THE WRITING GAME Prompt "still life"
Feb. 29th, 2012 07:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
basricTITLE: Journey Home
AUTHOR:basric
RATING:R
WORD COUNT:750
FEEDBACK: On|| FEEDBACK TYPE: serious crit
WARNING:brief sex scene
SUMMARY:A warrior's journeying home from war comes across a village.
PROMPTS:Still Life, amethyst, limpet,radiant, toothsome, verily, harvest, strumpet
Duncan was a mighty highland warrior; the Laird of his clan. He’d gone to war by the side of his King against the hated British. The battles were fierce and once the bloodletting had ceased nothing had been settled. He had lost good men, some later to their wounds.
He himself suffered a wound across his flank but he stayed in healer’s hut for several weeks and his wound did not turn poisonous and healed. He had sent his men ahead to protect the clan.
He traveled on foot leading his stalwart steed through the snows of the mountains and across the barren plain. His faithful steed succumbed to the elements and starvation and lack of water. He sheathed his broadsword at this hip and carried his pack forward through the lowlands.
He reached the forest and the lake the tenth day, washing and drinking his fill he continued cutting through the thick underbrush beneath dark barked trees their heavily leafed branches obliterated the sky.
He broke through the last of the forest and stood at the top of the hill. After weeks of being alone the picturesque village scene below burned into his memory.
Quaint thatched buildings. People rushed about their business. A strumpet sashayed out of one building, her amethyst dress hiked up on one side exposing petticoats and a long length of white leg. The sleeves of her gown were pulled down on each side exposing her breasts, nipples just covered. She was a toothsome vision with all that dark hair swirling about her head. Verily before the night was finished he’d have the wench’s legs wrapped around him.
A blacksmith’s hammer rang out and he turned to note the four massive steeds in the pen behind the barn. Perchance he’d be able to reach a bargain for a steed and continue his journey.
His eyes followed a farmer’s wagon that brought in his harvest of vegetables in a rickety wagon. He stomach rumbled. That scruffy rabbit two days ago was long gone. A door opened sending appetizing scents of roasted boar and vegetables.
The people below began to notice him one by one and froze afraid of the massive warrior at the top of the hill. He entered the village his hand on the hilt of his sword. He never knew if a limpet lurked among the wary faces.
“What be you wanting, Highlander,” a wizened old man dared to ask knowing the disdain they held for lowlanders.
“I wish only for meal, a bed, and cups of mead. I mean you no ill will.”
The atmosphere about him relaxed as he made his way to the inn. He secured a room, settled his massive frame at a table and filed his belly washing it back with sweet mead. The strumpet swayed to stand behind him and ran fingertips overs his massive shoulders. Warrior, I am Rose and well worth your coin,
“Wench, come to my room at dark, I will make it worth your time.”
Darkness fell and Rose game to him, pleasuring him with her mouth, but when his cock swelled in her mouth she tried to pull back, but he held her head and emptied himself down her throat. Sitting back she was furious. I do not swallow, I told you.”
“Whore, I paid for you to service me, I expect my money’s worth. She eyed the promised pouch of gold and stepped to him. He jerked her blouse exposing her nipples and suckled, twisted and pulled before throwing up her skirts and satisfied his lust with her thrice. She wanted to stay the night but he handed her the pouch and sent her on her way. She left reluctantly, harboring a hope he would be so bewitched by her charms. He’d take her with him. Instead she’d been dismissed and forgotten.
The morning had the blacksmith several gold coins richer and Duncan struck out for home without a backward glance. He headed toward the radiant sunrise and the Highlands. The lowlanders had fed him, their whore had slacked his lust but he still thought little of them, for the most part they were cowards.
He still had a long journey before him. His clan waited h longed to be in his own bed. As he rode his thoughts remained on one thought, home. The image of the village the first he saw it remained at the back of his mind pushing him onward. The visage of his own keep called to him.
AUTHOR:basric
RATING:R
WORD COUNT:750
FEEDBACK: On|| FEEDBACK TYPE: serious crit
WARNING:brief sex scene
SUMMARY:A warrior's journeying home from war comes across a village.
PROMPTS:Still Life, amethyst, limpet,radiant, toothsome, verily, harvest, strumpet
Duncan was a mighty highland warrior; the Laird of his clan. He’d gone to war by the side of his King against the hated British. The battles were fierce and once the bloodletting had ceased nothing had been settled. He had lost good men, some later to their wounds.
He himself suffered a wound across his flank but he stayed in healer’s hut for several weeks and his wound did not turn poisonous and healed. He had sent his men ahead to protect the clan.
He traveled on foot leading his stalwart steed through the snows of the mountains and across the barren plain. His faithful steed succumbed to the elements and starvation and lack of water. He sheathed his broadsword at this hip and carried his pack forward through the lowlands.
He reached the forest and the lake the tenth day, washing and drinking his fill he continued cutting through the thick underbrush beneath dark barked trees their heavily leafed branches obliterated the sky.
He broke through the last of the forest and stood at the top of the hill. After weeks of being alone the picturesque village scene below burned into his memory.
Quaint thatched buildings. People rushed about their business. A strumpet sashayed out of one building, her amethyst dress hiked up on one side exposing petticoats and a long length of white leg. The sleeves of her gown were pulled down on each side exposing her breasts, nipples just covered. She was a toothsome vision with all that dark hair swirling about her head. Verily before the night was finished he’d have the wench’s legs wrapped around him.
A blacksmith’s hammer rang out and he turned to note the four massive steeds in the pen behind the barn. Perchance he’d be able to reach a bargain for a steed and continue his journey.
His eyes followed a farmer’s wagon that brought in his harvest of vegetables in a rickety wagon. He stomach rumbled. That scruffy rabbit two days ago was long gone. A door opened sending appetizing scents of roasted boar and vegetables.
The people below began to notice him one by one and froze afraid of the massive warrior at the top of the hill. He entered the village his hand on the hilt of his sword. He never knew if a limpet lurked among the wary faces.
“What be you wanting, Highlander,” a wizened old man dared to ask knowing the disdain they held for lowlanders.
“I wish only for meal, a bed, and cups of mead. I mean you no ill will.”
The atmosphere about him relaxed as he made his way to the inn. He secured a room, settled his massive frame at a table and filed his belly washing it back with sweet mead. The strumpet swayed to stand behind him and ran fingertips overs his massive shoulders. Warrior, I am Rose and well worth your coin,
“Wench, come to my room at dark, I will make it worth your time.”
Darkness fell and Rose game to him, pleasuring him with her mouth, but when his cock swelled in her mouth she tried to pull back, but he held her head and emptied himself down her throat. Sitting back she was furious. I do not swallow, I told you.”
“Whore, I paid for you to service me, I expect my money’s worth. She eyed the promised pouch of gold and stepped to him. He jerked her blouse exposing her nipples and suckled, twisted and pulled before throwing up her skirts and satisfied his lust with her thrice. She wanted to stay the night but he handed her the pouch and sent her on her way. She left reluctantly, harboring a hope he would be so bewitched by her charms. He’d take her with him. Instead she’d been dismissed and forgotten.
The morning had the blacksmith several gold coins richer and Duncan struck out for home without a backward glance. He headed toward the radiant sunrise and the Highlands. The lowlanders had fed him, their whore had slacked his lust but he still thought little of them, for the most part they were cowards.
He still had a long journey before him. His clan waited h longed to be in his own bed. As he rode his thoughts remained on one thought, home. The image of the village the first he saw it remained at the back of his mind pushing him onward. The visage of his own keep called to him.
