of his ax. Mustafa was able to jump back into the line, returning to position to strike again. Matheus was not so lucky. The pommel struck him squarely on the head. It dented his steel helmet and sending him flying over the heads of his allies. He barely had time to react before he landed on the ground and blacked out.
From there he flitted in and out of consciousness. First, he was laying in the mud and grass of the battlefield. Then he was on the back of a cart, and the sky was orange. At last, he felt himself being sat up against something stone. It was dark around him, and there was a coolness to the air. Before he blacked out again, he heard the stern voice of the captain.
“Leave him. The sisters will know what to do with him. If not, they can at least give him a blessed burial.” With that followed the sound of footsteps traveled away from him and he faded from consciousness once more. There he sat in the cool evening air, in the doorway of a temple, with a note pinned to his front reading.
“Wounded beyond our care. Do with him as you will. Five gold pieces in right boot for the trouble. -Maria of the Bronze Ox”
calypso
calypso
fairest
[div class=mainCon][div class=header]Crescenta Oberlin[/div][div class=contentWrap][div class=scrollWrap][div class=textWrap]
Crescenta hadn't believed Celena when the girl came skittering into her chambers, sprouting nonsense about a 'rather ugly woman on the temple steps.' It was already growing late in the evening, and Crescenta didn't want to exactly waste her candle to look at ugly women. But the younger priestess insisted, and soon the sound of bare feet pattering on stones was sounding through the quiet temple halls.
"I don't believe this," she muttered to Celena, tugging up her white hood a bit higher on her head. She should of slipped on something more than her nightgown, given the cool air of the Temple. "There's no way there's an ugly woman just sitting on the steps on the Temple, how'd she even find it? It's probably just Callisto," she added with a snicker, though Celena was quick to give her a shove in response.
"No, you simply don't understand! She's the ugliest woman I've ever seen, there's hair on her face! Her hair is all cropped short, and I don't think she even had br-" Celena suddenly staggered to a stop, with Crescenta nearly barreling into the young girl from behind. A grunt of anger was heard, but they had arrived at the entrance of the Temple. The younger priestess had gone silent, her green eyes trained on the form slumped over on the steps. Pushing around the girl, Crescenta opened her lips in protest.
"It's too cold out right now, we should just..." As she spoke, her eyes slowly shifted over to the 'woman' on the steps. Any protest vanished from her lips, and not long after, she was taking slow steps down the stairs. Celena let out a slight gasp and squeal behind her, but she was close on her tail. "See, I told you! Look how ugly she is! Hair on her face, disg-"
A loud shush sounded from Crescenta, a frustrated glance shot back towards the priestess. Celena quickly sealed her lips, while Crescenta moved to poke the form with an extended leg. The push was a bit much, causing the 'woman' to barely shift. A yelp sounded, and Crescenta jumped back on one leg. "Is she dead? Oh my goodness, did I just kill her? No, no, she's breathing." A sigh of relief sounded as Crescenta slowly lowered her leg, before her eyes dropped down to the stone under the form. A confused look overtook her shrouded face, before she slowly leaned down to get close. Celena squeaked out a warning, but Crescenta was already pressing her finger down into the pool of blood forming under the 'woman.'
"She's injured. Go get some other girls, but don't tell Madame!" She whisper-shouted to Celena, who widened her eyes in shock. For a few seconds, she didn't move. "Well? What are you waiting for! Go, before I smack you!" She snapped, and the young girl scurried back inside. Turning her attention back to Matheus, Crescenta furrowed her brows together.
"You really are the ugliest woman I've ever seen. No offense to you, of course, but you're probably aware of such a thing. Well, don't worry a thing, ugly lady. You'll likely survive, we're good at this sort of thing," she muttered, moving around the form to push them upright. A slight sniff sounded from the young woman, before she gagged at the stench of blood and unwashed man. "Oh good god, you poor thing. Do you not know how to bathe?" She chastised the unconscious, nearly dead 'woman,' before the sound of several pattering feet was heard. Her pointed ears barely flicked upward under her hood, and around six similarly clad girls appeared. Nearly breathless, they took one look at Matheus and gave the same reaction. Of course, Crescenta snapped at them all the same, and soon they were heaving up Matheus and hauling him inside the Temple.
