# The cleansing of Mousillon (Action thread)



## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Right how this going to work. You will each have full control over your knights errant and some control over your father. For example I may ask your father a question and you may of course tell me what your father says or does from the point of view of your knights errant. 

My updates will in general contain a long winded spiel that gives some background to what you are doing. If you wish to write a piece on your reaction to the spiel thats brilliant. If you dont thats fine. I will also give you a specific charactor update which will entail what happens to your character specifically

I hope to make this rp fun and feedback is always appreciated

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The charactor profile of the gallant that I will play and will lead your lance
Name: Arcazon de Vala
Age: 21
Appearance: Tall, a striking figure that resembles more a hero from a tale than a real person. He has brown hair and striking blue eyes whilst his face is almost perfectly heart shaped. His figure is tall and well muscled, yet it is lean muscle and not bulk.He bears huge scar that slashes up his left side the result of an encounter with a boar rider whose spear broke his guard and almost gutted him like a fish
Name of your father: Savon de Vala 
Fathers experience: His father is a grail knight who renounced his realm to his brother.. to be passed on to his son on his elevation to knighthood. He renounced it in order to create and protect a chapel to the lady upon the very edge of athel loren and he bares favour with the fey folk and is permitted to walk amongst them. He has not been seen for 7 years yet his whereabouts are shrouded in rumour since a day 3 years ago. Smoke was seen rising from the chapel and though deserted the day before when the villagers arrived to drive away those that had desecrated it they found a small tribe of beastmen lying dead around the chapel and a small scrap of cloth checked in blue and white (savon's colours).
Name of your town: Facchine
Name of your house: Vala
Insignia of your house: the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background
Name of your horse: Vicente
Colours on the barding of your horse: Blue and white checked
Your armour: Bears no helm and his armour is plain and simple. It is the armour his father bore before him and thus is hardly modern yet it is functional and well cared for. 
Specialisation: Arcazon is stronger with the lance than the sword and specialises in the initial charge. He is an excellent jouster and has placed highly in several tournaments as he has an uncanny aim for the correct part of his opponents shield or his enemies throat.
Hero: An unknown pegasus knight that saved his life after the encounter with the boar rider by pulling him to safety. All he knows is that the knights heraldry is blue and red with a unicorn and a fleur de Lys in black

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As you crest the ridge you catch sight of the shining walls of Quenelles for the second time in your lives. The castle stands tall, a single tower of white stone standing high above the walls that seem to burn in the midday sun. It is the fortress of Quenelles yet though you have seen the shining walls once before, there is a difference. 

Tents bearing the heraldry of many houses spill from its walls, grouped together in clusters of 8 or 9, a sea of multicoloured cloth that spreads at least 800 yards from the city. 

A mile to the east, a second camp sits, a swollen mass of quickly formed sleeping arrangements. Jerkins, spread over sticks and the occassional heavily patched tent. A single look at the two camps shows you the huge numbers the Lord of Quenelles is mustering and thus how seriously this errantry war is being taken.

You realise that if you are to gain renown and become a knight of the realm then this is your best chance and as you ride forward, leaving your peasantry to wait with the tribute whilst you go to register your services with the Lord of Quenelles. 

You ride through the tents and see that they are made up of mainly young teenagers like you and you realise that the mass of tents are the knights errant and a few more experienced knights. The knights of the realm, quest and those that have supped from the grail have taken rooms within the city and suddenly the sheer magnitude of this force becomes apparent. You are forced to compete against every errantry knight in the city to gain renown yet there is no time to linger as you come to the gate in the wall.

A unicorn imprinted upon a blue background sits above the gate next to an icon of the lady. Underneath the pictures words are engraved... The lady blesses the pure of heart.

The gates are opened wide and you step ride through behind your father. Armed guards line the wall above the gate and stand, alongside it like a guard of honour along the long streets that leads to the castle and the tower and you canter down the street which is deserted as those peasantry that did not join the ranks of the guard cower within there houses or work the mills and forges to provide armour and weaponry for the kings men

You pass through several more gates, bowing your head towards the icons of the lady and the words of blessing above each gate..... Rademund the Pure was not named thus for nothing. Finally the gate infront of you is the gate into the castle itself. You dismount, your horses taken by the peasants to be stabled, bowing your head to the final icon and your father straightens you up before you walk into the hall.

The hall is huge and drapes in blue and white hang from the wall interspered with orc heads and sacred relics to show the ties between Quenelles and the fey folk of Athel Loren. Sacred texts are carved into the stone and before you stands a huge oaken table of sung wood, that is used for feasting and councils of war.

A second smaller table had been hastily placed in front of the first and group of knights errant each accompanied by their father to sign there names. Finally you approach the table and...... 

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Each of you will gain a specific update from now though many parts are the same ie copy and pasted. Forgive my laziness but each update is fairly long. 

Jean Girard: You reach the table and find yourself staring into the face of a real live grail knight. He bares the insignia of the grail across his breast and there is an extra clarity and wisdom to his gaze that many knights do not bare. He does not recognize either of you yet he glances to your fathers missing hand and he bows his head in respect

"Sir. I apologise for your loss and I hope the wound no longer pains you."

He raises his head and his gaze is strong and purposeful and as he looks directly into your eyes it is like he is scrying your soul and you remember it is rumoured that grail knights can sense impurity. You obviously stand a little taller nervously meeting his gaze

Will you both be joining the war effort, with the inflow of knights errant we need strong and experienced veterans to lead them? I must ask you for your names and the name of your house and whether you have brought any tribute to the war effort or companies of the peasantry? I apologise for the rush good sires yet time is short and the Lord has decreed we will ride for Artois in three days and the flow of strong young knights coming to join the war grows by day."

Choose if your father intends to ride to war or stay home or whether he has been chosen to help guard the Lords realm in his absence. Your father will most definitely give your name and give the amount of your tribute and the warriors you have brought with you. Realism is key, you wouldnt have brought more than 100 yet your tribute could well be more.

Once your name has been signed the grail knight instructs your father to ensure his peasantry are camped in a certain spot and to go and meet Ruben de Laet( if he is going to war) and Emre de Sus (if he intends to defend the lords realm). He instructs you to go and find the camp of Arcazon de Vala, his heraldry is the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background and gives you vague directions to his tent. He is the gallant that will lead your lance.

You both leave the hall and your father requests that you encamp the peasants before reporting to Arcazon. This is important as it will show the bond you have with your father... will it be a tender goodbye... mere advice or fleeting dismissal. Go, take your horse and rencamp the peasants with haste. This is also important as I wish you to show me how you treat the peasantry by how you encamp them, are they mere surfs to you or do you see them as people.

Once encamped report to Arcazon's tent. It is rather isolated, not in a clump and thus easy to find and you enter to find the knight is not at home. However you hear a small grunt of exertion from outside and you go round the back of the tent to find a tall man with short cropped brown hair and striking blue eyesstripped to the waist working with the sword, slashing at the air as he works the forms. You introduce yourself and he stops introducing yourself and invites you to place your tent and your horse next to him. Ask him any question you will but most important is interacting with the other rp'ers.Other rp'ers may be pitching tents etc when you arrive react to previous posts.

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William: You reach the table and find yourself staring into the face of a real live grail knight. He bares the insignia of the grail across his breast and there is an extra clarity and wisdom to his gaze that many knights do not bare. The grail knight looks at you both and breaks into a smile and stands and you turn to see your fathers beaming face. The knight hurries round the desk and they embrace as brothers. there may be a little banter between them so feel free

Your father sees your questioning awestruck glance and he adds. 

"This is Francis de Gran. He is one of the knights that fought alongside me during the goblin wars and reported to the Lord of Quenelles of the counter attack and thus ensured that Stahl Herz became our town"


The grail knight extends a hand and you take it. Remember this is a grail knight so you would be shitting yourself.. he is the best of the best, blessed by the Lady.

"Your family broke the goblins that day and your father lead them. they desevered to be honoured for there actions."

Your father may riposte.. banter teasing etc may be inserted and is definitely encouraged 

He nods to you
"If you are half as good as your father then you will do well." He looks down at the parchment and adds
"I'm placing you in the lance of Aracazon de Vala. He should keep you straight."

He meets your fathers quick glance
"Yes the son of Savon de Vala and from what I have heard he is well on the way to knighthood. This is the fifth time he has ridden to battle and the first as the head of his company."

Once you have both been signed and he has recorded your tribute and told you where the men of your house must be placed, he arranges to meet your father later that day to catch up and tells him to report to Ruben de Laet to gain his room and orders and be placed within a lance. He instructs you to go and find the camp of Arcazon de Vala, his heraldry is the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background and gives you vague directions to his tent. He is the gallant that will lead your lance.

You both leave the hall and your father requests that you encamp the peasants before reporting to Arcazon. This is important as it will show the bond you have with your father... will it be a tender goodbye... mere advice or fleeting dismissal. Go, take your horse and rencamp the peasants with haste. This is also important as I wish you to show me how you treat the peasantry by how you encamp them, are they mere surfs to you or do you see them as people.

Once encamped report to Arcazon's tent. It is rather isolated, not in a clump and you see a young man working the forms outside. You introduce yourself and he stops introducing yourself and invites you to place your tent and your horse next to him. Ask him any question you will but most important is interacting with the other rp'ers. Other rp'ers may be pitching tents etc when you arrive react to previous posts.

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Guy de Constantin: You reach the table and find yourself staring into the face of a real live grail knight. He bares the insignia of the grail across his breast and there is an extra clarity and wisdom to his gaze that many knights do not bare. 

He looks you both up and down and you see him look approvingly at your physique and you feel a sense of pride.

He asks for both your names and his eyes become focused and he turns to another scroll of Parchment. 

"Vincent the Lord of Quenelles heard of the exploits of yourself and Bastion and requests that you lead and co-ordinate the movements of the knights errant."

The knight smiles and adds

'This was written in the Lord of Quenelles own hand. These knights of the realm have distinguished themselves with superb leadership qualities and thus i request their co-operation in the training of new talented knights. You are of course able to refuse however I advise you don't. It is an honour to be distinguished by the Lord."

Your father has just been honoured and is about to be in command of you. Are you nervous... is he a hard taskmaster?... Your fathers star is rising and it is becoming ever more difficult to match his achievement....does that worry you? Or are you just proud of your valorous father?

The grail knight will send you both on your way wishing you luck and instructing you to go and find the camp of Arcazon de Vala, his heraldry is the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background and gives you vague directions to his tent. He is the gallant that will lead your lance.. Your father as one of the three leaders of the knights errant has had his tent set up in the centre of the camp and is requested to join the Lord of Quenelles himself with the two other captains for a meeting of strategy at midday. Thus as the sun is already high in the sky he is hurried and rushed and requests that you encamp the peasants before reporting to Arcazon. Your goodbye is important as it will show the bond you have with your father... will your parting be a tender goodbye... mere advice or fleeting dismissal. Go, take your horse and rencamp the peasants with haste. This is also important as I wish you to show me how you treat the peasantry by how you encamp them, are they mere surfs to you or do you see them as people.

Then you must find Arcazon and introduce yourself. He too notices the name Constantin and prior to instructing you of where to camp asks you eagerly

"What's your father like. Is he a hard man to please?"

This may well you put you a little on edge as you may well feel he is trying to use you to get to your father.

Yet the knight seems to realise that too and he looks you in the eyes and you can see that they are clear of deception as he says

"I apologise. I should not have been so keen to use you to get to your father. it is just my first time as head of a company and I wish to suceed. if you wish you may not answer for to be manipulative is a stain upon my honour. Forgive me"

Respond to him. He is evidently not lying or trying to deceive you.. and is just as eager to suceed as you are. Though such a thing is not a crime you may well be a little more on your guard.. i dont know just throwing stuff out there.
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Lucas d'Altaville: You reach the table and find yourself staring into the face of a real live grail knight. He bares the insignia of the grail across his breast and there is an extra clarity and wisdom to his gaze that many knights do not bare. He notices the insignia of the messenger upon your shield and his eyes narrow yet he looks into your fathers face and asks hesitantly

"Tancred d'Altaville."

Your father jerks up in surprise 

"The Lord requested your presence as soon as you arrive." you feel a spurt of fear... have you displeased your lord... your father is hardly well known for his valour in battle. 

However the knight laughs at your fathers nervous grin. 

"You have nothing wrong.. that I know of. The Lord has heard of your ability in economics. he desires you to aid him in the costing of this war for though the price is not a problem our Lord prefers to be prepared for problems he may have to face."

Your father starts a smile spreading over his face.... he may say something to the grail knight. Yet before he leaves he turns to you. What he says is important as it will show the bond you have with your father... will it be a tender goodbye... mere advice or fleeting dismissal. Then he hurries out of the hall

This leaves you alone with the grail knight and your nerves kick in yet he gives you a reassuring smile and asks 

"How did your family come by the crest of a messenger?"

Explain it to him and by that time he has signed you up and instructs you to encamp the peasants finding the camp of Arcazon de Vala, his heraldry is the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background and gives you vague directions to his tent. He is the gallant that will lead your lance. 

Go, take your horse and rencamp the peasants with haste. This is also important as I wish you to show me how you treat the peasantry by how you encamp them, are they mere surfs to you or do you see them as people.

Once encamped report to Arcazon's tent. It is rather isolated, not in a clump and you see a young man working the forms outside. You introduce yourself and he stops introducing yourself and invites you to place your tent and your horse next to him. Ask him any question you will but most important is interacting with the other rp'ers. Other rp'ers may be pitching tents etc when you arrive react to previous posts.
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Denelias d'Seimera: You reach the table and find yourself staring into the face of a real live grail knight. He bares the insignia of the grail across his breast and there is an extra clarity and wisdom to his gaze that many knights do not bare. 

He asks if you both intend to sign up failing to notice your fathers crippled arm. Your father obviously objects and the grail knights asks how the arm was crippled. Explain it to him in detail.

The grail knight listens carefully to the tale and adds

"Well you have a fine son to make up for it sir. However the Lord of Quenelles is requesting for experienced knights to defend his keep whilst he leaves for war. if you do not wish to ride with us you may put your experience to good use"

Your father will riposte. Once your name has been signed the grail knight instructs your father to ensure his peasantry are camped in a certain spot and to go and meet Ruben de Laet( if he is going to war) and Emre de Sus (if he intends to defend the lords realm). He instructs you to go and find the camp of Arcazon de Vala, his heraldry is the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background and gives you vague directions to his tent. He is the gallant that will lead your lance.

You both leave the hall and your father requests that you encamp the peasants before reporting to Arcazon. This is important as it will show the bond you have with your father... will it be a tender goodbye... mere advice or fleeting dismissal. Go, take your horse and rencamp the peasants with haste. This is also important as I wish you to show me how you treat the peasantry by how you encamp them, are they mere surfs to you or do you see them as people.

Once encamped report to Arcazon's tent. It is rather isolated, not in a clump and thus easy to find and you enter to find the knight is not at home. However you hear a small grunt of exertion from outside and you go round the back of the tent to find a tall man with short cropped brown hair and striking blue eyesstripped to the waist working with the sword, slashing at the air as he works the forms. You introduce yourself and he stops introducing yourself and invites you to place your tent and your horse next to him. Ask him any question you will but most important is interacting with the other rp'ers.Other rp'ers may be pitching tents etc when you arrive react to previous posts.

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Asmodeus D'aerthe:You reach the table and find yourself staring into the face of a real live grail knight. He bares the insignia of the grail across his breast and there is an extra clarity and wisdom to his gaze that many knights do not bare. 

Yet as the grail knight opens his mouth to speak there is a tremendous cheering from the street and you all turn to see the moment you have been dreaming off. Lord Castellan strides through the hall eyes burning in all his glory. Describe him as you will in his god like form and his eyes seem to burn through you as he nods to the knight behind the desk before striding off towards his room

You father is the first to recover and he asks the grail knight about the numbers that have arrived and the grail knight looks wearily at his parchment

"11 Knights blessed by the lady, 46 questing knights, 134 knights of the realm and 316 knights errant yet more come every day. This errantry war is personal to every Bretton. It is along time since I have seen the land mustered like this... it is a glorious sight is it not?"

Respond to him with either father or son. have a conversation with him... about the war... about mousillon. The grail knights eyes seeme to pierce your soul and you can tell that he is curious about you

Once you have both been signed and he has recorded your tribute and told you where the men of your house must be placed, he arranges to meet your father later that day to catch up and tells him to report to Ruben de Laet to gain his room and orders and be placed within a lance. He instructs you to go and find the camp of Arcazon de Vala, his heraldry is the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background and gives you vague directions to his tent. He is the gallant that will lead your lance.

You both turn to leave the hall yet as you do the grail knight calls out

"Their are other 300 knights here all looking to impress. what makes you different boy?"

Respond to him and then leave.

Your father requests that you encamp the peasants before reporting to Arcazon. This is important as it will show the bond you have with your father... will it be a tender goodbye... mere advice or fleeting dismissal. Go, take your horse and rencamp the peasants with haste. This is also important as I wish you to show me how you treat the peasantry by how you encamp them, are they mere surfs to you or do you see them as people.

Once encamped report to Arcazon's tent. It is rather isolated, not in a clump and you see a young man working the forms outside. You introduce yourself and he stops introducing yourself and invites you to place your tent and your horse next to him. Ask him any question you will but most important is interacting with the other rp'ers. Other rp'ers may be pitching tents etc when you arrive react to previous posts.

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Bors: (Sorry for the boring update better one next time) You reach the table and find yourself staring into the face of a real live grail knight. He bares the insignia of the grail across his breast and there is an extra clarity and wisdom to his gaze that many knights do not bare. 

He looks at your father and takes in his good looks and toned body and then his gaze falls upon you. His eyebrows raise as he takes in your dark skin and corpulent frame

"Are you from Quenelles?'

Tell him of your descent and your mothers background and he looks a little surprised yet he signs you up anyway

Once your name has been signed the grail knight instructs your father to ensure his peasantry are camped in a certain spot and to go and meet Ruben de Laet( if he is going to war) and Emre de Sus (if he intends to defend the lords realm). He instructs you to go and find the camp of Arcazon de Vala, his heraldry is the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background and gives you vague directions to his tent. He is the gallant that will lead your lance.

You both leave the hall and your father requests that you encamp the peasants before reporting to Arcazon. This is important as it will show the bond you have with your father... will it be a tender goodbye... mere advice or fleeting dismissal. Go, take your horse and rencamp the peasants with haste. This is also important as I wish you to show me how you treat the peasantry by how you encamp them, are they mere surfs to you or do you see them as people.

Once encamped report to Arcazon's tent. It is rather isolated, not in a clump and thus easy to find and you enter to find the knight is not at home. However you hear a small grunt of exertion from outside and you go round the back of the tent to find a tall man with short cropped brown hair and striking blue eyesstripped to the waist working with the sword, slashing at the air as he works the forms. You introduce yourself and he stops introducing yourself and invites you to place your tent and your horse next to him. Ask him any question you will but most important is interacting with the other rp'ers.Other rp'ers may be pitching tents etc when you arrive react to previous posts.
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Robert de Paris:You reach the table and find yourself staring into the face of a real live grail knight. He bares the insignia of the grail across his breast and there is an extra clarity and wisdom to his gaze that many knights do not bare. 

He asks your names and your tribute and numbers. Answer him yet as he writes it down a knight rushes down the stairs and passes the grail knight a scroll of parchment that makes his eyes light up in excitement

"The Lord of Quenelles is holding an all day tournament tomorrow. There are two events that may be entered by all knights... jousting and sword play."

He turns to you and mutters

"Good job you arrived when you did. Will you be entering?" he asks

Answer him and sign up for one of the events and your father if he is willing.

Once your name has been signed the grail knight instructs your father to ensure his peasantry are camped in a certain spot and to go and meet Ruben de Laet( if he is going to war) and Emre de Sus (if he intends to defend the lords realm). He instructs you to go and find the camp of Arcazon de Vala, his heraldry is the unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background and gives you vague directions to his tent. He is the gallant that will lead your lance.

You both leave the hall and your father requests that you encamp the peasants before reporting to Arcazon. This is important as it will show the bond you have with your father... will it be a tender goodbye... mere advice or fleeting dismissal. Go, take your horse and rencamp the peasants with haste. This is also important as I wish you to show me how you treat the peasantry by how you encamp them, are they mere surfs to you or do you see them as people. You are also eager to spread the news of the tournament to the other members of the lance

Once encamped report to Arcazon's tent. It is rather isolated, not in a clump and thus easy to find and you enter to find the knight is not at home. However you hear a small grunt of exertion from outside and you go round the back of the tent to find a tall man with short cropped brown hair and striking blue eyesstripped to the waist working with the sword, slashing at the air as he works the forms. You introduce yourself and he stops introducing yourself and invites you to place your tent and your horse next to him. Ask him any question you will but most important is interacting with the other rp'ers.Other rp'ers may be pitching tents etc when you arrive react to previous posts.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias stared at the grail knight as he asked if his father and him would both be joining the march. He obviously hadn't noticed his fathers arm, although Denelias would've thought that a grail knight would have been more observant, he shrugged and let it pass, the grail knight was probably hard pressed with the grouping of some many knights. As he listened to his father explanation "When i was in th beastmen wars i was in the reserves of the knights, deploying to where I was needed most so i didn't have much time for resting in between battles, we came in to defend the left flank for a beastmen tribe, we thought it was only a small tribe so only a small task force was sent to defend the flank. It turned out to be the one of the biggest tribes in the battle, over 250 beastmen strong, there was only 20 or so of us but we couldn't leave the flank undefended, so we stood and fought against them. We managed to hold them off until reinforcements arrived, but we had lost 13 of our men and 4 of us were heavily wounded, myself included." Denelias looked around the room taking in all the wonderful sights. when his name was finally written down his father told him to go supervise the encampment of the peasants, while he went to go see Emre de Sus, Denelias though this was a bit dismissive but he decided to obey his fathers wishes and do his bidding. 

As Denelias neared the peasants he saw3 his peasant friend Cameron helping move some food into a wagon, he walked up "Cameron my father has sent me to help with the encampment, we are to set up in the North-east corner of the field, will you need any help or can i go on my way" Denelias smiled. "No we will be fine here Denelias you go do what you should be doing instead of helping us." Cameron stated with a hard face, except Denelias could see the twinkle in his eye. "fine" muttered Denelias, and walked off to find Arcazon's tent.

When Denelias found Arcazon's tent, he looked inside and called out "hello? Anyone here?" when nobody answered, he started walking around the tent, and when he got to the back he saw a man stripped to the waist, working on a complex parry and blow. He called out "hello is your name Arcazon?" without waiting for a reply he said "my name is Denelias D' Seimera and i am supposed to join your unit". when the man turned around he said "yes that is my name, if you are joining my unit, just go set up your tent somewhere around here." He then gestured in the vague direction of his tent. Denlias went and tied up his horse Senneifeir and started pitching his tent.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William was amazed as he and his father made their way to the Lord Quenelles' castle. The show of martial might was far beyond anything he had ever seen or heard of and he was stunned silent as he gazed at his surroundings. After they had reached the final gate into the castle their horses were taken from them and William's father put a meaty arm around his shoulder,* "Closing your mouth might be a good idea before we enter."* William closed his mouth and nodded at his father as they strode through the opening gates and into a hall that was seemingly endless with a large table and banners and drapes hanging from the ceiling and walls.

William and his father made their way to the small table that had been set up to sign the knights in and just as William was about to state his name after working up the courage to speak to the magnificent Grail Knight behind the table he did the last thing he expected. The knight broke into a smile and William looked at his father who's face was also beaming, the two embraced each other laughing and William simply stood there stupified and unable to do anything but stand and watch.

*"Wilhelm of all the people who would be here I did not expect to see you here so late."* said the Knight. His father laughed, *"Oh come now Francis we both know that this army would not have gone to war without a group of Tolles in their ranks."* The two of them laughed heartily and the other knights errant in the room stared at this display wondering what was happening, a few faces showed a hint of jealousy that this new family would know such an amazing warrior as a Grail Knight.

William's father saw the look on his dumbfounded face and introduced the knight, *"This is Francis de Gran. He is one of the knights that fought alongside me during the goblin wars and reported to the Lord of Quenelles of the counter attack and thus ensured that Stahl Herz became our town".* De Gran smiled, *"Your family broke the goblins that day and your father lead them. They deserved to be honoured for their actions."* Wilhelm gripped his friend's shoulder, *"And if it were not for you watching my back I would have been killed."* De Gran nodded solemnly, *"Aye I am sure that your son knows by now that someone always has to be watching your big arse." * They both laughed at the joke and it only served to stupify William more.

De Gran held out his hand and William took it, the honor to be recognized by such an individual and to know the fact that he was apparently good friends with his father was so overwhelming he couldn't think of anything to say so he just nodded. De Gran's grip was amazingly strong yet it was also strangely gentle and as they stared into each other's eyes he felt as if the Grail Knight was sizing him up, both his body and mind. 

When they let go he realized he hadn't been breathing at all the whole time and took a deep breath seeing the smile on his father's face, De Gran nodded at him, *"If you are half as good as your father then you will do well." *He looked down at the parchment on the table, *"I'm placing you in the lance of Aracazon de Vala. He should keep you straight."* His father's quick glance was met by De Gran's, *"Yes the son of Savon de Vala and from what I have heard he is well on the way to knighthood. This is the fifth time he has ridden to battle and the first as the head of his company."*

After his father and De Gran made plans to meet up later and catch up on things and the two of them had recorded their tribute and the numbers they brought they made their way back out into the city. William simply stared at his father who looked at him questioningly, *"What?"* Finally William's excitement that had been building up came flooding out, *"You never told me one of your best friends was a Grail Knight! I can not believe it! My own father, and a Grail Knight....friends! I mean I understand other knights and lords and people like that but a GRAIL KNIGHT!"* His father chuckled at his outburst as William paced about from his excitement.

*"What I'm not allowed to have interesting friends?"* said his father. William turned throwing his hands up, *"NO! I mean yes, but a warning would have been nice so I could have said something and not looked like a fool. Besides,"* he moved to his father's side and slapped his belly,* "It's hard to imagine you moving fast."* His father frowned before they both laughed, *"Go, I need you to help the peasants set up and then get to your camp."* William nodded and they hugged before his father became very serious, *"Remember everything you have been taught and you will do an excellent job, I hope to hear of your exploits." * William smiled, *"I will father, and you only hope that my own exploits will not outmatch yours."* They smiled at each other and as William rode away toward where their peasants were setting up his father sat upon his horse and watched his only son ride away until he couldn't see him anymore. He turned and spurred his horse away toward the camp where he was to report.

------------------------------

William reached the camp and smiled as he realized all of the tents were already pitched, *"Well I guess my help is not needed then."* a peasant chuckled, *"Definately not young sir."* William got back on Seig, *"You do us proud friends, may the Lady watch over you."* the peasants that were outside cheered at him as they raised whatever they had in their hands toward him and he rode off to where De Vala's tent was positioned.

When he arrived he saw another errant setting up his tent and he walked into De Vala's tent looking for him but he wasn't there. Scratching his head he went around back and found the knight practicing and introduced himself, *"Lord, I am William Tolle, son of Wilhelm from Stahl Herz." * The two of them shook hands and De Vala pointed to where he could set up his tent before going back to his practice.

William tied up Seig and began pitching his tent with huffs of effort and by the time he was done he had worked up a good sweat having taken everything from his armor and Seig's to the whole tent and moving them about. He placed Seig's armor inside so that his horse could relax and made his way to the other errant that was pitching his tent and held out his hand, *"Greetings, I am William Tolle, son of Wilhelm, from Stahl Herz. Who might you be?"*


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias was putting his gear in his tent when he heard a voice say "Greetings, I am William Tolle, son of Wilhelm, from Stahl Herz. Who might you be?" He turned around to see a Tall, Tough looking Boy with blue eyes about the same age as him. he took the proffered hand and shook it saying "I am Denelias d'Seimera, son of Laserizan d'Seimera from the house of Delantore."

He then turned around and continued putting his gear in his tent.


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Turning to his son, as he was leaving, Tancred caught his youngest son's eye. "Determine what specific goal you want to achieve. Then dedicate yourself to its attainment with unswerving singleness of purpose, the trenchant zeal of a crusader. Enter every activity without giving mental recognition to the possibility of defeat. Concentrate on your strengths, instead of your weaknesses... on your powers, instead of your problems. Whatever you vividly imagine, ardently desire, sincerely believe, and enthusiastically act upon must inevitably come to pass. Plan your progress carefully; hour-by hour, day-by-day, month-by-month. Organized activity and maintained enthusiasm are the wellsprings of your power. Listen to these teachings, and abide by them, and you will go far, my son. I leave you now, for the service of our lord. You are your own destiny. Make our family worthy of such recognition! For Quenelles and the King! For the Breton and the Lady! For we shall fear no evil."

Lucas looked up. His father, mounted still upon his steed, was moved, but no parting, perhaps for the last time, would bring tears to his eyes. For all the things Tancred wished to say, that look said it all. No last emotional words, no teary goodbyes, or drawn out embraces. One look, one piece of advice. And that was it. Lucas held his fathers eye, and stuck out his arm, the brass trinkets catching the light that seemed to come from the Grail Knight. His father did the same - a warriors hold, arm clasping the others elbow. Warriors, to the death.

At that, his father turned his horse. Rather than watch his father leave for the Duke's tent, he busied himself with his equipment. His horses armour was being laid out by the families Men at Arms. He needed something to busy himself, so pulled himself a stool over, and sat down with a wire brush and oil rag to clean his horses Scale mail. Ouragon, the great black Percheron gelding, swished his tail at a fly, his wet eyes staring into his own.

"What do you want?" 

"How did you come by the messenger insignia?" 

The Grail Knight hadn't left with his father, and Lucas nearly fell heavily off his seat with surprise; the stallion shunted his great head round at the source of the voice.

"Family records, lord, say that my father's father was involved in a punitary war against the Jafar. In Araby. He joined, on a quest, to search for the Grail. I do not know of the details, other than that he performed a service for duke of Quenelle's, the current Duke's father, which claimed his life, yet saved his own. In gratitude, we were granted the right to include the winged horse in our Heraldry. I'm the only member to not yet add to my families crest, my brothers and father have provided the rest."

"Indeed? That is an impressive tale. If you come from such fine stock - your father is known, as are several of your brothers - then you are one to keep an out for. I wish you luck, grand-son of the messenger. Now, it's my time to play at being messenger. Your Gallant is de Vala. Arcazon de Vala. He bears a Rampant Unicorn on a Blue and White checked field - you can find him over Yonder."

Lucas nodded his thanks, and turned to his Men at Arms, sweating the sun incessantly beating down on the plains. Used to guarding a high castle on a hill where the wind wipped up a frenzy of dust, the dry sheltered plains were sweltering.

"Gerhardt, we're to find my Troop commander. I shall armour up, and present myself to him. Then, we shall get ourselves some quarters."

Lucas smiled, the grizzled former mercenary just nodded appreciatively, and unpacked the crates from the cart.

- - - - - 

Armoured, and sweating profusely, and with Ouragon slapping his long tail from side to side in annoyance and impatience at his own overheating body, he was beginning to wonder the sense in getting dressed in full war panoply.

His fathers men at arms, his bodyguard detail were fell in formation behind them, and they were suffering as much as he - without the training he had had, and carrying great poleaxes, more than a few red faces could be seen. 

"Fall the men out, Captain. Thank you for your time. I shall leave you to get yourself some sustenance. I'd like to meet you out here though by the mid watch." Seeing the Green and White quartering of their jerkins disappear through the croud, he saw the tent flap open, and a scribe usher him into the tent. Taking a deep breath, he teathered Ouragan, and removed the armour with practised efficiency, despite it taking nearly 5 minutes in all, the tonsured monk's pale skin visibly burning in the time spent outside, and then fetching some water for the warhorse, only then did he proceed inside.

Immediately, Lucas could tell that he had made a mistake somewhere...

OOC: Was going to carry it on, but got a bit long. Be easier for a conversation if you asked me another question Deathy, to break things up.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

Asmodeus was eagerly anticipating the words of the Grail Knight when the room exploded in uproar. He and his Father turned as one to regard what was calling all the commotion, Asmodeus was simply stunned into catatonic silence when he realised who had just entered.

He was, perfect. Lord Castellen Lyonell, Hero of Bretton, Slayer of Chaos. Asmodeus couldn’t move his gaze from the majestic knight; he carried respect and power as a mantle, trailing after him like his regal cloak. He smiled and waved at the cheering crowd, rugged and handsome features catching the light perfectly. 

Asmodeus’ heart nearly stopped as Lord Castellen looked in his direction, the glowing eyes seemed to burn straight through him, staring into his soul. He couldn’t pick out a single emotion from the swirling maelstrom brought on by the Grail Knights regard. Lord Castellen nodded his head towards the Grail Knight behind the desk and made his way swiftly through the hall; Asmodeus’ eyes trailed him until he was completely out of sight.

He was almost startled when he heard his Father speak. ‘So, what of the Knights that have assembled here, what are the numbers?’ 

The Grail Knight regarded his parchment with a tired look in his eyes; clearly he’d been doing this for some time.

‘11 Knights blessed by the lady, 46 questing knights, 134 knights of the realm and 316 knights errant yet more come every day. This errantry war is personal to every Bretton. It is along time since I have seen the land mustered like this... it is a glorious sight is it not?’

Asmodeus saw his Father’s mouth forming a response, but cut across ‘A glorious sight indeed, Mousillon has not only turned its back against this great and proud nation, but also indulges in Evil of the foulest sort. They need to be eradicated, for the honour of the land at the very least.’ There was a fire in his eyes now, seeing his Hero in the flesh had boosted his confidence.

His Father remained silent, though he turned and regarded his son with a look crossed between amusement and pride, a warm smile faintly washing over his features.

Asmodeus caught the leaving shadow of a smile on the Grail Knights face as he turned back to the table, replaced with a thoughtful look. ‘Indeed, you speak the truth young one. The fallen will pay.’ Asmodeus felt a small jolt of pride as the Grail Knight nodded to him before turning to his Father.

The two fell into a discussion about the war, Asmodeus tried to keep up but some of the logistical matters were lost on him. Before long he and his Father were signing up and the tribute being recorded.

‘Search out Arcazon de Vala, he is to be your Gallant. His heraldry is that of a Unicorn rearing on a background of blue and white. Farewells were exchanged between his Father and the Grail Knight, the blessed Knight have Asmodeus another nod before they made their way to leave. As he pushed his chair away and began to move from the hall before the Grail Knight called out to him.

‘There are other 300 knights here all looking to impress. What makes you different boy?’

Asmodeus was slightly taken back by the question, and then turned to face his inquisitor.

‘I won’t fluff my feathers like a peacock by declaring the great deeds I will do, nor will I simply insist that I am destined for something. But I will promise this; when the time for the charge comes, I will be at the head of the lance; I will bring fearless justice on those that have turned from our most noble path and I will emerge victorious.’ He bowed to the Grail Knight before leaving the Hall with his Father.

He immediately felt a great fluttering sensation in his stomach and let out a great gasp of relief. For a moment he thought he’d simply remain staring at the Grail Knight like a dumbstruck buffoon, to stand there speechless would surely have cast a strain upon his honour. Yet somehow that small snippet had come to him, he was thankful to say the least. He thought he’s spoken well, he was adamant he would make a name for himself, yet he wasn’t stained enough by arrogance to go declaring it before Knights of the Lady.

His father stopped them outside the hall and turned to face him ‘And I’m sure you will’ A smile was upon his face ‘I have no doubt you will do me a great honour on the field of battle my son. But please, many young Errant Knights lose their lives by being reckless; I do not want you to make the same mistake.

So this was goodbye, he wasn’t sure what to say. He’d known it was coming, but so soon?

‘You’ll do me and all of Brettonia a great honour my son; know that you have the blessing and love of your father as you go.’

But before he could respond his Father embraced him in a crushing hug. 

‘Be sure to encamp the peasantry before reporting to your Gallant. Good Luck Asmodeus, I love you.’ And with that his Father was gone, lost into the crowd. Had he caught a glistening in his Father’s eyes before he had left…?

‘…I love you to Father…’

-----------------


‘Really sir, there is no need!’

‘Nonsense… Marcus…’ And with another heave the tent pulled itself to an upright position. ‘There, that wasn’t so hard was it?’

‘You do us a great honour by assisting Sir.’

‘Please Marcus, my Father isn’t around to hear you, talk to me like a normal person.’

Asmodeus exchanged a few more words with a couple of the peasants before it was clear they were done. He took Propero’s reigns and led him from the encampment, waving to the peasants as he left.

‘Take care of yourselves!’

As soon as he was lost in the crowd he let out a long whistling breath. He was roasting. He regarded the glittering full plate and not for the first time today thought full battle regalia may not have been the wisest choice. 

He caught sight of Arcazon’s banner flying above a pitched tent. Two Knights Errant as young as he stood talking between tents, and a third had just disappeared inside, his powerful dark stallion left glistening in the heat.

