Thread: ~To the Victor Goes the Spoils - (missedstations x  Fading_Cards)

----------------------------------------- FadingCards Curio was silently furious. They had known the battle would happen for weeks. Theyd also known it would be futile, their thick walls could handle a siege, but the Northerners were not known for their fairness and patience for such things. Lobs of fire had been thrown over the walls and their small band of soldiersmeer days before just farmers and villagers were burned out towards the advancing army like rabbits into the mouths of wolves. Curio himself had already been busy running around inside of the inner village walls to aid those burned by the rapidly growing fires. Skin sleuthing off, black and crisp dead bodies already being hauled away and covered in worn brown blankets. The sound of the walls doors being shoved open were like hearing the executioners sentence. They didnt stand a chance. But it was either go out and fight, lose, and some would live, or they all burn or starve to death inside. All for their noblemans worthless PRIDE. Everyone ran and hid, not that it helped any of them. He couldnt even tell if his wife, dear Ilya, was safe or if she was one of the women screaming SCREAMING until there was suddenly NOTHING. He ran. There was no use in treating the limp hand beneath his. The child might have lived if this had just been a single house fire and he had the time to treat her. But now Now he had to ensure he saw another day. Not cowardice. His gut clenched and he hated himself as his legs flew under him. Not cowardice when all he had were his surgeons knives and they had been hoping HOPING their lord would see SENSE before it came to this It was not cowardice that had him hiding in a neighbours empty home, pressed deep to the floor to hide behind a counter with two children mashed into his side. All the candles and fire out, the windows shuttered, stifling his own breath like as if it was louder then all of the chaos outside and it would lead the men TO him, trying to hush the small boys whimpers It was simply survival. After all, if he did not have the gift of healing as the sages said and he later proved he did, he was a perfectly healthy, strong young man. In any other situation he would have been out on the front line, sword or bow in hand. And already be nothing but slaughtered meat on the ground. Any other situation and he would have been other there, dragging those hurt to the side to fix them, improve their chances of survival and perhaps again, already be nothing but red paint on the ground. That was his DUTY. . But they had all knew this was coming hoping it would not, but knowing it would. His eldest brother, Dionatchy, had invited him to his home several nights previous. Dio was a leader, a great man, wide and tall and strong, perfect for his state as their nobels guide for warfare and defence. Curio himself had broad shoulders, but was not built as their father, resembling more their more wiry fair haired grandfather that had come over the mountains in his youth to find a bride here. Built to climb, to swim, to run and cut through the air, with shit for holding his liquor and hair that could never stay entirely back in leather ties no matter how tight they were pulled. Almost opposites. They had barely spoken in years, and Curio had not been invited to his home since he had decided to marry and keep following his path as healer. They had not seen eye to eye on it, despite their fathers joy in now having a son in near each avenue of some kind of power in their town. So he had been surprised by the invite, and even more so by what he was made to promise. You are to survive Curio. Our leader has gone stupid and mad, he will not surrender to the Northerners. I have tried and tried, but he has brought in some troupes from the lands and somehow thinks that this is ENOUGH. It is not. Our lord is allowing some to leave, to go to the other villages for awhile, but he has decreed most of us must stay including you. He wants you up front with us, as normally I would agree you should be. But I must break with this. A healer is of no use in a slaughter accept as another body. Our lord will not survive this, or he will at least be taken and ransomed to his family. He does not need to know you are not there. I cannot save Jordain or Marks, they are stubborn, our brothers, and they believe their sheer will can protect them. I know you are smarter then that brother. We were both blessed with our mothers cunning mind. I may survive as ransom fodder, but that cannot be assured. I can at least assure YOU survive. And so despite knowing where he SHOULD be, what he SHOULD be doing despite the agony in his gut that he was hiding like a woman shielding children not even his own he had promised on both their honour to live through this. Curio just hoped the fates were not angered by their choice. ----------------------------------------- missedstations There was something to be said for making a living by the edge of the blade. Vitor had seen and gambled away more wealth than most people saw in lifetimes... A tall man with muscles formed from years of combat, a fine sword and fine leather armour, even if it was somewhat