The next hour or so was a mix of curiosity and disgust from the girls. Naturally, they undressed the 'woman' to properly see all her wounds. All of the girls there had seen each other, and even dressed each others wounds, so this was little to no deal. Of course, they all ended up shrieking when they removed his undergarments and a towel was thrown over his most sensitive area. How disgusting was that thing! The girls continued to chatter and whisper with each other, prodding and poking at his arms and chest as he laid there unconscious. It was only a matter of time until he came back around. Crescenta was one of the girls peering at the man, her wide blue eyes directly over his face.
"See, I just don't understand. It doesn't have any breasts, and it's growing hair right on it's chin. Come feel it! It's so rough, though the hair on it's head is much softer," she said to the girl next to her, one hand stroking thoughtfully at Matheus's own beard. The priestess, Ophelia, just nodded as Crescenta continued to explain her findings. "And its nose! So big and broad, isn't that odd? Do you think it's better at smelling things?"
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Interactions: Matheus; Various Temple Girls
Mentions:
Jean Otus
[/div][/div][/div]
Crescenta hadn't believed Celena when the girl came skittering into her chambers, sprouting nonsense about a 'rather ugly woman on the temple steps.' It was already growing late in the evening, and Crescenta didn't want to exactly waste her candle to look at ugly women. But the younger priestess insisted, and soon the sound of bare feet pattering on stones was sounding through the quiet temple halls.
"I don't believe this," she muttered to Celena, tugging up her white hood a bit higher on her head. She should of slipped on something more than her nightgown, given the cool air of the Temple. "There's no way there's an ugly woman just sitting on the steps on the Temple, how'd she even find it? It's probably just Callisto," she added with a snicker, though Celena was quick to give her a shove in response.
"No, you simply don't understand! She's the ugliest woman I've ever seen, there's hair on her face! Her hair is all cropped short, and I don't think she even had br-" Celena suddenly staggered to a stop, with Crescenta nearly barreling into the young girl from behind. A grunt of anger was heard, but they had arrived at the entrance of the Temple. The younger priestess had gone silent, her green eyes trained on the form slumped over on the steps. Pushing around the girl, Crescenta opened her lips in protest.
"It's too cold out right now, we should just..." As she spoke, her eyes slowly shifted over to the 'woman' on the steps. Any protest vanished from her lips, and not long after, she was taking slow steps down the stairs. Celena let out a slight gasp and squeal behind her, but she was close on her tail. "See, I told you! Look how ugly she is! Hair on her face, disg-"
A loud shush sounded from Crescenta, a frustrated glance shot back towards the priestess. Celena quickly sealed her lips, while Crescenta moved to poke the form with an extended leg. The push was a bit much, causing the 'woman' to barely shift. A yelp sounded, and Crescenta jumped back on one leg. "Is she dead? Oh my goodness, did I just kill her? No, no, she's breathing." A sigh of relief sounded as Crescenta slowly lowered her leg, before her eyes dropped down to the stone under the form. A confused look overtook her shrouded face, before she slowly leaned down to get close. Celena squeaked out a warning, but Crescenta was already pressing her finger down into the pool of blood forming under the 'woman.'
"She's injured. Go get some other girls, but don't tell Madame!" She whisper-shouted to Celena, who widened her eyes in shock. For a few seconds, she didn't move. "Well? What are you waiting for! Go, before I smack you!" She snapped, and the young girl scurried back inside. Turning her attention back to Matheus, Crescenta furrowed her brows together.
"You really are the ugliest woman I've ever seen. No offense to you, of course, but you're probably aware of such a thing. Well, don't worry a thing, ugly lady. You'll likely survive, we're good at this sort of thing," she muttered, moving around the form to push them upright. A slight sniff sounded from the young woman, before she gagged at the stench of blood and unwashed man. "Oh good god, you poor thing. Do you not know how to bathe?" She chastised the unconscious, nearly dead 'woman,' before the sound of several pattering feet was heard. Her pointed ears barely flicked upward under her hood, and around six similarly clad girls appeared. Nearly breathless, they took one look at Matheus and gave the same reaction. Of course, Crescenta snapped at them all the same, and soon they were heaving up Matheus and hauling him inside the Temple.
