BardHaven Begins Part 4A

Woolgathering in The Beacon Room

The following is the conclusion of an account of the first meeting between Miss Kirawill Collingwood and the young Zealot Benmergui, Baron of BardHaven.

It is designed to be read in parallel with similar entries by the Baroness, which may be found HERE. Our story picks up after the lady’s reunion with the Baron has been rudely interrupted…by a volcanic eruption.

No, a real volcano.

So many hook-ups start this way, these days. I love modern women.

After the redheaded spitfire had struck me once and I had cheerfully and politely greeted her, I was inclined to allow her to strike me again, and apparently so was she. I have always found that letting someone strike you twice is so much more genteel then allowing them to do so only the once. Being struck once always seems so haphazard, like debauching a waitress or a parking lot attendant. Twice has more the feel of passion aforethought to it.

However, she didn’t get the chance. Volcanoes are well known for their horrible timing.

The entire tent shook as the first massive explosion threw all of Southern Lauk into upheaval. After the first shock wave had past, a low hissing rumble echoed as the redhead raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and looked at me.

“What is that?”

Of course, the two slavegirls babbling “Volcano..VOLCANO…OHMYGODOHMYGOD VOLLLCAAANNNOOOOOOO!!!!” and running for higher ground without packing up their red silks and portable manhoods could have been a clue, but who was I to quibble. After all, she had forgotten all about them since I was in the room.

“Mt. Lauk, it’s erupting. Come with me. NOW!”

I grabbed her hand and with a sudden jerk pulled her to her feet. After noting she was barefoot (this trend will continue in later life) I dog marched her out of the tent, the edges of which were already blackening and curling. “I had hoped for the chance to sit and relive old times, but it looks like it will have to be later…”

With that we tumbled out of the tent and into the screaming chaos of the transient city breaking up, a searing red glow pulsing in the southern sky. Brutally slapping a few terrified children out of my path and pausing to shoot a puppy that one urchin was desperately trying to catch and take to safety, I dragged the redhead to my carriage. My lead Nightmares were just about done eating the groom. Apparently the volcano had made the little twit careless. My toady, Parsifal Lonstein had just finished preparing the carriage and was on his knees in front of the door to act as a step. The ebony wood door loomed before us, the seats within a dark fantasy in ebony and red velvet. The entire rig was a little something I had won a year or two before, playing Golf against a fellow named Damned Salazar, Demigod of the Strait Razor. He was an old friend of mine, a minor local deity, an occasional pain in the ass and a wretched putter.

At any rate, the carriage was sweet…all ebony and defiled silver, red velvet and black dragon hide…with real demon rib roll bars for safety.

I took the door from Parsifal as he tried not to look directly at me and held it for the lady, but she shook her head and pointed up to the driver’s bench.

I looked up at the assortment of coiled signal whips and horsehide floggers within reach of the driver. “Right now? Well, I suppose so…but we will have to make it fast because of the volcano. Lose the skirt, grasp your ankles and…”

She scowled, slapped me and pointed again.

“Oh..you want to DRIVE?”

It took me a few minutes to stop laughing as Parsifal was getting more and more nervous as the smell of brimstone and roasting Laukian was growing stronger…however even he giggled a bit

Finally I could speak again. “No, this ride is going to get bumpy. I wouldn’t want to singe those curls of yours.” I reached out to gently rearrange her hair and her resolute expression dissolved into a far away, lovestruck look seeming to swim in her beautiful eyes. She licked her gleaming, ruby lips slightly, her cheeks flushing like fresh coral, mouth slightly parted as she leaned close to me, her breath growing deep and a bit ragged. We stared into each others eyes, mouths growing closer, my hand resting softly on her lightly covered hip as her eyes fluttered closed at the touch, her last breath a hesitant, surrendering sigh…and then I threw her into the open carriage and slammed the door.

She screamed something vile and physically impossible without prosthetics from within the now closed vehicle as I lept up onto the driver’s bench.

