- Pronouns
- He/Him
An impressive future start, if a bit...odd.
Warhammer Fantasy: Honor is all, Chivalry is all (Bretonnia CK2)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
lancelot
Completely worth it
shouldn't this have a threadmark and be updated to account for various bullshit the murder machine has gotten up to?
Sounds like magic, and he'll be a sacrifice to the Lady, to bad that.
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Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
lancelot
Completely worth it
Also didn't he have something going on where he is buddy buddy with wolves?
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I added him to the front page as part of the Dynasty post, under Phillip.
lancelot
Completely worth it
Huh I'm still catching up but do any of Phil's warrior kids have one of Éclatant's kids as a mount?
Also is a picture needed?
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Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Justine will-- the others have gone to Annick and Teclis.Huh I'm still catching up but do any of Phil's warrior kids have one of Éclatant's kids as a mount?
Also is a picture needed?
Nah. No picture quite fits how he looks, so far as I've found.
Ambition and Virtue
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Ambition and Virtue
The soft, silken covers, pure white, cover you in fine warmth. Your wife, though, is off training, beating a dummy in rage.
Which is why it concerns you when you feel a weight settle on your chest.
Eyes open quick, and you see, on your chest, near vibrating, your son Gauvain. Clad in all greens, eyes wide and stormy gray as his mother, hair your fine blond, he holds a wooden sword in his hands, all seriousness and anger.
"You're getting a bit big to be sitting on me, aren't you?"
"Father, I'm seven today!"
"Your gift is with your mother."
"I'm not here for that!" He seems almost offended, all the grimness a seven year old can muster. "I can be a page, now!"
"Oh. That. Yes, yes you can-- but I don't think we'll be having any guests, do we?"
"I wanted to spar!"
Spar.
Your seven year old son...wants to spar.
"No."
"Please?"
"I have seen off two children to distant lands to protect them, and soon enough another to the Lady. I am not risking you."
You grab your cane, a fine chunk of birch wood-- only to feel surprisingly strong arms latch around your legs. Looking down, you see Gauvain latched onto you, a limpet. "Please?"
Right. Well, this ought to be lovely.
Fortunate, then, that you have the upper dining room. Walking out, scarcely slowed by your son, you move through the stone walls, leaving behind luxurious quarters to grab some breakfast--flaky, still warm croissants, with mountain-berry jam and a small selection of cheeses, chased down with brandy. A long breakfast, at least thirty minutes-- by then, even your son should have given up, no?
--
Thirty minutes later, your leg has fallen asleep. Gauvain is snoring, still wrapped around you. The maids who laid out breakfast are still watching you from the doors, trying hard not to giggle. Your wife, on the other hand, isn't even trying, still laughing from when she entered-- fifteen minutes ago.
"Alright!" Your voice booms through the stone, amplified; and you can see everyone but Annick leap up as you do, even Gauvain flinching, though not letting go-- at this point, you're a bit concerned for him. "I will start your training-- if, and only if, you can manage to block three of my attacks in succession!"
He cheers, finally lets go and you feel blood start rushing back to your leg as he does. He runs down to the courtyard, you slow after him-- it's little as if you want to hit him, after all-- only light taps, then. You get up, almost tripping, your leg still asleep.
--
The courtyard is full of people, again. They've formed a circle, about where Gauvain directed them-- looking in. He's put on leathers, and grabbed a shield and wooden sword.
Strutting past in proper clothes, you grab a small training sword. It steel feels like horses with icy hooves are running up and down the flesh of your leg, but it's not that big a deal.
Annick, still giggling like a school-girl, walks out to act as referee.
And with a whistle, you set out-- slow, of course, rather not fall flat on your face.
You get within a few feet-- and lunge, sword singing, quick.
Apparently, not quick enough though-- wood hits wood as your training blade match up, locked together. Odd- your son is smiling?
"Nicely done."
He leaps back, and you laugh.
And attack again, horizontal, and fast-- but your leg protests.
A minute later, there's the thud of wood on wood.
Wait one second.
Your lash out again, now, moving your all a third and final time at speed, and hear a thud as your leg drags, something twinging as blood flows back in and you hear howling laughter from your wife.
