Ahh, the poor Sir Orwaine. Growing up, Sir Llywell was strong and confident, always running around with his wooden sword, beating on some peasant or stableboy. With such an energetic eldest son, all thought Thystle would pass over Orwaine and make a great knight as the youngest; while the middle son, Orwaine having the make up to enter the Church would be shared a life of war. But when the Druids came a calling, they choose Thystle and thus Orwaine was destined to train in the Knightly arts, despite his sensitive makeup.
With Sir Llywell running off into the woods, ranting about home and hospitality; the Manor of Coleridge now falls to the Poor Weeping Orwaine...
A good son and good vassel of the child Bermaine of Up Avon, Son of Sir Cassius; Sir Orwaine will do his best to protect the County of Salisbury, but will his strength of character make up for his lacking strength of arms?
511 AD
The good Pastor Brugan
Monday, September 15, 2008
Monday, September 08, 2008
Lady Adewaine
Sir Llywell, slayer of Prince Cynric, sat drinking his mead. Twas a joyful court this year, 511, the boy, King Arthur sits upon the throne of Logres, the harvest was plentiful, and King Lot and his allies were beaten back last summer with little threat of repeating it this comming spring.
Sir Llywell, an almost-famous Knight, sat in the middle of the hall. Not yet a lord, but a man known for his strength in battle and for wielding a deadly axe. He enjoyed himself, sharing stories of valor and games of chance with other knight of his rank. His miscevious brother and Bard, Thystle the Magnificent was elsewere this winter, leaving Llywell lonely. For Thystle could always set a court ablaze with either smashing success or abject failure in his performances. The story of Thystle presenting Cynric's head at the climax of telling the tale of the Battle of Netty Marsh was still told on occasion. Of Sir Llywell's 1000 librum Blood Ransom the Saxons had put on his head. Of his cutting through four bodyguards before taking off Cynric head in one fell strike. But with no brother around this winter, Llywell was bored.
Bored, that is until a lovely youth lady met his eye one evening. Fresh from his successful hunt of a unicorn, Llywell approached the youth maid and asked her if she'd be interested in seeing the trophy he'd kept from the unicorn. Blushing at the sight of the horn, the Lady Adewaine smiled and took a liking to this knight from Salisbury.
And thus began the courtship of Lady Adewaine of Lambor by Sir Llywell of Salisbury.
Sir Llywell, an almost-famous Knight, sat in the middle of the hall. Not yet a lord, but a man known for his strength in battle and for wielding a deadly axe. He enjoyed himself, sharing stories of valor and games of chance with other knight of his rank. His miscevious brother and Bard, Thystle the Magnificent was elsewere this winter, leaving Llywell lonely. For Thystle could always set a court ablaze with either smashing success or abject failure in his performances. The story of Thystle presenting Cynric's head at the climax of telling the tale of the Battle of Netty Marsh was still told on occasion. Of Sir Llywell's 1000 librum Blood Ransom the Saxons had put on his head. Of his cutting through four bodyguards before taking off Cynric head in one fell strike. But with no brother around this winter, Llywell was bored.
Bored, that is until a lovely youth lady met his eye one evening. Fresh from his successful hunt of a unicorn, Llywell approached the youth maid and asked her if she'd be interested in seeing the trophy he'd kept from the unicorn. Blushing at the sight of the horn, the Lady Adewaine smiled and took a liking to this knight from Salisbury.
And thus began the courtship of Lady Adewaine of Lambor by Sir Llywell of Salisbury.
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
GM's Note: The Blogging Age...sigh...
I hate blogging. There, I said it. I've never been good at this kind of thing; I've never even maintained a diary or journal. But I have gotten some complimentary emails about our game, and I'm grateful. I'm also grateful that Isaac, a player in the group, put some effort and gussied the blog up.
No worries, we're still playing and we're in year 512.
Don't worry, the blog will be updated...soon. :)
Monday, July 21, 2008
The Battle of Nettly Marsh
The spring rains came on time this year. I can't remember the last time this occurred, I must of been a boy at my father's side, before we realizd Thyslyee was special...
I've never seen Sarum so busy! Squires and pages running everywhere! So many Knights bearing the livery of so many different kingdoms. I did my best to just take it all in, not make a fool of myself at court, stay out of the many lord's way, prepare for my first battle this summer...
Too think, being knighted this past winter, just in time to fight alongside our future King, Nentalead! I got a chance to see him at court, he truely is a King among Men! Standing alongside Countess Ellen, I'm betting when we return home, victorious, a wedding will be announced.
Sir Llywell
Spring 508 A.D.
I've never seen Sarum so busy! Squires and pages running everywhere! So many Knights bearing the livery of so many different kingdoms. I did my best to just take it all in, not make a fool of myself at court, stay out of the many lord's way, prepare for my first battle this summer...
Too think, being knighted this past winter, just in time to fight alongside our future King, Nentalead! I got a chance to see him at court, he truely is a King among Men! Standing alongside Countess Ellen, I'm betting when we return home, victorious, a wedding will be announced.
Sir Llywell
Spring 508 A.D.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
507: Woe to Salisbury! The Marshall is Dead!
To His Higness, King Nanteleod, Lord of Wales, in Carlion, be this lettre tayke.
My fryend to the northe, saviour of my son's county, it is wyth the utmoste sadness and horror that I relayte the news of the death of my son-in-law, Sir Cassius of Tisbury, Lord Marshall of my son's army. As you know, he wert wounded graytely by a cur knight of King Idris' at the Battle of Somerset Marsh and suffered for weeks upon his arrival here at Sarum. My owne daughter, the lovelye and goodlye Lady Jenna, his devoted wyf, tended to him personalye, but to no avayle. In the fyfth week of his internment, his strength left him and he rendered up the ghost to the bosom of Our Ladye in Heaven, Mother of Christ. He restes now from his long service to my son, Robert. Alas, my daughter is beset with gryf and hath byn taken unto seclusioun with the Queen at Amesburye.
The Lord Marshall's considerable holdyngs of Tisbury and Upavon have been granted to my grandson, Germine of the Fey, who wert knichted soon followynge his father's death. He is too young and untried to tayke up his fathyr's offyce, and as of yet I have not appointed a marshall. Know ye, goodly friend King, that my knights and soliders are ever at your disposal, and that I wish only for the continued friendship between the Kingdom of Wales and Salisbury.