He tethered Propero and began setting up his own tent; it was a thankless task at this temperature. After it was done he moved past the two young knights, nodding as he did so, before following the third into the dark tent. As the sun left him so to did the glittering gleam of his bright full plate.

‘Hail, have you to be assigned to the gallant Arcazon de Vala? Either way I wish you good health, my name is Asmodeus D'aerthe.’ He extended a gauntleted hand as a warm smile crossed his face


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Following his father, Vincent De’Constantin, Guy proudly walks with him towards a man who radiates an aura of clarity. He is, without a doubt, a knight of the grail, one who has succeeded in the quest and allowed to drink from it. He stares first at Vincent, then at Guy; his eyes feeling like they are boring into Guy’s soul with a wisdom far beyond description for the young knight.


After what felt like a lifetime, both Guy and the grail knight break gazes and though Guy would never admit it to anyone, he was likely the one who broke it first. He knight nods his aproval of Guy, and for a moment a sense of pride engulfs him; that is the kind of man he desires to be one day. To be accepted in any small measure means more than most of the praise of his family.


Turning his attention from Guy, the grail knight informs Vincent that the lord of Quenelles has chosen for him, amongst two others, to lead the forces with him. It is an honour to say the least, and Guy almost is unable to keep himself from scoffing at the notion of not accepting when the knight mentions such option. Vincent’s words echo Guy’s feelings on the matter, simply stating that one would need to be a fool to relinquish such an honour, or have been granted an honour of greater importance by the Lady herself. The second half of Vincent’s comments were beyond Guy, but not the grail knight for who they were meant specifically.


As Vincent accepts, Guy tries to hide a slight smile from his face; this will become another valorious deed to add amongst the ones his father has already accomplished. Though Vincent De’Constantin is a hard man, it is to be expected for no noble of Bretonnia can call himself a knight if he is weak enough that he will compromise the dafety of those he is charged to protect. As happy as Guy is for his father though, he also recognizes that this new deed means little in getting in the way of his own desires, it might in fact even be able to help him in aiding him through some of the steps he must make.


Leaving the grail knight to his business, Vincent makes to part ways with Guy, telling him to see to it that the militia and peasants who had gone with them are encamped. Guy tries to hide his displeasure from his father, but Vincent is able to catch the look and quickly slaps a gloved hand across his son’s face, a slight gash of blood trailing from his lip. Vincent reminds Guy that those people are his charges to protect, both from their enemies and from the elements.

Mounting Auguste, Guy rides the horse towards where the militia and peasants are setting themselves up. As he nears many stop what they are doing and kneel down on one leg, bowing their head; all for one who aproaches him. Quickly dismounting from Auguste, Guy nods at the aproaching warden of the peasants and militia, he is the appointed leader of these men. Were it not for this status of leadership, Guy would have made an example of the man before the others for such disrespect; but a warden needed to have it known that he was above the rest, and how best to show that but to allow him some measure of respect with the knights.

_“The lord De’Constantin has sent me to aid you in pitching tents, as though you need protecting from the ground itself.”_ Guy tells the warden with barely contained disgust hot on his lips. Similarly, the warden's own features do no job of hiding how he feels, the grimace on his face a clear indicator. _“I am summoned to meet with the Arcazon de Vala and I don’t believe that you and your men are so weak that they cannot pitch their own tents now can they?”_ He adds, noticing the understanding in the warden’s eyes. Guy does not wish to help them, and the warden resents the thought that he and his men need a knight supervising them with such a simple task. _“We are about done my lord; it would be a better use of your time to meet with lord de Vala than waste it here.”_ He tells Guy who re-mount’s Auguste.

_“My thoughts exactly warden, we should not waste the time of another with such a matter as this when it is already being handled.”_ Guy says before prodding his horse and trotting away. Quickly Guy finds the camp of Arcazon de Vala and notices the man himself. Dropping from Auguste, he pats his steed before tieing it to a post, lest someone spook the horse. Noticing Guy’s aproach, Arcazon de Vala turns to him and the pair greet each other formerly shortly before Arcazon asks a question that seemed to be on his lips since before the two even met. *“What is your father like?”* He asks, though he almost immdeatly reels back at the sound of his own question. Attempting to explain himself, Guy just holds up his hand for Arcazon to listen. _“It is an honest question Arcazon, there is no need to feel ashamed by it. Vincent De’Constantin is a hard man and rightly so. We are knights of Bretonnia, charged with the protection of her lands and the guarding of her people. We cannot afford to show weakness when our enemies will not.”_

Arcazon nods once Guy finishes, but still feels inclined to explain himself for whatever reason. *"I apologize. I should not have been so keen to use you to get to your father. it is just my first time as head of a company and I wish to suceed. if you wish you may not answer for to be manipulative is a stain upon my honour. Forgive me"* _“There is no need to ask for forgiveness, though to admit what you have, that you are new to this, can lead to the thought of you being untested and unfit to lead. Others may see it as a sign of weakness that can not be tolerated, do not admit it to anyone else.”_ Guy responds, almost mechanically and without emotion.

In an attempt to change the subject, Guy asks Arcazon of the other members of their lance. Who they are and where the might be if they are already gathered.


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## Sarcasm (Nov 23, 2008)

Robert walked a pace behind his father as they entered the hall. His father, Guillaume de Paris, marched straight over to a table, behind which sat a knight. Robert trailed after him, gazing around the hall at the relics and the heads of defeated foes. He slowly wandered over to his father and stood beside him. "Snap out of it, boy," Guillaume muttered. Making an effort to stand up straighter and please his father Robert stopped staring around and looked at the knight.

The knight stared back, his eyes seeming to see right through him. With a jolt Robert realised that this was a Grail Knight, one who had drank from the Grail. He looked away hastily and a small smile flashed across the Grail Knight's face. "Greetings," said the knight to Guillaume. "I am to take your details here, so you are?"

"I am Guillaume de Paris, and this is my son Robert," replied Guillaume. "I bring with me 70 peasants; 40 archers and 30 men at arms."

"Very good. Do you and your son go to war?" asked the Grail Knight.

Guillaume stiffened slightly, to Robert's hidden amusement, before replying "I am afraid that I am unable to join the army. My duties here unfortunately do not allow it. The army will have to just make do with my son." A look of contempt appeared on his face as he spoke of Robert. Robert ignored it being used to it, but the Grail Knight seemed to notice it.

"I'm sure he will be a great help to our cause and will bring honour to your house," the knight said. He looked like he was about to say more when a knight rushed over and passed him a piece of parchment. He read it then looked at them with a smile on his lips. "The Lord of Quenelles is holding an all day tournament tomorrow. There are two events that may be entered by all knights... jousting and sword play." He then looked at Robert and spoke to him directly for the first time. "Good job you arrived when you did. Will you be entering?"

"I will, sir," replied Robert. "Sounds like an interesting day. Sign me up for the swordplay, please." The knight nodded and scribbled something down.

"I cannot participate, I am afraid," said Guillaume. "I must return immediately."

"Very well, go to see Emre de Sus before you leave. And lad, you are to report to Arcazon de Vala, he is to be your gallant. His heraldry is a unicorn rearing on blue and white checked background" replied the knight. "Farewell to you both. And good luck in the tournament lad," he added.

Robert nodded his thanks and followed his father out. They went to the horses and Guillaume mounted. "Go encamp the peasants. And don't make a fool of yourself boy," he said harshly before riding away without another word.

"Bye, father......." said Robert as his father rode off. "You bastard," he added under his breath. He pulled himself up onto his horse, Beren, and rode away to encamp the peasants.


The peasants were waiting for him when he arrived, already nearly set up. Robert hopped down from his horse and walked to meet one of the peasants who was approaching him. The peasant bowed and said, "My lord, we are almost camped. How can we assist you at this time?"

"There's no need for that Hugues. I'm not my father," he replied. "I was sent to encamp you but I see you have already done so. Good. I was however wanting to speak to you."

"I know what you want to say," said Hugues. "Yes it's safe."

"Ok good. Make sure it stay secret until my father is far away." Robert then climped back up onto his horse. "I'm going to find Arcazon de Vala, I will come back later."

"Farewell, my lord," said Hugues with a gap-toothed grin.


Robert rode away and eventually found Arcazon's tent. It was quiet but for several boys his age pitching tents nearby. He jumped down off Beren and entered the tent. It was empty. He looked around, shrugged and went to leave when he here a grunt from around the back of the tent. He went around the back and found a young man practising with a sword. He was tall with cropped brown hair and striking blue eyes. The man saw him and stopped his practise, giving Robert an enquiring look. "Are you Arcazon de Vala?" Robert asked.

"Yes I am," said Arcazon. "And you are?"

"I'm Robert de Paris, son of Guillaume de Paris. I am to join your lance."

"Good, good," said Arcazon. "Please pitch your tent nearby."

Robert walked away as Arcazon returned to his practise. He went to his horse and lead him over to an empty space near the tents being pitched by the other boys. He then carefully removed his armour and put on simple hose and a cloth shirt over which went a leather breastplate, much better for working in. He then began to erect his tent.

A short while later it was up he stowed his gear inside and tied Beren up outside the tent. He walked over to the other boys and said "Greetings, I'm Robert de Paris. I assume you are all part of Arcazon de Vala's lance? Have you all heard about tomorrow's tournament?


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Bors stared at the encroaching city with wide eyes, his Father was riding ahead while Bors made sure none of the villagers, many of Araby descent much like him did not try to flee. However he knew they would not, each was a Men-At-Arms and more than able to look after themselves if anything, or anybody was to try something against their lords. 

The hundred men walked in four rows of twenty five each, the first ten men of each row carried a long halberd, the next ten with scimitars and curved shields while the remaining five of each row carried a crossbow, a scimitar upon their thigh. 

He rode up ahead, pushing his noble steed faster while smacking it on the side with a long piece of brown leather. His Father, Lucan was sitting upon his own horse with his helm tucked neatly under one arm, his other resting on the reigns of his warhorse. Bors pulled up next to Lucan, his own horse, Nasib neighing in a slight fever while its rider leaned forwards on his head. 

They continued onwards until both nobles dismounted and walked into a large hall, other Knights lined the way to large wooden desks, a man behind each and suddenly Lucan was gone leaving Bors to be pushed along towards one of the Knights sitting down. As a member of House Palamedes it was up to Bors to earn them glory, along with his slightly more tactical minded Father. 

He took a feather quill from a pot of ink and wrote his name unto a parchment and the Knight, a damned Grail Knight, looked up and asked “Your skin, it is darker than most I have seen in a long time, you do not dwell from Brettonia?”. He looked back at the Grail Knight however did not want to speak until finally he collected the courage “While my grandfather was still in rule of my family he led a expedition to Araby, there my father fell in love with my mother however her father was not to willing….My grandfather bought her and several hundred of the cities peoples. Since then our village has been a basin for a mix of cultures”. 

The Errant Knight nodded his thanks and spun on the heal, cloak flying outwards and marched towards the large doors only to be intercepted by his Father along the way. Lucan grabbed his shoulders and pulled him behind a pillar saying “Encamp the men Bors, I get ready for war this day” he passed him a brown letter with the name Arcazon De Vala upon it before setting off at a rush. 

The Men-At-Arms were busy setting up a wooden fence around their area of the encampment when Bors came riding in at a gallop, Nasib pulled to a halt and kicked up a cloud of dirt, a pale man approaching and smiling at Bors saying “We have started to settle in Bors, we do not need your presence I am sure you have other places to be” There was a moment of silence before Bors returned “Ah, Tristram, always the same I see, if you do not need me I shall leave, good luck old friend”. 

He arrived at the camp soon later, setting up his tent he took to seeing that Nasib was well rather than approaching his other Lance Members.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William turned to see a new member of their lance greet them, *"Greetings, I'm Robert de Paris. I assume you are all part of Arcazon de Vala's lance? Have you all heard about tomorrow's tournament?"* William smiled at Robert, *"Hail, I am William Tolle, and yes we are a part of De Vala's lance. Nein I do not believe that I have heard of this tournament. I take it that you have signed up for it? What events can we sign up for?"* William put his hand out for Robert to shake.


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## Sarcasm (Nov 23, 2008)

Robert took the offered hand and shook it vigourously. "Good to meet you, William. Yes I have signed up for the tournament. It consists of two events, jousting and swordplay, I signed up for the swordplay. Do you plan to participate?"


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias was tending to his Horse when he heard a new voice say "Greetings, I'm Robert de Paris. I assume you are all part of Arcazon de Vala's lance? Have you all heard about tomorrow's tournament?". Denelias was about to go offer a handshake to the newcomer but the first of the knights errant beat him to it saying "Hail, I am William Tolle, and yes we are a part of De Vala's lance. Nein I do not believe that I have heard of this tournament. I take it that you have signed up for it? What events can we sign up for?". When Robert de Paris replied "Good to meet you, William. Yes I have signed up for the tournament. It consists of two events, jousting and swordplay, I signed up for the swordplay. Do you plan to participate?"

"My name is Denelias de Seimera, I might have to join you in the sword catagory friend, as i am hopeless at jousting, i never seem to hit the enemy, where do I sign up for the tournament?" Denelias said with a laugh, he then offered to shake Robert de Paris' hand.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Guy Lucas and Asmodeus:Arcazon stares at Guy intently and you can tell he is seriously considering your words but as he opens his mouth to respond there is a tremendous stern shout

"Arcazon de Vala, come here now."
Arcazon jerks upright his eyes wide with confused fear and he turns rushing back through the tent flap (beckoning for Guy to follow him) and almost colliding with Lucas who was looking for some indication he was in the right place ( the tent is bare merely a sleeping roll, cooking equipment and food and a small locked wooden box) and Asmodeus who has just moved in . Seizing your shoulders he guides you three back out as he strides through the tent flap and stops looking up at the knight and letting out a chuckle of relief.

Everyone else: As you go about your various tasks, pitching tents or even just conversing about the tournament, you see a magnificent brown mare ridden by a helmless knight in red and blue with a cheeky if portly face and bearing the pegasus symbol upon his shield. He canters in front of the tent and stops and his face becomes suddenly sour as he bellows

"Arcazon de Vala, come here now."



You see arcazon barrel from the tent and you all edge nearer as he looks up into the sour face and breaks into a laughter and the mounted errant joins him. 

EVERYONE
Lucas you see the pegasus symbol and understand the joke yet the rest of you are confused for a moment until the knight tosses a scroll at Arcazon which he catches deftly before riding off. As he rides away you hear the faint words

"May the best lance win" which causes a look of confusion to fall across Arcazons face yet he brightens as his eyes widen in realisation and he yells out 

"Form the line

Though none of you have never been to war you know the lance formation as a given right and so each of you tries to position yourself in your favourite position... there may be some clashes

diagram of the lance (its really not working right now but think of it as an upside down v with a in the centre and h and i in the middle to the v

a
b c
d h e
f i g
Say roughly where you stand to be and if someone has already taken your postion you can either subside or fight it out. I'm thinking particularly Asmodeus and Lucas for that front spot

You are a little on edge as this could be how Arcazon decides on the final lance formation and you could be stuck in an inferior spot for the rest of the campaign... or is this just a test to see if you can co-operate?

When you are formed Arcazon says nothing but merely reads out from the parchment 

_By order of the Lord of Quenelles

We ride in two days at dawn for Artois. Those that are not ready will be left behind. On the morrow we will host a tournament for the knights of this land to compete, practice and focus for war.

This is a time for the errantry knights to prove there worth, show there valour and courage in the face of danger, whilst it will allow them to show there skills to the gallants that will command them and they will be watched by the Lord of Quenelles himself.
It will be an open tournament and the newest errantry knight may the face the bravest and boldest knights favoured by our lady. There will be two events jousting and swordplay being held in 8 arenas that have been created to the west of the city and all knights are envited to compete.

The winner of the tournament will bear the banner of Quenelles into battle and be granted the chance to duel that master of the duel the Grail Knight Lord Catellen Lyonnel or joust with the Lord of Quenelles himself whilst there will also be prizes chosen and given by the Lord of Quenelles at the closing feast to 
The overall winners in both fields
The best errantry knight
The best errantry lance
Whilst the Lady of Quenelles will bestow her token upon not only her husband but one errantry knight from amongst your midst.

These honours can be yours good knights. Good luck, enter the tournaments by dusk and unlock your destinies_

There is a smile on Arcazon's face as he looks at you and you feel energized by his glee and he raises a fist and punches the air. 

"This tournament is the chance we have all been waiting for.. It is the chance we have dreamed of for years and year, the chance to show our skills in front of the best knights in the land. We must not waste this chance and though we cannot win alone... together we can bring honour to ourselves by ensuring that this Lance wins the competition."

His glee is gone replaced by an iron determination and you can see that your new captain is no eager pup but a ruthlessly determined wolf cub. Maybe his determination is inspiring to you or maybe you feel the pressure... the weight of his expectations?

He finishes

"I believe in us... Do you believe brothers?"

With a flourish he turns over the scroll pulling out a quill and licking the end before scrawling two words. He holds out the parchment and you see the words

"Arcazon: Jousting" still moist upon the page
Sign up (Sarcasm you afre obviously exempted)... talk... Lucas... Asmodeus... Guy introduce yourselves, interact... boast about your martial prowess even challenge each other in a teasing joking way. Some of you may not know about the rules of the tournaments ask... Arcazon is merely a few feet away pulling a tunic over his head


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William stood with the others as the somewhat portly knight called Arcazon out of his tent. The knight handed Arcazon a parchment and rode away and as they all stood and listened William thought about where to go in the lance formation and what to sign up for in the tournament. Well he was an excellent swordsman on and off his horse so it would be best if he was in the rear to protect the others, he moved to the I part in the formation and waited for the others to pick their spots. 

Once that was settled he made his way to Arcazon and took the parchment from him signing his name, 'William: Swordplay' and handed it off. He knew that boasting was wrong but he couldn't help it, *"So who do I have to beat in swordplay to earn some honors?" *he asked the members of the lance jokingly with a smile on his face.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

Before the Errant Knight before him had a chance to respond, and really before Asmodeus had a chance to register the inside of the tent he was being ushered outside by a guiding hand on his shoulder guard.

The name of their Gallant being bellowed outside did not quite fill Asmodeus with a sure feeling; though he managed to catch his first glimpse of their leader as he approached this newcomer and his confusion didn’t exactly go away when the two burst out in a fit of laughter. The newcomer tossed Arcazon a scroll and strode off into the crowd. But before Asmodeus can try and make any sense of the situation the Gallant calls out the lance rally call.

With drilled precision, Asmodeus made a beeline for Propero, saddling the mighty stallion before cantering to the lance position. Once more his fortified suit of Full plate mail glittered in the bright sunlight, his helmet strapped respectfully to the side of his mount.

Asmodeus was a well muscled individual, even for his young age and coupled with the powerful Propero, Asmodeus had always rode at the front of the Lance. His explosive charging power made this the best and most efficient place for him to take. This was not something he expected, or believes he deserved. It was simply the position he excelled in, and had trained in no other. Even his fortified and reinforced suit of all encasing armour was tailored to the front.

So as he had always done, Asmodeus rode to the front of the lance and waited for his fellows to select their own positions. He was a kind individual, though he was no fool, and he fully realised someone, if not several of the other errantry knights may try to challenge him for the position. He found himself wondering what he’ll do should the situation arise

-_I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see_.-

As he waited for the lance to fill, he found his mind tangling with another prospect; this tournament. How should he compete? On foot or with the Lance? Ordinarily he would go for the sword duel, though the lance contest would help distinguish his thundering abilities, removing doubt about his position at the head of the lance.

But the prospect of a duel with _the_ Lord Castellen himself... Asmodeus swore he felt his heart beat faster just at the possibility... Sure getting there may be the hardest task in the land, but should he fight with the lance it wasn’t even an option...



((OOC, I'll sign up when the lance formation is finalised  ))


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

(OOC: Same for me regarding the sign up)


As Guy waited for his gallant, Arcazon, to respond, a voice cut through the air; both Guy and Arcazon jerking around to see where the voice had come from. As he turned, Guy noticed another knight behind him, had he been there this whole time?

Guy's thoughts were interrupted as a hand placed itself on his shoulder and started to push him out of the tent. Needing no further hint, Guy made his way out with the other knight and Arcazon. Once outside he noticed several other young knights gathering around, missing the little conversation between Arcazon and the knight who had called his name.

He did not, however, miss gallant Arcazon's order: form the line. To which he, and a pair of other knights acted upon at once. Quickly mounting Auguste, Guy kneed the horse forward towards the front of the forming lance. Where he lacked the finesse of his father with a sword, Guy made up for it with a lance and leading others. Or at least giving those with him the inspiration they needed at the right time, as his father had so dutifully beat into him.

As Guy approached the front though, another of the knights seemed to be doing so as well. Clad in a heavier, possibly even encumbering armour, Guy felt the fellow knight looked out of place on horseback, let alone at the front of a lance where his own armour could impede his ability to see or be heard by the rest of the unit.

Turning Auguste, the horse picked up some speed and put Guy in front of the second knight. _"I believe your armour may lend itself to only impeding us if you take up the front.You should take to the side leading out (position b) where you could work best casting an enemy aside."_ He said, hoping the other knight could hear him through all that armour.

(Going for position a if no one could tell.)


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

Asmodeus had been staring up into the dazzling azure sky as Guy approached him. As the young knight began to speak he tilted his head down to regard him. The emerald gems of his eyes seemed to sparkle like his suit, the ruffle of light hair waving slightly in a refreshing breeze. A warm smile followed his gaze from the sky to the Errant Knight.

Immediately he could tell this was a challenge, just by the way this Knight carried himself. His words solidified the fact.

'You don't have to speak like I'm a child friend, my helmet is on the side of my horse, I can hear you perfectly.' He kept his tone genuinely warm and friendly. He lifted his gauntlet and regarded it jokingly, another smile crossing his face.

'Do you think so? I've found the armour lends to the weight of the charge. I'd be afraid a light armoured individual wouldn't be able to but enough power behind the blow, nor be able to withstand the shock of impact. I've seen knights blown off their horse by their own power.'

'If you _are_ able to put power behind your charge, then perhaps the neck of the lance would be more suitable (position c or b). After all, why do you think spears are hardest at the front?' He smiled once more 'And I'm more than use to taking the brunt hit from the front.'


He wasn't sure he liked this Knights tone, nor manner. He didn't particularly value the head as a position of honour, but it was a inspirational role. He immediately didn't see this Knight as charismatic enough to ensure the fury of his charges, and seeing him fall because he couldn't take the brunt would damage their morale. Asmodeus didn't let any of this show throw his friendly exterior of course, he wanted to come off as likeable as possible.

'I never caught your name friend. I am Asmodeus D'aerthe'


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

_"I am Guy De'Constantin, and it does not matter who can take the greater hit Asmodeus D'aerthe. If you block the sight of the rest of the lance than you put everyone else at risk of being uncoordinated. It is the same as someone who charges ahead of the rest of the unit, leaving the tip blunted when the lance hits and dividing one's own forces."_ Guy answered back to the bulkier looking knight.

_"My father has taught me that a good lance can prevail only if the body is strong, the tip must be there to inspire others and find the weakness of the enemy to be best exploited."_ He said. _"Do not worry about my ability with the lance Asmodeus D'aerthe, I have complete confidence that a man like yourself will make sure nothing takes me down while I direct you to where you can do the most damage."_ He added with a smile of his own.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

-_He speaks as if he already leads the lance. . ._-

'You don't need to worry yourself about my ability to coordinate those around me Guy De'Constantin, I've practised plenty at leading the lance. The strength of the body matters not if the head breaks and the body crumbles like a house of cards.'

He had to choose his next words carefully, to avoid offending the knight

'I'm sure your Father is more than capable of leading a lance, friend, though seeing the tip fall would do more damage than any blade of the enemy to our formation.'

He glanced over at the rest of the assembling Errantry Knights, smiling as his eyes returned.

'And my voice is plenty able to carry over the wind Guy De'Constantin, I have full confidence in my ability to maintain the shape of the lance, sustaining the perfect distance so my form would not block the way for the body. What's straight ahead would be my concern to decide for the rest of the lance, the flanking members would have no trouble striking or seeing past my sides. Every member focusing directly before us would leave us vulnerable to attacks from the edge, trust in the lead is required friend.'


'I hear your argument, and don't think this to be my selfish desire for glory Guy De'Constantin. I freely admit that my experience in the flanking positions pales in comparison to those at the head, I'd be letting down myself, you and the formation as a whole by not fighting in my best aspect. I _know_ my abilities would be put to best use at the tip of the Lance. I have trained night and day leading and fighting from the front.'


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

*Friend, he speaks as if the word truly means anything between us at this point.* Guy thinks to himself while listening to Asmodeus talk and he had to try very hard to conceal his disgust at the fellow knights words. He tried to sidestep one problem while admitting to another. No leader could afford to admit a weakness like that in front of a comrade even if it were true. He had to appear to those he lead as if he were in complete control and he had no fault; that was the measure of a true leader.

Leaning over as far as he dared towards Asmodeus, Guy locked his green eyes with Asmodeus's own and spoke so that only the two would hear his words. _"You and I Asmodeus D'aerthe, we are very much alike; we both should ride at the head of the formation and neither of us is willing to simply step down. So I propose this to you; in this tournament that is to take place, we may end up facing each other. Should this happen, the victor will claim the head of the lance and the other will relinquish without question. Should we not face each other, whichever of us gets further will be the victor of this." _

Guy proposed this with a smile on his lips, before adding more._ "Since this is over who rides at the head, I believe you and I both go for the lance rather than the sword." _Guy said this, though he would have preferred the sword against Asmodeus. His armour was heavier, and that would slow him down on foot, but this was a matter of the lance and so it should be resolved by that. Guy was an excellent rider, he could move with a blow to deflect much of its power; the Lady knows he had managed to do so a fair number of times against his father these last few summers and falls.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

_"You and I Asmodeus D'aerthe, we are very much alike"_

-_I am not so sure Guy De'Constantin. . ._-


Though it _was_ remarkably close to what Asmodeus himself was thinking. In truth the lure of facing his Hero embodied was almost too much for the young Knight, banishing all other desires.

-_No. No, to prove myself to the Lance this is what I must do, selfish urges aside._-

Asmodeus truly believed he was a better swordsman, his armour and armament were more unusual than the norm on the field of battle, his style and training had often given him an edge. He was sure he _preferred_ the sword. But the Lance it was. He appeared to consider Guy's words, though he'd been ready to utter them himself moments later.

'You speak the truth Guy De'Constantin' a cheeky grin crawled across his face 'There never _was_ going to be a more appropriate way to determine. And more than fair it is. Very well, we will let the tournament decide.' He glanced around the other Knights before leaning back towards the Knight

'And should you excel with the lance I will happily follow you to hell and back, no questions asked.' He extended his gauntlet out towards the young Knight.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

((I will go for position E in the Lance)

Bors wrote his name upon another parchment, the name William and the words Swordplay were next to it. He heard his fellow Knight boast and the burly Palamedes turned towards him, his armour clanking while his helm rested with Nasib near his tent and clasped his hands, rubbing the black leather of his palms together he let out a wolfish grin and said “Ah, you must be William. My name is Bors, you will hopefully be going up against me in the swordplay my friend however let me warn you I do not give in easily” with that he outstretched his hand and let out a curt laugh.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William had been intent on the confrontation at the front of the Lance when Bors had spoken to him, he turned his head to regard him and took his helm off, the red plumage running from front to back moving lightly. He reached from the back of his horse Seig and took Bors' hand and smiled, his blue eyes shining, *"Indeed my friend, I doubt that you would be an easy opponent, yet I look forward to us meeting each other head to head and know that it will be a learning experience for us both. While I am more adept at the sword from horseback seeing as how that is how my family fights I am equally as adept and at home on the ground." *

He shrugged his shoulders, the bright silver plates of his armor shining brightly and leaned towards Bors so that Asmodeus and Guy could not hear him, *"What I am really interested in though is what is going on at the head of our lance. Who do you think should have the position? To me Guy seems a bit pompous for my liking, my father always taught me to be humble and humble he is most definately not. Yet Asmodeus is coated in such thick armor I can hardly see how he is able to move, but I know that it will most definately aid him in deflecting or taking hits. What do you think Bors?"*


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

OOC: Sorry Guys, been snowed under with work, taking a breather tonight though, but should be able to put more effort in over the next few weeks 

The fat knight had been a source of humour for Lucas, his gentle mirth smothered at the disapproving looks of some of his peers.

Up until this point, Lucas had stayed out of the conversation - watching with slight amusement at the confrontation between Guy and Asmodeus. He had recieved slight training when at home, but Mannheim, the old Captain had not trained fully in the lance, being a man of the Empire. However, the training he had recieved in both rowing, and fishing pike from the tributary had strengthened his arms when he was a child, and as a young adult, the training in skills of war had seen him rapidly bulk up.

The Scroll was being passed round, and seeing the opportunity, moved in deftly, and in the disjointed writing of one who learned his letters by necessity, rather than any particular wish to, signed up for the Swordplay. While his swordsmanship wasn't entirely perfect, the large kite shield on Ouragan was battered and dinted - Mannheim had drilled for hours for the last few months, every single day, launching blunt headed javelins, and arrows with enough force to break a rib at exposed locations on Lucas' body - indeed, the cracked toe and only recently bruised rib testament to the old man's prowess. It would be the edge - no matter how long the opponent battered upon his shield, they would eventually tire - take the hit, left foot forward, brace on the right, push with shield, right foot up, weight on the left, disable the shield with mace, hook the right foot behind, push again with shield. Shield walls or single combat - it is all the same.

"de Vala?"

"About the swordplay - are we free to use a choice of weapons? I have recieved more training with mine mace," indicating the flange headed metre of solid steel hanging off a belt loop, "than with my sword. If if pleases you gents, I shall take the right side. I only wish I could compete in both the swords and lance."

Extending his hand towards the arguing knights errant he gave his name.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

(OCC. sorry been a bit crowded around here)
Denelias looked the newcomer in surprise, he hadn't noticed him there until the man had called out, being occupied by cleaning and sharpening his blade.

Denelias noticed that as Arcazon came out he looked a little worried but when he saw the man his face broke into a massive smile, was it possible that Arcazon wasn't that well liked among his peers? 

When the tournament was stated he instantly walked up to the sword fighting line, as he was near hopeless with a lance, Denelias took a place behind William and Bors, although he was small, he could definitely hold his own, using quick strikes instead of the massive blows that use so much enemy that most people normally use. Denelias signed the form with sword fighting beside it. He the turned around and said to Bors "my name is Denelias, i think i will manage against your sword arm friend" and vigorously shook his hand.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Excellent reever and CH
Ok so currently positions in the lance
Fumble tumble, Sarcasm the positions left open too you are shown below
Choose or contest
a-b = asmodeus or guy
c- Lucas
d-
e- Bors
f- Arcazon
g- 
h- NPC or any new charactor that joins
i- William
______________________________________________________________
(Sorry its not the most inspiring updates at the moment the tournament I promise will change things)

*Everyone in particular Guy, Lucas and Asmodeus*: As you discuss the lance and the tournament together you do not notice Arcazon slipping his own mail and tunic over his head and as Lucas approaches he has moved to his horse stroking its mane yet he is listening intently to the conversation and whips around as Lucas says his name

"About the swordplay - are we free to use a choice of weapons? I have recieved more training with mine mace, than with my sword. If if pleases you gents, I shall take the right side. I only wish I could compete in both the swords and lance."

Arcazon looks at it and then moves to the middle of the group taking the scroll from Denelias's hand with a small smile. Before turning it over to read the writing on the back.. scanning the rules carefully. He looks at you and says in a voice loud enough to carry to those of you that have signed up for the sword play. Any questions you better ask him now!

"The sword play would accept the mace however there is a rule that in the swordplay this tournament will focus upon disarmament. the Lord of Quenelles wishes for no major injuries to his warriors."
He continued his finger tracing the words of the Lord of Quenelles

"Thus the victor will be decided in three rounds by the judgement of the Lord of Quenelles or the grail knight presiding or first touch upon the opponents chest or helm, and capture of your opponents sword or valiant surrender."

Arcazon pushes the scroll into the pocket of his tunic and looked earnestly at Lucas before moving over to stand between Guy and Asmodeus.

"Also I expect any member of the tip of my lance (a,b and c) to show me their skills and verify their abilities in the joust, thus Lucas I would prefer it if you took the lance but obviously its your decision."
He passes the scroll to you before turning to the rest of the group

"Armour up and saddle your horses.. we need to deliver the scroll and then check out the competition."

He smiles

"I think the pub is the best place to get to know one another."

As you disperse he calls out

"Also you swordsman, you may wish to think about sparring before the night is out. It will take my a good half an hour to brush and saddle my horse."

Guy and Asmodeus's as you move away he places a hand on your shoulder restraining you and he talks to you in a low voice so as not to carry to the rest of the group

"He who leads the lance must as Guy rightly said be able to direct and guide, yet he must have the force in his charge in order to propell the rest of his lance into combat and break the line. It is one of the most important positions in the lance nay the most important and is normally taken by the gallant of the lance."

He placed himself at the tip forcing himself between Guy and Asmodeus yet he smiled at their indignant looks

"Yet I have no intention of taking the tip. I intend to take the position in the line that has always been mine that was given to me by my father and that I have taken over, fought for and won 3 times in each campaign. The very edge of the left flank, it is a position (position f) that is undervalued yet its responsibilites are great. It is my job to ensure that the lance is not surrounded, to aid the rearguard and to carry the momentum of the lance once the tip is bogged down in the densest of enemies." 

His voice became deadly as he looked at Guy and Asmodeus

"Though I admire determination and drive, you do not lead this lance, that job was charged to me and me alone. If I say you shall sit in the middle of the lance you will do so without question. It will be my choice which of you sits at the head of the lance for that position is key."

"Do we understand eachother?"

He paused and looks at you and you can tell that any dissent will end badly for both of you. His eyes are cold and hard and you can tell that any challenge will be accepted and dispatched with immediately. Maybe you think you could take him, but Arcazon stands taller and thinner than Asmodeus, an inch smaller yet broader than guy. Though his physique is not the most imposing, he is still well muscled and he has the benefit of 3 campaigns of experience, to give you a pause.

He waits for your responses, half turned ready to move to your horse. After you have responded call out to Lucas to sign you both up for the lance as well for your competition is still on going.

*Lucas: *Vaz you need to decide which category you will choose and also it may be a good idea to get to know Guy and Asmodeus who join you at the tip and in the joust. You will have to work together if you are to become a successful unit thats for sure


Bors, William, Denelias, Robert: Your postions are signed, fumble and sarcasm you need to decide your place in the lance whilst You are excited at the prospect of the competition between yourselves and the other errantry knights yet their may also be nerves. Many of you may have drunk wine in small amounts yet only a few of you will have drunk ale, not having been campaigning, maybe you will embarass yourselves and the lance or maybe you have stories to tell.

Yet Arcazon has asked you to spar and there are four of you. Pair off two on two and do something light and gentle attempting to disarm, try and work together with your partner, gain some cohesion. Your four new knights trying to bond and gain some cohesion with the lance whilst impressing Arcazon.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

The pub... He'd had some funny moments with his farther on the drink, though he'd have to be sure to watch his consumption, didn't want to do something stupid infront of the lance this early on.

He was about to move to finally sign the tournament parchment, having finally decided on the joust when he felt Acazons hand on his armoured shoulder.

"He who leads the lance must as Guy rightly said be able to direct and guide, yet he must have the force in his charge in order to propell the rest of his lance into combat and break the line. It is one of the most important positions in the lance nay the most important and is normally taken by the gallant of the lance."

Asmodeus listened to the Gallant. He was making it clear who was in charge here, not that Asmodeus really had a problem, he'd expected a bit more of an oppressive leadership from the gallant, he quite liked the general relaxed demeanour Arcazon gave off.

"Do we understand each other?"

Asmodeus smiled disarmingly at Arcazon.

'Of course Gallant Arcazon, I would never consider insubordination.'

He took note of the tone and stance of the gallant; was he expecting either, or both of them to speak out or even challenge him? Interesting. . .

He saw Lucas holding the tournament parchment and rode slowly over to him, turning on his flank.

'Lucas d'Altaville? A pleasure to meet you.' He extended out his hand towards the errant knight. 'Asmodeus D'aerthe'

He indicated towards the parchment and nodded his thanks as the knight passed it over, scrawling

_Asmodeus D'aerthe: Lance_

Across its surface.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias moved into the position 'D' and waited for everyone else to move up, he didn't mind if he was on the sideline, it gave him a good veiw of everyone apart from the few behind him, so he would be able to help them if needed, if he could save the his fellow errant's, even if it meant staying on the sidelines, he would do it


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Guy took in all that Arcazon had said to them and it took all his effort to hide a sneer. The man sought to see which would be foolish enough to challange them as he asserted his place as the leader of this lance, but at the same time he made sure to point out that he was all but relinquishing his leadership by not taking the tip. What _real_ leader led from the back?