The boy planned it all out.
--
Gauvain Folcard, your son, has begun receiving a Martial Education as a Page in your court! He will go to your camps, ready your armor, and so on-- and in return, he will learn the arts of war.
The soft, silken covers, pure white, cover you in fine warmth. Your wife, though, is off training, beating a dummy in rage.
Which is why it concerns you when you feel a weight settle on your chest.
Eyes open quick, and you see, on your chest, near vibrating, your son Gauvain. Clad in all greens, eyes wide and stormy gray as his mother, hair your fine blond, he holds a wooden sword in his hands, all seriousness and anger.
"You're getting a bit big to be sitting on me, aren't you?"
"Father, I'm seven today!"
"Your gift is with your mother."
"I'm not here for that!" He seems almost offended, all the grimness a seven year old can muster. "I can be a page, now!"
"Oh. That. Yes, yes you can-- but I don't think we'll be having any guests, do we?"
"I wanted to spar!"
Spar.
Your seven year old son...wants to spar.
"No."
"Please?"
"I have seen off two children to distant lands to protect them, and soon enough another to the Lady. I am not risking you."
You grab your cane, a fine chunk of birch wood-- only to feel surprisingly strong arms latch around your legs. Looking down, you see Gauvain latched onto you, a limpet. "Please?"
Right. Well, this ought to be lovely.
Fortunate, then, that you have the upper dining room. Walking out, scarcely slowed by your son, you move through the stone walls, leaving behind luxurious quarters to grab some breakfast--flaky, still warm croissants, with mountain-berry jam and a small selection of cheeses, chased down with brandy. A long breakfast, at least thirty minutes-- by then, even your son should have given up, no?
--
Thirty minutes later, your leg has fallen asleep. Gauvain is snoring, still wrapped around you. The maids who laid out breakfast are still watching you from the doors, trying hard not to giggle. Your wife, on the other hand, isn't even trying, still laughing from when she entered-- fifteen minutes ago.
"Alright!" Your voice booms through the stone, amplified; and you can see everyone but Annick leap up as you do, even Gauvain flinching, though not letting go-- at this point, you're a bit concerned for him. "I will start your training-- if, and only if, you can manage to block three of my attacks in succession!"
He cheers, finally lets go and you feel blood start rushing back to your leg as he does. He runs down to the courtyard, you slow after him-- it's little as if you want to hit him, after all-- only light taps, then. You get up, almost tripping, your leg still asleep.
--
The courtyard is full of people, again. They've formed a circle, about where Gauvain directed them-- looking in. He's put on leathers, and grabbed a shield and wooden sword.
Strutting past in proper clothes, you grab a small training sword. It steel feels like horses with icy hooves are running up and down the flesh of your leg, but it's not that big a deal.
Annick, still giggling like a school-girl, walks out to act as referee.
And with a whistle, you set out-- slow, of course, rather not fall flat on your face.
You get within a few feet-- and lunge, sword singing, quick.
Apparently, not quick enough though-- wood hits wood as your training blade match up, locked together. Odd- your son is smiling?
"Nicely done."
He leaps back, and you laugh.
And attack again, horizontal, and fast-- but your leg protests.
A minute later, there's the thud of wood on wood.
Wait one second.
Your lash out again, now, moving your all a third and final time at speed, and hear a thud as your leg drags, something twinging as blood flows back in and you hear howling laughter from your wife.
The boy planned it all out.
--
Gauvain Folcard, your son, has begun receiving a Martial Education as a Page in your court! He will go to your camps, ready your armor, and so on-- and in return, he will learn the arts of war.
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Honor is All
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Honor is All
You sit in your study, quill sliding over vellum. Bound tomes of ancient heroes, gifts really, fill every mahogany case. Tapestries, worked by the finest artisans, depict in a dozen different styles your great victories-- riding to aid Marienburg; leading the defense of the Rittenburg and killed Malida; leading the great purgation of the Palais des Fleurs; slaughtering the Greenskin Shamans, putting them to the sword; destroying the Crooked Bladez in Manheim.