With sorrow and hope,
Ellen of Sarum,
Countess of Salisburye
My fryend to the northe, saviour of my son's county, it is wyth the utmoste sadness and horror that I relayte the news of the death of my son-in-law, Sir Cassius of Tisbury, Lord Marshall of my son's army. As you know, he wert wounded graytely by a cur knight of King Idris' at the Battle of Somerset Marsh and suffered for weeks upon his arrival here at Sarum. My owne daughter, the lovelye and goodlye Lady Jenna, his devoted wyf, tended to him personalye, but to no avayle. In the fyfth week of his internment, his strength left him and he rendered up the ghost to the bosom of Our Ladye in Heaven, Mother of Christ. He restes now from his long service to my son, Robert. Alas, my daughter is beset with gryf and hath byn taken unto seclusioun with the Queen at Amesburye.
The Lord Marshall's considerable holdyngs of Tisbury and Upavon have been granted to my grandson, Germine of the Fey, who wert knichted soon followynge his father's death. He is too young and untried to tayke up his fathyr's offyce, and as of yet I have not appointed a marshall. Know ye, goodly friend King, that my knights and soliders are ever at your disposal, and that I wish only for the continued friendship between the Kingdom of Wales and Salisbury.
With sorrow and hope,
Ellen of Sarum,
Countess of Salisburye
506: Rhoain the Just, Giant Killer, killed!
To Countess Ellen of Salisbury, be this lettre tayke.
It greeves me to relayte the news that your vassal, Lorde of Cholderton, Sir Rhoain the Just, has been killed whilst on scoutynge forray in Somerset. He wert a brave knyght, taken while still young and not yet marryied.
His bodye has been given due rytes and hath been dispatched to Cholderton with hayste.
In nomine Christi,
Father Gwuichelm
Abbot of the Holy House of Perpetual Mortal Sufferynge
It greeves me to relayte the news that your vassal, Lorde of Cholderton, Sir Rhoain the Just, has been killed whilst on scoutynge forray in Somerset. He wert a brave knyght, taken while still young and not yet marryied.
His bodye has been given due rytes and hath been dispatched to Cholderton with hayste.
In nomine Christi,
Father Gwuichelm
Abbot of the Holy House of Perpetual Mortal Sufferynge
Monday, June 02, 2008
The Infant Germine?
This past winter has been quite an amazing one. With the successful rescue of Germine, Jenna and I are forced to accept that our son's childhood has been stolen and will not be returned. Germine has the body and mind of a fifteen year old. The amazing part is his memory is split, as if in a waking dream he remembers both growing up in the fey forest, but also growing up in the court of salisbury, of being a page, and of hunting with me.
The strangest part, is when he tells of an experience we had in his childhood, it is as if I had that experience in a dream. It is familiar and feels right, yet I know it could not have happened...
Germine seems to accept this as normal, Jenna is far more distressed by it, she has lost her darling infant to be replaced by a young man. One who has asked about who he will be squired to. He is excited, and in testing his skills with the sword and on the horse, I know he is ready.
Strangely, an Irishman has come to our hall, and is staying the winter. He has earned my trust and an delights of both Germine and Mary Violette, Germine's "Older half-sister!" The Irish are truely an entertaining people, Sir Ronan O'Byrne, tells the most amazing stories and his love for family has impressed both my darling wife and myself.
Further, his knowledge of the fey, is quite amazing! He and Germine have shared many stories and through Ronan, I feel I know more of my son's experience is the Forest Sauvage...
Come Spring court in Sarum, I will ask the Countess Permission, to offer a Gift of the manor of Timbale to Sir Ronan in exchange for his vasselage and tutalage of Germine in the Knightly arts...
Sir Cassius
Winter 504 AD
The strangest part, is when he tells of an experience we had in his childhood, it is as if I had that experience in a dream. It is familiar and feels right, yet I know it could not have happened...
Germine seems to accept this as normal, Jenna is far more distressed by it, she has lost her darling infant to be replaced by a young man. One who has asked about who he will be squired to. He is excited, and in testing his skills with the sword and on the horse, I know he is ready.
Strangely, an Irishman has come to our hall, and is staying the winter. He has earned my trust and an delights of both Germine and Mary Violette, Germine's "Older half-sister!" The Irish are truely an entertaining people, Sir Ronan O'Byrne, tells the most amazing stories and his love for family has impressed both my darling wife and myself.
Further, his knowledge of the fey, is quite amazing! He and Germine have shared many stories and through Ronan, I feel I know more of my son's experience is the Forest Sauvage...
Come Spring court in Sarum, I will ask the Countess Permission, to offer a Gift of the manor of Timbale to Sir Ronan in exchange for his vasselage and tutalage of Germine in the Knightly arts...
Sir Cassius
Winter 504 AD
Monday, May 19, 2008
A letter to Countess Ellen
My dearest mother,
Only now do I understand your trials these past years, as you may of heard rumer, Germane, has been stollen! Replaced my a hiddeous faerie. I shake every time I am forced to breast feed this fiend, only my determination to hold Germane again gives me the strength to do this vile act. I tell you, I would not have the strength if it were not for the determined look I see on Cassius's face and the support of Lady Gywona.
As I send this letter from a village on the outskirts of the fairie forest Sauvage, I know Cassius will not be turned back and I cannot leave his side. Our first attempts at entering this dark place were thworted by some vassels of Logres, who would not allow us to enter this enchanted place. We will not be turned back, the Lady Gywona knows of another entrance which we will be taking this next morning.
I pray to see Salisbury again... Pray for us... Cassius, has exiled Father Brugan after his guidance to kill the changling, and has not given prayer since...
Your Daughter, Jenna
504 AD
Only now do I understand your trials these past years, as you may of heard rumer, Germane, has been stollen! Replaced my a hiddeous faerie. I shake every time I am forced to breast feed this fiend, only my determination to hold Germane again gives me the strength to do this vile act. I tell you, I would not have the strength if it were not for the determined look I see on Cassius's face and the support of Lady Gywona.