_'Of course Gallant Arcazon, I would never consider insubordination.'_ Asmodeus, his fellow knight and lancemate, answered before Guy got a chance to. No ambition, no true leadership in him as Asmodeus made to bow for Arcazon with his tail between his legs.

_"My gallant, you lead here but you have chosen not to take the tip for yourself. Neither of us would willingly relinquish the position we both desire to go, so we have merely agreed upon terms that both can agree to. You lead this lance, so surely you would have been able to settle manners in a similar fashion that would be most suitable for anyone seeking to be at the tip of the lance."_ Guy answered before turning his horse and following Asmodeus, taking the scroll from him and pacing his own name on it with the lance selected.


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## Vaz (Mar 19, 2008)

Accepting the offered hand, Lucas looked into the mans eyes. Seeing the challenge, he came to his decision - after all, there was something to prove to both Guy and Asmodeus. 

"Although it pains me, I shall fight in the lance tournament. If we are to be the point of the spear, then it makes sense we know how capable we are. I shall fight in this tournament as well. Ouragon and I shall prove ourselves. When the dust settles, we shall see who leads this lance, and who merely rides in the front."

Hearing his name, the horse raised its head, before snorting, and returning back to cropping the sparse grass around his tether. 

Lucas scribbled out his name by the Swords, and changed it to the joust. They were ready, and he quickly moved over to unlock some of the long armoured skirts of Ouragon. Letting them fall to the ground, he picked up a watering bucket, and through it over the Percheron, it's great black muscled side and legs flashing up in steam at the heat - only the leather gloves of his armour stopped the heat blistering his fingers, the silken backing of the iron scales keeping the horse cool.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Bors took a sniff of the brown liquid within his drinking vassel, brow furrowing. He spun it around and moved it to his lips letting the cold metal touch his warm tounge he took a mouthfull and swigged it there for a few seconds before letting it slip down his throat. He was used to a wine made in Araby, formed through crushed spices and fruits it was not to strong so he was acustom to drinking it in large quantites. In fact he had some within his tent. He tipped the contents of his vassel into the ground and walked towards Nasib, patting him gently he took out a brush from a side pouch and began to groom him.


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## Sarcasm (Nov 23, 2008)

Robert shook Denelias' hand and was about to speak when a knight rode up and shouted for Arcazon. He came rushing out of his tent and broke out into laughter Robert just stood watching with a slightly bemused look on his face. The knight threw Arcazon a scroll then rode away as Arcazon read it and shouted for the everyone to get into the lance formation.

Everyone formed up in their favoured position, except Robert who just waited until everyone else was in place before taking an empty position (position g). _I don't really care where I am_ he thought. _Since my skill with a lance is basically non-existent there's no point with me being near the front so here will do fine._

As he sat on Beren's back in his position, he watched the confrontation at the front of the lance with faint interest. He saw the two errants argue over the position at the tip of the lance and watched with greater interest as Arcason intervened. _Arcazon could do okay, but I guess we will see_ he decided.

He was still thinking when he heard Arcazon mention a pub, which gave him Robert's full attention. He then told the swordsmen to spar for awhile. _Well that includes me I guess_. He broke formation and leapt down off Beren before calling out, "Okay, who wants to spar with me?"


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

When Denelias heard the challenge "Okay, who wants to spar with me" he spun around quickly to accept the challenge, this would be a great time to gauge his new friends skill with a blade, he called "friend i would gladly accept your challenge"


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Ok guys lets try and move this along a little bit
Each of your update will now contain an everyone part for you all to read and then a part specific to you

Everyone: Denelias and Robert have your spar.

In the middle, Arcazon calls for you all to mount and you mount up as he moves his horse forward with a click of his tongue. You move forward as a column 2 abreast and 4 ranks. (Denelias you find yourself beside Asmodeus) the rest of you can choose who you find yourself next to as you snake through the maze of tents. 

Over the fields you can see fully armoured and experienced knights practising hard for the tournament tomorrow and their is a cheer from watching errant knights and peasants as a questing knight forces his opponent to his knees by a low swipe followed by a quick thrust that cause the other knight to loose balance and fall. You watch as the knight places the sword under his chin causing his surrender his sword. Those of you that have choosen sword play watch particularly attentively, perhaps discerning a new move or noting the accepted signs of surrender and victory.

As you move past a tent with a resplendent gold sun upon a purple background another group of knights stop and wait to move past you and Arcazon calls out to the knight at the head

"Phineas, how were they?"

"Snails the lot of them."

"Have none of us impressed?"

"Valeus failed worse than I did and Will was little better whilst Phillip was excellent until one of his lions almost shit itself at the sight of confrontation. You are our last hope Arcazon or we will be the laughing stock of our lance"

Arcazon curses under his breath yet he keeps his face impassive despite your questioning glances though you see a small smile appearing on his face.

You ride on wondering what they were going on about when there is a sudden cry of "Lord De Vala, my Lord Asmodeus" and you all twist round to see a mounted yeoman bearing the colours of Asmodeus struggling to reach you astride a massive cart horse.

You all halt near a small arena created for more swordplay practice and he presses a letter in Asmodeus's hands and then calls out several names and passes letters to some of you...



Asmodeus: The guy moves over and tells you that the camp is up and that they have been placed under the command of Lord Reve. He is tough and uncaring but he is fair and stands in the line with them leading them from the front like a true hero. When you ask him how come he brought all the letters he indicates that your father had written to you and he was asked to deliver them all.

This turns your attention to the letter in your hand and you open it to see words in your fathers hand

_Tournament tomorrow... I intend to compete in the joust... however I will make a point to watch your bout and am of full faith that you will progress through the tournament. Good luck and may you bring glory to your lance the Lord of Quenelles prize is one that is most definitely worth taking, words have been said of the errantry banner. 

Be on your guard tonight... though duty means I cannot say why_

Scribble a reply and maybe make others aware of what you have gleaned from the letter

Bors: Your name is called and the peasant tosses you a scroll and you open it to see your father has written to you

_I'm sure you will be taking the swordplay in the tournament tomorrow and I intend to watch you, yet there may be a problem as 4 jousting bouts and 4 swords bouts will occur at the same time to save as much time as possible. I have been placed in a lance with several other knights and though my quarters are rather cramped it is comfortable and we will not be present for more than 2 nights. 

Be alert tonight... though duty means I cannot say why"
_

Scribble a reply and dwell upon his last words and as you turn in confusion Guy will accost you after he does so reply to him

Guy: Your letter is short and clipped and you can tell from your fathers tone that he is under pressure with the new workload

_Organization strenuous... have managed to ensure that De vala will be situated in the thick of the fighting... his reputation is high and his fathers history means he sits well in the Lord of Quenelle's eye.

Tell de Vala that idiotic antics are frowned upon_

You scribble a reply and move to tell De Vala yet he is deep in conversation with Denelias and you are rather intrigued by the look of confusion upon the dark face of Bors. 

Enquire what is puzzling him and piece together with the last comment to de Vala and his cryptic conversation that there is something that he isnt telling you. 

Lucas Your letter is short and typical of your father when he is working

"Too much paperwork... .. Beware tonight... traditions will be upheld"

Dont bother to reply... chances are your father will be too busy to answer and follow Robert down the bank towards the small space cleared by the knights for practice. As you move down the knight that is duelling slips and is forced to surrender to the lamentations of his peers. The other knight helps him to his feet and you turn to see that the knight that slipped is a mere knight of the realm whilst the other is a grail knight.

The grail knight yells out to the crowd... "any more takers?"

You move eagerly forward yet you are stopped by the firm arm of the knight of the realm

He pulls off his helm to reveal flowing blond hair and indicates the mace at your waist and mutters

"My brother will not want to duel that... not with a sword tournament coming tomorrow. I however...."
He stoops to a bundle and reveals his own morning star with a smile 

"would be curious to see how you use your weapon."

You move away to a more secluded spot and the knight draws his sword.
Attack him... the first time he will evade your attack barely... the second he will evade once more and your mace stuck in the mud and you are forced to evade clumsily yet he does not press the attack and you come on and he hooks the mace round his sword and yanks it away from your hand with a small smile

He looks at you

"Admittedly you couldn't go for the kill yet still you show excellent skill with the mace"

"What is your name?"

Tell him your name and he will arrange to meet you on the march to practice more with the mace.

Robert: You receive no letter and decide to move down the bank to watch the sword play. As you move down the knight that is duelling slips and is forced to surrender to the lamentations of his peers. The other knight helps him to his feet and you turn to see that the knight that slipped is a mere knight of the realm whilst the other is a grail knight.

The knight hollers "any more takers?"

Nobody seems to be coming forward and many of the other knights have backed away and you see Lucas being ushered away by anther knightso you step forward and the grail knight smiles as you step towards the arena yet you are restained by a tight hand upon your shoulder and you turn to see a face you havent seen for a long time. Your uncle Jules smiles down at you and you start in surprise... ask him why he is here

He replies
"The grail will wait for me... yet the king needs our help"

His great sword is in his hand and he steps ahead of you into the arena... turning for a moment 
"We will see eachother at the tournament tomorrow Robert I will look out for you"

He steps into the pit and you watch his duel for a moment with neither giving a yard yet you here someone calling your name and see Arcazon calling you back. You are forced to tear your eyes away from your heroes duel and rejoin the group.


William: You too have a letter yet it is not in a hand you recognise and you open to read

_Will
Combined raid upon de Vala and Valeus, tonight?

Phineus_

You are obviously confused and this message is most certainly not for you. A raid upon yourself is planned yet why would anyone raid you?

The whole thing is obviously confusing... better alert de Vala to the possibility of a raid and ask him what the hell it means.

Denelias:You are riding next to Arcazon and like him receive no letter yet as the others are investigating the contents you notice he is looking rather pensive, lost in his own thoughts. As you turn to follow Lucas and Robert down the bank towards the duel he places a hand upon your shoulder.

"I have a difficult decision to make over who rides at the head of the lance."
He looks quickly at you

"Which would you choose or better to say... how would you choose... on mere skill alone or on trust and relations within the lance??"

Give him your advice... but then it occurs to you... why is he asking you... should you ask him or does that show uncertainty in your own skill.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias was surprised when Arcazon, turned to him and said "Which would you choose or better to say... how would you choose... on mere skill alone or on trust and relations within the lance??". Denelias sat there thinking for a few minutes thinking about his reply, wondering which was the better answer, you obviously need a rather good fighter at the head of the lance, but from what he had saw, everyone was respectively good at different talents, while to be a good leader, you had to have everyones trust and friendship, as they were defending your flanks and they had to be your closest brothers in arms. 

Denelias looked at Arcazon, before replying "my friend, if you want my opinion, choose the relations between the lance, the leader needs to be on good terms with everyone else, otherwise they will desert that person in the midst of battle, leaving the other person to die, and i don't know about you but i would rather that i got to know the others before they die, although i know that a few of us will probably die in the battle to come, im hoping that the person who is dying, will die with the brothers in arms around him, not on his own being butchered by the enemy." Denelias stopped and looked at Arcazon to see his reaction to his ideas, and asked "friend why do you ask me these questions?"


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

The sun was doing them little favours in this field. Though as the day progressed its caress started to cool and ease, giving the field a warm ambience. Since the practised formation of the lance the day had moved on with little event really, a few of the other Errant Knights had duelled on the ground, and in truth he had sorely wished to join them, but he'd left it this time. He had to be 100% for the tournament tomorrow.

As they moved through the field in their column Asmodeus found himself riding besides Denelias (Chronologically this will be before your conversation just then with Arcazon XD). He'd caught the Knights name but had yet to speak.

'Greetings friend, my name is Asmodeus D'aerthe and I look forward to riding with you.' He smiled warmly 'And to the tournament tomorrow, how have you chosen to compete?'


As Arcazon called out to another Knight Asmodeus fell silent, not staring but listening intently.

As with his last encounter with another knight, Lord Arcazon only seemed the more mysterious, though Asmodeus had started to piece together some idea of what was going on.

-_Where they from the same lance? Split up and each tasked to be a Gallant? Or something else. If that is the truth then it appears that the Errantry lances of these Gallants have failed in some way, or where unimpressive. . . In what though?_-

He was about to voice a few of his thoughts with Denelias, but he was cut off by the calling yeoman, he was surprised to hear his name called personally.

'For you my lord' And the delivering one pressed a curled parchment into his hands before gingerly stepping away and handing some similar but slightly different notes to his lance mates. Asmodeus cleanly cut away the D'aerthe seal and unfurled the letter:


_
Tournament tomorrow... I intend to compete in the joust... however I will make a point to watch your bout and am of full faith that you will progress through the tournament. Good luck and may you bring glory to your lance the Lord of Quenelles prize is one that is most definitely worth taking, words have been said of the errantry banner.

Be on your guard tonight... though duty means I cannot say why_




He looked thoughtful for a moment, before taking up a quill and scrawling a hasty reply.



_Father.

I will also be competing in the joust, I'll be competing to prove my worthiness as the lance tip. With your blessing and watchful eye I know I'll advance with honour.

I hope I do you proud. Thank you for the support.

Asmodeus._




He liked the quill from force of habit before storing away and quickly sealing the letter in time for the man's return.

'I'm glad to hear the camp is up, wish I could have stayed to finish it all off with you.'

'Nonsense my Lord, you had much more pressing matters to attend'

Asmodeus laughed slightly 'Pressing indeed! How is it that you came to bring all of my comrades letters friend?'

The yeoman shrugged slightly before responding. 'I was tasked by your Father to bring you that letter and I managed to get lumped with the ones made for the rest of this lance, pretty handy timing really.' He smiled sheepishly. 'Well, I better be off. Good luck if you're in the tournament tomorrow my Lord!' He shouted as he waved off before disappearing in the crowd.

Asmodeus barely got out a thank you before he was gone.


'So what do you suppos-' Asmodeus stopped when he realised Denelias was no longer at his side. He huffed slightly, feeling a little inwardly embarrassed for talking aloud to what could only have looked like himself. He looked around and noticed Bors and William were the closest, though the latter still seemed caught up in reading his letter.

'Hail friend, Asmodeus D'aerthe, I don't think we've been introduced.' He grinned as he addressed the two Errantry knights, ready for either to reply.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William took the letter given to him and read it intently realizing that this most certainly was not meant for him. But just as he was about to give it back he read over it again, a raid? Why would someone want to raid his lance? And what kind of a raid would it be and what would be its purpose? His brow furrowed as the others either read their letters or went to watch the swordplay practice but he sat on Seig who lightly swished his tail to and fro as he munched on some grass.

*"Hmmm..."* he mumbled, Seig picked his head up and William leaned in close and whispered to him, *"I think this might be one of father's antics, I have no doubt that he will play part in this 'raid', I am going to tell De Vala, by the Lady we have been given a nice little upper hand in whatever is to come later.'"* Seig snorted in response and William picked his head up as one of the knights introduced himself, *'Hail friend, Asmodeus D'aerthe, I don't think we've been introduced.'* William smiled through his helm at his fellow knight and held out his hand, *"No I do not believe we have, I am William Tolle and I am pleased to meet you Asmodeus."* He leaned closer to Asmodeus from the back of Seig, *"Come with me to talk to De Vala, I believe something strange will be afoot tonight, and this letter that I have recieved looks like an upper hand."*

William turned Seig around and trotted a few paces to De Vala and spoke up so only he, De Vala and Asmodeus cold hear him, *"Lord I believe that there is going to be a raid on us tonight. This letter that I recieved is most certainly not for me and says that we will be raided, I believe that we have been given an upper hand in whatever was going to happen tonight."*


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Riding with the others of the lance, Guy rides beside another of the knights, Bors he might have said to the others, gallant De Vala suddenly halts them to speak with the gallant of another lance. Their words are kept short, and they reference something that Guy is not privy to and so do not make sense to him.

Within a few minutes, gallan De Vala and the lance begin to ride again before someone calls out his name and the name of Asmodeus, bearing what appear to be several letters. The man, a peasant with a patch marking him as the charge of Asmodeus and his family, calls out the names of other knights and begins to hand them the letters; confirming that the man next to him is indeed named Bors. When the messenger calls his name, a snarl nearly forces its way through his lips. Asmodeus may tolerate the disobedience of allowing these peasants to be so disrespectful but the De'Constantin did not.

Taking the letter from the messenger, Guy recognized the writing as that of his father's; short and clipped as always, right to the point. Reading through the contents of the letter, confusion briefly crossed his features in regards to the mention of antics; but he shrugged that away without much of a thought. That they would be in the thickest of the fighting, that was good to find out, and armed with such knowledge could prove useful. Especially if it turned out that his gallant did not even know this.

Quickly, Guy scribbled that he understood his father's message and looked forward to breaking the enemy. Looking around, Guy noticed the expression on the other knight's, Bors, face. He was no enchantress or great baron, Guy did not have the experience to read people's thought but he could tell when something was wrong.

_"Something amiss my fellow knight? Anything interesting for the lance to be gained from your letter?"_ He asked.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Bors read the note with wide eyes, taking in each and every word. His pupils narrowed as he read the last sentance. 

_Be alert tonight... though duty means I cannot say why_

What did this mean? Was his father trying to give him a hidden warning? Was he going to be attacked? Whatever the answer was he knew that he would not sleep this night, instead he would adorn his armour and keep a firm grip upon his blade however that was easier said than done he realised. 

He patted Nasib gently and quickly scribbled upon the back of the note-

_Father, good luck with the tournament tomorow, I am sure you will bring our House justice and earn us a good name amongst the Lords and Knights. I thank you for your warning, I just wish you could tell me what it was for. However duty bids you unable, I only would want you to be by my side. Your son, Bors._

Suddenly a voice alerted him to the friendly looking form of Guy, atleast he assumed this was the man named Guy. He nodded at his question and muttered "Yes fellow Knight, my father told me I should be aware tonight.....I do not know why however" He reached forwards and continued "How about your message friend? Did your father tell you anything of importance?".


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Vaz and sarcasm you are still on the last update

Everyone else:

As you clamour around Arcazon with your questions you notice he is suddenly looking rather sheepish yet he takes the note and reads it with a sudden look of glee

"There are many traditions for newly inducted kngihts errant and lances to establish a degree of competition and to test errants valour and to knit the lances together before the field of battle."

His face is a little downcast

"I am sworn to secrecy on these traditions that every gallant knows and has experienced. 5 of us including Phineus, who you met, and Will the messenger were raised to the gallant during this campaign along with several other knights errants. Hence there is an extra edge of competition between us however we swore to stay silent until it was impossible to do otherwise."

He looks at William.

"Will Toller is an old member of my lance and this message must have got mixed up with William Tolle. However it is to our advantage as we know that Phineus and Will intend to raid us tonight. 

By tradition we must place our banner in the middle of the camp. Horses, armour and weaponry may not be used and thus it is hand to hand combat. If you best someone in combat he must be tied and left their though gloating notes are often found. I remember one humiliating encounter with one giant of a man where he beat me tied me up with a little note saying "Only used one hand"."

He gave a small grimace

"Though I'm sure he used two. I still thank god Phineus found me before day break."

A cheeky grin cracked the grimace and he added

"The tradition is not officially approved by the knights yet they watch the results carefully all the same to find the most daring and valiant knights."

He rubbed his hands in glee and added

"I have done this over three years and always managed to end up with at least two banners in my home camp by dawn. I dont intend to break that tradition."

"So how best to defend our banner brothers.. come we are going to be facing the combined forces of Phineus and Will and any other knights that come to call. Plus i have intention of ending up tied to a tree. If possible i intend to have both their banners in my camp"

(One react to these traditions which were previously unknown to you... then come up with a suggestion each on how best to defend the camp)... Say one thing at least though you can evaluate your brothers plans and attempt to find the best methods.

You have anything you can get your hands on at your disposal and if you need more your peasants can provide. Be creative and also discuss how you would split your forces and who you would take with you. think about size and strength.. sentries perhaps... diversion... I dont know but you definitely want to have a sizeable defence... you dont want to wake up on the morn of the tournament tied to a tree and looking foolish infront of all the knights.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

A joint raid upon their camp, how intriguing he thought to himself. The other Lances would come for their Standard, and Bors would make sure he would be at the fore front of holding them back. He could lend his bulk to the fighting, and that was what he planned to do. He stepped forwards and said “We could use the smaller more nimbler members of the Lance as a lure, pull them in to the larger ones and get rid of each of the opposing Lances one at a time. We could also divide, half goes for the Flag the other half keeps their defenders occupied”.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

So this was to be a game, a test of wits and not only strength, this was going to be fun indeed. William knew his father would most definately be on the lookout for how well he and his lance did in this little jaunt, he would show that he was just as good as outsmarting his opponents as his father. What could they do though? They most certainly had to protect thier banner that was a given, but they could also send a few out to go and find others.

Diversions could be done but it would take too long to set many good ones up in his opinion, maybe just a really good one to delay their enemies, a mock banner maybe? William scratched his chin as he thought out what they could do as Bors spoke on taking part in defending their banner and sending others out for a diversion. A good plan was starting to form in his head now, Asmodeus and Bors were the biggest ones here and would do the most good defending the banner with two or three others. Meanwhile the others split up into two groups, the first would be the diversionary group gaurding the fake banner, led by Arcazon to add to the cherade, the other would go out on the hunt and would have to be the quicker ones of the lance.

After Bors was finished William spoke up, *"I agree with Bors in that we need a diversion and that some of us must defend the banner. I propose we split into three groups to accomplish what must be done, the first would be defending our banner, I vote for Bors and Asmodeus to be in this group, they are the biggest out of all of us and will be accompanied by at least two others. The other group will serve as a distraction, we could use a fake banner to lure those who seek it away from the real one, Lord I believe that if you are there it will aid in their belief that it is the actual banner they seek. The last group will have to be small and quick and go out for other banners to bring back to our camp."*

William stood and waited for the others to speak and still went over what else they could do to keep their banner safe.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

"a Challenge" exclaimed Denelias, thinking, this would be a great opportunity to show his worth to the others, he would be very happy to capture a banner this night, it would be a great honour. "I would like to be part of the attacking force, since i am one of the smallest here, i would like to have that honour, if nobody objects to me going?"


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Upon hearing the announcement of the unsanctioned game to be played soon by all the younger knights; Guy decided that now would be time to come forward with what he knew.

_"My lord, some of the more senior knights may look at these events for the most valiant or courageous but I believe that this time more will look at it with nothing but contempt and anger. My father in his letter warned me of this, that many of the knights will not take kindly to the games that will take place tonight."_ Guy finished before moving in close to his gallant so that only he could hear. _"Their displeasure will be most directed at you if my father's warning is to be true my gallant."_


Turning away Guy knew that informing the others of the warning would earn him no favour with the lance, especially not with Bors, William, and Denelias all but frothing at this whole idea. Sighing, Guy knew that if he was to take the head of this group he would need them to not hate him from the start, they could do that later.

_"The warning be damned,"_ he said through clenched teeth, the words a lie though only he knew that, _"we are a lance, we act as one. If we are to do this then I to would be in the attacking group."_


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

Asmodeus had been silently listening to Guy addressing their Gallant before Bors, William, Denelias and then Guy, dropped in their tactical suggestions.

Asmodeus himself didn't fear retribution from the other Knights. From his Father's letter he had the impression that this was an unofficial 'trail by fire', or harmless fun if nothing else. He grinned as he thought, he was extremely eager for this, even if it did garner some ill favour from more of the uptight Lords.

He saw this as a game more than anything, a chance for fun while perhaps an opportunity to have a little glory.

'I'll volunteer myself for the attacking group, though to be truthful, I wouldn't mind staying back either.' He grinned 'Nothing like having a gaggle of Errant Knights tied around our banner in the morning.'

He looked between Bors and William. 'The idea of a fake banner is a good one, though that means we need three teams, as you said. To utilise a Fake banner we would have to move our Real banner. And even then we are using some of our own as a complete distraction, I personally wont ask any to do that task.'

He was lost in thought for a moment before he spoke again.

'Friends, I'm interested on hearing your opinions in this matter, I'm more than comfortable to take the attack, defend or even take the Fake Banner out with me, on my own.'

'Though for defence I suggest leaving two of the smaller members in plain sight, leaving the larger to hide ready to counter attack.'


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

For one reason or another, Guy had originally missed mention of a fake banner, but when Asmodeus spoke of it, a look a pure disgust crossed Guy's features. _"Fake banner? What are we spineless peasants!"_ Guy could not keep himself from spitting the last word. _"We are a lance of errant knights, the shield and sword of Bretonnia; using a false banner is beneath us. I will willingly cast aside the warning I have been given and shared with you all but I will not lower myself to such an act. Nor will I willingly stand by as others so flagrant cast such shame on ourselves and our father's."_


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias had to agree with Guy on this idea, that it would be cowardly and weaken them in the eyes of the other lances. "friends i think Guy is correct in this, why would we want to look cowardly and weak in the eyes of our superiors and other errants, i would not want this to happen to us", Denelias stated, "what has happened to the honour of war without such cowardly tactics"


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William had come to the conclusion earlier that Guy was going to be one of the many pompous Noble's sons that thought he knew the meaning of life and how to live it and that everybody else was inferior. Truly he did not care about this as long as it did not get them all killed in battle or even one of them, with his recent outburst he could tell that this was going to be one hell of a ride. Apparently it was cowardly to outsmart an opponent, and courageous to mount a full out assault when they knew next to nothing on thier enemies and what they were doing.

Well it was truly all up to Arcazon and what he wanted to do but William had to speak up anyway, he would not allow this prick to call him a coward, *"So please tell me how using a distraction such as this is cowardice, I would like to understand your reasoning, I was under the impression that it was good to outsmart your opponents. Or should we just have no plan at all and run about like chickens with our heads cut off? In case you did not notice at least TWO lances will be attacking out banner tonight and likely both at the same time. Excuse me for saying this friends, and I am sure you will understand, but that will be a losing battle for whoever we leave there to protect the banner from the start. So unless you have a better distraction in mind I stand by my plan, you do not lead this lance Arcazon does and he will decide what we do."*

William knew that goading Guy like this with a sarcastic tone was not smart but he did not care, he would not fight alongside someone like this and truthfully did not care if they ever got along. He just wanted Guy to know that he would not tolerate his crap.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Vaz and Sarcasm still waiting on your post from two updates ago


Arcazon watched the unfolding conflict and held back a small smile as the lance struggled for dominance, asserting there status within the lance. Every lance he had been in had had this period where they were divided before they were forced to unite in the grounds of war. When the blood flowed and the screams began the lance tended to be forged in the flames of war, bonded in death.

He watched William stand up against the pompous guy and he felt curiosity and he was tempted to allow the argument to continue to see how Guy would react yet Vilhelm's position was on fragile ice. He listened to Williams words and saw his eyes were clear and honest and he realised that William was more angry at Guy's sarcastic and pompous tone and it had inflamed him. In truth Arcazn didn't like it much either yet Guy appeared to be the stronger and more honourable candidate.

"The idea is tactically strong and we are facing adverse situations. It would compromise my honour to fake a banner, I will not risk casting doubt upon this lance.. we will meet them head on however we have the advantage that we know they are coming."

However Guys words about his father nagged at his mind and he began to frown and he said his thoughts allowed

"I do not want to anger your father but I have absolutely no choice. If we do not participate we will end up tied up when they attack us in our sleep and I would not care to add cowardice to that humiliation. Our enemies are coming and we must meet them. Now to business."


"They will expect us to be unaware of there attack yet their camps are close together so we know the general direction they will be coming from. I am very tempted to step out and meet them. Hit them when they are trying to be quiet and coming for us, they may be so complacent they may not see us. Leave three of us to guard the banner whilst the rest of us hit them as hard as possible. If we catch them by surprise we may be able to take down their strike force before they reach us. Then we can take both banners by overwhelming the forces they left behind to defend. The one thing I know about Will and Phineus is they are brothers in arms but very competitve. They want to beat each other as much if not more than me. It is very possible they will ambush each other and take each other out."

He suddenly looked at the sun and his face paled and you all look to see it is almost sun set

"We must enter ourselves into the tournament. "Talk as you ride brothers. I am still eager to hear your suggestions of how we should approach this problem, especially you" he added nodding towards Guy before smiling

"Think of it as a test" he whispered before calling out to the two that had meandered down the hill

"We are riding out now"

(Both of you do the update if you can and move up the hill, mount up and allow the others to fill you in on the upcoming raid... add your thoughts to the discussion)

You ride on through the mish mash of tents and to the castle gates where you dismount and move as a group Arcazon at the head. He doesnt not look at you but you may notice that he is a little drawn around the eyes and his mouth is a tense terse line.

Then as you move to step into the castle you notice 5 surley looking knights errant standing by the door and they step across it barring Arcazon's path. They are of similar ages to Arcazon yet 3 of them are much taller though in there armour they dont seem as broad. The middle steps forward to meet Arcazon calling out to him

"De vala... look at you at the head of a bunch of pussy cats"
Arcazon opens his mouth yet a second steps forward
"Yeah no valour in all of them"
There is a hearty guffaw yet Arcazon stays staring ahead
"Honestly our little wing boy de vala at the head of this pack of dogs, i bet they'll turn tail and run"

(These knights are taking slurs at your honour and though they are bigger, taller. older and more experienced than you and each of them looks as though they are ready to take to a fight with several hands curled into fists or lingering over sword hilts. Are you going to except the challenge and take the fight back to them or let them walk all over you and allow Arcazon to handle this... you can see several knights looking curiously out from the castle at you... is it professional to start a brawl or an argument in front of them? )


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias was buzzing in rage, he looked at these Errants in disgust, how dare they insult him and his friends without seeing them in the battlefield, calling them cowards and dogs, walking forward, Denelias called to these bastards with a friendly smile "friends, why do you insult us, without seeing us on the battlefield, is it because you are not sure of your own skills, thus have to take it out on others? are you weak and cowardly on the battle, have you no skills an are afraid of the enemy so you have to redeem yourself in your own eyes, in fact i think you are the pussy cats and dogs cowering back to their masters, because you can't stand up to those at the same ranking as you, you have to insult those lower than you just because we haven't been in the fires of wars, i bet in the wars you've been in you cowered behind the front line, and hid away so the enemy didn't find you?" thus he finished with a small smile upon his lips, letting them know he wasn't afraid of scum like them, showing them that he had outsmarted the, and both groups knew it, and that the rumour would spread that these men had been outsmarted by a newly formed errant, that they hadn't been able to figure out a smart reply to say back, it would destroy their honour in the eyes of their friends, and they deserved it, having called upon such a measure was necessary to replace the honour they had tried to take with even more honour, and the best thing was, when he looked into their eyes, that they knew they had been outsmarted, and had lost the verbal war, the only way to recover their honour was to start fighting, which Denelias was confident of the odds, ten warriors against five, they would lose and we will win.

Denelias looked into the eyes of these errant and knew he had pissed them off, that they would probably attack him and he would have to fend them away, hopefully his friends would help him in this rivalry, to and just a tiny more insult to injury, he walked up much closer and spat at the ground before them before turning his back on them and walking back to his lance with his hand on the hilt of his blade, ready to draw if he needed to.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William could see why Arcazon and the prick Guy would see the fake banner as dishonourable, they were not from where he was from, they did not have to fight for their lives every day on the edge of the kingdom. While he was expecting a slap from Arcazon or worse it never came and he realized he must have said or done something that had pleased him, his guess was that Guy was not going to be a popular lad unless he changed his attitude.

As they mounted up again he put his helm on, the red horse hair plume rippling in the breeze, and patted Seig as they moved on toward the castle. Once they dismounted and made their way to the gates a group of fairly large knights errant confronted them, according to them they saw dogs and whelps in all of the members of his lance.

William was going to keep his mouth shut because of the watching knights above them, but Denelias had let his anger get the best of him and even spit on the ground in front of them. William sighed a bit and moved forward next to Denelias and squared his shoulders keeping his voice calm cool and collected, *"Friends you question our honor yet you have seen none of us fight. While I do believe that all of you can hold your own in the face of death itself, for how could you not, I propose a challenge between us and you. I take it that you have entries in the tournie yes? Whoever's lance advances the most contestants before the tournie is over wins yes? We restore the honor you seek to besmudge when we win and you realize that we are not cowards, a good challenge no? After all if you back down now how could you be seen as true warriors when you backed away from a challenge against such new recruits?" *

William was talking fast now and doing it purposely because he had guessed a few of these men were a bit on the slow side, and as he finished he knew he was right by the looks on some of their faces. This had been the best way to confront the situation especially after Denelias had spoken up and dishonored the knights, they could not have turned away after that. While his voice showed that he wanted the challenge and that the other knights should also accept it, his stance was a whole other deal, his feet placed a little past shoulder width and his hand ready to take his sword in an instant.


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

As the older knights taunted and jabbed at their pride, Guy could only roll his eyes at the attempt. Like any of them, even the fool William, would fall for such a bait.

Denelias's words, and then his actions, proved otherwise and Guy had to try hard to hold back his shock. As if on cue, the fool William jumped forward to back up Denelias, a noble trait for any knight, especially given that Denelias had put himself before the entire other lance, but just as foolish.


_"They must be right."_ Guy said, _"There have to be dogs in our lance, to go running forward and bearing their teeth at each and every possible insult tossed their way."_ He said this, specifically referring to Denelias and William, knowing that from the latter's outburst before he would take Guy's words as the implied insult he meant them to be. _"But then again, only dogs go barking at other dogs."_ Guy finished, a small smile on his face.

If he had guessed right, goading these knights like this might lead to them rushing forward. If he had been taught anything it was definitely that regardless of how much experience you possessed, allowing your emotions to blind and force your actions left you exposed. Guy thought of this, and put his own hand on the pommel of his blade.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

Asmodeus had been riding somewhat central to the group, chatting with no real purpose to Bors. He'd be trying to get to know the members of the lance, honour was a powerful tool, but he'd always like to add 'friend' to the titles of the Knight watching his flank.

He had to admit, he hadn't really been paying attention to where they were going. The halting of the lance was the first thing that alerted him to the presence of the older knights.

Asmodeus' boyish grin didn't leave his face throughout the whole exchange, the words of the knights pattered off him like soft rain.

-_Seriously? How old are we, Eight?_-

Guy's tone of voice and word choice told him that he'd been thinking something similar. He felt his own smirk deepen somewhat after hearing his words.

His hand hovered over the small hilt of a dagger near his waist, just encase these Knights decided to increase the depth of their own stupidity. The dagger... Not his favourite weapon, though it was a lot faster and less ostentatious than drawing his Claymore.

Asmodeus kept silent, watching the scene unfold. Should Guy look in his direction he'd see he was silently prepared.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Bors simply ignored the older Knights and their comments, Nasib breathing heavily beneath his large bulk. He looked over at Asmodeus and tapped him on the shoulder saying “This gets rather tiresome rather quick, they fight with the other Knights while we should be striking new friendships” His tone went quieter before he continued “We are being watched, and these Knights are making fools of themselves”. 

With that he kicked into Nasib who rode forwards, he walked the horse around the Knights and stopped when he reached their front saying “Fellow Knights, I am Bors of House Palamedes and on my behalf I would like this petty infighting to end. Will you, more experienced Knights let yourselves be embarrassed by insulting us? I thought you were more well trained than that” He returned back to Asmodeus and nodded, crossing his arms.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Guys I'm moving this on quicker than I would normally but I think its time to get stuck in)


Some of the knights in the doorway turn to look yet they do not intefere and you can see fleeting smiles and here little comments about the impetuousness of youth.

The knights errants that taunt you seem to revel in your insults and though you see small signs of smiles they move forward past Arcazon to face up against you. They stand taller and so you look down at you and you meet there gazes as you go now to nose. You hear the sound of blades sliding a tiny way from sheaths... Will you back down... of course not.. you slide your own blades a tiny way yet suddenly the knights turn away to face Arcazon and you see a beaming smile upon his face.

Your shocked, he is leaning at ease despite the imminent thread to his squad and he gives a little chuckle

"It seems I have lions in my lance do i not"

The smallest of the other lance gives a hearty guffaw and he claps Denelias upon his shoulder

"Very true... especially this one.." he mutters before turning to embrace Arcazon leaving all of you standing and staring as he clasps forearms and embraces the older members that had just insulted you.

You slide your blades back into there sheaths and the older knights turn and laugh at your astounded faces and Astelan steps forward yet before he can make a comment another voice cuts over you

A knight has stepped from the group and William you obviously recognise your own father Wilhelm yet the others may take a little more time to recognise the same insignia. His voice is deep and heavy with amusement

"Once again you have been subject to an errantry test. It is a tradition for some of the older knights to test the valour and bravery of the new knights errant, and see which are the lions and which are the mice. Boys your eyes are currently taking in Arcazon's old lance including there gallant Liam de Viston"

The smallest of the older knights (bearing a shield of red striped with blue behind a fleur de lys) gives a little bow and you see the bond between him and Arcazon is strong from the respect in your gallants gaze. 