piecemeal. The only things that really had value for him were those he could carry on his back. He had lost a horse this little war, so he would need to, at least, recoup that loss. He had been a mercenary ever since he had been able to hold a sword. His first battle had been a mess of fear and screaming... It awoke something primal in his blood. An instant success. He'd known from then on that he had been made for this. A sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He was not for hearth fires and a smiling wife. A mercenary through and through, selling his sword for coin. Maybe these people had even seen him before he and his band had been paid by this lord a few years back, for a minor border conflict. It wasn't as if a man of his heritage had many other career choices. The northeners might spit at his gypsy skin, and say that with his black hair he was just like a thrall how could the gods do something like that? Had to be to mock them all... Such fighting talent in such an unworthy specimen. Now that the battle was over, he sheathed his dagger and slung his sword across his back, searching houses for coins and small valuables he could just pick up. He kicked doors in, sometimes finding girls and women, none quite to his taste though. He was not too selfish though, dragging them out for his comrades to enjoy. It was a constant butt of jokes, how picky the captain was with both his whores and his slaves. But those that served under him were kept happy that way while he took only maybe one woman and kept her for weeks, until he was bored, they got to enjoy and sell everything else. Like all captains he just asked for a little cut of the profits. He found Curio's door. It was a simple matter to break the fragile barricade. Hearing the whimpers of children, he bared his surprisingly white teeth. Probably nothing interesting here either. I can hear you, useless little shits... he almost purred. How many people could say that they enjoyed the lot the gods divined for them? Vitor was lucky enough to be one of them. You don't want me to come looking... His dagger sang as he pulled it from his sheath again. ----------------------------------------- FadingCards Curio pressed his head back fiercely into the wall until it ached, stifling a hissing curse with his tongue. The children both boys, both barely old enough to not be attached to their mothers side. He recognised one. Had helped deliver the brown haired curls to a woman barely old enough to marry. First child. First SON. Shed barely survived the birth. Hed delivered two girls from her since, one would only be perhaps two months old. His arm unwrapped from around the boys shaking shoulders as he began to openly wail. Theyd been found, and boys were only of use as slaves and only if enough hadnt already been taken.and if the blood lust of who had found them had been sated. By the sounds of it, it hadnt been. Curios fingers silently reached into his satchel and grasped the handles of the tools of his trade. They were not sturdy like the dagger on his hip, more delicate, sharp jewellery almost with their razor tips an light. His other hand pushed at the floor, raising himself up slowly, unthreatening as his hand slipped out with three slivered tools between his clenched fingers and obscured by his body. They could be easily thrown as a surprise attack, a stun. Give the boys an opening to flee out the back to. To hopefully better chances to live. Rising up to his feet he trained his eyes on the dark skinned barbarian, holding up his free arm, not in a sign of surrender, but to make his sleeve drop down. The intricate scars on his arm, tattoos more permanent in flesh then ink, marked him as a healer. He did not know where the man came from he did not carry the insignia of the northerners on his armour, but most towns in this land did something similar, so it would stand to reason if he had been around he would know what it was. In the heat of battle sometimes healers were killed, but outside of it, it was considered treason to the gods. Not that it still didnt happen. But if it at least made him pause. He was to try to survive. He promised his brother, his BLOOD family above all. They are nothing but babes, they are of no use to you. Forced himself to breath, to speak evenly. Part of his training to separate himself from the suffering of the patient in order to treat them rather then PANIC kept his pale aqua eyes steady, but allowed himself to blink, to try and not challenge the man with a full on stare down, but yet not to afraid to look him in the face hiding had been enough against his honour, even if it had been done to protect his families he would not bend like some weak willed man of money and nothing else. Take from the house what you will we will not stop you. Just we ask of you to leave us be. He understood now. Understood for a sheer moment why his brother had asked him to hide. It wasnt simply just to continue the family line his brother would not be that selfish. It was for the whole town. Magda was his teacher, but she was reaching the end of her life, her concentration frail to the point of almost being a danger to the sick. Anila was older, and while had practiced longer, but had a heart of