Age of Ice and Blood: A Pathfinder System Heroic Fantasy Quest

Day One, Year Unknown

Slowly you clench and unclench your hand on the wine cup, unable to bring it to your lips. You should be calling them lairs, you do not know these men and cannot guess their motives, a merchant and a strange scholar from the east. Your father would call them mad to trust them. Your father is not here, he is three years in his grave, leaving you alone to care for... alone with your mother. Well why not? Why the fuck not? The earth is broken and no order is upon it, why should the heavens be any different?

It is only when you see Antonio's eyes light up that you realize you must have said some part of that aloud. "Sky's not that important. Men do not live their lives in the heavens, men like me not even the next one, eh? Merchant with a taste for wine and loose women. If there is any divine judgement to be passed here it's on me, not on you."

He says it so lightly you would almost think it idle, but for the edge of self-deprecation in his words, for that gleam of quiet sympathy. "I would rather that none of us were under any curse," you reply half in clumsy jest and half in earnest.

"I'll drink to that," the captain raises a cup and this time you raise with him. The food actually does help, it offers a sort of visceral comfort.

The day passes uneasily, with every man on board keeping an eye to the sky... but pass it does. The clouds stay soft and wispy, far off lines of white on the horizon. By mid day you have been driven inside your cabin by the heat and the pounding headache of too much wine and there you sleep... and there you dream...


Day Two, Year Unknown

You dream of green hills crowned with stone, some familiar keeps of sharp grey stone rising high into the cloud dotted sky, others older, wrought by the Franks when your people came to these coasts as raiders from the north bearing sword and flame, to kill and to take thralls over the cold waters. A few of them are even of the eldest sort, the fortresses of Rome who ruled in Gaul since before Christ and whose shadow is ever upon land and most of all upon the hearts of princes who who yearn for Empire.

Under your tutors' hand and even more you mother's who first put a goose quill into your hand you had learned much of those days, of the comings and goings of dukes and counts, barons and simple knights who have spilled each others blood to water the bocages. The peasants say thorns in the hedgerows are a mark of were a body has fallen, they are wrong of course, for if that had been the case then they would be all thorn and no leaf to count all the death and heartbreak that this place has seen.

"This is the greatest country in the world, of course men fought and died for it. Sat up and they will fight and die for it again," your father used to say as he sat upon the green hill and motioned to the vineyards in summertime.

It was a lesson you had taken to heart, all that you had, all that your family had gained, by sword, by leal service and by clever alliances could be taken away in an instant. The Frankish lords had not though that the Norsemen would come over the sea to settle, to live in peace and rule in wisdom and yet in time they had and now only the scholar's dusty tomes recall their badges or their mottoes, their great deeds a footnote on the pages of a history that flows ever onward, pages one over the other turned like leaves in autumn rustling

When winter came, your ninth it was, or mayhap tenth, for dreams are not good at keeping track of years you donned for the first time a weighted coat and set aside the wooden weapons for ones of true forged steel, for all that they were dulled to keep fingers still unused to the weight from mischance.

For all that knights are made in war and spurs in glory won those skills which make a knight are honed in simpler times, in cold days when one's thoughts are turned to learning the lesson not for praise but for permission to go inside and warm your hands. You had learned a lot of good curse words then, in French and English and even a few in Sicilian for the Normans had sailed far and conquered widely. But most of all you had learned a knight skills of war, how to ride and how to care for a horse, how to hunt with hound and hawk, how to fight alone and with stout friends at your side and you had learned at last to bear armor and wield weapons to be proud off.


You wake with a start to the sound of raised voices outside though you cannot make out what they are saying. What weapon does your hand reach for? What armor do you don?

10 Points to spend on arms and armor

Knightly Weapon (Cost 1 point each):

[] The Greatsword, a knight's weapon though and through, though one for those impetuous souls who would make due without a shield

[] The Longsword and Shield, tried and true, afoot or ahorse

[] The Light Flail, a weapon most adept in disarming the foe, to capture or to slay

[] The Lance, most chivalrous of weapons

[] The Bec de Corbin, bane of any knight to stand against you

You were in truth fascinated by weapons that were not of the finest knightly tradition (Cost 2 Points Each)

[] Light Crossbow, not chivalrous mayhap but not all wars may be won with chivalry, particularly when one stands upon a parapet no lance is long enough

[] Longbow, a weapon more for hunting than for war in the hands of a knight, but it can serve the latter purpose most deadly in a pinch

Armor:

[] Chain shirt, the simplest and lightest form of armor, even the poorest or most headlong of knights can boast as much (1 Points)

[] Chainmail, respectable protection at the cost of not too much encumbrance (2 Point)

[] Banded Mail, rather cumbersome, but still a life-saver in battle (4 Points)

[] Barding for Silver, rare armor for a rare steed
-[] Light 2 Points
-[] Heavy 4 Points

OOC: These dreams do not give you magic powers, but they do give you weapons and armor, which when one thinks about is is the cavalier equivalent thereof.you guys can propose other things, but they have to fit the time period at least a little.