"M'lord," Etienne said, voice a hush for your lady asleep within, "There's been trouble on the coast. A ship's crashed in the storm, came to ground on your coast." It was odd for ships to voyage at this time of year, the autumn storms were known to be violent and unpredictable. "I was going to gather a search party. There maybe survivors, and if not, by rights whatever is wrecked upon your lands is yours to claim."

"And this could not wait until morning?" you asked, voice low and harsh from your tiredness. You clench your eyes. "Forgive my tone sir," you said.

"I'd be cross too, to be drawn from an angel's side," Etienne said with a crooked smirk. You appreciated the jest, though you knew Etienne had no taste for women.

> send a rescue party
> lead the rescue party
> do nothing until dawn
> do nothing at all
-
Character sheet
http://pastebin.com/rZQ8vVBd
http://pastebin.com/m33m5nZ5

>>753873
> send a rescue party

>>753873
> send a rescue party
Then we'll come at dawn.

>>753873
> lead the rescue party

Would be good to sit in the saddle.

Also great to see you again HF. I take it this takes place after the loss of their first child ?

>>753873
>send a rescue party

>Hugo is right now balls deep inside Sabeen for the third time this evening.

>>753873
> lead the rescue party

>>753915
God wills it.

>>753873
>send a rescue party

Preferably with someone who can make an estimate of what the ships worth

Inb4 lovecraftian horrors

>>753873
> lead the rescue party
We're awake, and unless we feel like waking others up we may as well get some fresh air as opposed to nothing.

"Gather what men you think appropriate to search the wreck," you said, "I'll join you upon the beach at dawn."

Etienne nodded. "My lord," he ducked a bow as he backed away. You closed the door behind him with a sigh, resting your brow on the cool surface of the door. The rain still fell softly outside, the sound of a pitter-patter on the stonework of your keep. You turned back to your bed at the sound of a soft sigh. Ioveta was sitting up, eyes small from sleep, her golden hair a mess around her fine features. The white shift she wore clung to her shoulders, her form.

"What's happened, Wil?" she said, moving out from under the blankets one long leg at a time. She crossed the floor to stand before you, her hand finding your barechest, looking up at you through long lashes. Sleep was fast evaporating from her, her eyes filling with scrutinizing intelligence.

"There's been a wreck up the coast, a bad one," you said, "Etienne is taking men to search it."

"We must send a physician, whoever has survived will need caring for," from her tone you felt she meant that she should go and act as that physician. Her training in the Church had given her some medical skill, and Old Ibrahim was not up for a post-midnight excursion. Ever a tender women thinking of others, even as she fought her own grief.

"I'll see any survivots cared for," you said, and a smile, too rare these last months, opened on her face.

You cupped her chin and kissed her soft upon the lips, her mouth answering yours. It grew hungry for a moment, then slipped away, a look of uncertainty upon Ioveta's brow. Ever since she had lost the child she had shied away from such physical intimacy. You took her into your arms.

"When you are ready, my love," you said, kissing the hair on her head. The tension eased in her body as she cradled herself against you. You took her back to bed, and tucked her under the blankets. Her smile stayed as sleep reclaimed her, and you kissed her worried brow.

"All will be well, my love," you murmurred, and hoped it was true.

> wait until Etienne returns
> ride out and meet Etienne on the beach

>>753945
> ride out and meet Etienne on the beach

>>753945
> ride out and meet Etienne on the beach
"I'll join you upon the beach at dawn." as we said

>>753945
> ride out and meet Etienne on the beach
I assume we go everywhere with our lion banner and finest clothes just so everyone knows how important we are?

>>753945
> ride out and meet Etienne on the beach

>>753964
Can just imagine Iovetta

"You cant wear your lion helmet everywhere love."

>>753945
>> ride out and meet Etienne on the beach

What could go wrong?

EVERYTHING

>>753966
That and why get it soaked with sea spray. Gotta take care of that magnificent pelt. Y'know other than fighting in it.

>>753964
>>753966
>Dammit woman you're TEARING ME APART!

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>>753975

Remember to give second wife and goodbye kiss before we leave.

You do not rush. You have a few hours until dawn. First you wash, a bowl of water and a cloth used to wipe the sweat and grime from your body, bring some further life to your face. Some would have a servant wash them, but you had yet to develop that habit. With a mirror's guide you neaten your beard, with tweezers and scissor you groom your appearance into that of a more civilized man.

Then, after wiping away all stray hairs the litter your chest and shoulders, you pull on a fine white undershirt, over which you pull a cream and blue doublet, toggled up the chest, and over that you pulled your surcoat. Next you pulled on a pair of fine leather gloves, a wedding gift from Solomon, red and trimmed with gold thread.