vicious fire, choosy and vindictive from town gossip and not everyone TRUSTED her the others were young and just training themselves. The town would need a healer like him to rebuild. There were people already outside the gates and hidden away, others that would survive this and not be dragged off into the night and he would need to be there and help either rebuild, or at least fix them up enough to travel to a new home. Increase the chances of survival for all of them not just him. The boys would have to live. As would he. Curio just had to figure out HOW. We are nothing of interest for you. ----------------------------------------- missedstations Vitor had never been particularly into killing children not unless he was particularly paid to leave nothing living. There was no satisfaction in murdering someone defenceless. He had some sense of honour, at least... Children were easy to sell. There were plenty willing to buy a drudge that age, to grow up in a household without remembering their past, having only their master to rely on for their life. A healer? A healer could be sold for more... Or their band could use one, for that matter. Really. Wealth that could walk was always more useful than that you had to drag around yourself. He studied Curio with a calculating eye, wondering. He could just ignore Curio's words, and take them all. But that would be effort. The children can go, he said eventually. But you... can be a prize. The northern gods were not his gods. When he thought no one was looking, he would still burn an offering to his people's gods... The gods of the road. His holy places were every crossroad. If this healer though his status would protect him, he was very much mistaken. Everyone should know barbarians could not exactly be trusted with their blades... It wasn't as if anyone could blame him either if the healer attacked him and Vitor defended himself. Most healers were also soft, weak. He doubted this... unarmed boy was much of a match for him. He saw no need to even draw his sword, keeping his long dagger raised. There was more than one splatter of blood on his armour, and he probably stank of it. None of it was his own though. Not this battle not a single scar he would have to remember this fight. Almost a shame. ----------------------------------------- FadingCards Curio pursed his lips tight for a moment. That was not an ideal. Not an ideal but for now it would work. He could not risk throwing his blades, attacking, or fleeing himself without endangering the children endangering what was left of the TOWN Go. Hed turned his head just enough to look at the boys, but still kept the soldier in the corner of his eye, suspicious, watchful. Kept his arm up, because it was both a sign of status and STRENGTH. The scars were not aided by herbs or liquid spirits. He had not even been allowed a strath of wood to hold on to and grip s his skin was cut into over and over again. It was one of the reasons why his eldest brother did not like that he was a healer. While he learned things that were beyond most townsfolk, the art still had much that was as or more barbaric then the men from the North or the savage folks of the isles so far away. Hed had to simply bare the pain and not scream, not FLINCH, as Magda wrote stories in red on his pale skin and collected the coppery smelling Ink in a bowl beneath them. The moment a healer took their arm away or finally gave in to a scream or a faint the ritual would end and that would be their status in the fold. He was proud of the story scrawled up his entire right arm to his shoulder. Just like Magda. HEALED properly, by himself, as the second part of his test, like Magda. Had the bowl of blood mixed with fervent herbs and burned to the spirits around them that many did not want to acknowledge accept as nuances or enemies in godtales. Other men of the towns and villages and larger ruling classes had their coats of armour. Their signet rings. Their weapons or steeds or wives or money to signify who they were, what they ARE. All of which could be taken away. His arm. The loss of it would more then likely also be the loss of his life, and so with him wherever he went was what he WAS. No one could take that, take his STRENGTH in that way, away from him. Not that a savage would have any clue, but perhaps the boys did. Go. Out back. I know you drive your mother mad Banner with your hiding games. Do that. This is the master hiding game. Take your friend and go. Hide in the best spots you know. The children didnt need to be told twice, shutting their cries for long enough to gather themselves up on tiny feet and rush behind him, back door creaking noisily at their departure, but like as if that would matter with all the chaos outside. Curio though did not verbally agree to the terms. A mans word was everything to his people. But as a healer he had learned the tricksters truth to sooth families and patients alikeand in this case. Convince a man of agreement when he was only borrowing time. The children gone, he finally put down his arm, hand resting on top of the counter, leaning a little as if he were tired. Bowed his head slightly, looking down as if giving in, when really he was taking stock of the mans weapons