Fourteenth turn!
England; the Dark Ages; Castle Lombard; half past the hour of the ram. Attempt to find some fat or butter to loosen the chamberpot. Remove said chamberpot and store for safe keeping.
As the battle winds down in the castle, and as the sun sets gently in the evening sky, the Knights of the Round Table congregate in the castle courtyard to compare their tallies and count their losses. The conversation is polite, but of mixed quality: Sir Meynard appears much distracted, and Sir Conchobar the Gruesome is having trouble living up to his fearsome name, as his hideous features are mercifully hidden inside a Frenchman’s chamber pot.
As Sir Keardwall heads away to attend to some private matter,
Sir Conchobar seeks to rectify his sorry state, and blindly searches about the castle for some fat or suchlike to loosen the pot and aid in its removal. He happens to stumble directly into the nearby kitchen [5], where he finds some butter! He smears the butter about his face, hands reaching inside the wretched and foul smelling bowl, before yanking it forcefully off with the aid of Fiddles, his man-weapon [6+1 butter bonus]. It flies away into the air!
"Come along, Gertad," bellowed Sir Keardwall, "They run like rats leaving a ship! Bring my banner!"
Sir Keardwall, gritting his teeth but hiding the pain of his severed spleen and no-doubt heavy bleeding, shall head up through the castle, accompanied by Gertad with his banner. The bold Knight, clutching his jar-o'-spleen before him, shall cut down any frenchman, fleeing or otherwise, that gets in his path, and upon reaching the castle's battlements he shall have Gertad raise his banner upon the walls.
Once that is done, he shall put down his spleen for a moment, raise both his sword and his free arm in the air, and shout to whoever may be listening for miles around.
That said, he will take his spleen and re-join his fellow knights, (excepting Feyman, obviously) sharing a few comradely jokes about the pathetic French and how his spleen could defeat them, (holding up the jar, naturally) before commencing to looting the castle for any signs of a good sword, preferably an English sword that these dirty foreign dogs have stolen from someplace, to use instead of their own poorly-forged cast iron blades.
Once his banner hangs upon the castle walls, Keardwall shall send Gertad back towards England to inform their King of the conquests made in his name. With a solemn, victorious frown as he speaks.
He looks around from beneath stony brows, the got to his feet. He'll keep an eye out for Sir Feyman as he ransacks the castle.
He will keep one of his banners with him, just in case he conquers any more castles in his travels.
Sir Keardwall’s private matter takes him up some stairs and on to the castle walls with his faithful retainer Gertad, who hauls on his back a fair quantity of noble heraldic bannery. He meets no resistance, and he commands Gertad to raise his family crest above the conquered castle! He puts down his spleen and raises his shattered sword and free arm and doth proclaim to all who can hear for miles around,
"I, Sir Keardwall the Exteriorly Spleened, Stony Defeater of Bandits, claim this castle and surrounding lands for England, in the Blessed name of King Arthur, Defeater of the Saxons! The occupants have damned themselves before God by their destruction of a Holy Artefact, and thusly we have smote them down in the Lord's name! Long live King Arthur!"
Item Acquired! Castle Lombard!
As Gertad leaves, Sir Keardwall believes the best course of action would be to find a solid sword that may serve better than the one he broke in the heat of battle: he commences to looting! But alas! The first thing he finds is a final French soldier!
“’Ello!” he says, in his outrageous accent, “You claimeth this castle for King Arthur, you wretched mole-wart? Ah shall not be ‘aving that! Ah am Sir Dupont, valiant deputy of Seigneur Lombard, ‘older of this lovely castle! En garde!”
With but his jarred spleen held forth to protect him, Sir Keardwall bravely stands firm. Sir Dupont draws his sword and advances! A flying chamber pot passes by! His head is smashed! Dupont is struck down!
Sir Keardwall kneels and prays in thanks for his victory in single combat, and continues to loot his castle. He finds a sword that seems to be of adequate and possibly English quality [3], and makes his way down to the courtyard to find his companions.
Keardwall orders Gertad to return to King Arthur, some three day’s march away, to proclaim that Castle Lombard and the province of… er… the um… the surrounding English countryside now belong to England! It is a great victory!
"Let the King know that the province of..." Keardwall glances about his companions, then shrugs, "Whatever-this-is, now belongs to England. Tell him how the filthy barbarians smashed the grail, and... Wait, where is Sir Feyman? Did he fall, in battle? Sir Conchobar! I note with great joy and considerable sadness that your head hath been returned to its natural state! Sir Meynard! Wherefore goeth thou?"
Retainer Temporarily Lost! Gertad sent away!
Wound Acquired Severed spleen! Heavy bleeding! Gasp!
Wrangle myself from my knocked out state. "Blasted rats, causing me to trip," I would say, if I were to awaken. Then smash those ratty rat mothers of rathood!