I glanced down at Parsifal. “Go to the Guillotine, my nauseating little darling, and help Juno put the girls in the storage cabinets in the basement and cover the whole place in Asbestos foam. Then pay the St. Ooge Brothers for the girl and make sure you get a receipt..I will need that suite again soon I think.”

“I hear and obey, oh most magnificently pitiless Baron” and with that the odious little man was off about his tasks and I could turn my attentions back to the redhead.

“Now, poppet, you’ll thank me later. If you were up here you might get those delightful sheer panels you call a skirt dusty. Look over to your right.”

She made a gasping sound as she caught site of the summit of Mt. Lauk wreathed in flaming stone. “Where are you taking us?” she howled over the peasants begging for mercy as I ran them down, the Nightmares screeching, and the street vendors selling suntan cream.

“We’re going to the docks… look at the crater, it’s overflowing. This place will be a parking lot within hours!”

She fell silent inside the Carriage as we hurtled through the red streaked night…which is when the Itchysporkchowchow attacked.

Six Itchysporkchowchow Ninjabillies dropped onto the top of the carraige and leveled their terrible blow guns at me. Keeping control of the nightmares with one hand, I turned to negotiate with them.

I spoke to the obvious leader, who was wearing a plastic name tag that said his name was Templeton. We jabbered at one another in Chowchow for a bit until the traditional insults and references to our mother’s reproductive experience were over. I then explained that I would be no good to eat at all..stringy and nasty.

Templeton raised one eyebrow suggestively and looked down at the carriage, then made a curvy gesture with his hands followed by the universal knife and fork pantomime.

“Oh her..umm……no, she is not like a chicken..they look like they would be meaty and succulent, true..but..umm…all full of air and silicone and tissue paper, I am sure. Sorry, old boy.”

Templeton looked crestfallen. Who could blame him?

“Here, I have an idea. I know a place that suit you quite well…it’s called CALEDON and should be perfect for you chaps. Lots of food..and toys…and turkeys for dealing with the sad lack of Itchysportchowchow women!”

A few more minutes of discussion, and the deal was set (though I would live to regret it…but that is another story). I passed the Ninjabillies a few maps and a sailors chart, as well as a few names, and Templeton saluted me in the Itchysporkchowchow fashion (don’t ask) and then he and his fellow Itchysporkchowchow were gone.

Well pleased with myself, I turned and settled back on the driver’s bench….sad I hadn’t noticed that approaching tree branch before sitting down.

When I finally woke up, I was in the guest cabin of one of my ships, The Ruffian King with a raging headache and a very dry mouth…but I could hear bathwater bubbling seductively in the next room.

Rising, I caught the scent of cloves mixed with girlsweat..and knew what must have happened…resourceful little chit. I silently slipped into the Master’s Chamber (which she had quite cleverly claimed while I was unconscious it seemed) and watched her nude and dozing in the warm water for quite some time. Yes, as suspected, she was a true redhead…and no tissue paper in sight.

After a time, she woke slowly and noticed me, so I crossed to her, and took her face in my hands. As I did so, I noticed the hilt of my Deluxe Polished Steel Dual Action Combination Butterfly Machete. What a little magpie this one was!

I kissed her slowly, and as while she was distracted I kicked the machete back through the door into the guest room, the weapon sliding noiselessly along the floor.

The kiss, however, was very nice indeed….and seemed extremely “right”. A very passionate young lady is Miss Kirawill. Finally, I eased back from her, looking into her eyes and whispered “Thank you”. Then I held her for a very long time, playing with her hair as we kissed and nuzzled. At last, I lifted her out of the water and stretched her out on the rug before the fire…she arched and smiled and preened and I….

…will need to charge for any more of that description.

A Baron needs to have standards, after all.

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2 Comments

  1. *grins* Excellent lead-in to…., well, that’s “another story”. *applauds and considers paying the charge for the extra descriptions*

  2. *bemoans her currently indigent state, contemplates if cute and perky in various items of attire…or, well, lack thereof…would be considered payment…*

    *she thinks, probably not, and commends both storytellers for their tales.*


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