The Lady Igraine is dead and Uther Pendragon sits alone in Camelot. In his youth, he earned his title through skill, bravery, and an unmatched fierceness in battle. But it has been a long time since he was young. A long time since he could wake in the morning without pain already weighing down his old bones until they feel heavier than lead. A long time for the matter of death to weigh on his mind.
In that time, the rumors have passed that he took his throne not merely through force of arms but through betrayal. The rumors have passed that Merlin aided him through Fae magic and cunning. The rumors have even passed that he conceived an illegitimate child, born when his wife Igraine was yet sworn to another, his greatest foe.
Now he is old, alone and pained. Yet he does not wish to die. The land too is old, and pained, and because its king clings to the world as he is, so too the land clings to its frailty and will not change or grow. Times that were bountiful under the protection of Uther’s reign are now worried times, where families wonder at the touch of the first frost whether they will live to hear the crackling ice that signals the spring thaw.
The druids and the priests who are about in the villages do what they can, where they can, and things are better where people remain loyal and true. But so long as there is rot at the heart of Camelot, there is no hope of change.
These words have been passed among the knights outside of Camelot of the goings on in the high kingdom of Britain and most especially Uther's domain of Logres.
It’s said that not so long ago a gallant young knight, who is called the Lily Knight, left her local manor near the forest Sauvage and took her squire, her horse, and her lance and set out for Camelot. There was to be a tournament there, for Uther Pendragon still holds tournaments and offers rewards for those who show skill enough for his court.
Yet, the knight said that she was waylaid on the road. Not by bandits, who would not dare such an assault on her staunch mail and the shining argent lily on gules that adorned her shield and proclaimed that she knew no fear. No, she was waylaid by druids in service to Uther who claimed that the tournament was canceled and the king was in need of valiant knights to search on his behalf for relics.
What they did not say was their purpose nor their need, merely that they served the king. They evaded her keen eyes and bowed and scraped in the road. They dissembled in their words and sought refuge in their roles and their quests. Surely a request from the servants of the king was not one to be questioned?
The Lily knight was troubled enough at their cold demeanor and evasive words that she departed and returned home to check on the safety of her villages. She found them whole and safe, for the most part. However, in her brief absence, strange beasts not natural to the wood troubled her people. Their fields had been ripped askew, their sheep slaughtered and the blood drunk dry. It was no small matter to track the beasts and drive them off, and she found the bodies unnatural as though animated by some dark spirit. She was yet more troubled at this, fearful that old things had been disturbed and the land angered.
Her people safe again, she now travels amongst the towns spreading word of the kings’ agents and encouraging the knights errant to see to the safety of their people before running off on reckless errands. Or worse.
“Did you hear, starlings? I’ve heard that...”
# King Pellie’s riding up and down the hills with her nets, chasing a creature like a swan-necked leopard and a bark like a hundred hounds! She’s half-mad after losing her wife, and even drew on the Lily Knight when she offered to help catch the beast! Does she think herself Gwyn the Huntress with her white-and-red dogs?
# The White Horse of the Downs has been wandering at nights, vast and strange against the stars, before lying itself back down on different hills come dawn. And the Giant of the Chalk spoke at Midsummer! It declared something about a beastly maid holding the fate of Britain in her hands...
# Speaking of summer, Estragales had one of the worst I’ve ever seen. The heather’s brown and brittle, the corn’s mouldering when it grows at all, and when it wasn’t dry as bone it was because black squalls were roaring in from sea. The worst part is that this is the third bad year in those parts, and some villages are turning to banditry just to get by. No, I take it back— the worst part is that all of Britain is following along. When was the last time you saw rain? Thought so.
# If you ride the Fens of Cornwall, cover your heraldry. Hereward the Wake has a special hatred for knights, and last I heard, that wily outlaw is holding Lady Lamorak and her arms to ransom! Whoever they really are, they wear a wolf pelt, and all the beasts of the field and birds of the air are on their side.
# The Thrush Knight, Lady Madelyn, is hurt bad. I visited her at the monastery in Bath, but she was incoherent in her fever, talking about rivers and dragons and doom. Just because the women of the rivers are making themselves scarce doesn’t mean there’s a troubling reason for it— they’re just following one of their odd laws, I’m sure. And how would a dragon catch river-spirits, anyhow?
# Be careful riding by Forest Sauvage — there’s a knight in black who roams there, challenging knights to jousts for service. I met Lady Abigail who told me all about her year and a day in bondage as a maid at the knight’s grim castle, deep within the woods— and how she worked alongside goblins and a Roman princess!