In the dingy half light of the dank cellar wherein he fell, and is being gently gnawed by rats,
Sir Feyman awakes with a start. Someone appears to be chewing his toe! Ah! He remembers! The blasted rats! He kicks the wall to crush the toe-defiling rat to smithereens and then sets to stomping on the remaining rodents with his cow-shod feet [6]. Sir Feyman smashes so hard the floor begins to tremble! The walls commence to shake and crumble; the ceiling starts to tumble!
One-armed but four-legged, Sir Feyman manages to jump out of the way of the falling cellar before it smites him down, and he makes his way back up the stairs in the near-dark. He bumps into
Sir Meynard!
“Aha! Sir Meynard!” he says, “Forsooth, but it is not worth the trouble descending further, there is but rubble and rat corpses in yonder cellar: I have vanquished it entirely. Let us make our way to the light of day, and reflect upon our continuing holy quest!”
With the frenchies dealt with, Meynard Hops in search of that cow, he would be willing to bet that it thought he had forgotten
“You call me Sir Meynard? Thou knowest me? A cow that speaks? What is this devilry? Out, into the light of day that I may smite you! No! Stand fast! For I shall rip thee into tiny bits right here!”
Sir Meynard hops to the cow-man and wrestles it to the ground! He rips off its left forearm! There is nought but air inside! He pulls off its udders!
Of a sudden the man-cow pushes back Sir Meynard, and has the chance to speak.
“Meynard! It is I! Sir Feyman!”
Wound Still Acquired! Broken leg!Name: Sir Keardwall the Exteriorly Spleened, Stony Defeater of Bandits.
Bio: So named for his rather unyielding demeanour towards his foes, and those of God and the King, Sir Keardwall the Stony was a natural choice for such a quest as this. Bearing a near-permanent frown, stout forehead and a square, manly beard, not to mention his well-kept armour, Sir Keardwell is the very picture of courage and skill-at-arms.
Enjoys fighting for King and Country, feasting heartily, and glaring stonily at those who cross him. Apart from his lance he wields a broadsword and a shield, upon which is displayed his family's crest, which involves a castle on a mountain guarded by a red dragon. He would never dream of refusing such a mission from his Lord, but of course the sorry state of his financial affairs offered an extra incentive to set out on this grand journey. After all, what born warrior would wish to be cooped up in a castle all day, counting tithes and taxes when he could be out doing great deeds?!
Traits Fearsome frown of fierceness, loud voice.
Retinue Member: Standard Bearer, Gertad Brownfoot. Old fellow who faithfully follows Sir Keardwall on his travels on a small pony, bearing the noble Knight's coat-of-arms for all to see. Always glad to recite a few of his Lord's deeds for any audience, he speaks sweeter still when his tongue is greased with alcohol. Gertad is currently away.
Chivalry: 4.
Arm Wrestles Won: 0/1.
Inventory: Jar of pickled eggs, a spleen, Castle Lombard.
Name: Sir Meynard the Sure, Hopping Bringer of Gory Death.
Bio: Meynard is not sure because he always knows, He is the other kind of sure. If he decides on a task, he will keep on trying until he succeeds, or there is incontrovertible proof that it is no longer possible. He Wields his great Warhammer "Drakhen" in the crucible of battle.
Deceased Retinue Member: Maddy, the Falcon Handler; Long time companion of Meynard, Maddy was entrusted with the knights Falcon, who he took everywhere.
Chivalry: 2.
Drinking Challenges Won: 0/1.
Wound Acquired: Broken leg.
Falcon Handlers: 0/1.
Name: Sir Feyman the Judging, Slayer of the Black Knight.
Bio: Sir Feyman gladly accepts his role in any quests, but is always suspicious of the motives of his fellow questers. He likes to play music, but doesn't have the opportunity very often. He fights with swords, but doesn't get too attached to his equipment.
Deceased Retinue Member: Maine the shy Minstrel. He usually followed Feyman around, blindly agreeing with him, even though he taught Feyman many things, including how to play music.
Chivalry: 4.
Duels Won: 1/1.
Arms: 1/2.
Minstrels: 0/1.
Name: Sir Conchobar the Gruesome, Potted Insulter of Mothers.
Bio: The stuff of legends, Conchobar is feared throughout the world. Not because of his deeds mind you, but because of his legendary ugliness. He is said to be so ugly that the heads of lesser men have shattered in his presence. It is also notable that his favored weapon is a man wearing spiked armor named Fiddles.
Traits: Unimaginably intimidating. Ridiculously ugly.
Retinue member: Fiddles the man club.
Chivalry: 4.
Arm Wrestles Won: 1/1.
Inventory: No Chamber Pot.
Author
Topic: Roll to Seek the Grail! (Read 51016 times)