S'okay, RR, my brain can get by just fine on 50% oxygen. You'd never notice the differenceWell that is a real complement...unless you die and then it earns me an arrest warrant
But thanks for both the complement and not dying
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Mulau
- Thread starter RacingRodent
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- messaline of jin
RacingRodent
Consul
S'okay, RR, my brain can get by just fine on 50% oxygen. You'd never notice the difference
I am sure that is because you conceal most of your razor sharp intellect
RacingRodent
Consul
Does the male brain run on oxygen?
I thought it was testosterone
Nah the point of testosterone is that it makes you forget to run..."sabre tooth tiger pah I can handle that easyarrrrrrrrggggghhh"
Which should have evolved the male of the species out of that kind of nonsense but a lot of the time the tiger thought the human might have a trick up its sleeve so ran away instead which of course impressed the ladies thus only fuelling further such nonsense throughout human history
Does the male brain run on oxygen?
I thought it was testosterone
Perhaps I hadn't better hijack this excellent thread by speculating as to what the female brain runs on....
Such self control I only offer as evidence of the oxygen triumphing over the testosterone...
Perhaps the sabre-tooth tiger followed the same rule as Kipling's bears:Nah the point of testosterone is that it makes you forget to run..."sabre tooth tiger pah I can handle that easyarrrrrrrrggggghhh"
Which should have evolved the male of the species out of that kind of nonsense but a lot of the time the tiger thought the human might have a trick up its sleeve so ran away instead which of course impressed the ladies thus only fuelling further such nonsense throughout human history
WHEN the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
RacingRodent
Consul
Well to honest Kipling was just moaning about his wife giving him short shift and being a chap and thus sure it could not be his fault put it down to his wife having her time of the month and decided, since not entirely suicidal, to take his revenge on the half of the class mammals that did not include hims in poetry.
I suspect that female bears only rend you when there is good reason, such as being hungry or just plain annoyed
RacingRodent
Consul
RacingRodent
Consul
and smileys?Ah
RacingRodent
Consul
Yes smiley underwear under sheer clothing on a woman always brightens a rodent's day...almost as much as no underwear under sheer attire
ruttish rodentYes smiley underwear under sheer clothing on a woman always brightens a rodent's day...almost as much as no underwear under sheer attire
RacingRodent
Consul
The King’s Charm V
It was some days later that Mulau waded out into the river clutching a long branch. She stopped once she was almost to her knees and reaching over as far as she dared gave the upstanding tree trunk that had lodged in deeper water a good hard wack. For a rotten looking piece of wood the sound was strangely metallic. Even more bizarrely the waters around the log promptly began to froth and bubble, ripples spreading outwards in ever greater turmoil. The tree trunk rose first to a not unimpressive height of a good dozen or so feet, for some reason it appeared someone had tied cords around the trunk almost as if the bark needed to be held on.
The dark shape rose up beneath its great trunk was mostly wooden but the base of its great protrusion was clearly metal as was the hatch that opened in the bottom of the upturned boat. The hatch opened and was shoved upwards with urgent rapidity and the head and shoulders of Leonardo da Vinci and Chevalier Bayard appeared, even in the glooming evening light their faces looked a bit purple and they wheezed profusely.
“What is wrong with you two?” Demanded Mulau crossly.
“I was expecting your mother the Princess Paskai to make the signal a little earlier Princess Mulau,” Leonardo got out between wheezes, “I may have miscalculated the air supply for twenty two large armoured gendarmes, the Chevalier Bayard and myself, it worked all alright with just the skeleton crew when we rendezvoused with your mother the first time.”
“Well enough of that, they have captured my mother and are whipping her in the courtyard. I will show you the secret way in the washerwomen use to get down to the river but we must move quickly, get this stupid contraption of yours ashore,” Mulau whacked it for good measure, perhaps to relieve her concern for her mother.
“It is not a stupid contraption,” Protested Leonardo, “It worked, it allowed us to sneak up and down the river and it only leaked a little bit.”
“Gendarmes to your oars, steersman hard right rudder, no your other right,” Bayard was a bit more practical, at least now he was getting some fresh air.
“I think it is starboard on a boat,” Corrected Leonardo.
