Will you fight for God, riches, glory, or maybe even redemption? Will you conduct yourself with honor? Or will you scheme your way to power? Will you annihilate the infidel or will you come to an uneasy peace? You decide as the cause of God takes you to the East. Crossposted on Spacebattles
Deos Volentes (Low Fantasy Crusading Quest)
- Thread starter DarthRev
- Start date
- Original Mature Fantasy Historic
Deos Volentes
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Character Creation Part 1
"Thwack!!!"
You cheer along with the crowd as the knight in red unhorses his opponent. You had never in your life seen so many people in one place. Throngs of peasantry cheer from the other end of the tourney field, their number crammed together along the fence even as yourself and others of the nobility gaze from the somewhat more spacious accommodations in the stands. But the tourney is only one event among many in the fields outside of the city of Varza, the Holy Seat of the Exalted Pontiff himself. You know that outside the tourney, pilgrims kneel before preaching priests and merchants haggle with the rich in the huge tent cities that sprang up outside the city's walls. Truly, you muse as someone passes you a full wineskin, you wonder whether you fell in battle and had gone to Paradise.
"Oi, don't hog it all, friend!" the bushy-beard man next to you pleads. He is in full armor sans helm, his hair slicked with sweat. You make a show of pulling it away from him before handing it over.
"You owe me for the gold I lost on you, Beorn!" You tell him even as the Mercian laughs.
"Compete in the next round, and I may repay you."
[ ] "Maybe next time. This is supposed to be a pilgrimage, not a celebration." (? Trait Gained)
[ ] "I would have if the damn monks hadn't given me so much ashwen to drink. Bah, you get knocked on your face once, and they drug you till Parousia!" (? Trait Gained)
[ ] "I told you. I don't play these silly games. When I draw my sword, I cut men down. Mummer Knights treat this all like a farce." (? Trait Gained)
Your new friend nods at your words, accepting your reasoning even as you can tell that he does not quite accept it. That is fine by you. You only met the stout knight a couple nights before, when you arrived at the Holy Seat. At that time, you had gaped at the sheer number of people flocking to the city, but you understood why so many people, highborn and lowborn alike, had made the journey.
Absolution
You are a sworn knight. Battle is your vocation, your purpose in life. The Brother's will is for you to defend the innocent and punish the sinner, and the Sister's will is for you to show mercy to enemies once you humble them, but that is not the world you live in. Powerful kings and dukes war for the right to the throne or to expand their territories. Lords feud with one another over centuries-old grievances. And knights, knights carry out their lords' will for good or ill, lest they be forced to turn to banditry.
All sin offends God as manifested in the Brother or the Sister. Your own sin troubles your heart. It presses down on your heart, reminding you of the threat of the just punishment you had merited from your actions where you...
[ ] Slaughtered a village of innocents at your lord's command. (Sin Gained)
[ ] Assented to the Matrimonial Heresy for the purpose of lying with your own blood sister. (Sin Gained)
[ ] Slew your own cousin in battle. (Sin Gained)
[ ] Slew a kneeling enemy out of anger. (Sin Gained)
[ ] Betrayed your liege (Sin Gained)
[ ]-Write In
Yes. Your sin pursues you, and you thank God for the miracle of the Exalted Pontiff now offering total absolution for a knightly deed done in service to the Faith. The knightly deed you were anxious to accomplish, whatever it may be.
"I hear tonight that the Pontiff will announce what it is we are to do," your friend whispers as the two of you made your way out of the stands and into the tent city, "There are so many people here, he'll hold the service in the fields. By the two huge statues of the Twins."
"I wish I knew already," you murmur, "The drives my imagination into a frenzy. I heard that the kings and great lords already know what it is. That's why the King of Mercia and the King of Valois brought their sworn knights and retinues here."
"This is big," you say, "I feel it in my soul. We must attend."
You know that the Pontiff's announcement will filter through the city, both the real and temporary one, within hours, but you are inpatient. You have been living under you sin for so long. You need to know the means by which it will be cleansed. You ignore the peddlers and the entertainers on your way to the statue of the Twins in the distance, their angelic eyes gazing upon the wide road that connected the city to its territories and the Kingdom of Valois beyond.
It is a long wait for the service to start, but neither you nor the crowd of knights and lords taking their places before the makeshift altar mind. Among them stand a few shieldmaidens of the newly converted Northmen and lady knights of Valois, but no one says anything. Beorn takes his place among his people as you....
[ ] Join him. You are Mercian as well. Your people rule a island to the north. You are famed for your heavy-armored housecarls, but there are plenty of mounted knights as well. Ethnic divisions plague your kingdom, making it somewhat withdrawn from outside affairs. Names such as Æðelric, Ceolmund, and Hrothgar are common there, but your given name is...(You are a Mercian)
-[ ] Write-In
[ ] Join the Northmen. Your people had migrated from the frigged north generations ago. It had taken centuries of raiding, interacting, and warring with the Faithful to convert you to the Faith of the Twins. Newly feudalized, your people maintain a warrior spirit. Names such as Agner, Knut, Esben, and Olaf are common among them, but your given name is... (You are a Northman)
- [ ] Write-In
[ ] Join the Valoisans. The Kingdom of Valois was formed by the newly converted barbarians who had decimated the westernmost extent of the old Empire of Akhaioi, the real one. Not the pale remnant in the east. Valois was the center of civilized world and more High Pontiffs came from that country than from anywhere else. Names such as Calvin, Henri, and Jordane are common in your country, but your given name is... (You are a Valoisan)
- [ ] Write-In
[ ] Join the Gothans. A Kingdom that existed more in theory than in practice, the feuding petty kingdoms elected a High King to rule over them in name but maintained a large amount of autonomy. Still, they united whenever Valois sought to trouble them. Common names there are Friedrich, Heinlich, and Kraft, but your given name is... (You are a Gothan)
- [ ] Write-In
[ ] Join the Leonese. The Kingdom of Leon is the southernmost kingdom sworn to the faith. Your people is a mixed of colors that mark many as descended from the tribes to the south as well as the paler skinned Faithful kingdoms. You are forever at war with the Excan cannibals to the east and south of you. Common names there are Diago, Fortún, and Rodrigo, but your given name is... (You are Leonese)
- [ ] Write-In
[ ] Join the Florencians. The Principality of Florencia and the Free Cities of Florencia are great traders but are locked in conflicted. Common names among your people are Bartolommeo, Caro, and Honesto, but your given name is... (You are Florencian)
- [ ] Write-In
You kneel in silence as the Pontiff and his fellow priests walk among the crowd, holding the Book of the Two for all to see. You join in the chants you had long since memorized. However, try as you might, you cannot focus on the worship of the Two. You know that this is it. This is when the Exalted Pontiff will reveal why he had called knights from all over Occasum. When the service is over, the Pontiff speaks.
"Urged by necessity, I, Solomos, by the permission of the Two chief pontiff over the whole world, have come into these parts as an ambassador with a divine admonition to you, the servants of God. I hoped to find you as faithful and as zealous in the service of the Two as I had supposed you to be. But if there is in you any deformity or crookedness contrary to God's law, with divine help I will do my best to remove it.
"You are called shepherds; see that you do not act as hirelings. But be true shepherds, with your crooks always in your hands. Do not go to sleep, but guard on all sides the flock committed to you. For if through your carelessness or negligence a wolf carries away one of your sheep, you will surely lose the reward laid up for you with God. And after you have been bitterly scourged with remorse for your faults-, you will be fiercely overwhelmed in the netherworld, the abode of death. But if you fall short in your duty, how, it may be asked, can it be salted? O how great the need of salting! It is indeed necessary for you to correct with the salt of wisdom this foolish people which is so devoted to the pleasures of this -world, lest the Two, when They may wish to speak to them, find them putrefied by their sins unsalted and stinking. For if God, shall find worms, that is, sins, In them, because you have been negligent in your duty, the Two will command them as worthless to be thrown into the abyss of unclean things. And because you cannot restore to God Their great loss, They will surely condemn you and drive you from Their loving presence. But the man who applies this salt should be prudent, provident, modest, learned, peaceable, watchful, pious, just, equitable, and pure.
"You stand before me, sinful and sorrowful. Yet, I come to you with great need and great hope for your souls. A barbaric race, those who do not know the Two, have ravaged the Empire of Akhaioi. Consecrated virgins have been raped and slain, great cities sacked, multitudes of the faithful banished from their homeland to enslaved in the country of the infidel. This people, the Benzi Horde, hold no respect for God or Their children. For long before their assault upon the Empire of the Akhaioi, they seized Nishan, yes, the very city where the Redeemer revealed the Truth of the Two to the world. The very place He laid down His life in the name of the Brother and the Sister.. It was sacked, the local population of the faithful murdered. Pilgrims tortured. The Pontiff of that city tortured cruelly and hung from the walls of the city...
"I urge you, brothers and sisters. Take up your arms and your knightly duty, and you will achieve Absolution for your many sins. Take up the standard of the faith and cry, Deos Volentes!!!"
"Deos Volentes!!!"
The crowd cries as one, and the great lords and knights kneel to take an oath to recover the lands of the faithful. Your past lays out before you, you who were....
