Fifty fourth turn!
England; the Dark Ages; Thursday lunchtime; Chateau de L’Homard.A short distance from the castle gates, the four knights huddle together.
“We need to devise yon battle-plan!” screams
Sir Ethlehed, smearing human waste all over his face and rubbing it vigorously into his eyes. He hops off screaming wildly! He hops face first into the castle wall!
Wound Acquired: Ordure firmly in the eyes! (-2 to seeing until it is cleaned!)
Wound Acquired: Re-re-smashed nose!
Wound Acquired: Unconscious!
“Well,” proposes
Sir Uriel,
“That is one possible course of action, I suppose. Now, what I propose is that I er… well… Yes. No! A plan! I have it! ‘Tis foolproof! I shall march valiantly up to the castle gates, challenge the perfidious French-type to a duel, and then surrender. Then, upon being taken captive, I shall leap free, and open the castle gates, thus letting you, my brave companions, into the castle! Right!” he finishes, galloping towards the fortress,
“Prepare yourselves for yon glory, brave friends! Hide by yon castle gates as soon as I am inside!”… … … … … …
As his companion Sir Uriel marches valiantly up to the castle gates,
Sir Beadocáf also decides that some form of subterfuge or infiltration might be the best way to defeat the French, and accordingly decides to take a stroll around the castle walls whilst Uriel distracts them. The French, heavy smokers as they are, are sure to have installed proper ventilation, so it strikes him that perhaps a ventilation shaft might be a likely target. He remembers well his history lessons and the fate of the impregnable castle in the Holy Land that fell to just such an attack.
“I wonder why they smoke so much though?” he wonders, as he hears a loud knocking on the castle gate in the distance.
He carries on walking, now out of sight of his companions before the castle.
“Perhaps it is to serve as some form of perfume? To mask another odour? I have heard, of course, that many tribes in the Baltic smoke as a sign of respect,” he continues, as he hears a loud cry of
En Garde! ring out from the gates on the other side of the castle.
He turns another corner of the vast stone walls and the lake comes back into view.
“Aha! I knew it! Here be yon ventilation shaft! Odd that it should be so low ‘pon the ground, but never mind! No time to be picky, I suppose,” he decides, as he hears a distant shout of, he assumes, feigned terror from the castle gates.
“Oh! Help! Help! I surrender! Help! Oh blast. Rope? I wasn’t expecting any bloody rope. Eh! I say! Stop that!”“Sir Uriel seems to be playing his part to perfection,” Beadocáf continues,
“Good man, eh! Now, let’s get infiltrating this ventilation shaft, what?”… … … … … …
Sir Feyman, as Sir Uriel had suggested, had waited for several minutes after his companion had let himself be taken captive before taking up his position by the gates of Castle L’Homard, and now he had been standing there for long enough to start getting a little fidgety. Bored, maybe. Jealous, even, that his questing comrades were having all the fun whilst he had been left to stand outside waiting for the filthy faced Ethlehed to wake up.
He could swear he just heard a distant cry of distress.
Help, help, it had sounded like,
I’m stuck in a sewage pipe! Blast and bugrit!No, he must have imagined it. His eagerness for battle was clearly getting the better of him as it sometimes used to when he was but a young squire.
No, but there it was again! Feyman was sure he could recognise Sir Beadocáf’s learned and rotund voice even in the heat of battle, and this was a quiet Thursday afternoon. Blast it! Beadocáf must have been captured! The dastardly French must be torturing him! They were trying to make him… wait. What were they trying to make him do? Was it a trap? No, he wouldn’t move. The instructions had been clear: he would wait discreetly by the castle gates until Uriel opened them for Feyman and Ethlehed to charge valiantly in!
State Acquired: Sir Beadocáf: Rotundly stuck in a sewage pipe!
Good lord! There it was again! No! It was a diff- Gosh! It was clearly Uriel’s voice this time! Had the French-types taken him too? Were they on to their cunning plan?
Help, help, it sounded like,
I’m imprisoned in a cell! Help! Oh, bloody hell. It was possible, thinks Feyman. Uriel had gone unarmed into the lion’s den after all, so to speak. Blast. It must be a trap! It must!
State Acquired: Sir Uriel: Imprisoned in a cell!
… … … … … …
Even if yon cries be a trap,
Sir Feyman decides bravely to himself, if my comrades are in grave danger I must act! What would my dear departed Keardwall do? By Jove! Yes! I have it!
… … … … … …
As
Sir Ethlehed starts to come round at the foot of the castle wall, he seems to see
Sir Feyman walk some distance away from the castle. He is wielding his Headless Flower Troll one handed, and twirling it in the air with considerable force.
Ethlehed rolls over onto his back, and contemplates getting up. As he does so, he sees the blurry figure of Sir Feyman charge with the bravery and force of fully a hundred knights up towards the gates of Castle L’Homard! Sir Feyman bellows a ferocious battle cry! He twirls his Headless Flower Troll! He reaches the gate! The Headless Flower Troll smashes brutally against the vast oak! The gate splinters in twain! The wood splinters into tiny bits! The gate is taken!
“Oooh, bloody hell,” says Ethlehed,
“I’d best get a move on! Why’s everything so brown and blurry? What the devil is that awful smell? Oh well, no time for that. Charrrge!! For King Arthur!”State Acquired: Sir Ethlehed: Conscious!
… … … … … …
“Chaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggge!!!” cries
Feyman, rushing like a one armed bull armed with a headless flower troll through the ruins of the castle gate,
“Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggee!!!!”Feyman bursts into the castle courtyard. He surprises four French men-at-arms sitting about smoking. They turn to face him, and move to get up. They seem too surprised to sound the alarm!
Chivalry Increased! Taken the castle gates!
… … … … … …
Name: Sir Feyman the Judging Saviour of Sir Beadocáf, 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
Weaponry: Headless Flower Troll Corpse.Chivalry: 5.
Duels Won: 1/2.
Arms: 1/2.
Wounds Acquired: Re-smashed nose; Re-smashed Face! (Ye face is covered in blood! And dirt! -2 to seeing until it is cleaned off!).
Minstrels: 1/3.
Name: Sir Beadocáf Aethlearne of the Sandy Crotch, Merciless Drowner of Old Men and 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 Retinue 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: Re-re-smashed nose; Left leg pulled off; Pierced (left) thigh; Re-smashed face! (Yon face is smeared all over with blood! -1 to seeing until it is wiped away!); Ordure firmly in the eyes! (-2 to seeing until it is cleaned!); Injured hand.
Inventory: Left leg.
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; Smashed face.
Chivalry: 2.
Author
Topic: Roll to Seek the Grail! (Read 51002 times)