“I am more focused on getting off this boat, I have had enough of boats,” Grumbled Bayard. Soon enough though he and his handpicked elite troops were clambering assure, normally bright armour blackened and dulled with grease and plethora of swords, maces, warhammers and even for good measure crossbows and quarrels about their persons. The great metal mass was hardly quiet but yet surprisingly unloud as if imposing that odd concept by sheer force of will and determination not to fail their King and perhaps just some pleasure at having good air in their lungs.
“Follow me,” Mulau drew her own sword and simply cut away the sopping wet skirts that had concealed it. She wore culottes underneath but they had gone a trifle transparent with the river water. That might have been why even Bayard did not bother to look to himself before instantly obeying her order and rattling along in file behind her. It might off course have been a necessary remedy for the dimming light but no man took his eyes off that glowing white and the gentle curves beneath the fabric.
For Paskai lash thirty seven was still a bit of a surprise. Even with practice and the slightly nervous looking soldiers wielding the whips you forgot how much it hurt. “Aieeee, arrrrgh,” Paskai arched her bare many stripped back and then spat. She lay against the wood a moment and the hauling herself more upright by the knotted rope binding her to the poll called out, “I am ready for number thirty-eight.”
“Are you sure, you can avoid all this if you confess you are a spy?” A weedy young man in spectacles sat precariously on his nose and a little skull cap over his raiment that was almost like a priest of the true Church but not quite asked.
“I am not a spy you foolish little boy, I was going out to do the laundry, how else do you think things get clean in this place,” Paskai put all the scorn she could muster into her voice.
“I really think she is telling the truth. The King’s army stopped miles away at the other end of the valley and has not moved in days. All the washer women go out that back way down the little mountain to the river and we have not even seen a single boat since the Elders forbade passage,” The commander of the local militia looked ill at ease. He was getting glowers from the pretty red headed washer woman he had been bedding. He appeased his conscience by reading to her the scriptures in French, it was surely good for both their souls even if the lovely Doretja did seem to prefer the sauciest among the Psalms.
“I am telling you the Lady Mary recognises her,” The little weedy man with the spectacles and the title Intendant argued.
“Well of course she does, you have only introduced them six times now!” The Militia commander was growing more and more exasperated with this and was about to call a stop to the whole thing when…
“Thirty Eight please? Really I am not a spy but I see now that I really should have obeyed the Intendant’s order not to go out after the sun started setting,” Paskai made herself sound demure.
“See she is up to something,” Argued the spotty Intendant.
“No she is not,” The Militia Commander had finally lost all semblance of patience, he cuffed the Intendant on the back of the head, “You wait until the Elders get back and I tell them about this,” In the tones of an older brother telling a younger he is telling to mother, “She is a good Protestant woman who cares deeply about her soul.”
“Carry on with the punishment,” He added, he may have watched the way Paskai’s breasts swayed as the whip struck a little closely but as he said it was good for the soul.
Thirty nine was called out and Paskai arched and howled and again she braced herself.
“Forty,” Paskai shrieked, “And done,” The Militia Commander concluded, “Right men release her and glug.”
“Glug?” Asked the Intendant looking around at the big soldier, “Glug,” He then said himself before toppling over a backwards a crossbow bolt in his mouth.
“In the name of the King, attack, death to the heretics,” Bayard roared and charged forwards his great sword sending men and bits of men flying about like skittles as all quailed before him.
Mulau did not worry about unimportant soldiers she rushed to her mother and then cut her free. You might think the poor woman would slouch to the earth happy at the release from her torment. Far from it, Paskai snatched up the sword of a dead guard and with her daughter cut her way to where a confused rabble of rebel soldiers looked unsure as to whether they were besieging Little Fox and Doretja or under siege by the pair of woman. These two servants of Paskai had lurked near to Lady Mary and at the appropriate moment drawn swords from under their skirts and settled the guards assigned to keep watch over her.
With Paskai and Mulau’s onslaught the clutch of rebel soldiers trying to retrieve Mary Boleyn gave up and fled in terror. Matters were only getting worse for the rebels as more Royal troops who had started riding up the valley as dark was falling now charged through the gate and portcullis rendered open by Bayard and his Gendarmes. The King himself was at their head and many a man threw down his arms rather than strike him. Perhaps such a show of loyalty was misplaced for Francois was in a fury.
As the rebel defence collapsed in surrender the King swept off his horse and took Mary in his arms. “Mary my love have they hurt you?” He asked tenderly.
“They were beastly, they whipped Paskai and told me every day they were going to burn me as a witch for seducing the King,” Mary cried and sniffled.
