Homebrew tabletop game system thread the II

[Kaelan]

ECR
A slight missunderstanding of the situation, I thought Alfred was fighting 2 crossbow men away from the main fighting group - slightly different odds now!

Anyway, I'm here now, so I will grab Alfred and escort him with speed out of the fight before he bleeds out. I'll looking into his injury to see how bad it is when we are in cover and see what I can do.

"I thought knights were suppose to charge in and rescue the damsel, and not suicide charge a shield wall. If it makes you feel better, the witch is also the local healer."

[Panzersharkcat]

(OOC: Same here, actually. That's why I had Alfred go in to punch the other crossbowman. I thought they were separated from the main group and he had the remaining archer in melee range anyway. I was a little confused but just went along making up an ad hoc explanation for his behavior.)

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

S.L.Acker- that's the right line to take, and it works right up to the point where Bryan calls it a story. After that they look a bit funnily at you, and she says
'Good luck not getting involved in politics- and if you want somebody to hit, wait a second.'


Simon, Larric has a mana pool of 32, had burnt off 6 so far- about as much as he could expect to regain in the course of a quiet day. Relatively large mana pools regenerating relatively slowly.


Afred's actually been shot just below the collarbone, it's the ribs the shoulder joint's anchored to that are gone; bolt shattered one but glanced, took out another and cracked the collarbone on the way out. Hurts and is awkward, but he's in no danger of his life unless the wound goes septic- there doesn't seem to have been any toxic alchemy on the bolt.

The young witch-with astonishing self- control after having been rescued from certain and horrible death (on a good human perception, Bryan notices she is badly shaken and actually not far off going to a darkened room and wibbling for a while, but she's maintaining poise very well)- turns to the yeomanry and says 'Let the northerners go,' points at the southerners- 'I want that knight alive.'

[Simon_Jester]

The young witch-with astonishing self- control after having been rescued from certain and horrible death (on a good human perception, Bryan notices she is badly shaken and actually not far off going to a darkened room and wibbling for a while, but she's maintaining poise very well)- turns to the yeomanry and says 'Let the northerners go,' points at the southerners- 'I want that knight alive.'

"Pardon me, ma'am, but if your archers can keep that one-" he gestures at the last remaining Colfax crossbowman- from putting a bolt into me, I think I might be able to slow your man down a good deal- gods willing."

Assuming he gets some kind of acknowledgement and agreement with the scheme, Larric mutters, more or less under his breath, "I always wanted to try this."

He tries to find a place to stand reasonably close to the knot of southerners, hopefully with some cover (or the distraction of the attacking yeomen), so that the remaining crossbowman is unlikely to spot what he's doing. Because he fully expects to take some time at this- not a minutes-long set piece spell, but enough seconds that even men who are obviously hard-pressed might look up from the fight at hand and notice what he's up to.


On the occasional good day, Larric's perceptions have probed deeply enough into bits of metal to take up leave him with the firm belief that what looks like solidity as a vast phalanx of tiny, whirling sparks. There is a lot he doesn't understand or can't see going on in there- a great deal to learn, beneath or beyond what he can perceive, but that's a place to start, and one that ties into the all-pervading fields of influence with which he is most familiar.

Aligned and synchronized, those swirls of sparks project a zone of... there is no one proper word that Larric knows; he just thinks of it as twist. In practice such alignment is seldom found naturally, with the metal being unaligned, seething with chaos and (metaphorically) schism. But that can be changed, in a suitably susceptible material, and iron is one such.

Sir Shiny of Colfax is wearing a magnificent suit of plate- which means he's wearing greaves. Larric focuses on those particular bits of his armor, and thinks twist into them, coaxing the 'sparks' inside to spin as one, to exert a unified pull that can be noticed over real distances. Specifically, the distance between a man's legs in fighting stance.


He's done magnetized metal before, and the desired end state of this is that the knight winds up with a pair of magnetized greaves, locking together and making combat impossible- even if he manages to not fall over, he won't be able to do even the bare minimum of footwork to defend himself, and one good push would send him to the ground.

In practice, it is common knowledge that 'persons of quality' are hard targets for spells. Larric expects to be resisted, perhaps by the structure of the plate itself if some other, more professional and reasonably savvy, wizard got to the metal first. He's hoping that he can drill past that protection by using an unexpected attack (the stereotypical war wizard would likely throw fire or thunderbolts, not settle for tripping you up), and by pressing that attack more diligently and over a longer period of time.

It may not work, which is why he didn't promise glowing success.

[Tasoth]

'As you wish, Madame.' Fallard would make sure the witch was free to go on her own as soon as she ask and would attempt to be a gentleman about putting her down.

'I know I really shouldn't be asking favors right now, but you could you kind of help with making them stop shooting at me?'

((I assume she has already done so.))

[Kaelan]

William calls out to the southern group.
"Sir knight, the battle is lost. You are out magicked, out shot, and outnumbered in close quarter fighting. You will be taken, the question remains how many of your loyal men will you sacrifice to prolong the inevitable?"

