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.
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.
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.
Set (quietly) slams a frustrated fist into the ground behind the statute. [Tia! Tia, we are going to need to talk about boundaries! You can't just root around in my mind when you get upset, and you can't put me in danger when you're trying to keep me safe either!]
She only had a few minutes before guards arrived and she was in a circular library, no time for being angry. She still had her blasters, so she could cause damage or blind her opponents. She rubbed a hand over her jewelry, feeling the slow growing pulse of the rift generators. They wouldn't be ready to use before the guards arrived. She'd practiced attuning them when the Zhianku had first gifted them to her, and a handful of times when she'd been training and when she had to travel. It would go faster if she could run the palace grounds a bit, the more space she took in herself, the faster they'd get back in sync with the area.
She looked down at the library, the senior Annunaki suddenly looking alert, but...she still wanted to get something out of this. If she could do some kind of snatch and grab, maybe a hostage. She didn't have Marrianne's strength, but she could probably knock one of these ones out, they were in the library in the heart of their estate, not armed or expecting combat. Maybe that could stall the guards if she attacked, stole something, and slipped out a side door. They'd give chase but...hmm. What if she doubled back instead, tried to loop a circle through the area?
Set tried to recollect her memories of the estate. She had been through here a few times. There wouldn't be that many guards, not immediately at least, just a handful coming from nearby posts in the first few minutes. How many entrances and exits did she have to choose from, was it more than they could cover all at once?
[Assess the Situation: 4+4+3=11. What here can I use to get something out of this little expedition without being captured? What here is the greatest danger?]
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.
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.
Dancing gingerly here. Such careful mental gymnastics. At least Anathet was a little more prepared here, more focused than last time and now entirely focused on Tia.
[You mean the gods? Like Shamash? That's who I'm here to learn about, we need to find out about them, what they want for our world]
They met right where Anathet said they should. She'd been fifteen minutes early and staring about trying to look cool and not fretful, but doing a terrible job of it by constantly glancing around the market so she didn't miss the bouncer she was supposed to meet. She hadn't been on a date like, ever, and her dreams were a mix of childhood habits (hence the fretful looking about like a schoolgirl waiting to get picked up), old reading material, Zhianku romance (which involved some very risque aura mixing), and whatever her teenage mind had made up out of desperation. She still hadn't seen the bouncer, who she learned was Oumou until she was nearly on top of her. She'd almost jumped out of her robes at the sight.
[Tia, what do you...what do you think being friends means? Does it just mean keeping me safe no matter what? I know I'm small, but I want to do stuff too, not just stay hidden!]
She'd tried to settle herself in. Oumou was mysterious, but her aura didn't have any anger in it, or even much fear. Curiosity, some intrigue, some sense of trying to hold herself in check, but nothing risky. That had calmed Anathet down a lot, she had been worried she'd somehow blow it in the first ten seconds. Instead she'd said hi, tried to smile beneath her veil in that way that made her eyes sparkle. Unconsciously fixed her wide hat. After the greetings, Oumou had taken her by the hand! She had blushed so hard but tried not to say anything. She wasn't sure if Oumou just thought she was small and needed to be led, or if it was a romantic gesture, or something kind of chivalrous and protective in the market for a friend. She didn't really want to know, it was much better not knowing.
The belated sense of gratitude. [Thank you, for trying to protect me. That's important too, I really do appreciate it. Maybe, tell me how I can keep myself safe, how to stay hidden from the gods. Do they...um...are they like you? Like, where they get their powers? No, wait, you're related to the djinn, they're doing something different, right?]
The fried tofu was delicious. Anathet really liked that kind of fair, and getting to eat was the one time where you didn't have to worry too much about keeping everything around your face in perfect order. Food needed to be snuck beneath the veil, but the motion didn't have to be absolutely perfect, so that was something. The shop smelled good too, and the small wooden seats were firm and let Anathet's feet touch the floor. Oh, gods, had Oumou chosen it so Anathet could sit straight that way? No, no way, she had definitely picked it for the food, this was just a coincidence. Why was she blushing again?!
A-anyway, she'd asked Oumou about work, avoided the topic of family since she hadn't wanted to share about her own mom. Everybody knew not to ask too much about family since the invasion, there was always the risk someone had crossed the Annunaki the wrong way. They'd talked a little about food, Anathet had shared how the Zhianku learned about other cultures, watching her aura when she ate and adjusting for sweetness and spice. She'd noticed Oumou liked her tofu with chili and had added some more to her own to match.
[I need to hide my friends too. The others I was with in the library. And Oumou, she's a friend too, we just met. It's okay to have more than one friend, maybe you could meet them too? Marianne was...I think she wanted to meet you before, she seemed a bit disappointed when you left at the library.]
Oumou was just a friend, right? They'd parted ways with a little sort of handshake but handhold kind of thing. Nothing tender in public even in the lower city, it might get reported. But, why did Anathet keep picturing that low rumbling laugh as Oumou moved closer and closer to her. Why did she keep imagining a hand around her shoulders pulling her close, her robes brushing up against Oumou's utilitarian pants. Why couldn't she stop blushing?!
[I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'M SORRY!] Anathet all but shouts into her own mind space. She nearly shouts it out loud, just barely holding onto the need not to reveal herself in the Seneschal's palace. But sending her thoughts in the face of that Gorgon-esque onslaught is like trying to shout across a field in the middle of a hurricane.
She accompanies her apologies by crawling backwards as fast as she's able, back behind the pillar and then up another level, carefully, curling in on herself behind a statue of the Seneschal or some ancestor of his holding a book in one hand while his other, outstretched arm points at the horizon in an epic pose. It's really too much for highlighting a ring of bookshelves, but then again this is the central dome of the most powerful Annunaki in Babylon (save for gods of course).
[I'll be a good girl, I promise, I'll stay right here out of sight, far away, okay?] Her mind flashes back to those first memories she had inadvertently shared with Tia in a rush, her childhood embarrassments and fears bubbling up when her own self-confidence was waning. Maybe that's why Tia was being overprotective.
[...Who are They] she asks, after a moment, putting the same stress on it as Tia did. [Do you mean the Seneschal and his ministers? Or the god who's visiting or...someone else? Why can't I be brave until whoever they are is gone?]
Okay, I think I'm going to call this, since it's not really moving. If you all want to plan out a finale or epilogue, you have my blessing to do whatever you please. Tatterdemalion has expressed interest in it.
Deception was not really Anathet's strength, but she did want to listen. [Just let me get a little closer Tia. I'm not going to do anything, it would raise too much suspicion anyway. I just want to know what they're planning so I can tell my friends. Then I'll leave, okay?]
Anathet tries to start creeping closer so she can hear everything they're discussing and see the data tablets. She just needs to keep out of sight while going down a ring or so. It's evening, the lights aren't perfect, it really shouldn't be that hard if Tia just lets her move forward a bit more. If she can keep eyes on them, then once they leave, she can grab a copy of the data tablets (or follow wherever they're taken until somebody puts them down). That would be more than enough information to set up an operation against Shamash, or maybe to try for something else secure while everybody is distracted. Either way, these plans are worth well more than a tablet's weight in gold.
So, just, let her get a little closer, okay Tia? Everything will be fine.
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