Tag Archives: rp: tale of sir isaac

the Tale of Sir Isaac

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

At first Summer thought that Sir Kit was merely passing through the village — the wide road did wind through their humble collection of huts and cottages. But he slowed, and dismounted his horse, throwing the reins over the limb of a nearby tree, and she quickly realised that he came with mischief aforethought.

Sir Kit had come neither in shining armour nor elegant garb, but rather the clothing of a man full of arrogance and certainty of his place in the world: at the top. Summer hastily whispered to the little children to go within-doors, the larger carrying the smallest. The biggest children, still too little to work the fields, peered with huge eyes over the low stone wall on which the maiden sat.

She refused to acknowledge the presence of Sir Kit otherwise, continuing to spin as though his shadow across her hands was no more than a cloud passing by the sun. The loutish young lord deeply resented such behaviour, especially from one beneath him, and he kicked her spinning from her hands to the dust and dragged her up by her wrist.

Ensuring that Buttons trotted near silently through the wooden undergrowth of the forest, Sir Isaac inwardly cursed with quite a colourful array of profanities as various twigs and leaves tangled themselves in the wayward curls escaping the confines of his armour visor. Sighing despondently, he gently dug his heels into the horse’s sides, a silent request to be careful whilst wide eyes scanned their surroundings, attempting to seek out the hidden dangers there.

And then he came across a curious sight – children of all ages shuffling away from a woman, the most beautiful of women that his eyes had ever come across. But all of that was quickly cast aside when he took note of the brute stalking towards the woman, acting like a predator hunting down its prey and if his posture was anything to go by, then it was clear that he viewed the girl as a delectable morsel for him to devour. 

“I say! What’s going on here? Unhand her at once!”

Sir Kit tightened his grip on Summer’s wrist, causing her to cry out in pain, and pulled her with him as he spun around to meet Sir Isaac’s gaze. “I own this wench and I shall do with her as I please! Who do you think you are, giving orders in Argent lands?”

Summer struggled despairingly, frightened by both the knave holding her so tightly and the anonymous young knight looming on his horse. “Please let me go,” she cried, “I’ve done nothing wrong! Please, my lord!” 

the Tale of Sir Isaac

lycanthropelahey:

iamthefirechild:

[…]

One day at the harvest-time, Sir Kit came to the village where the maiden Summer lived, and she was alone in the village with the babies. She sat outside spinning while the littlest children played at her feet. Sir Kit saw her and thought it would be a fine thing to have her for his new mistress, for he had tired of his previous women and wished for a new one.

Sir Isaac preferred the solitude of his own land, land ruled by Derek the Hale, a fair and admirable ruler, although Sir Isaac feared him greatly. He preferred being alone, due to being orphaned mostly from a young age. In a freak horse-riding accident that had killed his mother, his older brother had seen fit to ride off into war, where he was cruelly slaughtered by Lord Argent, along with his comrades. Thus, Sir Isaac vowed to avenge their deaths, this desire exacerbated lately by the death of his own father, a cruel and vicious beast, hell-bent on ruining Isaac’s adulthood, as well as his childhood.

And on this fateful day, Sir Isaac found himself leading his own horse, Buttons, through the woods on the suburbs of Derek the Hale’s land, when he experienced the most uncomfortable sensations, a foreboding sense that something was about to go wrong. Someone somewhere was about to get hurt, and wielding his sword and mounting Buttons, he vowed to change that, prevent the event before it could even occur.

At first Summer thought that Sir Kit was merely passing through the village — the wide road did wind through their humble collection of huts and cottages. But he slowed, and dismounted his horse, throwing the reins over the limb of a nearby tree, and she quickly realised that he came with mischief aforethought.

Sir Kit had come neither in shining armour nor elegant garb, but rather the clothing of a man full of arrogance and certainty of his place in the world: at the top. Summer hastily whispered to the little children to go within-doors, the larger carrying the smallest. The biggest children, still too little to work the fields, peered with huge eyes over the low stone wall on which the maiden sat.

She refused to acknowledge the presence of Sir Kit otherwise, continuing to spin as though his shadow across her hands was no more than a cloud passing by the sun. The loutish young lord deeply resented such behaviour, especially from one beneath him, and he kicked her spinning from her hands to the dust and dragged her up by her wrist.

the Tale of Sir Isaac

Long Long Ago and Far Far Away there lived a maiden who was a serf under a terrible, cruel lord. The maiden’s name was Summer, and she was very beautiful. Since it was harvest season, she was often to be found in the village, tending to all the youngest children while everyone of able hands went out to the fields to bring in the harvest.

Now the lord of those lands was Gerard, Lord Argent, and he was a greedy, scheming lord who constantly scrabbled for more power and land than he had. He had two sons, but the first he had cast off some time ago, and no one knew where he went. So the second son was his heir, and Sir Kit was a drunken lecher. Sir Kit frequently went out to the villages in Argent lands and took advantage of the women, especially the pretty maidens.

One day at the harvest-time, Sir Kit came to the village where the maiden Summer lived, and she was alone in the village with the babies. She sat outside spinning while the littlest children played at her feet. Sir Kit saw her and thought it would be a fine thing to have her for his new mistress, for he had tired of his previous women and wished for a new one.