A Time for Civil War IC

[Executor]

It was a dreary, cool day for summer in Arthia. The wind came down from the north, down from the tossing swells of the Winter Sea, through the highlands and forests of Dunhalton and Loxesly, and then across the cold waters of Loch Argentum, greatest lake in all creation. Finally, it worked it's way up to a small cog on the Loch, where it slipped around the clothes of the crew and brought a bit more chill to their bones. One man, standing at the cog's prow, wrapped his heavy woolen cloak around him a bit tighter to ward off the cold. He was Amalric Robertsson, of the Duchy of Loxesly. He was a tall young man, leanly built, with brue-gray eyes framed by locks of light brown. He was a knight in the service of Lord Gaheris, the youngest son of Gareth, Duke of Loxesly. As the youngest, Gaheris received no inheritance, no land or titles. And so, most often, he was Loxesly's champion at the tournaments. Amalric knew his story well, for he too was the youngest. He remembered well how he had fallen in with the young Loxeslian lord. Amalric smiled as he recalled the tournament, he had been doing well that day, fighting under his own colours, part of no conroi. Gaheris was the one who finally defeated him, and Amalric could not offer ransom, so he offered service instead. Amalric had quickly some to like Gaheris, and the company of men he commanded.

A hand on his shoulder broke Amalric's reverie. It was Roland, another of the conroi's knights and Amalric's good friend. He towered over the younger Amalric, seven feet tall if he was an inch, with a beard that could put an innkeeper to shame and a mouthful of gold and silver teeth, replacing those that had been lost in season after season of tournament. He was flashing those teeth now as he smiled at his young friend.

"Come Amalric, you'll catch your death up here and you're no use to us sick," Roland said, steering him firmly towards the belly of the cog and the other knights who formed Gaheris' company. Besides Amalric and Roland, there was dark-eyed Edmund, a man of slight build and brooding features. Beside him sat Wulf, red of hair and blue of eye, looking like a wolf trapped in a man's body with his ferocious, restless stare in his eyes. Across the narrow boat from Wulf was Thierry, whose surcoat bore the scarlet cross of the Sanctus Order, but he was not one of them. He had turned aside from the path of the warrior-monks, but his gray eyes still had the piercing quality of a priest, damnation and exorcism flashing in them. Coen, the eldest, with his brown hair flecked with much gray, sat next to Thierry, honing the edge of his arming sword. Finally there was Gaheris himself, finely featured, with brown eyes and long black hair. He did not sit, but paced anxiously on the deck of the ship in between his knights. Amalric settled down next to Coen, with Roland on his other side.

"What troubles you, Lordship?" Amalric inquired at his liege. Gaheris continued to pace as he answered.

"Are we going to make Hellebore in time? We've been waylaid for days on the Lake. I must qualify for the Royal Tournament, I'm staking the family's honour on it," the young lord replied.

"You know you shouldn't have made that wager with Count Bedwyr," Thierry said calmly, eyes closed and arms crossed. There were chuckles around the group of knights, they all remembered. It had been a night of great drinking in the Gaheris' father's hall. The Duke of Moryn and his family had come to visit them, relatives of the Duke of Loxesly. Gaheris had come into an argument with Bedwyr, the Duke of Moryn's nephew and Count of Hellebore. They had placed a wager. Whichever one of them earned a place at the Royal Tournament, the one who didn't would owe the winner a great deal of gold and horses. Now the time for qualifying was almost over, and there was just one tournament left for the two feuding lords to qualify. It would be a fight, when they reached Hellebore. Or, every knight thought as a wave crashed over the bow of their small cog, if they reached Hellebore.

[Knaight]

Edward leans up on some piece of rigging, calmly eating some food, hard bread like stuff that is providing a surprising amount of resistance, while scanning the crowd of sailors, looking for someone who might have the time for a chat, or possibly a decent brawl, although he doesn't get his hopes up. He finishes his bread, or whatever it is, and begins casually sharpening his spear, surveying the crowd all the while, and ignoring any sailors who happen to be looking his way when working. He needs practice badly, having had none since he began his time on the ship, as standing had been an issue in and of itself for a day or two. A glint of metal catches his eyes, and Edward notices a mountain of a man, bearded with a metallic glint in his mouth. Edward walks closer, keeping some distance as he subtly sizes the man up. He looks interesting.

