Thirty Second turn!
England; the Dark Ages; Castle Anthrax; dinner time.Alone in his comfortably furnished room,
Sir Conchobar the Gruesome dreams about delicious bacon: plate upon plate of the sweet smelling stuff! His stomach rumbles hard! He stirs from his sleep! He feels much refreshed from his Nap of Knightly Power! He checks his sword is still strapped on and rushes out of the room, his survival instinct sensing that something is seriously wrong [4].
But what?!
Knightly Power Nap Bonus Acquired: One +1 bonus to be applied before the end of the following day!
… … … … … …
A few rooms away,
Sir Feyman senses the same suspicious wrongness, and suddenly jumps to his feet, fleeing from the women into the hallway outside his room.
"There is something terribly wrong with this castle. No damsels would be willing to throw themselves onto four rough-looking blokes right out of nowhere. It must be a trap. I will warn the others!"
He only flees so far as another gaggle of attractive young ladies: they eagerly surround him [2]. One brings up the subject of spanking! Sir Feyman turns red! His ears are dirtied! He fails to warn his comrades! His mind is befuddled! His life is become as a living Hell! He falleth nearly into temptation but manages to avert his eyes and piously addresses the ceiling.
“Lord, why dost thou desert me in mine hour of need!”
Chivalry Penalty Incurred -1 Chivalry (Dirtied Ears!)
… … … … … …
Two rooms away,
Keardwall and
Beadocáf are in vigorous debate.
“Oh good Sire Kardboard, do please let us stay! Just for a while! Can you not see we are in the middle of reciting Our Lord's Litany of Chastity? Surely such pious women..."
"Well, ah... I... Erm...
No!" Keardwall has a short moment of weakness before bellowing, with a stern and stony glare at these ladies, "Sir Beatacalf, we are on a Holy Quest in the service of God and the King! We cannot be dallying with such loose, virtueless women! Not even dazzlingly beautiful loose, virtueless, lovely, young and eager women! Come, we must be on our way, and in thy prayers you can ask God to forgive such impure thoughts!"
Beadocáf looks around him, suddenly realising his terrible predicament:
for a knight to lose his honour is a fate worse than death! "...I mean, of course! We must continue
onwards, velocius quam asparagi coquantur! Though, I suppose, cooking something up here wouldn't take very long either, and I am starv- No! My faith must not waver!"
Beadocáf attempts to gain strength to resist the Dreadful Temptation by thinking of that Fair Maiden to whom he has sworn on his Name and Honour to stay faithful until they can be together, even if their courtly love will always be forbidden and unattainable, and their families locked in bloody Feud until the End of Days. He manageth not [3-1].
Chivalry Penalty Incurred -1 Chivalry (Staring longingly at a barely dressed young lady!)
Seeing his brave questing companion’s will falter,
Sir Keardwall opens up the top of his First Jar, and reaches into its depths to bring forth the dirt-crusted and battered rankness of the Holy Spleen of Keardwall. He holds it before him as one would hold a crucifix before a foul creature of the devil! But the nubile young ladies are greatly attracted by this manly wound and this Holy Artifact: they heartily appreciate the knightly scars! [1] They gather round to touch it. They propose some strong liquor!
“Ooh, I suppose we could stay for just one!” Keardwall falters!
Questing Heroes get all the chicks! I forgot they totally dig scars! he thinks to himself.
Chivalry Penalty Incurred -1 Chivalry (Being brushed against by a young lady!)
Confusion Penalty Acquired: -1 to next roll (They love thy Holy Spleen! They must be Especially Virtuous! Perhaps we should sit and talk and drink!)
Name: Sir Keardwall the Exteriorly Spleened, Stony Defeater of Bandits, Destroyer of the Son of the Eel of Stafford, Terror of the West, and Slayer of the Two-Headed Knight of the Wood of Doom.
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: 3.
Arm Wrestles Won: 0/1.
Inventory: A spleen in a jar of pickled eggs, a lower leg in a jar of gherkins.
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: 1.
Duels Won: 1/2.
Arms: 1/2.
Minstrels: 1/3.
Name: Sir Conchobar the Gruesome, Potless Insulter of Mothers and Piercer of the Black Beast of Aaaaarrrrrrggghhh, Splitter of the Left Head of the Dreaded Three-Headed Knight of the Wood of Doom.
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: 0.
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Topic: Roll to Seek the Grail! (Read 51087 times)