Forty first turn!
England; the Dark Ages; half past Tuesday; the Cave of Caerbannog."Ah, dear Sire Knight Conchobar,” begins
Beadocáf,
“Omnes vulnerant, postuma necat or omnes feriunt, ultima necat. A truly worthy companion, sed mors vincit omnia."
“What?” asks
Keardwall,
“And do you know your ruddy hand’s come off? I’ve got a jar that’s useful for that kind of thing if you care to share. Anyway. 'Tis a shame, Sir Conchobar, but know this: Ye died bravely, and in the Holy service of the Great King Arthur! Rest in Peace, my friend."Keardwall gathers up his jars before setting them down again to rummage about in the terrifying rabbit’s remains to see if anything’s left of his once mighty broadsword. The skin on his hand starts burning with the horrific rabbit’s atrocious stomach acid! He finds not even a hilt! He lets out a bellowing cry of distress [1]!
“I say,” says
Feyman,
“That reminds me! Venture onward with me, boys, for we did hear a fairer cry of distress mere minutes ago, and my last fair damsel desired for me to spank her! And you all know how well that turned out." Feyman wistfully thinks back to how things could have been, but is swiftly interrupted.
“Right-oh,” Keardwall agrees,
“Although I think we should say a prayer for the deceased… splattered… mutilated… the… er… gosh, that’s horrible. What the bloody hell came over you Sir Feyman? Well, let’s just leave him spread all over the rock there I suppose. Probably easiest. Should clean up with a spot of rain and luck. Unless you care to utter some more Latin at him, Sir Beatacalf? Come on, let’s go. No one can resist a good bit of damsel rescuing.”“Eh what sorry? Oh. Yes. The jar. I’d be delighted, dear fellow. I was just wondering how one would reattach such a limb. Sure Godewyne would have known… Blast those damsels! Here I am, missing a hand, and he probably doesn’t even nee- gosh. He’s probably got both his hands f- hmm. I say. Now. Is it a goat’s bladder, or perhaps you are supposed to stick both severedities and stumps into an anthill for three days and five moons? Surely there’s some arsenic involved somehow too…”Beadocáf’s eyes glaze over for a second and then spark back to life.
“That’s it! A goat’s bladder soaked in arsenic can be used to reattach limbs [5]! Gosh, I wonder what else I’d know if I’d paid more attention to master Scrydan when I was a boy. Hey! Keardwall! I say! Come back! I need a goat! Feyman! Blast.”Picking up his severed hand and the Holy Crossbow of Beersheba, Beadocáf jogs on down the cave mouth to catch up with his fellow knights.
"Onwards we go, then. Per aspera ad astra!”… … … … … …
Onwards, indeed, trek the brave knights. Through the darkness they trek, ever downwards and ever deeper, taking care in their assorted states not to trip and fall on a slimy rock or a greasy stair.
From time to time they hear once more,
Help! Help! and their noble thoughts of chivalric damsel rescuing spur them on. After fully ten minutes of heart stopping night-black tension and stumbling they suddenly come out of the main tunnel they have been following and into an enormous cavern lit the whole way round by burning torches. And there, at the far end, they see a figure, clearly chained to the wall. Clearly in need of rescuing! Clearly in distress!
And clearly, as they approach, far too bearded to be a damsel, or at least one they might particularly want to rescue.
“Hello?! I say! Would you mind awfully getting me out of here? I was off looking for the location of the Holy Grail, in fact, with my fool – don’t know if you’ve seen him about? – anyway, I was looking for this inscription, but instead I found this lever, so I pulled it, of course, and fell through this hole, and then this bloody great Beast leapt out and beat me senseless, and then, well, when I came round I was chained to this bloody rock, splayed apart waiting for this ferocious bloody rabbit to come and peck my liver off and… oh, how rude of me. Sir Ethlehed the Curious at your service! How do you do!”Name: Sir Keardwall the Exteriorly Spleened, Stony Defeater of Bandits, Destroyer of the Son of the Eel of Stafford, Terror of the West, Slayer of the Two-Headed Knight of the Wood of Doom and Soiler of Armour.
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, 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: 1.
Duels Won: 1/2.
Arms: 1/2.
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: 0.
Inventory: The Holy Crossbow of Beersheba, Renowned Slayer of the Green Dragon Name: Sir Ethlehed the Curious
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.
Retinue Member: John the Snarker. A former fool who lost all of his humour while in Ethlehed's service. Now an insufferable pessimist who finds himself right very often.
Chivalry: 1
((I don't know if I should keep the speech in italics - I did it first to break it up when there is a great deal of text without quoted actions to break it up... But I'm not sure now. I'm open to suggestions, as always. Also, scriver, no problem
))
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Topic: Roll to Seek the Grail! (Read 51071 times)