The Second Descent of Grace
This post is likely to be a tad controversial - viz. my rulings in the game, as contingencies which have no rules precedent are addressed. I'll answer some outstanding questions, then try and explain my reasoning for the current post, and finally post the update itself.
Q's
So
Sep, is a Penitent an Ex-Paladin in your campaign?
The Penitents are those Templars who seized Eadric's castle at Deorham, executed his retainers, and subsequently repented. They're fanatics, who are consumed with the need to expunge their guilt.
so Sep...did Eadric's player catch you off guard or had you prepared for a water parting?
Completely off-guard. Marc had given it some thought, but hadn't shared the information with me.
Did you have Tagur's response pre-concieved or were you reacting to the arguments that Eadric brought forward?
A little of both. I know Tagur's character (I quite like Tagur, actually), so it was relatively easy for me to gauge his response. The specifics were unknown, however. I tend to play NPCs on the fly to a large extent - it makes for interesting gaming, but means that the plot tends to go off in weird directions.
Did it ever occur to Ortwin to just give Ulao his (very valuable and unique) pick?
It did. His main objections were a) Ulao is 12 feet tall, and what's he going to do with a size S pick; and b) Some extra cash would be nice for Ortwin, also.
I gotta ask is that actual in game discussions (do your players really talk like that in game ?) or is that artistic liscense ?
Sometimes. Dan (Mostin's player)
really talks like that - in fact his language is even more long-winded and pedantic than I've indicated. Dan reads too much Jack Vance.
Three Instances of Grace
I'm generally against the idea of "Limit Breaks," or "Wild Cards" which characters can play, but at the same time, there are a lot of things which happen in this game which the rules can't really begin to address.
An arrangement that I made with Lombard (Eadric's Player), was that he could invoke
Grace at three key points during the course of the campaign - after the divine nature of his mission had been revealed to him.
Even though, technically, the Celestial Descent at Khu was precipitated by the acts of an NPC, Mulissu (actually my wife, Susan was playing her at the time so I guess she was a PC at that point), I ruled that it was such an extraordinary occurrence, that it counted against Eadric's "credit." He had two instances of Grace left.
The metagaming conundrum which knowing this caused was easily overcome: if Eadric was in a pivotal situation, and Lombard demonstrated
exceptional roleplaying, only then would I allow Grace to intervene. If he invoked it. The other thing was that Lombard
did not know how it would manifest. I, of course, did. It was therefore up to him to decide how best to act upon it, when it happened.
In the event, the Battle of the Crossings of the Nund proved to be the second descent of Grace: it manifested quite differently from the first, but it was in reaction to a very unexpected sequence of actions from Eadric, where he demonstrated the quality of
mercy, but managed to contextualize it within the story and the whole, ongoing religious paradox thing.
Hats off, Marc.
For twenty rounds, the
Paragon Template from the ELH was applied to Eadric. He became, briefly, the perfect human being, and the perfect paladin. I've added "Paragon Eadric" to the Rogues Gallery thread, just for the sake of completeness.
Btw, a
kanista is a wedge-shaped formation of mounted Templars. This will also prove relevant in a later post.
**
Update
As Eadric gained the western shore of the river with his knights, lightly armoured mounted auxiliaries scattered north and south along the riverbank. Unable to withstand the heavy cavalry, they instead fled to join with the main Templar companies who were positioned at the ends of the bridges. Mist limited visibility to around a hundred yards, and the Paladin knew that he needed to act swiftly to take advantage of the surprise that it offered.
Half of the Ardanese mercenaries were immediately dispatched to the south under Olann’s command. They were supported by several squads of armoured knights, together with their squires and retainers, led by Breama the Bitch and Laird Togull. Olann was detailed with disrupting the Temple emplacements, and drawing attention away from the amphibious assault launched by Ryth and his Uediians south of Aaki’s bridge – Eadric hoped that even if news of this plan had reached Brey and his commanders, then it would be discounted in the light of news of their passage across the river.
The remainder of the mounted archers were to form a screen north and west of the main force of heavy horse, and hopefully intercept any Temple squadrons who were riding for the northern crossing. The zealots, along with the bulk of the armoured aristocracy, headed straight towards the north, their front increasing in aspect as they rode. It took them only two minutes to reach the outworks: lines of stakes, hastily set the previous night, barring passage. Companies of mixed pikemen and crossbowmen already stood in loose formation behind the barriers, and waves of quarrels slammed into the vanguard. Behind, half-visible, the Templar knights were ordering their lines.
Dammit, Eadric thought, reining in.
They deployed too fast. And Pikemen..