Wilhelm gives a little laugh before turning to Arcazon and indicating the scroll in his hand

"I take it that is your tournament entries" and he beckons for Arcazon to give it to him. He surrenders it willingly and Wilhelm moves away as the 6 older knights (5 plus arcazon) approach you giving little jibes most of them aimed at Denelias and Asmodeus, whose insults they appeared to appreciate most.

The knights look less surly and friendly grins cross there faces yet as the light dies away and dusk begins to fall you can see that Arcazon is growing more and more concerned.

One of the older knights picks up on it and says quickly

"Worried about Will and Phineus's raid tonight?"

Arcazon starts and stares

"How do you know... and how do you know I know?"

"The letter.. didn't you think it was a bit convenient"

"well yes but peasants are incompetent at best"

"Listen to me and you know I speak the truth"

"Liam to you lying is one of the great stains on a mans honour... you would never let a falsehood through your lips"

"Exactly now shut up and listen. That note was sent deliberately,a warning of their union. Will and Phineus both know that your lance with you at the head will beat there mice hands down. So they want the odds stacked firmly in their favour but they want you to be aware, they dont want there victory to be a hollow one. They will come for you early in the night and only keep two men to guard their camps and be sending 14 against you. Arcazon you need more men"

"How do you know this."

"Phineus asked me to join him before he asked Will... he told me the plan"

Arcazon smiled before riposting

"Then..why are you telling me this?"

"I want to go for the record Arcazon"

"The record..its impossible"

In answer to your unasked question Liam turns to you

"The record was set long ago by a lance of errantry knights lead by the Lord of Quenelles when he was a boy and including some of the greatest knights Quenelles has ever seen. Each one of those knights has supped from the Ladies grail and though two lie dead there achievements are the stuff of legends.

On the first night of an errantry war they ended with 11 banners and their own flying high in their camp, it is rumoured at the end of the knight they rushed out. It is an achievement that has never been matched. To match it or best it would set an errantry knight amongst the stars."

"If we unite we can best Will and Phineus and take their banners in one easy swoop and then send our own strike force out to attack other camps. By 6 we can easily keep our own banners safe and take 11 others. Then at the very break of dawn we line all the banners up and fight for them. Thus our good friend their..." He nods at William

"Will have the chance to prove his mettle. The best lance will end in glory the worse will end in shame... unless you are mice after all"

The quandry is clear and so is the challenge. You are facing a joint battle which you cannot win without aid... yet these knights are stronger and more experienced than you and so in the final battle you may well fall. Yet their is a chance if slim that you may defeat them.. they may well underestimate you and that may be their weakness.

You can tell Arcazon is thinking hard and he tilts his head to one side before extending a hand and responding in a cool calm voice

"I accept" 

The two shake hands and together you ride back through the camp... each of you thinking about the upcoming battle... are you excited... nervous...or do you think Arcazon was wrong and that you could have handled the situation better

As you ride you can see defences being built all over the camps and torches being lit and banners rising to the top fluttering in the breeze as the moon shines down. There is no longer a rambling sprawl of tents and the camps are now tight back and compact in readiness for the assault and you now understand why Arcazon had choosen a camp so distant and so isolated... this not only shows you he has tactical ability but is also obsessed with this competition.

Through out the night you work creating a perimeter around the camp using lances, tent poles and tables to create barricades. Rope and reigns have been used to lash them together whilst the banner flies high above a small fire which you have built up. The general idea was an isoceles triangle with one short side (where the horses are kept) and two long sides surrounding a small circle of tents around them so the camp is dual layered and if the first wall is over run you have a second stand point. 

Your numbers have swollen by 1 with the last member of your lance arriving just as you were raising the banner (ignore him he is of no importance) and lighting a fire in the centre of the camp. You now number 14 and your assailants will be 14 so confidence is high. You have each been paired up and given a small part of the perimeter to defend yet you have a free reign to redeploy if someone else looks like they are in trouble.

*Guy and Amodeus:* for obvious reasons Arcazon placed you together and you have been gifted the right side with two more experienced knights... it is the most open side and you can see until the darkness cuts off your vision. It is also the general direction from which the enemy should be coming. You both know this is a competition but it doesnt stop you whispering to each other whilst both of you strives to beat the other and see the first sign. The sign is much less subtle than you expected. You hear the sound of running feet and about 50 metres away Phineus (who you recognize) and a group of knights burst from the darkness shouting wildly and rushing towards the walls. Brace yourselves and warn the others... the group is large but they are moving to fast to count but its certainly about 10...and there are only four of you... i think you might need to call for aid. Guy as you call Bors will slip in beside you if he makes to throw a stone or some other dishonourable act... you must stop him for to do so would make this defense dishonourable

Bors and Arcazon: Arcazon immediately told you that you were with him.. is this the weak and the strong or maybe for no reason at all. You stand at the tip of the triangle and are meant to act like a mobile strike force. Talk to Arcazon if you wish yet you hear Guy and Asmodeus's call for aid and look eagerly to assist them... Arcazon deigns for you to go and you slip in beside Guy as the knights are 10 feet away. I have a feeling you are the sort to throw a stone or something at the enemy. If you are make to do so... if you do Guy will stop you.

William and Denelias: Liam placed you together with a rhy smile and set you to guard the left side with Bors and Arcazon on your right at the very tip of the triangle and two of the older knights on your left. You are looking out over some shrubbery that could provide a fair amount of cover for enemies moving towards you. You hear Guy and Asmodeus's call for aid... do you abandon your post and go aid... the area on your side appears clear and you see Bors sprinting away though Arcazon remains eyes fixed upon your side of the treeline

Robert and Lucas: You are placed together simply as you both haven't posted.. When one of you sends me a pm I will update you. in the meantime you are stationed on the short side overlooking the horses, though your attention is elsewhere. If someone enters the paddock with the horses he will disturb them.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William had wanted so badly to simply punch Guy right in the face and break his nose but he knew that even though he was born and raised out on the borderlands that he was still a noble and that Guy was too and to slap him around a bit would most certainly not help either of them. He had to admit he was not surprised when he saw his father step out from the group that was harrassing them, somehow he knew that his father would have had to be in one of his coming tests, he would not have been able to resist.

His father had winked at him as they left and he knew that he had done well in at least his father's eyes. Now he and Denelias were standing watching their side for any foes that were heading toward them when they heard Guy and Asmodeus cry out, William put his hand on Denelias's shoulder, *"Stay put, enemies will most assuredly attempt this route and if we move they win."*


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias gritted his teeth, he wanted to be in this fight, but as William had said, he must stay put, defend this side of the barrier, to control his urge to run into the fight and break some noses, Denelias thought back to the test to see if the lance was honorable, he was glad he had retaliated so venomously, he must have certainly got the top mark of the lance for that, but he was also glad that he hadn't been smashed into a little pulp by these stronger warriors, also that they had laughed at his comments, that he hadn't really insulted anyone, but most of all, some of those errants had respected him for what he had said, at the courage he had shown grinning at his thoughts, Denelias turned to William, and said "Friend where do you come from? I come from the village of Seimeria"


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

As night ever crept on them all, Guy looked to Asmodeus while they waited for the attack that would be coming. The past events of the day raced through his mind, especially the one of the older knights and the trick of it that was the work of lord Tolle. The man had only been amongst them for scant minutes, but Guy could tell that his son William was a spitting image of his father, barely a knight by true standards. 

"What say you of all that has happened Asmodeus?" Guy finally asked, hoping at the very least to distract his brother knight so that he could be the one to spot their attackers once they showed themselves.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

The two had been standing in what must have been complete silence. Asmodeus cringed inwardly at the silence. Sure it was more practical, they'd be able to hear their attackers coming. But with _nothing_ to measure the time by, he couldn't tell whether they'd been standing there for minutes or hours.

He tilted his head when Guy spoke, but kept his eyes fixed into the darkness. The days events played through his mind. It had been quite a long day, between the sign up and everything else that has happened.

'It's been a fairly interesting day. I think we have quite an, _intriguing_ group.' he smiled, still looking into the inky blackness. 'Knew something was up concerning the Knights who tried to insult us, that was not normal behaviour from anyone more intelligence than two rocks, certainly not a supposed knight.' He paused again.

'Curious they chose to stand with us, our Gallant is an interesting subject as well. I'm simply rolling with what comes at us, what do you make of this day?'


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Inwardly Guy smiled, he was glad that Asmodeus had noticed that as well. It was good to see that the likes of William Tolle were in the vast minority, and that real knights were vieing for the lances head.

_"As you say, today has been 'interesting'."_ Guy echoed, thinking upon his next words, weighing whether he should speak them or not. Asmodeus had asked him in return though, and if he with held from a lancemate then how could he ever hope of being honest when he went on his quest.

_"Tolle troubles me, he was amongst the first to jump for the cowards approach. We cannot allow ourselves to make due with such dishonourable methods and I have a feeling he will be amongst the first to try for such a thing."_ He said before something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. _"Did you see anything just now?"_


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

Asmodeus was considering Guys words, William was certainly, _different_. Though the knight did not seem like a coward. Either way, dishonourable acts before the eyes of their superiors was never a good thing. He was pondering a suitable response when the Knights tone shifted in urgency. The two fell into a void like silence as they both strained to catch any signs of being approached.

Asmodeus was staring into blackness, trying to pull something from the inky darkness. Though it was sound, not sight, that spoiled the secrecy of their attackers. Extremely faintly at first, but quickly rising in volume, was the patter of feet. They were moving too fast and out of sync for him to tell their number, but it was certainly more than a few.

'There.' Their attackers burst into their vision in more of an unruly mob than anything else. The gloom and their speed made it hard to tell how many of them there was, but they outnumbered himself, Guy and the other two nights. He began to look for the most effective place to defend from, judging by where the enemy was coming and how many.

Asmodeus smiled in the night 'There's more than eight of them coming this way.' He knew Guy would be able to figure out the implications for himself.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Bors was in a nervous state. He adorned a simple black and white checkered robe that flowed into the worn out ground his feet rested upon, dirtying the flipping tips. A cold breeze touched his over sized throat, the fat there barely keeping away the cold. He shivered, rubbing his bare hands together at a speed that someone would think a man, or rather young adult, of such a size would not be able to move at. 

He heard someone call his name, and turned to see several of his new Lance standing before the enemy team. He without thinking, moved forwards at a trot, upon the tips of his toes he came up next to Guy and stared at the others before him, causing him to crumple his brow, his foot tapping upon a rock below him, his fingers clenching and unclenching, causing his knuckles to turn white like paper. He scratched his ear, rubbing it and said “Come and get it you little bastards”.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Ok guys with you 5 i intend to try move this on quickly as Vaz and Sarcasm are history thanks for sticking with me
__________________________________________________________________

*Asmodeus, Guy Bors*: The charging warriors roar and the silence breaks yet you stand strong. Bors in the centre Guy on his left Asmodeus on his right, the older warriors fanning out around you. You now count 10 of the expected 14 running rag tag. 

Guy: You feel Liam nustle in beside you, slightly smaller yet despite the difference in size and strength he holds a presence that washes over the other errants around you.

He looks straight forward eyeing the approaching horde with a casual eye and suddenly over the roar he whispers so only you can here

"Arcazon doesn't like you."

You look round maybe in sharp surprise or merely stunned by his truthful attitude but he merely nods his head indicating you need to keep your eye on the ball. You turn back and the warriors have moved ever closer and he continues

" However he respects you... i have a feeling you dont give a shit if your liked.. i like that... but you'll need your a game when you lead the assaults. Just a few thoughts"

The huddle of warriors are still bunched together aiming directly for you Liam, Bors and Asmodeus as they approach and you can see that the first sprinting warriors are matching up against you.The words are lost from your mouth as you find a huge bear of a mans eyes lock with yours and he draws his finger over his throat and indicates to the rope wound round his wrist. The gap closes and you draw some comfort in the fact that he still has to get over the barricade. Your wrong... the man takes 3 strides and dives over the cluster of boxes and tackles you round the waist the wind is knocked out of you as he pushes you backwards yet instead of landing on top of you he slips over you.

Your winded yet he is bigger and takes longer to get up so you have a few seconds to make your move.... to take down such a man would be an auspicious start especially as you can see the older knights moving in to aid you.... do you tell them to back off?

Attack the man but it will take more than one post to finish him

Bors: The huddle of warriors are still bunched together aiming directly for you Liam,Guy and Asmodeus as they approach and you can see that the first sprinting warriors are matching up against you. The man that locks with you is a small skinny new errant and as the bear of a man dives flattening Guy he takes it slower trying to hop the fence. He stands above you on the top of the fence and aims a kick at your face duck, him and take him down. He is much smaller than you and off balance from his kick so you can easily take him down. Yet as you move to tie him down with the rope around your wrist a second man kicks one of the boxes and pushes you off him. The box is fairly heavy yet you need to push it off and flatten first the opponent that you have already taken down and this new assailant who is older and stronger than you. What will you do?

Asmodeus: The huddle of warriors are still bunched together aiming directly for you Liam, Bors and Guy as they approach . The man that approaches you is a new errantry knight as tall and strong as you. He unlike many of the others that are mounting the defences and trying to assail from height decides to take a swing at you from the other side of the barricade. You are surprised by the manouvere and you are forced to leap back giving him the space to hop over. However as he hops over it gives you the time to press the advantage... attack him.. it will take at least two posts to subdue him

*Denelias and William*: You hear a rustling in the bushes and you see a face appear before withdrawing. You move to shout yet a hand clamps over your mouth stiffling the shout. As you fall you see Robert and Lucas (Vaz and sarcasm) struggling against bonds and gags. Though you struggle the men holding you are far to strong 

Denelias: You thrash against the man and you feel his grip loosen slightly as he tries to slip a rope round your wrist and you twist your head and your mouth comes free and you call out. The rope tightens and suddenly your free and you see your captor writhing upon the ground Arcazon's fist pummeling into his stomach as he struggles to gain a grip. You stand up to help but suddenly you see another two men rushing from the bushes. William is struggling with his captor... the other two are about 20 meters away. Your decision .. help William (read his update but you might not free him) do you move to attack the other two or help Arcazon. Decide and complete and attack but leave it open ended ill decide on the outcome of your attack


William: You hear Denelias cry out and your captor hesitates. He has already managed to tie your wrists and is merely tightening the knots. the hesitation allows you to elbow your captor in the stomach and he stumbles backwards. Pulling your arms apart allows you to free your wrists yet as you push yourself onto your front your assailant launches himself onto you pinning your left wrist. Try free yourself... attack him but leave it open ended as I will decide the response. If Denelias helps you obviously incorporate that

Enjoy and thanks for sticking with me


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias shouted out "help over, he..." just before his mouth was covered by a hand, and the other hand was trying to grab his wrists with a rope.

Suddenly the errant was thrown off him, as he saw Arcazon bowl over the man and swing at his head, scoring a glancing blow, Denelias looked around seeing William free his hands but get tackled and half pinned. 

A shout alerted Denelias to down the hill, where two more errants were running up the hill towards them, Denelias struggled, Arcazon didn't need help, he was experianced enough to fend for himself, so it was a choice between helping William and freeing him, so they could both take on the newcomers, or trying to stop, them while Reinforcements came.

Denelias made a decision in a split second, he shouted at the top of his lungs "we need backup over here" before running over towards William and tackling the errant off him and swinging towards his face, the man turned his head slightly so Denelias' fist connected with the mans skull, making Denelias grimace in pain in his knuckles


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Bors’ heart skipped a beat when he saw the enemy team charge. His fists suddenly came up ready to punch, as he saw a small skinny Errant lock eyes with him, his high cheek bones nearly completely obscuring his small beady eyes. He leapt up onto the fence, full of confidence, his arms spread eagled to keep his balance. He kicked outwards, and Bors ducked quickly, his right arm coming out and grabbing the ankle of the man. 

A shocked expression appeared on his face, his arms now shaking up and down as he attempted to keep his balance. Bors lunged forwards, grabbing his ankle tightly and twisted, bringing the man down onto his gut, knocking the air out with a jerk. He slipped over onto his gut, and Bors began to wrap the rope wrapped around his wrist around the mans legs when a large wooden box struck him in the side, he huffed as a pair of thick hands gripped him and caused him to fall. 

The box pressed down on him, and Bors struggled against its weight, gripping the edges furthest away from him he threw it onto the floor next to him and pulled himself up, as the smaller of his attackers struck him in the gut twice. Both hits caused Bors pain, yet he lifted himself to full height, dwarfing the man. 

Using his weight he grabbed his throat and twisted the man around, holding him between his fore and upper arm he pulled it together in a cutting movement and began to shut off his air supply. When the man began to claw on his arm, Bors pushed him forwards into the fence with a loud clump and knocked the other Errant out. 

The older Knight, who was slightly larger than Bors, grinned at him and revealed a line of broken teeth, evidently from brawls similar to this or even the ravages of war. He punched outwards, and struck Bors across the jaw, causing him to step backwards. He returned the punch, however his fist was grabbed and spun, Bors falling to the ground and kicking up dust as he did so. A foot came down on his chest, and Bors kicked upwards with both feet, striking the man in the midsection and pushing him over the fence onto his fence. 

The Errant Knight leapt over, his rope sliding around the mans ankles and began to tie him up.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William had been surprised at how quickly the assault had been launched on his and Denelias's side but was certainly no stranger to quickness, unfortunately for him the man who had attacked him was much larger then he was and pinned him quickly tieing his wrists up. Yet as Denelias yelled for aide his captor hesitated and he elbowed him swiftly in the gut causing him to stumble backwards. William tore his wrists apart, breaking his bonds, and made to push himself up before being tackled again and toppling to the ground, his left hand pinned by his assailant. 

He had only a few seconds before suddenly the weight was off of him and he turned to see Denelias had tackled the errant. Getting up quickly he noticed two more attackers rushing their position, those two could wait for a second or two while he helped Denelias dispatch this fool.

He saw Denelias's fist connect with the man's face and William rushed in to help, pulling back his leg he kicked the man straight in the head.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

-_Definitely coming this way_-

The knot of warriors were definitely heading straight for their small collected defence, he could feel his heart rate increase, this wouldn't be easy. As they group of attackers neared the barricade, each warrior seemed to lock eyes with one of the defenders, picking out their targets.

Asmodeus met the eyes of his duelling partner, he was running so it was hard to tell, but he looked very similar in size and shape to the young Errant knight. Asmodeus edged closer to the barrier as the attacking knight closed the last few metres, he felt his body tense up as he tried to anticipate the moves of his assailant.

Though rather than quickly trying to climb the fence, the errant knight swiped over the cover, Asmodues only just recoiling in time. By the time he had righted himself the attacking knight had just touched down on their side. Mind racing, Asmodeus wasted no time in pressing the attack.

With his left hand he grabbed the collar of the knight and his right hand took hold of the knights right hand sleeve. Asmodeus twisted his body to the right, his left leg stepped in front of the knight so his back pressed firmly against the attackers front. With a quick shout, Asmodues pulled his left hand sharply around, dragging the knight onto his hip. He quickly bent his knees and shot back up to full height, still pulling with his left hand and pushing his right hand into the knights collar in a large wheel turning motion. The speed and momentum dragged the attacking knight over his shoulder to land flat backed on the earth. Asmodues left hand still holding the attacking knights right sleeve.


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Rolling onto his stomach and scrabbling to get back on his feet, Guy gets a good look at the man that had just barreled into him. Big, sturdy, and strong nothing that his father didn't possess, and nothing that hadn't been thrown at him in the past. Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, Guy put an arm out to stop any others from coming to his aid. _"Stop the others, let them come to their friend's aid and bring him shame; I will not be the first to have it on me."_ He called out before circling the larger knight, watching him as best he could in the dark.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Guy: The huge knight snarls at you huge flecks of spit spraying at him as you circle.

"Cocky are we"

A meaty fist flicks out in a jab crossing the circle easily forcing you to step back increasing your distance as you weigh him up. He is bigger and stronger than you but you realise from his rage filled eyes that he could easily be goaded into a mistake. Bite back at him ,retort wind him up to the point where you having him boiling over with rage.

Suddenly his rage breaks and he rushes forward, fist flying towards your face but in his rage the blows are easy for you to avoid, yet you can tell by the speed with which they flash past your face that a single one will floor you and then the battle is over. He is coming on at you like a train forcing you backwards towards the barriers as you avoid his blows. Your going to have to act quickly or your going to be up against the barrier, remember the bigger they are the harder they fall. What you choose to do will seriously effect not only your own fate but the fate of the whole lance so choose wisely.

Asmodeus: The judo throw works yet the flailing legs of your assailant collide with the knee of one of the older knights and as he yells in pain his opponent, a small piggy eyed man, seizes his chance knocking him to the floor and winding rope round his wrists. The man you hold is dazed and confused so you could easily bind his wrists yet If you dont act immediately the older knight will be bound and it will be a stain upon his honour. The choice is yours, bind your opponent and then try and save the older knight with his assailant unoccupied or take advantage and save the older knight, friends in high places are always useful however this may give the knight you are gripping time to come back at you whilst you deal with the new threat?


Bors: As you finish tying the younger knight the older knight pushes himself up using the boxes, A groggy arm reaching out for you, sidestep the groggy attempt to subdue you and a single blow knocks him out cold and he bears no resistance as you wind a rope rund his legs. Your score is at two, older knight and younger both subdued and you smile at your achievement when you hear the voice of denelias yelling for aid and you look to see Arcazon and the two other errants frantically fighting. A tied man at there feet but two others already locked with them whislt Arcazon lets out a hollor of pain as the errant he is tying throws his head back to smash him in the face and he recoils. They need aid but as you rush towards them a figure steps across you in a body check. Your shoulders collide and you fall backwards to the floor, knocking all the breath from your body. You lie prone gasping and see Phineus standing above you a grin across his corpulent features. 

"Nice try boy" he whispers before adding to a second skinny errant "tie him up" The boy moves towards you yet the leader of the lance Liam rushes across you pushing the errant into Phineus, they stumble but remain on there feet and he holds down a hand to help you up. You are now fighting with one of the most experienced knights, a man that holds the respect of your lance. You take his hand yet as your fingers lock he winks.

With surprising strength he slings you across to send you colliding into Phineus and the new errant as they regain their balance, flattening the new errant and sending Phineus to the floor. 

Your obviously dazed and confused, regain your bearings and then finish off that flattened knights errant as you wish, he will put up a fight tho. In the end of this monster post do you rush to Denelias's aid or help Liam who is grappling with the much larger Phineus, would the delay be worth the help of an older knight or is the threat too great.

Willam: Give denelias your thanks as you tie up the assailant your blows knocking him out cold. A little banter between you would not go amiss and you cannot help but notice that Denelias is growing sterner and more confident as time goes on. Yet as you straighten up you come face to face with the approaching knights. They walk slowly measured kicking downthe barriers as you both rush towards them. You begin to circle.. the man facing you a young fresh faced errant who looks passive and friendly yet you cannot help but notice a deadly cold in his eyes. The contrast is almost frightening. Seize the initiative and attack first. Do a little duel sequence if you wish but leave your last crushing blow open ended.

Denelias:Willam will give you his thanks as you tie up the assailant as i said to him banter would be nice. As you straighten up you come face to face with the approaching knights. They walk slowly measured kicking downthe barriers as you both rush towards them. You square ofd. Vilhelm with a fresh faced lad... you by contrast with an older warrior with a huge scar in his cheek. He does not circle but lunges for you catching you off guard and getting a firm grip on your arm.. .your return blow swinging wide as he wrenches you downwards to your knees. Do a little duel sequence to riposte and get to your feet, gaining the upperhand as you press your greater agility avoiding his blows before striking back with softer but more accurate punches. As a strong blow to the temple knocks the older knight to his knees you hear Arcazon give a scream of pain as the man he is tying up throws his head back and headbutts him in the face and he screams, recoiling as blood gushes across his tunic. The hesitation is all the older knight needs and he reaches up gripping you in a headlock and pulling you to the ground. Worm your way free. (elbow to the gut is always good) and as you stand gasping you have a choice to make.. do you finish the warrior or aid Arcazon, who though agonized is still holding the rope binding on wrist with stoic determination... can he hold on... does he need help or is your current recovering assailant more pressing?

Enjoy everyone any questions or problems give me a shout
CH and WIlliam better update next time (bit short for you guys)


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

A smile of satisfaction was about to cross Asmodeus' lips as the Knight flew cleanly over him, though a short yelp of pain had him back on his toes. The knight he had thrown had clipped one of the older Errantry knights, a quick blow to the knee shocking him and leaving him open.

Barely had the older Knight fallen to his knee when one of their attackers moved in, eye gleaming and a short knot of rope held in his hands. A growl of annoyance rumbled from him as he glanced at his dazed opponent on the floor; a good clean take down. Though it seemed the honour of capturing his fallen foe was to be denied, he couldn't let one of his allies fall when he was perfectly capable of helping. 

Wasting no time he leapt forward, the piggy eyed vulture knight had his back to him, perfect. Asmodeus slipped his right arm in front of the knight and pulled the edge of his forearm up against his neck, placing his palm in the inside of his left arms elbow.

'Not today scavenger.' He squeezed his arms and tightened the choke, the knight flailed in surprised and lost his grip on the older knight he was attempting to tie. Asmodeus twisted them both to the right and fell into the piggy eyed knight, using his weight to knock him face first into the earth.

His hand shot to the rope and he nudged the older knight with his foot.

'Get up! I'm going to need your help any second now!' He quickly knotted his length of rope around the wrists of the piggy eyes knight, pulling the bonds tight. His heart racing as he expected an attack any second.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William wiped his hands together as he and Denelias tied up the lad that had jumped him and smiled at his new found friend, *"You are doing well Denelias, and I thank you for your timely aide. Yet I wonder now that I am free could you keep up with me?"* he chuckled a little and gave Denelias a small nudge before turning to the knights that were heading towards them. 

As William and the knight across from him circled he sized his opponent up real quick, his features suggested those of a friend and comrade in arms but his eyes told the real truth, this boy was exactly like Guy in every single way. Sly, pompous, and a deep coldness came across as William peered into his eyes and laughed out loud at his enemy who scrunched his eyes in confusion as William laughed. 

William crouched low into a wrestling stance as he had been taught by his father and grandfather and cracked his neck before attacking his opponent. His first move was a feint punch to the errant's midriff that was blocked as expected and his left fist followed up into the errant's exposed face causing him to stumble backwards. William followed it up with a knee to the gut before the errant pushed him away in an effort to get some space between them. 

William smiled as the errant looked up at him with his cold eyes and yelled as he charged him and tackled him to the floor. William took the hit and allowed their momentum to roll them so that he was now on top, yet he was only able to get one good hit on the errant's face before he was kicked off. They locked arms and fought to overpower one another and when it was clear that that wasn't going to happen the errant headbutted William right in the face. 

William grunted in pain and swept one of his legs out tripping the errant and causing him to fall to the floor where William jumped on top of him and started to punch him continuously in both the chest and the head when it was open. Again he was kicked off but this time it was weaker and William knew he had won this fight, quickly he ran at his opponent and threw a punch at his face, the errant moved his hands up to block it, but William threw his other hand into a fast uppercut that was aimed straight for the errant's jaw and a clean knockout.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias laughed at Williams comment "don't you worry about me, I will be far in front of you, winning the fight, but don't worry, i will let you help tie them up" he joked before turning to the oncoming men.

They were walking slowly, kicking over barriers as they walked, William rushed over to meet them, and immediately started circling a young man who looked happy, but had a cold glint in his eyes, while Denelias was left with a bear of a man, with a huge scar crossing down his left cheek.

Denelias laughed "ooh, big tough man has a scar, I'm scared" he sneered sarcastically. the man let out roar and charged at Denelias, swinging his arms wildly at Denelias' face, one clipping his jaw and making his eyes water.

Denlias dropped to the ground into a crouch, and shot up again, his fist connecting with the mans jaw, sending him staggering back, but then he shook his head and came forward determinedly, but more cautiously this time, and started making short and fast blows, but Denelias was faster.

As the man struck out, Denelias kept on dodging his wild and uncontrolled hits, before swinging out to make solid contact with the Errant, sending him stumbling before getting back up and striking again, it was like a dance, and Denelias was in his element, blocking the knights blows, before retaliating and hitting with perfect hits that were weakening the huge man.

Suddenly Denelias heard a howl of pain, and he looked over to its source, Arcazon was holding his face with blood seeping out from where the man who had headbutted him had connected with his face, The errant who was facing Denelias jumped forward, one hand swinging forward and connecting with Denelias' stomach, while the other wrapped around his neck in a fearsome headlock, Denelias struggled and fought, but the mans hand reached for a knot of rope hanging from his belt.

Knowing what was happening, Denelias threw his head back and drove his elbow into backwards at the same time, the elbow was planted solidly in his stomach, while Denlias' head cracked painfully against the mans nose, breaking it and sending blood spurting everywhere.

As the man groped blindly, Denelias slipped out of his grip and turned to were Arcazon was facing a losing battle, he needed help, but Denelias could fasten this man first, but then Arcazon would be tied and would lose honour, Denelias looked desperately around before making up his mind, Denelias turned and punched the Errant in the temple, knocking him out and falling to the ground, before running and leaping into the other Errant, knocking him flying


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

((OOC: Sorry for the delay Deathbringer, and the short post, I hope the ending is ok, im not sure if I was supposed to do that))

Bors was rather enjoying the night. He had bested to of his fellow Knights in combat, a excellent feat and something he knew his father would be very proud of. The younger of the Knights was now tied up and Bors was preparing to do the same to the older, and better in combat of the two. He stood yet as he turned a weak looking arm reached for his throat and Bors slipped backwards purposely before laying on giant fist in his nose, cracking it and sending him flying onto his back. Before the man even hit the ground, which he did painfully, Bors was flying after him with a rope at the ready. 

He quickly did his job, tying the man with one of the ropes that was dangling from his wrist and standing quickly, a cry of help flickering to him. It was one of his Lance, yet he did not know which member other than it was not William or Asmodeus, due to them being the only pair he had actually took notice of during his time with them. He spun on his heel towards where he had assumed the sound had came from. 

Arcazon and a pair of his fellow Errant Knights were fighting against several of the enemy team members. Arcazon was busy tying up one man who squirmed, trying to free himself when a stern head flung upwards and hit their Lance Leader in the skull, causing him to fall backwards as blood trickled from a cut within his nose. Fury burned deep within Bors, boiling and threatening to overflow and send him flying forwards like some God of War. He charged. 

He ran as fast as someone his size possibly could, getting closer to Arcazon when a firm shoulder struck him hard. He spun on his heel twice before falling down onto his backside with enough force to knock the air from his lungs and jar his bones painfully. He gasped for air, steadying himself with his hands and digging them into the dirt. Above him stood the Knight that he remember Arcazon speaking with earlier, what was his name?

Phineus! That was his name, the bastard had struck Bors even though he was not paying attention. Coward. He looked down upon him and hissed, yet it was still a whisper “Nice try boy” and showed his teeth via curling his lips. He looked other his shoulder and said “Tie him up” and a young Errant, skinnier than a twig compared to the bulk of Bors came in view spinning a rope in his hand. He got near when a figure came nearby, striking them both and sending them stumbling away drunkenly. 

He blinked his eyes several times in quick succession and stared at the smiling Liam, a member of another Lance who had the respect of Bors entire Lance. And the young Palamedes had been saved by him. The older Knight offered his hand, and Bors took it thankfully with a smile upon his face. As he was lifted into the air, he caught a wink off Liam who proceeded to spin around and hurl Bors into the two enemy Knights. Knowing what to do, Bors outstretched both arms and struck them both, sending Phineus to the ground and with Bors coming down upon the smaller of the two. 

He lay atop of the man, head spinning and tried to regain control. A fist to the ribs did so. The man beneath him, his face contorted in pain as he struggled to breath with the weight of Bors pressing down upon him had managed to lay a punch in his ribs, and Bors was thankful. Now he was fully aware. Staring at the man he grinned and head butted, striking the man square in the face and drawing blood across a gash in his forehead. 

He blinked away blood in his eyes and returned the head butt to Bors who laughed as the inner side of his lip turned into a blood tear. Bors stood, helping the man up with his hand but as he did so, a mighty punch was thrown into his opponents gut. He keeled over, holding his midsection and groaning as a knee was brought upwards into his face with enough force to send him onto his back. Yet as he went, his legs came up and hit the Errant Knight in the chest causing him to step backwards. 

The man flipped upwards and went on the attack. Five blows were dealt to Bors chest in quick succession before he could even block. Bors returned a punch to his opponents gut, knocking the air away and once again causing him to bend over. Bors brought his arms down upon his head, sending him to the ground in a crumpled heap. He was down and out, quickly Bors wrapped a rope around him and stood back to his full height. 

He began to run towards Arcazon when he suddenly stopped and spun around to find Liam and Phineus clashing, flurries of blows being laid into each other. Phineus was larger than Liam, but not extremely yet the man had come to his aid and Bors was now running away. He began to sprint backwards. With a roar he leapt forwards head first, striking Phineus in the side and sending them both to the ground. A first connected with his jaw but Bors did not falter, punching several times in the older Knights face. 

He looked up at Liam and said “I am in your debt, but now please do help me keep this bastard down” and let out a small chuckle, gripping the wrists of the large Phineus and pushing them into the dirt as Liam begun at tie his legs.


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

*"Cocky are we"* His attacker snarled out and a look of disgust couldn't help but cross Guy's face. _"Have some humility at least, or at least a little control of yourself. Are you supposed to be some mad dog in need of being put down?"_ He said, deliberately ignoring the larger man's jab in order to enrage him further.

A fist jabbed at him, and Guy had to jump back to avoid a blow that would easily have put him down. _"Whoa now good sir, that one nearly connected." _He said through a wry smile, feinting to the side and throwing a punch of his own before stepping out of the way of the return. Guy needed to force a bad move from this man, and for that he would have to cross a line and he knew it. _"Are you even trying to get me? Is this how you serve your lord? What of your family, do you do them any justice?"_


Suddenly his foe's rage breaks and he rushes forward, fists flying towards Guy. The blows were fueled only by anger, they were easy to dodge, but they were clearly meant to do more than just knock him out now. The line had been crossed, Guy had smeared a fellow knight's honour, he had dragged a family name down for but a moment and it was more than enough for anyone. Each blow that missed forced Guy back, and any attempt to get around the knight's side was thwarted; this anger had a plan and it was fast becoming clear. He was pushing Guy up against a wall, cornering him so that there would be no more room to dodge or hide from the blows.

_"Fine then, I leave my fate to the lady and the lord of this land, may they guide me through this without much harm."_ He said to himself, ducking a swing and stepping forward, past the knight's guard. He tucked his clenched left fist into his open right hand and pushed back, bringing his elbow forward and ramming it as hard as he could into the knight's nose.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

I WOULD ADVISE EVERYONE TO READ GUYS UPDATE

Guy: The beast lunges for you as you step inwards and your two momentums collide in a huge inpact upon the mans nose and he seems to stop hanging in midair, whilst a high pitched scream of agony flashes across the battlefield and the man drops knocked clean out by the impact. Your own arm is agony yet no true damage and you see several older knights, tied knights at their feet staring at you in admiration as you wipe the blood from your elbow. Grin and bare the sudden shooting pain in your elbow. 

As you survey the battlefield you keen eye spots something cresting the rise in the distance. It is a small beacon of light, like a torch and its light casts upon a shadowy figure upon horseback.

Naturally you reach for you sword, but it isnt there and you cry out pointing to the figure. The other knights gather round you yet you have enough time to make your observations of the shadowy figure upon which your eyes are fixed.

It is a slender figure and even the horse looks smaller and though your eyes may be deceiving the light flickers and you see the rising arc of a bow upon the shadowy figures shoulder.

Make your guesses as to who it is... if it carries a bow it is not a knight .... it may just be one of the peasantry doing his rounds or is it something more sinister.. react accordingly and make your guesses.

Borshineus's blow knocks you sideways but Liam's return punch causes the knight to groan and vomit, missing you by inches. liam grimaces but ties Phinues's wrist as the knight makes no more move to escape.

He straightens and you see a small grin upon his face

"Thought you were ditching me then"
His smile grows as you begin to walk towards Arcazon trying to get the night to follow you and he gives a chuckle

"Look again boy"

You look once more to se Arcazon finishing the knots on there enemies

"Never underistimated de Vala boy." he chuckle "He's a limey little bastard make no mistake"

He looks at you with shrewd calculating eyes

" Your good in a scrap my friend... whats your name?."

As you give it to him he smiles clasping your shoulder and adds
"I think I owe you a drink "

You open your mouth to speak yet Guys shout cause his ears to prick and he follows his finger to the flame of light and his eyes widen

"Go get your armour and your horse now"

Confused you dont move until he pushes you and you break into a sprint heading for your tent. You see Denelias Arcazon and William sprinting towards the tents and you cry out asking for information but Arcazon has already dissappeared into his tent

Between you Denelias and William try and figure out what has freaked Arcazon and Liam so badly... are you under attack... how come the sentries didn't spot attackers... or is this just a precaution. Armour up and saddle your horses quickly all the same. 