[ ] A distant relation to your kingdom's ruling family. Your father is a respected Duke, but you are a fourth son, far from inheriting anything. (Ducal Background unlocked)
[ ] The second son of a minor lord. Your brother rules your family lands, and you became his right-hand man until your sin drove you from your home. (Lord Background Unlocked)
[ ] The son of a poor but respected knight of the realm. You wear your own father's armor and served his lord's family loyally until your sin drove you to the Holy Seat. (Knightly Background Unlocked)
[ ] A commoner-turned knight. You had been preparing to become a Consecrated Brother when the monastery that had taken you in was attacked. You led other pilgrims in its defense, and although grateful, the Brothers could not accept one who had shed blood among them. Luckily, an anointed knight had made the pilgrimage there... (Holy Knight Background Unlocked)
[ ] A merchant's son whose father had cajoled and bribed your lay into the squirehood and, subsequently, the knighthood. (A Knight Among Merchants Background Unlocked)
None of that matters. The war to the east calls you.
A/N. For those who might not know, I am mostly active on spacebattles as almostinsane. I have decided to crosspost a quest from there here if anyone's interested.
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Codex
Codex
Religions
Faith of the Two
The predominant faith in western Occam, it centers upon a mysterious figure known as the Redeemer's preaching of a single deity, that of God manifested as the Brother and the Sister, otherwise known as the Two. Due to the Redeemer's preaching against the divinity of the Akhaioi Emperor, the Old Akhaioi Emperor sentenced him to death by fire, but the faith did not decrease. Spurred on my stories of the Redeemer's miracles and the promise of a better world both here and in Paradise, many converted until it became the official faith of the Empire.
The Faith maintains an open-minded policy on the nature of the Two where it is held in the remnants of the Akhaioi Empire that he was an exalted man whom the current dynasty claims descent from whereas in the kingdoms outside of Akhaioi's sway, he was the divine embodiment of the Two Themselves, and a small minority maintain he was merely an extraordinary prophet and teacher. The faith emphasizes the need for duality: for peace to exist, there must be war, for growth, decay, for life, death, for water, fire, for male, female, etc., culminating in the Brother, who embodies masculine concepts such as justice, war, craftsmanship, and men, and the Sister, who embodies feminine concepts such as purity, mercy, song, and growth.
Heresies
Matrimonial Heresy: A publicly condemned heresy from the quill of the infamous monk, Artorious, this heresy preaches a doctrine too depraved for the faith to tolerate. It claims the Two are in a conjugal union and from that union, springs existence itself. It honors and encourages incestuous unions, particularly between brother and sister, claiming such offspring are pure and holy. They claim the Redeemer sprang from such an union.
Character Creation Part 2/The Holy Seat
You take a moment to stretch as you stand up in what could generously be called a tent. It was worn, made of sheepskin, and it didn't keep all the rain out, but it was enough for yourself and your squire, and for that, you were grateful to your father for gifting it to you upon your departure. Old Henri de'Talouse had been gruff in your parting, his voice long-groan hoarse with wage and his hand sore from striking your face repeatedly, but he had grasped your shoulder nonetheless.
"I pray you be found worthy to rise on Parousia. Brother guide your steps."
"Ugh.. There were plenty of inns in the city. We coulda stayed in one," your Squire complains, dexterously fitting you in your gambeson. Where wealthier knights and lords might wear linen or even silks from far-off Han, you possess no clothes to speak of. Perhaps you can rectify that today.
"I told you. It was best we saved the gold. The weather is fair in early spring, and we do not yet know what plunder we shall have before we reached Niishan or what we may find on the way."
You know little of the Akhaioi. You know they did not acknowledge the Redeemer's divinity, and they were rich, but you have never had the pleasure of visiting the capital of Heurides, and your tutor focused on Valois. You nodd absently as your money pouch is tied to your side.
"You never know what this world might throw at you. Money is as useful as any weapon. Remember that."
"Aye, Ser Armand... Though, you needn't to tell me that."
You couldn't suppress a fond smile as you gaze down at your squire:
[ ] A black-haired girl approaching 14 summers, give or take. Valoisan, naturally, she had begged you to take her on a few years ago. She wanted to fall into the footsteps of Fleur D'Orleans, the legendary lady knight who founded the Order of Arc Knights. For a woman to be a knight was unheard of, but Ser Fleur found a way. This grey-eyed child met your gaze as firmly as she did now, and you couldn't find it in your heart to say no. She had no family name, but she was known as Dominilde.
[ ] A blond haired lad at about 11 summers, you had met him when fight in one of Mercia's many conflicts. The youngest son of an Earl, he was wet behind the ears, and you did not yet trust him to handle himself in battle, but he was smart as a whip, much smarter than you. And faultless in his piety. He was Ælfred of Wiltshire, and you felt he could reach greatness with or without you.
[ ] A lad of mixed Leonese and pagan Excan heritage and uncertain age, not many would have given such a boy a second glance, but you took him in. Maybe it was pity for his cynical demeanor or amusement at how he stared into the sunset, but the two of you had built a tight bond overtime. He took poorly to subservience and he frustrated you to no end, but he saved your life at least twice. You were glad to have Diego at your side.
[ ] A lad of 12 years from the Principality of Florencia, his father was a merchant of some importance, and his mother was, as the corpulent man had put it, "a jewel from the heathen east." Your father had spent quite a sum "convincing" you to take him on, but you felt that young, Alessandro di'Capua, had earned his keep. Someone who knew how merchants worked was useful at any rate.
[ ] A lad of 14 summers you took on during your journeys in the Gothan Kingdoms. His pedigree outshone yours like the sun outshined the stars. Unfortunate that his family was slain and all that. It was a sad fact of life in this wretched world, especially in the fracturous Gothan Kingdoms,, but young Otto Friedrichson carried himself like the young prince he was.
Satisfied that you were prepared for the day ahead of you, you signal for your squire to follow you as you made your way through the encampment outside the city's walls and into the markets of the Holy Seat itself. Despite this being a holy city, you knew there to be brothels within the walls, and your Mercian friend was most likely within one. You bit the inside of your cheek. You longed to meet with him, but the temptations of the brothel were many, and you were on a sworn, holy quest. Surely it did not work the way Beorn theorized, that one could sin as much as one liked as the completion of the quest expiated all wrongdoing.
You sigh and gaze at your reflection in the mirror in one of the shops. The glass is foggy and unrefined, not like the rare Hannish made ones only kings and high nobility could afford, but you can still make out your features.
(Choose Appearance)
[ ]
[ ]
[ ]
[ ]
[ ] Other Image
"Do you have the silver I gave you?" you ask your squire quietly, turning your gaze away from yourself. Your protege nods, and you grasp their shoulder.
"Then the morning is yours to do as you see fit. See to it that you make merry and buy what you need. Both are important in preparing for this war ahead of us."
At your squire's nod, you turn to the city before you.
(Choose 3)
[ ] You will visit one of the famous reliquaries. The bones of many of the saints are stored there, and you long for the opportunity to venerate one while you can. You have heard rumors of groups of some of the more pious knights meeting at one of them, making plans and taking extra vows.
[ ] The tourney outside the walls. Whether you participated or not, many great lords and knights would be there.
[ ] The marketplace. Besides weapons and armor to supplement or replace your well-used equipment, the marketplace has rations, food, scrolls, books, and even maps available.
[ ] The stables. You lack a horse, and it may prove useful in the battles ahead. Although, one would cost at least 10 Gold Sovereigns.
[ ] The brothels and inns. You still need to find your friend, and perhaps you can resist the temptation to drink or waste your time with less.. honorable activities.
[ ] One of the noble ladies ran a salon in her chateau. You know not if you would be welcome there, but still, you inquire from a shopkeeper about who was running it. Your heart skips a beat at the name. Claire de'Beaumont. The married name of the girl you knew as Claire de'Talouse. Your little sister..
A/N. I will be posting the character sheet momentarily. Choose wisely. Stats affect gameplay. I hope to post a details explanation of them soon.
"I pray you be found worthy to rise on Parousia. Brother guide your steps."
"Ugh.. There were plenty of inns in the city. We coulda stayed in one," your Squire complains, dexterously fitting you in your gambeson. Where wealthier knights and lords might wear linen or even silks from far-off Han, you possess no clothes to speak of. Perhaps you can rectify that today.
"I told you. It was best we saved the gold. The weather is fair in early spring, and we do not yet know what plunder we shall have before we reached Niishan or what we may find on the way."
Must be >10 to for success
Roll 8
8=Fail
Roll 8
8=Fail
You know little of the Akhaioi. You know they did not acknowledge the Redeemer's divinity, and they were rich, but you have never had the pleasure of visiting the capital of Heurides, and your tutor focused on Valois. You nodd absently as your money pouch is tied to your side.
"You never know what this world might throw at you. Money is as useful as any weapon. Remember that."
"Aye, Ser Armand... Though, you needn't to tell me that."
You couldn't suppress a fond smile as you gaze down at your squire:
[ ] A black-haired girl approaching 14 summers, give or take. Valoisan, naturally, she had begged you to take her on a few years ago. She wanted to fall into the footsteps of Fleur D'Orleans, the legendary lady knight who founded the Order of Arc Knights. For a woman to be a knight was unheard of, but Ser Fleur found a way. This grey-eyed child met your gaze as firmly as she did now, and you couldn't find it in your heart to say no. She had no family name, but she was known as Dominilde.
[ ] A blond haired lad at about 11 summers, you had met him when fight in one of Mercia's many conflicts. The youngest son of an Earl, he was wet behind the ears, and you did not yet trust him to handle himself in battle, but he was smart as a whip, much smarter than you. And faultless in his piety. He was Ælfred of Wiltshire, and you felt he could reach greatness with or without you.