He turned to speak to Tahl, but the Inquisitor had already pulled another scroll out and was incanting fiercely. He pushed his hand forward as power rushed through him, and the ground ahead rippled ferociously, flattening the defenses and knocking dozens of Temple men-at-arms to the ground. The unluckiest amongst them were drawn into cracks and fissures that had opened briefly in the ground, before slamming shut with a terrific
boom.
Eadric motioned to Hyne, and yelled. "Sound the charge!"
A horn rang out, and they surged forwards. As they thundered towards the Temple lines, Eadric’s eyes tried to penetrate the mist to discern the location of Brey’s standard, but unsuccessfully. More horns sounded – this time from the enemy - and, terrified, the remaining infantry who intervened either fled or fell back to the ground, in an attempt to escape the inevitable. Although disordered and incompletely prepared, the Temple countercharge was devastating. Lances shivered as they struck shields and armour, and penetrated flesh.
The wedge of zealots, led by Eadric, punched a hole in the Temple front, but the enemy knights swelled around, their discipline and training all too apparent as they broke upon Trempa’s aristocracy and discomfited them. The melee which ensued was confused, brutal and merciless.
**
Ortwin tapped his fingers nervously.
"Well?" Mostin asked.
"Talk about lousy timing, Mostin." He had returned, briefly, with the Alienist into his extradimensional retreat. The scene on the Mirror of Urm-Nahat showed Eadric on the meadow, preparing to cross the Nund.
"If you’d rather not know…" Mostin began.
"Don’t be facetious," Ortwin said. "Where the hell is Nwm, anyway?"
"Eadric specifically asked him to stay out of it," Mostin replied.
"Do you think I should go?" The Bard asked.
"One Satyr can do little," Mostin replied.
"Unless that one Satyr is
me," he countered. "But should I go?"
Mostin shrugged. "Perhaps," he answered.
"Will you buff me?"
Mostin sighed. "Ortwin, you know how much grief violating the Injunction cost me last time. Do you
have to put me in the position of choosing?"
"Please?" Ortwin gave his most imploring smile. "It’s not like you’re throwing lightning around."
"Oh, very well," Mostin groaned.
**
In his initial charge, Eadric had struck down Terquen – a knight of no mean ability whom he had immediately recognized from his days in the Temple. Terquen’s lance splintered on Eadric’s shield as the momentum of his mount carried on, and two other Templars targeted Eadric rather than those directly ahead of themselves – one lance glanced off of his shield, another off of his helm.
Bile rose in the Paladin’s throat – Terquen was a good man.
He dropped his lance and Lukarn sprang from its scabbard. Before he had prepared himself, a longsword struck him soundly but almost harmlessly from another Templar. He lashed out, grunting, but then abruptly twisted his blade in the air as he struck.
A young paladin, with an open-faced helmet, perhaps eighteen years old.
Dammit, Eadric thought, and buffeted him on the head with the flat of his blade. The force of the blow was still immense, and his opponent toppled off of his horse, insensible. In a series of rapid exchanges which lasted less than half a minute, four more knights succumbed to his skill: in each case, the Paladin struck them with the flat or the pommel of Lukarn. By the end of it, he, Tahl, and half a dozen others had passed clean through the Temple line. Eadric was almost entirely unscathed.
Tahl looked at him quizzically. "Do you intend to subdue them all?" He half-yelled ironically. The clamour of the battle was terrific.
Eadric thought sadly of Terquen. "I will draw no more Templar blood," he replied.
"You will have blood on your hands no matter what," Tahl pointed out. "You are going to be the only person here who isn’t striking to kill – recall that the Penitents and Trempans are following your orders to do so. Should I instruct them otherwise?"
"No," Eadric replied.
Tahl looked dubious. Was Eadric somehow attempting to relinquish responsibility for the deaths that would occur there? The Paladin read his mood.
"You do not need to doubt, Tahl. Before the day is out, I will have the death of hundreds weighing on my conscience."
"I do not understand. What do you hope to achieve,
Ahma?"
"To stimulate insight," he replied.
Tahl immediately understood the paradox. Mercy and judgement. Compassion and retribution. Forgiveness and damnation. Oronthon and, vicariously, his emissary, was all of those things.
"Now may not be the best time to act as a teacher: you understand that this is likely to be misapprehended," the Inquisitor said. "That others might accuse you of shirking your responsibility, of shying away from the deeds that need to be done. One could attribute your acts to cowardice."
Eadric smiled. "Then the paradox is complete. Only a coward would shy away from the possibility of being branded a coward."
The Paladin snapped his visor shut, and rode back into the fray. He was present in the
Now more than he had ever before been. Scenes, impressions and thoughts flowed through his mind like liquid, and he let them pass. He opened himself totally, and all thoughts of self were vanquished. Spontaneous, instinctive, unassailable, irresistible. He dismounted, cast off his helm, threw down his shield, and gripped Lukarn in both hands.
