Upon The Isles

[Samson Option 9652]

How resolutely has man painted two faces of the same woman. Fortune, those who drew a preferred lot from that cosmic probability crowned her with the utmost beauty and wreathed her with the highest praises. Flip that beloved mask and find that those crushed under and kept drowned under the weight of a dismal destiny heaped vulgarities upon her. To the lucky, she is loved; the cursed decry her as a crone.

 

 

 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtVPJVxqcS8

 

Prologue I

 

 

The men filed  into the camp with little noise to hail their coming. Naught but an ivory light shone their paths, the moon holding onto the night ceiling in the shape of a crescent. Clothed forms shook as the men entered into various tents with the replies of crying, groaning, and choking. Horses fell upon their pens in panic and soldiers clawed away at the thatch of their lean-tos and fence stakes. The camp bursted in an uproar with fleeing cries and victorious whoops, but sooner still did the camp grow quiet. The last tent left unmolested was the largest and the men gathered at the entrance.

 

The officer had awoke at the first noise, but held his composure. He walked outside to meet the gang of marauders in his simpler threads. He stared at their faces bereft of pity or mercy and rested his palms resolutely on the pommel of his longsword.

 

"Truly, this is misfortune. Forsooth, you have wrought havoc and you will dine on their chain-links and leathers. Pray tell, where will that get you lot of men?"

 

One of the men raised a hand as his companions seethed and unveiled their arms at the officer's remarks. They returned their swords and axes to their straps and belts at once.

 

"Officer, I thought they trained you in strategy, but I must have found a bard and satirist instead."

 

"I need a much more manageable tongue if I am to commit to sorcery"

 

The group of bandits eyed the officer suddenly, brows raised and eyes squinting.

 

"You heard me, you lot must be nervous. This isn't your usual routine to run into a man who can plague and curse all the same."

 

"Piss on that, we'll render you speechless and you can save all those sailors words," one of the bandits quipped.

 

The officer unshealthed his longsword at once and he leaned sideways as many more came out in response.

 

"May she who betroths us to our destinies reprimand you thusly. Cross the sea to the Isles and find yourself assaulted from all sides!" the officer declared as he swung his sword to engage the closest of the highwaymen. Within minutes, the officer caught a blade in his pelvus and lurched to the ground only to be mutilated. The marauders took turns dashing his body across the ground until he no longer could be discerned from carrion. They broke out in conversation with each other, a few of them growing more anxious. One of them stepped across the camp towards the beach. He spied the opaque cerulean waters lit by the moonlight and thought to himself thusly - what does lies out yonder?

[Dohvi 622]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.