Finally you buckle your sword, a fine blade of Damascus steel held in a red leather scabbard. Last you place around your neck a golden cross, letting it lie against your heart. If Christ was merciful some would have survived this wreck, if Christ was in your favour, it would have a belly full of treasure to go with it as well.

In your antechamber you find Alexius roused, the slow witted Greek boy pissing in his pot.

You cuff the back of his head in a friendly gesture. "Dress quick lad and saddle my horse, w 're to be on the beach within the hour," you said.

When you left your apartments you noticed the rain had stopped, leaving the world cool and wet, stone gleaming in the grey predawn light. You went to a window, looking down onto your courtyard, to the wet limbs of a rising date palm, the rain darkened soul of the yard itself. The gleaming stonework of the citadel.

"Wil," the familiar voice, spiced with the exotic, turned you. Chihirzahd stood in blouse and skirts, dressed already for the day, her thick black hair tied into a single heavy braid that curled around her neck and down her shoulder. Her hawk-like eyes were deep with worry.

"What's wrong?" you said.

She nibbled on her bottom lip, a nervous gesture unusual on her usually calm, smiling face. "I have a bad feeling about this," she said, both hands held to her belly.

You could laugh. "The ship wreck?" you said. She nodded. "With luck there will be a survivor or two, there's no cause for worry."

"Wil," she said.

You took her cheek in your hand, and pulled her mouth to yours. The two of you parted wetly, her lips slow to leave yours. At this hour, in this place, it was no scandal to kiss her. "Ever since I wed you've worried like a hen," you said, finger and thumb caressing her face, "I think you are becoming anxious."

"Just be careful," she said, her voice uncharacteristically girlish in its pitch.

Reminder that Mathilde is a slutty virgin whore

You frowned. "Always," you said, and flashed her your best grin. Alexius came out below into the courtyard, leading your horse and his by the reins. "I must be off," you said, as the rays broke above the horizon. It turned her skin a golden brown once the light touched her, and again you plucked a kiss from her lips. "Have breakfast waiting for me," you said as you darted away, sword bouncing against your hip.
-
The ship was opened all along the belly, black timber opened up like a gutted fish, a gash that bled sea water. You came to a stop in the rocky sand, dismounting. Etienne had gathered the bodies with the help of some men-at-arms. The only one you knew by name was the grizzled Bayard One-Eye, who dumped a headless corpse next to the broken limbed body of a young boy. Twelve ead, none with a body whole, wrecked and severed limbs, ruined faces. They looked more the remains of a battlefield than a shipwreck. The youngest looked a boy of eight, the eldest a grizzled old man, face in tatters.

Etienne tapped a spurred foot as he oversaw the men plucking through the wreckage. He turned at your approach.

"Survivors?" you asked. He gestured off to the shade of a tree. There you saw a man bundled up under canvas, shivering and still wet. Long hair fell over a pale face, broad and bulging eyed, blue lips drawn back to show ratty teeth. You looked from the lone survivor back to Etienne and asked a second, less Christian question, "Treasure?"

He pursed his lips. "Some men have found something in the hold," he said, "They're bringing it out now."

And with that you saw two thick armed men draw a long, heavy black chest out from the depths of the ship, pulled from the belly like a child born cesarean. "There's more inside!" one of the men said with a huff, as they lowered it down at the feet of the dead men.

> question the survivor
> open the chest
> write-in

>>754036
> question the survivor

>>754036
> question the survivor

>>754036
>question the survivor

Homeport and their destination

>>754036
> question the survivor

>>754036
>> question the survivor

>>754115
We should probably burn the ship and the corpses when we are done.

You move over to the survivor. He lies shivering against the trunk of a withered tree, clinging to his canvas blanket. His eyes, which bulged naturally, bulged further in his pale, wet-slick face. He looked up at you with chattering teeth, large nose twitching above a brush of a black moustache. You were no expert on the Eastern people, but you thought he had the squat, broad features of a Slav, eyes narrowed at the ends like a Tartar. You knelt down so that your eyes were level.

"Who are you?" you said, squeezing life into his shoulder. You spoke in Greek. "What is your name, your home country?"

"O-Ordog," he said, then sneezed viciously. A yellow trail of snot ran over his mustache. He did not look well. "F-from Varna, on the Black Sea."

"You look like you need a meal, Ordog," you said, "Something hot and filling." He quirked a smile, nodding. "What brings you here. Where were you headed?"