As I send this letter from a village on the outskirts of the fairie forest Sauvage, I know Cassius will not be turned back and I cannot leave his side. Our first attempts at entering this dark place were thworted by some vassels of Logres, who would not allow us to enter this enchanted place. We will not be turned back, the Lady Gywona knows of another entrance which we will be taking this next morning.
I pray to see Salisbury again... Pray for us... Cassius, has exiled Father Brugan after his guidance to kill the changling, and has not given prayer since...
Your Daughter, Jenna
504 AD
504: A Changeling in Salisbury!
The Gossiping Ladies at Court:"Dears, did you hear? I heard from one of Lady Jenna's maid-servants, that a fairy stole her baby and replaced it with a horrible creature!"
"Poor, poor creature. Jenna, I mean. Such a lovely thing."
"A changeling! Its our new Lord Marshall, that Sir Cassius, I tell you! Didn't a dragon or some such creature attack his manor at Tisbury a few years back? It seems the Good Neighbors have taken a liking to him."
"Heaven forbid! Oh, poor, poor Jenna. Such a kind thing."
"I say they should drown the thing and send it back to Hell! The baby, that is, not Sir Cassius."
[a twitter of sly laughter]
"I hear he's left Salisbury, with some other lords on a quest to find his real son, Germain. That they've gone to the Forest Sauvage!"
[hushed silence]
Monday, May 12, 2008
To Countess Ellen,
With the traitorous Lord Du Plain, properly beheaded and our favorite Bannoret cowled, we can finally rest knowing the County of Salisbury is once again united under the banner of our Lord Robert, but we cannot rest. The Kingdom of Logres is far from stable.
As your military advisor and Marshel of your armies, I humbly suggest that now is the time to look outside our County, for in my brief travels out there, I realize many powerful Lords are looking into our rich county, many with the aims of seizing your Son's birthright!
This winter, under the supervision of Siegmaster, Sir Rouwain of Minimusmaximus, we are constructing the Siege Equipment neccessary to begin a campaign outside the borders of Salisbury. Wessex has plagued us far too long, demanding tribute, raiding our lands, butchering the Noble Lady Indeg; we must seize our opportunity to strike back. With you blessing, I beseech you to allow the County of Salisbury to prepare to strike back at the vile King Cerdic, son of Vortegern!
You Servant,
Sir Cassius
Winter, 503 AD
PS Thank you for your generous gifts, our newborn Germane is healthy and happy. A strapping young lad, Jenna says he has Roderick's eyes. Jenna will visit soon so you may see your first grandchild!
With the traitorous Lord Du Plain, properly beheaded and our favorite Bannoret cowled, we can finally rest knowing the County of Salisbury is once again united under the banner of our Lord Robert, but we cannot rest. The Kingdom of Logres is far from stable.
As your military advisor and Marshel of your armies, I humbly suggest that now is the time to look outside our County, for in my brief travels out there, I realize many powerful Lords are looking into our rich county, many with the aims of seizing your Son's birthright!
This winter, under the supervision of Siegmaster, Sir Rouwain of Minimusmaximus, we are constructing the Siege Equipment neccessary to begin a campaign outside the borders of Salisbury. Wessex has plagued us far too long, demanding tribute, raiding our lands, butchering the Noble Lady Indeg; we must seize our opportunity to strike back. With you blessing, I beseech you to allow the County of Salisbury to prepare to strike back at the vile King Cerdic, son of Vortegern!
You Servant,
Sir Cassius
Winter, 503 AD
PS Thank you for your generous gifts, our newborn Germane is healthy and happy. A strapping young lad, Jenna says he has Roderick's eyes. Jenna will visit soon so you may see your first grandchild!
Monday, May 05, 2008
Thursday, May 01, 2008
501: A Dragon in Salisbury!
To His Grayce, the Bishop of St. Albans, with grayte hayste be this lettre tayke,
It is wyth grayte horror that I report a fell beest from Hell hath wraght grayte destructioun upon the manor whereupon I tende flock. Whilste I didst not see the mounstre, I have faithfully recorded heer the words of a goodlye villein of Sir Cassius, whose lande it wert that got attacked:
"I wert tayking a lame horse owt to pasture, cayreful-like, and suddens I sees a thynge aint no goode Chrystian awt to be seein'. It wert a dragonne of hell an it cayme all fyr and brymston out de skye-like and it fly and settle abowt my lord's new hall an set the thacht alicht an byrnt to the grownd. Then as it cayme it went, ta westwird, to Modron's Woode."
Manye othirs of goodlye charactir too saw the beest and I am graytlye worried for the futur of my lord's manor. The symple folke always say: Dragonns always stryke twyce in the saym playce. Is ther anye truth to such claymes? Shouldst we abandon the lande for wayste?
Yours in grayte fear,
Father Brugyn of Tisburye
It is wyth grayte horror that I report a fell beest from Hell hath wraght grayte destructioun upon the manor whereupon I tende flock. Whilste I didst not see the mounstre, I have faithfully recorded heer the words of a goodlye villein of Sir Cassius, whose lande it wert that got attacked:
"I wert tayking a lame horse owt to pasture, cayreful-like, and suddens I sees a thynge aint no goode Chrystian awt to be seein'. It wert a dragonne of hell an it cayme all fyr and brymston out de skye-like and it fly and settle abowt my lord's new hall an set the thacht alicht an byrnt to the grownd. Then as it cayme it went, ta westwird, to Modron's Woode."
Manye othirs of goodlye charactir too saw the beest and I am graytlye worried for the futur of my lord's manor. The symple folke always say: Dragonns always stryke twyce in the saym playce. Is ther anye truth to such claymes? Shouldst we abandon the lande for wayste?
Yours in grayte fear,
Father Brugyn of Tisburye
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
500: A year of great loss!
To his lordship, Ulfius, The War Duke of Silchester, be this lettre tayke.
May the lyght of Jesu shyne for you in these darke tymes, my olde friend. These paste sixe years synce the passyng of my dearlye departed husbande, your friend and my lord the Earl of Salysburye, Roderick, have been trynge and frauwt wyth peryl moste grayve. I guard the inherytance of my son with what modest womanlye skill that I have.