[Copper8642]

Borrok could not restrain himself. The ship was moving so slowly. Borrok just wanted to get to Hellebore, where at least he could possibly entertain himself. He even thought about getting himself into the fight somehow. It shouldn't be hard. But after the big tournament, he knew he couldn't joust. It wasn't his style. However, he didn't need to joust, if he cracked enough heads at the tournament....

Borrok wasn't too thrilled about being sent to the tournament just to safeguard the knights of his Duchy. The knights were to busy with other details that they couldn't guard themselves, somehow. Borrok wasn't sure. Maybe if they were attacked somewhere, it just helped to have more people.... but this was a whole shipload of people going to the tournament. Ugh. He at least knew the knights, they weren't actually that bad. True fighters. And they were man enough to admit that in a full brawl, Borrok could beat them. They just had something he didn't. Borrok could really go for beating something right now, actually.

Hmm......

[Blockhead]

The situation aboard the ship was becoming such a bore for many of the crew. Many looked itching for something to do, be it a fight or just... something. It was not surprising, then, that the crew jumped into life with an enthusiatic manner when the lookout cried:

"PIRATES! PORT SIDE, COMING IN FAST!"

You look over the port side and notice a small ship flying the Pirate flag. Being such a small ship, it quickly sidles up to your ship and grappling hooks are thrown onto the deck. The crew rushes to grab weapons and prepairs to fight the scurvy sea dogs. They don't appear to notice they were attacking a vessel full of tournament knights and their entourage, but it's too late to retreat now. They don't look very skilled fighters and aren't wearing any kind of armour, this should be a perfect warm-up.

Spoiler

Show

The pirates are carrying short swords and daggers. They have no armour, except for rags and cloth, which gives them a -3 to armour bonus. They are poor (-2) swordfighters. You are each required to fight two pirates, one after the other. Roll 1d12 (code = [roll] d12 [/roll] without the spaces between) and include your attack skill bonus (+3 if Superb at Swordfighting, attack with a sword... etc). Should you choose to make a ranged attack, you get to attack twice before the pirate you are attacking makes his way over to you and begins his attack. If the pirates roll more than you when you attack them, they successfully dodge your attack and they will begin their attack. You then defend using the same principle, but please include your armour bonus (+2 if great... etc). If the pirate manages to hit you, the difference between your defend score and their attack score will become damage, armour bonus reduces the difference. You can attack with whatever weapon you want and other skills such as strength do not come into play at this point.

[Executor]

As the warning was shouted out, Amalric immediately rose up and hauled his arming sword. He cursed lowly as he realized his mail hauberk was stowed away beneath decks, to protect it from the rusting effect of the air on Loch Argentum. All he had was a quilted gambeson he had been wearing for insulation against the cold. He wrapped his thick woolen cloak around one fist to act as a sort of buckler.

"Close ranks around his Lordship!" Coen yelled, as Gaheris' conroi sprang to their feet, naked blades appearing in clenched fists. Amalric caught sight of the pirate vessel, it was a longship with black sails, its slim build and ranks of oars giving it greater speed than the cog. The longship's deck was swarming with men. There was a rattle of crossbows and the melodic twang of bowstrings as the archers on the fore and aftcastles of the cog began to rain missiles on the pirates. Grappling hooks clattered over the gunnels, and the two ships were pulled together inexorably. Boarding planks were tossed over, and a wave of thin, gangly pirates swarmed onto the crew of the cog. Battle cries and the sounds of clashing weapons filled the air.

"Stay close! Protect Gaheris!" barked Coen, ever the Captain of their company. The knights formed a ring around the young Loxlesian lord, they could not allow the pirates to capture him, for a duke's son would fetch quite the ransom. With a screamed battle cry, one of the pirates charged Amalric with a dagger held high over his head. He stabbed down, but found his weapon stopped by the thick wool of Amalric's makeshift shield. Roaring like a demon, the young knight pushed the dagger away from him, the pirate's eyes widening as he was left open. The razor edge of Amalric's sword rose as he rose up with his entire body, then it came slicing down on the man's shoulder with immense force. Steel pierced cloth, skin, and bone. Amalric cleaved the man from his right shoulder to his left hip, a great gaping wound, entrails hanging, blood pouring. The man was dead before he hit the wooden deck of the cog.

