Twenty fourth turn!
England; the Dark Ages; the village of Stafford; five past the hour of the wasp. Before the cowed and assembled peasantry,
Sir Feyman raises his single sword in his single arm, taking position at the front of the group of knights. He doth doubt the wisdom of the eager Sir Keardall.
"Stop what ye're doing, villagers! Consider for yourselves a moment the right path: not guilty until proven innocent, but innocent until proven guilty. What foul thing has this woman done?"
"She hath summoned the Son of the Eel of Stafford, against Saint Gibsbury's sacred will!"Feyman stops and reconsiders a moment.
"How do you knowe it was she? And... if she IS proven a witch... would it not be better for us holy knights of God to see to her death, rather than you humble mud farmers? After all, she may cast a trick, and turn your own fire against you! Beware!"
Of course, Sir Feyman was merely trying to avoid needless slaughter. That is what he was good at, after all. He couldn't care less whether or not this woman cast some dastardly cantrip or mystical incantation. He could probably talk her out of her witchery if it was true, but he didn't believe in witches or magic, other than the holy magic present in God's artifacts here on Earth such as that for which he quested.
"Beware! She may summon the fire of the Son of the Eel of Stafford!"Sir Conchobar gruesomely steps forth to support his brother in arms.
"Aye, and let ye not decide on a test that could kill her, be she innocent, or the wrath of the just shall rain down upon ye."
Sir Conchobar approaches the maiden and speaks.
"What have ye done to provoke these townsfolk?"
"She hath summoned the Son of the Eel of Stafford! She doth threaten to summon the fire of the Son of the Eel of Stafford!""No! Let her speak for herself!" bellows Conchobar, in increasing irritation.
"Indeed, the least we can do is hear the words of both witch and rabble," begins
Sir Beadocáf. "But, we should beware her words, for the words of witches are like worms in your boots - you think you can trust that they are not there, but then suddenly you find your feet all sticky and with worm-squish all over them! Do not put on your allegorical boots that her words are, until we are certain they are not filled with squishy worms! I propose we let my good friend Godewine read a blessing over us before she speaks, so we are protected from the Lureish Words of the Devil's Mouthpiece."
Beadocáf orders one of the peasants to put his shirt on the ground before him so he does not get mud on his armour, and kneels down in silent prayer to the Lord as Godewine reads the blessing.
Next to the reading Godewine,
Sir Keardwall sets his jarred spleen upon the muddy ground and kneels beside Sir Beadocáf. His face is thoughtful; his thoughts are on the sanctified holiness of his spleen. As Godewine finishes mumbling his incomprehensible yet holy latin words, Keardwall rises to his feet, and holds the jarred spleen aloft.
"Nay, my friends, we must consult the spleen!", Keardwall proclaims. "Truly blessed by the Lord himself, this revered organ has ne'er lead me afoul in all the many leagues we have traveled alongside one another! Its judgement is without fault! Truly it carries the word of God!" Before the astonished gaze of the knights, and the rapt onlooking peasantry, who love this kind of thing, Keardwall scrapes a line in the filth with his booted foot, and stares imposingly at the accused.
"You, the accused! Choose one side of yon line, and if the judging spleen shall land on the chosen side, ye shall be pronounced innocent! If it should land on the other, thus speaking against you, then plainly the villagers' verdict is correct, and you
are indeed a witch!"
As the witch, puzzled but unquestioning, chooses a side, Keardwall utters a quick prayer for the guidance of God.
"O Mighty Lord, please speak thy Truth though this spleen on this day, and grant us a fraction of thy Wisdom."
The witch chooses the left. Keardwall casts the jar into the air and awaits God's judgement.
... ... ... ... ... ...
The jar doth smash apart [1] upon the centre [4] of the line!
Name: Sir Keardwall the Exteriorly Spleened, Stony Defeater of Bandits, Lord of Castle Lombard.
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 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.
Retinue Member: Crannock the Minstrel.Deceased Retinue Members: 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; Eric the Lutist, who bravely followed Sir Feyman for over an hour, only to be sliced in twain by the Black Beast of Aaaaarrrrrrggghhh
Chivalry: 4.
Duels Won: 1/1.
Arms: 1/2.
Minstrels: 1/3.
Name: Sir Conchobar the Gruesome, Potless Insulter of Mothers and Piercer of the Black Beast of Aaaaarrrrrrggghhh.
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 members: Fiddles the man club, Kenneth, Shielder of Yon Face For the Protection of Others.
Chivalry: 4.
Arm Wrestles Won: 1/1.
Inventory: The Holy Crossbow of Beersheba, Renowned Slayer of the Green Dragon, Bolt Foot.
Name: Sir Beadocáf Aethlearne the Rotund
Bio: A large man, both tall and wide, with long reddish hair and beard. As the shape of his body might give away, Beadocáf enjoys a good meal. And a good drink. And anything feast-related, really. Despite this affection, Beadocáf is also a rather pious man, spending a lot of his money on building churches on his land, and prefers to spare his fighting skills for when God calls upon them. His colours are red and gold, and his crest is an eagle carrying a cross. His weapon of choice is a long-shafted, knobbed mace, inscribed with the words Nutu Dei. Sometimes also called the Boar, or possible the Bore, Beadocáf is never quite sure which one people mean by it.
Retinue Member: Godewine of Norwhyiche, an old friend and monk scholar witnessing his quest for chronicling purposes.
Chivalry: 1.
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Topic: Roll to Seek the Grail! (Read 50817 times)