Synce the regencye began, I had been given grayt counsel by a host of worthye loyal knychts. Three had risen to the fore, and they are Sir Tremayne, Sir Cassius, and Sir Loric. Such skill they wrought at keepynge the devvil Saxons at bay that the other lordss of Salysburye have taken to calling them the Triumvirate, as if they were Consuls of Rome!
The Triumvirate were instrumental in routynge owt the traytorous Sir Hwyel, Sir Jaradan, and theyre fellows. It is with grayte sadness that I report that two of the Triumvirate hath fallen, whilst stopping a shipment of Saxon arms to the traitor DuPlain. His castle, which once gardded our southeyrn border, is now a vassal holding of King Cerdic of occuypied Hampshyr. Sir Tremayne and Sir Loric wert gloriouese knichtes, whose shouldyrs bore the weight of poor Salysburye for manye years. Trulye Our Lorde Jesu hath a playce in heavvin for such as like these two brayve men.
I am also loathe to report that, even with a shippment of siege equipage from our good friend to the North, his lordship, the King of Sugales, we were unable to break DuPlain from his fastness and had to lyft siege for the Winter. We shall try again come sprynge and with Jesu's grayce, we shall be victorioius in routing the last traitor of my son's Countye.
For this reason, I am gratlye sorrowed that I cannot send good fytinge men to your worthye cause. The defense of Huntyngdun and the East is of utmoste importaunce, and tho I cannot spayre the bone and synew of Salysburyemen, I can send this wagon trayne of goods and treasyre to help fund your good effort. In this I am your ally and servant, and know that my son, Robert, Ryghtful Count of Salysburye, supports you.
For the memorye of Sir Tremayne and Sir Loric, I beg your prayers, so that they may come to knowe the bountiful bosom of Our Lady in Hivvin.
Yours in undyinge faith,
Ellen of Sarum
Countess and Regent of Salysburye
May the lyght of Jesu shyne for you in these darke tymes, my olde friend. These paste sixe years synce the passyng of my dearlye departed husbande, your friend and my lord the Earl of Salysburye, Roderick, have been trynge and frauwt wyth peryl moste grayve. I guard the inherytance of my son with what modest womanlye skill that I have.
Synce the regencye began, I had been given grayt counsel by a host of worthye loyal knychts. Three had risen to the fore, and they are Sir Tremayne, Sir Cassius, and Sir Loric. Such skill they wrought at keepynge the devvil Saxons at bay that the other lordss of Salysburye have taken to calling them the Triumvirate, as if they were Consuls of Rome!
The Triumvirate were instrumental in routynge owt the traytorous Sir Hwyel, Sir Jaradan, and theyre fellows. It is with grayte sadness that I report that two of the Triumvirate hath fallen, whilst stopping a shipment of Saxon arms to the traitor DuPlain. His castle, which once gardded our southeyrn border, is now a vassal holding of King Cerdic of occuypied Hampshyr. Sir Tremayne and Sir Loric wert gloriouese knichtes, whose shouldyrs bore the weight of poor Salysburye for manye years. Trulye Our Lorde Jesu hath a playce in heavvin for such as like these two brayve men.
I am also loathe to report that, even with a shippment of siege equipage from our good friend to the North, his lordship, the King of Sugales, we were unable to break DuPlain from his fastness and had to lyft siege for the Winter. We shall try again come sprynge and with Jesu's grayce, we shall be victorioius in routing the last traitor of my son's Countye.
For this reason, I am gratlye sorrowed that I cannot send good fytinge men to your worthye cause. The defense of Huntyngdun and the East is of utmoste importaunce, and tho I cannot spayre the bone and synew of Salysburyemen, I can send this wagon trayne of goods and treasyre to help fund your good effort. In this I am your ally and servant, and know that my son, Robert, Ryghtful Count of Salysburye, supports you.
For the memorye of Sir Tremayne and Sir Loric, I beg your prayers, so that they may come to knowe the bountiful bosom of Our Lady in Hivvin.
Yours in undyinge faith,
Ellen of Sarum
Countess and Regent of Salysburye
Monday, April 28, 2008
Quest for meaning: Dragon
Father Brugan gave me great insight into the recent Dragon raid. Your Chapel still stands...
Sir Cassius
501 AD
Sir Cassius
501 AD
Monday, April 07, 2008
The Skirmish of Steeple-Langford
Let me tell of the tale of the Skirmish of Steeple-Langford
Where the Triumvirate of Salisbury took a stand...
A stand for order in a time of Anarchy,
A stand to uphold justice,
A stand to right a grave wrong,
A stand to re-establish order in a falling county!
Led by the glorious Sir Tremaine,
A man of great wit and mind,
A man who would bring order to chaos,
A man with a stone keep!
parley was their action,
parley was what they asked of Sir Lycus,
parley was the council of Countess Ellen,
parley is what failed to convince Sir Lycus,
where parley failed, might could only turn the tide,
where the indecision of a timid countess would fail,
the action of three brave knights would succeed,
The triumvirate three charged with a mighty roar,
and a mighty crash was heard across the county,
the skirmish of Steeple-Langford ensued,
Sir Tremaine and Sir Lorek the Prudent felled their foe quickly,
quickly their foes fell, so they could find the vile Sir Lycus,
and whereas Sir Tremaine engaged both Lycus and his bodyguard,
Sir Lorek the Prudent, prudently dispatched them both from behind,
Ask, you of the third of the triumvirate?
the third, Sir Cassius the Energetic,
Impassioned by his love of his lordess,
Sir Cassius was locked in an epic contest,
an epic contest between he and Sir Gade,
blow after blow,
strike after strike,
neither could find an opening...
Onwards the triumvirate felled knight after knight,
Cassius still locked into an immortal struggle,
until he landed a great blow,
a blow severing Sir Gades torso,
a blow which would free him to engage another,
another Knight he had fought before,
A reckoning between he and the Famous Sir Amos,
a reckoning which would end quickly,
and with a simple call to his simple squire,
Sir Cassius had Jevon the Simple, bind Sir Amos's wounds
and then bind his hands...
Onward the brave triumvirate fought,
onward to glory,
onward to the Banneret Sir Hywel they fought,
Sir Cassius reached him first,
a felled him despite his bodyguards blows,
Jevon, bind his arms he cried!
