Twenty sixth turn!
England; the Dark Ages; the village of Stafford; eleven past the hour of the wasp.Running out of patience before Sir Keardwall’s vengeful outburst,
Sir Feyman dashes into the melee, grabbing the witch one-handed about the waist and running off towards the other knights [6], who are preparing to face the Son of the Eel of Stafford to restore King Arthur’s honour. Suddenly he remembers to put her down.
”My goode knight! How can I ever repay you? Please, let me join your service, until I have repaid my life’s debt to you. I begge of thee!”Retainer Acquired! Melga the Possible Witch!
… … … … … …
Back in the village square,
Sir Keardwall slowly comes to his senses, and with a slight groan of horror he lets his sword drop from his trembling fingers. He stares about the filthy square, and then rests eyes fixed upon the muddy corpse of the deceased dirt-farmer, a limp heap in the muck which was once his life’s work.
"Good Lord, what have I done? By God, I have taken the life of an innocent! A harmless, innocent worker of the land, a good, honest fellow, and not some smelly foreigner! All for the sake of an, admittedly Holy, spleen! I have broken my vows to uphold the King's law, and become..." – and here Keardwall’s eyes widen with sorrow, regret, and shame – "... no better than the enemies we fight."
Palms raised outwards, he turns to the nearest villager, beseeching their forgiveness.
"Please! I must at least try to compensate this poor man's family for my misdeed! Certainly, perhaps yon peasants may breed like rabbits, but such does not mean one can simply walk around taking out one's rage upon them! Alas, I of course cannot bring him back, nor repair the damage I have done to mine knightly reputation, but 'tis something I must do."
Sir Keardwall the Stony Smiter of Filthy Innocents cries to the mob before him to direct him to the dead peasant’s abode, and as they do he lifts the body before him, and carries the mud-soaked corpse through the streets. His head hands in shame as he reaches the door of the departed. He places the corpse upon the floor and knocks.
The man’s widow opens; she doth see the corpse! She doth wail!
Keardwall kneels and crosses himself before her, confessing his crime and admitting his shame and his sorrow.
“Please,” he says, “I did not mean to cost you your husband and your household’s only source of income; I will regret my actions for the rest of my days. Take my second castle as some form of compensation: perhaps it will provide enough for you and your doubtless numerous children.”
The widow looks down at the deed to Castle Lombard that Keardwall holds out, and accepts the kindly gesture [5]. She turns her head over her shoulder and screams out:
”Come on kids! We be moving house! We’ve hit the jackpot!”She steps over the body lying in the doorway and walks out of the village, a line of children following behind her.
Title Lost! No longer Lord of Castle Lombard!
Item Lost! Castle Lombard!
… … … … … …
Feyman arrives just in time to hear
Sir Conchobar, Potless Insulter of Mothers and Piercer of the Black Beast of Aaaaarrrrrrggghhh turn towards the ford and address the old man.
"We shall destroy this fiend, but on the condition that you put this foolish witch trial business behind you and leave the judging to the righteous,” speaks Conchobar, “And do not speak such foul heresies of the Holy Spleen of Sir Keardwall, or you may find yourself in a similar situation to that of which a certain maiden of questionable morals has found herself in. Carried off by Sir Feyman the Judging, it seems. Anyway."
Sir Conchobar seeks the agreement of his fellows before heading off to the fearsome ford.
Sir Beadocáf, for one, roundly agrees; upon fulfillment of a certain condition.
"Indeed I will go to slay this vile Eely Bastarde, but I travel only with my long-time friend Godwine of Norwhyche, who is but a scholar and nay a Warrior. To do this task, I require of you to provide me with a squire,
ad utrumque paratus, both strong, and brave, and clever.
Coniunctis viribus Deus vincit! We go now to investigate the ford, and I expect the squire-to-be to join us as soon as possible, for if we are not attacked by then, we will be seeking this Childe of the Eel ourselves
post prandium, when the sun starts its decline."
