Fiftieth turn! No, really!
England; the Dark Ages; Thursday; L’Isle de L’Homard.“Oh noes! A flower troll!” cries Sir Feyman, “I can has weapon?”“Blast!” exclaims
Sir Feyman,
“I did but recently discard my sword, and now a flower troll? What devilry is this?!”"Gods!! I did not come this far to be slewn by a boisterous blossom!" points out
Beadocáf as he unslings his Holy Crossbow of Beersheba in readiness to shoot the beast.
“No!!! This fiend is MINE,” shouts
Sir Ethlehed, pushing aside his companions. Sir Beadocáf tumbles to the ground as Ethlehed bursts forward, leaving his companion fallen to the floor and cursing his impetuousness.
“Blast it, Ethlehed! I should have tossed you into yon lake! I say, Feyman, what the devil do you think you’re doing? Have you dropped a contact lens? I’d gladly lend a hand, but I’m rather busy at the moment. Fighting a flower troll, don’t you know,” finishes
Beadocáf, as he gets to his feet and brings the Holy Crossbow of Beersheba to his shoulder.
“Eureka! Or something,” announces
Feyman, as he stops stooping about the ground and pushes past Beadocáf, knocking him down and then running towards the flower troll at top speed.
“I really don’t know why I was searching about yon beach for pebbles to wield!” he wonders breathlessly,
”The answer lieth before mine eyes!”“Bloody hell Feyman, you oaf! Come back here! I shall take down this monstrosity!” decides Beadocáf, getting to his feet and starting to prepare his Holy Crossbow of Beersheba for firing once more.
… … … … … …
Oblivious to the Holy Crossbow rising to Beadocáf’s shoulder several dozen yards behind him,
Ethlehed continues his brave assault, charging at the top of his voice towards the dastardly flower troll.
“MNNNNYARRRRRRRRRRRGHL!!”
“Noooooooooo! Ethlehed! Stay your… er… complicated looking bladey thing! This foul beast is mine!”
“No way, Sir Feyman, I desire the honour of slaying this monster! I shall not yield! I must not!”
“No no,” attempts to explain
Feyman,
“Let me explain! I want to wield the monster! I must!”“I don’t follow…” admits Ethlehed, looking bewildered as Feyman sprints up and smacks the hulking beast down to the floor with a one armed rugby tackle.
“Ah! I see! You are immobilising the brute so I can nobly behead him with my… er… sharp contraption! Well done Sir Feyman! Most heroic I must say! Now, stand aside please! Let me handle this: I am far better armed and er... Yes. Anyway.”Ethlehed brings his… er… pointy thing in a metallic arc of death overhead, and it smashes down upon the flower troll’s dainty neck!
It is bruised in twain!
The spine is severed! The ears are burst! The head is removed! The flower troll is struck down!
Title Acquired: Sir Ethlehed the Curious Flower Troll Slayer, Knower of Names, Taker of the Bridge of Doom, and Rescuer of Sir Feyman!“Noooooooooooooooooo!” laments the one armed Feyman as he gets back to his feet,
“I wanted that to replace my sword you dolt! How can I storm Castle L’Homard with one arm and no sword?! Oh bloody hell. Who’s going to take me seriously wielding a headless flower troll in combat? Eh? I’ll bloody show ‘em! I’ll do it anyway! Bloody French!”Feyman bends to hoist up the flower troll’s bleeding and flower strewn corpse, before remembering how to lift correctly, and then bends his knees, trying as best he can to keep his back straight.
He lifts the headless corpse onto his shoulder, preparing to wield it in the forthcoming siege!
He wobbles under the weight!
He staggers about as the troll begins to sway from side to side!
“Good god man,” blurts out
Feyman,
“Don’t just stand there! Help me, Ethlehed! Grab his leg or something, help me gain a solid grip, this corpse has caught the wind and means to escape my grasp!”… … … … … …
“I say,” says the hitherto silent
Sir Uriel to Beadocáf, as he peers into the mildly distant combat,
“Yon headless troll lives on! It is gaining the upper hand upon our comrades! It thrusts poor Feyman from side to side! We must aid our fellow knights! Charrrrggge!!”Sir Uriel charges forth to reinforce his ailing comrades!
Sir Uriel trips upon a nearby rock! He falls to the ground! He smashes his kidney!
Wound Acquired: Smashed Kidney!
“Beadocáf!” he moans from the floor,
“You must do something! That troll shall be the end of us all! Open fire with yon crossbow!”As the two men wrestle with the troll corpse some fifty yards ahead,
Beadocáf, urged on by Uriel’s desperate pleas for intervention, finally fully raises his Holy Crossbow of Beersheba. He takes aim! He fires!
The recoil is horrendous!
He is flung back many feet! He flies back into the boat! His heavy armour smashes directly through the floor! The metallic weight crashes through the hull! Beadocáf and the boat begin to sink!
… … … … … …
“ARGGGGGLLLLLLBARGL!!!”
“Ethlehed?”
“GNNNNNNNARRGGGGGGGLFARG!!!!”
“What’s the matter?”
“FNNNNNGGNNNGNNNGARHHHH!!!!!”
“Ooh, I say. Do you know you have a troll’s leg pinned to your thigh?”Wound Acquired: Ethlehed: Pierced thigh!
… … … … … …
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 Merciless Drowner of Old Men, Rotund Feller of the Tallest Tree on the Holy 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 Flower Troll Slayer, Knower of Names, Taker of the Bridge of Doom, and Rescuer of Sir Feyman.
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; Pierced thigh
Name:
Sir Uriel Ultim The Entirely Lacking in Depth Perception
Bio:
A knight to be reckoned with. He has an imaginary trusty steed which isn't as trusted as it should be,
a shiny armor which often gets soiled in combat,
a great shield wich is dent bent and sligtly curled,
a sparkling blade which is often ridiculed for its sparkles.
Oh Did I mention Sir Uriel Was entirely lacking in depth perception?
Retinue Member:
Goofus Ridiculus, a Jester whom was originally hired to keep Uriel The Entirely Lacking in Depth Perception in good mood with witty jokes and humor.
Too bad he only know horribly bad puns, and he just can't get rid of this guy no matter what he have tried.
Wound Acquired: Smashed kidney
Chivalry: 1.
Author
Topic: Roll to Seek the Grail! (Read 50992 times)