"T-to Jerusalem, m-my master," his voice cracked and he buried his head in the blanket. He brought it out, his face composed. "My master wished to be buried in Jerusalem, it was his dying wish. W-we were meant to dock in Sidon, but the storm blew us off course. I'm told this is Ascalon."

"It is," you said.

Ordog's face lightened. "So you must be the one they speak of, the young knight Sir Wilhelm. My master heard your story and was moved to tears. 'How wasteful I was with my youth,' he said." You did not think yourself so famous, but it threatened to draw a smile from you. "My master was Sir Gregor, originally of Austria, but master of lands in Bulgaria. That is where we met. I am a Bulgar, you see, a pagan reformed to Christ. My master saved my soul." As if to prove his story he drew a crucifix out from around his neck, smiling dimly.

He was a wet, miserable creature, suddenly alight with hope.

Your attention turned back to your men, who drew three thick chests out from the belly of the ship, each small enough one strong man could carry it. They placed these next to the much larger chest.

> investigate the chests
> invite Ordog back to your castle
> write-in

>>754132
> investigate the chests
> invite Ordog back to your castle

Then after he has rested he can be on his way.

> write-in

Burn the ship and the corpses.

>>754132
> investigate the chests
> invite Ordog back to your castle

>>754152
I agree with burning the ship.

If his masters remains are present then send them on to the holy city.

Uh oh. Vampyre

>>754132
> investigate the chests

>>754207
His master is a doctor. A doctor named Acula.

>>754207
His name is Godro spelt backwards. It means "Fat" in latin

>>754208
>>754214
>>754218
If a fangy monster maybe he came to try and lift the curse?

You clap the man's shoulder again, pulling up to your feet. Alexius stared dumbly at the dead bodies, a finger in his mouth, while Bayard takes a knife to one of the locked chests. With a little work he popped the lock open, and pulled back the cover. It was a trove of amber, the glistening orange stones seeming to catch the light in their depths, shining through dark lines. A small fortune in amber, Bayard pulled a heap up in hand and let them drip back down into the chest with a clack. He whistled high, his one good eye gleaming.

The other two chests were open. One contained maps wrapped in greasy seal skin. The other held only one thing, a crown of blue metal. Etienne held it up to the light turning it this way and that, lips pursed as he considered it.

"What metal is that?" Bayard asked.

"None I know," Etienne said, putting it back down into the chest.

The last remaining was the long, black chest. Eteienne looked to you, giving you the right to open it. Ordog shuffled up, clutching his canvas blanket close. You went to the side and flung it open.

A corpse lay in velvet, the body of a tall, strong bodied knight. He looked fresh, his face full and pink, his drooping mustache dark. Dark curls fell out from beneath an iron nosed helm, and in maille'd hands he clutched the hilt of a fine steel sword that lay flat against a thick trunked body. He was dressed as if for war, and upon his breast sat an iron cross. From the peaceful look upon his face, eyes closed, he could have been sleeping.

So this was Sir Gregor, you assumed. He looked as if he had been a strong, handsome man in life. Ordog touched the boot of the dead knight with the tenderness of a treasured slave.

"If you'd like we can provide you a meal and shelter for the night, before sending you on to the Holy City," you said.

Ordog bowed his head with a snuffle. "You are as kind as they say you are courageous," he said, "Thank you."

Then you looked to Etienne. "Pack up the treasure, burn the bodies and the ship," you said.

"You will not give them a Christian burial?" Etienne's eyes widened with shock. These were not the bodies of pagans, to be thrown into the sea.

> fine, bury them
> do as I say

>>754259
> fine, bury them

>>754259
> do as I say

Dont want plague or something coming from this or something to that effect

>>754269
>>754259
Also we will naturally give the church a cut of the treasure.

>>754259
>A vampire

Hide you wives, hide yo sisters and your daughters

>>754259
> fine, bury them
do the rights twice and burn the ship... gives me the hibbie jibbies
bring the corpse of the master to the church have monks pray over him
>>754272
of course

>>754259
> fine, bury them

Our fellow brothers and sisters of Christ deserve this respect at least.

>>754331
>>754288
>>754263
I just know that this will fuck us over.

"Bury them if you must," you said, "But the ship burns." You turned. "Bayard, I need you and one other to help me take the body of Sir Gregor to the church. We will have the priest say some prayers over him." Ordog smiled widely at that, and as Bayard and another common soldier hefted up the casket, he followed in their wake like a dog at the heel of its master.