“I have had enough of this Waldensian curse. No more in France. Strip the garrison, every man and woman and throw them from the parapet, let the town folk know they must repent of this heresy, leave France or die!” The King thundered.
His soldiers hastened to obey, many pausing only to grope a few of the choicer women before slinging them to fall the many feet to the rocks below already strewn with their shattered men folk. As Paskai and Mulau grimly watched a beautiful twenty something girl desperately try and cling to a rock ledge they turned to look at each other and knew instantly a truth had dawned.
“We must leave this place, Europe is becoming too brutal,” Paskai said.
“Yes we must, I think we should visit this New World maybe people will discover a better way there?” Mulau suggested. Both woman watched impassively as a poleaxe was used as a long handled hammer to smash the clinging girl’s fingers one by one until shrieking she disappeared to her doom in the night.
It was some days later that Mulau waded out into the river clutching a long branch. She stopped once she was almost to her knees and reaching over as far as she dared gave the upstanding tree trunk that had lodged in deeper water a good hard wack. For a rotten looking piece of wood the sound was strangely metallic. Even more bizarrely the waters around the log promptly began to froth and bubble, ripples spreading outwards in ever greater turmoil. The tree trunk rose first to a not unimpressive height of a good dozen or so feet, for some reason it appeared someone had tied cords around the trunk almost as if the bark needed to be held on.
The dark shape rose up beneath its great trunk was mostly wooden but the base of its great protrusion was clearly metal as was the hatch that opened in the bottom of the upturned boat. The hatch opened and was shoved upwards with urgent rapidity and the head and shoulders of Leonardo da Vinci and Chevalier Bayard appeared, even in the glooming evening light their faces looked a bit purple and they wheezed profusely.
“What is wrong with you two?” Demanded Mulau crossly.
“I was expecting your mother the Princess Paskai to make the signal a little earlier Princess Mulau,” Leonardo got out between wheezes, “I may have miscalculated the air supply for twenty two large armoured gendarmes, the Chevalier Bayard and myself, it worked all alright with just the skeleton crew when we rendezvoused with your mother the first time.”
“Well enough of that, they have captured my mother and are whipping her in the courtyard. I will show you the secret way in the washerwomen use to get down to the river but we must move quickly, get this stupid contraption of yours ashore,” Mulau whacked it for good measure, perhaps to relieve her concern for her mother.
“It is not a stupid contraption,” Protested Leonardo, “It worked, it allowed us to sneak up and down the river and it only leaked a little bit.”
“Gendarmes to your oars, steersman hard right rudder, no your other right,” Bayard was a bit more practical, at least now he was getting some fresh air.
“I think it is starboard on a boat,” Corrected Leonardo.
“I am more focused on getting off this boat, I have had enough of boats,” Grumbled Bayard. Soon enough though he and his handpicked elite troops were clambering assure, normally bright armour blackened and dulled with grease and plethora of swords, maces, warhammers and even for good measure crossbows and quarrels about their persons. The great metal mass was hardly quiet but yet surprisingly unloud as if imposing that odd concept by sheer force of will and determination not to fail their King and perhaps just some pleasure at having good air in their lungs.
“Follow me,” Mulau drew her own sword and simply cut away the sopping wet skirts that had concealed it. She wore culottes underneath but they had gone a trifle transparent with the river water. That might have been why even Bayard did not bother to look to himself before instantly obeying her order and rattling along in file behind her. It might off course have been a necessary remedy for the dimming light but no man took his eyes off that glowing white and the gentle curves beneath the fabric.
For Paskai lash thirty seven was still a bit of a surprise. Even with practice and the slightly nervous looking soldiers wielding the whips you forgot how much it hurt. “Aieeee, arrrrgh,” Paskai arched her bare many stripped back and then spat. She lay against the wood a moment and the hauling herself more upright by the knotted rope binding her to the poll called out, “I am ready for number thirty-eight.”
“Are you sure, you can avoid all this if you confess you are a spy?” A weedy young man in spectacles sat precariously on his nose and a little skull cap over his raiment that was almost like a priest of the true Church but not quite asked.
“I am not a spy you foolish little boy, I was going out to do the laundry, how else do you think things get clean in this place,” Paskai put all the scorn she could muster into her voice.