and readiness to attack. I am of no use to my people if I am a Northerners. prize. He did not understand the use of that word instead of simply slave, but no matter. I can heal your men but I am tied by blood honour to stay here savage probably didnt understand honour if it plunged its vicious blade into his gullet. Curio had no clue if bartering would work in this situation, but as no one had yet to swing a blade, he may as well TRY In case that didnt work though, his eyes focused back up and his fingers tightened on his blades. Even the largest men could fall from the smallest wound if it was in the right place. There after all was a reason why the goddess of healing was courted by the god of trickery as his true love. They both understood the weaknesses of man that they tried so hard to ignore. ----------------------------------------- missedstations One on one. Perhaps this was suitable. His smile was a a little feral no, he did not seek a kill now. That would be no fun at all. And no use to anyone. He was in this business for both personal pleasure and for money. And the long list of the dead that he had left in his wake... Perhaps it would go somewhat to balance his accounts. Your people are not your business anymore, Vitor stated, quite simply. The ties of blood and place they were not his ties. He understood that other people liked to hold onto them, that sometimes they burned like fire, like poisoned wounds... But a slave did not have that honour. And all the better to teach this one that soon. He did not intend to give this one the time to think very far though. He moved immediately after the boys were gone and their words said, closing the distance between them in a moment. He moved fast even when constrained by armour. With his free hand, he aimed to slam Curio into the counter. ----------------------------------------- FadingCards Instinct threw him back into the wall, nearly tripping over his own feet to avoid being cornered TRAPPED. If he was trapped this was all over and NO amount of anything would get him out of this. Curio snarled, canines flashing. Diplomacy wasnt going to work on a man who had a mind like a wild cat. Single minded and no need for pack. Curio was Wolf. Pack was all, honour was all. Pack was strength .. and here his pack were his knives. His left arm swung out like released taught whipcord, singing small blades swiping for flesh like claws. Going for the face the EyesNoseMouthBrainNeckJugular THICK with blood. A lucky kill or a good distraction or disbarment of the senses buy him TIME, buy him his LIFE. ----------------------------------------- missedstations Curio managed to get the side of Vitor's face. Long narrow slashes that didn't even make him wince. Either he was insane or used to it. Maybe both. When the blood dripped down to his lips, he licked at it how very... Arousing to have his blood spilled. He did like the feisty ones. Good... he purred. You aren't boring. He shifted on his feet, keeping himself in between his prey and the door. A slow step closer, aiming his dagger for nothing lethal maybe the muscles of the shoulder and a knee aimed at the healer's crotch. A man who had survived decades on the battlefield was adept at fighting in close quarters, and this house was small. There wasn't really anywhere to run. Curio would never make it to the door, in Vitor's opinion. Even amongst mercenaries and barbarians, when his name was mentioned, there was a little hush a man who just liked to hurt his prey was always a strange thing. Whose blood lust wasn't entirely aimed at killing... Who needed to be bribed and assuaged to not cripple or maim his captives, let alone let them live. ----------------------------------------- FadingCards The blond man scrambled back, cursing in a hiss that he hadnt scored a bigger mark, stomach sinking quickly in his gut. He twisted violently to avoid the dagger, hearing it thunk solidly into the wood where he used to be, but that did not save him. The distraction may have twisted him, but the mercenaries kick still hit his inner thigh violently, knocked him off his feet. Sent him down to the floor on his ass, hands, one still holding his knives in a death grip, scrabling at the walls to stay UP. His free arm slung over the counter in a death grab, keeping the healer from fully tumbling onto the floor. If he went down that was it. Like a fish, white soft belly to the sun, flipping on the rocks in front of a hungry bear. DEAD. RRAAH! frustration, anger, and dread made him wild, swinging out his claws wildly, not caring what he hit as long as it kept the madman BACK. Cornered. He was CORNERED. He was Gripping onto the counter with all his might and flinging himself over the stationary piece of furniture with only the strength a desperate man knows. Landing wrong and catching himself with his hands on the floor, blades clattering away as he scrambled to get UP and AWAY. His left hand was cut, fingers lined with red from the odd way he landed with his tools. Stung. His ankle and a few other places may hurt later but for now it was staved off by adrenaline as his right hand finally took his knife, a more solid grip, a better USE as he stood up and backed away towards the front door instead