[ ] A lad of mixed Leonese and pagan Excan heritage and uncertain age, not many would have given such a boy a second glance, but you took him in. Maybe it was pity for his cynical demeanor or amusement at how he stared into the sunset, but the two of you had built a tight bond overtime. He took poorly to subservience and he frustrated you to no end, but he saved your life at least twice. You were glad to have Diego at your side.
[ ] A lad of 12 years from the Principality of Florencia, his father was a merchant of some importance, and his mother was, as the corpulent man had put it, "a jewel from the heathen east." Your father had spent quite a sum "convincing" you to take him on, but you felt that young, Alessandro di'Capua, had earned his keep. Someone who knew how merchants worked was useful at any rate.
[ ] A lad of 14 summers you took on during your journeys in the Gothan Kingdoms. His pedigree outshone yours like the sun outshined the stars. Unfortunate that his family was slain and all that. It was a sad fact of life in this wretched world, especially in the fracturous Gothan Kingdoms,, but young Otto Friedrichson carried himself like the young prince he was.
Satisfied that you were prepared for the day ahead of you, you signal for your squire to follow you as you made your way through the encampment outside the city's walls and into the markets of the Holy Seat itself. Despite this being a holy city, you knew there to be brothels within the walls, and your Mercian friend was most likely within one. You bit the inside of your cheek. You longed to meet with him, but the temptations of the brothel were many, and you were on a sworn, holy quest. Surely it did not work the way Beorn theorized, that one could sin as much as one liked as the completion of the quest expiated all wrongdoing.
You sigh and gaze at your reflection in the mirror in one of the shops. The glass is foggy and unrefined, not like the rare Hannish made ones only kings and high nobility could afford, but you can still make out your features.
(Choose Appearance)
[ ]
[ ]
[ ]
[ ]
[ ] Other Image
"Do you have the silver I gave you?" you ask your squire quietly, turning your gaze away from yourself. Your protege nods, and you grasp their shoulder.
"Then the morning is yours to do as you see fit. See to it that you make merry and buy what you need. Both are important in preparing for this war ahead of us."
At your squire's nod, you turn to the city before you.
(Choose 3)
[ ] You will visit one of the famous reliquaries. The bones of many of the saints are stored there, and you long for the opportunity to venerate one while you can. You have heard rumors of groups of some of the more pious knights meeting at one of them, making plans and taking extra vows.
[ ] The tourney outside the walls. Whether you participated or not, many great lords and knights would be there.
[ ] The marketplace. Besides weapons and armor to supplement or replace your well-used equipment, the marketplace has rations, food, scrolls, books, and even maps available.
[ ] The stables. You lack a horse, and it may prove useful in the battles ahead. Although, one would cost at least 10 Gold Sovereigns.
[ ] The brothels and inns. You still need to find your friend, and perhaps you can resist the temptation to drink or waste your time with less.. honorable activities.
[ ] One of the noble ladies ran a salon in her chateau. You know not if you would be welcome there, but still, you inquire from a shopkeeper about who was running it. Your heart skips a beat at the name. Claire de'Beaumont. The married name of the girl you knew as Claire de'Talouse. Your little sister..
A/N. I will be posting the character sheet momentarily. Choose wisely. Stats affect gameplay. I hope to post a details explanation of them soon.
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Character Sheet
Character Sheet
Name: Armand de'Talouse
Titles: Ser,
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Status: Annointed Knight,
Stats
Diplomacy: 6
Mounted Combat: 8
Unmounted Combat: 8
Tactics: 6
Intrigue: 5
Stewardship: 5
Trading: 4
Lore: 5
Piety: 5
Honor: 6
Fertility: 8
Background
Knightly Background- The son of a poor but respected knight of the realm. You wear your own father's armor. Peasants respect you as an anointed knight, and your fellow knights and minor lords see you as one of their number. However, high lords may be dismissive of your background, and merchants suspect your motives. The Faith and the Holy Seat acknowledge you as an anointed knight. Yours is not a storied lineage. Your actions will shape how the world sees you.
+2 Mounted/Unmounted Combat
+1 Tactics
+15 Gold Sovereigns at Start
-1 Trading
Sin
Incestuous Heretic: Though your sin is not well-known, it is a dire one. Your feelings towards your younger sister diverted from the proper order, and you became far too attached to each other at an early age. Your sister learned of a forbidden teaching legitimizing your sin, and you fell into bed together. When your father learned of this, he drove you from his household. Your lord agreed to keep this quiet out of respect for your father, but you were no longer welcome in his service. You feel far from God, and the sins of the flesh seem easier to fall into.
-1 Piety
-2 Intrigue when being seduced
-3 Gold Sovereigns at Start
+3 Fertility
+2 Intrigue when seducing others
Traits
Professional Killer: You draw your sword for combat, not mummers' farces.
+1 to Combat Rolls when in deadly battle
Vow of No Retreat; +1 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat if adhered to.
The Beginning of Restraint: Armand now has two chances to pass a Self-Control Roll
The Gods Have a Sense of Humor- When meeting the unexpected, you tend to respond with wry amusement. +1 Diplomacy
Inventory
12 Gold Sovereigns
Gambeson
Your father's chain and plate armor
Your Family Helm (+1 Honor; +1 to injury checks)
A longsword
Current Heir
None
Other Legitimate Children
None
Bastards
None
Your Household
Your Squire: Dominilde of Valois
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The Reliquary Part 1
The news of your sister's presence in town has left you shaken. You're tempted to make your way to tourney outside the walls and bash some skulls in, but Dominilde had indicated that she would like to join a Squire's Tournament, and you wanted her to have time apart from you. Given that your sister's saloon wouldn't be until evening, that left the only other activity you had decided on for the day: the Reliquary.
You quietly make your way through the crowds. As you head for the Cathedral of Saint Ann d'Chavoy, you eye lingers on dark alley that you knew led to Beorn's preferred inns and brothels. You are tempted to storm your way in there and drag the flippant Mercian, but you think better of it. If the man wanted to engage in debauchery before the war, that was between him, the Two, and the Redeemer. A band of loiterers eye you from the other side of the market, but your grip on your longsword quickly dissuades them.
A priest greets you as you step into the the Cathedral. Your eyes are drawn to the statues of the saints and the stained-glass windows. You see men and women praying before the alter the statues of the Brother and Sister. A knight has laid his sword before an icon of the sister, and he weeps. You eye for a way down into the catacombs and Reliquary beneath this Cathedral when a sweet voice catches your attention.
"The Mother is ever ready to grant her pardon, Ser. Perhaps you would like to pray up here, for a moment?" a young priestess asks you. She is pretty, far prettier than the old hag at your father's estate. You nod your head respectfully.
"I have long since confessed my sins and repented, Sister. Satisfaction remains. And I will not gain it here."
"Still, repeated prayer and abasement can grant some satisfaction," she presses you, "If you would but whisper your sins to the Sister, you may find some peace."
She gestures to a wooden icon of the Mother in the corner. The knight from before has left. You find yourself eying it thoughtfully. She bows her head.
"I am here to provide whatever spiritual counsel I can."
You raise an eyebrow, "You are young to be offering counsel, Priestess..."
"Ambre. The Archpriest has taken ill. I was more than ready to counsel in his stead."
[ ] "I will take a moment to pray, but I cannot speak now. I may seek you out as I leave." (pray before the icon; gain the option to speak to )
[ ] "I will abase myself enough in the Reliquary, Priestess Ambre." (don't pray before the icon)
***
Quietly, you make your way down the stone stairs. Torches line the walls of the stone alcove, giving you dim light to guide you. The catacombs are filled with the stench of decay and old incense. Nonetheless, a group of knights has gathered before a huge, bearded knight. Braziers are lit to give light to the relics of the saints placed respectfully on the altars: old pieces of cloth, bones, skulls, drinking cups. Relics were the remains of the blessed who returned to the Brother and Sister and whatever may have touched their skin in life.
"I am like you, my brothers. I have shed innocent blood! Can any among you say he has not?!" he cried, his deep voice booming in the Reliquary. Dimly, you wonder whether the worshipers above could hear him. The men before him murmur in agreement. Such was their reality.
"Aye, and what's more, I have not been chaste. I have not been just. I fear the judgement of the Two. Yet, I still draw breath, and I will not waste my chance to make things right. Will you?!"
He gestures to the relics, "Join with me, my brothers. Do not fight for honor, do not fight for riches, do not fight for glory. Conduct yourselves as worth knights of the Two, and we will prevail on this quest. We will reclaim the Holy Land! We will walk on the streets of Nihsan in the footsteps of the Redeemer. And we will hold our heads up high as if newly knighted. For the Two will not seek Satisfaction from us in the next world. We would have already given it!"
The knights cheer and, despite yourself, you feel your heart swell. Your fornication with your sister feels like less of a stain, as if it could be wiped away. You step forward.
"Nice words, Ser, but who are you?"
"Ah, a newcomer. Welcome, welcome. I am Ser Payne de'Hughes, Formerly Duke of Chateu di Leon," he greets you with a vow. You blink in surprise.
"Formerly?"
"Aye. I bequeathed my title to my little brother so I may focus on this quest. Wordly desires cloud your judgement. I don't know about you, but I won't seek any titles or riches from this endeavor."