Your desk sits watching the doors, and their silver knockers. Behind you, yet more cases-- and straight at your back, a fire, great and roaring. Perhaps not safe-- but it gave a very dramatic light.
Soft leather and oak, ancient, rest here. It is home. The smell of old pages, and ink, and hide, mingle with wine and brandy. Five generations of men, many centuries, since the time of Donatien II, had worked here. Journals in scripts no longer legible gave the thoughts of men. Some were good, some evil; some brave, some craven; some wise, some fools.
All Knights.
A place of power.
A soft knocking came at the door.
"Enter."
A bald headed man, clad in black leathers, enters. "Pardon, my lord, but we have the plans."
Alfons. Once the follower of a Witch-Hunter, employed by your mother and now by yourself he worked, ceaselessly, with the Inquisitors of your own land. He has clutched in his hands, soft files filled with letters and plans.
A strategy. Five, so far, the basic plans. "Thank you. Care for a drink?"
"Please, sir." Pulling open the drawer, you fish out a glass and some brandy. You pour him a generous enough amount of the stuff, and he drinks it quick enough. Sits down.
Damn shame to waste the taste of good brandy, but then when has the Empire ever properly appreciated a good drink?
Looking through the files, you find two of particular interest.
The son. Carlicar. Smart, by all reports. A bit chubby. Clearly, well-fed-- or following in his god's footsteps.
The daughter. Mercredi. Smarter. Miserable. Bit of a voyeur, considering she looked in on your son's departure.
Scrawled on the sheets are plans to stop them, to kill them.
You grip them, and with a flourish toss them in the fire.
Alfons' eyes widen like saucers. "My...my lord, what?"
"Honor is All. Chivalry is All."
He is shaking. "But they could return! Decades hence, emboldened."
"Then they will return, decades hence, and I will defeat them; and if not, my sons and my daughters and my nephews and nieces will avenge me, and I will die not having shed a child's blood."
--
Yes. Because the Pure, Chivalrous Knight of Bretonnia was ever going to kill kids.
You sit in your study, quill sliding over vellum. Bound tomes of ancient heroes, gifts really, fill every mahogany case. Tapestries, worked by the finest artisans, depict in a dozen different styles your great victories-- riding to aid Marienburg; leading the defense of the Rittenburg and killed Malida; leading the great purgation of the Palais des Fleurs; slaughtering the Greenskin Shamans, putting them to the sword; destroying the Crooked Bladez in Manheim.
Your desk sits watching the doors, and their silver knockers. Behind you, yet more cases-- and straight at your back, a fire, great and roaring. Perhaps not safe-- but it gave a very dramatic light.
Soft leather and oak, ancient, rest here. It is home. The smell of old pages, and ink, and hide, mingle with wine and brandy. Five generations of men, many centuries, since the time of Donatien II, had worked here. Journals in scripts no longer legible gave the thoughts of men. Some were good, some evil; some brave, some craven; some wise, some fools.
All Knights.
A place of power.
A soft knocking came at the door.
"Enter."
A bald headed man, clad in black leathers, enters. "Pardon, my lord, but we have the plans."
Alfons. Once the follower of a Witch-Hunter, employed by your mother and now by yourself he worked, ceaselessly, with the Inquisitors of your own land. He has clutched in his hands, soft files filled with letters and plans.
A strategy. Five, so far, the basic plans. "Thank you. Care for a drink?"
"Please, sir." Pulling open the drawer, you fish out a glass and some brandy. You pour him a generous enough amount of the stuff, and he drinks it quick enough. Sits down.
Damn shame to waste the taste of good brandy, but then when has the Empire ever properly appreciated a good drink?
Looking through the files, you find two of particular interest.
The son. Carlicar. Smart, by all reports. A bit chubby. Clearly, well-fed-- or following in his god's footsteps.
The daughter. Mercredi. Smarter. Miserable. Bit of a voyeur, considering she looked in on your son's departure.
Scrawled on the sheets are plans to stop them, to kill them.
You grip them, and with a flourish toss them in the fire.
Alfons' eyes widen like saucers. "My...my lord, what?"