of the back. The front door leading into the screaming and laughter and shouts of the street but hed take his chances out running like a madman in the open air then trapped in here with this ANIMAL. ----------------------------------------- missedstatioins The healer was desperate, while Vitor was still mostly cold to the entire thing. He'd missed, but that did not matter he was already pulling the blade out of the wood and following with a far more graceful swing over the counter. At times like this, he was really glad that he didn't wear much chainmail. It made him far too slow. I might let you live, if you drop your little claws. They won't, he told Curio. After all, you attacked their captain... Some people even fell for it. He could look perfectly honest when he spoke like that, even as he was slowly stalking closer, ready to sprint should his prey choose to attempt flight. Fighting would be stupid knife against dagger? The knife probably wouldn't even make it through his armour, and his own blade had more reach. He was playing here still should he really want to, all he needed to do was draw his sword, and then this fight would be really short. But then he couldn't guarantee not killing this one. He would prefer not to, considering the swelling flesh under his armour. Necrophilia just wasn't his thing. ----------------------------------------- FadingCards Curio kept moving back until he felt the wood of the door beneath his bloody hand, his other held in front of him with his remaining blade. Brows turned in anger but eyes wild but he listened. He was not lost to fears madness yet. The tremors were in his chest, yes, but it had not taken over his blood like a young fool. He was still a man, and Dionatchy was right in saying he had inherited his mothers mind as he could still THINK. Outside was chaos. Random. Out there he was one man amongst many, amongst fire and terror and soldiers still looking for sport. He did not believe barely scratching the beast before him would change their attitude at all. Indeed amongst the men of his own town complaining about something that hadnt maimed them in some way was considered WEAK. But again, out there in the street, he did not know if he could reach new cover again before he was simply cut down. Here. Here he did not know that either. But there at least was the CHANCE. Like Dionatchy, Curio understood that sometimes in order to win the war you had to loose a battle. How am I to know I do not face a similar fate with you. He was proud his voice was even, vicious sounding around his gritting teeth. As you said, I have nicked the Captains delicate offence. I think I am rather ruined either way. But he did not open the door. He also did not drop his weapon. The only reason I have not tried for your EYES is because while I would die with pride, I have promised to live to people far more important than you Captain. The word sounded like he wanted to spit. He still didnt try to attack though. His teachings as a boy didnt allow him to simply drop the weapon, but his agreement didnt allow him to USE it either. His mind whirled, until it decided and simply loosened his grip visibly enough to show he could be disarmed. He could only hope the man had some kind of hold to his words and Curio could find escape another day. The fates had not liked his brother trying to take the healer from them, but now they had won him back. ----------------------------------------- missedstations I do not destroy things that are useful to me. That much was true. His slaves had never had cause to fear getting murdered for no particular reason. Maybe he was cruel to them, but he tended to sell them on and even once and twice, he'd freed a slave. In his people's way, of course, by offering that person to his gods, leaving them at a crossroads, with a knife and a silver coin. Enough to survive with. You may not think so, but I do have honour... The smile he wore suggested that he almost expected to have the classical northern response of spitting and saying that a gypsy could not possibly have any concept of what the word meant. It was why they hired him, after all. He was not afraid of their northern gods, not bound by their laws. His gods sang to him of the open road, of battles not yet won... Of those who had not yet bowed to him. Of blood and a different kind of glory. No remembrance in a clan's tales for him. Ah well. Someone had to play the villain. He reached to take Curio's weapon, dropping it and kicking it away. While he could respect a man who had fought him despite the odds, that would not satisfy his baser desires. Perhaps you can hope those terribly important people can ransom you... He grasped Curio's hair, far rougher than he needed to, and now he did do his best to slam him face down on the counter. He respected this man enough to give him the necessary lessons now. ----------------------------------------- FadingCards It almost felt like RELIEF when the knife was taken from his hands. That had been tricky to convince himself to do that, and it was a risk that the man would understand what was going on. That feeling was swiftly replaced by a cacophony of sound and sparks behind his eyes when his head hit the countertop. His