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Ars Magica: Lumen Montis, A Covenant in the Alps [IC]
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<blockquote data-quote="Malacat" data-source="post: 1307287" data-attributes="member: 14528"><p>Dear Zoltan,</p><p></p><p>I have made the acquaintance of my new peers in the Covenant of Lumen Montis. They are infinitely more civilized than the magi to whom we are accustomed, and I must say that I think a great deal of the difference is that none of them are Tremere. Not one of them has so much as commented on my lack of a sigil, and my inability to lie is welcomed here. It feels like home here, and I hope you are able to join me among them soon.</p><p></p><p>As we expected, the road is long and not particularly easy — travel with a group is wisest. You will want to be careful in the hills half a day's travel west of our border. I met bandits there, if rather unskilled ones, and while their numbers were thinned after our meeting, they remained yet when I left. The tale might amuse you, so I will relate it for you.</p><p></p><p>They lay in wait for us above a place where the road curved along the edge of a sharp drop. It was not quite a cliff, but if you were to drop something such as a cheese down that hillside it would tumble quite far before it came to a stop. It might roll as far as the stream at the bottom. On the other side of the road, the slope was not so steep, but was still not a climb a horse would willingly make.</p><p></p><p>Whether the bandits forced their steeds up that slope before we came or had some secret path to the top of the hill I know not, but when the caravan had spread itself along the horseshoe-shaped path with the hill rising in the middle to block our view of the other end of the caravan, they came down the slope at us, shouting and whooping.</p><p></p><p>I turned Surefoot and drove him up the slope to meet them. Behind me, my travelling companions made their own preparations, many of which seemed to involve screaming, invoking the names of saints, and making final confessions. To one another, so far as I could tell.</p><p></p><p>The bandits outnumbered their horses, and many of them were afoot. I won't trouble you overmuch with details of battle which bore you, but my sword's edge was sharper than a mundane blade and my strength was greater than nature's gift to me. The benefits of my training in the Order, as you promised, Zoltan, gave me a singular advantage in physical combat, and I ended the lives of two mounted bandits before they reached the caravan. Behind them came the footmen, but there I think I might have been victorious without magic. A competent mounted knight with a greatsword is more than a match for a mob of ill-trained, badly armoured bandits. Be that as it may, with my advantages I passed through them like a sword cuts through flesh.</p><p></p><p>Turning, I saw that some of the others in the caravan had taken up arms to defend themselves, and that a battle raged along the length of the caravan. Forcing Surefoot higher up the hill, I saw the entire caravan stretched out and struggling to remain intact. The other end fared much worse than mine and I confess I gave my performance some credit for this. Turning Surefoot to angle down the hill again, I came upon the bandits on that side from behind. I did them considerable damage and forced a good number of them over the edge of the road to tumble down the hillside. I imagine at this point I looked quite the hero to my companions.</p><p></p><p>Unfortunately, I am not the master horseman I would be. In forcing a mixed group of bandits over the edge, I followed too closely. Matters were not helped by the curse which came instinctively to my lips and on which I choked just as I unwillingly took Surefoot over the edge of the road after my bandit victims.</p><p></p><p>Here you might have some sympathy with me, cousin, rather than laughing at me, but in my mind's ear I hear your amusement echoing in my ears. How I wish you were here to laugh at me in the flesh!</p><p></p><p>Galloping down a steep slope is not the hardest task ever faced by a rider, but it is not the easiest either. Populate the slope with angry bandits and the task grows more difficult. Clutch a greatsword to yourself and the task grows harder still. I tumbled out of the saddle halfway down the hill and did not stop rolling until I reached the bottom. The bottom was wet and muddy.</p><p></p><p>What hero do you know who lies in cold mud during a battle? That is, I confess, what I did next. I took a moment or two to collect myself and regain my breath, then worked my way back to my feet. Mud caked my armor and ran cold through my hair. The hillside above me was steep and fraught with bandits. Far above, effectively inaccessible, the battle for the caravan continued, mostly invisible from where I stood. I was in an ill temper, Zoltan.</p><p></p><p>I shouted our battle-cry for the first time since the battle began. One or two bandits turned to look, and our name came to my lips again. Volakula. It is a good name, and I shouted it several times more, brandishing my sword. But the joy of it faded fast, and my anger tumbled out of my mouth in a wordless howl of rage. I began running at the bandits.</p><p></p><p>I later learned that the battle had turned against them up above, but at the time it seemed as though my charge was enough to frighten them away. They broke sideways out of my path like disturbed cockroaches and fled. By the time I had managed a score or two of steps up the slope, there were no bandits left in sight.</p><p></p><p>It is a sign of my overweening vanity that I thought they had fled my coming, but the error served me well, as I felt sufficiently gratified to let my anger go. I made my way back down the hillside, where I found and collected Surefoot, two other undamaged horses, and a wheel of good goat cheese which had bounced down the slope during the battle. The extra horses and their equipment, which I claimed by right of victory, I gave to a woman widowed during the battle, but the cheese I kept for myself.</p><p></p><p>It took half a day to rejoin the caravan from that pit, and it was a week before I was sure I'd gotten rid of all the mud.</p><p></p><p>I would give you more warnings, but I have become the acting turb captain here, and our Primus has charged me with the task of protecting the expedition to explore our new home and place our light on our mountain. I must go, but if I survive the expedition I will write again.