I’ve ridden the length and breadth of the kingdom. When I was young and my hair the tawny color of fresh wheat, I fought with King Uther in his vanguard. Let me tell you, the land has seen a lot of good from his peace, however he got it. If you ask me, we have Merlin to thank for much of that, a shame he’s missing now, so I’ve heard.
Times may be hard, but people haven’t forgotten that they were once harder. The difference between having a fire and a roof and being out in the cold is a real one, these old bones know it.
But I’ll tell you this, if I tell you anything. A roof without bread is a frail shelter indeed.
Think on that when you travel. Remember your humility and your knightly oaths. Remember that generosity, not force of arms will be your greatest strength. If you take your due and depart, you’ll be no better than bandits, and you’ll have nary a soul come to join your banner when Uther comes to find you.
He will at that, mark my words. Don’t think you can ride about sowing dissent with your theories that it’s his fault the wheat’s shriveled and the mead’s bitter. Best then, to show some nobility on your parts. Show the people that there’s a better choice for them than old King Uther and prove to them before you need them that they can rely on you to honor your oaths.
The holy city of Jerusalem is governed by many rituals and many laws. The pious pilgrim might find divine revelation in accordance with these rituals. The impious pilgrim, however, may find just the opposite...
Selzi Ikaros, the glorious Dragon Knight of Antioch, had been sent on pilgrimage by her devout mother in despair at her daughter's behaviour. Sent in the company of a retinue of priests, monks, and with the assistance of the most sober-minded of her companions Felii Instansi, this journey was sure to bring some measure of divine calm to the hot-headed warrior. But the mother underestimated. Selzi had the aspect of the boar to her - she desired to feast, to fight, and to revel. She was a mighty warrior with muscles like steel cables cables and without parallel in the jousting lists and she had no respect for these soft religious creatures that surrounded her like sheep.
As soon as she reached the holy city she prevailed over Felii and spirited her away from the procession. They instead went through the bars and back streets of the city like a whirlwind, Selzi corrupting the naive Felii with drink and vice, engaging in brawls and robberies and behaviour entirely unbecoming of two young knights. After many nights of hard drinking the two of them walked from the city, laughing and carrying each other. Selzi walked ahead, and then turned to face Felii to show off the goblet she had stolen from a church. Walking backwards, she stepped into the centre of a crossroads.
Walking backwards, away from Jerusalem, into a crossroads - this is one of the many ritual taboos that a more attentive soul would know to avoid.
It isn't clear who the woman they met there was - a djinn, perhaps, or a wizard, or even the devil herself. But she sat atop the lamp post and smiled at the drunk and tarnished knights and offered them wishes three. She had not even had time to raise the topic of the price before Sir Selzi interrupted her with the same thoughtless arrogance that governed her whole life.
"I wish," said Ser Selzi, as confidently as the horns of war, "for the strength of a hundred knights. I wish for the glory of a hundred kings. I wish for the wealth of a hundred lords."
And so she of the crossroads smiled and shrugged. She hang down from the burning lamp-post by her feet like a bat and plucked the icon of the dragon from Selzi's shield, and with a symphony of fire, the knight and the dragon were one. Roaring in fury and horror, the wyrm clawed at itself, causing scales to fall as rain before flying away into the night.
"And for your wish, little dove?" asked she of the crossroads with a smile like ice.
"Turn her back!" blurted Ser Felii, aghast at the terrible curse that had befallen her friend. "Release Selzi at once, I command you!"
"Ah," said she of the crossroads. "That will carry a heavy price indeed. She had three wishes, so you must do three tasks for me to undo them."
"Name them," said Ser Felii.
"Firstly, you must cleanse yourself in a cathedral not of Rome," said she of the crossroads. "Then you must hear a king weep and beg for mercy. Finally, you must walk through Ser Selzi's own fire without being burned. When these terms are met then I will return Ser Selzi Ikaros to human shape."
But, said she of the crossroads in her malicious mind, even then Ser Selzi will not be free of the price of her own wish.
It is said that there is an enchantress who keeps a place of power within a deep lake in the woods. Her name is Nimue, though it is not known how her name came to be whispered among the people. It is said that she possesses the true sword of the king. It is said that even if she will not grant her sword, she can be persuaded to grant her blessing, the sacred purity of the lake that is evil's bane. But she has not been seen by any knight still living. Those with wisdom say that her time has not yet come, and may never come if Uther Pendragon achieves the immortality that he seeks.