"Honor is All. Chivalry is All."
He is shaking. "But they could return! Decades hence, emboldened."
"Then they will return, decades hence, and I will defeat them; and if not, my sons and my daughters and my nephews and nieces will avenge me, and I will die not having shed a child's blood."
--
Yes. Because the Pure, Chivalrous Knight of Bretonnia was ever going to kill kids.
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Seriously? Is he going to spare a newly born beastman as well? Because a human Chaos cultist is just as vile and malevolent as a beastman, they are just better able to hide in society.
King Arthur
The Once and Future King
I stand by this decision. He did good.
Though, considering that, you know, there is a witch hunter in the room who knows about the kids connection to chaos, I'm sort of wondering how far they are going to get before their knocked off behind our backs.
So, um, we found out that this is a giant family with branches all over the Old World, and the other branches of the family worship Chaos as well, and we know where at least some of these households and family member are, right?
So, um, are we going to drop this information about the families worshipping Chaos to the people in charge of all these other cities? Cause it seems a little irresponsible to just leave it.
Though, considering that, you know, there is a witch hunter in the room who knows about the kids connection to chaos, I'm sort of wondering how far they are going to get before their knocked off behind our backs.
I have a question here.
So, um, we found out that this is a giant family with branches all over the Old World, and the other branches of the family worship Chaos as well, and we know where at least some of these households and family member are, right?
So, um, are we going to drop this information about the families worshipping Chaos to the people in charge of all these other cities? Cause it seems a little irresponsible to just leave it.
- Location
- Mountains of Appalachia
Have to second this. Sure the children are bad news, but can they not be redeemed? Especially if they were lured into Chaos-worship versus walking into it willingly with their eyes open?
If you say 'no' and that they have to be killed because they were born bad, that is a very easy slippery slope to fall down. I rather doubt that the Lady would look favorably upon those actions, since a knight is supposed to defend the innocent.
Now, if they willingly and knowingly choose to worship Chaos, then yes, that is a different story and so be it. In that case, they are no longer innocents.
I would assume some letters are to be written to warn our allies.
- Location
- France
Form what I remember at the moment where you make a cult at chaos gods you are damn without possible salvation. Even if you didnt realize this. It's who warhammer is so dark.
- Location
- a
Such is the warhammer world.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The Lady has A Plan.
The Lady always has A Plan.
They will likely make it to Norsca, and...well, it's Norsca. They'd have to try really hard to make it worse.
Consider-- who do you suppose those kids will run and hide with in the first place, as they flee?
Eh. There are...options.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Hate to Double Post, but I need to clear this up:
He was not a Witch Hunter. He used to travel with one, but he was not one.
(Normally this wouldn't be that important, but given that even a Witch-Hunter would walk soft around a whole-ass Duke, you don't need to be that concerned about, like, this dude.
No because Beastmen aren't human.
They're beasts.
It's in the name.
Nieces and Nephews
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Nieces and Nephews
A great many of your nieces and nephews have come of important age and been presented to your court.
Hiltraud Haupt-Anderssen
Born: 1446
Traits:
Brooding (+1 Intrigue)
Willful (+1 Intrigue)
Indolent (+1 Intrigue)
Archnemesis to the Greenskins (+2 Martial, +2 Diplomacy)
Stats:
Martial: 16+2=18
Piety: 12
Diplomacy: 18+2=20
Intrigue: 11+1+1+1=14
Learning:12
Stewardship: 13
Teacher: Markgräfin Maria Von Schwarzstein, nee de Reikland
Parzival Haupt-Anderssen
Born: 1446
Traits:
Genius (+2 All Stats)
Pensive (+1 Piety)
Observant (+1 Piety)
Archnemesis to the Greenskins (+2 Martial, +2 Diplomacy)
Stats:
Martial: 12+2+2=16
Piety: 17+2+1+1=21
Diplomacy: 16+2+2=20
Intrigue: 17+2=19
Learning: 7+2=9
Stewardship: 9+2=11
Teacher: Baron August von Brachland, ne de Reikland
Lohengrin Haupt-Anderssen
Born: 1446
Traits:
Very Touched by Ulgu (???)
