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Sir Gerard d'Montfort - In his own words (a tale of Anka Seth)- Updated Nov 11th
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<blockquote data-quote="Haraash Saan" data-source="post: 3152585" data-attributes="member: 46615"><p>There was a collective of gasp of surprise. I tried not to but even I who had been exposed to wealth from my earliest days, could appreciate the cost involved. As I mentioned earlier it was some five thousand Silver Sickles to enter. Only the mound seemed immune, he was still wiping his bloody nose with what I assume was a sleeve and sculling his soup.</p><p></p><p>Baastian smiled smugly, appreciating the desired response he received. “Your patron…,” he commenced.</p><p></p><p>“Who may I ask is our patron?” I interrupted impatiently. I knew that it must be some noble or very wealthy merchant, but before I heard anymore I had to learn whether it was someone that I found respectable enough to be my employer.</p><p></p><p>“As I was saying, your patron will be the Baron of Yorath, and your training and equipment will be supplied in Yorathton.” Continued Baastian.</p><p></p><p>What little I knew of The Baron of Yorath informed me that he was relatively wealthy but for reasons unknown to me, had very few knights. He was seen as an eccentric, but had a earned a lot of respect in high circles due to his successes in the Halfast Games. Yorath itself was the furthest Barony of the Kingdom in relation to the capital Guerney City. It occupied the south east corner of the Kingdom which was essentially a natural peninsula, with all but its western border surrounded by the ocean.</p><p></p><p>Baastian went on to tell us that every year, the Baron formed a new gladiatorial team for two main purposes. The first was to win glory at the Games and the second was to create an armed company that would effectively act upon his beck and call. One does what one must when one has few knights. We would be required to swear allegiance to him and do his bidding as required. You may think that this would not sit well with me, being of noble stock myself and with a knighthood serving another Baron almost guaranteed, and initially it did weigh heavy upon me, but it is not uncommon to serve more than one lord. </p><p></p><p>Currently the Baron had two other mercenary bands, the first called themselves the Massive Hand. Six warriors and a minstrel formed the group. The minstrel was in the company to record and proclaim their achievements, although apparently he was also quite deft with a blade. Their principal tactic was to charge their foes quickly and then hack them down even more swiftly. As they were still in existence, it must have been an effective tactic, if somewhat uncouth.</p><p></p><p>The second band were a collection of mages, each with a different speciality. They had the creative name of Five Kinds of Death. I had only a little knowledge of magic, both my mother and twin sister were secret practitioners, but I knew enough to not want to get on any mages’ bad side. I hoped they did not wear costumes similar to that of the wizard seated in the tavern. It would be too amusing, and their name would lose any fear that it might inspire. Imagine a group of old men dressed in robes covered with astrological symbols pottering about the sandy arena facing an organised, well trained and armed unit of warriors. How could one not laugh?</p><p></p><p>Baastien continued, “At Yorath you will undergo several tests, team oriented, physical and mental. They will allow the Baron to decide whether you are indeed worthy to be in his employ. If you are unsuccessful you will receive ten Sickles for your troubles and provisions enough to see you back here to Halfast, or anywhere else you wish to go. If you are successful you will be required to swear allegiance to the Baron and then commence your training to better prepare you for the Games. I should also mention that these positions give no pay as such, however, you will be able to keep one half of your winnings from the Games. The Baron of course is making a considerable investment and will take the other half of the spoils.”</p><p></p><p>The mention of money and perhaps more importantly food, once again had the mound’s attention. “I’m in!” he exclaimed quickly. Baastian did not look too comfortable at the proclamation, but said nothing. The mound then nervously, I took them for nerves at the time, but they were just the shakes, lit some sort of rolled weed and began to smoke. That seemed to calm him.</p><p></p><p>To me it sounded like a good opportunity. “I accept these terms, Baastian.” I said. “I will accompany you to Yorath to meet the Baron and successfully undergo his tests.”</p><p></p><p>He nodded to me, pleased at my response. “And you others? What say you?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>I guess now would be a good time to summarise the rest of my companions. Mortec the Gnome I have already briefly described. The only other thing of note was a small golden holy symbol of an open tome that I was not familiar with around his neck. A quick enquiry gave me my answer. Mortec was a follower of Todesmagie, God of knowledge and enlightenment. I myself have an interest in histories and tales, perhaps I would have someone to converse with other than Baastian on the journey to Yorathton.</p><p></p><p>Next was the woodsman, Argonne. Seated beside him was a tall lanky man, introduced as Strav, shortened from Stravarious. A man that shortens his name has no self respect in my opinion. Strav was hooded and masked so that his entire face was covered, with only a slit for his eyes. I must have somehow missed the new mask fashion that was sweeping the lower classes. The rest of his attire was that of a traveller, worn and dusty. A rapier that hung by his side was his only apparent defence.</p><p></p><p>Opposite Stravarious was Morgan, a Fastendian man of medium height and slight build. He had relatively non-descript features and clothing. Later I learnt that his father and brothers were here to compete in the Games, as they had done previously. Smithing was the family trade, fighting a bonus. Morgan did not look to fit the part for either.</p><p></p><p>Finally, there was the mound. His name was Moxadder, pronounced ‘Mo-hadar’, and was, as suspected, another Fastendian. He was a strange man, older than the other recruits gathered at the table and very jumpy. As he moved (or perhaps twitched, I could not really tell), I glimpsed tattoos through the collection of rags he wore as clothing. At that point I knew little of him other than that he had no dress sense. He had not eaten for some time and he seemed to enjoy his weed and maybe other substances as well.</p><p></p><p>One by one they agreed to join the company for the journey and the trials that awaited in the South East at Yorathton. </p><p></p><p>Baastian introduced us to one last member of the party, the dog called Kuruul. To say that I was shocked is an understatement. I had thought nothing more of the animal than a companion to Baastain. How could the hound be considered a part of the gladiatorial company? Even allowing for the eccentricities of the some of the nobility it remained plainly ridiculous.