The next hour or so was a mix of curiosity and disgust from the girls. Naturally, they undressed the 'woman' to properly see all her wounds. All of the girls there had seen each other, and even dressed each others wounds, so this was little to no deal. Of course, they all ended up shrieking when they removed his undergarments and a towel was thrown over his most sensitive area. How disgusting was that thing! The girls continued to chatter and whisper with each other, prodding and poking at his arms and chest as he laid there unconscious. It was only a matter of time until he came back around. Crescenta was one of the girls peering at the man, her wide blue eyes directly over his face.
"See, I just don't understand. It doesn't have any breasts, and it's growing hair right on it's chin. Come feel it! It's so rough, though the hair on it's head is much softer," she said to the girl next to her, one hand stroking thoughtfully at Matheus's own beard. The priestess, Ophelia, just nodded as Crescenta continued to explain her findings. "And its nose! So big and broad, isn't that odd? Do you think it's better at smelling things?"
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[/div][div class=tagBox]Location: SickroomInteractions: Matheus; Various Temple Girls
Mentions:
Jean Otus
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Jean Otus
Would-Be Prince
For the first time in a long while, Matheus felt truly helpless. He could not feel anything but the pain of his wounds, which in his state seemed the only definition space had. One side of his body was searing with pain, while the other was not, and the fogginess in his head told him if he only turned over then he would be away from the pain and he could finally sleep. But of course, there was no way he could turn over, and no way he could sleep, suspended as he was in the dreamlike ether of this dying state.
He wondered if this was what death was, aimlessly floating with the only solid definition being the wounds that killed him. Perhaps this was what it was to be a ghost? Perhaps now at this moment, his spirit was floating about the spot where he died, clutching at its wounds and terrifying passersby. Likely not, as he was thinking now. Could the dead think or feel pain? He was thinking and feeling now, yet he could not confirm whether he was living or dead. If he was not dead then surely, he was nearly dead, after the blows he had taken.
It was the ideal time then to reflect on the life he was leaving behind. He reminisced about the ten years he had spent as a man of the Bronze Ox. Though he had been just a little whelp when he joined, he had risen to the task of training himself to be a capable member of the band. Ten years of fighting shoulder to shoulder with trusted comrades, some of whom he had sent off at funerals. Death was a constantly lurking specter to mercenaries, no beating around that. There had been good times too, though. When the coin ran like water into the band’s coffers and the men were allowed to visit the inns and taverns of a hosting city or town. In those times he had drunk deeply, ate well, and shared a bed with many fine women. Yes, in dying he would miss those times greatly.
But the captain had ordered the men to leave him. His life in the band was over. In a way that was relieving. Now there was no one for him to keep on living for. His comrades had left him, his way of life was gone. He could let go of this life knowing that much. With that revelation, he felt a tugging sensation, as if he were finally being pulled down to the underworld. With tender satisfaction, he gave into that tugging feeling which brought him down to earth.
For a moment he was confused, he had given in to the feeling, yet he was not dead. In fact, he felt more alive than he had before. He could still feel the pain from his wounds, and now there were other sensations too. Being dead shouldn’t hurt this much, and it was surprisingly drafty, as if a wind was blowing up his trousers and across his nether regions. That was certainly the strangest thing of all.
Matheus realized that he had regained control over some of his functions. With no small amount of willpower and a good deal of pain, he pried his eyelids open. At first, the flood of light forced his eyes shut again, but once they had gotten used to their function again, they fluttered open on their own.
What he found in front of him was the farthest thing from what he had been expecting. Crowding his field of vision were the faces of several young women, who looked and pointed at his face with rapt curiosity.
Like any sensible man in that situation, he panicked. Letting out a terrified scream he attempted to run, only to find that he was lying on his back and that his legs did not wish to move. He then attempted to roll away, to find that his left side only cried out in pain when he moved. As such he could only awkwardly shift half of his body off of the table he had been laid on. In doing so he felt the shifting of fabric, and upon looking down across his body discovered that he was quite naked, with only a cloth thrown across his lower parts.