[Kaelan]

Sir Shiny of Colfax is wearing a magnificent suit of plate

I do recall dibs being called with a certain mage in the room at the time.....

[Simon_Jester]

Read carefully, Kaelan.


Larric doesn't feel strictly obliged to honor 'dibs' but has no particular interest in the armor itself. He's just taking out his displeasure with the whole scene on the most offensive target handy.

Although if the magic works, getting that knight's legs unstuck is going to be an interesting exercise.


In his guts, Larric sympathizes with the townsfolk and the yeomen, subject only to his anger at the yeomen's approach to collateral damage. He is very much not of or affiliated with the nobility, and if he personally has ever been prosperous, it was almost entirely through pulling himself up by his bootstraps.

[Kaelan]

Given the right amount of time, and appropriate city I do believe William could find a use or buyer for magnetised greaves. Jousting tournaments springs to mind at the moment. Do you think Sir Alfred will be any good on horseback?

[Simon_Jester]

As they are now, they'd be too awkward and unsafe for use under all but the strangest of circumstances. Remember, the point of the exercise is to turn those greaves into, for all practical purposes, a pair of leg irons.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'You'll be fine, they're mostly not bloodthirsty lunatics.' she says to Fallard; and in fact they are deferring to her, and also wondering why on earth she wants the southern knight alive.
'I wouldn't personally mind giving him a taste of his own medicine,' she says meaning the knight and glancing at the stake, 'but for the lord who sent him it would be just as good an excuse.'

The longbowmen stop the last crossbowman in very direct fashion; two arrows, one through the shoulder and one through the chest.

The southern knight decides that the only way they're going to survive this, or at least die honourably, is by going forward- charging and hacking their way out. He gives the order, they start off, and what a moment for the winds of magic to blow. He gets two steps before his feet lock together and he tumbles to the ground. That just flowed right into place. He'll try to wriggle free, of course.

One of the two remaining men at arms looks around, looks at William, drops his weapons and says 'I yield'-

what are the rest of you doing?

[Simon_Jester]

Larric dusts his hands off, beaming at all around.

"It works! I've wanted to try that for ages. Though from the looks of it, I don't think he wants to stay gift-wrapped..."

[Kaelan]

I'll instruct the yielding man to lay down (if anything to reduce the chances of 'stray' arrows hitting him), whilst securing his weapons. I'm quite sure Sir Alfred will deal with his fellow knight. If things get out of hand william will lend a hand in the knight's subdual.

[Panzersharkcat]

Alfred does nothing but continue to tend to his wounds. He'd have accepted the surrender, though, even if he wasn't injured.

[S.L.Acker]

When the group gives him a look like he's said something odd Bryan can just shrug and say, "I guess I've stayed among the upper class too long. The rich do so like to talk around things when the point is within easy reach."

Then the young, clearly shaken, witch wishes him luck in staying out of politics and with the slightest hint of a smile he responds, "Your situation seemed worth getting involved in. I could have sat back and let this play out, but then I'm no better than the nobility tottering around a battlefield like lost children. At any rate, you have yourself a bodyguard until this is resolved."

Though currently the battle is winding down Bryan stays near to the woman letting others do the capturing of the Southerner in his shining armor. Once he's brought in he might be able to coax something past the mans lips that others might miss, but he's not the type to mount a charge to go capturing somebody. Leave that to those that seek glory by trials.

[Kaelan]

If nobody approaches the knight I'll quickly put the boot in before he can free himself to cause more problems, otherwise I will be keeping a watch on my new surrendered charge.

[S.L.Acker]

Ignore my previous post, I missed that ECR had posted twice.

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When the group gives him a look like he's said something odd Bryan can just shrug and say, "I guess I've stayed among the upper class too long. The rich do so like to talk around things when the point is within easy reach."

Then the young, clearly shaken, witch wishes him luck in staying out of politics and with the slightest hint of a smile he responds, "Your situation seemed worth getting involved in. I could have sat back and let this play out, but then I'm no better than the nobility tottering around a battlefield like lost children. At any rate, you have yourself a bodyguard until this is resolved."

Though currently the battle is winding down Bryan stays near to the woman letting others do the capturing of the Southerner in his shining armor. Once he's brought in he might be able to coax something past the mans lips that others might miss, but he's not the type to mount a charge to go capturing somebody. Leave that to those that seek glory by trials.

In less time, and with less fuss, than he expected the Southern knight yields after falling over in a most undignified fashion. Taking this as his moment to shine he looks to the woman next to him and says, "I expect that now might be a good time to get him bound and under guard. Then we can get you sat down and get some food and drink into you. You hide it well, but I know this hasn't been any sort of any easy day for you. I have a room in the inn that is yours as long as we need to stay here."

[Tasoth]

Whoo! Fallard steps away with a polite nod to the young lady and a smile on his face. He takes a look around and begins trying to concoct how to make a profit from this situation without getting an arrow in his chest.

[Feralgnoll]

@ECR, sorry for being out a few days, I had to tend to my sick kids. Whenever's alright I would like to wander in.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

You're anticipating, he hasn't been taken yet...oops, my mistake. He's jumped on by William and two of the yeomen, and has the axe levered out of his hand, and is quickly kneecapped and stunned by hammers. They do stick the boot in a bit, and are clearly contemplating daggers and armpits, but hold off for now.