“I really think she is telling the truth. The King’s army stopped miles away at the other end of the valley and has not moved in days. All the washer women go out that back way down the little mountain to the river and we have not even seen a single boat since the Elders forbade passage,” The commander of the local militia looked ill at ease. He was getting glowers from the pretty red headed washer woman he had been bedding. He appeased his conscience by reading to her the scriptures in French, it was surely good for both their souls even if the lovely Doretja did seem to prefer the sauciest among the Psalms.
“I am telling you the Lady Mary recognises her,” The little weedy man with the spectacles and the title Intendant argued.
“Well of course she does, you have only introduced them six times now!” The Militia commander was growing more and more exasperated with this and was about to call a stop to the whole thing when…
“Thirty Eight please? Really I am not a spy but I see now that I really should have obeyed the Intendant’s order not to go out after the sun started setting,” Paskai made herself sound demure.
“See she is up to something,” Argued the spotty Intendant.
“No she is not,” The Militia Commander had finally lost all semblance of patience, he cuffed the Intendant on the back of the head, “You wait until the Elders get back and I tell them about this,” In the tones of an older brother telling a younger he is telling to mother, “She is a good Protestant woman who cares deeply about her soul.”
“Carry on with the punishment,” He added, he may have watched the way Paskai’s breasts swayed as the whip struck a little closely but as he said it was good for the soul.
Thirty nine was called out and Paskai arched and howled and again she braced herself.
“Forty,” Paskai shrieked, “And done,” The Militia Commander concluded, “Right men release her and glug.”
“Glug?” Asked the Intendant looking around at the big soldier, “Glug,” He then said himself before toppling over a backwards a crossbow bolt in his mouth.
“In the name of the King, attack, death to the heretics,” Bayard roared and charged forwards his great sword sending men and bits of men flying about like skittles as all quailed before him.
Mulau did not worry about unimportant soldiers she rushed to her mother and then cut her free. You might think the poor woman would slouch to the earth happy at the release from her torment. Far from it, Paskai snatched up the sword of a dead guard and with her daughter cut her way to where a confused rabble of rebel soldiers looked unsure as to whether they were besieging Little Fox and Doretja or under siege by the pair of woman. These two servants of Paskai had lurked near to Lady Mary and at the appropriate moment drawn swords from under their skirts and settled the guards assigned to keep watch over her.
With Paskai and Mulau’s onslaught the clutch of rebel soldiers trying to retrieve Mary Boleyn gave up and fled in terror. Matters were only getting worse for the rebels as more Royal troops who had started riding up the valley as dark was falling now charged through the gate and portcullis rendered open by Bayard and his Gendarmes. The King himself was at their head and many a man threw down his arms rather than strike him. Perhaps such a show of loyalty was misplaced for Francois was in a fury.
As the rebel defence collapsed in surrender the King swept off his horse and took Mary in his arms. “Mary my love have they hurt you?” He asked tenderly.
“They were beastly, they whipped Paskai and told me every day they were going to burn me as a witch for seducing the King,” Mary cried and sniffled.
“I have had enough of this Waldensian curse. No more in France. Strip the garrison, every man and woman and throw them from the parapet, let the town folk know they must repent of this heresy, leave France or die!” The King thundered.
His soldiers hastened to obey, many pausing only to grope a few of the choicer women before slinging them to fall the many feet to the rocks below already strewn with their shattered men folk. As Paskai and Mulau grimly watched a beautiful twenty something girl desperately try and cling to a rock ledge they turned to look at each other and knew instantly a truth had dawned.
“We must leave this place, Europe is becoming too brutal,” Paskai said.
“Yes we must, I think we should visit this New World maybe people will discover a better way there?” Mulau suggested. Both woman watched impassively as a poleaxe was used as a long handled hammer to smash the clinging girl’s fingers one by one until shrieking she disappeared to her doom in the night.
To Be Continued
messaline
Crucified Amazon
... "Yes, we do : some are saying that a man called Jacques Cartier is near to start visiting this New World and to establish a colony in the North of this World ; we could profit of that ..."
..." My mother, I'm always ready for new adventures, I'm like you ..."
"But in the New World, is it not any violence ...?" Said Messaline ...
RacingRodent
Consul
Oh come on what can possibly go wrong?
malins
Stumbling Seeker
Oh it is an amazing place.
They will welcome you cordially to their splendid cities,
They will show you their magnificent temples,
... and even though you are just a recently arrived stranger, they will be so hospitable as even to grant you the privilege of decorating the sacred altar,
... it is easy to lose your heart to these wonderful people!