Attempting a brave expression, he glared up at his captors. “What do you want with me wenches? Why am I naked?”
calypso
He wondered if this was what death was, aimlessly floating with the only solid definition being the wounds that killed him. Perhaps this was what it was to be a ghost? Perhaps now at this moment, his spirit was floating about the spot where he died, clutching at its wounds and terrifying passersby. Likely not, as he was thinking now. Could the dead think or feel pain? He was thinking and feeling now, yet he could not confirm whether he was living or dead. If he was not dead then surely, he was nearly dead, after the blows he had taken.
It was the ideal time then to reflect on the life he was leaving behind. He reminisced about the ten years he had spent as a man of the Bronze Ox. Though he had been just a little whelp when he joined, he had risen to the task of training himself to be a capable member of the band. Ten years of fighting shoulder to shoulder with trusted comrades, some of whom he had sent off at funerals. Death was a constantly lurking specter to mercenaries, no beating around that. There had been good times too, though. When the coin ran like water into the band’s coffers and the men were allowed to visit the inns and taverns of a hosting city or town. In those times he had drunk deeply, ate well, and shared a bed with many fine women. Yes, in dying he would miss those times greatly.
But the captain had ordered the men to leave him. His life in the band was over. In a way that was relieving. Now there was no one for him to keep on living for. His comrades had left him, his way of life was gone. He could let go of this life knowing that much. With that revelation, he felt a tugging sensation, as if he were finally being pulled down to the underworld. With tender satisfaction, he gave into that tugging feeling which brought him down to earth.
For a moment he was confused, he had given in to the feeling, yet he was not dead. In fact, he felt more alive than he had before. He could still feel the pain from his wounds, and now there were other sensations too. Being dead shouldn’t hurt this much, and it was surprisingly drafty, as if a wind was blowing up his trousers and across his nether regions. That was certainly the strangest thing of all.
Matheus realized that he had regained control over some of his functions. With no small amount of willpower and a good deal of pain, he pried his eyelids open. At first, the flood of light forced his eyes shut again, but once they had gotten used to their function again, they fluttered open on their own.
What he found in front of him was the farthest thing from what he had been expecting. Crowding his field of vision were the faces of several young women, who looked and pointed at his face with rapt curiosity.
Like any sensible man in that situation, he panicked. Letting out a terrified scream he attempted to run, only to find that he was lying on his back and that his legs did not wish to move. He then attempted to roll away, to find that his left side only cried out in pain when he moved. As such he could only awkwardly shift half of his body off of the table he had been laid on. In doing so he felt the shifting of fabric, and upon looking down across his body discovered that he was quite naked, with only a cloth thrown across his lower parts.
Attempting a brave expression, he glared up at his captors. “What do you want with me wenches? Why am I naked?”
calypso
calypso
fairest
[div class=mainCon][div class=header]Crescenta Oberlin[/div][div class=contentWrap][div class=scrollWrap][div class=textWrap]
Crescenta had been thoughtfully running her slender fingers through Matheus's hair when his eyes slowly peeled open. She was attempting to make a hushed point to the girl next to her, but the panicked deep scream that sounded caused both of the young priestesses to scream in retaliation. In fact, every woman in the room was suddenly screaming and leaping away from him. One had been wrapping the wound on his arm, another carefully checking over any nicks or scratches on his legs. Celena had been preparing a tea across the room, and even she stopped to scream and drop the teacup to the floor.
The girls all instantly stumbled backwards and away from the nude man, though Crescenta was promptly shoved to the front of the group as she was the current 'leader.' Why, she brought this thing into their temple! She'd be the one to deal with it, of course. Each girl still had their hoods pulled up high, though their features were barely visible in the dull lighting. Leaning forward, some of them whispered rapidly at Crescenta. She only shooed with them with a dismissive wave, before she raised both hands up slowly to her hood. Her fingers slowly curled around the white fabric, before she tugged it back to reveal her full features. Slightly tangled silver locks, and fiercely determined blue eyes. However, if Matheus was good at reading people, he'd be able to easily tell it was a front. Her fingers were barely shaking, and there was a slight quiver to her lower lip.