Leaving Cassius to finish off the bodyguard,
covered in gore,
covered in blood,
covered in glory,
the triumvirate were victorious,
what repercussions would befall our three?
We will have to see!
499 AD
Where the Triumvirate of Salisbury took a stand...
A stand for order in a time of Anarchy,
A stand to uphold justice,
A stand to right a grave wrong,
A stand to re-establish order in a falling county!
Led by the glorious Sir Tremaine,
A man of great wit and mind,
A man who would bring order to chaos,
A man with a stone keep!
parley was their action,
parley was what they asked of Sir Lycus,
parley was the council of Countess Ellen,
parley is what failed to convince Sir Lycus,
where parley failed, might could only turn the tide,
where the indecision of a timid countess would fail,
the action of three brave knights would succeed,
The triumvirate three charged with a mighty roar,
and a mighty crash was heard across the county,
the skirmish of Steeple-Langford ensued,
Sir Tremaine and Sir Lorek the Prudent felled their foe quickly,
quickly their foes fell, so they could find the vile Sir Lycus,
and whereas Sir Tremaine engaged both Lycus and his bodyguard,
Sir Lorek the Prudent, prudently dispatched them both from behind,
Ask, you of the third of the triumvirate?
the third, Sir Cassius the Energetic,
Impassioned by his love of his lordess,
Sir Cassius was locked in an epic contest,
an epic contest between he and Sir Gade,
blow after blow,
strike after strike,
neither could find an opening...
Onwards the triumvirate felled knight after knight,
Cassius still locked into an immortal struggle,
until he landed a great blow,
a blow severing Sir Gades torso,
a blow which would free him to engage another,
another Knight he had fought before,
A reckoning between he and the Famous Sir Amos,
a reckoning which would end quickly,
and with a simple call to his simple squire,
Sir Cassius had Jevon the Simple, bind Sir Amos's wounds
and then bind his hands...
Onward the brave triumvirate fought,
onward to glory,
onward to the Banneret Sir Hywel they fought,
Sir Cassius reached him first,
a felled him despite his bodyguards blows,
Jevon, bind his arms he cried!
Leaving Cassius to finish off the bodyguard,
covered in gore,
covered in blood,
covered in glory,
the triumvirate were victorious,
what repercussions would befall our three?
We will have to see!
499 AD
Monday, March 31, 2008
GM's Note: Fun in the Anarchy Period
King Uther is dead. God save...whom? Well that's the problem isn't it?I'm really enjoying how the dynamics of the game have suddenly shifted. With the death of the king all the binds that tied the Kingdom together are unravelling and neighbor is arming against neighbor.
My players requested that I make a map of Salisbury ("like a RISK board") so that they could see who their friends and allies in the county are. I made the above map out of a scanned version of the real one on pg. 62 of King Arthur Pendragon, 5th edition. I quickly made a bunch of random lines to indicate the borders of the various manors. There's no rhyme or reason to the order or size; I really didn't have the time to think about it.
Suddenly story ideas sprung into my head. It also forced me to read the whole section on Salisbury really carefully. What a great resource it turned out to be; along with the generic stats of Young, Average, (etc.) knights in the back of the book, I could pretty much come up with and execute a specific scenario in minutes.
496: Lady Ellen's Progress of Salisbury
Gobrwy the Bard sings:Ah Merlin, false accused,
be ye still on Brittain's strand?
Though Druid's Ban be abused,
I'll sing two Knights of Salisburyland.
One is Sir Cassius, Tisbury's head,
the other, Sir Loric of Burcombe 'stead.
Both young and brave and knightly new,
each to Ellen their swords sworn true.
The knights did bring their family host,
uncles and brothers, but cousins most,
and flanked the Countess 'round Salisburyland
from manor to tower in carriage grand.
While in the north, near Mildenhall's Towne,
the hosts of Cassius and Loric rode down
a churlish band of Silchester knights
who thought there to covet the Countess' rights.
Oh houses of Tisbury and Burcombe, be praised!
For honor and glory in you have raised
the hearts and tongues of Salisburymen:
"On Cassius! On Loric! Two knights worth ten!"
Ah Merlin, false accused,
be ye still on Britain's strand?
Shouldst this song find thee: Be amused!
For true knights still stalk this Salisburyland.
Friday, March 28, 2008
495 Part 2: The Death of a King
To the Abbot of St Anselmo di Aventino, in the Holy See of Rome, be this lettre take.
God had surely creayted Brittania to test the faith of men. For in oure finest hour He hath taykyn the one hope for His people. Havinge won to gloriouse measyre, with manye Session heathens and Nephilim sent to their respictivve pits in hell, our Grayte Kyng Utherpendragon hath fallen, succuombed to the unmanly art of poisin, and with him taken manye high lords of this land, who wert with him in hall to celebrayte theyr grayte victorye against Satan.
Onlye a handsfull of true cnichts remayne to stayve off the Sessions, and they are olde and wizened beyond use or young and brayzen and foolishe. They will certainlye fall, one by one, to the nexte demon to spawn from the Session shore. Or fall upon themsilves and brayke Gods commandemente and covet their neighbors wives and lands. Eithyr course leads to the destruction of Brittania.
To mayke mattres worse, to the west, wherein lie our best, last hope, we find the Abbot of our Brother House in Carliorn aghast with storyes of Wild Heathyns from Ireland, burnying their way up and down the coasts of Gales. No aid nor quartre can come from the West. Perhaps our onlye hope is the upstarte Idris from Brittainnia the Lesser. But will any Christian knights fallow his banner?
Dear brother Abbot we cannot place our hope in the princes of this realm for they are weak in faith and in arms. Manye houses of God and good works will be lost, I feayre, to the anslaught of Sessions, and for that reason I place in your trust these chests of silver, which by right belong to the Holy Mother Church in Rome, and humbly request that they perhaps secure a small sinecure in your Abbey or supporting lands thereof for me and mine.
God, I fear, hath abbandoned these whyte clift shores.