Below is a map of Britain at the start of Uther's reign. In this campaign, he is already old and his success has united most of these lands, but their unity is a loose federation of oaths and vassalage, and most people alive remember a time in their lifetime of greater independence.
The holy city of Jerusalem is governed by many rituals and many laws. The pious pilgrim might find divine revelation in accordance with these rituals. The impious pilgrim, however, may find just the opposite...
Selzi Ikaros, the glorious Dragon Knight of Antioch, had been sent on pilgrimage by her devout mother in despair at her daughter's behaviour. Sent in the company of a retinue of priests, monks, and with the assistance of the most sober-minded of her companions Felii Instansi, this journey was sure to bring some measure of divine calm to the hot-headed warrior. But the mother underestimated. Selzi had the aspect of the boar to her - she desired to feast, to fight, and to revel. She was a mighty warrior with muscles like steel cables cables and without parallel in the jousting lists and she had no respect for these soft religious creatures that surrounded her like sheep.
As soon as she reached the holy city she prevailed over Felii and spirited her away from the procession. They instead went through the bars and back streets of the city like a whirlwind, Selzi corrupting the naive Felii with drink and vice, engaging in brawls and robberies and behaviour entirely unbecoming of two young knights. After many nights of hard drinking the two of them walked from the city, laughing and carrying each other. Selzi walked ahead, and then turned to face Felii to show off the goblet she had stolen from a church. Walking backwards, she stepped into the centre of a crossroads.
Walking backwards, away from Jerusalem, into a crossroads - this is one of the many ritual taboos that a more attentive soul would know to avoid.
It isn't clear who the woman they met there was - a djinn, perhaps, or a wizard, or even the devil herself. But she sat atop the lamp post and smiled at the drunk and tarnished knights and offered them wishes three. She had not even had time to raise the topic of the price before Sir Selzi interrupted her with the same thoughtless arrogance that governed her whole life.
"I wish," said Ser Selzi, as confidently as the horns of war, "for the strength of a hundred knights. I wish for the glory of a hundred kings. I wish for the wealth of a hundred lords."
And so she of the crossroads smiled and shrugged. She hang down from the burning lamp-post by her feet like a bat and plucked the icon of the dragon from Selzi's shield, and with a symphony of fire, the knight and the dragon were one. Roaring in fury and horror, the wyrm clawed at itself, causing scales to fall as rain before flying away into the night.
"And for your wish, little dove?" asked she of the crossroads with a smile like ice.
"Turn her back!" blurted Ser Felii, aghast at the terrible curse that had befallen her friend. "Release Selzi at once, I command you!"
"Ah," said she of the crossroads. "That will carry a heavy price indeed. She had three wishes, so you must do three tasks for me to undo them."
"Name them," said Ser Felii.
"Firstly, you must cleanse yourself in a cathedral not of Rome," said she of the crossroads. "Then you must hear a king weep and beg for mercy. Finally, you must walk through Ser Selzi's own fire without being burned. When these terms are met then I will return Ser Selzi Ikaros to human shape."
But, said she of the crossroads in her malicious mind, even then Ser Selzi will not be free of the price of her own wish.
In the Kingdom of Britain, ruled by High King Uther Pendragon, King of Logres, the following things are true, insofar as anything in the world can be said to be true.
Magic is real, but it is not strong. Magic is harmony. It arises from a connection to the land or the feelings of the heart. It is intensely personal, in emotion and in scope. It can move a single warrior, perhaps a handful. It can offer a small place of stability, perhaps heal a wound. It cannot heal the land nor reverse a blight. It cannot stop armies nor change the minds of kings.
The Fae are real and they have not yet hidden themselves from the world. They live among humans and at times on their own. They are small in number and do not gather in large settlements of their own. At most, a Fae lord may keep her own household and a handful of retainers. To be Fae is to have a connection to the land and to magic, but the forms it takes are myriad.
Armies are not large, and not even so large as when Uther was in his prime. The whole of Uther's forces, if gathered to his banner, would number perhaps 5,000 foot and 1,000 knights. If he called them today, they would not all come. Despite that, his is by far the greatest concentration of power present and the kingdom lives under his peace, such as it is.