You stroke your chin,
[ ] "I don't know. Titles are nice, and you won't go far without gold." (Possible Trait Gain)
[ ] "The heathens have stained the blood of the Holy Land. I would purify some part of it as my fief, Ser." (Possible Trait Gain)
[ ] "Your words burn in my heart, brother." (possible trait gain)
"I would form a company of knights, my brother. Sworn directly to the Exalted Pontiff and deferent only to his representative by decree of the Holy Seat," Ser Payn continued, "I do not ask anyone to remain after the war, but I would have their obedience. Unholy interests eye this quest. Especially that bastard Enrico da Ferraro."
He spits.
You raise an eyebrow.
"And he is?"
"A merchant "prince" from one of the Free Cities. He has loaned a lot of gold and silver to the Holy Seat for this expedition. I hear he has business interests with the Empire of Akhaioi. I do not trust such men. Their god is finance, and a cruel god she is."
"Will you join my company?" he continues, "I have twenty good men already. With no feudal lord, we can keep the war focused on the goal. I will speak with your liege lord and settle accounts myself. You will travel and fight with us and we will fight at your side. We have pooled our resources to purchase the services of some Florencian galleys. Wherever your path may take you after the war, we will have bled with you and become as brothers."
You take in his words. You had initially assumed you'd be traveling on one of the ships levied for the Valoisans, your countrymen, but you couldn't deny that traveling with a smaller company with autonomy. But then, you'd need to vow obedience to Ser Payn. Other options may present themselves.
[ ] "You are fortunate. I have none. I will join you." (Swear to join Ser Payn's Company)
[ ] "I will have to think and pray on this, Ser. (Decide on this later)
[ ] "You cause is just, Ser, but my heart tells me that this is not my path. (Refuse)
"Regardless of your decision, I urge you to take extra vows here, in this holy place. The Exalted Assembly of Saints and the Two are sure to aid you in your travels should you take the vows."
You gaze at the relics... (Can only choose two. Breaking a vow will have consequences)
[ ] You walk before the skull of Saint Sigmund, "I vow to never kill the innocent." (Vow of Benevolence taken; +1 to Diplomacy until Nihsan is taken; permanent +2 to Diplomacy if adhered to)
[ ] You grip the gauntlet of Saint Sigrid, "I will never retreat from battle. This, I swear." (Vow of No Retreat; +1 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat if adhered to)
[ ] You grab the skeletal hand of an unknown saint, "I vow to always save the life of a brother knight or my squire. (Vow to Protection: +1 to Tactics until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Tactics if adhered to)
[ ] You touch the cloak of St. Cyril, "I will take only what I am given and withold no loot from my brothers or lawful superior. (Vow of Restraint; +1 to Stewardship until Nihsan is taken; +2 Stewardship if adhered to)
[ ] You kiss the quill of St. Bede, "I vow to never lie." (Vow of Truth; +1 to Trade until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Trade if adhered to)
[ ] You gaze at the skull of St. Athanesia, "I vow to never engage in unlawful sexual intercourse." (Vow of Chastity: +1 to Intrigue until Nihsan is Taken; +2 to Intrigue if adhered to.)
[ ] You place your hand on the diary of St. Stuart the Old, "I will protect sources of knowledge, whatever they be. This, I swear." (Vow of Enlightenment: +1 to Lore; +2 to Lore if adhered to.)
A/N. I wrote much more than I thought I would today. Please vote in a Plan format given the many options available."
You quietly make your way through the crowds. As you head for the Cathedral of Saint Ann d'Chavoy, you eye lingers on dark alley that you knew led to Beorn's preferred inns and brothels. You are tempted to storm your way in there and drag the flippant Mercian, but you think better of it. If the man wanted to engage in debauchery before the war, that was between him, the Two, and the Redeemer. A band of loiterers eye you from the other side of the market, but your grip on your longsword quickly dissuades them.
A priest greets you as you step into the the Cathedral. Your eyes are drawn to the statues of the saints and the stained-glass windows. You see men and women praying before the alter the statues of the Brother and Sister. A knight has laid his sword before an icon of the sister, and he weeps. You eye for a way down into the catacombs and Reliquary beneath this Cathedral when a sweet voice catches your attention.
"The Mother is ever ready to grant her pardon, Ser. Perhaps you would like to pray up here, for a moment?" a young priestess asks you. She is pretty, far prettier than the old hag at your father's estate. You nod your head respectfully.
"I have long since confessed my sins and repented, Sister. Satisfaction remains. And I will not gain it here."
"Still, repeated prayer and abasement can grant some satisfaction," she presses you, "If you would but whisper your sins to the Sister, you may find some peace."
She gestures to a wooden icon of the Mother in the corner. The knight from before has left. You find yourself eying it thoughtfully. She bows her head.
"I am here to provide whatever spiritual counsel I can."
You raise an eyebrow, "You are young to be offering counsel, Priestess..."
"Ambre. The Archpriest has taken ill. I was more than ready to counsel in his stead."
[ ] "I will take a moment to pray, but I cannot speak now. I may seek you out as I leave." (pray before the icon; gain the option to speak to )
[ ] "I will abase myself enough in the Reliquary, Priestess Ambre." (don't pray before the icon)
***
Quietly, you make your way down the stone stairs. Torches line the walls of the stone alcove, giving you dim light to guide you. The catacombs are filled with the stench of decay and old incense. Nonetheless, a group of knights has gathered before a huge, bearded knight. Braziers are lit to give light to the relics of the saints placed respectfully on the altars: old pieces of cloth, bones, skulls, drinking cups. Relics were the remains of the blessed who returned to the Brother and Sister and whatever may have touched their skin in life.
"I am like you, my brothers. I have shed innocent blood! Can any among you say he has not?!" he cried, his deep voice booming in the Reliquary. Dimly, you wonder whether the worshipers above could hear him. The men before him murmur in agreement. Such was their reality.
"Aye, and what's more, I have not been chaste. I have not been just. I fear the judgement of the Two. Yet, I still draw breath, and I will not waste my chance to make things right. Will you?!"
He gestures to the relics, "Join with me, my brothers. Do not fight for honor, do not fight for riches, do not fight for glory. Conduct yourselves as worth knights of the Two, and we will prevail on this quest. We will reclaim the Holy Land! We will walk on the streets of Nihsan in the footsteps of the Redeemer. And we will hold our heads up high as if newly knighted. For the Two will not seek Satisfaction from us in the next world. We would have already given it!"
The knights cheer and, despite yourself, you feel your heart swell. Your fornication with your sister feels like less of a stain, as if it could be wiped away. You step forward.
"Nice words, Ser, but who are you?"
"Ah, a newcomer. Welcome, welcome. I am Ser Payne de'Hughes, Formerly Duke of Chateu di Leon," he greets you with a vow. You blink in surprise.
"Formerly?"
"Aye. I bequeathed my title to my little brother so I may focus on this quest. Wordly desires cloud your judgement. I don't know about you, but I won't seek any titles or riches from this endeavor."
You stroke your chin,
[ ] "I don't know. Titles are nice, and you won't go far without gold." (Possible Trait Gain)
[ ] "The heathens have stained the blood of the Holy Land. I would purify some part of it as my fief, Ser." (Possible Trait Gain)
[ ] "Your words burn in my heart, brother." (possible trait gain)
"I would form a company of knights, my brother. Sworn directly to the Exalted Pontiff and deferent only to his representative by decree of the Holy Seat," Ser Payn continued, "I do not ask anyone to remain after the war, but I would have their obedience. Unholy interests eye this quest. Especially that bastard Enrico da Ferraro."
He spits.
You raise an eyebrow.
"And he is?"
"A merchant "prince" from one of the Free Cities. He has loaned a lot of gold and silver to the Holy Seat for this expedition. I hear he has business interests with the Empire of Akhaioi. I do not trust such men. Their god is finance, and a cruel god she is."
"Will you join my company?" he continues, "I have twenty good men already. With no feudal lord, we can keep the war focused on the goal. I will speak with your liege lord and settle accounts myself. You will travel and fight with us and we will fight at your side. We have pooled our resources to purchase the services of some Florencian galleys. Wherever your path may take you after the war, we will have bled with you and become as brothers."
You take in his words. You had initially assumed you'd be traveling on one of the ships levied for the Valoisans, your countrymen, but you couldn't deny that traveling with a smaller company with autonomy. But then, you'd need to vow obedience to Ser Payn. Other options may present themselves.
[ ] "You are fortunate. I have none. I will join you." (Swear to join Ser Payn's Company)
[ ] "I will have to think and pray on this, Ser. (Decide on this later)
[ ] "You cause is just, Ser, but my heart tells me that this is not my path. (Refuse)
"Regardless of your decision, I urge you to take extra vows here, in this holy place. The Exalted Assembly of Saints and the Two are sure to aid you in your travels should you take the vows."
You gaze at the relics... (Can only choose two. Breaking a vow will have consequences)
[ ] You walk before the skull of Saint Sigmund, "I vow to never kill the innocent." (Vow of Benevolence taken; +1 to Diplomacy until Nihsan is taken; permanent +2 to Diplomacy if adhered to)
[ ] You grip the gauntlet of Saint Sigrid, "I will never retreat from battle. This, I swear." (Vow of No Retreat; +1 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat if adhered to)
[ ] You grab the skeletal hand of an unknown saint, "I vow to always save the life of a brother knight or my squire. (Vow to Protection: +1 to Tactics until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Tactics if adhered to)
[ ] You touch the cloak of St. Cyril, "I will take only what I am given and withold no loot from my brothers or lawful superior. (Vow of Restraint; +1 to Stewardship until Nihsan is taken; +2 Stewardship if adhered to)
[ ] You kiss the quill of St. Bede, "I vow to never lie." (Vow of Truth; +1 to Trade until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Trade if adhered to)
[ ] You gaze at the skull of St. Athanesia, "I vow to never engage in unlawful sexual intercourse." (Vow of Chastity: +1 to Intrigue until Nihsan is Taken; +2 to Intrigue if adhered to.)