Grace had descended upon him.
*
In the southern encounter, Olann’s horsed archers discharged volley after volley into the Temple ranks: their recurved horn bows sang and the air was thick with darts. The phalanx of Trempan knights, together with supporting mounted men-at-arms waited for an opportunity to engage, but to no avail. The Temple foot soldiers – chainmail clad and secure behind a wall of shields and stakes – merely bided their time and sent a slow but steady stream of quarrels into the Ardanese outriders, gradually wearing them down.
Bugger, thought Breama. Somehow she had to draw out their cavalry, or Ryth would be discovered before he could effectively deploy his longbowmen, and they would make mincemeat of him. She sent messengers to Olann, and others to Streek – who waited on the eastern bank of the river with the heavy infantry – and immediately ordered her knights to follow her westwards, parallel to the line of Temple emplacements. She enjoined the Ardanese to ignore their losses and continue their assault, and ordered Streek to launch an assault upon the bridge itself from the opposite shore. As she and Togull redeployed, mounted Temple auxiliaries appeared from out of the mist and harried their right flank. After a series of brief skirmishes, the Countess gained the western end of the Temple defenses.
She heard them long before she saw them: the rumour of many horses bearing down upon her from the southwest. Or was it the west?
"Sound the charge!" She ordered her herald.
"Which way?" Togull asked ironically.
"Er, that way," she said, pointing into the fog. "I think."
*
The messenger who brought news to Streek – a young esquire by the name of Tambur – rode at breakneck speed over the dry river bed. His haste, caused as much by fear of the waters around him suddenly collapsing in on him as by desire to deliver his message swiftly, soon brought him to the presence of the Laird.
"The bridge itself?" Streek complained.
"Immediately, my Lord," Tambur confirmed.
Streek grumbled and put his helmet on.
**
"There," Ortwin said, pointing at a cluster of high-ranking Templars in the reserve force.
"Are you quite insane?" Mostin asked. "You will be totally cut off."
Ortwin laughed. "You underestimate me, Mostin."
"I think perhaps you overestimate yourself," the Alienist countered. "Might I remind you of Iua?"
"That isn’t necessary," the Bard remarked drily. "I am unlikely to forget. Note, however, that I wasn’t
hasted, and I wasn’t wearing
this."
Ortwin pulled his cloak around himself, and immediately appeared to shift several feet to the right.
"I wonder if they’ll mistake you for a Devil," Mostin mused. "Your behaviour will be rather atypical of a Satyr."
Ortwin shrugged. "Where is this group in relation to Ed?" He asked.
The scene changed rapidly as the mirror scanned back through the mist around three hundred feet, and Eadric appeared on its face. Mostin raised an eyebrow.
Ortwin’s jaw dropped.
**
Eadric broke upon the Temple ranks, and began toppling knights from their horses at incredible speed. Lukarn slammed into torsos, battered helmets or crashed against shields and staggered their bearers. Wherever he struck, they fell. He seemed to anticipate every move, to possess such complete awareness of his environment that he avoided almost every blow directed at him. And even where lances or swords should have pierced or slashed him, they seemed to recoil, or to glance harmlessly off of him.
"What the f*ck?" Ortwin exclaimed.
Within the space of a minute, a swathe of armoured forms – buffeted and pummelled - lay groaning around Eadric in a circle. In his immediate vicinity, the battle had ceased entirely, as Templars sat unsurely on their steeds or backed away from him.
From the north, through the mist, the reserve force of Templars led by Brey appeared. If Eadric had still been Eadric, he would have inwardly groaned.
A column of violet fire engulfed him, but did nothing beyond warming his armour slightly. Lances were levelled at him, but the hands which held them shook. He spoke.
"I am the Emissary of the God whom you claim to understand," he called out in a clear voice. "An act of violence against me is an affront to him. You are instructed to lay down your weapons, and sound a general surrender. You will follow me into Morne."
Brey wavered, nodded, and hung his head. Fate – or Eadric – had, in fact, spared him for a third time.
Zhuel manifested, and if any doubts remained, they were layed to rest. Brey wept.
But the surrender came too late for Breama and Togull, who were both slain as the
kanista of Temple knights overwhelmed their squadrons, for many of Olann’s archers, and for scores within the southern Temple emplacements when the rain from Ryth’s longbows finally fell upon them. Many had perished in both engagements.
Much bitterness resulted.
When Ortwin appeared, the inner fire had not yet left Eadric. The Paladin smiled benignly.
The Bard swallowed, and fought against the urge of prostrating himself before his oldest and closest friend.
