bondagefreaks "Captured by Vikings: Memoirs of a Prisoner" https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=17328
And Caesar73s "Hunt For the Weinstein-Collection" https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f=17&t=13456
@bondagefreak Your attention to historical detail (right down to the kind of socks Vikings wore) and the way you capture the ordeals and emotions of your characters makes them so believable. It's like we're experiencing the story along with them in another time and place.
@Caesar73 the way you represent Germany's culture, history and geography in the Weinstein-Collection really makes me wanna do the same for my country too, so basically I just wanted to thank you both for inspiring me
Now all that being said I hope everyone enjoys this story!
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Australia, 1905.
"Oh there they leave him standin',
A-shoutin' for all hands!
Whilst all around him,
Every shooter stands!
His eyes are on the cask,
Which now is lowerin' fast
He works hard and he plays hard
And he goes to Hell at last!
Click go the Shears, Boys
Click! Click! Click!
Wide is his blow
And his hands move quick!
The ringer looks around
As he's beaten by a blow!
Curses the old snagger
With the bare-bellied yoe!"
The voice of an ashen-haired, square-jawed and well-built A-shoutin' for all hands!
Whilst all around him,
Every shooter stands!
His eyes are on the cask,
Which now is lowerin' fast
He works hard and he plays hard
And he goes to Hell at last!
Click go the Shears, Boys
Click! Click! Click!
Wide is his blow
And his hands move quick!
The ringer looks around
As he's beaten by a blow!
Curses the old snagger
With the bare-bellied yoe!"
Australian stockman named Harry Buxton carried across the dry orange plains of the Simpson Desert. Along with the thundering hooves of two thousand head of Murray Grey cattle.
Harry and four of his fellow stockmen; Gregory Brown, Peter Paulson, Charlie Payne and Robert Gillingham working for the John Andrews & Sons Cattle Company had been tasked with driving the giant herd of beasts to the coastal town of Port Jenkins, a journey of over a thousand miles. At the end of this long ride, the experienced and hardy drovers had been promised a sale of 200 pounds a head. A handsome payday by any mans account.
"That song, you a bloody sheep-shearer now Harry?" Robert, aka Robbo mocked the thirty-year-old drover from afar.
"Thinkin' about it mate, thought I'd practice on you first, your bottoms about as hairy as a sheep's don't ya know?" Harry teased Robbo back all in good spirits, the Outback could be a lonely, harsh, unforgiving place even with good company, so it was important to keep spirits high, and none understood this better than Old Man Greg Brown, the lead stockman on the drive. A visibly aging but still lean and strong man who could ride a horse and crack a whip with the best of them.
"Careful Robbo, he'll be askin' ya to dinner in Port Jenkins by the time we get there hahaha!" The husky-voiced older stockman chortled over the rumbling of the herd, his instincts immediately kicking in as he saw a few stray cows moving too far to the right of the rest of the herd. He galloped to the flank of the less intelligent beasts, spurs rattling and his brown leather duster coat flowing. With a loud, sharp crack of his bull whip he frightened the Murray Greys back on track. Until soon more and more of the animals started to dart about, to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off.
"Strewth somethin's got 'em spooked!" Harry thought.
Moving as a team to prevent the entire herd from scattering, the expert drovers coordinated their riding to encourage the cattle to firstly, all move in the same direction, and secondly, move in the right direction. The herd would strive to avoid the riders, bunching up tightly together to avoid being attacked if they saw their drovers as predators, a natural survival instinct ingrained in cows for thousands of years.
But even as the professional horsemen ushered the herd together, something else was motivating them to move apart again...
There was something moving slowly amongst the cattle as they trudged and milled about.
"Pfuuuuuuiiiitt! Oi, Greg you seein' this mate?" Harry whistled loudly and called out to the aging rider.
They laid eyes on what was disturbing the herd.
A woman, just casually walking through a huge herd of Cattle, in the middle of the desert... Her loose, long red hair billowed in the wind along with her long blue dress covered in small white polka dots...
And blood.
On her dirt-stained, blank face, in her matted hair, on her tattered dress, the woman was covered in a truly terrifying amount of blood.
"Bugger me!" Harry exclaimed, dismounting his chestnut Brumby to make his way on foot towards the mysterious young bird. "Fellas give us a hand here!"
She barely even reacted to Harrys presence until he took off his dark brown duster to place over her shoulders.
"Miss? Miss you alright? What happened?"
The Murray Greys were scattering to and fro, with Peter, Charlie and Robbo spurring their horses to keep the startled animals corralled whilst Old Greg rode up to Harry and his new charge.
"Bloody hell, where'd you come from?!" the aging stockmen hollered. "Check her for wounds Harry we need to stop, bloody herds losing their minds!"
Doing as instructed while Greg rode on to help slow down the thundering cattle, Harry did as instructed and patted the strange, blood-covered damsel down all over her body to see where the blood was coming from.
"Miss? What happened Miss? Speak to me what happened were you attacked?" he urged the mysterious redhead.
"I..." she finally spoke, in a soft voice, barely a whisper. "Yes, I was... Attacked yes I was..."
Harry looked all over her body, which felt wrong in itself as he didn't know this woman from Jack or June, but he kept reminding himself it was necessary to help.
But aside from some bruising on her face... And on her neck, she didn't appear to be bleeding from anywhere...
"Bloody hell." Harry thought, this had very quickly become anything but a typical Cattle Drive.
TO BE CONTINUED
And the first two Chapters set the Stage nicely. Please continue the way you started!