[ ] You place your hand on the diary of St. Stuart the Old, "I will protect sources of knowledge, whatever they be. This, I swear." (Vow of Enlightenment: +1 to Lore; +2 to Lore if adhered to.)
A/N. I wrote much more than I thought I would today. Please vote in a Plan format given the many options available."
The Reliquary Part 2/The Tourney Part 1
"Your cause is just, Ser, but my heart tells me that this is not my path," you tell Ser Payn after a moment of consideration. Yes, the offer is enticing. A fledgling knightly order would make a powerful ally, but you you hesitate at the vow. What did you know about Ser Payn that you would pledge him obedience during the war? And, if he should be as devoted to the Two as he appears, what then? Could you live up to that? As you told him with some surprise before, you do long for lands of your own, a village or even a town over which you can erect a keep and whose commoners would call you "lord." 'Twould go a long way in living up to the name your father gave you.
Could you square that with the fervent devotion in Ser Payn's eyes.
You think you know the answer.
"I am honored to be among such holy company," You announce, gesturing to the relics. You eye the gauntlet of Saint Sigrid, a fierce handmaiden who joined the Empire's Guard in Akhaioi. She died for for her liege, taking a dozen arrows rather than allow him to be taken captive in a lost battle. She brought the fierce Northman spirit east. 'Brother,' you pray, 'Send at least some of that spirt upon me now.'
You grip the gauntlet of Saint Sigrid, "I will never retreat from battle. This, I swear." (Vow of No Retreat; +1 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat if adhered to)
"A chivalrous vow. May the Brother strengthen your hand and the Sister temper your steel, Ser Knight, " the other knight told you.
"And yours, Ser Payn."
***
You left the Reliquary, you eyes falling upon the icon of the Mother whom you paid your respects to before your descent. You had confessed your sin to God's merciful aspect, and you felt your burden lightened somewhat, a tear falling from your eye. Satisfaction had to be done, but now, as you sit beside the priestess, you feel your spirit lightened. (+1 Piety)
"Sister... What may I call you," You inquire. The priestess smiles at you.
"Evelyn, Ser Knight. What counsel may I offer you?"
[ ] Write-In.
***
After your talk with the priestess, you make your way into the market square and, deciding against purchasing more equipment for now, you head towards the road outside the city and onto the flat plains before the walls, the same plains you had visited with Ser Beorn, wherever he might be. Obviously, you avoid the crowd of peasants peering over the wooden fence on the far side of the tourney. Rather, you make your way to the brightly colored tents where many a lord and knight could be found, some strapping on plate for the coming games, others, obviously mere spectators, taking the time to play games of chance or drinking heavily of the mead that was available at many a makeshift pub. Hearing clashing from the tourney grounds, you decide to make your way there first.
"Saint-Fleur!!" a young woman cries amid the den of clashing metal and pained cries. You smile despite yourself, unsurprised to see your young charge amidst what appeared to be a Squire's Melee. You approvingly note that she is wearing her leathers and chain mail. It is a gamble considering that it made it much less easy to endure a good hit, but it allows her just a little bit of extra speed and maneuverability to prevent such and take advantage of the battlefield. Still, you have to force your face to remain neutral when a her helm is struck by a blunted longsword, caving it in and pushing it back. She quickly removes it and hacks a bit of blood to her side. She repositions her greatsword and moves to strike back at her opponent with a flurry of blows.
"Ah, an Arc Knight aspirant. Tis a foolish or a cruel master who takes such a lass on," someone in the stands notes. He strokes his beard in amusement. As those around him voice their agreement, you eye his clothes: linen of fine make in crimson and gold. A wealthy man, you note. You raise an eyebrow.
"You sound Valoisan, friend. Are not Arc Knights a point of pride among us?" You ask. He regards you with a slight smile.
"We, mon ami. That is true. But their number is but 125 last I checked. Many a peasant or well-bred lady hears the tale of Saint Fleur, but most learn they cannot match her. Few are those who can transcend nature's limits, man or woman."
You eye the melee thoughtfully. Your squire is in earshot, and the man's words spur her on, causing her fling herself forward into battle. Twenty youths remain, all armed and armoured. A majority of them most likely grew in households similar to your own, molded for battle. Dominilde has made great strides under your tutelage, but how far can she go?
"How many were there to start with, ser?" You ask, as though in deep thought.
"40, ser. We are but halfway through the match," he returns. He gestures for you to sit next to him. A similarly well-dressed man regards your simple gambeson with contempt, but he stands and allows you take his spot.
"I must confess I am a betting man at these tournaments, to my shame and, this day, good fortune. How about you stranger?"
[ ] "I am not, but she will win, my friend. Mark my words." (Possible trait gain)
[ ] "Five gold sovereigns says she is amongst the last five," You announce. (Win five gold sovereigns if successful; lose five if unsuccessful.)
[ ] "Ten Sovereigns says she is one of the two who fights for the final victory." (Win ten gold sovereigns if successful; lose ten if unsuccessful.)
[ ] "My family helm says to your horse that she wins it all, ser." (Bet your Family Helm against a warhorse)
[ ] "I do not bet, ser. But I swear on my honor, that my squire will win." (Put your honor on the line)
[ ] Write-In
A/N. And this is where we are so far. Happy reading/voting.
Could you square that with the fervent devotion in Ser Payn's eyes.
You think you know the answer.
"I am honored to be among such holy company," You announce, gesturing to the relics. You eye the gauntlet of Saint Sigrid, a fierce handmaiden who joined the Empire's Guard in Akhaioi. She died for for her liege, taking a dozen arrows rather than allow him to be taken captive in a lost battle. She brought the fierce Northman spirit east. 'Brother,' you pray, 'Send at least some of that spirt upon me now.'
You grip the gauntlet of Saint Sigrid, "I will never retreat from battle. This, I swear." (Vow of No Retreat; +1 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat until Nihsan is taken; +2 to Mounted and Unmounted Combat if adhered to)
"A chivalrous vow. May the Brother strengthen your hand and the Sister temper your steel, Ser Knight, " the other knight told you.
"And yours, Ser Payn."
***
You left the Reliquary, you eyes falling upon the icon of the Mother whom you paid your respects to before your descent. You had confessed your sin to God's merciful aspect, and you felt your burden lightened somewhat, a tear falling from your eye. Satisfaction had to be done, but now, as you sit beside the priestess, you feel your spirit lightened. (+1 Piety)
"Sister... What may I call you," You inquire. The priestess smiles at you.
"Evelyn, Ser Knight. What counsel may I offer you?"
[ ] Write-In.
***
After your talk with the priestess, you make your way into the market square and, deciding against purchasing more equipment for now, you head towards the road outside the city and onto the flat plains before the walls, the same plains you had visited with Ser Beorn, wherever he might be. Obviously, you avoid the crowd of peasants peering over the wooden fence on the far side of the tourney. Rather, you make your way to the brightly colored tents where many a lord and knight could be found, some strapping on plate for the coming games, others, obviously mere spectators, taking the time to play games of chance or drinking heavily of the mead that was available at many a makeshift pub. Hearing clashing from the tourney grounds, you decide to make your way there first.
"Saint-Fleur!!" a young woman cries amid the den of clashing metal and pained cries. You smile despite yourself, unsurprised to see your young charge amidst what appeared to be a Squire's Melee. You approvingly note that she is wearing her leathers and chain mail. It is a gamble considering that it made it much less easy to endure a good hit, but it allows her just a little bit of extra speed and maneuverability to prevent such and take advantage of the battlefield. Still, you have to force your face to remain neutral when a her helm is struck by a blunted longsword, caving it in and pushing it back. She quickly removes it and hacks a bit of blood to her side. She repositions her greatsword and moves to strike back at her opponent with a flurry of blows.
"Ah, an Arc Knight aspirant. Tis a foolish or a cruel master who takes such a lass on," someone in the stands notes. He strokes his beard in amusement. As those around him voice their agreement, you eye his clothes: linen of fine make in crimson and gold. A wealthy man, you note. You raise an eyebrow.
"You sound Valoisan, friend. Are not Arc Knights a point of pride among us?" You ask. He regards you with a slight smile.
"We, mon ami. That is true. But their number is but 125 last I checked. Many a peasant or well-bred lady hears the tale of Saint Fleur, but most learn they cannot match her. Few are those who can transcend nature's limits, man or woman."
You eye the melee thoughtfully. Your squire is in earshot, and the man's words spur her on, causing her fling herself forward into battle. Twenty youths remain, all armed and armoured. A majority of them most likely grew in households similar to your own, molded for battle. Dominilde has made great strides under your tutelage, but how far can she go?
"How many were there to start with, ser?" You ask, as though in deep thought.
"40, ser. We are but halfway through the match," he returns. He gestures for you to sit next to him. A similarly well-dressed man regards your simple gambeson with contempt, but he stands and allows you take his spot.
