488: Sir Gerin Slain!

Gobrwy the Bard sings:

Woe and sorrow
it cannot be!
The Story ends
for the Squires Three!

First there wert Gwinas
brave and true,
who defended Lord Merlin,
but was run through.

Second was Llyr,
mighty Owein's son,
who slew the bear,
but at Kent was done.

Third and last
Sir Gerin wert slain
his cloak was torn
on the Soisson plain!

Oh Mannanan son of Llyr
and Raven Bran, who's Head Lies near,
grant these heros glory be
and remember their names for eternity!

Sons of Salisbury
heed the call:
To war! To war!
For Vengeance all!

The Legend of Gerin's Cloak

This cloak has seen countless battles as it has passed from father to son since the time of Ellyd of Salisbury, Sir Gerin the Giantslayer's great grandfather. Ellyd grew up, the son of a freeman; farming a small plot of land east of Sarum. Having a modicum of success as a farmer, Ellyd worked hard and ate well on his family's farm, growing to be both tall and strong.
Tired and bored of such a dreay life, he ran away at fifteen to join the Roman legion where he soon rose to the rank of Optio, in Rome's VI Legion, named victrix. Ellyd served his garrison along Hadrian's wall in York where he saw the begining of the Pictish and Saxon invasion.
Upon leaving the Legion, Ellyd returned to Salisbury to start a family. In the year 410 AD, with the words of his Emporor Honorius, "look to your own defenses," ringing hollow, he took off his Cloak of the Legion and swaddled his newborn son in it. Ellyd renounced his Roman citizenship, earned through his service in the Legion, and would never dawn the cloak again, but instead retired to his land where he taught his son the art of war while farming his small plot of land. This land would become known as Wylye Manor under his son's rule.
This Cloak of the Legion is made of heavy wool and has been dyed primary red. It has been patched numerous times, but has been meticulously maintained throughout the years. Gerin's family's greatest Heirloom, it serves as a reminder of Ellyd's taking up of arms in the Roman Legion and the rise of the family into nobility through their strength. A rare sight in modern Logres, this cloak's fiery red can be seen leagues away.
The cloak is fastened by its original Fibula, made in the classic crossbow design of its time. The bronze brooch has been equally maintained as the cloak itself, polished regularly, it's artisan quality engraving of a Bull is the envy of many a court. The bull, being the VI Legion's symbol, further reminds Gerin of the strength it will take to rid Britain of it's barbarian invasion.

487: The Sons of Owein Perish!

Gobrwy the Bard sings:

I sing a tale of woe this day,
no song of joy or merriment,
A Saxon curr hath taken away
two knights in far off Kent.

One was Sir Llyr, who slew the Bear,
the other, his brother Sir Fane.
Two sons of Salisbury, each to God's care,
no more to suffer our pain.

Away with Madoc ap Uther they stormed
by sea and river and beach.
Alas, at Dover the devils were warned
and two Saxons there were for each.

With strength of arm and God's grace
the brothers faught with might,
so that friend and foe, of either race,
dropped lances out of fright.

A Saxon dog named Hildebane,
an unsavory villein from hell,
snuck upon Llyr and then upon Fane
and struck each with wounds too fell.

And laughed did he this madman brute,
as the Brothers Two did fall.
Is there none among the sons of Nudd
who will heed the Vengeance Call?

This is a crop they may not keep,
these Saxon sons of whores:
For every Cyrmic knight they reap,
bury twelve Saxons in the moors!

Sins of the Father

The healer and priest told me bed rest was in store for me this winter...

They told me my wound would last longer than this winter...
They may be right about my scar, but this winter, I would not have time to sleep...

His grace, Earl Roderick granted my petition to be wed. Facing such dark times, I know our noble land needs many strong Cymrics to face the growing threat of Saxon invasion. Our torching of their boats will only slow their migration. And seeing the lives lost in our efforts, I know it is my duty to Lord Roderick to beget and train strong sons to continue the fight. On a quite sunday morning, I wed Maugelie of Shrewton, a young maiden of seventeen, I prayed that night that she would bear me many boys of hearty constitution...