Even more so, her obviously pointed ears were tilted downward a bit. Pointed ears.
"U-Uh, strange creature," she began, and some girls muttered their shushed approval. So far, so good. "You were delivered to our Temple steps injured, and we are attempting to heal you. Whatever...you are," she muttered, dropping her gaze down to his chest. Or, his lack of a chest in her sense. Stepping forward slowly, Crescenta kept her hands raised up. At this point, she was just assuming he was some weird wild animal that happened to somewhat look human and speak the common tongue. "Do not be afraid, thing. We are somewhat good at this, though we'd be better if you didn't scream at us," she added on, and more of the girls muttered their agreement.
More of them began to remove their hoods at this point, revealing different skin tones and hair hues. Though one thing remained the same-- They all possesed pointed ears like Crescenta. And slowly but surely, they were approaching him again. They naturally moved to form a circle around the young man, peering down at him with an overall curious gaze. Snatches of conversations were heard and muttered, the girls careful to whisper to each other.
"Did it call us a wench? How rude..."
"It looks so odd naked, imagine having no breasts and hair there instead!"
"Should we tell Madame?"
At the last statement, Crescenta quickly interrupted the two girls. "No! Don't tell Madame, not yet. We don't even know what it is, much less if we can trust it," she said, casting a suspicious glance at Matheus like he couldn't understand her. "We should just heal it, then knock it back out again. How does that sound, strange creature? We can cover your little butt and whatever the hell is hanging off your front right back up and it'll be much better." She asked excitedly, turning her attention over to Matheus again with a forced smile. At this point, it was safe to assume these girls thought he was more or less an animal.
Though he was obviously just a man. But these were girls with pointed ears and strange robes, so perhaps...Something strange was going on.
[/div][/div][/div][div class=footer]
Interactions: Matheus; Various Temple Girls
Mentions:
Jean Otus
[/div][/div][/div]
Crescenta had been thoughtfully running her slender fingers through Matheus's hair when his eyes slowly peeled open. She was attempting to make a hushed point to the girl next to her, but the panicked deep scream that sounded caused both of the young priestesses to scream in retaliation. In fact, every woman in the room was suddenly screaming and leaping away from him. One had been wrapping the wound on his arm, another carefully checking over any nicks or scratches on his legs. Celena had been preparing a tea across the room, and even she stopped to scream and drop the teacup to the floor.
The girls all instantly stumbled backwards and away from the nude man, though Crescenta was promptly shoved to the front of the group as she was the current 'leader.' Why, she brought this thing into their temple! She'd be the one to deal with it, of course. Each girl still had their hoods pulled up high, though their features were barely visible in the dull lighting. Leaning forward, some of them whispered rapidly at Crescenta. She only shooed with them with a dismissive wave, before she raised both hands up slowly to her hood. Her fingers slowly curled around the white fabric, before she tugged it back to reveal her full features. Slightly tangled silver locks, and fiercely determined blue eyes. However, if Matheus was good at reading people, he'd be able to easily tell it was a front. Her fingers were barely shaking, and there was a slight quiver to her lower lip.
Even more so, her obviously pointed ears were tilted downward a bit. Pointed ears.
"U-Uh, strange creature," she began, and some girls muttered their shushed approval. So far, so good. "You were delivered to our Temple steps injured, and we are attempting to heal you. Whatever...you are," she muttered, dropping her gaze down to his chest. Or, his lack of a chest in her sense. Stepping forward slowly, Crescenta kept her hands raised up. At this point, she was just assuming he was some weird wild animal that happened to somewhat look human and speak the common tongue. "Do not be afraid, thing. We are somewhat good at this, though we'd be better if you didn't scream at us," she added on, and more of the girls muttered their agreement.