Villages and Keeps are the center of life for nearly everyone. There are a handful of towns and even fewer places that could properly be called a city. Camelot has been built into a seat of power, but it is better to think in terms of kingdoms and duchies. Uther is High King of Britain, and rules Logres. King Lot rules in Lothian. If one cares as to the state of other kings and dukes, they may exist or perhaps most of the leaders are not found in the traditional histories.
Religion exists and is important in daily life, but there is not a dominant practice as between Christian and Druidic traditions. Both have rituals that are effective for the use of magic. Both focus primarily on tending to the people and the land under their care, at least insofar as they live up to their ideals.
Nobles and Kings are judged by their loyalty for the people under their care, their prowess in warfare, and their learning and culture, though the last is in some decline. Anyone can hold roles of leadership, regardless of gender, and indeed this version of Uther's kingdom has notably more women in knightly roles than men.
Somewhere in the isles, there is a kingdom so small, no cartographer has ever recorded it on their maps. No outside ruler has ever spared this place a single thought, much less a drop of blood trying to invade it, and no explorer has ever set out to find it.
This is not to say its people never receive visitors. It happens that travelers, purely by chance, find their way across its borders. Most of them leave again, by one way or another, having never realized they entered another kingdom at all.
Despite its size relative to other places, it is very easy to get lost within its borders, for it seems to be folded up upon itself and twisted around more times than a nest of origami snakes in a whirlwind. Its hills and fields and forests roll and twist and bend until wanderers don't quite know which way is which or whether their own heads are up or down. Paths and burrows riddle the landscape, leading every which way but never seeming to lead anywhere.
Its people, who are themselves quite small, find much humor and enjoyment in such bewilderment. They spend their days playing games on each other, or the rare unwary traveler, trying to lead others astray without being led astray in turn. All for good fun and merriment, of course.
In this kingdom lived a girl, whose name was Nin. Nin was smaller than most of her kind and quite good at playing the game. Not because she was a passionate player who dedicated herself to daily practice and study, but because she—quite uncommonly for her kind—hated getting tricked, turned around, led astray, or spun around in circles. When others had a good laugh together over the day's foibles, Nin would grump and sulk and stare daggers at everyone.
After one too many embarrassing experiences of being fooled as a child, she dedicated herself to not play the game and instead spent all her energy on outwitting everyone else, to learn and predict their intentions and plans, the better to avoid them. Which, quite inadvertently, made her really good at making them all twist themselves into knots. Though everyone teased her for being a grumpy grump, they also came to respect her for her skill at the game.
But Nin hated it. And when she had the time, which was rare because she constantly had to look over her shoulder or anticipate the next trick, she dreamed of a different life. A life of straight roads, long roads leading somewhere. Of flat lands extending as far as the eye could see and farther still. Of people who said what they meant and kept their word.
That last part would prove elusive, but she did think she knew of a place of long, straight roads and vast, flat fields. As a good and attentive listener, she'd heard of it from travelers, rare though they were.
One day, having finally had enough, and in a fit of extreme grumpiness, she tossed everything she owned into her wagon and set off, never to return. She'd find roads so straight, she could ride in her wagon for days on end without a single turn.
She'd find fields so vast, she couldn't see the end of them.
And maybe, just maybe, she would find a single person in the whole world who said what they meant and kept their word.
*
Hola amigos! So, it's been a while, but I thought it was probably time to get back into the PbP game.
I wasn't too sold on Fellowship the first time I tried it, but perhaps I'll enjoy it as a player. Perhaps the 2nd edition has some improvements too, and maybe you guys have more experience now, which also helps.
Right now I only have the old 1e book, though I'll see about getting the others, and I don't really remember a thing about the mechanics or details of Fellowship.
But I kinda wanted to play a halfling of some style, and then this morning inspiration struck, and I wrote the above. I think I like it, so maybe I don't need any of the fancy new playbooks after all.
Also, I'm a noob when it comes to Arthurian legends. Unless it's something everyone probably knows from popular culture, I probably don't know it. Though I'm happy to learn, and I plan on maybe reading up a bit :)
Hi Stveje and welcome! I think this is quite neat, I really like the feel of the character, being both a trickster who wants honor and a grumpy but idealistic personality. That's a neat set of contrasts.
In context of the setting, I imagine her people to be a small group of unusual Fae living probably in the central forests of Briton. Probably, if we're conserving detail, not too far off from where the dragon in Thanqol's story wound up when it flew its way into Britain and found a place to make a den.