teeth clicked together, grit, only letting out a minor grunt of discomfort. His hands spread wide on either side of his head, braced, his left smearing blood why did fingers bleed so MUCH as he resisted attacking the fist in his hair. Ransom. Yes. He did not believe any of his brothers or his father survived and if his eldest had, he was already be ransomed to the nobles king, just as the noble would be himself. If so he could not be ransomed to him but if his wife. His wife. Oh Ilya a sad thought, a desperate one. They had tried to get her out, to get on the list with her father to be allowed to run days before They had no luck then, but he hoped for it now. There marriage was not one of fluttering love, but they were in full agreement with each other, they worked well. No one new him quite like she did, and he in kind. If she survived she would pull on her fathers coffers not here in this town and pay for him. She had no interest in marrying any other man, and they were happy together. He could only hope For that though he would have to live long enough to be returned. So he forced himself to stay still. Waited for his hands to be forced behind his back and tied, then rope or leather looped around his neck to drag him outside the gates as a piece of property. It wouldnt take long and then it would be over with and Curio could think outside the towns walls on how to free himself again. I could perhaps be ransomed. Depends how crazed your men were towards cutting down anyone even vaguely in their path. And sheer LUCK. Curio did not count on luck right now. He did not hold back a frustrated sigh. I at least hope they DID get Sir Adelwell. Treasonous thought or no, the man was a lunatic to think this would work oh he had many other words for his noble lord at the moment, but they felt warmer, basking in rage, inside of his head, fuelling him. Gave him something to focus on as he went from man to slave. ----------------------------------------- missedstations The first part was as Curio expected Vitor undid one of his belts and tied Curio's arms behind him, folding them, wrists to elbows. Pulling the leather painfully tight. That he tied Curio well was another little mark of respect. No doubt the healer wouldn't appreciate it in this particular moment... Ah, he had forgotten how good it was to see another man like this before him. He didn't feel like waiting very much at all. Don't worry, my employer asked for your lord's death... He leaned over Curio's ear, whispering almost intimately into it. I did it myself. I ran him through. He was such a coward when he died. He tried to run from me. You were much better than he was... Almost flattery. If he was trying for pillow talk, he really wasn't very good at it. But for a pet, you use far too many words. Vitor had no real need for thralls. He could sharpen his own blades and polish his own armour. Something to warm his bed though... That was another thing entirely. He licked the tip of Curio's ear. Now that this one was under his control... Oh, so many things to do. First though, he took his blade to the healer's clothes, ripping them to pieces, to find the bare skin. ----------------------------------------- FadingCards Curio gave a start, his whole body tensing, when he felt hot breath turn in to wet tongue. Hed been silently trying to start his mind thinking about something else, ANYTHING else then the tightening around his arms and the warm words describing bloody violence in his ear. Separate himself from the indignity he was about to face walking out as a slave. THAT had brought him back to the present like a lightning strike. For just a second he had hoped it was just a teas, just a show of power but then he felt the cool blade of the dagger on his skin and the heard the clean ripping sound as he felt his shirts seams part before the blade. What are you DOING!? his brain refused to catch up with the rest of him, head whipping up from the countertop and body flinching away what it could from the blade. The darker mercenary though seemed to be everywhere he tried to move. He was NOT being paraded through town naked! I dont know where your FROM, but my people dont need such a thing as this to show slave status! Any man bound in public is not a free man. Stop that! He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, forcing himself to sound like the overseer of the new healers first lessons. Stern. Informative. In control as he tried to press himself into the furniture to get AWAY. He was not in control. ----------------------------------------- missedstations He had to stop and laugh at the idea of a slave telling him what he could and could not do. Trying to sound so serious too! It was rather sweet, really. He ran his knuckles down the healer's spine. What use has a slave for dignity? he said, sounding almost philosophical. He used one hand to keep Curio down while he sheathed his dagger. It's alright... I won't hurt you too much. It was a little vague attempt at being nice and soothing, but underneath it there was a far darker implication. What, exactly, was too much? You gave in too easy. You stipulated too little for your treatment after. I am a man of my word, you know. If you were cleverer you might