"Come on your whoresons! Hells take you, but you have to deal with me first!" Wulf swore, loud enough that his voice echoing on the vastness of the Loch, all the while spreading execution with a two-handed greatsword, his red hair streaming like a lion's mane.

[pingcode20]

Meanwhile, a ways away (almost entirely on the opposite side, in fact, of the cog), Major Rulate was having a relatively peaceful trip among the train of Lord Ragnal.

Bandits usually didn't bother large and obvious caravans of knights, especially not with prominent colours flown. Even the rebels were unlikely to try and attack - they didn't have enough men to strike at such a large caravan.

"Lord Ragnal, I must again implore you to reconsider - I cannot be away from my men, not when there's a rebellion afoot!"


"Nonsense. You have the rebels under control, yes? Bring this up no more, lest I decide you are among the rebels and have your head lopped off too."

Anton sighed, and focussed on riding his horse again. The evening was cool, and the breeze was refreshing as it swept below his helmet.

"Ah, don't worry 'bout it, cap'n!" came a drawl from behind. It was Gavroche, one of the fresher faces amongst the guard. Only three months ago he was nothing more than a petty thief, dragged in by Anton himself one fine spring evening. "Let the Duke do what he likes, if the rebels make any headway we'll just have to beat them down when we get back!"

Anton smiled. Gavroche could always be counted on to see the bright side of things. He may have had a reputation for ruthlessness, but that didn't mean he had to be a monster.

"Keep it down back there, or I'll have your heads!"

Anton slowed down to move in line with the guards he'd managed to convince the Duke to let him take with him. One of the knights slowed down too, moving up besides Gavroche.

"Don't mind him. Let's just fall back a bit and not bother the Duke."

The knights didn't associate with commoners - they were below their station, and tended to be shunned if seen socialising with those below their rank, even if it wasn't technically dishonourable. Sir Hector was something of an anomaly, and mixed freely with the guard. Understandably, he was talked about a fair bit behind his back. His state was mostly Anton's fault - he was a close friend of Anton's, and served in one of the King's many wars alongside him, back when he was still a Sergeant Major.

"I swear, you'll both get me thrown to the guillotine someday."

[Knaight]

Edward pounds his spear on the side of the deck, yelling orders all the while, extremely obviously, trying to bait any pirates to come around. Fighting one after the other is going to take too long, but if he can get them to surround him, he can climb up the mast, and have them cut down helplessly by the crew as they try to follow him. As the pirates close, he yells another order "All right men. You underwater, climb up onto the boat and light their rum on fire!" A satisfied smirk ends this statement, as he prepares to fight the pirates in any confusion this may cause.

He struggles to keep the smirk up as some idiot sailor jumps underwater, failing to realize that it was all a bluff for sailors that were already underwater, as a sort of reserve troop, then realizes that this may actually work in his advantage. He decides to get in the way and prevent pirates from escaping, to let the lucky plan work. This ought to be entertaining.

[Executor]

A second pirate, with a grizzled beard and rings adorning his nose and ears, now charged Gaheris' cluster of knights, brandishing a sword above his head. The blade was in the Yarcili style, wickedly curved and only sharp on one edge, with a hilt curved in the opposite direction of the blade. Coen's eyes widened as he saw that the pirate was barreling towards a gap between Roland and Amalric, with Gaheris' back towards him. Slamming his own foe against the mast as he ran his sword into the man's chest, Coen turned and yelled out, in a voice that carried over the clashing of weapons and shouts of other men.