End your posts with you on your horse behind Arcazon.

Denelias: (I didnt want you to do both... generally if i give you a choice it means one or the other I should have been clearer as it was my fault no ramifications but next time perhaps)Your knock out sends the man slumping and he doesnt move yet your rash jump almost unseats Arcazon yet he ducks at the last second sending you sprawling. You twist easily and push yourself to your feet. You help Arcazon tie the man who is caked in Arcazon's blood when guy's cry and point causes Arcazon to shudder and he cries out

"Fuck... Its coming from his hand"

Your confused but suddenly he is pushing you and William towards the tents already stripping off his tunic as he hollers

"Get your armour and horse... now"

Confused you dont move until he pushes you and you break into a sprint heading for your tent. You see Bors sprinting towards his tents and you cry out asking for information but Arcazon has already dissappeared into his tent

Between Bors Denelias and William try and figure out what has freaked Arcazon and Liam so badly... what did he mean was coming from his hand?... are you under attack... how come the sentries didn't spot attackers... or is this just a precaution. Armour up and saddle your horses quickly all the same. 

End your posts with you on your horse behind Arcazon.


William: Your knock out blow is exactly that and your half disgusted half proud to see a tooth fly from the errants mouth. As you tie first your man you notice Denelias's man is knocked out yet untied

As you bend to do the honours you hear Guy cry out and see him pointing at a small shadowy figure holding a light aloft and you hear Arcazon cry out

"Fuck... Its coming from his hand"

Your confused but suddenly he is pushing you and William towards the tents already stripping off his tunic as he hollers

"Get your armour and horse... now"

Confused you dont move until he pushes you and Denelias and you break into a sprint heading for your tent. You see Bors sprinting towards his tents and you cry out asking for information but Arcazon has already dissappeared into his tent

Between Bors Denelias and William try and figure out what has freaked Arcazon and Liam so badly... what did he mean was coming from his hand?... are you under attack... how come the sentries didn't spot attackers... or is this just a precaution. Armour up and saddle your horses quickly all the same. 

End your posts with you on your horse behind Arcazon.

Asmodeus: Your very lucky indeed for your toe prod alert the knight and as the errant thats like you lashes out at you the older knight limps infront catching the blow and riposting with a vicious left hook that sends the errant sprawling .

The older knight bows to you holding out a piece of rope and allowing you to tie the errant. You are honoured by this show of humility and the older knight smiles as you wind the rope.

"The first competition is always the best." he studies you and your insignia and adds. 

"Your the boy trying to lead Arcazon's lance aren't you?"

As you nod he overrides your words

"Why?"

The short question startles you, is this a trick a test? Yet as you look into the knights eyes you see nothing xcept interest and kindness.. maybe this is someone you should open up to or should you guard your words

As you finish he opens his mouth yet you hear Guy's scream and turn staring at the shadowy figure. Read Guys update and make your own impression

The older knight next to you turns back to you and mutters in a dismissing voice

"Whats all the fuss about... Its ust a peasant"

Something in your gut tells you otherwise make your own conjecture whatever it is.. you realise its not a peasant"



Right thats the update. The story is moving on quicker now so quick responses would be appreciated. 

Hope your enjoying and thanks for keeping on with it


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

(occ: sorry about that didnt realise you only wanted one thing to be accomplished)

Confusion reigned in Denelias' head as he ran to his tent, what were all the others so wound up about, wasn't it just a peasant, but he must obey his leader, Arcazon.

As he caught up to William and Bors he shouted out "what is happening, what the fuck is so bad about that guy?" 

As they answered he plunged into his tent, ripping his tunic off and throwing it to one side, he grabbed his cloak and threw it on, followed by his chainmail and finally his platemail, he then picked up his sword and shield and ran to his horse with his saddle slung over one shoulder.

He grabbed the reins of his horse and threw the saddle over the side, before quickly fastening the buckles and straps and attaching his sword to the side, he grabbed his shield and fastened it to the other side, before picking up his lance and jumping on the horse, riding to the meeting area


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William grimaced a bit as he saw a tooth fly out of the errants mouth, that would hurt in the morning for sure, yet he was proud that he had landed such a blow. After tying the errant up and heading over to the first knight that Denelias had knocked out to tie him up too he heard Arcazon shout for them to get into their tents and get their armor on and looked up to see Guy also yelling and pointing at a man holding a light on a horse a bit aways from them.

Squinting he tried to get a good look at the man and what he was doing, a bow was across his back so he must have been a peasant, but something didnt feel right. *"Fuck....it's coming from his hand.*" he heard Arcazon say and it took a little time and a push from Arcazon for it to click in his head what was on the hill, or at least what he believed was on the hill.

Rushing towards his tent he heard Denelias yell and ask what everyone was so upset about and William shouted back at he and Bors, *"It's a mage!"* before diving into his tent and throwing on his armor. He grabbed his sword and shield and Seig's saddle and rushed out to his horse who he could tell was itching to get loose from where he was tied.

He threw the saddle onto Seig and tied it neatly and efficiently before jumping on and heading to the meeting area and taking his place up in the back. Seeing Denelias and Bors there he said, *"It must be a mage, the light could be coming from his hand which is why Arcazon said what he did."*


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Bors enjoyed the company of Liam. Together they had subdued Phineus, the oversized oaf as he was. After he had asked what his name was, Bors gripped his wrist and smiled saying “Bors Palamedes, I am honoured to have fought with you my fellow Knight, I look forward to doing so when we ride for the damned city”. And then it was all thrown into chaos. Someone shouted something that went amiss in his ears and he noticed that members of his Lance were sprinting back towards their tents and Bors suddenly took off, at the word of Liam. 

His feet slipped with each drunken step he took in his sprint, and with each step he realised that war would come closer to him. He slid to a halt outside his tent, slipping onto the ground in his rush and landed hard yet he continued to pull himself in and set too pulling his armour upon his form. He threw away a box, searching for his blade frantically. He finally found it, hidden beneath a rug that he had thrown down across the ground and drew it in his hand, holding the scabbard in the other. Several quick swings showed him he was ready and he pushed back outside. 

He patted Nasib upon the neck twice and pulled himself up into the saddle, sheathing his blade and fitting his helm before taking grip of the leather reigns. His head turned towards William and said “It cannot be a Mage, it is something darker my friends however I do not know what. Has anyone bothered to untie their Knights?”. He pushed his horse into tow behind Arcazon and awaited a reply from either or both.


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

It was finished in an instant, Guy forced himself to not blink as it did. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, his elbow making its way to the brute of a knight’s face before finally connecting. As he made contact, time reverted back on itself, and that’s when his elbow planted square in the knight’s nose with a crack and spray of blood. For moments they stood there, Guy unable or unwilling to take his eyes off his attacker and his attacker pressing down on him, not even staring at him anymore. Finally, and with some effort, Guy pushed the man off his arm, to where he crashed into the dirt and grass like a fallen tree.

Pressing his other hand to the elbow, Guy tried not to wince as pain lanced up the entirety of his arm. Looking away from the felled knight he spotted others tied up, they had been watching him and the admiration on their features filled Guy with a warmth that needed no explaining. Reaching for his side, Guy unsheathed a simple knife and started to make his way over to the tied up knights, while they did not use their weapons or armour, you would have to be a fool not to keep a small blade on you for self defense. In the wilderness and country, one could never be entirely certain that some creature or predator might not find you.

*Yes, that’s right; for now I am the hero here, you’ve all seen it.* He thought to himself, allowing a slight smile to creep along his features before returning to a look of neutrality and as if the pain in his arm was nothing.

With his attacker dealt with, Guy could not let his own group sit around helpless if he had anything to do about it. Turning his head from side to side, he looked carefully for signs of any more threats or ambushes while slowly advancing forward. Slight movement out of the corner of his eye got Guy to stop dead in his tracks and turn to face whoever the movement belonged to. That’s when he saw the light, it could be no more than a lantern, held by a figure mostly covered in the shadows of the night.

This figure, from what he could tell from the little light, was a man on horseback; though beyond that little amount Guy could make out no distinct features. _“Trouble here!”_ Guy called out to any other knight in earshot. He went to reach for his blade, regardless of who this figure on horseback was, before realizing that the only weapon he had was the small blade. If this figure meant any of them harm, the blade would be all but useless, the metal spanning but one hand length, the same as the grip.

Squinting now, Guy though he could make out slender or smaller features from the figure; making it possible for the rider to not be another noble. That’s when he realized that the horse itself was smaller, even from this distance, which would mean there was no way this could be a noble son of Brettonia; the shame you would bring yourself and your family for even considering riding an impure steed, there was just no way; not even the barbaric Tolle would do such a thing. As he was squinting for a better look, that’s when the figure moved and the light flickered, and Guy could swear that he saw the curve of a bow in the figures hands. As unsure of this figure as he was, Guy needed to help the others at least; and so he started to move towards them again, not daring to turn his back to the figure. He would rather find out later that the figure was just one of the yeomen peasants on patrol and not something worse.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

As he was just tightening the knot Asmodeus heard a scuffle of movement and he felt his hairs stand on end as instinctive mind alerted him to danger. Quickly drawing the bind tight, he twirled around just in time to see his ally floor the attacking knight with an impressive hook.

A wide smile crossed his face as he got to his feet, knowing he'd made the right decision and taking the smallest tinge of pride in helping his fellow knight. Though this feeling was replaced by a mixture of gratitude and admiration as the older knight bowed and indicated he should claim the fallen knight. Asmodeus insensitively went to refuse, though he realised the knight wouldn't likely take no for an answer, or feel shamed in the worst case scenario. So Asmodeus nodded thankfully and knelt to claim his second foe.

After creating a satisfying hold, Asmodeus stood and smiled to the knight he had fought with, though the older spoke first.

'Your the boy trying to lead Arcazon's lance aren't you?'

He nodded, about to introduce himself, but the older knight beat him to it again.

'Why?'

The question was slightly stunning at first, Asmodeus almost felt wrong-footed, not seeing the question coming. His mind raced as he tried to formulate a response that wouldn't have him either sounding like an arrogant fool or floundering for words.

'I know I have what is needed to lead a lance.'

Asmodeus cringed behind a impassive mask, that hadn't really sounded like anything he would normally say. And he'd kept one of the reasons to himself; he'd rather his actions be responsible for their group than his fault being because of the ill judgement of another. It was a dark thought, he realised, so he never voiced it, merely tried to live alongside it.

He was fairly confident the knight would take his statement without looking further, though the shout of one of his lance-mates, Guy unless he was mistaken, distracted the pair of them and removed any of his thoughts on the matter. He turned to wear the shout originated, tracing Guy's hand and looking at the silhouetted stranger. He squinted in the darkness, the older knight spoke once more.

'What's all the fuss about... Its just a peasant.'

-_... Is it?_'

'Hmm, at this hour? And he's in an odd place. It could even just be a lost sentry, though why is he just staring at us? I wouldn't be so sure.'


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

All: Arcazon emerges leading Guy and Asmodeus's horses, mounted on his own and you are suprised to notice their armour and weapons poking from the saddle bags and even a lance strapped to the back. You converge half mounted half running and Arcazon hands over the horses, Guy and Asmodeus struggling to tighten the straps and slip on there armour.

As you gallop up the rise towards the figure the light seems to dissapear down the otherside of the hill and the figure wheels his horse round to face you yet no light reappears. Instinctively you move into the lance formation and you see Arcazon tug on Asmodeus's arm as he moves forward to the head. As Guy turns he look calmly into his eyes

"You spotted the intruder, you take the lead. He turns to Asmodeus and whispers into his ear

"Raise your game, this is not permanent"

Thus Guy ends up at the tip Asmodeus to his left and Arcazon to his right with Bors behind asmodeus and Denelias Behind Arcazon in the V shape with William taking the rearguard. 

(Asmodeus , Guy and William I'm sure you three will have thoughts on the leadership development however for the sake of speed I'm going to move this rp on a fair way)
_____________________________________________________________

As you reach the bottom of the rise and begin to charge upwards you see that it isn't just one figure but two, one slumped forwards in the shadow of another. The figure thats upright is a woman, beautiful and far too fair to be anything but an elf, a creature of Athel Loren. Her beautiful long golden hair is covered in grime and blood and the quiver behind her back is empty and her sword stained with blood. The man she clasps has an arrow through the chest and his cloak is seeped in blood whilst you see he bears tatoos all over his wrists that glow a dim white, the colour of snow.

The horse is slender lithe as a willow wand, a beautiful chestnut brown with eyes that bear more intelligence than many humans. You see Arcazon lower his weapons... some of you may have thoughts upon that, not all of you may be as trusting of the fey folk as he... especially not a mage....


As you reach the figures she does not introduce herself but points over the lip and you look down to see a small gaggle of beastmen, about 20-25 gors horns down charging up the hill towards you whilst on the next ridge you see hewn bodies amongst them an elf and two beautiful white horses heads and necks hewn by axes.

The thought of beastmen intruders in the fair land of your forefathers... it disgusts you revolts you and makes your very blood boil.

(JUST A NOTE FOR ALL: Th forest of athel loren is home to the wood elves, beautiful and slender who are supported by various spirits in summer and spring yet in winter, the forest sleeps dormant and hence the forest becomes sluggish and is most vulnerable to assailants... this rp is set in winter)

"Destroy them by the pact of Athel Loren I mean you no harm. By the blood of my people I will not leave this spot" screams the woman and her invocation of the signed pact and oath gives you the confidence to leave her

Blood raging downhill you charge, desperate to remove the despoilers stain from your lands


Guy: The head of the lance you bear slightly left to hit the very centre of the horde lance falling to aim upon the central beastmans chest, an arrow whistling over your shoulder spooks you and you duck your head peering around to find that the gors have split into two groups, one charging horns and claws bared whilst 5 have dropped off, bows in there horned hands. The lance is formed and the charge declared and to reorganize would loose momentum. You aim and your lance tears through the first beastmans chest splintering as it tears him open and you momentum carries the point into a second impaling him and leaving them both upon the ground. Your horse despite your best efforts to keep her pushing forwards rears as horned claws tear at her eyes through the barding and a hand grips at your foot as you struggle to stay astride.

Arcazon and Asmodeus clatter in behind you there momentum stalling as you loose yours and you see Arcazon swing his horse right swerving to let Bors come alongside him as the charge falls dead

Your momentum is dead yet your horse comes crashing down an iron shod foot clattering into the face of the nearest beastman whilst your sword hacks at the one holding your foot and he falls to the floor. 


Your momentum is lost but you have a moment now, do you push forward and try and regain momentum despite the loss of your lance (the weapon)... issue your orders... do you trust William enough to use the rearguard who still has momentum to use him to push the lance forward?, Bors who is protecting the flank could be used in a flanking manouveur... Denelias is unseated yet his horse is near...(could he be used to flank or will he be overrun... should you send someone to aid him)

The beastmen are massing and your in danger of being over run... these orders could change the battle and your position at the head of the lance

Asmodeus: The charge rushes forwards and you lower your lance mimicking Arcazon and Guy yet this postion at the side of the lance feels awkward to you and you find yourself drifting central and having to force yourself wide. Mainly the turmoil of loosing the first round of the battle for control of the \ lance will be in your mind and Arcazon's worse. Your mind is so distracted that you fail to react as the beastman side steps your lance stroke and slips behind you yet your added momentum means your horse knocks the second aside whilst your lance splinters upon impact with the 3rd. Your used to this clinching point where the charge can die and your sword is quickly out of your sheath and you hack left and right looking over you see Guy's horse rear and Arcazon's strokes falling in the same manner to your own, left right, left. You carve a path through three beastmen with short sharp strokes till you reach Guy and you look to Arcazon for guidance and see him turning aside and Bors coming alongside. You mimic him and turn to see Denelias has been grounded and is on his feet, his horse wandering aimlessly by his side. You have a choice, forge forward following Guys orders or turn back and help Denelias, which will gain Arcazon's acclaim?

Denelias: You charge head down yet as you reach the line of beastmen an arrow rockets towards you striking your breastplate and knocking you backwards with such force that you roll from your horse and land the wind knocked from you. You struggle to your feet only to find a small group of gors advancing on the side of the lance. Their are three in total, defeat them as you wish but you will not be able to remount and one of them will give you a small wound on the left of your chest with its claw.... it wont hinder you.. .call it your first scar of war


Bors: (Sorry for the rubbish update your part will come later) Arcazon tucks inwards and you clatter into the line of advancing Gors your lance tearing through the first and you pull it out using your strength to plunge it through a second who in falling backwards tears it out of your hand. You hold the flank of your lance and two gors seem to be trying to flank you. Your sword flashes outwards and you decapitate the nearest gor with one stroke. Wheel your horse and ride them down.

William: As you prepare to chance the womans voice softly whispers your name so none of the others can hear your mouth opens and you splutter

"I know many things William, your name is one of the less interesting things that are lodged within my brain, however the vestiges of the future are one of the more interesting things that are buried in my knowledge. I saw our meeting and soon after I saw my own death at the hands of a beastman. However that is not all I saw, beware the crypts of mousillon William Tolle, for something you treasure deeply will never leave if you enter."

Though you strain to question her further she points and you see your lance has charged and you struggle in vain to catch up,fearing you may have left the lance exposed. This delay is actually to your benefit as the beastman that Asmodeus missed has slipped through and you are able to draw your sword and save your lance and your momentum. You slit his throat with a well timed slash and charge onwards.... you see that the charge has stalled and Guy giving orders, you could regain the lances momentum... will you take the initiative or wait for Guys orders?

Sorry for the small delay Mothers day
Enjoy any questions pm me


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Finally turning his back to the mounted figure, Guy ran the last of the way to those who were tied up and quickly cut their bonds. Looking up from his work, Guy had enough time to see Arcazon galloping in his direction, armed and armoured, while leading Guy’s own steed. As his Gallant approached, he thrust the reigns to Guy before moving onward, to which Guy quickly saddled up, realizing that his own weapons and armour were with the war-horse. If his leader was ready for battle, then there was no time for Guy to stand around and try to struggle to get his own plate on; with time and standing still it would take close to half an hour to be fully ready.

Instead, while kneading his steed after Arcazon, Guy pulled on the chainmail about his chest and tried to strap his shield onto his left arm before sheathing his sword and finally taking up his lance. While his attention had been on arming himself while leaving the plate armour, he had bled speed and fallen behind Arcazon.

Cresting the rise where the rider had been, Guy caught up to Arcazon in time to see Asmodeus reach him with the rest of the lance as they formed up. That’s when Arcazon turned to look at him, a spark in his eyes despite the darkness around them. _"You spotted the intruder, you take the lead.”_ He said before turning away and saying something to Asmodeus. The notion of the being given the head of the lance settled things for now, though given the way Arcazon had handled things thus far, he had no doubt that he would be giving Asmodeus insurances of some kind.

Shaking his head, he would take this opportunity granted to him and prove that the head of the lance was where he belonged. But if he guessed right, Arcazon would go back on his decision in the future, he just hoped that it did not become a constant move, or one that they all would regret.


Racing down the hill, Guy finally got a good look at the rider, or rather riders. Both were tall and slender, clad in a fashion that would easily mark them out as non-Brettonian. One was a beautiful woman, clutching a blade and covered in dirt and blood; the other was a man and appeared to be badly wounded and clutching an arrow sticking out of his chest. A woman riding to battle? No, these were not man and woman, for all of his studies had taught him that none of Brettonia, none of even the Empire, allowed women to go to war as soldiers or knights. These two had to be elves of the mystical Athel Loren, the wood elves mothers told their children in stories along with the great knights, especially of the Green Knight. If the stories were true, Brettonia and the wood elves had fought alongside each other against the forces of the undead and beastmen on many occasion.

As Guy got a good look at the pair, he looked back to see what Arcazon wanted, and witnessed his gallant lowering his weapons; so he would do so as well. The wood elves and knights of this land were allies, one did not raise a lance or sword against an ally without good reason. As the lance neared, the female elf pointed to something in the distance and Guy’s face contorted to anger as he got a good look at what it was; beastmen! The hated enemy here amidst them!


_"Destroy them by the pact of Athel Loren I mean you no harm. By the blood of my people I will not leave this spot"_ Screams the female elf and her invocation of the signed pact instills something within Guy, somehow letting him know that her words are true and she should be trusted.

Bearing to the left, Guy directed the formation towards the center of the group of beastmen, his lance aimed down at the chest of the beast he was lined up with. An arrow, all but unseen in the darkness, flies past his head, missing it by scant inches and forcing him to duck down to avoid any others. His chainmail could deflect some blows, but he would rather not test his luck against such crude, debased weapons. Looking back, the group of beastmen had split, the main body still charging forward while a handful stopped and aimed crude bows.

_“Ignore the archers for now, the main body is our bigger threat; let the grail and the lady decide if they should take us down by such a weapon!”_ He yelled while pouring on speed and once again lining his lance up with the chest of his first target. He crashed into the beastmen like a raging bear, lance impaling the beast before Guy tore it out and struck out again while running forward. Another of the creatures is taken by the lance before a large beast charges right at Auguste and while Guy’s attention is on those being killed, he is unable to halt the warhorse from braying onto two legs in order to keep the beast from its face.

Something tugged at his leg, looking down Guy saw another beast, and lashed out with his boot before bashing it with his shield. Casting his lance into the face of a beast, Guy tears his sword from its place at its side and stabs into the beast that had tried to pull him off. As Auguste comes down, Guy has a moment to look around, the others had been stalled with him; they could try to force a wedge through the beasts in an attempt to reclaim their lost charge, but that could leave them exposed and possibly cut some of their group off if they were unable to outright break away. 

He watched as Denelias was felled from his horse, down but still fighting, and William was not amongst their number. He had fallen behind, likely his thick armour and the heavy armour he placed on his horse had robbed it of speed and now he struggled to catch up with them, such a thing though, was an advantage at this time. Swinging out with his sword, Guy landed his blade into the side of one beast. _“William and Bores, aid Denelias and then flank these creatures while the rest of us deal with the main body.”_ He yelled while stabbing out with his sword again.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William couldn't help but smile as they crested the hill and it became apparent that the being, or rather one of the beings, on the horse was a mage. Realizing it was one of the fey folk he lowered his weapon and shield like the rest of the lance and listened to what the woman had to say, a fire burning in his belly as he looked towards the group of beastmen in the distance. 

He had a problem with the pompous Guy leading the lance but this was most definately not the time to voice his worries or opinion so he kept his mouth shut, he would follow his orders until he had the time to speak up. 

Yet as he made to spur Sieg on with the rest of the lance as they charged down the hill the woman spoke to him, _"I know many things William, your name is one of the less interesting things that are lodged within my brain, however the vestiges of the future are one of the more interesting things that are buried in my knowledge. I saw our meeting and soon after I saw my own death at the hands of a beastman. However that is not all I saw, beware the crypts of mousillon William Tolle, for something you treasure deeply will never leave if you enter." _

His brow furrowed as he tried to ask her more questions but she stayed silent, him finally realizing he was far behind the rest of the lance. Kicking Sieg into action he charged down the hill his sword and shield at the ready, the heavy mass that was him and his horse barreling down the hill. The lance had lost momentum, and it was his job to pick it back up, the beastman that Asmodeus had missed was to be his first victim.

As Sieg made it to the line he slit the beast's throat, blood shooting out of the wound, the thing falling to the ground scratching at its open neck. _*“William and Bors, aid Denelias and then flank these creatures while the rest of us deal with the main body.” *_William heard Guy's voice and nodded as he turned Sieg toward where Denelias had been dismounted and was currently up against three beasts.

William charged towards Denelias, he would not allow the only one in this lance he had actually grown to like die on his watch, and as he got close to the first beast it lept out of his way as did the second, the third was not so quick. He lowered his sword like one would a lance and impaled it through the neck with his blade before pulling his sword out and turning Sieg so that he and his horse were between Denelias his horse and the other two beastmen. 

William turned his attention to the one to the right of him as it stepped back slowly out of his reach and got closer to where Bors was, if he could push this thing into Bors then he could dispatch the other one and allow Denelias to mount his horse while he went to flank the group. Yet at the moment it was him between Denelias and the two beastmen.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias followed the others up the hill on his horse, to meet a woman of extreme beauty holding a man with an arrow sticking out of his chest and coughing blood all over his chest and abdomen.

Denelias listened to her speech, before turning to see the beastmen hacking some dead bodies of elves and horses.

How dare they try attack some honourable elves and defile their bodies in front a lance of brettonians, they would die!

with a cry, he followed the rest of his lance into battle, roaring with glee as his lance smashed into the beastmen, only to be flung off his horseand sent sprawling as a beastmans arrow deflected off his chest.

He stood and shook his head groggily, before turning to face three beastmen who were advancing upon him, with a snarl he drew his sword and lifted his shield, only to see two beastmen jump back and a third to be trampled and stabbed through the neck by his good friend William.

Denelias grinned, silently thanking his friend, before jumping forward, and slashing one beastman across the chest, and then bashing his shield into the things nose, sending it crashing onto the floor, with a roar, Denelias reversed his sword and shoved it deep into the beast.

He then jumped back hurriedly, bringing his shield up to block an attack from the last beast "hold it off, i need to mount my horse" he shouted to William, spinning around and leaping onto his horses back


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Nasib neighed as the Beast Men, large red skinned creatures with curled horns sprouting from their hardened skulls drew nearer. His grip tightened around his lance, sweaty palms painful against the cold metal. Warm breath fluttered from his mouth as his horse eat the ground with great, deep steps of the beasts feet. The closest Beast Man angled its head, thick brown nostrils widened and a roar bellowed from its throat, shaking the golden rings which clung to the scarred lips. A black eye patch was mounted over the right eye, obscuring whatever lay beneath perfectly. He thrust the lance in his hand forwards and grinned. 

It struck the chest, ripping through the soft flesh there and continuing through the protective plate of bone there and skewering organs. It stared at him, thick pink fluids leaking from wide nostrils and let out a brutal roar of defiance even as the tip of the lance pushed through the back of the creature, severing the spine. The wood bulged, splinters pulling across the surface before it snapped away. He yanked what remained free, and was shocked to find barely a quarter of it had survived the impact, now smeared in thick blood and rags of flesh which blew gently in the air. A second beast, a thicker armoured creature looked at him in time to find the severely snubbed lance strike through its skull, cracking it. 

A third creature was pushed towards him by William, and Bors drew his blade. He slashed twice in quick succession, the first of which drew a line of seeping blood across its muscular throat. It gurgled, warm blood pooling down the bronze armour that encased its form. The second destroyed the bridge of its nose, shattering the bone and ripping flesh. A third flick of the blade punctured its chest armour and ripped the heart, ending its life. He nodded at William and Denelias before spurring Nasib further into them.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

CH has been delayed however i will move this on

William: As Bors deals with the final bast you push forward now bringing your as yet unused lance to bear upon the side of the beastmn main group. Arcazon has pulled his horse closer to Guy and Asmodus has mimicked him and they hack and slash, a wall of steel cutting down the first row of beastmen whose numbers are beginning to dwindle.

Whether you choose to take a wide arc and gain more speed or merely use your weight and save time will have no effect on your attacks however it will affect how Arcazon views your skills.

Side by side you and Bors crash into the beastman flank and you lance tears through the throat of the first beastman and leaves a deep gash across the bare chest of another. He staggers and with a strong thrust you cast the lance through his chest. He topples away clutching the lance as his body spasms and he tears it from your hand.

A fireball lands in the midst of the remaining beastman flashing over Guys shoulder as flames spring up around like licking tongues it sets the flesh of the remaining beastman alight and they topple to the ground spasming in anguish as their very bones burn away in the winds of magic

How do you react to this sorcery, is it horrific terrifying, does it change your reaction to the elf's prophecy?

Bors: Your stroke brings you side by side with William as you charge into the flank driving your sword through the heart of the first beastman. Freed by William's devestating lance charge you are the only member to see the elven woman raise her hand. You see the tremendous burst of flame which melds into a ball in her fist yet you also see strands, gusts of energy, twirling and swirling in the air, converging upon her hand as the fire ball grows. You shake your head, surely its just your imagination, yet as you look harder the elven mages head twists around sharply and her eyes fix upon you. Her wrist flicks and she casts the ball down towards the beastman yet you know her eyes are fixed upon you.
As you react to this new devlopment your distracted by Denelias as he pushes beyond you eyes filled with hatred as he convergs upon the bows that smote him a terrible blow before hand. He is young and his charge though noble is rash, add your weight to the charge wheeling round an arrow flashes sticking into your mounts side though luckily the barding knocks it away. Kill two of the bowmen they are easy targets yet you may well have strong words for Denelias, irritated and confused by the strands of energy that swirl around you.

Denelias: You remount whispering words of comfort to your horse yet a second arrow causes you to flatten yourself to its back. Rage, rash and impetuous fills you and you ignore the flank of the beastmen your eyes filled with hatred for the cowardly bastards that could have caused your demise (all brettonians loathe ranged weapons as they are cowardly and unchivalrous yet the two arrows have swelled your young heart)

Galloping forward you lower your lance as the beastman cower at your fury loosing a last batch of arrows at you, one pings of your shoulder guard it only increases your fury. The lance tears the first apart whilst your loyal steed knocks aside the second and your sword slashes down into the third.

Bors comes alongside you hacking down the remaining two, I would wait for DA to post first he may have strong words for your impetuous charge.



Guy and Asmodeus: (CH i would still like your reactions to the last update if possible). In general this is much more of a reflection post than an action post I fancy getting to know your charactors opinions more than there strength in battle

You both turn your mounts towards each other mimicking Arcazon as he hunches shield held low to cover his body and sword stabbing across causing the beastmen to jump back or else take a blow to the throat. You both see that Guys tactics have worked, that you are the anvil and as William charges in you see the hammer land a devestating blow upon the beastmen forces.

A fireball lands in the midst of the remaining beastman flashing over your shoulders, causing you to flinch and your horses canter backwards as flames spring up around like licking tongues it sets the flesh of the remaining beastman alight and they topple to the ground spasming in anguish as their very bones burn away in the winds of magic

How do you react to this sorcery, is it horrific terrifying, does it change your opinion of the elf, do you trust her, distrust her, have you ever seen sorcery like this before?

As you react to this new development your distracted by Denelias as he pushes beyond you eyes filled with hatred as he convergs upon the bows that smote him a terrible blow before hand. He is young and his charge though noble is rash. Guy in particular you may well have strong words for Denelias despite the success of his charge, he did disobey your orders and you realise that if it hadn't been for Bors's quick reactions it could have turned out horribly different. However he is young and an eager warrior, do you use the stick or the carrot?

The next update will move the story on a fair way 
Thanks for the prompt posts and the excellent quality
Any questions pm me


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

As Bors killed the last of the beastmen trying to kill Denelias William turned Sieg around and charged into the flank of the beastman forces. If he had had time to rush around the side and get momentum he would have, but this force needed to be defeated quickly, and there was a reason why he and Sieg were so heavily armored. 

Charging into the flank his lance speared through the throat of one beastman and cut a gash across the one behind it. He put some more power behind the thrust and the lance cut through into its chest and the beast fell away clutching the lance as it died, he pulled his sword and hacked at one more before he saw a fireball fly over Guy's shoulder and land right in the middle of the group.

All the beastmen went up in flames, their skin burning as they cried out in pain and horror, he backed Sieg away so that they did not catch fire either by some strange happenstance. This hadn't been the first time he had seen this kind of magic, living on the fringes of Brettonia and next to a large forest he had met a few of the fey folk before and seen some of thier magic whenever Stahl Herz was threatened. 

Even though he had seen it before it still had the ability to unnerve him, the ability to weild such power had a mixture of feelings within him. One was disgust, to fight using such ways was beyond him even if he did have the ability, another was awe to see such power in such a way stunned him. Thinking about this brought him back to the prophecy that the elven witch had told him, the only dear ones he could think of loosing were his father and his grandfather, and the only one that was in this battle with Mousillon was his father.

How could she know if he was going to loose someone? Beware the crypts of mousillon, but what if he had to go into them, if it was part of the battle? Who was he going to loose? He shook his head to rid it of all these questions so that he could focus on what was happening around him before he got an arrow in Sieg's arse or worse.


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Bors raised his blade into the air, his chapped armour covered remaining hand tightening around the reigns of Nasib. Droplets of blood rolled down the side of the blade and fell off, spinning wildly as they fell towards the ground. He watched the Elven female raise her long fingered hand and let loose a blast of prosperous energies, it formed into a ball beneath her curling fingers before being shot forth devastatingly. The wind howled loudly in his ears as it flew past, the ball spinning with strands of flame and pearl white….Air, at least that is the only thing Bors could call it. He almost shrieked when the woman turned to him.

Both their eyes met, her beautiful orbs contrasting against his tired, withered pupils. He turned away forcefully, though admittedly he would rather have stood there staring at the siren rather than looking down upon the foul, dirty hairy Beastmen that send puffs of steam and snot forwards. Denalias suddenly pushed forth on his steed, and Bors was nearly thrown free of his saddle. He followed him as he raced towards the Archers, smaller creatures than the heavier horned beasts. Many wore clothes over their heads, orange in colour so that only the fanged maws and red eyes were shown from beneath. Small studs for horns moved down the centre of their heads, falling behind to where ponytails dangled down their backs.

Leather cuirass’s covered their upper forms, strapped on with thick black latches that ended in rusted broaches. Fetishes of bone and meat, crimson glistening in the sunlight cracked against one another as they pulled back arrows on thick strings. Bors growled as he continued to watch Denalias and struck his heels into the side of Nasib who charged forth. He came in at the side of Denalias, striking an Archer in the chest with his blade. Blood ripped forth, dribbling down the creatures chest as Bors twisted and ripped upwards into its throat, shredding the esophagus and breaking the jaw in two. The quivering body fell, and Bors smiled to himself darkly.

Energies spun around him as he thrust his blade into a second’s skull, shattering the bone and eating away at the brain. The arms fell limp at its side, dropping the curved bow to the ground as Bors pushed his armoured foot into the chest and pushed. The blade slipped free as the body fell onto its back, long strings of pink liquid dangling from his weapon. He slid it into his scabbard and scanned Nasib for injuries quickly, finding a small mark in the thick saddle he cursed and wheeled around to face Denalias. 

Nasib neighed and lifted up onto two legs, showing Denalias the pair of giant, curved shoes which covered the exposed bone at its feet before coming back down to earth with a thud. His lips curled as he spoke, showing his anger “You ran! You fool! You let emotions get the better of you, and you charged! Idiot! You do not deserve the right to become a Knight for doing such a thing” he growled as he tried to swat away a strand of orange, flickering energy and continued “Perhaps you would be better serving as a Serf. Your lucky that Nasib was not injured, or I may have had to kill you myself”.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias leapt onto his horses back, sliding smoothly into the saddle "I am here, good friend", just as an arrow flew past, making him sway to one side and then lower his body closer to the horse's comforting armour.

As he looks up, Denelias' eyes meet with a beastmen raising a bow in his direction, before firing and sending the arrow scything through the air to glance off Denelias' shield, Denelias is filled with rage that such a cowardly tool would be used in the battlefield.

He spurs his horse forward, through the ranks of the beastmen, and into the archers, the manage to let off a final rally of arrows at him, but only one hits him and it only glances off his shoulder guard, maddening him further.

He smashes into the ranks of the beasts, stabbing one straight through the chest with his lance, as it splinters and breaks in the beasts chest, the point just breaking through and sending a spurt of blood spraying through the air, releasing the lance from his grib, he pulls his sword out of his scabbard and into the air, bringing it down on a beastman's neck, cutting through the middle of the chest and severing the beast in half, his horse battering a third one onto the ground, trampling it beneath its hooves.

Smiling violently, Denelias spins around, only to find that Bors had rode forward and butchered the last two "thank you my.." was all Denelias could get out, before Bors spun his horse around, eyes blazing "You ran! You fool! You let emotions get the better of you, and you charged! Idiot! You do not deserve the right to become a Knight for doing such a thing,Perhaps you would be better serving as a Serf. Your lucky that Nasib was not injured, or I may have had to kill you myself”. Bors growled at him furiously

Denelias stood in shock, his mouth slightly open at Bors outburst, he would dare challenge Denelias, just because Denelias had seen a weakness and set about destroying the enemy through the weakness.

In a quiet voice, he looks towards Bors and answers him "I charged, yes, i did let emotions get the better of me, yes, but that does not give you the right to denounce me, i did what i thought was right, that without these archers, we could easily destroy the foul beasts, the archers were pinning us down, and without them, this small battle would've been won before it started, so how dare you challenge my decision." Denelias heard his voice rising, and others stopped to look what was happening. "Did you have to follow me, you could've sat back, keeping you and your precious horse safe, but you came forward anyway and killed some of these beasts, and then, when they are killed, you say i put you in danger, i put your little horse in danger. how can i take the blame for something that is your fault, do not brand me as someone fit for the serfs, for you are the one who should be among them, do you not know anything about us? If we feel someone has insulted our honour, we let our emotions get the better of us and we retaliate, or at least i do, i dont know, or care, about you and your cowardliness. So, when those achers fired upon me, i did the same here, I RETALIATED, I could've been killed, with some cowards arrows sticking out of me, so do not tell me that this charge was not worth the effort, so do not label me as something you deserve to be with!" 