More of them began to remove their hoods at this point, revealing different skin tones and hair hues. Though one thing remained the same-- They all possesed pointed ears like Crescenta. And slowly but surely, they were approaching him again. They naturally moved to form a circle around the young man, peering down at him with an overall curious gaze. Snatches of conversations were heard and muttered, the girls careful to whisper to each other.
"Did it call us a wench? How rude..."
"It looks so odd naked, imagine having no breasts and hair there instead!"
"Should we tell Madame?"
At the last statement, Crescenta quickly interrupted the two girls. "No! Don't tell Madame, not yet. We don't even know what it is, much less if we can trust it," she said, casting a suspicious glance at Matheus like he couldn't understand her. "We should just heal it, then knock it back out again. How does that sound, strange creature? We can cover your little butt and whatever the hell is hanging off your front right back up and it'll be much better." She asked excitedly, turning her attention over to Matheus again with a forced smile. At this point, it was safe to assume these girls thought he was more or less an animal.
Though he was obviously just a man. But these were girls with pointed ears and strange robes, so perhaps...Something strange was going on.
[/div][/div][/div][div class=footer]
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[/div][div class=tagBox]Location: SickroomInteractions: Matheus; Various Temple Girls
Mentions:
Jean Otus
[/div][/div][/div]code by RI.a
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Jean Otus
Would-Be Prince
Matheus blinked twice, trying to absorb what he had just been told as the pain from his wounds continued to prod at his side. A lot had just been revealed to him, from the fact that these young women had pointed ears like some kind of elves. But that couldn’t be the case, the elves were a myth, or at the very least long dead. If they or some of their descendants were still alive, what would that mean? Why would lords employ hack mages if the vestiges of a superior magical breed walked amongst the people of the kingdoms? What was this temple, and why had he never heard of it?
Beyond that, Matheus was stunned by the fact that the young woman standing above him apparently had no idea of what a man was. She called him a beast, and a thing and her eyes kept flitting to his bare chest as if it was the first time she had seen anything like it. As the other girls also began to speak up, it quickly became clear that none of these young women had ever seen a man or even knew of their existence. Another pain in his side gave a fresh breath of clarity to his addled brain. This must be some sort of cloistered convent, a holy school where women could learn away from the sins of men.
With that realization, the beleaguered mercenary sighed deeply, sinking back down on the table. His previous state of panic evaporated as he realized that he had not been captured by the likes of enemy soldiers, but instead a bunch of nuns. While he appreciated the chance to be healed by these women, who were no doubt skilled, he would have preferred to receive treatment in a place more aligned with his ideology. Recovering from his injuries in a place not so starved of his favorite sins, lust, and debauchery. Those things would certainly ease his suffering and get him back on his feet sooner.
Instead, he was now in a sexless, drinkless place full of people who were not allowed to leave and see the world. Matheus lifted his good hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, which were surprisingly tired in spite of his recent awakening. At least it would be quiet, without the clang of steel and the screams of battle he might be able to have the peace of mind to think on where to take his life now. Without trying to hide his exasperation Matheus spoke up, trying to keep an even tone.
“Thank you, sisters, I’m sorry for screaming at you. Once I am fully healed this humble MAN will leave you all in peace.” With that, the blood rush from the initial panic began to fully subside, and with it went much of his energy. His breathing evened out and he fixed his eyes on the ceiling above. Perhaps this would be the opportunity he had considered before. Maybe now he would get the chance to pray for the luck he had been so lacking in. Not likely, he cracked a small smile at the thought of himself praying.
calypso
Beyond that, Matheus was stunned by the fact that the young woman standing above him apparently had no idea of what a man was. She called him a beast, and a thing and her eyes kept flitting to his bare chest as if it was the first time she had seen anything like it. As the other girls also began to speak up, it quickly became clear that none of these young women had ever seen a man or even knew of their existence. Another pain in his side gave a fresh breath of clarity to his addled brain. This must be some sort of cloistered convent, a holy school where women could learn away from the sins of men.
With that realization, the beleaguered mercenary sighed deeply, sinking back down on the table. His previous state of panic evaporated as he realized that he had not been captured by the likes of enemy soldiers, but instead a bunch of nuns. While he appreciated the chance to be healed by these women, who were no doubt skilled, he would have preferred to receive treatment in a place more aligned with his ideology. Recovering from his injuries in a place not so starved of his favorite sins, lust, and debauchery. Those things would certainly ease his suffering and get him back on his feet sooner.