Maugelie's dowry will serve me well, I will have to tour Shrewton Manor soon. Her father, Sir Arawain, may be an ally in court, but with only one living sister and no heir, I cannot trust in his family to aid me in battle or in protection of my new land. I guess he granted Earl Roderick's request, knowing my strong arm would protect Shrewton and his daughter in the coming days.
My wound healed quickly, but left a scar across my left eye, I touch it and remember my father...

I did not know before this winter that my hatred for the Saxons could be any stronger, but with each passing night, staring out into the rain, a fire grows in my heart. My dreams are haunted by that soulless savage who struck me down. I can see his face and know he is taunting me. He defeated me and then turned and slew Llyr. I will seek this beast out, this I vow. This fire I know will only be put out by my sword in a Saxon belly...

Gerin the Giantslayer
487 A.D. Wylye Manor

GM's Note: Near Total Party Kill!

I almost had a Total Party Kill (TPK) last night. If it weren't for Sir Gerin going unconscious at the last minute, I would have not only killed off all the major characters, but all the back-up characters as well!

It might have been a TPK +.

486: Sir Gwinas dies!

Alas, the noble Christian Knight, Sir Gwinas fell whilst defedynge Merlyn the Magicioun from a fetyd Creatour of Hell. He is survived by his mother, Lady Branne of Baverstock, and two sisters, both of whom will soon be ripe for marriage.

May the Soul of Sir Gwinas be committed to Christ and fynd peace everlastynge.

485: The Battle of Mearcred Creek

To the Abbot of St Anselmo di Aventino,
in the Holy See of Rome, be this lettre take.

I write this messaj in greate earnest to report that all does not go well in Britannia. The Enemies of the Faith, the Heathyn Saxon hordes have caused no end to worry and even our gracious King Uther seems hard pressed. For as the summer campaigne drew high, he met on the battle field the South Saxons under Alle, who is a soverign king of those who occupy the old Cantiaci lands. King Uther's glorieuse knights crossed the River Mearcred and engaged the horde and fought a pitched battle, from Prime to Sext, that only managed to check and enhaust either side. The Abbot Constrensus reports that there were mass dissertions on both sides after heavy losses, again equally on both sides. Were it not for our Roman trained knights all would have surely been lost and all Logres overrun.

Most worringly, my good friend the Abbot confides that Nephilim have arisen again, and that among the Saxons themselves were giants from the Old Times. Surely Christ was on our side for King Uther to have checked such a host! Surely we must not forget our most holy charge:

Mortui non vivent, gigantes resurgent.
Isaiah 26:14

Our Good Christian knights fought with the courage of lions, though, and, yea, it is such men as these that hold this fractured land together. The Abbot Constrensus tells tale of one such unit, composed of Knights of Earl Roderick, of Salisbury. They were a young band, newly knighted that season, and every member of their unit, save three, was sent to Heaven and their commander captured. The three young knights rallied under one of their own, a vassal, Sir Gerin fis de Leslie, who picked up the fallen banner and led his comrades wild against a sea of berserking heathyns, sending many back to stinking Hell. It was reported that Sir Gerin fell, but was rescued from the field by friend and squire, and heals now with the Sisters of Perpetual Diligence-in-Chastity, who tendeth his wounds under the guiding hand of Our Lord.

Alas, all does not go well, despite the bravery of men such as our King Uther and his Knights. Another Saxon host, crossed by sea and breached the fortress ring of Caercolum, a bulwark of our Eastern Shore. At Colchester, Duke Lucius was forced to retreat and the Saxons are now on both sides of the River Themesis. Londinium is now vulnerable from North and South shores. I tell you this out of pity and caritas for the good people of the civitas there, many of whome are the devout faithful and benefactors of Your Moste Holy Roman Church. Not a few are makinge the decisioun to leave, but most have faith in Our Lord and in our gracious King Uther, and trade goes on for now.

I write in haste, already knowinge your answer to my ultimate question. You cannot garner support to pay for a Papal Envoy to the Senate so that soldiers can be sent to defend our Eastern Shore. Such has been your answer before and I have no reason to suspect that it has changed. I can only pray that Our Lord moves your heart and that you remembre the sufferinge and plight of your Faithful in Londinium, whose tireless and at times lavish support of Holy Mother Church surely deserves notice by the Father in Rome.