Your brothyr in Jesus Christ,
The Abbot of St. Albans
God had surely creayted Brittania to test the faith of men. For in oure finest hour He hath taykyn the one hope for His people. Havinge won to gloriouse measyre, with manye Session heathens and Nephilim sent to their respictivve pits in hell, our Grayte Kyng Utherpendragon hath fallen, succuombed to the unmanly art of poisin, and with him taken manye high lords of this land, who wert with him in hall to celebrayte theyr grayte victorye against Satan.
Onlye a handsfull of true cnichts remayne to stayve off the Sessions, and they are olde and wizened beyond use or young and brayzen and foolishe. They will certainlye fall, one by one, to the nexte demon to spawn from the Session shore. Or fall upon themsilves and brayke Gods commandemente and covet their neighbors wives and lands. Eithyr course leads to the destruction of Brittania.
To mayke mattres worse, to the west, wherein lie our best, last hope, we find the Abbot of our Brother House in Carliorn aghast with storyes of Wild Heathyns from Ireland, burnying their way up and down the coasts of Gales. No aid nor quartre can come from the West. Perhaps our onlye hope is the upstarte Idris from Brittainnia the Lesser. But will any Christian knights fallow his banner?
Dear brother Abbot we cannot place our hope in the princes of this realm for they are weak in faith and in arms. Manye houses of God and good works will be lost, I feayre, to the anslaught of Sessions, and for that reason I place in your trust these chests of silver, which by right belong to the Holy Mother Church in Rome, and humbly request that they perhaps secure a small sinecure in your Abbey or supporting lands thereof for me and mine.
God, I fear, hath abbandoned these whyte clift shores.
Your brothyr in Jesus Christ,
The Abbot of St. Albans
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
A morning Joust
Steam rolled across the grassy field as the morning sun hit the dew soaked parade ground of Tilshead Castle. Standing accused of spying on his host, Sir Cassius of Tisbury stood upon his midnight black charger, waiting to be proven just. Teo, his stead, stamped nervously, anxious to be set loose. Sir Cassius was motionless, in full chainmail, helmet drawn.
A hundred paces away, the famous, Sir Amos, awaited on his grey horse. A noted knight vassel of Sir Hyuel, famed for his prowess on the field of battle. Sir Amos was Lord Hyuel's champion.
In the middle, stood confidently, Sir Hyuel, his faith in Sir Amos well placed after countless battles. Surrounded by his retainers the Lord of Tilshead thought he had the Countess right where he wanted, one of her honor guard standing trial of violating the rite of Hospitality.
Not so confident, the Countess Elaine, with her retinue of ladys stood to Sir Hyuel's right.
Sir Cassius saluted his Countess and with a roar took off towards Sir Amos. Amos and his charger jumped into action with a similar cry. A clash struck as their lances struck, Sir Amos the victor, but only in name. After the first pass Sir Cassius was scraped, but far from hurt.
The second pass came and went quickly, neither knight succeeding in landing a solid blow.
Upon the third and final pass, Sir Cassius looked up to his Lady and knew he must succeed. For him to fail would darken his honor, but far graver would taint the Countess's as well. And in this dark time, a mere hint of such could easily topple the Countess's reign.
Both horses sprung into action and with a cloud of dust and a great clash of steele, the famous, Sir Amos lay unconscious on the parade ground. Sir Cassius had struck a true blow, vindicating him in front all, his Lord giving him strength to be proved true.
496 AD
A hundred paces away, the famous, Sir Amos, awaited on his grey horse. A noted knight vassel of Sir Hyuel, famed for his prowess on the field of battle. Sir Amos was Lord Hyuel's champion.
In the middle, stood confidently, Sir Hyuel, his faith in Sir Amos well placed after countless battles. Surrounded by his retainers the Lord of Tilshead thought he had the Countess right where he wanted, one of her honor guard standing trial of violating the rite of Hospitality.
Not so confident, the Countess Elaine, with her retinue of ladys stood to Sir Hyuel's right.
Sir Cassius saluted his Countess and with a roar took off towards Sir Amos. Amos and his charger jumped into action with a similar cry. A clash struck as their lances struck, Sir Amos the victor, but only in name. After the first pass Sir Cassius was scraped, but far from hurt.
The second pass came and went quickly, neither knight succeeding in landing a solid blow.
Upon the third and final pass, Sir Cassius looked up to his Lady and knew he must succeed. For him to fail would darken his honor, but far graver would taint the Countess's as well. And in this dark time, a mere hint of such could easily topple the Countess's reign.
Both horses sprung into action and with a cloud of dust and a great clash of steele, the famous, Sir Amos lay unconscious on the parade ground. Sir Cassius had struck a true blow, vindicating him in front all, his Lord giving him strength to be proved true.
496 AD
Monday, March 10, 2008
495 Part 1: Battle of St. Albans
The Battle of St. Albans rages on! Alas, poor Sir Samuel is slain shortly after the lance charge...
A grieving Sir Tremayne fails at composing a spontaneous battlefield poem:
There was a knight named Sir Samuel:
He died! He died!
Earl Roderick said he was sleeping:
He lied! He lied!
Why oh why is my friend dead?
Couldn't that Saxon have hit me instead?
Will the remaining knights survive the last three rounds?
A grieving Sir Tremayne fails at composing a spontaneous battlefield poem:
There was a knight named Sir Samuel:
He died! He died!
Earl Roderick said he was sleeping:
He lied! He lied!
Why oh why is my friend dead?
Couldn't that Saxon have hit me instead?
Will the remaining knights survive the last three rounds?
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Devil's Fingerprints
494
I am not sure where to begin, I feel as if a great reckoning is building...
The devil's fingerprints are one by one tracing a path across our great land, cursing it one place at a time. One soul damned at a time. I fear my soul has been lost to the fiery pit below.
Upon hearing that the King's son was kidnapped by Merlin, it is as if I awoke from a dream. I awoke to realize I had just slain two brother Cymric knights, I awoke to find my own gauntlet protecting an act of atrocity. But more so I awoke to realize it was my own sense of honor which led me to my certain doom.
My foolish honor, which cost our land our only hope...
With Uthur's two sons gone, we are truely doomed to burn...
My pride has cost our land its heir; and now with Uthur ill and the Saxon horde comming, is there no one to stand in the way?
Sir Samuel of Dinton
494
I am not sure where to begin, I feel as if a great reckoning is building...