He started to ride off, but the an afterthought occurred to him, spinning in his saddle, he says to Bors sarcastically "Oh, and thanks for the help, it was much appreciated, and in future times, it will earn you a few enemies if you value the life of your stead, which is valuable, above the life of your brothers-in-arms, which is of the greater value"

Turning his horse again, Denelias rode away, his heart brooding and his eyes angry.


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## bobss (May 18, 2008)

Francis woke to the shining gaze of morning, aghast to see his squires fawning over his bed-ridden form.

(( I didn`t want to waste this post-slot...))


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Guy allowed himself a small smile as he looked around, realizing that his choices had been the right ones to make and that most, if not all of the lance, were falling in accordingly. Swiping out with his blade, a pair of beastmen jumped out of the way, avoiding death’s kiss at the tip of his steel but only barely, and only to be cut down by the others of the lance. *This is it,* Guy thinks to himself, *this is where they break and we push on to wipe the vile scum from this land.*

Without warning, a blast of heat erupts in the midst of the remaining beastmen; a fireball takes the remaining enemies in its fiery embrace. Instinctively, Guy threw himself down onto his steed’s back to avoid being hit before looking for the source of the fireball. His eyes fell on the elf woman, and somehow he knew that it had come from her; without thinking, his body shook at what had just happened. His father had told him of the powers that could be wielded by those favoured by the lady, and travelers and peddlers from the faraway lands like the Empire, Cathay, and Talabheim had told stories of magicians and sorcerers, but this was the first time he had seen such a thing used and it left a cold feeling in his gut.

Even though he would never admit it, seeing what the elf woman could do put some fear in Guy, fear of such a powerful creature in their midst. Though the elves of Athel Loren and the knights of Bretonnia were friend against the beastmen, the two were a world apart.

With what felt like monumental effort, Guy returned his attention to their remaining enemies, the beasts with bows and that’s when he saw Denelias charging them alone. _“No! Why did he break with us? We were routing them here to make the charge as a lance!”_ He all but snarled, unable to hide the anger and disgust at what was happening. Together the lance was a force to be reckoned with, they could break lines and demoralize any foe, but alone each of them could be taken down or picked off. Snapping around, Guy knew that they had to go after Denelias and help him before something terrible happened. _“Our enemy here is finished, with Denelias to finish their cowardly archers!”_ He yelled before racing after his fellow lancemate.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Welcome to Bobss your timely arrival is a great boon to this rp

Everyone this update will be split into two parts. Guy Denelias and Bors will be finishing the argument over Denelias's rash charge whilst Francis will be awakening from his stupor.

The second part will be long and move us on along way. In general I would like reactions to some of the revelations however generally its all fine and dandy if you choose to just resapond to your specific updates
_________________________________________________________

Part1

Guy: You canter towards Denelias to find that Bors has reached them ahead of you and aided him in finsihing them off. Bors obviously as incensed as you is reprimanding Denelias, who has responded with applomb and now the two glower still exchanging cross words. As you look round at Arcazon you see him glance at you before turning away up the hill and cantering back towards the elf with Asmodeus and William.

Are you flattered the Arcazon trusts you to take control and resolve the squabbles of the lance, or are you agrieved that Arcazon does not take control ? How will you react to the heated exchange?

Bors and Denelias:Your glares and heated exchanges mean Guy approaches you unnoticed. However he posts you realise that he holds Arcazon's authority in this case and thus when you react to this post you must react INTERNALLY and merely accept Guys authority at the time, doesnt mean you like it though....

Francis: You awaken yet your eyes are clamped shut and you raise a hand slowly to brush away the goo that clogs them shut. Your left hand touches the top of your head and you feel a large bump there. Opening your eyes you see a figure at the end of your bed, yet as your eyes adjust to the gloom you see it is Liam (leader of the other lance look at page6-7 ish for details)

He gives you a small smile and extends you a glass of water. You push yourself up, eagerly at first yet slow as nausea sweeps over you and you drink eagerly from the goblet. 

" Where am i? What hapened?" you stammer and Liam smiles before continuing soothingly

" In your tent" You look around to find your armour neatly stacked in one cornor and you begin to speak yet Liam overrides you

"You were smashed on the head as you tied up the knight you bested. Claatered you one, we didn't think you'd wake up for a week"

Where's my lance? Arcazon" 

"Dealing with a security threat, and you should join them if you feel fit enough?"

You nod your head eagerly and you get shooting pains in the back of your head causing you to blink furiously as lights explode before your eyes and you try to disguise them by pushing yourself out of bed and standing. 

Liam is not fooled yet he smiles

"Excellent, I'm no healer, but I personally prescribe fresh air and a quick ride to the top of the hill. Your horse is saddled and ready outside."

He aids you a little with your armour before leaving you to pull on the rest of your armour yet as you slip on gauntlets he returns with a refilled goblet of water and two roasted chicken wings which you gobble down eagerly, feeling the small pain in your stomach subside. 

Thanking him you slip outside and after checking your horses saddle ride to the top of the hill to arrive a little ahead of the rest of your lance, Hail Arcazon and report yourself fit and well.

________________________________________________________________

Part2

Much longer and overall the lance will remain together, READ ALL BELOW. THIS IS ALL IMPORTANT TO THE STORY plus if i do say so myself lovely and twisty turny

Francis in particular as you have specific parts dedicated to you
________________________________________________________________

Gathered upon the hill your attention turns to the elf as she speaks directly to Arcazon

"Well met Arcazon son of Savon, elf friend and Lord of the protectors. Your valour matches your fathers as does your features"

Arcazon visibly stiffens and his voice is quick and eager

"You know my father."

I wish to tell you more yet my time is short the beastmen attack the forest and I must speak with the lady of Quenelles. The men of Quenelles must ride to war or Athel Loren will be bathed in blood."

"Tell me of my father" demands Arcazon yet the elfs face turns sour

" As much as i wish to regale you with sentimental times your father is dying as we speak as are my kin, thus if you wish to see him you will take me to the Lady of Quenelles."

The tatoos upon the bare forearms of the man in her armours suddenly emit a reddish hue and the elf's face drains of it effervescent glow and her eyes grow tired

"Already battle is joined and elven blood stains the snow of Athel Loren" she pauses and adds "Well maybe not elven"

"Enough" bellows Arcazon and the pain and fear is evident in his eyes, though you see no hope, no desire to see his father only dissapointment.

"Put your wounded upon my horse, we will go faster and Vincente is fresh"

"No" cries the woman and you all turn suprised and she looks slightly abashed before adding "Place him upon his horse" she points at Francis "his horse is freshest. 

Arcazon nods and Francis clamps the wounded man against him as they begin to tear toweards the castle, clattering round pellmell tents. As you pass groups of errants duelling or cutting others free, they turn staring at the elf whose skin glows and hair is flying like a banner in the wind. They hollor to you and you cry out yelling for them to ready themsleves war is upon them and they take you at your word, eyes flitting over your bloodstained robes and the tattered scars in your horses barding.

The word spreads and as you reach higher ground once more you can see torches being lit and horses saddled as men rush over the camp, like ants below you, yet still you tear on. As you enter the city Arcazon takes the lead guiding you through the streets and your horses iron shod hooves clatter upon the slate below you.

Francis: You have the man clamped to your waist and his head lolls forwards and backwards before falling upon your shoulder. You hold it steady yet now you can hear words emitting from his mouth and you listen hearing feverish ramblings of a quest involving a quest he was given by a maiden and how he completed it by slaying a beast in athel loren. If you wish you can recount a little of the story but if not its not important, you have alot to say already. As you come close to the castle in the city and see the open gates ahead of you you realise something suprising, YOU UNDERSTAND THE ELF? Surely an elf would revert to his mother tongue during a dream? Yet you have no time to mention this as the below occurs

As you reach the castle causeway the two grail knights look up and they step into the middle of the gate, sliding swords from sheaths and raising shields. The message is clear, if you want to enter, get past this. 

" Halt in the name of the lady" yells one and you bring yourselves to a halt the elf leaping immediately from her horse and yelling

"I must speak with the lady, Athel Loren calls for aid" 

The grail knights do not hesistate and you follow the elf into the castle suspending the wounded man amongst you

Francis: Suspicious you grasp the elfs shoulders as you let him down from your horse and you feel that they are broad whilst his hood slips to reveal a tanned face and a small well trimmed beard below. Your suspicions are real, this is not an elf, but who is he?

One of the grail knights scampers up a flight of stairs whilst the other leads you into an ante chamber and you place the wounded man upon a couch 

The grail knight nods to you and flicks his wrist to indicate dismissal yet the elf raises a hand and you halt

"No they saved me from the beastmen they have a right to hear what is said"

They grail knight shrugs closing the door and you line up against one wall as a second door creaks open on its hinges and the Lord of Quenelles enters and you drop to one knee along with the grail knight. He is a magnificent sight, fully armoured and cloaked a gleaming crystal hilt at his hip. His gauntlets off you can see the pure power of his muscles beheath his male whilst his eyes bare the fatigue and wisdom of his years.

He waves dismissively at the grail knight who rises and you rise to though your not sure if your Lord has seen you.

"Where is the lady?"

"Dressing" snarled the lord and you notice the bite of anger in his voice and he continues

"However if the armies of Quenelles are to go anywhere, they go at my command and mine alone, the high lords of athel loren should remember that"

The elfs face flushed a little yet she raised her head and met the laws ferocious gaze

"The Lords of Athel Loren need your aid, the blood of athel loren has been spilt and more will fall and stain the snow every minute delay... The knights of Quenelles must ride to war"

"The knights of Quenelles must ride to Mousillon on the orders of the king and at the will of the lady" riposted the lord his voice flint

The elfs voice rippled and her anger built
"Our kin are dying and you will do nothing"

"Perhaps Athel Loren must realise I am not a puppet, if they have to pay that price in blood"

A tongue of flame rippled in the elfs hand and she jumped as the grail knights swords were at her throat in a flash. The Lord batted them away drawing his own sword

"I do not fear your sorcery elf for to kill me would be the end of any hope you have off rescue, yet I am not cruel, merely insulted at not being the master of my own dukedom, more a puppet on the string of athel loren"

"Enough" It was a strong voice and all eyes turned to the doorway in which the Lady of Quenelles was framed, her face veiled and her body slender and beautiful in her gown

"Will you not defend the brethren of your love, Lord of Quenelles"

"How do I know? How do i know that you were not merely a seed, a seed of love planted in my mind as I lay dying Eva? How can i tell you are not just a vessel they used to manipulate me? Do you really love me or was the time I saved your life a mere chirade? Was every word of love you ever spoke a twisted lie upon a forked tounge, another string knotched to my wrist to be tugged by the lords of your people"

You stand stunned yet the lady moves forward and tosses aside her veil. Slender ands beautiful her face is more pale than any you have ever seen, more fair than a summers morn, undoubtedly elven. Her hair flows a waterfall of gold and to look upon her is to see the beauty of the stars.

Her eyes met her lords, beautiful opal sphere, honest open and loving. The love was strong and she plants a gentle kiss upon her husbands soft lips. As her eyes open she looks over his broad shoulder and spots the errants standing against the wall and she blanches in horror snatching up the veil to hide her face yet she tosses it aside, knowing all is lost, the secret is out.

The Lord turns his sword still raised and with a snarl he moves towards you, the savage anger of a wounded frightened beast in his eyes, and you cower as this god of war advances upon you.

Whatever you do it matters not he is going to kill you, you want to run, hide flee the wrath of this horrific beast. Arcazon on the other hand steps forward drawing his own sword which he plants at the feet of his Lord yet he does not kneel

"You would draw a sword in your Lord presence?" booms the Lord anger shocked into submission for a moment, though it simmered in his eyes

"Yes I would my Lord."

"I could kill you with a stroke boy"

" I know my Lord however if I am to die I will do it as my father taught me. Standing upright my sword in my hand"

" Your father taught you well"

" If I am to die unjustly I will die like a brave man my lord. We had been invited here by the elf that asks for your aid, hence I saw what I saw by sheer circumstance. Another thing my father taught me is to keep my mouth shut and to do the bidding of my Lord. Thus if you kill me it will be blood on your hands, yet I will not stain the name of de Vala by cowering"

"Your tongue is loose and your tone far too insolent for one in your position"

"If i am to die I will die speaking my mind."

"Savon de Vala would indeed have died thus. Then tell me son of de Vala of these beastmen"

"We slew them upon brettonian soil as they persued her. Lord, I would not let such an insult to Brettonia stand"

The Lord raised a haughty eyebrow yet his rage was deflected and his riposte was cut short by a loud groan from the man upon the couch.

He writhes now concious clutching the arrow and suddenly he turns to face you all and the hood slips to reveal his face.

The room stands still as the painfilled eyes of the injured wretch seem to meet all of yours.

The Lord of Quenelles gives a gasp and the eyes of the knight lock with eyes that are the mirror of Arcazons his similar features marred by a thin brown beard

"Savon?"

"My lord" muttered the grail knight, bowing his head yet before the Lord could answer more the elven maiden had rushed forward and Savon's eyes softenend and he raised himself slightly to plant a gentle kiss upon her lips

"My love" he whispered yet his eyes moved past them all to where Arcazon stood face stricken and eyes wide

Savon too seems to twitch as the identical eyes meet and he whispers softly
"My son"

Yet Arcazon is already moving and he tears out of the door and you can hear the sound of running footsteps as he flees. Savon seemed to half rise before the elf and the lady froce him back to his bed.

The room seems to stay still for a second yet the Lord is first to react and he mutters almost to himself

"A Brettonaina wounded and Beastmen upon Brettonian soil, my hand is forced" and he turns to the two grail knights

"Raise the camp and send a messanger to the king, explaining the situation"

"The camp is already raised" blurts out Asmodeus "we raised them as we rode"

The Lord smiles a small grin yet he adds

"Still ring the bells, the lances must know that their Lord wishes them to muster for war."

"What of Savon?" adds the lady "The arrow is evidently poisoned, it will need my aid to heal"

The lord nods his mind elsewhere yet the lady rolls up her sleeves and moves towards Savon as the elf pins his arms to the couch and Bors you notice different coloured strands of light, these pure white and blinding flashing towards their hands and you realise, that this is not only the Lady of Quenelles but yet another spellcaster of athel loren

Your eyes flit from her to the Lord and he gives a sigh before turning to you

"You have seen enough, so i will explain yet the man to betray my secret will be crushed, this I swear in the name of the king" he warns "The people fear athel loren, the fear the manipulation of elves and the living wood that makes up so many of our nightmare tales. Hence we keep a great secret, as if were to be me to be seen to have wed Eva, an asrai noble and a spellcaster, it would only convince many knights that I am a puppet dancing to the tune of the asrai whilst the peasantry would fear me, believe i too possessed the power that terrorizers them"

"Then why marry?" muttered Guy

"Because I fell in love young sir, and to part me from eva would take more than politics,it will take my demiase to part me from her, yet we bear this secrecy, it is our burden and now yours."

Upon the couch Savon screamed as the arrow was expelled from his chest upon a glowing shaft of white light which poured from the wound and he roared as the wound sealed, back arching upwards before he flopped, body limp, though his chest heaved.

Both of the elves straighten up and move towards the Lord and he continues

"With Arcazon indisposed who will lead your lance to war"

His eye roves over you till they reach Asmodeus and he smiles and points directly at him before his eyes even meet Guy's

"You are the son of Julius D'aerthe"

You nod stunned yet he goers on

"You will lead the lance, no doubt Julius has regaled you of his skirmish with beastmen, if you follow his example you wont go wrong" he added smiling

(Guy in particular what can you do, Arcazon placed you in charge yet the Lord trumps his authority by miles... surely a reaction )

He flicks his wrist

"Now go join the muster, we ride to war soon"

Each of you bows and begin to move slowly out eyet his attention turns to Savon's lover (the elf that brought news) and he adds

"Let us forget our quarrel, will you ride in the lance with my guard"

She smiles yet shakes her head

"I will ride with the lance that saved my life" her eyes flitter over william and Bors and she adds "they interest me"

You all pause on the brink of exit and she smiles

"I owe them a debt, I believe I will repay it in this battle"

The lady too pipes up
"I will ride with my kin in the lance that brought the knews so promptly, it is only fit that I should bless them with my favour"

The lords face contorts yet there is nothing he can do, the women have spoken and to forbid them would have no effect

His flinty eyes turn upon you and he mutters to the room at large

"Then your lance will ride upon my right." and he adds in a growl to Asmodueus "If you let harm come to my wife, I will personally see that you never walk again"

with that he sweeps a hand and you exit as a lance...mounting your horses you begin to follow the mass of knights swarming towards the rally point, though you search the crowds, Arcazon is nowhere to be seen
______________________________________________________
Well well well bit of intrigue secrets and plenty to react to......
Quick summary of possible reactions
The return of Arcazon's father and his reaction to it
The Lady of Quenelles and her secret
The elfs decision to ride with you
The ladies favour
Asmodeus being given control of the lance
The Lords threats, and his wife in your midst

Before we go into the battle I want a little interaction and charactor time especially with these revelations, I'd like this not to be flitting from one battle to the next.. so a little internal reflection, reaction and quiet discussion please

Anything you see fit to react to please god damn do below are some suggestions

William: You remember the elf's prophecy of her own death at the hands of the beastmen, is it a cause for concern, should you alert the others or do you prefer to keep your own council and merely keep a closer eye on the elf?

Guy and Asmodeus: The twists in the leader of the lance plot have to be your main focus, Asmodeus time to prove yourself, plus the wait of the lords threat on your shoulders?, Guy maybe time to gain an ally in the relatively unknown francis or will he turn out to be a dishonourable imbecile too?

Denelias Francis and Bors: Each of you have posts in Part 1 to make, however I would like some reflection on some of the secrets that have been revealed to you and Arcazons dissapearances is it good riddance to bad rubbish, do you think running was rational?

Generally guys this post will take thought, you need to get into thy charactors head and react to the mass of information really, then we go to aid Athel Loren?

Note the responses and reactions can be internal though external would be nice, if we could get some convo going that would be great

Thanks and Questions please dont hesitate to ask
___________________________________________________________


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William had been towards the back of the lance as they all had raced quickly through the tents and towards the castle, the whole way there raising the alarm and shouting to the other knights. Once they actually reached the castle and entred William's blood was still pumping quickly through his veins and his senses were still straining to predict that next attack from any given enemy. Even once his pulse slowed he was still on high alert, it was something that he had learned at an early age from his cousins and family members while out and about in the woods around their home. 

When you were on the fringes of civilization you had to be on your toes the whole time, even when you were relaxing and resting, anything could happen at any moment in time. So when they all followed the Elven woman into the castle and lined up against the wall William stood straight up but with some give in his joints in case he needed to react quickly. Even though the idea was absurd after all they were in their lord's own castle, it was what he was used to doing, and so he stood and waited for their Lord and Lady to come out and address them and the situation at hand.

When he did William couldn't help but feel extremely unnerved by their lord's countenance and how angered he was once he actually noticed the lance standing at the back wall. Arcazon's stand both astonished and apalled William, apalled because he was standing up their Lord Quenelles and astonished that he had the courage to do such a thing, he was glad that their lance had such a leader. 

Yet that feeling soon vanished as Arcazon fled once he saw his father, something that William did not understand at all. He had been raised in a family that was very close to each other, cousins and second cousins were like brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles like second mothers and fathers, the thought of running from a family member did not register with him. It was obvious that Arcazon had not seen his father in a long time, if William had been seperated from his own father for that long and had suddenly been reunited with him he was sure he would not have run away. In fact he would have done the opposite, the leader of their lance's actions puzzled him and made him not only question Arcazon but also this elven witch.

Her prophecy still rung out in his mind, and now that he knew that she had a lover that was so closely related to their lance made William think that maybe her prophecy had a little bit more backing to it. While before this he just took it as some prophecy now that he knew her relations he knew that it was not just happenstance, nothing happened randomly of that he was certain, and he was certain that he must get to know her better if he were to truly divine the meaning of her words.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the revealing of the Lady Quenelles to be another elven witch, bloody hell it never ends, he thought to himself. He wanted so bad to say something out loud, anything really, but he kept his mouth shut as his father told him to do when he was in such company unless asked to speak. He glanced over at the two grail knights that had escorted them in hoping to see his father's friend but he couldn't tell because of how far from him they were. 

This was all a bit much for him, all these secrets and threats and whatnot did not befit him, he was a straightforward person and very blunt when speaking with others. All these twists and turns seemed inappropriate to him, while he did believe in feints and things like that in battle those were once in awhile occurings and he was always taught to use his armor and weight to the best of advantages. He had to admit though he was much happier that Asmodeus was chosen to lead their lance in Arcazon's stead, Guy was much too pompous for his liking and he knew that somewhere down the road they were going to get into a scuffle at some point, it was inevitable due to his attitude unless of course he changed which William knew was not going to happen especially now that he had his de facto position taken from him.

As they all made to leave William was one of the last in the line and so when the elven witch told the Lord Quenelles that she would ride with their lance he stiffened a bit, the red horsehair plume on his helm swaying a bit when she looked over him and Bors. To make things worse the Lady spoke up that she would also ride with their lance, were they trying to give them all a heart attack? They had the lady's favor but at what cost? The Lord of Quenelles was now going to be watching them all very closely, not that William minded the attention he knew it would not have an effect on how he performed, but he was worried because now they had a huge weight to carry on their shoulders.

He prayed to the Lady that all would go well and that Asmodeus would be able to keep his legs, before heading out with the rest of the lance and their new additions. He pulled himself up onto Sieg and saw that the Elven Witch was next to him, he felt responsible for her now and her safety, her telling him her prophecy had at first unnerved him but now he felt like there was a certain path that he had to take that was set out before him. 

As they made thier way towards the rally point he looked at the Elf and spoke so that only she could hear him, *"My lady, there is a path that has been set before me, and while I do not yet fully know what I must do I know that we did not meet for no reason. You said in your prophecy to me that not only would a loved one of mine die if I entered the crypts of Mousillon but also that you would die at the hands of the beastmen."* he paused waiting for a reaction but she was still listening so he continued, *"I promise to you that as long as I still draw breath in this coming battle that I will not allow you to fall." *


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## bobss (May 18, 2008)

Emotions coalesced and roiled throughout his dream, sweeping across him in a tempest of pain, like warm honey. False, it all was; made manifest within the garden of his mind. Amongst the orchard of emotions: the long-limbed branches, gnarled and crooked representative of his pain and the fruit-laden trees of peace. They were towering sentinels dominating the fragrant sky, but ultimately, as was contradictory to their beautiful image, fruitless and false. 

The grim truth bit down upon the corners of his mind, souring his thoughts. Surely here: a place spun by the very fabric of his inner conscience, borne from a delicate peace he so sought for, would shield him from the horrors of life? The mortal pains that wracked his body, assailed his very thoughts, tainting emotions with its impure presence. Even within his own mind, a sanctum of zealous purity to the burdens of reality, he was free?

The golden shards of morning light rained down in a hail of glass, his mind now bereft of precious time to ponder such.

Francis woke to the shining gaze of morning. Lidded eyes snapped back tauntly, as if bow-strings. Turquoise orbs for eyes, baffled by the shower of light cascading from the blue fabric of the tent _his tent?_, to bath his naked body blinked almost spasmodically in a haze of blindness. Groggily his arm crawled across his face to smear away the filth that had accumulated around his eyes. Gradually, driven by an unknown sense of festering intrigue, his hand dared forwards to his tapered brow. Francis bit back a string of crude and vile curses, as his slender fingers caressed a pulsating bruise. 

He turned sharply, aghast to see his squires fawning over his bed-ridden form. Irritancy welled within him, a heady bitterness like mulling wine. Any sense of morning peace he still held now torn asunder by this bumbling fools. 

Cavorting through threads of anguish, Francis crawled higher, to prop his throbbing head upon several plush cushions. His piercing gaze, rife with contempt for the peasantry trickled down their hunched forms, wrapped in vile cloaks of rough cloth, in turn garbed in the gloom of the tent. He chuckled lightly, the sound a dry rasp, honed to its sandy perfection by the excessive drinking of previous hours. The squires took this for acknowledgement and so view him through their graying eyes, pleading for whatever menial tasks he could conjure up to sate their thirst for loyal service. Francis almost enjoyed it, but sharply dismissed such a snobbish dishonor to his Knightly values. Untangling from the layers of silken sheets, Francis dismisses the throng of servants with a fluid sweep of his hand, cutting through the fogging blackness. Quietly, they left, but one remained. Anger frothed within his blood, the temptation of bestowing flogging upon this individual, mightily high.

'' You, peasant.'' he intoned coldly, and yet still it did not heed to his authority. '' Was it the incompetence of your previous master that led to the lack of your servitude? Or sheer ignorance as a whole?'', Francis spat. To this, the shadowy figure did indeed return his glare.

‘’ You would speak to me in such derogatory manners, boy?’’, returned the figure evenly, with little traceable hatred upon his words.

From the curtain of shadow, the man strode forth, unveiled from the inky tendrils of the twilight in all his glory: A thickly set man, with equally bulbous musculature adorning his limbs, a slight insult to his own wiry frame. _Liam _ he realised, somewhat foolish for his insulting manner earlier.

From the spooling dark, he drew a plaintive goblet brimming with water, clearly not for him. The man bade Francis to drink, baiting him to shift his posture and reach up for the crystalline foam. Pain gripped him feverously, seizing his mind, as his senses once more drowned in the vile tang of nausea. Francis snapped up, snatching the goblet from Liam`s hands and clasping it drunkenly, drinking big, thirsty gulps, blaming his dusted throat. Still his former puzzlement remained. 

“Where am I, what… what happened?’’, Francis spoke sluggishly, his arrogance making no attempt to cover his dire confusion to the matter at hand.

“In your tent”, the Knight replied evenly. Francis quickly lost interest, dismissing Liam`s concerns, his gaze drawn to the enrapture of his armour clustered within one corner: Greaves, cuisses, breastplate, pauldrons, gauntlets, all hanging upon a dark wood frame. Clearly his servants had already begun to repair any gouges from lance-strikes or rents from sword-cuts, despite his breastplates lack of sparkling, azure perfection. Liam gently cleared his throat baiting the young Knights attention. Francis began to speak, to relieve his mind of the cloying troubles, but was effortlessly silenced of his woe-

“You were smashed on the head, by the Knight you had bested as you bound him. Clattered you one, we didn`t think you`d wake up for a week’’, he explained roughly, accounting for the throbbing sore upon Francis’s brow in rather blunt detail.

“Where is my lance? Arcazon?’’, Francis asked quietly. His tone weary yet intrigued, with a speckling of worry.

“Dealing with a security threat, you should join them if you feel fit enough’’

Francis` deep eyes shone with renewed vigour, his heart thumping to a joy-infused staccato. Hot blood surged throughout his body, the promise of war and glories won upon horseback singing through his veins once more, ripping his spirit free from any tiredness, a tonic in his blood. 

“Y- Yes”, the young Knight stammered nodding his head monotonously, his eagerness overlapping all else. Quickly ripping free of the sheets he shot upwards, though quickly regretted such an ambitious move, gritting his teeth until splintering, wracked by white-hot pain lancing through the back of his skull. After the tide of pain subsided, a flotilla of lights assailed his vision, partly blinding him in a multitude of flashing colours, exploding from his dazed retinas. Feverously he blinked such apparitions from his sight, trying to distinguish the real world from the dream one. The firm carpeted ground calmed his racing pulse, meeting his bare feet, the bedrock upon which his struggle to stand prevailed. Any dignity he had retained now cast aside in front of one of Liam`s nobility. Francis was met by a balanced smile, neither the warm compassion nor hearty respect of before, his show of weakness the antagonist of such. Frustration was now rife within him, to lose face to another Knight. 

''Excellent, I'm no healer, but I personally prescribe fresh air and a quick ride to the top of the hill. Your horse is saddled and ready outside.” offered the Knight gently, not fooled by Francis, but still humouring him in the slightest.

Francis shambled towards his armour, with Liam en toe. He scraped around for his cotton under layers before his thick leather jerkin; rinsing his smoothed face in icy water, rivulets of water straggling his long, raven hair. A firm hand gripped his rear, slapping his surprisingly light breastplate upon his torso, belting the worn straps from behind. Inlaid sapphires, gilded in gold-leaf filigree sparkled in the morning light; Liam began to attach his mundane greaves and cuisses, leaving Francis to his vambrace and lastly his hefty iron gauntlets. Looking around, he saw Liam return with yet more water, but with a fine platter of roasted chicken wings, their rich, gamy scent wafting to his nostrils. Francis gorged upon their succulent flesh with the occasional gulp of water, gobbling down the paltry meal, and sating the acidic pain within the well of his stomach.

Belting his sheathed sword – its weighty presence reaffirming – he strode from the tent, giving due courtesies and goodbyes to Liam, striding into the ambient glow of the fresh morn. Dazzling, baffling his eye`s for long moments whilst he trod the mud towards Gilleux. Cursing loudly, Francis saddled the nimble horse, spewing any misshapen curse or blasphemy that came into his raw mind, gleefully promising to lash his squire for such a lack of duty. Finally, he hoisted himself upon Gilleux`s back, the horse neighing to acknowledge his armoured form. Drawing his brass spurs across the beast’s flanks, Francis began a slow trot, skirting past the rest of his Lance towards Arcazon, hailing him as he crested the grassy knoll.

“Sir’’, he began, drawing Arcazon`s glare, “Liam tended to my wounds, all is… well’’, he implied, adding a slight smile to carry his argument across. Arcazon took no heed and merely nodded.


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Pushing Auguste forward to reach Denelias before the knight got to far ahead, Bors managed to reach him first and the pair wiped out what beastmen had been left to act as archers. What happened next was an interesting one to Guy, after the pair had slaughtered the beasts, Bors turned on Denelias and began to verbally bash him. As the two had at it, Guy turned to Arcazon, as the lances leader it was he who had ultimate say, and it fell to the gallant to put an end to such a squabble. 

Looking to his gallant though, all Guy gets in return is a stare and a slight nod and the message is quite clear. A lance’s gallant could deal with his knights in any way he saw fit, and here Arcazon saw fit to allow Guy to handle things while Arcazon dealt with the elf woman.

Kneeding Auguste, he cut Denelias off and moved in close to the fellow youth before backhanding him across the face. _“Enough damn-it, get control of yourself and stop acting like a brat with no training or restraint unless you want to dishonor your family as much as possible. The choice to break from the lance to seek your own revenge could have left others exposed and led to injury that would have been your fault. What would have happened if in your foolishness you left us only for more beasts showed up? Was such a thing going through your mind when you left us to your own devices?”_ Guy said, locking eyes with Denelias before finally saying, _“Form up with the rest of the lance, and be thankfully that the lady has seen fit to give us something far more pressing to keep our minds on,”_ and turning his attention to Bors.

Riding up alongside the other knight, he leaned over so that the words that passed between them would not be heard by others. _“Denelias was wrong in what he did, make no mistake of that; best to keep an eye on him in case he attempts something more foolish.”_ Guy said before pushing Auguste forward once more to crest the hill and reform with the others.

He did not know what the elf woman had said to Arcazon, but from his features and words whatever it was the lance’s leader clearly wanted her to go on; but alas she would not for whatever she had said was of lesser importance than the beastmen that had been chasing her, for whatever reason they had. _“The men of Quenelles must ride to war or Athel Loren will be bathed in blood."_ She said, and Guy couldn’t help but look away in slight anger.

*The stories spoke of how the knights of Bretonnia and the Elves of Athel Loren would fight alongside each other against the beasts of the north and the mutants that they led, but who was this woman to even say that the knights under the lord of Quenelles must ride?* _"Tell me of my father"_ Arcazon demanded, and there it was, clear as could be for Guy. That was what she had said to him before, that’s what changed his mood completely.

_ "As much as i wish to regale you with sentimental times your father is dying as we speak as are my kin, thus if you wish to see him you will take me to the Lady of Quenelles."_ She in turn responded, and though Guy wanted to interpose himself between the two, he did not. He had seen the look flash on Arcazon’s face at the mention of his father closing in with death, and he knew that he would not have been alone in hearing more of such a thing had he been in Arcazon’s place. But that was the price of leading, your wants and desires had to come second in the face of something of greater importance.



The tatoos upon the bare forearms of the man in her arms suddenly emit a reddish hue and the elf's face drains of it effervescent glow and her eyes grow tired _"Already battle is joined and elven blood stains the snow of Athel Loren"_ she pauses and adds _"Well maybe not elven"_ With those words, Guy couldn’t keep the anger from his face, moving to raise his blade to the elf but was cut off by Arcazon.

_"Enough"_ bellows Arcazon and there is a mixture of pain and fear about him, but his shout does its job and silences the woman as well as stopping the lance from acting. After some moments, the wounded elf is transferred to Francis before the lance rides to the castle of the lord of these lands, shouting to other knights to ready themselves. Entering the city within the castle proper, Arcazon moves forward and takes the lead, guiding the lance with an ease that Guy had found the man lacking before. Arcazon had not seemed right to lead the lance before, now not only was that not the case but he wholeheartedly took the tip of it as he always should have. Though there was the possibility of not being able to lead the lance himself, it was a comfort to see the group’s leader where he should be.

When they had reached the stone and wood gates of the castle itself, their way was initially barred by a pair of knights, but the elf woman managed to turn them back and the group proceeded into the castle of the lord of Quenelles. It was far greater than the land he grew up in, though he was nobility like his father, and they were far above the peasantry, the lord of these lands was the same to most knights. Dismounting from his horse, Guy moved over to Francis and helped him in getting the wounded down, aiding him in supporting the elf as they moved through the corridors of the castle.

With his attention focused on where they were going, Guy did not notice the elf’s hood slip at first; when he did his eyes darted forward to the head of the group and then to Francis. Pulling the hood back over the wounded man’s head, he silently mouthed for Francis to say nothing. He did not know who this elf man was, or why he looked the way that he did, but now was not the time.


Lining up against the wall of the larger chamber, the entire lance drops to a knee when the lord of Quenelles enters; Guy bowing his head after taking in but a glance of this lands lord; the man was everything a knight should be and more, everything a lord of knights should be. Rising slowly, Guy merely listens to the exchange and unfolding events. That was until the Lady of Quenelles entered and moved to embrace her lord, revealing what was hidden beneath a veil only to discover that there were others within the chamber who should not have seen what they did.

In an instant the Lord of Quenelles is rushing towards the lance, and though Guy wished he to move anywhere but where he was, his body refused to budge; he was effectively helpless and left to watch as his death walked forward to claim him. That is when Arcazon did something that Guy would never have expected from the man, he openly defied the Lord of Quenelles and stood his ground in front of the man. The exchange between the two was like something out of one of the old stories, a brave young knight standing his ground against a king in the wrong, speaking of just and unjust acts and staring death in the face while maintaining the honour of one’s family name. Were Guy not here to see it with his very own eyes, there was no chance he would believe these events to be anything more than fiction.

They exchange between Arcazon and the Lord is, however, cut short by the moaning of the elf they had been carrying; though he writhes with pain, the elf man turns and his hood once again slips off so that everyone can see his features. _"Savon?"_ The Lord manages to say, confirming what Guy had feared and hoped to simply be his eyes playing him for a fool. They had not though, the elf man they had carried and helped, the injured man was Savon de Vala, father of Arcazon de Vala. When Savon’s gaze turns to Arcazon though, the lance’s leader runs from the chamber, unable or unwilling to remain; Guy wanted to run after him, to keep him from leaving, but he remained where he was. Arcazon was choosing to sully himself by fleeing, nothing could change that.

_ "Raise the camp and send a messenger to the king, explaining the situation"_ The Lord orders the knights in the chamber before Asmodeus blurts out that they had already done so on way up to the castle. Finally, the Lord of Quenelles begins to explain himself, though in truth he need not do so, for why should such a man feel the need to explain himself to a lance of young knights? Never the less, he explained himself, promising to enact terrible punishment on anyone who betrayed this secret.


_ "Then why marry?"_ muttered Guy _"Because I fell in love young sir, and to part me from eva would take more than politics,it will take my demiase to part me from her, yet we bear this secrecy, it is our burden and now yours."_ The Lord answered and in return Guy bowed his head. _“I will not betray your secret my lord, it shall remain as such no matter what happens.”_ He said, knowing that not even death would force this secret from his lips.