"I must confess I am a betting man at these tournaments, to my shame and, this day, good fortune. How about you stranger?"
[ ] "I am not, but she will win, my friend. Mark my words." (Possible trait gain)
[ ] "Five gold sovereigns says she is amongst the last five," You announce. (Win five gold sovereigns if successful; lose five if unsuccessful.)
[ ] "Ten Sovereigns says she is one of the two who fights for the final victory." (Win ten gold sovereigns if successful; lose ten if unsuccessful.)
[ ] "My family helm says to your horse that she wins it all, ser." (Bet your Family Helm against a warhorse)
[ ] "I do not bet, ser. But I swear on my honor, that my squire will win." (Put your honor on the line)
[ ] Write-In
A/N. And this is where we are so far. Happy reading/voting.
Voting Closed. From the vote on SB, these are the winning options:
[x] Tell me Priestess, how should one avoid temptation in battle? I have seen it make beasts of men, and would hate to replace one sin with another.
[X] "I am not, but she will win, my friend. Mark my words." (Possible trait gain)
[x] Tell me Priestess, how should one avoid temptation in battle? I have seen it make beasts of men, and would hate to replace one sin with another.
[X] "I am not, but she will win, my friend. Mark my words." (Possible trait gain)
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The Tourney Part 2
"Evelyn, Ser Knight. What counsel may I offer you?"
You think for a moment, lost in memories, of battles fought and masters worthy and unworthy.
"Tell me Priestess, how should one avoid temptation in battle? I have seen it make beasts of men, and would hate to replace one sin with another," you confess. Since your father had banished you from his household, you had compromised your beliefs more than once, each time because the situation or the lord you had been serving at the time demanded it of you. But now...
"I am a free knight, Sister Evelyn. My actions are my own on this quest. The Exalted Pontiff has given it his highest blessing, but I am not so naïve as to shirk my responsibility for my own soul. I, and I alone will answer for what masters I shall serve and what deeds I shall perform."
"You fear this freedom?" she asks you softly.
"Yes... And no," you confess. You smile slightly. You remember what you told Ser Payn. The thought of battle and lands for the taking excite you as much as the striking out of the punishment your sin had surely incurred upon you, "It is a knight's dream. But I wish to be worthy of it."
The priests, Evelyn, smiles gently at you. She pushes a tress behind her ear, and you note with some shame that you cannot help but notice her beauty. She wasn't as fair as Claire but... No, you will not go down that route.
"The Two have their plans for all of us, Ser Knight. Some, They have placed upon thrones. Others, they decree to till the fields or to make the goods we all need to live. Still others, they choose to serve them in a special way. Perhaps as a pontiff or even one small priestess among many in a grand cathedral."
She gestures around her. The place is empty, and you cannot help but notice how utterly cold it is. She smiles at you.
"I will tell you a little secret. I used to weep every night here, asking the Sister why it is my father could afford a dowry for my two elder sisters, but not for me. I screamed at him when we parted. I am still ashamed of it. But, speaking and serving so many people less fortunate than I, I realized it was a silly girl's tantrum."
Her face is utterly serene, and you cannot help but notice her sadness, and you feel pity. Many families struggled to provide dowries for one daughter, let alone three. The church was the one place they could go. That or endure the shame of prostitution.
[ ] "Thank you, Sister. You humble me. May I have your blessing?" (+Piety; ???)
[ ] (Seduction) "You are in one of the greatest cities of the world, but you are trapped... Have you stepped outside these walls since you came here? Even for one night?"(-Piety; ???)
[ ] Write-In
***
"I am not, but she will win, my friend. Mark my words," you announce. The richly dressed man strokes his beard in surprise.
"Truly? To have such conviction in the ability's of one so disadvantaged... You- you interest me, mon ami," the man exclaims, clapping in excitement. He gestures to a servant, "Come, bring my friend and I a cup of Florentine Vintage. I would drink with my new friend while we see the truth of his words.
(Trait Gain: Quiet Assurance- You are not one for grandiose boasting or convoluted sophistry. You speak as someone with nothing to prove but the strength to back your words should you be challenged.
+1 Diplomacy; additional dialogue options may show up now and then, allowing you to bypass certain stat checks.)
"Saint-Fleur!!" Dominilde cries out, this time her voice causing an opponent to flinch. She strides forward and slams the flat of her blade down onto his helm with a crash, and you suppress the urge to wince, knowing from experience how painful a slam to your head could be, in spite of or even because of the hunk of metal it is surrounded by. He falls to the ground, motionless, and Dominilde strides forward. One down. 38 to go.
You have to fight the urge to smirk as your squire makes mincemeat out of her other challengers. The melee is still a confusing mess of a battle, but there are beginning to be standouts amid the den. Not counting your own squire, there is a scrawny-looking Leonese boy fighting with a blunted spear and a taller squire in heavy Gothan plate wielding a sword and shield. The Leonese boy dodges, evades, and counters, similar to Dominilde but without her ferocity. Meanwhile, the Gothan absorbs blow after blow, countering with strikes from his sword and bashes from his shield. Dominilde, meanwhile, is dodging and wearing down her opponents with sheer aggression.
"Oh my. She is a lioness, that one. Could she be northern-blooded?" the man beside you asks. You shrug, as though ignorant of the question, but the man laughs.
"Fine, fine. Keep her secrets. And yours for that matter."
Dominilde only slows down when 15 remain, but that does little to dampen her skill or determination. She is pursing the Leonese spearman who himself has begun to move sluggishly. The two exchange feints and counterblows before Dominilde rushes him and, dodging his spear, slams her body into his, knocking him flat to his back. With her sword held at his neck, he is forced to yield.
Before long, your squire and the Gothan are the only two who remain. Dominilde is breathing heavily, and you can tell she is drenched in sweat. Her decision to fight this way served her well, but you can tell she is exhausted. In comparison, the Gothan squire has exerted himself much less, trusting in his ability to absorb blows and counter with his own when given the opportunity. He does the same now as Dominilde charges at him, her greatsword slamming against his shield.
Over and over again, she attacks, but her opponent remains firm. You know for sure that he is bruised beneath his armor, but Dominilde's blows are weakening. Finally, she makes a critical mistake, her footing becoming less secure in her exhaustion, and the Gothan surges forward, closing the distance between them, making the reach of her greatsword useless. It becomes awkward in her hands as the other squire batters her body with his shield, and unlike her opponent, she lacks the heavy armor to absorb it. She is forced to kneel to the ground and her opponent holds a sword at her neck.
The melee had a clear winner.
The crowd, peasant and highborn alike, erupt in cheers of excitement, and you rise from your seat.
"I thank you for your hospitality, milord. But it seems I have a squire to attend to."
"Of course, my friend. This was a most thrilling spectacle. Your confidence was not misplaced."
He smiles at you.
"Prince Henri de'Chalens of Valois at your service."
[ ] At his words, you drop to your knee and kiss a ring he presents to you, "My Prince." (???)
[ ] You cross your arms, "This whole time? I was sitting by royalty, and I was the only one unknowing of it?!" (???)
[ ] You reaching out to clasp his arm, a traditional greeting between knights. Between equals, "Ser Armand de'Talouse." (???)
[ ] You can't help it. You laugh in sheer surprise at the situation as well as your own ignorance. You kneel, "Ser Armand, sire." (???)
[ ] -Write-In
You think for a moment, lost in memories, of battles fought and masters worthy and unworthy.
"Tell me Priestess, how should one avoid temptation in battle? I have seen it make beasts of men, and would hate to replace one sin with another," you confess. Since your father had banished you from his household, you had compromised your beliefs more than once, each time because the situation or the lord you had been serving at the time demanded it of you. But now...
"I am a free knight, Sister Evelyn. My actions are my own on this quest. The Exalted Pontiff has given it his highest blessing, but I am not so naïve as to shirk my responsibility for my own soul. I, and I alone will answer for what masters I shall serve and what deeds I shall perform."
"You fear this freedom?" she asks you softly.
"Yes... And no," you confess. You smile slightly. You remember what you told Ser Payn. The thought of battle and lands for the taking excite you as much as the striking out of the punishment your sin had surely incurred upon you, "It is a knight's dream. But I wish to be worthy of it."
The priests, Evelyn, smiles gently at you. She pushes a tress behind her ear, and you note with some shame that you cannot help but notice her beauty. She wasn't as fair as Claire but... No, you will not go down that route.
"The Two have their plans for all of us, Ser Knight. Some, They have placed upon thrones. Others, they decree to till the fields or to make the goods we all need to live. Still others, they choose to serve them in a special way. Perhaps as a pontiff or even one small priestess among many in a grand cathedral."
She gestures around her. The place is empty, and you cannot help but notice how utterly cold it is. She smiles at you.
"I will tell you a little secret. I used to weep every night here, asking the Sister why it is my father could afford a dowry for my two elder sisters, but not for me. I screamed at him when we parted. I am still ashamed of it. But, speaking and serving so many people less fortunate than I, I realized it was a silly girl's tantrum."
Her face is utterly serene, and you cannot help but notice her sadness, and you feel pity. Many families struggled to provide dowries for one daughter, let alone three. The church was the one place they could go. That or endure the shame of prostitution.
As an Incestuous Heretic, Ser Armand has difficulty controlling his base desires. He knows priestesses are forbidden, but he's already broken taboos' before.
Piety=5
Must be >10 to resist
=14
Piety=5
Must be >10 to resist
=14
[ ] "Thank you, Sister. You humble me. May I have your blessing?" (+Piety; ???)