"Amalric! Stop him!" Gaheris turned too late, as the Yarcili blade flashed down towards him. Time seemed to slow down as the emerald eyes of the young Loxlesy lord widened. Then, as if out of nowhere, there was a clash of steel against steel and Amalric's arming sword appeared in front of Gaheris' face, parrying the enemy's strike. With a grimace and a wordless snarl, he pushed the sword up and away from his liege lord. The pirate stumbled back, but Amalric advanced relentless, like a brown bear approaching cornered prey. He released the mass of woolen cloak twisted around his fist, and tossed it into the pirate's eyes to obscure his vision. Roaring like a lion once more, he drew back and took the hilt of his sword in both hands. As his cloak settled, and the pirate's eye sight cleared, he swung forward. His blade flashed into the pirate's line of sight, and there was a sickening sound as the blade bit into his neck, cutting throat flesh and blood, and then grating against his spine, which finally stopped the cut. Wrenching his sword free of the unfortunate man's neck, he took it in both hands again and slashed forward. This time he gouged out a bleeding gash in the man's stomach, innards spilling forth. Gurgling in his own blood and grasping at his intestines, the pirate fell to the blood-stained deck.

"By the Power of Heaven," Amalric swore, and made the sign of the labarum over his chest, horrified at what he'd just done. A sick feeling arose from his gut, and sour bile filled his mouth. He collapsed to one knee, propping himself up with his sword. Lurching forward, he vomited up onto the decks of the cog, his stomach bile mixing with the blood of his foe. Averting their eyes, but understanding the young man's sickness, the other knights shuffled around him, so as no pirate would strike their comrade down as he was vulnerable.

"Don't worry, Amalric, you haven't killed much, you're allowed," Coen said, as the young knight tried to stand up again and only threw up more.

[Copper8642]

"YES!!"

Borrok could only feel excitement at the arrival of the pirates. They didn't look to be very skilled at all, so there wouldn't be any challenge at all. Sometimes a challenge was refreshing, right now, Borrok wanted to unleash himself on anything, and the easier, the better.

Borrok's axe found a target in a relatively small man wearing some flashy jewelry, and with a large scimitar. Borrok swiftly charge upon the man, who nearly didn't notice until too late.

"Ugh!"

He ducked and took refuge under his blade as Borrok took a mighty swipe downwards, but the man's blade was nearly pushed back down on himself from the force. He rolled out from under and Borrok began to make another swipe, and stood up, attempting to get into a defensive position. Borrok wasted no time, and quickly swing up at a diagonal, then back at the man sideways, pushing relentlessly forward. The man jumped backwards both times, then lunged forward with his blade. Borrok pulled back with his axe, parried the blow, and used all his force to strike the blade from his hand. As the man tried to run, Borrok fit one massive arm around his neck, pulled him back, and threw him to the ground, where Borrok drove the axe threw his neck. He then rushed to the site where the pirates were boarding, waited for a pirate to climb over the ship's side, and cut him in half. He began to laugh a little as he threw the man's upper body back at the pirates, and turned around, ready for more.

[Knaight]

A pirate charged towards Edward, hell bent on preventing him from issuing more orders. Edward took up a defensive stance, and as the pirate barreled towards him dropped back, put his spear up, then at the last minute swept the man's feet out from under him, rising up in mid air and stabbing him, his spear going through his mouth, and out the back of his head. The pirate dropped his sword, a rough, well worn blade with scars all over it, and as Edward pulled his spear out, the man collapsed to the deck. Edward crushed the mans throat with his boot, and staring straight at another pirate muttered, in a voice barely audible to the pirate "Your turn-" As the pirate turned to face Edward another attacked, and Edward thrust his spear through his head, coming in at the nose and out about two inches above his left ear. Pulling it out, Edward saw the man he threatened getting attacked(going to change this as soon as we find out the details), and continued "-see."

[Executor]

Coughing, Amalric took in deep breaths of the cold Loch air. A small pile of his half-digested breakfast lay at his feet. As his guts finally began to settle, the young knight stood back up and took a look around. The fellow knights of Gaheris' company were blood-stained and battered, with a few minor cuts, but otherwise uninjured. Hewn and cleaved bodies of crew members and pirates were strewn about the deck, the wood was stained with blood and guts. Amalric as a mountain of a man, bloodlust in his eyes, hacked a pirate in half and tossed the upper body back at the other pirates. Another knight ran a man through with a spear and then crushed his throat under his boot. Amalric felt as though he was going to be sick once more, but there was simply nothing left in his stomach. He glanced down at his own blade as he shouldered his way past Edmund. The gleaming steel was stained brown with drying blood. Coen set a hand on his shoulder.

"You're young, you will become used to it," the veteran knight said. Amalric coughed a bit and nodded his head. It was getting used to killing that frightened him.