Strong (+3 Martial, +1 Diplomacy)
Brooding (+1 Intrigue)
Willful (+1 Intrigue)
Archnemesis to the Greenskins (+2 Martial, +2 Diplomacy)
Stats:
Martial: 16+3+2=21
Piety: 17
Diplomacy: 15+1+2=18
Intrigue: 14+1+1=16
Learning: 5
Stewardship:9
Master: Hrafnáss the Grayness
Philip Huebald Univers (Born 1449)
Strong (+3 Martial, +1 Diplomacy)
Adorable (+1 Diplomacy)
Ambitious (+2 All Stats)
Lisp (-1 Diplomacy)
Stutter (-1 Diplomacy)
Haughty (+1 Martial)
Archnemesis to the Greenskins (+2 Martial, +2 Diplomacy)
Stats:
Martial: 11+3+1+2=17
Piety: 15+2=17
Diplomacy: 20+1+1+2+2-1-1=24
Intrigue: 9+2=10
Learning: 12+2=14
Stewardship: 13+2=15
--
Alright, now just Arthur, Bjorn, Uilliam and Máiri and babies should be all wrapped up until Merovée is married at least.
Probably.
A great many of your nieces and nephews have come of important age and been presented to your court.
Hiltraud Haupt-Anderssen
Born: 1446
Traits:
Brooding (+1 Intrigue)
Willful (+1 Intrigue)
Indolent (+1 Intrigue)
Archnemesis to the Greenskins (+2 Martial, +2 Diplomacy)
Stats:
Martial: 16+2=18
Piety: 12
Diplomacy: 18+2=20
Intrigue: 11+1+1+1=14
Learning:12
Stewardship: 13
Teacher: Markgräfin Maria Von Schwarzstein, nee de Reikland
Parzival Haupt-Anderssen
Born: 1446
Traits:
Genius (+2 All Stats)
Pensive (+1 Piety)
Observant (+1 Piety)
Archnemesis to the Greenskins (+2 Martial, +2 Diplomacy)
Stats:
Martial: 12+2+2=16
Piety: 17+2+1+1=21
Diplomacy: 16+2+2=20
Intrigue: 17+2=19
Learning: 7+2=9
Stewardship: 9+2=11
Teacher: Baron August von Brachland, ne de Reikland
Lohengrin Haupt-Anderssen
Born: 1446
Traits:
Very Touched by Ulgu (???)
Strong (+3 Martial, +1 Diplomacy)
Brooding (+1 Intrigue)
Willful (+1 Intrigue)
Archnemesis to the Greenskins (+2 Martial, +2 Diplomacy)
Stats:
Martial: 16+3+2=21
Piety: 17
Diplomacy: 15+1+2=18
Intrigue: 14+1+1=16
Learning: 5
Stewardship:9
Master: Hrafnáss the Grayness
Philip Huebald Univers (Born 1449)
Strong (+3 Martial, +1 Diplomacy)
Adorable (+1 Diplomacy)
Ambitious (+2 All Stats)
Lisp (-1 Diplomacy)
Stutter (-1 Diplomacy)
Haughty (+1 Martial)
Archnemesis to the Greenskins (+2 Martial, +2 Diplomacy)
Stats:
Martial: 11+3+1+2=17
Piety: 15+2=17
Diplomacy: 20+1+1+2+2-1-1=24
Intrigue: 9+2=10
Learning: 12+2=14
Stewardship: 13+2=15
--
Alright, now just Arthur, Bjorn, Uilliam and Máiri and babies should be all wrapped up until Merovée is married at least.
Probably.
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King Arthur
The Once and Future King
Our kids inheriting this trait will never stop making me smile.
- Location
- USA
Alright I just have one thing to point out
A little bit of discrepancy here
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Fixed.Alright I just have one thing to point out
A little bit of discrepancy here
- Location
- USA
I was more joking about the fact that a genius had such low academic and organizational capabilities
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Ah.
Might I then offer the observation that there are more ways to be a genius than having a Giant Throbbing Nerd Brain?