I like the contrasts and internal conflicts too. She wants to find someone trustworthy, and she wants to be trustworthy herself, but she is incapable of trust, having grown up in a place where everyone's a liar out to get her. She's learned far too well how to lie and trick in turn, that she is hardly a good example of the kind of person she seeks or wishes she could be.
I also like to think she's the kind of person people just instantly take a liking to, despite or even because of her grumpiness. You know, people tend to think she's cute when she's scowling, or something like that. And she definitely takes advantage of that. Anything to figure out the real motives and secrets of people.
I'm also thinking about the move that lets her change size, if it's still in 2e. I like to think her people, like the land they live in, can sort of fold themselves up into a smaller or bigger space. Or maybe fluff it as turning into a small animal, anything from a bunny to a fox or a medium-sized dog. If that's appropriate to the setting and the game.
Wise words from the Stag knight I’ve ridden the length and breadth of the kingdom. When I was young and my hair the tawny color of fresh wheat, I fought with King Uther in his vanguard. Let me tell you, the land has seen a lot of good from his peace, however he got it. If you ask me, we have Merlin to thank for much of that, a shame he’s missing now, so I’ve heard.
Times may be hard, but people haven’t forgotten that they were once harder. The difference between having a fire and a roof and being out in the cold is a real one, these old bones know it.
But I’ll tell you this, if I tell you anything. A roof without bread is a frail shelter indeed.
Think on that when you travel. Remember your humility and your knightly oaths. Remember that generosity, not force of arms will be your greatest strength. If you take your due and depart, you’ll be no better than bandits, and you’ll have nary a soul come to join your banner when Uther comes to find you.
He will at that, mark my words. Don’t think you can ride about sowing dissent with your theories that it’s his fault the wheat’s shriveled and the mead’s bitter. Best then, to show some nobility on your parts. Show the people that there’s a better choice for them than old King Uther and prove to them before you need them that they can rely on you to honor your oaths.
Spring is in the mild air and sweetly breathes the breeze: Kaheris rides her dappled mare between the elm and alder trees.
The shadows dance between the boughs and laughter fills the comely wood; music lilts, no beast to rouse, lest any one not call it good.
The maiden knight she rests a while by the crossroad of Saint James, and watches clouds pass single file above the waters of the Thames.
Still she sits, as still as stone, till not a hare would show its heels, and out there comes, adrift, alone, Jack'a'green playing his reels.
His beard is fine and pointed well and gentle are his gleaming eyes; his songs are ignorant of hell, for fair he is, but not so wise.
His cloak is made of shaking leaves and those quick boots are peeling bark; he dances from the veiling trees and makes merry as a meadow-lark.
Enrapt, the knight she watches him, rude master of the wild glen, and in his wrists and ankles slim sees fit place to call her den.
Without a word she loosens mail, lets armor fall from war-kissed skin; her cloak it billows like a sail, and now at last she's captured him.
She's caught him with a look, a glance, a net she weaves with nimble feet; she leaves without a thought her lance, for only with force does it entreat.
They spend a year upon the hill, tarrying as well they may, and happy they'd be if there they still sat and spoke and merry lay.
But the knight she has her duty true and house to keep, and arms to bear, so Jack'a'green she cunning woos to make her home his summer lair.
For when the winds of winter howl the Jack he must away to sleep, and draw the heather as a cowl about his head in troubled sleep.
And for a time they live and love until ill fortune claims their bed, and fire scores the roof above and brings it down about their head.
But naught of this do either know, while they laugh in summer's rain, and feel the ancient earth below and weave lily-leaf to be a train.
And of their daughter, half an elf, bound seven years in skin of fawn, the tale still unfolds itself for time it marches ever on.
Of how she gained her fairy arms we have no more the space to tell, for the cock it cries varied alarms and light in Eastern sky does swell.
Remember two, by love made one, within the close embrace of trees; upon the gentle slopes they run and lose their fears by love's decrees.
The mail is delicate, shaped like fish’s scales, and ripples queerly as she moves. It is something like silver, but firm as stone under a blow.
Her tabard and gloves are a rich, deep black, and her riding-cloak is the delicate hue of the lavender on the hills. The coat of arms emblazoned on her tabard consists of silver branches beneath a white stag’s head, on a royal blue field. These are not her mothers’ arms, and neither are they registered in the lists. Fine thread links pale stones worked into the tabard as constellations: the bear, the wheel, the dragon.
Her sword is white as starlight and cold as ice, and in the dark it gleams as if the noonday sun shone on it alone. RIMENAIL reads the rotten, flaking scabbard.