"That was finely done, I owe you my life," Gaheris said, nodding towards the nearly-beheaded man that Amalric had struck down. Amalric smiled now and nodded his head, acknowledgement from his liege was quite valuable to a knight, it all but ensured that he would be kept in the lord's retinue, not scattered to the wind in the next fighting season.

"Lordship," Amalric answered, simply. Their conroi had come out of the pirate attack unscathed, not a single man lost. They stood in a gaggle in the centre of the cog, watching as the rest of the crew and the tournament knights aboard finished their foes and drove them back to the longship, now casting off from the cog.

((Left the end open for those of you who still need to finish a pirate))

[Copper8642]

Borrok spun around, and lodged his axe neatly in the pirate's spine. He pulled it out, using the momentum to spin around again, and cut off the man's head as he came back around. Borrok spit on the body.

"Wretch!"

This was all Borrok could yell. However, he knew he had to calm down before he began to attack those whom it would be frowned upon to kill. Namely, the rightful passengers of the ship. He looked at the man in front of him with the spear. Borrok only nodded, in acceptance of the pirate with the spear through his face. He looked back at the rest of the crew from Dunhalton, and saw that they were mostly unscathed. The only death was of the youngest man of the guard. An irritating thing, he was no loss. Borrok turned to the man with the spear.

"Erg, is that all of them!?"

[Knaight]

"Seems to be, there might be some on their ship as of yet. There should be an impending explosion there though, so it shouldn't be problematic." Turning away from the big man Edward yells out to the crew "Anybody have some extra rope? I'm going to have to drag some of this-" he gestures at his clothing, and the blood stains on it "through the water for weeks to get it out". He gestures towards the man with the axe. "Anything of yours needing to be dragged through the ocean for a while? I might as well do that, it beats cleaning stains out of the wood."

[Copper8642]

"Why would I do that? These stains are earned. I only get the blood out of my shirt once there's enough to weigh me down! As for an explosion...... I would like to see that. I think I'll watch."

[Knaight]

"Believe me, we are all watching." Edward says. Mentally he curses, he thought the guy looked suspicious, and was planning on at least trying to get a good look at any insignias or something like them inside the shirt. He could have sworn he saw hints at battle rage, and the man was worth paying attention to. "As for your shirt, if your headed to the joust good luck getting in. Blood stains are typically viewed as suspicious". Edward turns back to the pirate ship, waiting for the eminent explosion in silence.

[pingcode20]

Meanwhile...

"...remember, when you throw the banana, aim for the forehead."

"Brilliant, Cap! I'll have to remember that for later."

"Hmm... Yes, I have to admit, it does have its virtues. I'm partial to cauliflowers, though. More surface area."

[Knaight]

Edward doesn't even seem to notice as the enemy ship suddenly spurts fire from the center, and it starts to incinerate. Then in a sudden movement he throws his arm out, and grabs the sailor jumping from the ship. A success, and an impressive success at that. Edward hauls the man aboard, and without so much as a word of thanks, let alone a hearty clap on the back he turns back to the ship and resumes watching. An impressive fire to say the least, although not quite an explosion. And certainly food for thought, he needs to find a way to recruit that sailor, as managing to cause and escape this was quite a feat, and it had the desired effect on morale. He leans forward to better look at the fire, and asks the man with the axe "This interesting enough for you? Its not quite as impressive as I had been expecting."

[Copper8642]

"If the pirates get a good look at it during the inferno, I'm content. A big explosion may be impressive, but that done and over with quickly. Having to watch their own ship burn for an extended time, and watching it waste away, that's pain. Something tells me you had something to do with this flame. I must say, I'm impressed."

With that Borrok put out a massive hand to shake with the other man, and waited for a returned grab.

[Knaight]

Edward finished the gesture, shaking the hand of the big man. "Sir Edward Forger. That fire would have been my fault by the way, although he" He gestures towards the soaking man he pulled out of the water "carried the plan out. And who are you?"

[Blockhead]

(A bow or a handshake will suffice. To speed things up I'll take a direct-er approach to GMing, actually posting what happens that doesn't involve your character, if that's what you'd like?)

[Knaight]

OOC: Yes please, thats what the IC thread is there for.

