Forty sixth turn!
England; the Dark Ages; Wednesday; the Gorge of Eternal Peril."I say, Sir Ethelhad, nice work! Who knew the questions would be so challenging?" exclaims
Sir Feyman, as he steps forth to cross the bridge.
As the wise
Sir Beadocáf looks on in horror, face covered by his chubby fingers, Feyman strides confidently across the rickety wooden walkway, imperiously barging past the blind old bridgekeeper.
Keardwall’s frown increases in intensity as the blind man speaks. He squints like a rock towards the bridge.
“Eh! You great one armed oaf! What about the bloody questions!
He who approaches the Bridge of Death
Must answer me
These questions three!
Ere the other side he see!
Everyone knows that! Come back!”
“Oh Christ, he’s done it now,” blurts out Beadocáf, as he peeks through his hands to see the bridgekeeper rush after Feyman, hand outstretched. The old man reaches out to Feyman’s shoulder.
“I said, what about the blo-“ The old man is interrupted by a blood curdling scream.
“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! FEYMANNNNNNN! Don’t touch him you haggardy old scrote!! I’ll have you!!!”Keardwall sprints onto the bridge, holding his jars in one hand and opening them with the other, fishing out a Holy Gherkin of Ranged Destruction and flinging it as violently as he can towards the dirty old man.
It misses!
Feyman wrestles with the old man’s surprisingly powerful grasp, and flees across the bridge, the blind questioner ambling quickly behind him.
“Feyman! Run! I shall hold them off! Save yourselves!”As he runs on one leg, horribly unbalanced but nevertheless making good progress along the huge expanse of the cavernous gap beneath, Keardwall grabs another Holy Gherkin of Ranged Destruction, and hurls it wantonly at the nasty bridgekeeper!
It hits!
It ricochets!
It… oh shit!
As the defenceless old man tumbles in slow motion over the side ropes of the bridge,
Keardwall watches in horror as the Holy Gherkin of Ranged Destruction flies back in an arc over him, sailing towards the terrified watching
Beadocáf. It hits the end of the bridge! It severs the end of the bridge! The end of the Bridge of Death tumbles down into the Gorge of Eternal Peril, an endless number of feet below!
Sir Feyman, mere inches from solid ground at the opposite end, just has time to grab hold of a rung of the Bridge of Death as it drops beneath him.
The rung of the Bridge of Death snaps!
Sir Feyman manages to grab the rung below!
The next rung of the Bridge of Death snaps!
Sir Feyman grabs another rung, which holds, and he dangles precariously from the rickety and fallen bridge. With his single arm he hangs there, glancing over his shoulder at the horrifying spectacle playing out above the Gorge of Eternal Peril.
Some hundred feet behind Feyman,
Sir Keardwall slips as the Bridge of Death starts to disappear under him. He just has time to grab hold of a rung of the bridge as it drops into the abyss, swinging towards the far end of the gorge.
The rung of the Bridge of Death snaps!
Keardwall manages to grab hold of the rung below!
The next rung of the Bridge of Death snaps!
He grasps at the rung after that!
The rung of the Bridge of Death after that snaps!
A hundred rungs of the Bridge of Death snap in quick succession, splitting into dust and splinters and dry rot as Keardwall hurtles downwards into the Gorge of Eternal Peril shouting obscenity after stony English obscenity.
“BLOODY FOREIGN BRIDGES! BEADOCAF!!!” start Keardwall’s last heard uttered words,
“TAKE CARE OF MY SPLEENE! PROMISE ME THAT YOU WILL SEE THAT NONE SHALL DO IT HARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGH!!!!!!”Titles Acquired: Sir Keardwall the Deceased, Creator of the Holy Exterior Spleen of Keardwall, Stony Defeater of Bandits, Destroyer of the Son of the Eel of Stafford, (the Terror of the West), Slayer of the Two-Headed Knight of the Wood of Doom, Soiler of Armour, Destroyer of the Bridge of Death and Saviour of Sir Feyman the Judging, Slayer of the Black Knight, Soiler of Underwear and Fiendish Smasher of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog… … … … … …
As Keardwall’s dying wishes vanish into the swirling mists of the Gorge of Eternal Peril, a large glass jar flies through the air towards the astonished
Beadocáf. It is the Jar of the Holy Exterior Spleen of Keardwall!
It shatters at his feet.
“Do it harrrrrrrgh?”… … … … … …
On the other side of the Gorge, hidden from sight by the monstrous mists, Beadocáf can hear
Ethlehed cry out.
“Feyman! Hold on goode Sir! Hold on! I shall pull you up! Oh shit, it’s the cops!”… … … … … …
Name: Sir Keardwall the Deceased, Creator of the Holy Exterior Spleen of Keardwall, Stony Defeater of Bandits, Destroyer of the Son of the Eel of Stafford, (the Terror of the West), Slayer of the Two-Headed Knight of the Wood of Doom, Soiler of Armour, Destroyer of the Bridge of Death and Saviour of Sir Feyman the Judging, Slayer of the Black Knight, Soiler of Underwear and Fiendish Smasher of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog.
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 in a jar of pickled eggs, a lower leg in a jar of gherkins with a hand.
Wounds: No lower left leg, smashed nose.
Name: Sir Feyman the Judging, Slayer of the Black Knight, Soiler of Underwear and Fiendish Smasher of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog.
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.
Lost Members: Naughty 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: 1/2.
Arms: 1/2.
Wounds Acquired: Smashed nose, smashed face.
Minstrels: 1/3.
Name: Sir Beadocáf Aethlearne the Rotund, Sacred Feller of the Tallest Tree on the Hillock of Fate.
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.
Lost Members: Godewine of Norwhyiche, an old friend and monk scholar who was witnessing his quest for chronicling purposes but fell to the temptations of spanking. Hagley the Squire, who joined Beadocáf to learn how to become a knight, but was instead flattened by the very man he sought to emulate.
Wounds Right hand bitten off by a rabbit.
Retinue Members: None.
Chivalry: 1.
Inventory: The Holy Crossbow of Beersheba, Renowned Slayer of the Green Dragon Name: Sir Ethlehed the Curious, Knower of Names, Taker of the Bridge of Doom.
Bio: It is said that curiosity killed the cat. Sir Ethlehed would remark that he is no cat and therefore perfectly safe. In fact, through absolutely dumb luck he has managed to survive everything his insatiable curiosity has brought him into, often at the cost of comically maimed retinue members. He is interested in absolutely everything and will frequently conduct experiments to satiate his curiosity. Again often at the expense of retinue. He wields a vaguely weapon-like contraption that has so far managed to elude a good description and could go horribly wrong at any moment. He also wields a sword, but it is rusty and blunt from years of neglect.
He is the kind of guy who compulsively pulls a lever to see what happens. He is also inexplicably lucky.
Lost Retinue Member: John the Snarker. A former fool who lost all of his humour while in Ethlehed's service. Crushed to death during Sir Ethlehed’s rescue from the Beast of Caerbannog.
Chivalry: 1.
Wound Acquired: Smashed nose
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Topic: Roll to Seek the Grail! (Read 50280 times)