Her bow is scorched, blackened wood, warm to the touch as if it had laid long in sunlight. Gold rings clasp it round tightly. It creaks alarmingly when bent, and every arrow loosed from its string catches fire at once. (This miracle has thus far been used primarily to start campfires.)
She has a purse of queer dried and smoked fruit. The contents change from day to day. Sometimes there are little black squares, marvelously bittersweet.
Finally, she is haunted by the monster that guarded her arms. It is something like a wolf and something like a rose-bush. She has named it Briar. It allows her to throw her arms around its neck, gentle as a dove, but growls and shakes its thornéd mane at any else who dare approach it.
Tatters, this is very cool and I love the poetry! Couple questions for each.
Stveje: What sort of place are your people tied to? Traditionally, the small folk might have been viewed as connected to druidism, perhaps worshipping a nature goddess. What kind of sacred space do your people protect? How closely connected are they to nature? To the traditional stories of the Fae and changelings? Do they hide their powers when interacting with other folk or make themselves seem more like spirits than physical beings with all their size changing and tricks?
Tatters: What has happened to the glen and the knightly home? Are the ruins of fire built upon, or left as they were? What of the glen? What secrets do your father's folk still protect?
Thanqol, at the moment I don't have any questions because we chatted separately about where Sir Selzi may be now and the nature of the cathedral, but if you have other notes, this is a good time for them.
Rules note. We were discussing info moves, and as a house rule for making PBP flow better, we're going to experiment a bit with Look Closely and Speak Softly. Instead of getting a whole bunch of questions, treat them as one question. Just, any question whatever is fictionally appropriate. If you roll a 10+, you'll get a clear answer and maybe even info volunteered to let you know if something is amiss so you don't get sucker punched for not asking the right question. If you get a 7-9, you get some info that helps you move forward but you might find out the hard way or be in a tight spot. If you miss the move, they'll lie, refuse to answer, you'll misunderstand the situation, or some other similar kinda bad thing that drives the plot.
If you’re frantically flipping through books trying to figure out where the Changeling comes from: I renamed the Dragon because I wanted something Fae instead of something dragonish. (And then Thanqol swooshed right into that conceptual space anyway.)
I also scrambled around my core to make them Sleeping Beauty blessings instead of “I’m a dragon and these things I can do inherently.” There’s even a Norse myth shoutout in there!
Sidebar: I kind of want Constance to be, like, Unnaturally Strong and for that to flavor her +2 Blood. Should I do that, or should I remove one of my “I’m tripling down on +2 Grace” Traits and replace it with “unnatural strength, despite having been a fawn”?
(And if you’re wondering how I got those, I used my What Is A Dragon to snipe a core move from the Beast.)
Stveje: What sort of place are your people tied to? Traditionally, the small folk might have been viewed as connected to druidism, perhaps worshipping a nature goddess. What kind of sacred space do your people protect? How closely connected are they to nature? To the traditional stories of the Fae and changelings?
The land they inhabit is mostly rocky fields and craggy hills with some scraggly forests. The hobbits are closely connected to the earth and rocks of their land, and to the flocks of hardy goats they keep for food, clothes, and transport. These goats have large and unusually twisted horns, which are an important symbolism in their culture.
Wandering their land, you'll come across the spiral or the horned ram pattern everywhere (the number of horns varies), painted on stones and trees, arranged as stone formations in fields and on hills, and in their art and craft. The skulls and horns themselves are hung on walls, above doors, on sign posts, or as center pieces on tables. And they are used for making drinking horns, instruments, jewelry, and other items.
They practice a form of druidism and worship a goat-horned nature goddess, yes (I should name her ... any suggestions?). If this being exists, she seems content to watch over them from afar. Maybe she was once closer and has since withdrawn, or perhaps she was always content to remain distant. Either way, the hobbits have no shortage of stories about her, and they don't all agree, of course.
The hobbits live in small homes with extensive underground cellars and tunnels that form a maze-like network, linking houses together. No hobbit knows all of these passages. It's not unusual to discover that your house has a secret passage to someone else's house that you knew nothing about.
There is only one larger structure in their land: a ruined castle and fortress. It has a story, but that story is shrouded in the mists of time and the fanciful legends that have been invented around it since. A few among the hobbits may know pieces of the real story, but it's unlikely that any single hobbit possesses all the pieces.