”A squire my goode knight? I am sure [6] that some kindly orphan can be found! I will make haste and seek out the son of the sergeant of the guard without delay: his father was slain by this very same foul eel but the other week, and will need a male role model in his life, or something!”Retainer Acquired! Hagley the Squire!
The old man turns to dash off, and runs straight into the arriving
Keardwall.
… … … … … …
"My companions,” wails this latter, “I can imagine what thou art thinking, and in truth I am also: That I have become some kind of terrible monster! Indeed, I have done a terrible thing, but I shall endeavour to redeem myself in the name of the Lord in my service to our quest. I beg of thee, allow me to fight this beast, this 'Son of the Eel of Stafford', one-on-one! I must do penace, and if I should fall, then plainly 'tis merely the manifestation of God's anger at my deeds!"
He holds his head high, stony features chiseled into sorrow, and prepares himself to fight the Son of the Eel of Stafford in single combat to redeem himself, to restore his honour, and prove himself worth of continuing the God-granted Quest for the Holy Grail.
… … … … … …
England; the Dark Ages; the ford of Stafford; twenty to the hour of the swallow.Three knights and three further onlookers stand about in the early evening, a short distance from the ford of Stafford, which doth ford the river Staff. They are watching
Sir Keardwall, once Lord of Castle Lombard, now but a shadow of his former glory, ready himself for single combat with the son of one of the most dangerous eels that the age has known: the
Eel of Stafford.
As the brave and contrite knight kneels in prayer for the Lord’s guidance and protection in the grim task ahead, suddenly the Son of the Eel of Stafford doth strike! It leaps fully five feet from the water’s edge: it flies towards Keardwall’s left eye! As it is about to make contact Keardwall ducks to one side, and the vicious eel sends itself flying over his shoulder where it smacks into the ground below. Each combatant turns to face the other.
Keardwall quickly draws his sword and aims a blow at the Son of the Eel of Stafford’s head: it wriggles away! It jumps back off the ground, and flies towards Keardwall’s chest, and the two worthy fighters fall to the ground as they wrestle each other in the watery filth: but it is not so watery as to yet give the eel the advantage.
After some minutes Keardwall wrests the eel from his armoured breast and throws it to the floor, where he strives to crush it beneath his boot, but the eel slips away into the rushing water to regain the upper hand. Keardwall chases after him! The eel is out of sight however, within seconds, diving beneath the raging torrent and swimming about between Keardwall’s heavy armoured boots. He thinks he catches a glance; he stomps his foot! He smashes his heel! He misses the slippery bastardly eel!
With a deafening howl of terrifying and bestial wrath, the eel leaps out of the water four yards from Keardwall, and flies directly at his stony face! Sir Keardwall parries the eel with a sword that moves as swift as an eagle, drawing his blade from low to high as he splits the eel in two! The eel’s tail flies off to the right! The eel’s head flies off to the left! The still living head bites off Sir Keardwall’s knee! It gnaweth upon it in a foul and excruciating manner! Keardwall gasps in pain!
There is but one course of action left for Keardwall to follow: he yanks off the nearly severed knee to which the half-eel is now attached, and he strikes it hard upon a nearby rock! The Son of the Eel of Stafford is smited to smithereens! Its brain is as papier-mâché sodden and crushed by the rain and strewn about! Keardwall is victorious!
Great Pain Acquired! Thine knee has been gnawed upon!
Item Lost! Left leg below the knee!Title Acquired! Sir Keardwall the Exteriorly Spleened, Stony Defeater of Bandits, Destroyer of the Son of the Eel of Stafford, Terror of the West!
Name: Sir Keardwall the Exteriorly Spleened, Stony Defeater of Bandits, Destroyer of the Son of the Eel of Stafford, Terror of the West.
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: A spleen.
Wounds: No lower left leg.
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 Members: Crannock the Minstrel; Melga the Possible Witch.
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 Members: Godewine of Norwhyiche, an old friend and monk scholar witnessing his quest for chronicling purposes; Hagley the Squire.
Chivalry: 1.
Author
Topic: Roll to Seek the Grail! (Read 51084 times)