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Haraash Saan, post: 3152585, member: 46615"] There was a collective of gasp of surprise. I tried not to but even I who had been exposed to wealth from my earliest days, could appreciate the cost involved. As I mentioned earlier it was some five thousand Silver Sickles to enter. Only the mound seemed immune, he was still wiping his bloody nose with what I assume was a sleeve and sculling his soup. Baastian smiled smugly, appreciating the desired response he received. “Your patron…,” he commenced. “Who may I ask is our patron?” I interrupted impatiently. I knew that it must be some noble or very wealthy merchant, but before I heard anymore I had to learn whether it was someone that I found respectable enough to be my employer. “As I was saying, your patron will be the Baron of Yorath, and your training and equipment will be supplied in Yorathton.” Continued Baastian. What little I knew of The Baron of Yorath informed me that he was relatively wealthy but for reasons unknown to me, had very few knights. He was seen as an eccentric, but had a earned a lot of respect in high circles due to his successes in the Halfast Games. Yorath itself was the furthest Barony of the Kingdom in relation to the capital Guerney City. It occupied the south east corner of the Kingdom which was essentially a natural peninsula, with all but its western border surrounded by the ocean. Baastian went on to tell us that every year, the Baron formed a new gladiatorial team for two main purposes. The first was to win glory at the Games and the second was to create an armed company that would effectively act upon his beck and call. One does what one must when one has few knights. We would be required to swear allegiance to him and do his bidding as required. You may think that this would not sit well with me, being of noble stock myself and with a knighthood serving another Baron almost guaranteed, and initially it did weigh heavy upon me, but it is not uncommon to serve more than one lord. Currently the Baron had two other mercenary bands, the first called themselves the Massive Hand. Six warriors and a minstrel formed the group. The minstrel was in the company to record and proclaim their achievements, although apparently he was also quite deft with a blade. Their principal tactic was to charge their foes quickly and then hack them down even more swiftly. As they were still in existence, it must have been an effective tactic, if somewhat uncouth. The second band were a collection of mages, each with a different speciality. They had the creative name of Five Kinds of Death. I had only a little knowledge of magic, both my mother and twin sister were secret practitioners, but I knew enough to not want to get on any mages’ bad side. I hoped they did not wear costumes similar to that of the wizard seated in the tavern. It would be too amusing, and their name would lose any fear that it might inspire. Imagine a group of old men dressed in robes covered with astrological symbols pottering about the sandy arena facing an organised, well trained and armed unit of warriors. How could one not laugh? Baastien continued, “At Yorath you will undergo several tests, team oriented, physical and mental. They will allow the Baron to decide whether you are indeed worthy to be in his employ. If you are unsuccessful you will receive ten Sickles for your troubles and provisions enough to see you back here to Halfast, or anywhere else you wish to go. If you are successful you will be required to swear allegiance to the Baron and then commence your training to better prepare you for the Games. I should also mention that these positions give no pay as such, however, you will be able to keep one half of your winnings from the Games. The Baron of course is making a considerable investment and will take the other half of the spoils.” The mention of money and perhaps more importantly food, once again had the mound’s attention. “I’m in!” he exclaimed quickly. Baastian did not look too comfortable at the proclamation, but said nothing. The mound then nervously, I took them for nerves at the time, but they were just the shakes, lit some sort of rolled weed and began to smoke. That seemed to calm him. To me it sounded like a good opportunity. “I accept these terms, Baastian.” I said. “I will accompany you to Yorath to meet the Baron and successfully undergo his tests.” He nodded to me, pleased at my response. “And you others? What say you?” he asked. I guess now would be a good time to summarise the rest of my companions. Mortec the Gnome I have already briefly described. The only other thing of note was a small golden holy symbol of an open tome that I was not familiar with around his neck. A quick enquiry gave me my answer. Mortec was a follower of Todesmagie, God of knowledge and enlightenment. I myself have an interest in histories and tales, perhaps I would have someone to converse with other than Baastian on the journey to Yorathton. Next was the woodsman, Argonne. Seated beside him was a tall lanky man, introduced as Strav, shortened from Stravarious. A man that shortens his name has no self respect in my opinion. Strav was hooded and masked so that his entire face was covered, with only a slit for his eyes. I must have somehow missed the new mask fashion that was sweeping the lower classes. The rest of his attire was that of a traveller, worn and dusty. A rapier that hung by his side was his only apparent defence. Opposite Stravarious was Morgan, a Fastendian man of medium height and slight build. He had relatively non-descript features and clothing. Later I learnt that his father and brothers were here to compete in the Games, as they had done previously. Smithing was the family trade, fighting a bonus. Morgan did not look to fit the part for either. Finally, there was the mound. His name was Moxadder, pronounced ‘Mo-hadar’, and was, as suspected, another Fastendian. He was a strange man, older than the other recruits gathered at the table and very jumpy. As he moved (or perhaps twitched, I could not really tell), I glimpsed tattoos through the collection of rags he wore as clothing. At that point I knew little of him other than that he had no dress sense. He had not eaten for some time and he seemed to enjoy his weed and maybe other substances as well. One by one they agreed to join the company for the journey and the trials that awaited in the South East at Yorathton. Baastian introduced us to one last member of the party, the dog called Kuruul. To say that I was shocked is an understatement. I had thought nothing more of the animal than a companion to Baastain. How could the hound be considered a part of the gladiatorial company? Even allowing for the eccentricities of the some of the nobility it remained plainly ridiculous. [/QUOTE]
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