The devil's fingerprints are one by one tracing a path across our great land, cursing it one place at a time. One soul damned at a time. I fear my soul has been lost to the fiery pit below.
Upon hearing that the King's son was kidnapped by Merlin, it is as if I awoke from a dream. I awoke to realize I had just slain two brother Cymric knights, I awoke to find my own gauntlet protecting an act of atrocity. But more so I awoke to realize it was my own sense of honor which led me to my certain doom.
My foolish honor, which cost our land our only hope...
With Uthur's two sons gone, we are truely doomed to burn...
My pride has cost our land its heir; and now with Uthur ill and the Saxon horde comming, is there no one to stand in the way?
Sir Samuel of Dinton
494
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
I see the cursed land
492
Throughout my life, I have seen the death of my father and brother, our great land invaded by savages, the bloodiest siege at Soisson. But throughout all this, I have never questioned the fact that Justice will make everything right. That is until this past spring.
I have never trusted Merlin the Magician, but in seeing the trust my liege, King Uther had put into him, I could not refuse a favor when asked. I gave my word, it seemed a simple request, to delay a group who were following him. So when King Uther's men themselves arrived, I still could not see the evil in merely delaying them. I did not recognize Sir Brasious, and when they refused to simply identify themselves I knew Merlin had some Just plan; these knights were mistaken. Their very belligerence told of their unjust actions. I let their unchivalrous actions tell me of their evil, and stood firm in my resolve to delay them, even when my companion, Sir William backed off.
Backed into a corner, I thought to flee away, leading the pursuers away from Merlin, but once caught I had to defend myself. I beheaded two and direly wounded another, before Sir Basious identified himself and told of Merlin's dire plan to kidnap King Uther's newborn son. The rightful heir to Logres.
My honor gave me the strength to fell these young knights and delay them long enough for Merlin to escape, but it had led me wrong. My word bound my actions to a course of evil. My sense of Justice has left my side...
I have replayed these events over and over again, only to be left feeling hollow.
Without my honor, I could of backed off at Sir Brasious's command and thus allowed him to save the boy heir.
Merlin surely had tricked, and possibly enchanted me; but it was my Honor which struck the foulest blow.
CHIVALRY BE DAMNED!!! I will no longer follow such foolishness! Reason and the world is what our land needs now! My eyes can see clearly now, for our land to be free once again it is going to take men of strength and action, not character. I have grown up out of my boyhood fantasies, in the year 492 I am a man. I can see now the evil that dwells in this cursed land and I will fight to purge it; regardless of what it takes!
Sir Samuel of Dinton
492
Throughout my life, I have seen the death of my father and brother, our great land invaded by savages, the bloodiest siege at Soisson. But throughout all this, I have never questioned the fact that Justice will make everything right. That is until this past spring.
I have never trusted Merlin the Magician, but in seeing the trust my liege, King Uther had put into him, I could not refuse a favor when asked. I gave my word, it seemed a simple request, to delay a group who were following him. So when King Uther's men themselves arrived, I still could not see the evil in merely delaying them. I did not recognize Sir Brasious, and when they refused to simply identify themselves I knew Merlin had some Just plan; these knights were mistaken. Their very belligerence told of their unjust actions. I let their unchivalrous actions tell me of their evil, and stood firm in my resolve to delay them, even when my companion, Sir William backed off.
Backed into a corner, I thought to flee away, leading the pursuers away from Merlin, but once caught I had to defend myself. I beheaded two and direly wounded another, before Sir Basious identified himself and told of Merlin's dire plan to kidnap King Uther's newborn son. The rightful heir to Logres.
My honor gave me the strength to fell these young knights and delay them long enough for Merlin to escape, but it had led me wrong. My word bound my actions to a course of evil. My sense of Justice has left my side...
I have replayed these events over and over again, only to be left feeling hollow.
Without my honor, I could of backed off at Sir Brasious's command and thus allowed him to save the boy heir.
Merlin surely had tricked, and possibly enchanted me; but it was my Honor which struck the foulest blow.
CHIVALRY BE DAMNED!!! I will no longer follow such foolishness! Reason and the world is what our land needs now! My eyes can see clearly now, for our land to be free once again it is going to take men of strength and action, not character. I have grown up out of my boyhood fantasies, in the year 492 I am a man. I can see now the evil that dwells in this cursed land and I will fight to purge it; regardless of what it takes!
Sir Samuel of Dinton
492
Monday, January 14, 2008
490
To my dearest wife Abigail,
I write to let you know that I am safe after a great battle. Riding in the army for the Great king Uther we vanquished the large Saxon army of King Octa. King Octa actually had a giant on his side! One day I will take down a giant it is my fate. The battle was a long struggle but we did prevail.
We charged into battle and the Saxons being on foot felt our mighty charge, I have to give them credit for bravery they stood their ground as 2000 mounted knights bared down upon them. In the heat of battle at first my unit fought some poor weak Saxon slaves armed with primate weapons. I felt sorry for these poor wretched creatures, they fell easily at the hands of our mighty swords. Then we encountered Javelin throwers, the javelin throwers took down many knights in our unit there were only 2 remaining knights myself and my unit commander. The resistance stiffened and we fought some real Saxons with large axes. Our unit was completely surrounded. One of them got lucky and knocked me from my horse. Things looked grave until King Ulfius felled the Giant on the Saxon. This caused the Saxon army to collapse and run. We chased after them as they were running and came across the standard bearer for the entire Saxon army. It was a wolf’s head mounted on a pull. My unit commander and I closed on the 2 experienced Saxons. With a mighty strike they felled my unit commander and it was only me standing against 2 Saxon warriors. The cowards even teamed up on me, but little did they know that with my strength and courage they did not stand a chance. First one went down, the other gave me a blow in the side and with the last strength in my body I struck the other with a mighty blow to the head, I was surprised he could stood after such a blow, but it was such a horrific blow the Saxon could not continue and I took him prisoner and captured the Saxon standard.
King Uther was so pleased with the capture of the Standard he rewarded me very nicely. King Uther is holding court in London where I must join him I will return to you; I will buy you a nice gift and will back with you shortly.