_ "With Arcazon indisposed who will lead your lance to war"_ The Lord said, not so much a question, more a matter of thinking aloud. _"You are the son of Julius D'aerthe"_ He says, to which none in the lance are able to do or say anything. _"You will lead the lance, no doubt Julius has regaled you of his skirmish with beastmen, if you follow his example you won’t go wrong"_ he added smiling and it took every shred of will for Guy to keep his face impassive. The same could not be said of his hands, clenched in tightly balled fists. Arcazon had trusted him to lead the lance against the beastmen, had trusted in him to deal with Denelias. He had done everything right and of his own ability but it was Asmodeus who was to receive praise, and for doing nothing. Had their places been reversed, Guy knew that he would think nothing of it, to be elevated because of his father’s own standing would be enough. He would be able to show others that he was able to stand on his own; but even that knowledge was not enough.

As the Lord motions for the lance to leave, Guy moves to the head of the group, walking alongside Asmodeus. _“Congradulations are in order for you my gallant, how is the lance to be organized?”_ He asked, for it was an important matter. Would Asmodeus be as Arcazon and not lead from the head? Would he immediately take over and choose who he wanted where? Would he have everyone choose their position? Asmodeus was the leader now, the responsibility of the lance, of everyone riding with them and those they protected, all of that would now be Asmodeus’s responsibility.


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## Fumble Tumble (Oct 3, 2008)

Denelias continued shouting at Bors, his anger evident and plain as day. Bors was replying in kind and shouting back, when Guy walked straight up the middle and backhanded Denelias across the face, shocking Denelias in silence, to retreat into the depths of himself, and to stay there brooding listening to what Guy, who was so full of his self, the arrogant arsehole. He did not have the right to slap Denelias. He started shouting at Denelias "Enough damn-it, get control of yourself and stop acting like a brat with no training or restraint unless you want to dishonor your family as much as possible. The choice to break from the lance to seek your own revenge could have left others exposed and led to injury that would have been your fault. What would have happened if in your foolishness you left us only for more beasts showed up? Was such a thing going through your mind when you left us to your own devices? Form up with the rest of the lance, and be thankfully that the lady has seen fit to give us something far more pressing to keep our minds on,” Before turning and riding away with Bors. 

As he rode after Guy, Denelias' head was filled with thoughts of revenge, how he hated Guy with a passion, his arrogance filled the air like a sour smell. He reached the top of the hill, and stood on the outskirts of the lance, his mind racing with thoughts of anger and fury, not listening to what the others had to say.

Soon the Lance rode off, and Denelias followed at the back, trailing after the others like a dog trails behind sheep, apart from the rest of the lance, different, because nobody understood him, they all had their cowardly ways of staying behind.

His mind only realized where they were going when the two grail knight stopped the lance, questioning them and then leading them off, they were going to see the Lord of Quenelles himself, Denelias drew further back from the lance, his face was cloaked by shadows.

They entered a room, and the Lord soon rushed in, his face afire with anger, he was definitely not happy, he started talking, and Denelias was soon drawn into the arguement, his anger momentarily forgotten, as the elf tried to challenge what the Lord was saying, suddenly a flicker of flame enveloped the elves hand, and the grail knight drew their swords, threatening the elf, the Lord the drew his sword, batting away the grail knights weapons like a dragon bats away a fly.

The lady enters and speaks calmingly to the Lord and his face is released from anger, the she raises her veil, showing a smooth beautiful face, that is definitely elven, she kisses him. As she is slowly kissing him, she spots the lance standing against the wall, and she scrambles to put her veil back on, but realizing the secret is lost, she throws it to one side.

The Lord turns and advances upon them, drawing his sword, Denelias wants to run, he will die if he doesn't, but he cannot move, he is frozen in terror, Arcazon, on the other hand, obviously isn't, He steps forward and draws his weapon, planting it on the ground in front of the Lord.

The Lord is astounded, he stands there with his mouth open, before finally speaking in a choking voice of shock "You would draw a sword in your Lord presence?", Arcazon replies "Yes I would my Lord."

"I could kill you with a stroke boy"

" I know my Lord however if I am to die I will do it as my father taught me. Standing upright my sword in my hand"

" Your father taught you well"

" If I am to die unjustly I will die like a brave man my lord. We had been invited here by the elf that asks for your aid, hence I saw what I saw by sheer circumstance. Another thing my father taught me is to keep my mouth shut and to do the bidding of my Lord. Thus if you kill me it will be blood on your hands, yet I will not stain the name of de Vala by cowering"

"Your tongue is loose and your tone far too insolent for one in your position"

"If i am to die I will die speaking my mind."

"Savon de Vala would indeed have died thus. Then tell me son of de Vala of these beastmen"

"We slew them upon brettonian soil as they persued her. Lord, I would not let such an insult to Brettonia stand"

The wounded man starts groaning again, and the two elves rush to help him, their majic leaping into his body, cleansing the wounds with magic.

Arcazon, sees his face and runs from the room, his face sad and angry, the wounded man tries to crawl after him, but he is forced down by the elves.

The Lord scowls, "A wounded brettonian and beastmen on brettonian soil, my hand is forced, raise the camp and send a messenger to the king, explaining the situation"

Asmodeus blurts out suddenly "we have already raised the camp, we did it on our way here" the Lord smiles and nods, "but still ring the bells, the lances must know their lord need them"

The Lady continues to heal Arcazons father, as Denelias looks back and forth between them, what is going to happen to the lance now that they know

"You have seen enough, so i will explain yet the man to betray my secret will be crushed, this I swear in the name of the king" he warns "The people fear athel loren, the fear the manipulation of elves and the living wood that makes up so many of our nightmare tales. Hence we keep a great secret, as if were to be me to be seen to have wed Eva, an asrai noble and a spellcaster, it would only convince many knights that I am a puppet dancing to the tune of the asrai whilst the peasantry would fear me, believe i too possessed the power that terrorizers them"

"Then why marry?" muttered Guy

"Because I fell in love young sir, and to part me from eva would take more than politics,it will take my demise to part me from her, yet we bear this secrecy, it is our burden and now yours."

The wounded man screams and then flops back as the arrows are forced out of him, magic flooding in to heal his soul and his body.

Both of the elves straighten up and move towards the Lord and he continues

"With Arcazon indisposed who will lead your lance to war"
He looks at Asmodeus and smiles and points

"You are the son of Julius D'aerthe"

Denelias looks at Asmodeus appraisingly, the son of a great warrior.

"You will lead the lance, no doubt Julius has regaled you of his skirmish with beastmen, if you follow his example you wont go wrong" he added smiling

Denelias smiles, Guy would not like this, Guy had been trying to get into a leading position since they arrived, yet he finds himself cut off by the lord himself, who he cannot deny, futhermore, Asmodeus doesn't like Guy, so he is likely to make Guy elow the rest, Denelias could probably get his revenge after all.

He flicks his wrist

"Now go join the muster, we ride to war soon"

Each of you bows and begin to move slowly out, yet his attention turns to Savon's lover and he adds

"Let us forget our quarrel, will you ride in the lance with my guard"

She smiles yet shakes her head

"I will ride with the lance that saved my lifethey interest me"

You all pause on the brink of exit and she smiles

"I owe them a debt, I believe I will repay it in this battle"

The lady too pipes up
"I will ride with my kin in the lance that brought the knews so promptly, it is only fit that I should bless them with my favour"

The lords face contorts yet there is nothing he can do, the women have spoken and to forbid them would have no effect

His flinty eyes turn upon you and he mutters to the room at large

"Then your lance will ride upon my right." and he adds in a growl to Asmodueus "If you let harm come to my wife, I will personally see that you never walk again"


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

Even amidst the thunderous charge, the crucial moment of their attack, Asmodeus’ mind wandered.

He couldn’t deny the bitter taste, despite knowing Guy had earned this, and he had yet had a chance to distinguish himself.

-Not permanent, is he going to keep switching us based on small victories, or even whimsical favour? This isn’t a game… And what if we only get one opportunity each…-

The Errant knight jumped slightly in the saddle, Propero had veered over, pulling to a central position. He couldn’t blame his steed; his own hands had subconsciously guided him over to the familiar slot. Asmodeus bit back an oath as he chastised himself, how could he have been so absent minded?

No time to think about it now, the first of the Beast men was already right before him, side-stepping out of the ill-placed strike from Asmodeus. The second Beastman was merely shunted aside by Propero before the third in the line was skewered by his lance, an explosion of blood and splinters accompanying the strike.

The swirling melee flew by so fast, Asmodeus whipped out his blade – an enlarged, curved dagger- as made quick slashed at the filthy beasts. The Claymore remained fixed to his back; he’d been to late to draw it as was in no position to use such a large weapon now.

Amongst the automatic, combat movements that overrode his slower thoughts, the word ‘unprepared’ stamped down.

While his steed was fully armoured in its heavy barding, the errant knight himself was dressed in nothing but his robes and a mail shirt, having no time to don his heavy full-plate. He felt exceptionally bare on the battlefield.

Before he knew what was happening, a small volcano seemed to erupt in there midst as a bright flash of fire ravaged the beastmen just before his eyes. It took him a moment to realise that what had happened had been a result of the Elven woman, fire at her fingertips; Magic.

It was the first time he had witnessed it, sure he had heard stories, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t know whether he felt cold, vulnerable, in awe, or simply afraid. Thankfully he didn’t have to stand their and contemplate the issue, because before he knew it they were on the move again, the battle apparently having dissolved around them.

Asmodues turned and he laid his eyes upon the commotion at the hill, during the battle Denelias had broken from the lance and charged the arches, Bors had apparently gone after him and proceeded to verbally dress him down because of it. It didn’t take Guy long to ride over to them, Asmodeus remained where he was, eager to see how the head of their lance would resolve the issue. He was slightly taken back when Guy opened by striking Denelias across the face to slience him.

-Interesting.-


Asmodeus goaded Propero into movement as the rest of the lance joined with Arcazon and the Elven woman. The Elf had said something to their gallant, and he was obviously flustered, but Asmodeus had missed it.

‘I wish to tell you more yet my time is short the beastmen attack the forest and I must speak with the lady of Quenelles. The men of Quenelles must ride to war or Athel Loren will be bathed in blood.’

‘Tell me of my father’ demands Arcazon yet the elfs face turns sour

‘ As much as I wish to regale you with sentimental times your father is dying as we speak as are my kin, thus if you wish to see him you will take me to the Lady of Quenelles.’

So the Elf knew his father, though the woman seemed to have decided that that topic was of far less importance than routing the Knights of Quenelles.

The tatoos upon the bare forearms of the man in her armours suddenly emit a reddish hue and the elf's face drains of it effervescent glow and her eyes grow tired

‘Already battle is joined and elven blood stains the snow of Athel Loren’ she pauses and adds ‘Well maybe not elven’

Asmodeus thought he detected a sly tone to the Elfs words as she added that final sentiment, his anger twinge slightly, trying to lead them into battle like they were fools…

Arcazon silenced the woman, and the lance finally rode into action, heading back towards the castle. Many eyes were drawn to the Elf woman, though they managed to break their stupor by calling them to arms, seconds later the camp was a buzzing hive of activity as knights scrambled to ready.

Asmodeus was slightly surprised at how easily the Elf managed to turn aside the guarding Grail knights, though he mused he probably shouldn’t be. He did not understand the working of the fey folk with his own Lords. It wasn’t long before the errants where rounded up in a small chamber, lining up against the wall. The entire Lance seemed to drop as one when the Lord of Quenelles entered, Asmodeus only caught a glimpse of his face and form, but it was enough.

Their Lord was almost magnificent to behold, a true knight, Asmodeus felt some pride at just sharing his presence, even if he didn’t realise they were even there.

He was forced to avert his gaze again as the Lady entered the room, the Lady of Quenelles in the same room as their lance… Evidently their Lord had not seen them, as he turned upon them with an almost feral look as the Ladies veil slipped and revealed a secret that errantry knights should certainly not b privy to.

Asmodeus felt paralysed as the Lord beared down upon them, sword drawn. He tried to move his hand to the hilt of his dagger, but he couldn’t budge in the face of his killer… Hardly an honourable fall.

Though it is Arcazon who steps forward to save them, Asmodeus could hardly believe it, he didn’t want to judge their Gallant, but he never would have predicted this from him.

And so an exchange unfolded before them, one between a Gallant of an Errantry lance and the Lord of this land. The unbelievable confrontation was cut short however, by the wounded man they had brought here.

"Savon?"

"My lord" muttered the grail knight, bowing his head yet before the Lord could answer more the elven maiden had rushed forward and Savon's eyes softenend and he raised himself slightly to plant a gentle kiss upon her lips

"My love" he whispered yet his eyes moved past them all to where Arcazon stood face stricken and eyes wide

Savon too seems to twitch as the identical eyes meet and he whispers softly
"My son"

Yet Arcazon is already moving and he tears out of the door and you can hear the sound of running footsteps as he flees. Savon seemed to half rise before the elf and the lady forced him back to his bed.

The room seems to stay still for a second yet the Lord is first to react and he mutters almost to himself

"A Brettonaina wounded and Beastmen upon Brettonian soil, my hand is forced" and he turns to the two grail knights

"Raise the camp and send a messanger to the king, explaining the situation"

‘The camp is already raised, we raised them as we rode.’ The words shot forth from Asmodeus, had hadn’t seen them coming and could do little to stop them. The Lord welcomed the news however and continued on. It wasn’t long before Guy questioned the joining of their Lord and Lady, though the Lord seemed to brush him off in a rather romantic fashion.

‘With Arcazon indisposed who will lead your lance to war.’

The piercing eyes of their Lord swept down the line, pausing and boring into Asmodeus’ before he was even halfway along.

‘You are the son of Julius D'aerthe.’

He couldn’t find words this time, a nod was his response.

"You will lead the lance, no doubt Julius has regaled you of his skirmish with beastmen, and if you follow his example you wont go wrong" he added smiling

It wasn’t a request, or a question. The Lord had turned away before waiting for a response, taking it as done.

Asmodeus didn’t move, the leader of their lance had left Guy in charge, yet he was gone, and there was no questioning whose authority was higher. He couldn’t help but feel slightly hollow; Guy had fairly won leadership and had made no mistakes whilst in charge. Yet it had been plucked from him and given to Asmodeus while he could do nothing to protest. He was proud that the Lord recognised his Father as an able warrior, yet he didn’t feel that merited him taking the lead.

His flinty eyes seemed once more to bore into Asmodeus as the rest of the room filed out.

"Then your lance will ride upon my right. If you let harm come to my wife, I will personally see that you never walk again"

What was he to say to this? Nothing, he was glad he kept his face impassive in the face of a threat from their Lord, yet he felt weak being unable to respond…

He turned silently and left the room. Seconds later, as he predicted, Guy made his way to his side.

“Congratulations are in order for you my gallant, how is the lance to be organized?”

He muttered back, so only Guy could hear.

‘Congratulations? It was hardly deserved; you don’t need to mask your bitterness if we are going to work as one.’

And with that Asmodeus turned to the rest of their lance, raising his voice so they could hear.

‘It seems this is the situation we are in until Arcazon returns to us, and I don’t intend to flounder in his absence. I will lead from the front of the Lance and Guy will take the position I occupied, the rest of the structure will remain how it was before. Any objections?’


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

Denalias was a bastard, that Bors was sure. Foolishness had overtook him, and he had spluttered a series of rage filled snarls and curses at the Arab-Brettonian. Bors however, would not reply. He swore that if he did so, Denalias may have lost his tongue to the blade of Bors. As much as he would enjoy that, it was not going to happen while the young Palamedes still rested in his saddle happily, perhaps if the pair came across one another in the games that Bors would give him no rest. That was if there was to be games now? 

It did not matter; Bors was a Knight, not a plaything that could be enjoyed by the peasantry and his fellow Errant’s, or even the scrumptiously curved maidens that his eyes had dwelled upon groggily every now and again. Nasib was breathing heavily, emitting moist clouds of air that fluttered and died, leaving wetness upon the reins. The horse was clearly stressed, and the blame was laid firmly upon Denalias for the sole reason that he had broke ranks and pursued his own vengeance. Maybe their small confrontation would have wiped that from his disobedient mind?

Guy, at least Bors believed the particular Knight to be Guy, although he was honestly not sure, came up besides him and the deep abyss of thought was scrubbed from his mind. Silently, Bors nodded his appreciation to the Errant and smiled, barely forcing the corners of his mouth upwards. He was certainly wise, and Bors knew he spoke words of wisdom for such a young man. After he had finished, the smile fell away into a frown and Bors made for the Keep with the rest of the Lance, although a jewel encrusted armour wearing Knight, one which Bors did not recognize had made off slightly earlier with the injured man in his hands.

He took in the splendor of the castle as he marched throughout it, his hand resting upon the pommel of his blade tightly. He remained at the back, his lips pushed against one another tightly. This was a place of luxury, he thought to himself calmly as they seemingly pushed deeper and deeper. No matter what Bors did, for some reason his mind rested solely upon the thought that they had pushed into the very depths of the earth itself. Finally they came into the chambers. Bors followed his fellows in going down on one knee, although he had not actually noticed that the Lord Quenelles had entered until Guy, nearby had bowed his head.

It was however, against his traditions. A Palamedes would not bow to a superior fully, and instead simply inclined his head so that it stared against the ground before pushing his back into the wall and sliding himself upwards. The Lady of Quenelles was a truly beautiful thing, perhaps, Bors mused, even as curved as the Elven lady they had been graced with the presence of previously. He did however, almost chuckle when the Lord hissed “I could kill you with a stroke boy” and Bors muttered beneath his breath, so that none bar him could hear “Then come and try, so-called Lord”.

While it would not gain him a friendship in the court of his liege, he cared little about what his fellows thought of him. Apparently, the Knight, Asmodeus was the son of someone named Julias, and that he would lead them. Was this the favoritism in the presence of the Knightly Lord? Probably, however Asmodeus had thus far been a good fellow, one of which Bors did not mind the company of, and thus he accepted it. War was coming faster than he had first presumed…..


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## bobss (May 18, 2008)

A faint mist plumed from Gilleux`s nose in agitation, his fidgeting form sweating profusely beneath Francis` leathered saddle; not for the first time - the Knight remarked eagerly, his gaunt brow arching a single, slender brow in anticipation his to-be amusement - on how his squire`s neglect to said duty, amongst a lack of others, would lead to a punishment fitting, if not a little enjoyable for Francis, his cruel whip in hand. 

His traipsing of thought, borne unwittingly from the abyss of outright boredom, wandered to yet another whisping reminisce. The faintest sliver of a memory, silver-lined and thought lost. Though still to tragic relief his beguiled mind could relive its dire tale: the metallic bitterness of burnished iron; the struggle of wind-bitten flesh against maggot-riddled hide; ornate steel hammering against crude brass. His father, purposely crouched low with sword raised – a traditional stance after the loss of one`s mount - whilst hacking and dually spitting crimson phlegm from his snowy beard. Deftly he circled a horned beast of chaotic bulk, slabs of muscle bound by thick,cables of sinew. This battle of Man and Beast beneath church like tree bough’s dripping with spring moss. The beast roared, a hoarse cry punctuated by guttural bellows, clasping a bastard imitation of a wooded-axe and thumping its brazen haft against shoddy armoured-plate. His father lunged with the honed precision and ferocity of a steppe-lion. Blade first to pierce corrupted flesh, his strike twisting in a manner alien to the swordsmanship of the lowlands, to tear deep, so its keen edge could drink well of tainted blood.

''Father...'', Francis garbled, retching the sound out, chocking upon the syllables. Several Knights turned snobbish gazes to him, to such a scion of Kislev, and impure son of Bretonnia. His lips curled into a snarl, they heeded his threat and turned their noble attire once more to Arcazon.

Francis turned his sneer away from them, wiping curls of drooping hair from his eyes, to better view Arcazon. The Knight held his position like a true Bretonnian, his attire oozing noble passion and heraldic tradition. Encased with interlocking plates of polished steel, unspoilt by yet neither a single fleck of mud nor ugly rent of lance, mirroring the verdant, lush green of the hill upon which the host had gathered, like a sheet of mirrors. His bare head held untouched by any ungainly helmet, just as with Francis. Though where the lack of such protection and knightly custom helped better portray Arcazon’s regality, it only heightened Francis own gaunt, murderous look. 

His dark gaze swept from Arcazon to the fey girl he now spoke with, after all appropriate titles and dignitaries as false as they were blatant, petty and brimming with pathetic poetic value. Her lithe figuress tempted his youthful appraisal, sparking the fiery urges no spate of wine-induced drunkessness nor sword bout could ever truly replicate. His mind`s eye roving across her pinched features and tapered eyes, her eyes pools of glistening enchantment, and slender, pale limbs only drew out his appreciation of her body. 

Francis snapped upright, his slouching now gone and replaced by a taunt, straight back. His flesh digging into protruding plate uncomfortably as he heard the Elf girl speak of Arcazon`s father, and the troubles of his liege. Listening acutely, Francis plucked out more; mostly sentiments concerning the Elves of the wooded realms, now joining battle against the vile intruders to their forests.

A deep voice boomed through the hill, splitting any trace of tiredness still veiling Francis` somewhat drugged sense, intoxicated by the pungent aroma`s of the nymphine forest; Arcazon`s voice was a thunderclap, clashing against the peaceful morn. His stern retort spurned the girl to speak openly of her plight, Arcazon kindly offering the Elf to place her wounded kindred upon his horse - Vincente - commanding, if not enjoying how his bold stallion was the freshest and most worthy of such task. 

No! The girl replied, her shrill voice cutting through the host of Knights, to their clear disdain. As if forced to justify herself to the Lance she pointed towards Francis with a finger, calmly adding-

''Place him upon his horse, his horse is freshest.''

Francis clipped his brazen spurs into the moist flanks of Gilleux gently, the horse baying and nosing forwards towards Arcazon. Arcazon nodded his approval and lightly backtracked to allow Francis to grip the wounded man, already feverish and clamming from unseen ailments. Steadying his uncontrolled form against his mount, they raked sharpened hooks into their irritated steeds, galloping towards the castle, a grand bastion of stone rising against the natural decor of the landscape.

Cutting through the multitude of tents: Towering Knightly structures of heraldic insignia, forked by snapping banners of golden embroidery, drowned and chocked by a sea of more plaintive tents, housing the milling population of servants and Men-at-Arms during the respite of war. They sped through roads bustling with yeomen and flanked by forgeries, like an assassin would slice through a crowd. Many Knights: Sparring with one another, dining upon roasted meats or merely caught within the awe conjured from the Elves presence gaped at the Elven male now straddled across Francis and his mount; wiry, blonde hair fraying in the wind, crackling like a wind-wracked flag, oiled skin glowing almost magically. Their awe diminished within mere moments, the realisation of encroaching war and the encompassing rigours of professionalism of such a proclamation of battle, overcoming whatever mythical sight their hearts now yearned for to see again.

The Errant heralded Francis and the Lance, hollering the galloping throng as iron-shod hooves tore clods of earth from the - now cleared - road, barking to squires and servants to ready weapons from grimed blacksmiths, polished suits of plate and saddle their own mounts, looking upon the unmistakable and rich, crimson blood spattered across Gilleux’s barding and Francis` own breastplate.

As if the vast myriad of coloured tents has set ablaze by some sorceress flame, word spilt from loose mouths to yet more eager Knights and their accompanying servants, an uncontained tide of rumour washing through the camp. With it drawing hastily saddled Knights and other Bretonnian`s running either side of the road, as it snaked ever higher up towards the Castle.

Peasants jeered lowly from their menial jobs and filthy hovels, and calls of praise burst from the zealous lips of squires and servants, accompanying their gallop as they at last crested the thick set oaken gates of the city, moving at a trot below the sturdy stone walls into the mouth of the gate. Francis peered behind him, his grip upon the wearied Elf still tight, still secure. From his almost godly view, humans looked more akin to ants, swarming amongst horses and brandishing flaming brands. 

Calls from the peasantry of the city droned on, most praise or awestruck gibberish. Ignoring this lowly racket, his mind once more roved over the swathe of green carpeting the far off vale, only to be peppered by the twisting forests and the fey folk beyond.

_The forest... _, he loathed it as he welcomed it. His Fathers struggle a decade before branding its ugly and never forgotten sigil into his spirit, whilst its interloping pillars of wood calmed him from the prospect of the boredom that lie within the court of his family manse and those of the other noble households dotted throughout the kingdom.

The chatter of ironed hooves upon slated cobbles served to burst his rose-tinted reverie. He turned to a passing Knight, but a blur of scarlet, a barely distinguished head giving him a stiff nod towards the city, his look of nothing but contempt. The helmeted Knight`s prompting took heed, Francis followed Arcazon swiftly. Slotting in beside him within moments, he followed Arcazon, as he rode a slow course through waves of bustling city folk.

Lost amongst the roil of the press of bodies, Francis drew his gaze back to the form of the Elf now bound to his shoulder and Gilleux`s spur-raked flanks. A mournful moan bubbled from the Elves` lips, his sweating head lolling as it floundered against his left pauldron, slipping across the metal. Tightening his leather reins with his right gauntlet, he gently held the gaunt Elf with his left, to a faint staccato of whispers. Francis heart leapt, he thought the Elf was beyond the land of the living, his mind in the bondage of whatever afterlife his people sought after. Intrigued he pressed his ear to the man’s jaw, listening for more of this, something deep within his soul intent on whatever this delirium-infused nonsense may be: Shutting out the squabbling cacophony of hateful sounds, he attuned his mind to the feverish ramblings.

Garbled words, often half-chocked upon, yet still clear enough to know spoke of a quest - A quest given to the Elf by a nymph maiden, her beauty that great it diminished that of the other Elf girl upon the border to Athel Loren, the Elf had slewn a great beast that had strayed into the Elven realm. He got a picture, so incredibly clear and radiant of a amber light that even the mosaics and stained glass scenes within cities Cathedrals paled in comparison: The girl garbed in a long gown of silk, a tapestry of autumnal praise, gifting the _man_ with poetic verses, with an underlying and fraught seriousness.
Then he realised with a stomach-lurching thud.

_I know of what he speaks! I... Can... Can understand his gibberish? What, How? He speaks of riddles, of a fool’s errand, damned and ending with his near-corpse across me... and yet I can understand such things? How? Does he gibber in a human speak? No doubt to snare me in his web of lies... do I receive yet another picture within the recesses of my mind of his plea? Fed by sorcerous magicks? Or... can I recognise his own Elven tongue? _


From the sprawling expanse of huts and cobbled houses, the procession-like throng came towards the stalwart bulk of the castle, slitted by dozens of arrow openings and capped by Trebuchet`s mounted upon the parapet. Thick gates riveted by equally immense iron bars, lay open, and a giant maw open to the world. Trumpeted wails sounded from the Keep, a harsh tune barely above downright distasteful he thought. _Surely this Elf would harp on about past quests in his mother tongue?_ His mind raged, battling with any reasonable thought, straining not to falter against the harsh, unrelenting truth-

They reached the castle`s causeway abruptly, the throng of Knights falling into step with a proffessional ease, honed by many a pre-battle charge or formal greeting. Flanked by the frothing waters of a deep moat, two Grail Knights looked up briskly, their tattered crimson uniforms and splayed shirts of mail a stark testimony to their deadly combat experience. Plotting long strides, they stepped into thethe middle of the gate, sliding aged swords of an old design from leather sheaths cracked and frayed and raising shields drooping their barding and stained colours. Their message was blatant: Turn and politely leave, or enter by force and die to their martialle skill decades old.

" Halt in the name of the lady", spoke one, his voice grave if a little husky. They brought themselves to a direct halt. Barely had pennants stilled upon the points of lances, when the Elf leapt nimbly from her horse and spoke-

"I must speak with the lady, Athel Loren calls for aid", he tone neutral, not the false warmth of magically spun origin, or a cold and direct challenge. 

Undaunted by such a rare and mythical sight, her beauty counting for little amongst the comapny of such veterans, the Grail Knights did not hesistate and walked back down the cobbled causeway. The Elf skipped along, her grace a match for the relentless pace of the Grail knights. The rest followed vigilantly into the cavernous confines of the castle.

They reached a bulwark in the layout of the Castle, an intersect in which the low ceiling of smoothly hewn granite forced the Knights to dismount. A huddle of servants flooded from alcoves set within the walls, a glare of torch-light illuminating the hall. Francis distastefully batted away one young boy, as he himself shifting the weight of the Elf from Gilleux`s side. Suspicion welled within him, as he grasped the almost human-like weight, contradicting the Elf girl and all other tales of the nimble Elves. Clamping his shoulders, once more bemused by their broadness and the dense musculature binding them. Frantically Francis let him drop onto the slate floor, and snapped back his hood, to a faint gasp. Francis realises that he looks upon no Elf or being of the woods, but a man. A human. A tanned face with dazed eyes returns his own questioning stare, a well-trimmed beard forcing the final few nails into the metaphorical coffin that he was an Elf.

_Who... Who is he?_


Up a set of onyx stairs, torquing around the hollowed chamber, one of the Grail Knights scampered, whilst the other, with a distinctly curved scimitar slung about his waist, led Francis into the antechamber. Francis grunted with the effort of holding the Man, setting him down upon a plush couch.

The grail knight nodded once Francis was comforted, flicking his bony wrist in a manner indicating dismissal, loose chain-links chiming to the motion.

"No they saved me from the Beastmen they have a right to hear what is said", spoke the fey Elf girl, now with a more commanding presence.

The Grail Knight shrugged his square-set shoulders, closing the oaken door. Francis lined up against one wall, its touch cold and smooth, as a second more ornate door creaked open on well-oiled hinges. The Lord of Quenelles enters, perfected by an aura of magnificence. The youth, despite his strong Kislevite traditions and proud distrust of Bretonnian nobility, dropped to one knee to the clang of plate upon stone along with the Grail Knight. Somewhat loathing his acceptance of the regality of the Lord. Such a divine sight fully armoured in pearlesque metal and cloaked a gleaming crystal hilt at his hip. His gauntlets were tucked beneath his gold, mailed arm, off so the gathered could see the pure strength of his tense muscles beneath his tight mail whilst his eyes bear the fatigue and wisdom of his years, a weighty and strenuous task as rewarding and insightful.

Turning his face, flush with Kingly warmth both intoxicating as righteous, he waved dismissively at the Grail Knight, who arose quickly, daring not to tempt whatever wrath his master may hold. Francis bade to stand too, though not sure whether the Lord had noticed his presence.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Great posts guys, bobss in particular spectacular :goodpost: (always wanted to use that)

BAV the elves havent joined you yet however I will filter your comments into my post
________________________________________________

In the formation Asmodeus describes you move forward into the thick of a long trail of knights. From afar it looks pellmell, a roaring tide, yet as you join the trail, you realise it is a tribute to the organisation of the Brettonian army. Every lance is separate yet somehow united no knight, taking any risks leaving a gap between each horse to prevent any possibility of a chance accident.

The trail snakes towards the rally point and you find that it is taking you past your little cluster of tents. Looking behind you, you see a long trail of knights and you realise you have time to duck in and grab maybe a bite to eat or a small amount of water or grab anything that you may wish to take to war, a lucky charm? the letter from family, or even your canteen of water. Also those whose lances snapped should grab a new one from inside your tent (i assume you would have a spare especially with the chance of a long protracted war ahead of you)

William: You leave the tent first mounting your horse to help you look over the crowd. Your gaze wanders over lances of knights to see the lady of quenelles and the elf in the midst of a group of women, the women wearing white with blue sashes to show there allegiance to quenelles. The lady is no longer veiled and she and the elf both bare swords at there hip and long green cloaks over there garb. 

They unlike the knights infront and behind move as a fluid gaggle, unorganized, whilst the knights around them are quiet and sombre, prayers to the lady within their mind, the womens laughter peels out slicing the silence however there is no attempt to stifle the unnatural burst of noise.

The ladies face is indistict yet from the tremble of her slender shoulders you can tell she is laughing as well and you marvel that these damsels, these women picked by the fey enchantress, once children gifted with an abnormal power, now women their talents honed in the other world.

It is odd to see these women , soon to be advisors and protectors of the lord of the land now laughing, still feminine and graceful despite the training of the fey. It is the elf that spots you and they move slowly towards you the damsels continuing upon the path whilst the lady and the elf enter the gaggle of tents, solemn once more.

Your eyes lock with the elf and she kicks her horse towards you as the lady jumps down to kneel in the dirt hands clasped around something. As she approaches you bow your head and say

"My lady, there is a path that has been set before me, and while I do not yet fully know what I must do I know that we did not meet for no reason. You said in your prophecy to me that not only would a loved one of mine die if I entered the crypts of Mousillon but also that you would die at the hands of the beastmen." 

"I promise to you that as long as I still draw breath in this coming battle that I will not allow you to fall."

The elfs eyes have not left yours and though her lips smile her eys were filled with pity, yet there is a distance there and she murmers

"Oh to be young and believe destiny is your god, fate just another challange for you to overcome. I have read the future, read its misting paths, and i see only my death at the end of them."

She reaches out and pats your arm

"William I have been alive for 632 years, I am ready for death. So long as i take the shaman with me, I have no regrets."

The finality in her tone tells you that the conversation is over yet still there maybe a few things you wish to react to as she moves away to join the lady who is suddenly deep in conversation with Bors.

Bors: You come out to find William in conversation with the elf and the lady kneeling upon the ground her hands clasped around something. You suddenly see strands of white light glistening as they stream towards her hands and a long red rose snakes up around her fingers curling and arcing as it grows.

The lady becomes aware of you and you see her back stiffens as she notcies you are gazing at the air around her hands and not at the rose. She stands pulling you close and you can almost taste her scent feel the tight clench of her fingers around her wrist. 

"You can see the strands, the winds of magic in the air"

You nod slowly and she pushes her golden hair back so you can see that slender face, the beauty of it breathtaking, yet her eyes are shrewd and calculating.

" Have you ever made something unusual happen or has something inexplicable happened to you, young when you were about 8or 9. 13 at the latest."

(Such an event has happened to Bors at some point in his life
Have a look at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lores_of_Magic and choose one of the 8 lores, maybe an encounter with a wild beast that tamed to your will without effort despite snarling and murdering on moment before, something going up in flames of just dieing in ur hands. Nothing too big da if you want to talk to me about it first thats cool)

Your answer is listened too and the lady nods yet she merely considers you a moment more. 

"On the rode to mousillon we will talk more about this, somehow you have slipped through the fey enchantress's nets"

Is this ominous or is the presence of more time with the lady a comforting bonus.

ALL THE LANCE: Whatever you do in your tent, you do in your tent yet when you emerge you find the lady and the elf in your midst and you form up, the two elves in the very centre of the lance 

You stare at the lady amazed by her garb and her unveiled features and she smiles at you all eyes twinkling

"Two elves rode into Quenelles, two elves can leave it"

Masses of knights stand in ordered groups and you see the Lord of Quenelles banner flying high above the crowd a stern grail knight bearing it aloft and you move towards it cutting through the gaps till you fill in upon your lords right. 

Not until you see the mass of knights and a second unit of old and experienced grail knights sitting upon your right do you realise the honour you've been afforded. To be so close to your Lord, the envy of the other errants may swell your pride yet does it also cause fear nerves, will you screw up, the price of failure under your Lords eyes. Is this honour truly deserved, faint traces of beastmen blood upon your gauntlets may quash that doubt.

Does Asmodeus's leadership and Arcazon's absence unsettle you?

A quick glance to the left shows the lord his dark eyes floating over you though they are all ready glinting with the light of battle and your arrival seems to spark a new urgency in him and he spurs his horse forward 

"Knights of Quenelles we ride to Athel Loren" 

______________________________________________________________
Not going to discuss your journey so the scene skips to the very edge of athel loren

You crest a rise to find the beastman horde bellow you, though the stench smoke and sounds of braying have been reaching you for along time. It is a mass of bestial forms, swarming amongst the charred remains of tree stumps huge monsters, minotaurs and giants distorted twisted pillars in there midst.

The sheer size of the mass below you is petrifying and you cant help but feel breathless as you look on. Within the forest you see flickering shapes and massive piles of bodies between the trees though the asrai are nowhere to be seen. There presence merely marked by the arrows that cut down the beastman

Disgust should rise within you, especially denelias and guy at the lack of chivalry and the asrai's use of ranged weapons however your attentions may be stolen by the mammoth horde swelling below you.

A quick look at the Lord and the grail knights on either side of you, serene and unperturbed gazing impassively upon the battlefield, restores your senses and you kick your horses forwards to fall into place once more next to your Lord.

Lance after lance falls into line yet still the horde seems impregnable, a seething mass of horns and talons. The sound of a sword sliding from her sheeth causes you to turn and you see the lady of quenelles a blade in one hand a long oak staff in the other. 

Her elven face is incandescent with rage and it lifts your spirits that she can be so brave in the face of such a sea of brutal enemies.

It is then that the Lord spurs foward leaving his escort of grail knights though the banner bearer (the white unicorn of quenelles running as it ripples in a slight breeze( and one damsel, her face calm and serene bearing the marks of years of service, move with him. He rides along the line raising his hand and a hush descends.

He lowers it and there is a rustle as knights dismount whilst others plant themselves upon one knee bowing there heads.