Instead, he was now in a sexless, drinkless place full of people who were not allowed to leave and see the world. Matheus lifted his good hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, which were surprisingly tired in spite of his recent awakening. At least it would be quiet, without the clang of steel and the screams of battle he might be able to have the peace of mind to think on where to take his life now. Without trying to hide his exasperation Matheus spoke up, trying to keep an even tone.
“Thank you, sisters, I’m sorry for screaming at you. Once I am fully healed this humble MAN will leave you all in peace.” With that, the blood rush from the initial panic began to fully subside, and with it went much of his energy. His breathing evened out and he fixed his eyes on the ceiling above. Perhaps this would be the opportunity he had considered before. Maybe now he would get the chance to pray for the luck he had been so lacking in. Not likely, he cracked a small smile at the thought of himself praying.
calypso
calypso
fairest
[div class=mainCon][div class=header]Crescenta Oberlin[/div][div class=contentWrap][div class=scrollWrap][div class=textWrap]
At the mention and emphasis of the word 'man,' each girl began to suddenly mutter with each other. A shorter girl with coily hair tugged on the arm of Crescenta, and she turned her attention away from Matheus to her. Her head ducked down, and a quick exchange of whispers occurred between the two young girls. A suspicious look was tossed back towards Matheus, before Crescenta cleared her throat and silenced the other girls. A snap sounded, and soon the girls were backing away from the circle to properly collect their supplies again. Only Crescenta remained next to him, her steely blue gaze latched onto him.
Moving around the table, she silently sat on his injured side. Without even a word, his arm was lifted up in her fingers. Delicate and small, they felt as if they had never seen a lick of work before. Keeping his arm held up with one hand, she reached forward and snatched up a bottle of liquid from the table next to his bed. The casual talk had begun again among the priestesses, some moving to clean up the shattered glass across the room, while another started a new pot. A slight pop sounded, before a quick dash of the liquid was dumped over his arm. A slight burn sizzled for a moment, but the pain was quick to die away.
Pausing for a moment in her work, Crescenta awkwardly coughed and tossed her head to the side. Silver locks coiled over her shoulder, her little toss hardly helping to move it away from her face. After grunting in annoyance, she gathered herself up to speak. "So. You called yourself a man?" She said, though she didn't give him enough time to even answer if he so desired. Her gentle fingers moved across the wound, rubbing in the liquid. No pain was felt, indicating it was some sort of numbing medicine. "I've heard of men before, but you're much less...well, intimidating than what the Madames have told us," she finally muttered, and Celena appeared on the right side of Matheus.
"Oh, indeed. The man has no fangs, see!" She stated boldly, before promptly moving to tug Matheus's lip to the side. Crescenta widened her eyes in shock, though Celena was quick to release him a moment later. Celena then dropped her hand down to pat at his chest, before proudly strutting off to finish up the tea. Giving a loud sigh, Crescenta slowly raised her fingers away from the wound. "Apologies, Celena is rather young. Though I can't blame her too much, this is the first time I've ever seen a man too," she said, an almost giddy tone entering her words. Before she had been quick to call him a beast, though now she was happy to refer to him as a man. It seems the basic concept was installed in her, but no further education beyond that.
Flashing Matheus a rather quick smile, Crescenta stopped speaking for a moment to gaze down at his arm. Her fingers were still hovering above it, though the air seemed to still for a moment. A moment later, and a soft light had begun to emit from the tattoo on Crescenta's forehead. It glowed for a few moments, before a matching hue blossomed over his wound. A warmth was felt spreading over the flesh, before vanishing in a snap. Her tattoo stopped glowing the moment his wound stopped, though there was no wound to speak of now. Not even a scar was present, his skin fresh and clean.