Its crumbling towers, halls and dungeons are sacred and said to be where their goddess resides, haunting the nooks and crannies and countless hidden places of its walls. Wanderers too get the sense that it is haunted. It's the only place where the hobbits are mindful of going, always doing so with a level of respect that is uncommon elsewhere.
Do they hide their powers when interacting with other folk or make themselves seem more like spirits than physical beings with all their size changing and tricks?
It depends. When people interact with them directly, they hide their powers and may seem like regular people, just smaller. But when people only see them from afar, and don't directly interact with them, they might adopt a more mysterious and ephemeral impression.
You might hear the occasional story about them, or rather stories that were likely inspired by sightings or encounters with them, but they don't have much contact or connection even with other Fae.
I'll be working on the character sheet and the last polish once I get the 2e book, but the next couple of days are a bit distracted, so it might not be ready until Thursday/Friday.
Tatters, the answer to your question is how much weight you want to be able to put behind that strength. You can say "my character is strong" and do strong character things, but if that's just part of the description, you don't have much backing if I tell you later that an NPC is stronger than Constance, or that she's not positioned to overcome a problem with strength. If you list a trait, it's more fixed, you get to mark it over damage and tell us how it protected you without narrative interference from anyone else. So if you want the last word on being able to say "I lift that boulder and heave it away" without anybody being able to contradict it, that's what the mechanical trait is for.
Also, answer the questions I asked you, Tatters. =P
Stveje, these are great, love the hidden castle. I kind of just want you to name the goat goddess Romme or Rom (as in the middle English for Ram). That description of their land and practices is very clearly Scotland, so they'll be from past the Northernmost part of the kingdom, and the castle will be a place of power there. I expect things are a bit more wild and chaotic in their homeland, but also less corrupted and dying than near Camelot.
What has happened to the glen and the knightly home? Are the ruins of fire built upon, or left as they were?
The wood swelled around it like an infected wound, over the course of a sweltering summer. By the time Uther reassigned the former title and lands of the Alder Knight (to the Knight of the Red Adder, if you can believe it), the manor was little more than burnt stone and charred wood wrapped in root and branch. The Knight of the Red Adder made three attempts to clear out the wood before abandoning it as condemned ground.
(The third involved fire. That was a mistake. One of the peasant laborers threw himself on the bonfire and smothered it with his wet smock, and saved their lives, or at the very least their wits. The trees were leaning. The trees were muttering. The trees have learned hate.)
What of the glen?
Withered. The grass is brown. The trees are bare and creaking. One tore up from the soil, roots and all, and now lies with its head in the Thames. Biting insects swirl around the banks.
It is much like any other place one might stumble into while riding, now. A wasteland. A place where the world has gone brittle and dry and dead and callous.
Here there is fear in a handful of dust.
What secrets do your father's folk still protect?
The same they always have. The changing of forms and shapes. The languages of beast and bird and rain and wind. The knowing of where Bran’s head is buried. The way to walk the road to Perbast, where cats go by night.
While Tatters and Stevje are focusing more on the fae side of Britain, I'm going to be focusing more on the Church side of things. Here are some things I am thinking:
- I am going to borrow the Dark Age thing of referring to the messiah figure as Bloodless Xristos. This is because I am not at all skilled at or entirely comfortable with using actual biblical references. This also sets me in a comfortable space where I can confidently make stuff up without worrying if I've gotten 5th century religious doctrine wrong. - Further, this is fifth century religious doctrine. It's extremely focused on mysticism, sorcery, pilgrimages, and esoterica. There is no line between religion, science, magic and medicine, and there has not been the hammering out of doctrine in church councils. Xristia is extremely freeform and heresy hasn't been invented yet. Wizards will seek out the church because they reason it will make their spells better. A doctor might go on a pilgrimage to learn how to cast a spell to relieve pain. - Accordingly, Felii knows how to do exorcisms, break curses, and do cast some spells of her own. She personally has no idea what the origin of her magic is, it's a freeform mix between wizardry, prayer, and faerie bargaining based on the situation. - Felii is very unusual for her study of magic while serving as a Knight. It's a family tradition dating back to her ancestor, the Paladin of the Threshold, who defended the Emperor against arcane threats. Her family is kind of Belmont-esque in that they've accumulated a very significant store of mystical knowledge over the generations. But, being based in Constantinople, they haven't had much opportunity to actually fight monsters recently, meaning her sisters have mostly slipped towards being more standard knights. Felii took a particular interest in magic as a seventh daughter, which gave her a natural knack for the Art. - Juliet the Apostate is the current empress. She is attempting to syncretize the faith with the Egyptian pantheon. The Egyptian view of the afterlife is a massive cultural influence on the Church, much more so than the Greek.