[ ] (Seduction) "You are in one of the greatest cities of the world, but you are trapped... Have you stepped outside these walls since you came here? Even for one night?"(-Piety; ???)
[ ] Write-In
***
"I am not, but she will win, my friend. Mark my words," you announce. The richly dressed man strokes his beard in surprise.
"Truly? To have such conviction in the ability's of one so disadvantaged... You- you interest me, mon ami," the man exclaims, clapping in excitement. He gestures to a servant, "Come, bring my friend and I a cup of Florentine Vintage. I would drink with my new friend while we see the truth of his words.
(Trait Gain: Quiet Assurance- You are not one for grandiose boasting or convoluted sophistry. You speak as someone with nothing to prove but the strength to back your words should you be challenged.
+1 Diplomacy; additional dialogue options may show up now and then, allowing you to bypass certain stat checks.)
Dominilde's Unmounted Combat Skill: 6
Must be > 10 for success
Must have three successes to win.
17, 11, 7
=Success
=Success
=Fail
Must be > 10 for success
Must have three successes to win.
17, 11, 7
=Success
=Success
=Fail
"Saint-Fleur!!" Dominilde cries out, this time her voice causing an opponent to flinch. She strides forward and slams the flat of her blade down onto his helm with a crash, and you suppress the urge to wince, knowing from experience how painful a slam to your head could be, in spite of or even because of the hunk of metal it is surrounded by. He falls to the ground, motionless, and Dominilde strides forward. One down. 38 to go.
You have to fight the urge to smirk as your squire makes mincemeat out of her other challengers. The melee is still a confusing mess of a battle, but there are beginning to be standouts amid the den. Not counting your own squire, there is a scrawny-looking Leonese boy fighting with a blunted spear and a taller squire in heavy Gothan plate wielding a sword and shield. The Leonese boy dodges, evades, and counters, similar to Dominilde but without her ferocity. Meanwhile, the Gothan absorbs blow after blow, countering with strikes from his sword and bashes from his shield. Dominilde, meanwhile, is dodging and wearing down her opponents with sheer aggression.
"Oh my. She is a lioness, that one. Could she be northern-blooded?" the man beside you asks. You shrug, as though ignorant of the question, but the man laughs.
"Fine, fine. Keep her secrets. And yours for that matter."
Dominilde only slows down when 15 remain, but that does little to dampen her skill or determination. She is pursing the Leonese spearman who himself has begun to move sluggishly. The two exchange feints and counterblows before Dominilde rushes him and, dodging his spear, slams her body into his, knocking him flat to his back. With her sword held at his neck, he is forced to yield.
Before long, your squire and the Gothan are the only two who remain. Dominilde is breathing heavily, and you can tell she is drenched in sweat. Her decision to fight this way served her well, but you can tell she is exhausted. In comparison, the Gothan squire has exerted himself much less, trusting in his ability to absorb blows and counter with his own when given the opportunity. He does the same now as Dominilde charges at him, her greatsword slamming against his shield.
Over and over again, she attacks, but her opponent remains firm. You know for sure that he is bruised beneath his armor, but Dominilde's blows are weakening. Finally, she makes a critical mistake, her footing becoming less secure in her exhaustion, and the Gothan surges forward, closing the distance between them, making the reach of her greatsword useless. It becomes awkward in her hands as the other squire batters her body with his shield, and unlike her opponent, she lacks the heavy armor to absorb it. She is forced to kneel to the ground and her opponent holds a sword at her neck.
The melee had a clear winner.
The crowd, peasant and highborn alike, erupt in cheers of excitement, and you rise from your seat.
"I thank you for your hospitality, milord. But it seems I have a squire to attend to."
"Of course, my friend. This was a most thrilling spectacle. Your confidence was not misplaced."
He smiles at you.
"Prince Henri de'Chalens of Valois at your service."
[ ] At his words, you drop to your knee and kiss a ring he presents to you, "My Prince." (???)
[ ] You cross your arms, "This whole time? I was sitting by royalty, and I was the only one unknowing of it?!" (???)
[ ] You reaching out to clasp his arm, a traditional greeting between knights. Between equals, "Ser Armand de'Talouse." (???)
[ ] You can't help it. You laugh in sheer surprise at the situation as well as your own ignorance. You kneel, "Ser Armand, sire." (???)
[ ] -Write-In
The Tourney Part 3
You are ashamed of the way your eyes roam her clerical vestments and rest on her innocent face. You bow your head.
"Thank you, Sister. May I have your blessing?"
Evelyn smiles softly and places a soft hand on your brow.
"May the Brother grant you strength in your arms, and may the Sister grant you gentleness. May you be a shield of the just, and the scourge of the wicked. May the Two grant you power and might, and the wisdom to know how to use them. So let it be."
(+Piety, Trait Gained: The Beginning of Restraint: Armand now has two chances to pass a Self-Control Roll)
***
"Of course, my friend. This was a most thrilling spectacle. Your confidence was not misplaced. Prince Henri de'Chalens of Valois at your service."
You can't help it. You laugh in sheer surprise at the situation as well as your own ignorance. All this time, King Pepin's second-born had been making small talk with you like a baker at the market, and you were blissfully unaware. No wonder his entourage was staring daggers at you the whole time. With no excuse for continued impropriety, you kneel as the prince himself sports an amused grin.
"Ser Armand, sire. Of the House of Talhouse."
"De'Talhouse?" he asks, somewhat surprised, "You are not the son of Charles de'Talouse are you?"
"Oui, sire. I have inherited his arms and have joined the cause."
The prince nods, "That is good. The old Comte de'Randamie spoke at length of your father's skill in battle when he visited the capital. This, cause, this, crusade, will need knights of his caliber."
"That much is certain, sire. I will honor my father's blood," you respond, rising with a bow as you take your leave, struggling not to lose yourself in your thoughts. When your father banished you from your home, he had looked upon you with such shame and disgust, you had wished to be engulfed in the bowels of the earth. Yet, your father had given you an inheritance, the means to continue serving honorably, albeit as a masterless hedge knight. And you know not what rumors have followed you, but your father kept it quiet, whether for his own honor or his and your sister's, you knew not. Yet, his name and accomplishments serve you.
(+Relationship with Prince Henri de'Chalens; Trait Gained: The Gods Have a Sense of Humor- When meeting the unexpected, you tend to respond with wry amusement. +1 Diplomacy)
You find your Squire being tended to a few tents away from the tourney field. The old monk scolds her gently.
"Milady should stay still. If not for her own health then sympathy for poor Osmund who has many, more scratched and bruised lads to look after."
"Then Brother Osmund should attend to them rather than the few bruises I have. By the Brother, I don't have a single cut. The bricon bashed me at a moment's weakness and forced a yield," Dominilde says sourly.
"Milady comes in second at a melee with barely a scratch, and she still complains," you note in amusement. Having finished with his work, the monk leaves with a bow. You eye your squire's body. Yes, she is bruised, and you can see they were treated with bandages and salve, but otherwise, she seems her normal self. You feel yourself relax in relief. Good.
"Normally, a squire would ask her master's permission before entering a melee."
"Oui, but I recall you saying the day was mine as I saw fit," she responds. You look at her, and she presents a bag of gold. You raise an eyebrow.
"I won 10 gold sovereigns, milord. As is customary of a loyal squire, I present it to you... Though, I wish I had the 30 that was to be the winner's."
[ ] "You fought well and honorably, Dominilde. In this war, I believe you will be knighted, and by a far more honorable man than myself." (??)
[ ] "You were reckless and deliberately took advantage of my lax words. I will expect my armor shined twice a day. " (??)
[ ] "Well, you seemed to have impressed the Prince of Valois. The two of us had quite a conversation about your performance," you tell her with a wide smirk. Oh, yes. You will enjoy dangling that information over her head for the next few days. An appropriate recompense for her actions (??)
[ ] "I'd have given you permission if you had asked. You have learned everything you need to know about fighting. We will see how you faire when it's time to kill or be killed."
[ ] You stroke your chin thoughtfully, "You were smart to use your speed and reach in this tournament, but your fatigue felled you. Remember this when we fight. What works in a show doesn't always work in battle."
[ ] -Write-In
You handle the coins thoughtfully, considering how to distribute the winnings. 10 sovereigns was nothing to sneeze at.
[ ] You take all 10 as is your right.
[ ] You take half and give her half as her rightful winnings.
[ ] You take two and let her have the rest.
[ ] You hand the entire bag back to her. She earned it.
[ ] -Write In
You clasp her shoulder.
"Come. We should enjoy these things while we can. War will not indulge us with these frivolities," you tell her with a slight smile as you usher her out of the tent. The smell of roasted pig and fowl fills the air as you tour the tents. You know a melee, tourney, and an archery contest will be conducted later in the day. However, you have no skill with the bow and no horse, and a knight's horse cost about 15 sovereigns if you want something that can handle the weight of your armor. Still, the melee is open for you. You scowl. The winnings from that is tempting, but you have a distaste for such things. It made a mockery of everything you knew about battle.
"You should compete," Dominilde presses you, as if sensing your thoughts, "You taught me everything I knew, and I was just hair's breadth away from winning. You can beat anyone here."