"Oh, that went rather well!" Crescenta announced, still holding his arm up with one hand. "I've never tried such magic on a man before, so I was worried you may explode! Oh, I've just realized something. I forgot to ask what you go by. I've heard that men go by he and him opposed to her and she, which is odd, but you must have a name. You may of heard mine before, but I am Crescenta. Please, tell me your name, and how you've arrived here." Chattering on casually, Crescenta seemed to forget only minutes ago where he screamed at all of them. Now she was happily talking to the man, seemingly curious about him. Pausing to smile widely at him, she waited for his response.
[/div][/div][/div][div class=footer]
Interactions: Matheus; Various Temple Girls
Mentions:
Jean Otus
[/div][/div][/div]
At the mention and emphasis of the word 'man,' each girl began to suddenly mutter with each other. A shorter girl with coily hair tugged on the arm of Crescenta, and she turned her attention away from Matheus to her. Her head ducked down, and a quick exchange of whispers occurred between the two young girls. A suspicious look was tossed back towards Matheus, before Crescenta cleared her throat and silenced the other girls. A snap sounded, and soon the girls were backing away from the circle to properly collect their supplies again. Only Crescenta remained next to him, her steely blue gaze latched onto him.
Moving around the table, she silently sat on his injured side. Without even a word, his arm was lifted up in her fingers. Delicate and small, they felt as if they had never seen a lick of work before. Keeping his arm held up with one hand, she reached forward and snatched up a bottle of liquid from the table next to his bed. The casual talk had begun again among the priestesses, some moving to clean up the shattered glass across the room, while another started a new pot. A slight pop sounded, before a quick dash of the liquid was dumped over his arm. A slight burn sizzled for a moment, but the pain was quick to die away.
Pausing for a moment in her work, Crescenta awkwardly coughed and tossed her head to the side. Silver locks coiled over her shoulder, her little toss hardly helping to move it away from her face. After grunting in annoyance, she gathered herself up to speak. "So. You called yourself a man?" She said, though she didn't give him enough time to even answer if he so desired. Her gentle fingers moved across the wound, rubbing in the liquid. No pain was felt, indicating it was some sort of numbing medicine. "I've heard of men before, but you're much less...well, intimidating than what the Madames have told us," she finally muttered, and Celena appeared on the right side of Matheus.
"Oh, indeed. The man has no fangs, see!" She stated boldly, before promptly moving to tug Matheus's lip to the side. Crescenta widened her eyes in shock, though Celena was quick to release him a moment later. Celena then dropped her hand down to pat at his chest, before proudly strutting off to finish up the tea. Giving a loud sigh, Crescenta slowly raised her fingers away from the wound. "Apologies, Celena is rather young. Though I can't blame her too much, this is the first time I've ever seen a man too," she said, an almost giddy tone entering her words. Before she had been quick to call him a beast, though now she was happy to refer to him as a man. It seems the basic concept was installed in her, but no further education beyond that.
Flashing Matheus a rather quick smile, Crescenta stopped speaking for a moment to gaze down at his arm. Her fingers were still hovering above it, though the air seemed to still for a moment. A moment later, and a soft light had begun to emit from the tattoo on Crescenta's forehead. It glowed for a few moments, before a matching hue blossomed over his wound. A warmth was felt spreading over the flesh, before vanishing in a snap. Her tattoo stopped glowing the moment his wound stopped, though there was no wound to speak of now. Not even a scar was present, his skin fresh and clean.
"Oh, that went rather well!" Crescenta announced, still holding his arm up with one hand. "I've never tried such magic on a man before, so I was worried you may explode! Oh, I've just realized something. I forgot to ask what you go by. I've heard that men go by he and him opposed to her and she, which is odd, but you must have a name. You may of heard mine before, but I am Crescenta. Please, tell me your name, and how you've arrived here." Chattering on casually, Crescenta seemed to forget only minutes ago where he screamed at all of them. Now she was happily talking to the man, seemingly curious about him. Pausing to smile widely at him, she waited for his response.
[/div][/div][/div][div class=footer]
[div class=mainPic]
[/div][div class=tagBox]Location: SickroomInteractions: Matheus; Various Temple Girls
Mentions:
Jean Otus
[/div][/div][/div]code by RI.a
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