</p><p></p><p>Take good care of our mundane kin, and I will hope to see you in another season or two.</p><p></p><p>Your loving kinsman,</p><p></p><p>Tsaran Volakula of Tremere</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Malacat, post: 1307287, member: 14528"] Dear Zoltan, I have made the acquaintance of my new peers in the Covenant of Lumen Montis. They are infinitely more civilized than the magi to whom we are accustomed, and I must say that I think a great deal of the difference is that none of them are Tremere. Not one of them has so much as commented on my lack of a sigil, and my inability to lie is welcomed here. It feels like home here, and I hope you are able to join me among them soon. As we expected, the road is long and not particularly easy — travel with a group is wisest. You will want to be careful in the hills half a day's travel west of our border. I met bandits there, if rather unskilled ones, and while their numbers were thinned after our meeting, they remained yet when I left. The tale might amuse you, so I will relate it for you. They lay in wait for us above a place where the road curved along the edge of a sharp drop. It was not quite a cliff, but if you were to drop something such as a cheese down that hillside it would tumble quite far before it came to a stop. It might roll as far as the stream at the bottom. On the other side of the road, the slope was not so steep, but was still not a climb a horse would willingly make. Whether the bandits forced their steeds up that slope before we came or had some secret path to the top of the hill I know not, but when the caravan had spread itself along the horseshoe-shaped path with the hill rising in the middle to block our view of the other end of the caravan, they came down the slope at us, shouting and whooping. I turned Surefoot and drove him up the slope to meet them. Behind me, my travelling companions made their own preparations, many of which seemed to involve screaming, invoking the names of saints, and making final confessions. To one another, so far as I could tell. The bandits outnumbered their horses, and many of them were afoot. I won't trouble you overmuch with details of battle which bore you, but my sword's edge was sharper than a mundane blade and my strength was greater than nature's gift to me. The benefits of my training in the Order, as you promised, Zoltan, gave me a singular advantage in physical combat, and I ended the lives of two mounted bandits before they reached the caravan. Behind them came the footmen, but there I think I might have been victorious without magic. A competent mounted knight with a greatsword is more than a match for a mob of ill-trained, badly armoured bandits. Be that as it may, with my advantages I passed through them like a sword cuts through flesh. Turning, I saw that some of the others in the caravan had taken up arms to defend themselves, and that a battle raged along the length of the caravan. Forcing Surefoot higher up the hill, I saw the entire caravan stretched out and struggling to remain intact. The other end fared much worse than mine and I confess I gave my performance some credit for this. Turning Surefoot to angle down the hill again, I came upon the bandits on that side from behind. I did them considerable damage and forced a good number of them over the edge of the road to tumble down the hillside. I imagine at this point I looked quite the hero to my companions. Unfortunately, I am not the master horseman I would be. In forcing a mixed group of bandits over the edge, I followed too closely. Matters were not helped by the curse which came instinctively to my lips and on which I choked just as I unwillingly took Surefoot over the edge of the road after my bandit victims. Here you might have some sympathy with me, cousin, rather than laughing at me, but in my mind's ear I hear your amusement echoing in my ears. How I wish you were here to laugh at me in the flesh! Galloping down a steep slope is not the hardest task ever faced by a rider, but it is not the easiest either. Populate the slope with angry bandits and the task grows more difficult. Clutch a greatsword to yourself and the task grows harder still. I tumbled out of the saddle halfway down the hill and did not stop rolling until I reached the bottom. The bottom was wet and muddy. What hero do you know who lies in cold mud during a battle? That is, I confess, what I did next. I took a moment or two to collect myself and regain my breath, then worked my way back to my feet. Mud caked my armor and ran cold through my hair. The hillside above me was steep and fraught with bandits. Far above, effectively inaccessible, the battle for the caravan continued, mostly invisible from where I stood. I was in an ill temper, Zoltan. I shouted our battle-cry for the first time since the battle began. One or two bandits turned to look, and our name came to my lips again. Volakula. It is a good name, and I shouted it several times more, brandishing my sword. But the joy of it faded fast, and my anger tumbled out of my mouth in a wordless howl of rage. I began running at the bandits. I later learned that the battle had turned against them up above, but at the time it seemed as though my charge was enough to frighten them away. They broke sideways out of my path like disturbed cockroaches and fled. By the time I had managed a score or two of steps up the slope, there were no bandits left in sight. It is a sign of my overweening vanity that I thought they had fled my coming, but the error served me well, as I felt sufficiently gratified to let my anger go. I made my way back down the hillside, where I found and collected Surefoot, two other undamaged horses, and a wheel of good goat cheese which had bounced down the slope during the battle. The extra horses and their equipment, which I claimed by right of victory, I gave to a woman widowed during the battle, but the cheese I kept for myself. It took half a day to rejoin the caravan from that pit, and it was a week before I was sure I'd gotten rid of all the mud. I would give you more warnings, but I have become the acting turb captain here, and our Primus has charged me with the task of protecting the expedition to explore our new home and place our light on our mountain. I must go, but if I survive the expedition I will write again. Take good care of our mundane kin, and I will hope to see you in another season or two. Your loving kinsman, Tsaran Volakula of Tremere [/QUOTE]
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