Despite our small difference in minor matters of faith, I remain ever Your Brother in Christ,
The Abbot of St. Albans

The Squires Three Are Knighted!

Gobrwy the Bard sings:

I sing a tale of fresh new youth,
with brazen airs and short-in-tooth,
a baudy group of squires three,
in the deep green woods of Salisbury.

They hunt a beast with terrible claw,
black as night and fierce of jaw,
with rows of teeth like daggers be,
in the deep green woods of Salisbury.

For days and nights the companions ride,
sniffing at spoor and bits of hide,
they close in on the beast and strike with glee,
in the deep green woods of Salisbury.

With might of arm Squire Llyr did slash,
and killed the beast with bloodied gash,
and hung its hide from a drying tree
in the deep green woods of Salisbury.

The Squires Three to their master returned,
and all at Court their adventures learned.
Maidens and damosels swooned to see,
the brave Young Squires of Salisbury.

At Winter Court in Sarum's Hall,
Our most gracious, most generous Earl did call
for the knighting of the Squires Three,
who killed the Beast of Salisbury.

They stayed awake in solemn prayer,
at vigil on the church's stair,
In Jesu's name it came to be,
each Made the Leap in Salisbury!

The Story of Sir Leslie

Welcome reader, please sit awhile and join me in a cup of mead. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Gerin of Wylye, son of Leslie. I am but a humble squire nearing the completion of my training. But my tale is as yet not one worth spinning, instead let me share with you the glorious story of my father, Sir Leslie!

The story of Sir Leslie of Salisbury can truely begin on one dark night in the year 463, "The night of Long Knives" as that evil evening would become known. My father would not speak much of that night, save it was one which cost him his left eye, many of his brother knights, and his lord, The Earl of Salisbury. He fought the vile Saxons, led by the traitor Vortigern, deep into the night. Upon surviving to see the dawn, he emerged a changed man. He vowed that morning to make the Saxons pay for their savagery. He also began taking trophys from defeated Saxons, cutting out their eyes.

The next winter he was wed to my mother, Lady Ester of Wylye. Their's was a marrage of state, not of love. I don't believe my father was capable of enjoying much after that fateful night.
Newly married, my father marched with Aurelius Ambrosius to take back our land, fighting at the Siege of Carlion. Maybe it would not of made a diference, but forced to serve garrison duty, Sir Leslie fumed when in 468, Vortigern was killed at the battle of Snowden, all the while my father was forced to sit playing cards in some keep. He became bitter and taught me much of the Saxon's devilish ways and trickery that winter.

Throughout my childhood, I remember he would campaign against the Saxon invasion returning with more and more trophies, Until the summer of my 13th year of life, 480, when Sir Leslie marched with King Aurelius and Lord Uther. It was at the Battle of Salibury where my father rode with Uther Pendragon. Sir Leslie tells he personnally slew two dozen savages and indeed, he earned the respect of the soon to be King Uther. With the glory he earned at the battle, Sir Leslie was invited and present for both King Aurelius's funeral and the coronation of King Uther.
I rememer that year, for I would begin my training to become a knight the next summer. That winter I saw my father laugh for the first time. It was as if at the battle of Salisbury my father began to feel he at last accomplished his vow to repay the Saxons. It was a time for celebration at Wylye manor.

After some well deserved rest, in the year 484, Sir Leslie once again took up arms and marched with King Uther to fight the Saxons. Serviving the battle of Eburacum, it is said that on the next evening, during the night raid upon the drunk and celebrating Saxons, he removed his eyepatch and with a fury proceeded to slaughter unsuspecting Saxons! But eager for more glory, he immediatly continued to the battle of Mt Damon where he received a fatal belly wound. He survived the long trek home only to die in his bed. Seeing my father survive three nights of fever and pain, cursing the Saxons to his last breath, I could only pray that our land will one day be free of their flithy presence. Upon his deathbed my father bade me to take up his vow and I knew my life will be spent fulfilling this oath. I will not rest as long as a single saxon remains upon this great isle, bespoiling our peace!

Gerin, son of Leslie 485 A.D.