Hey all. I realized yesterday that I was struggling a bit with how the overall party was forming up (the main thing being that everyone was too disconnected in one way or another from Uther's kingdom). I chatted with a couple folks and we're going to run a bit of an experiment with Thanqol changing his character to one prepared for him to explore how he can play with being typecast.
For Stveje, I'd like to ask if we can start Nin's story with her already having explored the kingdom a bit. I think the game will flow better if the characters aren't completely new to the world they're exploring (and anyway the premise is that they all start the game knowing that Uther is a problem and they're the ones to stop him). I know you're not as familiar with the overall Arthurian setting, so here are a few ideas of ways that Nin might be connected to the bigger kingdom. Feel free to modify these or do something different, they're just for inspiration.
Nin was attacked by a wild beast/bandits/something when she was first traveling and rescued by a knight. The knight took Nin back to her keep to recover, and in gratitude, Nin did odd jobs for the family and returned there several times after her travels. She's seeing the fortunes of that family suffer under Uther and taken it on herself to stop him.
Nin has actually been traveling for a while and was inspired by a younger, healthier Uther and the beautiful kingdom that he had, perhaps even visiting Camelot and emulating some of the chivalry of his court. She's started to see changes though and hear dark things and is resolved to fix the problem.
Nin has been to several villages and loves the kind of simple life that many of the peasant farmers lead, so different from the frustration she's had with her own people. Maybe she even dreams of getting her own piece of land and settling down somewhere, eventually. But with the way things are going, she's worried about the villages she knows.
Okay, apologies for a bit of shuffling here. I was feeling a bit off as this was getting rolling and realized today that I was maybe using the wrong system for this (thanks to Thanqol for asking the question). So, after a bit of mulling and chatting some folks, we're going to switch systems to the Dark Age rules (which are a bit sparse because they've been a playtest forever, but they have what they need). You can find them at lumpley.com/index.php/awda
The premise of the setting doesn't change (Uther is still old and corrupted and that's killing the land and leading the kingdom to ruin). So everything in my first couple OOC posts is the same.
Switching to Dark Age does change your setup though: different playbooks, different types of moves and characters, a different starting situation than the wandering adventure party. My proposal for how this would work best is that you're all part of the same wealthy but small kingdom or duchy, either retainers for an NPC lord or one of you is the lord who the others serve.
It would look something like this: Your keep and lands are not large, perhaps a day's ride across at most, and situated within Uther's kingdom. Perhaps near the forests a few days ride from Camelot. Your household swore oaths of fealty to Uther when he was younger, and you prospered under his rule. But now, you see that the land is suffering and the people under your protection suffer with it. You know that as the king, so the land, and you've heard dark rumors of Uther's doings. He has broken his oaths and abandoned his honor and so it is your duty to oppose him, though you are not strong enough to do so openly without being crushed. Your household must do many things. Offer refuge to those knights fleeing from Uther and build up your forces and your stockpiles. Provide relief to your people, who are beginning to suffer famine. Fight off raiders who are taking advantage of the weakened lands to prey upon the Kingdom. Seek out the aid of the fae, the druids, the church, and anyone else who will assist your efforts. Find Merlin and, if you're lucky, even Uther's rumored heir who could be positioned to succeed him.
As part of character creation, you'd also jointly define some specifics of your keep, the characteristics of your people and perhaps the characteristics of some other peoples if some of the characters are at the stronghold but come from elsewhere.
I realize this is a big shift, and again apologies for shuffling things up. I kind of forgot Dark Age existed and was trying to make Fellowship work as the best system I remembered while writing this up. I am much more excited to run this setup though and I do think it will be better!
I was really happy with Nin, so I'd like to keep her in some form under these changes if possible. I assume there's nothing in her background that's incompatible with the new system or premise, just that she's been gone from home longer and has settled down and become part of this keep of ours, perhaps still as a bit of a wanderer but with strong ties. I'm looking at the Outranger as the most obvious one for her.
What system were you using before you made the switch if I may ask? The original Pendragon? or is there another AW hack of it?
We were using Fellowship, which is a fantasy quest version of AW. It’s really solid (we’re doing a great space fantasy with it in Breathless Dead) but didn’t have the right vibe.
(Good call on Pendragon; I handed Anarion the GPC for inspiration.)