have made me promise more... Instead, all I am bound to is not killing you. He sounded very self satisfied as he pulled down Curio's pants, ran his fingers across the hips, touched the buttocks... Such soft, warm skin. Feeling the healer twist away and be unable to - oh, it was delicious. It has been a very long time since I fucked a man. You must excuse my lack of ceremony, Vitor said, his tone utterly playful as he bent over Curio's back again, nipping at the skin of the shoulder. A little admiring. Damn all his armour. He had to undo all those clasps before taking his pleasure. But he also wanted to see this one's reaction to the news first. It was bound to be amusing. ----------------------------------------- FadingCards The laughter was not a good sign. The gentle fist down his bared spine and then a hand holding him down made the blond man go cold on the inside. The tips of his ears burned though as the Northerner went on and the fog began to slowly, horribly, clear on his own realizations of what was coming. He hadnt thought to get into any other details. He had assumed he was just meant for grunt work, commonly what men were taken for, to heal and labour but that was ALL. He hadnt THOUGHT. Hadnt thought this animal, this stupid northern warrior, more commonly more concerned with simply what could be spoken with their swords and fists, had other ideas Curio was not nave. He was after all a healer. As one he had been taught the most horrible and intimate things people do to each other, whether it is sanctioned by law or not. Common men, drunk in the tavern, telling tall tales and dirty lyrics, thought that only particular waifish men who could not be considered men, boys who could not be considered boys, took of other men as one normally would a woman. Curio new differently. Knew enough to simply treat, or advise on discretion, while mentally looking the other way to deny knowledge of who or what was going on to protect everyone involved. He was not nave. However he cursed himself for being blinded that such a thing would not happen to him. Damned himself for not THINKING later he would blame the fear, but there was nothing to blame but his own stupidity that a soldier of war, blood splattered and hungry for death, wouldnt do such a thing as this to another man. Cursing himself did not stop the hands groping across his skin, or his pants from pooling around his ankles. It did not stop him from jerking forward, slamming his hips hard enough to bruise into the countertop to get away as his lungs felt like they suddenly couldnt take in enough air. You demon born bastard of a whores son, he seethed. This. This was nothing but shame. It was damnable enough he had not gone to battle. Damnable enough he had allowed himself to be captured rather then slain. This this though. He hated his brother in that moment. Hated him and the promise hed had Curio make with mixing of their blood in their clasped palms. This was disgrace but he knew he still would not through himself into the hands of death. His body jerked to the side, trying to get away from the hot breath playing on his back. I was mistaken in my dealingshisses of wrath between his teeth, I had assumed I was speaking with a man and not a mange of a wild DOG. He did not know if his mind was praying for death, delay, or rescue. ----------------------------------------- missedstations I am a whore's son! How did you know? His voice was a little mocking. Really, so uncreative with the insults. It had been a long, long time since he could actually be offended at any of those. He'd clawed his way up above many of those with far better birth, and it still did give him immense satisfaction to murder lordlings. What was funniest of all were the times those same lordlings addressed him politely and hoped that their enemies weren't going to pay more. He would have liked for Curio to suck him, but the healer's anger... Hm. He wasn't willing to risk his cock between those teeth quite yet. Maybe later, when Curio learned his place a little better. Vitor's men did not question his interests. He stayed in command because he kept them fed, armed, and led them wisely enough. They merely told jokes sometimes about how he'd got a taste for ass in the South, where sultans sometimes kept harems of pretty boys... Exactly where Vitor had been and where he had come from was an open question. His features were mongrel enough to not be able to pin him to a particular area. Now, now. That's going a little far... he answered, undoing the clasps of his armour, getting out his cock. It had been hard a while, and it was ever so good to see this healer humiliated and brought down, going red to the tips of his ears this wouldn't exactly be a long dalliance. You should try to relax, it might hurt less that way, he added, still a little mocking. No doubt the healer knew already. Not that he intended to help to make it easier for Curio in any way. That he spat in his hand and slicked up his cock as well as he could was entirely for his own comfort. He kicked Curio's legs a little further apart and lined his erection with the healer's entrance. Tell me what you feel, he murmured, pushing in slowly. -----------------------------------------