Squire Gwinas Sends a Letter Home

In the Yeare of Our Lorde 485, to Baverstock Manor be this lettre tayke.

To my moste honorable mother, the Lady Branne. I am pleased to dictayte this lettre to this upryght scrybe who is in the moste excellent service to our Lord Roderick, Earl of Salisbury. Know then that upon your readynge of this lettre I am fyn and in goodlye healthe, of sound mynde and bodye. My sprits are high at the moment, as my goodlye companyons, the most excellente squires, Gerin of Wylyeyee and Llyr of Wynterbourne , and your son, that is, myself, are about to embarke on a grande adventyre of grayte importaunce to all of Salisbury.

But firste I must relayte a humerous tale that you, my lovynge mothyr must tell my sisters, as I know they are wont of good tellynges of tales that make them laff. I am pleased to tell you that I won the horserace between the beste squires under the care of Sir Elad, the Marshall of our Lord Roderick's entire armye. He presented me with great honour for my excellente horsemanshipe. Do you remember young Gerin of Wyleyeeye Manor, not too far from Baverstock? Well, he fell three tymes durynge the race and I nearlye laffed so hard that I almoste fell myself! I thyng I am going to calle him "Thumpity Thump" for a goodly long time. Thumpity Thump Gerin he shall be!

Llyr of Wynterborne came in seconds and wert an goodlye rider. He had a ruff patch tryinge to control that most excellente courser he inherited from his father' stables. I am jealous for the owning of such a lovely steed is surely a sign of grayte honour. Thems from Winterbournes always been a goodly ridynge bunch, and I learn moste from just watchinge him ride.
In a shorte tyme, my mother, your son and his companions will be off to the vilage of Imber up north a ways where we'll meet a priest of God. We are to hunt a terrifynge Bear who hath been eatynge peasants. I know that we will fynde this greate beaste and the three Companyons will end his terror.

For now I leave you, my moste honorable mother, with great joy and peace. May God be with you and my sisters.

Your Gwinas, at Vagon Castle, in Sir Elad's land.

Introduction to Pendragon

What a great night and what a great group of guys! Seriously, I had a blast. One of the players, a chef, baked meat pies in honor of the game's genre. I heartily recommend having a chef as a player!

The players rolled their characters last night. We used the King Arthur Pendragon, 5th Edition rules to produce two Cymric knights...well, squires, actually. They'll be introducing themselves on this blog a bit later on.

For the first time I used the Family History & Fatherland option and the players learned about their great-grandfathers, grandfathers, and fathers. Both of their grandfathers died early on, but their fathers miraculously made it to 484, before the mandatory papa-kill of that year. I really liked the flow of the system, and how it creates a background for characters rooted in Arthurian pre-history. It also nicely establishes a reason for defending and loving the starting homeland of Salisbury. As a suggestion to Greg, perhaps creating such a system for other homelands would be of value for future supplements?

We also started the Introduction Scenario, also a first for me. I loved how it taught basic Pendragon mechanics and fostered jovial camaraderie and playful rivalry between the players.

We'll be playing again this Sunday and I can't wait. We'll finish the Introduction Scenario and get the players knighted.

The Game is On! (finally...)

Next Tuesday (November 6) I'll be GMing a small group of excellent players. It's taken months just to assemble this small group, but we'll be playing The Great Pendragon Campaign, baby.

One of the problems with playing Pendragon is that it's a "niche" game - a game with a relatively small, but remarkably dedicated following. It's a real shame, because the game is simply one of the best rpg's out there. It just doesn't get advertised or promoted the way that it should. As a result, finding players is difficult at best.

But, I hope that by starting this group in San Francisco, others will find out about the game and start playing it.

Dungeons & Dragons is dead. Long live Pendragon.

Pendragon in San Francisco

A new King Arthur Pendragon, 5th ed. group is forming in San Francisco to play the award-winning Great Pendragon Campaign. The campaign is long, gritty, and realistic. Each game session is a full year of your character's life. What kind of knight will you be? Will you be the lord of many rich manors? Will you be an aimless, errant knight looking for adventure? Do you have the will and courage to become a Knight of the Table Round? You will die. How you live your life and how you die is up to you!