The rest of them are jumped by the group comign back from hustling the northerners away. Anyone who wants to get involved, tell me.

'The tower will do- any of the wounded that aren't too badly hurt to be moved, take them there.' I'm going to presume you're all together for her explanation. Feralgnoll, now is good.

'Do you all know what a chevauchee is? They're long out of fashion now, or supposed to be, but it's basically the equal of raping a woman into accepting a forced marriage- just with terrain features.

A lord sends his men to terrorise another lord's people, to prove to them- and to him- that he cannot defend them, and should and must give them up, hand them over, to the one who can- who abused them in the first place. It is a relic of the bad old days, and was never formally forbidden by law, only custom; mostly because it was unthinkable that such things should still be.

Baron Kardren is missing, presumed a lily-livered coward and no surprise that a blustering bully should turn out so, but it seems the spawn he left behind him are of a similar stamp. They assume that we would rise in revolt against our own lords, demanding protection, weakening both and making their own expansion more likely; but I think there are enough of us who can tell north from south.

The one thing I am certain of is that, if we are forced to rise to protect ourselves, in what would be in all essence a peasants' revolt, there would be a great many dead peasants as a result- although considering how everything else stands, we might never be closer to actual victory; the price would be high, but it might happen- and then what?

I have something to ask of you, if you would; take him-' the southern knight- 'north, take him to Detrick for interrogation and trial. Would you be willing?'

[Panzersharkcat]

"Considering that the alternative is going home and telling my father I got shot because of my anger, yes."

[S.L.Acker]

"I see no reason why I couldn't help escort this barbaric fool North to face the justice he deserves. Though I worry at the chance to somebody trying to retaliate for what has taken place today. Do you have a safe place to stay if they do send more men after you?" asks Bryan, thinking that he wouldn't be much of a guard if she was harmed while he was escorting this prisoner.

[Simon_Jester]

OUT OF CHARACTER:

Having read the story in User Fiction, by process of elimination, Lautern is verderer to Baron deVerrett, and Qulan, the territory we are passing through, is his land?


IN CHARACTER:

Larric is not stupid, and talk of chevaucheés sets his mind ticking- the marauding horde of orcs and destructive sorcery that hit Auvaigne like a thunderbolt these past few months, what was it if not a chevaucheé? That feels... right isn't the word, but correct is. But he's rather afraid of deducing much more than he already knows about the whos and the whys of it, and doesn't choose to speak of the matter.

Larric tunes back into the explanation in time to get the gist, and to make reply. The corner of his mouth quirks upward.

"For some reason, seeing that man in trouble would make my week. I have a business to be starting up again in another town, but... honestly, Magnus* probably won't be disappointed to hear that I'll be delayed. I ought to send him a letter before I leave here, though."

He makes a mental note to do that, then looks over the trapped and stunned knight- who has, unless someone's been playing fast and loose with the laws of ontological inertia, still got his legs stuck together to add insult to all the injury the yeomen have been piling on.

Larric glances at the crossbowman who helped subdue him. "I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name. Have you had trouble getting our man out his greaves? Come to think of it, that could be a bit tricky if you can't just unlace the pair of them... I have a few ideas."


OUT OF CHARACTER:

*Another alchemist who, with a bit of moral arm-twisting by mail, Larric was able to talk into helping him get on his feet...

[Tasoth]

'Hmm? Why of course, my lady. I was heading for there anyways. Have some business proposals to listen to.' Which is, because I can't think of anything else to get him to go along, true.

((I have decided I want a dog...))

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Yes, Detrick Lautern (Sir Detrick, technically) is deVerett's verderer and this is the southern fringes of Qulan- from general knowledge, though, the actual town of Qulan the barony is organised around sits virtually in the shadow of four hundred square miles of forest on the foothills of the spinal mountain range, and a fair few nasty and unpredictable relics scattered through that range; most of the barony's chronic problems are in the north, and they tend to look to the north, they're not as strong down here as perhaps they ought to be.

As for the searing of Kuquan (the country) being basically a grand scale chevauchee'- consider who might be able to give a straight answer to that question, and how likely they are to give it. The technique may have been close, but the organisation of the forces and of the people behind it and the politics of who stands to gain- it's not that simple.


To Bryan she says 'Being in one place is how they found me; I don't think 'safe' and 'staying' are likely to go together. With the help of the men of the greenwood, I stand a better chance of outwitting their trackers than I do of standing an assault. This is probably as good a place as any to keep in touch through, though.'

She sets to trying to heal Alfred's ribs, 'Drop your defences, I'll make this as gentle as I can- unless you have some objection to magical healing?'

Oh, and to all, 'Good, thank you all; the reason I want you to do it rather than the barony's own man- I know Sir Bors, and as much as I appreciate his attempts to rescue me, he would have reported that he had fought the false knight, defeated him and all was well. It isn't. And I wish you were entitled to call me "my lady", it's just Catarin.'