[Blockhead]

The half a dozen remaining pirates that are aboard your ship watch their flaming, sinking ship with horror. They surrender without any resistance. The sailors take them below decks to the brig and lock them up. A few of the 'younger' and less-experienced sailors are dead or injured, but the majority of the crew has survived with brusies and minor cuts. The afternoon is spent tossing the dead overboard. Your lords question the pirates, but it appears that they had no direct reason for attacking you and obviously regret doing so. No matter, they will fetch a small bounty when you pull into port.

That night a fantastic tail-wind carries you quickly across the sea and by the next afternoon, the cry from the lookout tower is 'LAND HO!'. Landing in the busy port, the sailors begin unloading the cargo and your lords hand over the pirates for a small fortune of 60 gold pieces (10 gold pieces a head). You know what will happen to them. The price for piracy is death, by hanging, most likely carried out tommorow at sunrise. The long journey spent at sea has meant that the tournament is tommorow. Your lords book you lodgings for the night in a fairly lavish inn. The downstairs offers a tavern and a banquet table with servants and cooks to serve you hot food, while upstairs are your rooms. The rooms you are staying in are shared between four people and four single cotton beds are evenly placed along the wall in each room, with little else worthy of mention. The landlady is a well spoken women about middle-aged who often caters for tournament guests and combatents. She does not tolerate bad behaviour, but is willing to sell alcoholic drinks and let you stay up late. Your lords have gone to speak with the king's council personally tonight and will be staying in their estate for the night. They will awake you in the morning for the start of the tournament. You have the night to do what you wish. Should you wish to explore, you may do so, but your lord wants you back by morning and rested for the tournament ceremonies. You also notice workers beginning to put up decorations for the ceremonies and parades that will take place the next morning.

[Executor]

Solid ground underfoot was certainly a nice change after weeks on the shifting deck of a cog. The streets of Hellebore were busy, filled with people, travelers, merchants shouting their wares, even as the sun began to decline in the Heavens. Now that they were off the ship, the full size of Gaheris' tournament company could be properly appreciated, surprising even those within it after being cramped on a boat for so long. There were the seven knights, fourteen shield bearers for the knights, a score of servants and pages of all kinds, and a handful of farriers, grooms, armourers, blacksmiths and even a tailor. The Duke of Loxesly would not have seen his son slink off with just a few men, he had given him a grand tournament company. And horses! Oh they had horses! The finest Dunhalton destriers, Loxesly rouncies and Ragnal palfreys that the Duke could afford. Even the shield-bearers had hackneys of a good quality. Amalric himself had been gifted with a huge bay gelding that had been named Bucephalus. Now he led the horse by the reins through Hellebore's busy streets while Gaheris searched for a tavern.

"Why do you have that castrated fool for a warhorse anyways, Amalric?" asked Wulf, whose on charger was a wild black stallions that Wulf himself could barely control. It suited his personality, the knights of the company agreed.

"Geldings are calmer, they listen to you, they don't go wild in the heat of battle," Amalric answered, as he stroked his horse's nose. Bucephalus nickered appreciatively, he loved to be petted.

"Too damn nice to be a warhorse," Wulf sniffed, while in the rear of the company his black screamed and bucked, sending grooms and pages scattering. Amalric sighed and shook his head, that stallion was a damn menace.

The company stopped as Gaheris finally found an inn. The servants began the process of unloading all the gear and setting up in the inn. Amalric looked up, the sign showed a knight bowing to an elegant noblewoman, while writing underneath it announced the tavern's name: The Knight and Lady.

[Copper8642]

"My name's Borrok. You have my respect for that move."

After awhile, they arrived at land.

"Well, I do like land better than I like sea."

Borrok mumbled this to himself as he escorted Dunhalton's chosen knights through the streets. He knew that causing a ruckus to early in the time he'd be spending there would look badly upon Dunhalton, so for now, he just found the room at the Inn that they had chosen, and decided he could use some sleep.

[Knaight]

"Well then Borrok, it is good to meet you. And I will be seeing you at the tournament." Edward nods, rocks back a little as the boat docks, and walks off, finding out that he is evidently at the same inn. Good, he needed to keep an eye on Borrok.