Yours Truly,
William de Clovile III
September 490
I write to let you know that I am safe after a great battle. Riding in the army for the Great king Uther we vanquished the large Saxon army of King Octa. King Octa actually had a giant on his side! One day I will take down a giant it is my fate. The battle was a long struggle but we did prevail.
We charged into battle and the Saxons being on foot felt our mighty charge, I have to give them credit for bravery they stood their ground as 2000 mounted knights bared down upon them. In the heat of battle at first my unit fought some poor weak Saxon slaves armed with primate weapons. I felt sorry for these poor wretched creatures, they fell easily at the hands of our mighty swords. Then we encountered Javelin throwers, the javelin throwers took down many knights in our unit there were only 2 remaining knights myself and my unit commander. The resistance stiffened and we fought some real Saxons with large axes. Our unit was completely surrounded. One of them got lucky and knocked me from my horse. Things looked grave until King Ulfius felled the Giant on the Saxon. This caused the Saxon army to collapse and run. We chased after them as they were running and came across the standard bearer for the entire Saxon army. It was a wolf’s head mounted on a pull. My unit commander and I closed on the 2 experienced Saxons. With a mighty strike they felled my unit commander and it was only me standing against 2 Saxon warriors. The cowards even teamed up on me, but little did they know that with my strength and courage they did not stand a chance. First one went down, the other gave me a blow in the side and with the last strength in my body I struck the other with a mighty blow to the head, I was surprised he could stood after such a blow, but it was such a horrific blow the Saxon could not continue and I took him prisoner and captured the Saxon standard.
King Uther was so pleased with the capture of the Standard he rewarded me very nicely. King Uther is holding court in London where I must join him I will return to you; I will buy you a nice gift and will back with you shortly.
Yours Truly,
William de Clovile III
September 490
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
A letter to Sir Aradin
Sir Aradin,
Much has happened since last we spoke. I am saddened to hear that you have taken ill this past winter and such were not able to attend court. I am afraid without your guiding hand, I made quite a saxon out of myself, failing at nary every activity offered. You would of turned away to see my pitiful attempts to dance and make revelry. But I pledge next at next court to show to all that you have taught your old squire well!
This spring I rode with Earl Roderick and King Uther Pendragon to face the rebellious Duke Gorlois of Cornwall. You would of been proud to see me take two of three lances in joust the traitorous knight, Sir Marak. I kept my head back and eyes open, just as you taught me. We had been marching together, when his entire retinue stopped and refused to enter the Duchy Cornwall; enraged and this disloyalty to King Uther, I called them cowardous rats, less loyal than the mangiest, mistreated dog. Sir Marak accepted my challenge and we began our abated joust. After taking the first two passes, he struck me true with the luckiest of blows. I now realize losing this final lance was quite fortunate, for it allowed Sir Marak to bow out defeated, but with a saving grace. For I am told he is quite ill tempered, and our contest could of easily led to full battle and I would of never forgiven myself should I have slain him when our mission to to reign in rebellious knight rather than kill them. A dead Cymric serves King Uther nothing in his divine mission to rid our land of saxons.
Victorious as I was, I was disheartened that my strength could do nothing to stop the withdrawal of those traitorous knights, leaving us half in number to face Duke Gorlois. I was riding head bowed, when we came upon the Duke's men...
Preparing for battle, King Uther draw his sword, reveling the Sword of Power!!! I could not believe my eyes, nor could our enemy; for they immediately submitted, and Duke Gorlois bowed before King Uther and the Sword. This proves Earl Roderick is correct in supporting King Uther as high king, for with the Sword in his hands, Uther is surely destined by God's mandate to rid our shores of this vile invasion once and for all!
Rejoicing, we feasted together and made merry. Oddly, upon waking we found the Duke and his men had snuck away in the middle of the night. But King Uther was nether surprised nor upset, instead we immediately turned away and rode north to face a saxon raiding party.
If you have any news or insights upon this odd occurrence, please share them with me next we speak, but knowing the Sword of Power is found and in the true kings hands, I am confident this foreign curse will soon be lifted from our land.
Your faithful student,
Sir Samuel
Much has happened since last we spoke. I am saddened to hear that you have taken ill this past winter and such were not able to attend court. I am afraid without your guiding hand, I made quite a saxon out of myself, failing at nary every activity offered. You would of turned away to see my pitiful attempts to dance and make revelry. But I pledge next at next court to show to all that you have taught your old squire well!
This spring I rode with Earl Roderick and King Uther Pendragon to face the rebellious Duke Gorlois of Cornwall. You would of been proud to see me take two of three lances in joust the traitorous knight, Sir Marak. I kept my head back and eyes open, just as you taught me. We had been marching together, when his entire retinue stopped and refused to enter the Duchy Cornwall; enraged and this disloyalty to King Uther, I called them cowardous rats, less loyal than the mangiest, mistreated dog. Sir Marak accepted my challenge and we began our abated joust. After taking the first two passes, he struck me true with the luckiest of blows. I now realize losing this final lance was quite fortunate, for it allowed Sir Marak to bow out defeated, but with a saving grace. For I am told he is quite ill tempered, and our contest could of easily led to full battle and I would of never forgiven myself should I have slain him when our mission to to reign in rebellious knight rather than kill them. A dead Cymric serves King Uther nothing in his divine mission to rid our land of saxons.
Victorious as I was, I was disheartened that my strength could do nothing to stop the withdrawal of those traitorous knights, leaving us half in number to face Duke Gorlois. I was riding head bowed, when we came upon the Duke's men...
Preparing for battle, King Uther draw his sword, reveling the Sword of Power!!! I could not believe my eyes, nor could our enemy; for they immediately submitted, and Duke Gorlois bowed before King Uther and the Sword. This proves Earl Roderick is correct in supporting King Uther as high king, for with the Sword in his hands, Uther is surely destined by God's mandate to rid our shores of this vile invasion once and for all!
Rejoicing, we feasted together and made merry. Oddly, upon waking we found the Duke and his men had snuck away in the middle of the night. But King Uther was nether surprised nor upset, instead we immediately turned away and rode north to face a saxon raiding party.
If you have any news or insights upon this odd occurrence, please share them with me next we speak, but knowing the Sword of Power is found and in the true kings hands, I am confident this foreign curse will soon be lifted from our land.
Your faithful student,
Sir Samuel
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