You immitate them, realising that it is time to pray to the lady for guidance, for her protection in the battle to come. You lower your head as the Lord of Quenelles voice booms out absurdly loud and powerful. Bors sneaking a peak upwards you see streams of light eminating from the damsels hands and realise she must be projecting his voice, yet to the rest of you the lord must seem like a god, powerful booming voice drowing out all others, holding your focus.

"Today a travesty occured, beastmen have begun to ravage Athl Loren and the blood of the Asrai already stains the ground. Worse still they dared enter brettonian soil attack the Brettonian errants that ride upon my right. I commend there valour and spirit in holding off the attack and bringing the news to me"

Blushes rise over your face yet they are spared by the fact that you kneel sheltered by your horses. A sheepish glance at the grailknights on your right gains you an approving glance yet the Lord moves on quickly

"Now the lances ride forth to cleanse the blood from our hands and aid our elven allies. This is an affront to our honour we shall not bear"

He stands on the saddle of his horse armour glinting arms thrown in the air and sunlight bursts from nowhere to burn upon his breasplate, Bors another look at the damsel means you know wiser but to the rest of you he looks like a God bathed in sunlight voice roaring filled with emotion

"Errants, in the name of the lady let me hear you roar"

You throw your heads back and roar to the heavens and it swells around you as the blood lust and the desire for battle building within you

"For our honour we fight today, to cleanse the filth from our lands and to save our allies we draw sword today"

"For honour" roars the Lord

raising his arms and there comes back a seemless echo as a multitude of voices including your own roar back at him

"For the King" You can feel the excitment building within you as the call to arms

"Now let us pray to the lady" and you lower your head hand slapping upon your breastplate as the Lord intones the knights vow, pausing to allow you to repeat his words, though each of you know them by heart having written them and repeated them many times.

When the clarion call is sounded
I will ride out and fight in the name of liege and Lady
Whilst I draw breath the lands bequeached unto me will remain untainted by evil
Honour is all
Chivalry is all

He pauses and then adds

"May the lady protect us and guide us in this battle, for our sweet land of Quenelles."

He raises his hand and you rise mounting your horses the adrenaline lost to a fixated calm. The oath has been taken and you must keep it.

The Lord raises his sword and horns are raised to lips and the beastmen below previously unaware of your presence so fixed upon there assault turn as the Lords sword flashes and his charger rears before plunging down the incline.

With a great roar the knights of quenelles charge you in there midst keep up with the grail knights on your right yet the Lord and his escort outstrip you with ease horses pure and strong.

The front line are beasts with bowmen previously intent upon loosing volley after volley into the trees they turn eyes widening as you charge towards them. You see the bows stretch yet you see the ladies oak staff swipe the air and there is a crack and a flash of light amongst those nearest you and the beastmen are loast from sight for a moment.

They reappear staggering blindly blows lost from there hands as they shield there eyes howls of agony cutting the air. Kicking your horses fowards you accelerate as the Lord of Quenelles and his retinue impact, lances down in a splintering mass of blood and guts

Asmodeus: As the head of the lance 20 meters from the bewildered and blinded bowmen you have a choice to make, your first as the leader of the lance. PRESSURE INDEED

The blinded beasts are no threat and behind you can see warriors, fully grown snarls upon there lips rushing towards you, 50 yards away. Will you use your lances now and risk bending them or having them torn from your hands or will you draw sword and hack at these bewildered foes, the line is fairly thin and if you can break through you will be able to hit the foes rushing towards you at pace with your lances.

Rest of the lance: Once asmodeus has given his orders you hit the line your horses pushing blinded warriors aside like water the falling beastmen screaming as they are trampled under there hooves and yet there are enemies either side of you. The line being thin 3 enemies each, kill them as you will.

Not the most thrilling situation for you all but it will get better as you get into the thick of things

Mainly I want your reaction to the fear of a full battle, is it thrilling terrifying? Do you see hope that Quenelles will win the day, or do the masses of Gors intimidate you. Also what do you think of the minotaurs and other monster which you can see in the distance.. do you fear them or are they but a new challenge to conquer.


A


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

The tent was silent. Bors moved across the laid out red carpet, which furrowed beneath each footfall that he took. It was inlaid with golden weavings, which curled towards the black orb in the centre. His armour was chaffing his tanned skin and trickles of perspiration beaded his brow. It was rather annoying for the young Palamedes who was sternly searching for a old family heirloom, a golden trinket, which had once belonged to his grandmothers great-grandmother. While it was not worth anything in particular, it was said that whoever wore it gained great luck. 

In the day and half or so that Bors had been in the camp, he had already lost such an ancient necklace! Bors was an idiot for letting himself do such a thing, but he knew that it had to be within the confines of the tent. At least he hoped so. A glimmer between a pair of lances, which leaned like drunkards against the tent wall caught the corner of his eye. He snapped his head around, squinting his beady eyes and found what he wanted. 

Several centimetres of gold shaped into a outstretched winged eagle, wrapped in a fine layer of silver chain and beaded with traces of emerald and ruby glared at him. He lowered himself as quietly as he could, reaching out with armoured fingers. He gripped the unfurling chain with the tips of his fingers, carefully maneuvering it along the lengths of each and pulled it free. It dangled in ponderous gripping hands for a moment, before he threw it over his head and tucked it neatly into his armour. 

He then took one oaken lance, hefting the thick length upwards so that he took hold of the handle, which was protected by a rounded slab of iron. He leaned it into his shoulder and marched from his tent, the flaps of the entrance blowing inwards to meet him as he did so. They embraced his wide shoulders as he slipped free, and the sound of voices alerted him to something nearby. The Elven Ladies, both lithe and beautiful, conversing with William. 

The Lady of Quenelles was kneeling upon the ground, her hands clasped tightly together as if in prayer. Strands of white light, like serpents rising from their holes, begun to slither towards her. A equally amazing rose, its petals crimson rose upwards from her hands. Her arched back stiffened as her eyes locked with those of the Errant Knight, and he smiled worryingly and tried to pull his jaw tighter. 

It had slackened and gaped open when he was watching the Lady, but now he managed to clench his teeth with a dull screeching noise as teeth scraped across one another. She stood, her clothes unbundling from the kneeling stature and pulled Bors closer with a tight grip around the wrist. Taken aghast by such a movement, his lance dropped to the ground with a twang akin to a bowstring unleashing an arrow. 

She spoke with a voice of a siren, utterly pulling in Bors to her. For a moment, he wanted to embrace her, but that would only leave him dead at the feet of the Lord of Quenelles. She moved her hand through her golden mane, pulling it back so that her face came fully into view for the first time. High cheekbones flanked a pair of orb like blue eyes, which were enveloping; yet completely intelligent. It was clear, the Lady was no street corner dwelling whore. 

When she asked him if he had ever had any peculiar encounters, he was thrust back to the Great Desert of Araby, and told the maiden of a tale….

_The stallion was certainly not like Nasib. While well muscled like Nasib, it bucked and neighed at even the slightest of movements in the golden sand below. His Grandfather rode up ahead upon a white fleshed stallion. It was the first time he had visited Araby alone without his father or mother, and his nervousness around his indigenous people clearly made them weary of his movements. However the bearded form of his Grandfather had welcomed him with open arms and a great feast amongst his people had herded many to his family’s palace-estate. 

Now he was accompanying a great train, consisting of several hundred Arabian’s across the Great Desert. The sun above pounded his skin, and it had blistered his rein clutching hands so painfully that he had been forced to brandish gloves. A turban was wrapped around his head to keep away the rays, and only his small eyes were shown from within. They were currently moving across a monstrous dune, which rose up above all others like a God amongst his people. 

His Grandfather led the way, flanked either side by a pair of black armoured bodyguards which Bors did not know the name of. Each carried glittering crystal spears in their right and left hands respectively, and while the one on the right was the larger of the pair, Bors knew that the smaller one posed a far greater enemy for any who dared attack the old man they protected. 

And then it happened. Bors’s mount lost its footing as it strayed towards the edge of the dune, wanting to devour the small desert growing plan which rested there. The sand shifted beneath its bulk and Bors tumbled with it, flipping end over end. Luckily; the sand provided a cushion against the weight of the horse. He was thrown free of the saddle after three rolls, and sent rolling forwards. The stallion was already dead however, its neck snapped by the impact of the fall and it simply continued to slide after Bors.

He could hear worried cries from the train above over the pounding in his ears however it mattered little now as an avalanche of gold-orange sand rolled down after him. He was pulled under in seconds, and threatened to suffocate as sand filled his mouth and burned at his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity of crushing sand and darkness, he pulled himself free. The sun was retreating behind the dunes around him, and his bearings had all but fled him as he patted away the sand from his olive fatigues. 

A sudden hiss alerted him. His hairs stood up upon his arms and neck, and he instinctively reached for the hooked dagger at his leather belt. he clawed at his side, searching for the hilt of his weapon. He almost yelped when he realised it had come free, and now only a sand clogged scabbard rested there. He turned as the sound of shifting sand, terrible and tremendous, reached him. His fists clenched and he brought them up against his chest, knuckles whitened with effort. 

A monstrous serpent stared down on him with glazed blue eyes. Maddened and hungry, a dark grin stretched across its segmented lips as a pair of giant crests outstretched from the green scales at its neck. Both were coloured orange, yellow and black and could easily cover a pair of horsemen side by side from the sun. Rows upon rows of razor sharp fangs, each the length of forearms shorn from within its mouth as a long pink forked tongue licked at the air. 

It was tasting the air, looking for a scent. Clearly blind, thought Bors as he backed away. However the sand slipped beneath his foot and he was sent clambering to the ground with a thud. The serpent looked down upon him, hissing louder than a trumpeter can blow his instrument. Slowly and mockingly its head twisted towards them in a curling movement, and its huge nostrils flared for a moment as it took scent of the fear which had overcome Bors. 

It nudged the young Palamedes in the chest, and a mixture of wonder and shock washed over him. Was it playing with him? It recoiled its head, eyes down turned and looking apologetic towards Bors and curled its head back into its back. A arrow suddenly cut through the air, and bounced harmlessly against its massive scales. Bors swung his head off towards the side, and watched in relief as several Arabian riders in the livery of his family tipped a dune. 

More arrows rained downwards upon the serpent, which spared Bors one more look before it slithered back beneath the sand. Bors watched the hole in the ground as it collapsed in on itself, as his Grandfather threw himself free from his mount nearby and ran down the face of a dune towards Bors. The young boy got up and with weakened legs ran forwards, gripping his Grandfather in a tight hug. 

Tears streamed down the face of his Grandfather who kissed the head of Bors and smiled…._
The Lady nodded as he finished his tale, Bors gulping without a sound as he did so. That seemed like a age ago, however it was a matter of several years. She moved away with the other Elf, telling Bors they would speak more on the journey. He felt joy in that, such a gracing from a enchanting beauty such as the Lady would make the richest and most handsome of Lords and Kings hearts swell with jealousy.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

Right primarily, a mighty pissed off deathbringer at the lack of posting or response to pms, 22 days. Darkreever in particular has to be commended for keeping me informed on the whys he hasnt been posting and da for actually doing it.

However I understand we all have exams and the shit is hitting the fan for the end of term but this rp has been up since christmas, yup almost 6 fricking months and only 100 posts and not even half of my intended story done.

Consequentially I am updating however i am going for smaller updates, and I'm talking mini jumps, which will need maybe 100- 300 words from each of you.

Honestly I dont think that is to much to ask, and maybe we can make a little progress.

Quite simply i'm giving everyone till next monday midnight (GMT). All that want to stay in this rp, please please please get your posts in by then.
_________________________________________________________________
Asmodeus's orders come through just in time and you raise your lances, drawing swords, easily slicing through the blinded and bewildered bowmen, your lances falling as a mass of steal as you hit the beastman line which is now reeling, the front disturbed by the commotion of your charge. The gap is long and your momentum means you begin to catch your lord,whose lance was not aided by the sorcery of elves.

The line seems to solidify, a mass of bestial claws as gors and ungors, raise there heads and below there bestial war cry, does it inspire terror, anticipation or blood lust within you?

The Lord of Quenelles himself pulls himself up to sit straight, roaring alloud 

"Knights of Quenelles for the Lady"

His eyes are searcing for your lance, and Asmodeus you alone, see his face meld into a smile of approval as he finds you horse a length behind his own your own mouth bellowing its own innate war cry as you push forwards and your lances fall.

The beastmen heads lower, sharp horns facing as they begin there rush, pushing forwards upon powerful legs, coming to meet you head on.

You follow Asmodues's orders tightening the line, Guy and Bors horses necks almost touching Asmodeus's, the two elves safely nestled in your midst.

There is a great roar and your lance hits the line...

Asmodeus: (Sorry mate you have a bit more as the leader of the lance your orders define how the story goes) At the tip your weight and momentum provides your lance extra impact whilst the onrush of the gors means your lance tears through the firsts chest as he attempts to stop and avoid the fatal stroke, the lance pierces his ribs with a sound of splintering bone before crushing through the throat of a second Gor and knocking another backwards, he stumbles and your steed tramples him easily. 

The screams of war ring in your ears as you drive on, issue your orders. 
To your view you see several minotaurs in the distance there lumbering forms enraged as they crush recklessly through their own warriors desperate to reach your lines.

What you can tell ifrom your vision, is that the strongest Gors and various creatures of this beast herd, were at the front of the battle, and you know not what foul creatures have already entered the forest, however some of those stronger warriors are getting closer, speeding there from the forest edge, killing if they need to, desperate to reach you.

What will your orders be, how will you react to this new threat, will you alert the lance now or ensure they are focused on the current threat.

Bors Denelias Guy Francis: Your lances lower and you tear into the beastmen, the odd bowed horn cutting the barding of ur horse, tattering the coloured cloth but deflecting off the chain below. the odd claw may snatch at your foot, or tug at your bridal but you cant kick them off or your momentum is to great as your lance tears forward like an arrowhead, pushing through the mass warriors with ease. You may keep an eye on the elves occassionally, they are in your charge, fire burns in there eyes yet they seem to be concentrating almost hypnotic. What sorcery are they bringing to bear. 

Each of you will kill a beastman with you orginal charge, one run down by your stead, and one by a method of your choosing, be as inventive as you have time for

Formation, Bors on the left, Francis behind him.... Guy on the right Denelias behind him. Ladies in the middle william behind, asmodeus obviously the point of the arrowhead.

(Note: Bors you see no strands of light which may confuse you, yet you do feel the build of power like the rumbling menace of a storm.)

William: As the rearguard, the elves are mostly your responsibility, for only you are watching there back, and as well you are for you are on edge, after the ladies imcomprehensible acceptance of her own death. Well it wont be happening on your watch. As well you do watch, a beastman that had just avoided death under the hooves of Francis's steed pivots with subtle grace and reaches for the tail of the elfs horse. Spotting the danger the offending hand is sliced away easily by a powerful stroke of your sword and he howls, bellowing a challenge, that is silenced by a second slash

A little behind the others, you push hard to catch up when, a huge Gor steps across you and you spur your steed forward and merely ride him down hearing the crack of bones under hooves. 

__________________________________________
As said before, smaller updates CH unfortunately slightly longer. Please get posts in or at least pm me


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## darkreever (Apr 3, 2008)

Not a moment to soon, Asmodeus finally gave them the word and they barreled into the enemy, tooth and claw not a match for heavy Brettonian steel. Over the death cries of the enemy, the sound of bone shattering beneath the charge filled Guy's ears and he allowed himself the briefest of smiles. Tearing out his blade and swiping down at the nearest enemy that made it between his lance the the lance behind him.

The battle cry of the beasts sends a wave of disgust and revulsion through Guy's bones when they attempt to rally; such things trying to frighten those who would bring them their doom. What was the point of such a thing? To break lesser people into running? These fools would learn their mistake soon enough then. *"Knights of Quenelles for the Lady!"* At the sound of those words and the chorus of roars following it; Guy could not help to contain a cheer of his own, stabbing downward with his lance and impaling a beast.

Without warning, Asmodeus bellows out a war cry and pushes forward, to which Guy lends both his weapon and voice. Thats when Guy saw what Asmodeus saw, the lord of Quenelles ahead of them, close now; to ride by the side of their lord, Guy would have pushed the lance to do the exact same thing were he leading. Pushing Auguste to the side, Guy moves the warhorse so close that his saddled leg actually brushes up against the side of Asmodeus's own horse.

Lowering lances once again, they tore into the beastmen; the colours of Guy's household being torn and knicked where the odd blade and horn tried to find weakness in Auguste's barding. Unable or unwilling to look to the women that were groups to protect, the hairs on Guy's neck were standing on end and he didn't like it one bit. Whatever they were doing, hopefully it would be over soon. Hacking down at a particularly ugly beast, Guy's blade carves into the meat before its neck, dragging the thing that much closer before dashing its brains out with the heel of his armoured boot with a sickening crunch.

_"My gallant, do we splinter them further as a whole or widen the gap?"_ His question yelled out over the sounds of battle, Auguste making short work of yet another monster; this one had been carrying the warhorn blown mere moments ago.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William could feel it in his chest, the sensation that his father and grandfather had always talked about when around the table for meals, that fire that burns in your chest and drives you towards greatness when on the field of battle. It was his first time experiencing it full force and he had to admit he could understand a little why his grandfather still rode out to protect Stahl Herz against the foul beasts that were so frequently attacking it. 

The lance, at least to him, seemed almost perfectly balanced at the moment, Bors, Denelias, Guy and Francis all forming the middle with Asmodeus at the tip and he himself at the back. Having the two heaviest riders at the front and back seemed like a powerful one/two punch to him and he grinned as Asmodeus gave his orders and they charged through the first line of beastmen and into the second behind them. 

Like the rest of the lance he bellowed his own warcry as his lance skewered a beast through the chest and snapped. He pulled out his sword in time to see that the Elven Witch he had spoken to earlier was in danger from a beast that had some how escaped the death that had been intended for it from Francis's steed. It pivoted and reached for the tail of her horse but William sliced its hand off, fould blood shooting out, it turned and bellowed a challenge only to have its throat run through by his sword.

He pushed Seig forward, the horse's muscles powering it towards a Gor that stood right in his way. This is what his family was best at, this is what they and their horses were trained to do, run the enemy down, and that is exactly what he did. The fire still in his breast William clenched his teeth as Seig barreled over the Gor, the horse's weight crushing the beast. The sound of snapping bones reached William's ears and he smiled, this was magnificent, he was most certainly no stranger to the horrors of battle, having seen men come back from small skirmishes with limbs missing and other injuries. Yet that thought did not frighten him, if he died he died with honor, and if he was to loose a limb then he would take a limb in return.

He caught up to the Lady of Quenelles and the witch and raised his shield in time to block a hit from a beast before turning Seig and letting his horse deal with the threat. He reached out with his sword and pierced a beast's head through its eyesocket, the tip of his sword coming out of the back of its head, before tearing it back out again. He looked up to see if Asmodeus had given any new orders and watched the two ladies to make sure nothing happened to them.


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## Concrete Hero (Jun 9, 2008)

Battle, its thundering din exploded all around them and it had only just begun.

Asmodeus was pleased by how quickly and smoothly the knights on his flanks drew in after he issued his orders, bunching up into a tight wedge as they thundered forwards.

There were many Beastmen before them, the living carpet charging forward with tooth, claw and horn. The anticipation of battle had given way to a hotter, more bloodthirsty feeling.

As their lance closed in on the foul enemy, Asmodeus recognised the form of their lord in the handful of seconds where he turned around, his heart almost jumped when he saw the smile on his face, the look of approval.

The small gesture galvanised his charge and he let loose a bellowing warcry, lending his voice to the attack as he drove Propero forward in the last few metres, their Lance crashing with the bewildered bowmen.

The force and speed of their charge sent the Beastmen in their path sprawling, the silvery flash of sword put a number of the Beasts down that would not rise after their passing. A few stray claws and horns bounced against their horses, though nothing more than robes were torn.

He could not decipher the looks on the front line gors faces, but he fancied they'd feel some surprise as they saw their this lance explode through the bowmens ranks and hurtled towards them.

Their lances fell with a smooth unison and it was mere seconds before they impacted into the Beastman lines. The speed and power of the charge caused his lance to rip straight through the chest of the first as it made some attempt to stop him. The momentum carried them forwards, his lance spearing another beastman, an explosion of blood flying from the torn throat. A third was knocked to the ground by his deceased comrades, though the powerful stamps of Propero crushed the Gor before he could rise.

Claws and blades nicked at their armoured forms, towering over the filthy scum, though they were too close and the damage was mainly superficial. Asmodeus drew his blade and swept the steel before him, kicking out at another Gor.

A small tingle of apprehension fluttered into his mind as he remember the charges of their lance, though he made an effort to suppress them.

-_William has them covered, it is my duty to watch from the front, not turn my back_-

It helped, though the nagging feeling did not disappear.

As Guy spoke, Asmodeus caught sight of a number of particularly large Beastmen wading through the ranks of beastmen as if they were children. Large bull men, towering over their smaller kin, sporting large horns that look easily capable of goring a horse.

-_Minotaurs._-

Asmodeus felt his heart race as he saw the beasts, what an honour felling one would be, a true challenge! It was the same calming wave that he felt, and he heard Guys words again in his mind. He shouted out to the Lance.

'Large Beastmen make their way to our lines, Minotaurs. Destroy the filth around you as they approach, when they drawn near we will rear back and push through to them.'


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

(OOC: I done a post yesterday, but it was lost...Sorry about that)

Nasib was charging. Perspiration bisected the black hide into various sections as it ran freely in seemingly well organized rows, that was until one dripped into another and it became a glistening white blob. The Beastman shield wall grew ever more prominent as Bors spurred his stead harder in the ribs, causing the mighty horse to push harder. He was attempting to stay in formation; although Bors was finding it hard as Nasib powered onwards, thick veins bulging on well muscled legs.

The Errant Knight lowered his lance, the long polished wooden beam catching the light effortlessly as he did so. He saw his target. Not a particularly large Beastman, it was hunched and growling like a wounded dog. Horns sprouted from its canine like head and its beady orange eyes were glowing with malicious intent. The snout of the creature furrowed into a snarl and it raised a long curved blade at Bors, although it was far too late. 

It couldn’t stop the tip of the lance striking its sternum, crushing the bone into the wide chest cavity. The misplaced lungs withered and drained of air and a thick torrent of smelling blood splattered from its repeatedly opening and closing lips. A thrust punctured it through the spinal chord, sending chips of nerve clad bone outwards in a gory fountain. The Beastman immediately behind the first was killed as the momentum of the lance carried it through the monsters skull, caving it inwards between the eyes. 

Bors dropped the weapon as it became entangled in flesh and immediately drew his scimitar. It shorn brightly as it was yanked from the sheath at his side, and in succession he was hacking and slashing. One thrust split the meaty vein in the throat of a lithe creature, spraying warm arterial blood over Bors and Nasib as it clutched the wound with hooked fingers and twirled, collapsing in its death throes. 

Another screamed as the blade tore through the leather armour covering its shoulder and bit deep, down to the hilt. Organs were shredded as it tried to step back, simply cutting more innards to ragged pieces. It was the fifth which proved to be a problem. As Bors rode past it caught his ankle with gnarled fingers and yanked, almost pulling Bors from his mount as it did so. It tumbled however, falling onto its knees. And was dragged with Bors. 

The Beastman raised a hooked dagger with its free head as it twisted, the blade falling from its fingers and getting trampled beneath the hooves of the horses in formation behind Bors. The Knight twisted in his saddle, lifting his blade behind his head at a downward angle. With a grunt he brought it down, and the creature screamed. The arteries which laced its wrist were torn in a bloody dance, the tips lifting and unleashing tides of sanguine. 

A second strike struck its elbow, breaking away the forearm and sending it spinning backwards with a spurt of crimson. Bors spun back around; when Asmodeus shouted out a warning for Minotaurs. He had already picked his target, even as the words tore from the throat of the lance leader. A giant thing hefting a mighty war hammer, its head resembled a growling Oxen. Gold rings laced its lips, nostrils and brims of the ears and they shook as it roared loudly. 

Spittle flew forth as it swung the war hammer, crushing the skull of one of its fellows in bloodlust. Powerful cloven feet started to pump and it charged, screaming as it went. Bors readied the scimitar. The red flesh of the Minotaur was adorned with tattoos and piercings but Bors could see where he had to strike. The chest dipped in at the centre, more than likely a protective plate of bone covering its vital organs. 

Both met in a quick clash. The war hammer was raised above the creatures head in both hands, ready for a downward strike. The opening was perfect! Bors thrust his blade forwards, ripping through the bounded muscle of its chest with relative ease. Bone cracked into a long fissure that ripped the flesh covering it, but still the Minotaur screamed in defiance. Bors twisted and it fell from his blade, leaking blood from its facial orifices. He kicked it with his foot, and the beast tumbled into its back, spilling foul curled organs across the ground.

He could feel it in the air. Something immense, building up like a brewing volcano. It was going to explode. His fingers tightened around his reigns and he felt Nasib quiver as the metal prong in his mouth was pushed deeper. He would continue to kill. For that is what he had to do if he was to became what he wished.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

As a group: Each of you may respond to this as you will Asmodeus give your orders in the recruitment thread

You cut through the lines of the beastmen, lance and sword scything necks and splitting skulls, the Lord of Quenelles and his retinue hacking left and right ahead of you and now, the other lances, the more experienced knights begin to gather speed, crashing towards you though your progress is still strong and quick and the gors scattered backwards away from your lances.

Bestigors, heavy armoured with long axes held in clawed hands and gors scream as some of the cowards are cut down, the others form up in a writhing mass behind the line of axes. The mass seems to swell and there is a bellow as minotaurs lower their heads and charge directly towards you, the momentum of your horses carrying you directly into the path of three of them who bellow mad crys, lusting for battle.

You hear Asmodeus's cry as four minotaurs lumber for you and though the mass of beastman that seethed before you has thinned through death and cowardice there are still beastmen around you, sparse pockets of resistance.

The command comes to rear, using your horses hooves to crush the beastmen around you and regain momentum as you enter a slightly denser pocket and you each rear your horse his hooves cracking skulls.

At that moment, the Lord of Quenelles pushes through and he guides his retinue across your path towards the minotaurs his lance discarded, his sword glittering in his hand and he drives his horse aside the blade slashing at the hamstring of one minotaur and it roars as blood fountains. The lord swerves a blow from the second minotaur yet the third is quicker, its eyes more slanted and it steps across the horses path ducking the lords sword and exploding upwards its muscled forearm snapping the spine of the Lord's horse and sending the Lord of Quenelles flying.

The battlefield seems to stop, as the Lord tumbles head over heels, towards you, his horses dying shrieks seeming to pierce your ears followed by a long high scream from the Lady. Suddenly both elves are rushing forwards and the ladies sword beheads a beastmen as she rushes towards her fallen lover as the second grail knight in the Lord's retinue, his helm off, long hair flying. Lord Castellen Lyonell distaste written on his noble face beheads the offending beast with a sweep of his sword.

We now have a scene, your lance galloping towards the minotaurs the Lord's body in your way, your are forced to scatter to avoid him, asmodeus's orders whipped away by the triumphant roars of the beastman and the sudden howls of fear from the charging brettoni lances.

Each of you can now act independently and you have several options of what to do and I want you to react on your own charactors instinct not just follow the lance, think of it as you being scattered in all directions disorientated by grief fear and rage.

1) The lady of Quenelles has dived from her horse on her knees, she cradles the lord in her arms, Bors you see light around her hands and the hands of the damsel that rode with the lords, the streams of light attatching to the Lords body, does this mean he isnt dead? 4 of the grail knights lord protectors stand round him, swords out, facing the beastmen horde. You have been charged to guide her yet she appears well protected... also the welfare of your Lord

2) The elf is currently charging towards something, though she seems to be going in the direction of the minotaurs, a look of steely determination in her eyes. William in particular is she going to do something desperate does her death approach...

3 Lord Castellen and 2 other grail knights duck and avoid the minotaurs yet the line of heavily armoured bestigors rushes to aid the minotaurs boyed by the wound to your lord. Do you move to aid the grail knights as the will soon be over run, one minotuar may be hamstrung but its is still 3 upon 3, not good odds indeed.

Hell if you see another choice go for it


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## dark angel (Jun 11, 2008)

The Lord Quenelles was down. Bors reared Nasib up, beheading a Beastman as he did so and watched. He had pulled off, back towards the rear of the Lance when they had scattered and now watched. The Lady of Quenelles was also on her knees, cradling her injured lover in her hands and Bors felt a solemn at such a thing. Streamers of light were fluttering around her hands and his head, lifting upwards and falling, in a graceful dance. He could not have been dead….

Instinct kicked in and Bors struck Nasib with his spurs, charging forwards. He rounded the Grail Knights, blade held in one hand and the other around his reigns. Stopping behind the main group he licked his lips and pondered on what to do. The Lord Quenelles was his master, his beloved liege. And now he was injured and there was little Bors could do to stop it. He looked down on the Lady and the other lush maiden, shaking any perverse thoughts from his mind. 

‘My ladies, you must get him from here. He is not safe while the Horde still clamber, please I plead you to leave!’ roared Bors over the din of the Beastmen, who were chanting in victory. How dare they?!

He did not care if the Ladies would answer, he gave the Grail Knights apprehensive looks before turning Nasib towards the enemy forces. Some were throwing arms in the air, unleashing guttural roars from muscular throats. Others were tossing weapons towards the Brettonian forces, mainly in the form of hooked spears and sharp rocks which they had picked from the ground. The Grail Knights could protect the Lord Quenelles, they would not spare themselves to the fight until he was in a safe solace. 

‘Grail Knights! Can you not put yourselves to use? The Knights are disenchanted by the fall of our glorious leader, but he lives! Ride with me, into the enemy! If we can buy the time for the Ladies to take our liege from the field of battle he will live, but while you remain here you prove to be no help to the battle! Rally the forces, you are the only ones who can do so. There are others who can protect our master, you are instruments of war and not of care!’

He charged. Not knowing if any would follow, in bloodlust. With his blade held up above his head in one hand, his other clutching his reigns, both legs angled upwards so that they would kick any close enough away. Fear took a dark grasp of him as he closed on the red and brown skinned Beastmen. _Was this it?_ The first died in seconds, head cleaved in two. The second followed as its front was split like a bottle, splashing out gore. Yet Bors continued. Oh he hoped the Knights had heeded his call….


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

William was in shock, his lord, thier great and mighty liege had been laid low by these foul beasts. His blood stained the ground and he felt anger course through him at the horror of the act, the Grail Knights and the rest of his lance fought to keep the Lord from more harm as the Lady worked her magic on him in a desperate attempt to keep him alive. He wheeled Seig around and trambled a beast before blocking an axe with his shield and piercing his sword through its throat, it fell to the ground gurgling, its hand s grasping the bloody wound.

They needed to get their lord out of here now, his mind was shaken as a rock was thrown and hit his helm, he turned his head and regarded the beastmen who were now chanting at this new turn of events. Disgusting foul creatures all of them, none deserved the breath of life, he heard the rushing of hooves and saw Bors take off at a charging pace at the enemy.

At the same time the elven witch also charged, yet she seemed to have a purpose, a goal that her eyes were set on while Bors charged out of the anger that now flowed through all of them. William had to make a decision as did the rest of the lance, his mind swam with so many different decisions until he finally chose, the clarity with which it came to him giving him strength. He spurred Seig forward and charged after the elven witch, if she saw something and was going after it then he would follow, at the moment he trusted that she knew best what to do here.

Yet he would not allow her to die, even if she was ok with her impending doom, he had made an oath and he would not break it. A new warcry on his lips he dearly wished that he had one of the horns that the men in his family were given after their first real battle, one that could rally any warrior that heard its call, but for now his own voice would have to do. He charged through some beasts that got in his way in his attempt to get to the elf and protect her, one jumped behind her and stabbed his sword through its back, it fell to the ground spasming.

He saw an axe blow at the last second and raised his shield, the hit causing Seig to take a few steps, but William roared in defiance and brought his blade down on the creature's neck, blood shooting out of its ruptured vein.


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

I have decided to clse cleansing, it has been too much of a struggle, the posting too slow, the quality impeccable but at this rate I'd be incontinent before we finished the rp.
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Your ends as far as i knew them, to the first crypt of mousillon, i had a faint idea of your fates. Reading the whole thing will probably give you more of an idea of the whole picture

WIlliam Tolle: You did indeed follow the elf yet you could not save her from the wrath of a doombull. She did cast down her foes, the shamans that assailed and burned at the magical forests of athel loren and thus the eleves and forest spirits came forth, saved from the chaotic flames by there kin. Yet as she raised her arms triumphant the doombull came upon her with a fury beyond all. They fought a duel of duels, blade and staff meeting claw and fang as you struggled to join her clambering over the bodies of foe and friend alike, you were tackled to the ground by a Lord of the elves. He held you down his grip firm, his eyes fervent despite your pleading struggles until the elfs body crumpled.

Slowly he leapt you up and leapt upon him furious at your failed oath yet he explained to you deflecting your blows easily with an agile grace of years of combat. That the elf in question was afflicted, afflicted with a disease that would rack her body and mind, kill her slowly and painfully, for she had been cursed by the ancient branchwraith, Drycha to die in battle or die in agony. So indeed she had sought out her death at the hands of the beastlord. Now together you leapt towards the doombull who roared and stamped, before he was brought down by the deadly arrow of a waywatcher of athel loren, shot straight through his eye. 

Indeed you went to mousillon and there guided by your father you went into the crypts of mousillon alongside the lance he lead. There your father was cast down by the sorcery of a vile necromancer, though you strained to reap vengeance the necromancer cast down the roof of his cave, trapping Bors with him. Diving forth to reach Bors and your fathers body you were struck by a rock, knocking you out cold. You awoke later your fathers sword in your hand. You took it and in your grief you strode deeper into the catacomb desperate to avenge him. You were not seen again

Bors Guy Asmodeus: Bor's pleas to the ladies and the grail knights fell upon deaf ears and his wild charge was only supported as he turned to find Guy and Denelias coming with you, swinging in upon your tail, you forged through the beastmen lines, Guy pushing to the fore you were like an arrow through the beastmen lines, slaying foe after foe, until you like many others came upon the beastlord. Twas there you rejoined with Asmodeus who having joined his hero in battle against the minotaurs, slew alongside the grail knights lead by his hero, Castellen Lyonell. Together you did form the lance, Castellan at the head, Asmodeus to his left, Guy to his right and you cut through the beastman and his entourage the noble Grail knight smiting the Beastlord down yet it was Guy who gained the acclaim for his manouvere, cutting down a beastman he reared his horse, its iron-shod hooves smiting the Beastlord two mighty blows upon his chest before its belly was rendered by a long talon, causing it to crumple. However its last act in life was mighty indeed and it caused the beast lord to stagger, allowing Castellan to strike its head from its shoulders.

The beastlord headless the horde scattered yet Asmodeus you were forced to watch in dissapointment as your hero acclaimed your rival over you. Thus Guy lead the lance to mousillon, upon his new horse, a mighty warhorse that once bore a grail knight that fell in battle. The horse though a mighty charger, it seemed wary of Guy and their training was difficult, the horse seeming unruly and untrusting, in particular during the tournament, which occured on the way to mousillon when it upon the first run refused to charge. As a lance you did well coming third overall, though only by 3 points from 1st place. This in particular was hard on guy, who had his new horse obeyed his orders during the first run, could have pulled them into the lead by progressing further in the jousting.

As a lance you entered the crypts pushing through zombies until you found the vile necromancer that summoned these tortured corpses. Having slain many of your number with foul sorcery his eyes fell upon Bors who felt the winds of magic pouring around him, light amongst the dark that surrounded the necromancer. Reaching out you cast a ball of light in his direction which caused him to shrink back shielding his eyes, Bors followed him eagerly and it seemed to you that the zombies moved to aloow him to ghost through after the necromancer who in turn collapsed the cave upon him forcing you to dive aside. You came up, Guy and Amodeus on one side, Bors and William on the other. Bors, the necromancer lead you deep into the caves before turning to face you within his lare, the lights black he offered you power beyond your wildest dreams to serve him as his protegee. Whether you accepted or tried to slay him ,was your choice.

Guy and Asmodeus, trapped with the remenants of your lance and William's fathers lance you chose to turn back, the rock unshiftable, your cries for Bors and WIlliam unanswered. You returned to the lord of Quenelles reporting your misfortune...

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That was all I had.... I'm sorry we never go to do it but I may well return to the Bretts at a later date. Thank you for those that continued to post, some fantastic posts over the course.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

i would disappear looking for vengeance lol


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## deathbringer (Feb 19, 2009)

No what would have happened is you would have followed bors down the tunnel after the necromancer, unwittingly. You would have found him the dead necromancer at his feet his body shattered. You would have had to have saved him pretty much. Though there would have been two tunnels one filled with zombies another with a speck of light at the end, a small choice, do you hunt vengeance or save bors.


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## BlackApostleVilhelm (May 14, 2008)

uh save bors? :grin: and then hunt zombies


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