You are not sure about that, but you pat your squire's shoulder in acknowledgement of her confidence in you. Deciding you need a drink, you make your way to an area where you can hear raucous laughter and, sure enough, a makeshift tavern had been set up beneath a huge, over-arching tent. It seems that a local pubmaster had decided to ply his trade where he knew thirsty men with coin were bound to frequent, and you can see men in rich velvet, fur, and silk mixing with men in armor. In the corner, you spot a richly dressed man cajoling an older knight, cards and coins stacked haphazardly on the table between them. Beside him stood a familiar face... The Gothan that beat your squire. Beside you, Dominilde stiffens.
"Prince Ulrich, you must see the benefit in taking my offer. You have no boats. Your retinue consists of a few greying veterans and one boy," he gestures over at the squire, "Taking command of my contribution to this crusade will see you go much farther than slaving away under the command of lesser men."
"Ja, you make an excellent point, Enrico da Ferraro. You gift me with all the wisdom of this world, but I am not concerned with this world. Not anymore. My heart is restless for the next."
Enrico da Ferraro scoffs as he gathers his cards, "Not this world but the next, as if they weren't connected. I have sunk much into this endeavor, but fanatics like Ser Payne slander my name, and the Exalted Pontiff does nothing. I have half a mind of withdrawing my money and ships."
"Yet, you do not. Your interests in the east and Akhaioi are well-known, my friend. I am sorry, but I must devote myself to the cause of the Two. In all my years, I have seen money corrupt the noblest of causes," Ulrich tells him.
"As you say Prince Ulrich," Enrico grumbles, "Prince.. Of what? Of vanity and no lands. I will find myself a champion. Don't you worry."
You watch the whole exchange end in a manner of moment, the old knight going with his squire to drink in the corner, and the old merchant continuing to grumble. You stroke your chin. Enrico da Ferraro, that was the man Ser Payne complained about in the Reliquary was it not? And a Voran Prince... As disunited as the Kingdom of Gothan was, he was most likely more on the level of a Valoisan Duke, but this was interesting.
You decide to take a seat...
[ ] Across from Enrico. Perhaps he'd be open to conversation over a little more gambling.
[ ] Beside Prince Ulrich. You came here for a beer, and you will have a beer. And he's worth talking to despite his squire's discomfort around the boy who beat her.
[ ] Alone. You just want to drink in peace.
A/N. And we're finally posted. I got some subplots planned out, and am eager to see this tale unfold.
"Thank you, Sister. May I have your blessing?"
Evelyn smiles softly and places a soft hand on your brow.
"May the Brother grant you strength in your arms, and may the Sister grant you gentleness. May you be a shield of the just, and the scourge of the wicked. May the Two grant you power and might, and the wisdom to know how to use them. So let it be."
(+Piety, Trait Gained: The Beginning of Restraint: Armand now has two chances to pass a Self-Control Roll)
***
"Of course, my friend. This was a most thrilling spectacle. Your confidence was not misplaced. Prince Henri de'Chalens of Valois at your service."
You can't help it. You laugh in sheer surprise at the situation as well as your own ignorance. All this time, King Pepin's second-born had been making small talk with you like a baker at the market, and you were blissfully unaware. No wonder his entourage was staring daggers at you the whole time. With no excuse for continued impropriety, you kneel as the prince himself sports an amused grin.
"Ser Armand, sire. Of the House of Talhouse."
"De'Talhouse?" he asks, somewhat surprised, "You are not the son of Charles de'Talouse are you?"
"Oui, sire. I have inherited his arms and have joined the cause."
The prince nods, "That is good. The old Comte de'Randamie spoke at length of your father's skill in battle when he visited the capital. This, cause, this, crusade, will need knights of his caliber."
"That much is certain, sire. I will honor my father's blood," you respond, rising with a bow as you take your leave, struggling not to lose yourself in your thoughts. When your father banished you from your home, he had looked upon you with such shame and disgust, you had wished to be engulfed in the bowels of the earth. Yet, your father had given you an inheritance, the means to continue serving honorably, albeit as a masterless hedge knight. And you know not what rumors have followed you, but your father kept it quiet, whether for his own honor or his and your sister's, you knew not. Yet, his name and accomplishments serve you.
(+Relationship with Prince Henri de'Chalens; Trait Gained: The Gods Have a Sense of Humor- When meeting the unexpected, you tend to respond with wry amusement. +1 Diplomacy)
You find your Squire being tended to a few tents away from the tourney field. The old monk scolds her gently.
"Milady should stay still. If not for her own health then sympathy for poor Osmund who has many, more scratched and bruised lads to look after."
"Then Brother Osmund should attend to them rather than the few bruises I have. By the Brother, I don't have a single cut. The bricon bashed me at a moment's weakness and forced a yield," Dominilde says sourly.
"Milady comes in second at a melee with barely a scratch, and she still complains," you note in amusement. Having finished with his work, the monk leaves with a bow. You eye your squire's body. Yes, she is bruised, and you can see they were treated with bandages and salve, but otherwise, she seems her normal self. You feel yourself relax in relief. Good.
"Normally, a squire would ask her master's permission before entering a melee."
"Oui, but I recall you saying the day was mine as I saw fit," she responds. You look at her, and she presents a bag of gold. You raise an eyebrow.
"I won 10 gold sovereigns, milord. As is customary of a loyal squire, I present it to you... Though, I wish I had the 30 that was to be the winner's."
[ ] "You fought well and honorably, Dominilde. In this war, I believe you will be knighted, and by a far more honorable man than myself." (??)
[ ] "You were reckless and deliberately took advantage of my lax words. I will expect my armor shined twice a day. " (??)
[ ] "Well, you seemed to have impressed the Prince of Valois. The two of us had quite a conversation about your performance," you tell her with a wide smirk. Oh, yes. You will enjoy dangling that information over her head for the next few days. An appropriate recompense for her actions (??)
[ ] "I'd have given you permission if you had asked. You have learned everything you need to know about fighting. We will see how you faire when it's time to kill or be killed."
[ ] You stroke your chin thoughtfully, "You were smart to use your speed and reach in this tournament, but your fatigue felled you. Remember this when we fight. What works in a show doesn't always work in battle."
[ ] -Write-In
You handle the coins thoughtfully, considering how to distribute the winnings. 10 sovereigns was nothing to sneeze at.
[ ] You take all 10 as is your right.
[ ] You take half and give her half as her rightful winnings.
[ ] You take two and let her have the rest.
[ ] You hand the entire bag back to her. She earned it.
[ ] -Write In
You clasp her shoulder.
"Come. We should enjoy these things while we can. War will not indulge us with these frivolities," you tell her with a slight smile as you usher her out of the tent. The smell of roasted pig and fowl fills the air as you tour the tents. You know a melee, tourney, and an archery contest will be conducted later in the day. However, you have no skill with the bow and no horse, and a knight's horse cost about 15 sovereigns if you want something that can handle the weight of your armor. Still, the melee is open for you. You scowl. The winnings from that is tempting, but you have a distaste for such things. It made a mockery of everything you knew about battle.
"You should compete," Dominilde presses you, as if sensing your thoughts, "You taught me everything I knew, and I was just hair's breadth away from winning. You can beat anyone here."
You are not sure about that, but you pat your squire's shoulder in acknowledgement of her confidence in you. Deciding you need a drink, you make your way to an area where you can hear raucous laughter and, sure enough, a makeshift tavern had been set up beneath a huge, over-arching tent. It seems that a local pubmaster had decided to ply his trade where he knew thirsty men with coin were bound to frequent, and you can see men in rich velvet, fur, and silk mixing with men in armor. In the corner, you spot a richly dressed man cajoling an older knight, cards and coins stacked haphazardly on the table between them. Beside him stood a familiar face... The Gothan that beat your squire. Beside you, Dominilde stiffens.
"Prince Ulrich, you must see the benefit in taking my offer. You have no boats. Your retinue consists of a few greying veterans and one boy," he gestures over at the squire, "Taking command of my contribution to this crusade will see you go much farther than slaving away under the command of lesser men."
"Ja, you make an excellent point, Enrico da Ferraro. You gift me with all the wisdom of this world, but I am not concerned with this world. Not anymore. My heart is restless for the next."
Enrico da Ferraro scoffs as he gathers his cards, "Not this world but the next, as if they weren't connected. I have sunk much into this endeavor, but fanatics like Ser Payne slander my name, and the Exalted Pontiff does nothing. I have half a mind of withdrawing my money and ships."
"Yet, you do not. Your interests in the east and Akhaioi are well-known, my friend. I am sorry, but I must devote myself to the cause of the Two. In all my years, I have seen money corrupt the noblest of causes," Ulrich tells him.
"As you say Prince Ulrich," Enrico grumbles, "Prince.. Of what? Of vanity and no lands. I will find myself a champion. Don't you worry."
You watch the whole exchange end in a manner of moment, the old knight going with his squire to drink in the corner, and the old merchant continuing to grumble. You stroke your chin. Enrico da Ferraro, that was the man Ser Payne complained about in the Reliquary was it not? And a Voran Prince... As disunited as the Kingdom of Gothan was, he was most likely more on the level of a Valoisan Duke, but this was interesting.
You decide to take a seat...
[ ] Across from Enrico. Perhaps he'd be open to conversation over a little more gambling.
[ ] Beside Prince Ulrich. You came here for a beer, and you will have a beer. And he's worth talking to despite his squire's discomfort around the boy who beat her.
[ ] Alone. You just want to drink in peace.
A/N. And we're finally posted. I got some subplots planned out, and am eager to see this tale unfold.