You mounted your horse with Alexius' aid. Etienne had a mule laden down with the chests. "See half that amber go with Sir Gregor to the Church," you told your seneschal. The knight nodded. "Now if you will excuse me, I have breakfast waiting."
-
You return to the long table set out, and a freshly smoked kipper waiting. Hosted on a silver platter with a side of roasted vegetables, it was a princely meal that made your mouth water. Sitting either side of your chair was Ioveta on the left, eating a thin soup drawn up with a crust of bread, and Chihirizahd on the right. Both rose at your return, a matching expression of relief. How gloriously blessed you were, beyond the luck of common men to have two beautiful women waiting for you.

Also at the long table was Solomon, who sat looking tired beside his wife and one of their tan babies squalling in her arms. Fatherhood had left him haggard, and more than once he'd threatened to disappear on a long expedition north, but still he stayed beside his dainty wife, occasionally taking one of his twins into his burly arms, to gurgle and coo at the little thing.

You took your seat, and took your knife, slicing fish meat from the side of the kipper, chewing it noisily as you awaited your guest.

Ordog came with shuffling step, and Ioveta at once leaned forward. "He's sick," she said. It was true, he looked on the verge of a fever. She looked to you. "He should be seen to at once." Again there was that suggestion in her voice, that she should be the one to care for him.

Ordog took a seat with the servants, smiling at a girl that handed him a bowl of pottage. He spooned the hot meal into his mouth with two fingers, pausing only to guzzle down a cup of offered small beer. He ate with a manic appetite. Perhaps the joy of having survived a disaster gave him a greater thirst, you well remembered feeling similarly in the past. Still, such lusty feasting could often make the sickness worse, or so you had read in an Avicenna tome.

> let Ioveta care for Ordog
> send him to Ibrahim
> let him heal without care
> write-in

>>754340
>Simulationists vs. Powergamers

>>754348
> send him to Ibrahim

Maybe question why the bodies are so mangled from this wreck

>>754348
> send him to Ibrahim

>>754348
> send him to Ibrahim

>>754348
> send him to Ibrahim

Oh our beautiful and beloved wife always so good and pious. But let Ibrahim take care of him for now.

>>754391
Iovetta is just asking to be mindcontrolled.

>>754340
>muh power gaming

Fuck off with that shit and do some Rp

this is non canon so it kind of doesn't matter

>>754348
> send him to Ibrahim

>>754375
It was must have been the rocks they were dashed against..,,,

"I think Ibrahim would provide better care," you said, your hand over hers. She sighed, but nodded, her face a subtle shade of unhappy. She had been developing these fits of melancholy lately, perhaps she was searching for a distraction from the memory of that painful day when she had bent over with a groan, and an hour later had lost the little thing that had been growing inside of her. You only count it lucky she had not been taken as well, and lay that at the feet of your Moslem physician, whose care had brought her back from the edge of eternity.

You have Alexius summon Ordog to your table, and the wretched looking man waddled up. He was stoop shouldered but broad, and when he straightened up you noted powerful muscle in his frame.

"You look on verge of a fever," you said, "I have in my employ a skilled and learned man, who will provide for you medicine and care."

"You honour me, your highness," he said with a bow.

You smiled for his good manners. "Go and see him. When you are on the road again I may ask you to carry a letter for my brother, who lives in the Holy City. Would you do this?"

"I would do more, I am in your debt," he said, flashing a smile that charmed through the ugliness of his face.

"Go," you bid, and Alexius lead Ordog off to the quarters of your Muslim physician, far from the body of the Christian men. For all your respect of Ibrahim, you knew many others in your castle had nothing but scorn for the Saracen, and such he was housed well away from the Christian soldiery. With that business done, you turned to your wife, offering her a cut of your fish. She ate it gingerly, chewing slow, her unhappy expression growing deeper.

What you would give to see her return to that easy smiling, happy girl you had wed.

"Wil," Chihirizahd took your attention. She had a troubled look of her own. "Don't let that man stay longer than a night," she said, "I beg you." There was real fear behind her eyes. It was more than unusual for her to frighten so casually, in fact you could not remember her ever appearing so spooked.

> what is wrong?
> you're being silly

>>754439
> what is wrong?

>>754439
> what is wrong?

>>754439
> what is wrong?

Chiri is usualy right about such things. Would be foolish not to take it seriously.

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>>754439
> what is wrong?

Raise an eyebrow

>>754439
> you're being silly
> literally all the advice you've ever given me has been silly
> you silly, silly girl, full of such silliness

Man, I can't wait to manage our city, ain't nothing gonna get in the way of that!

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>>754472
Yeah!!! Our city!

>>754472
Today is gonna be a great day. We gonna manage our city, sleep with our mistress (because a certain someone is not in the mood) and just live our life with nothing bad ever happening. Its great.

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>>754489
I mean, what could go wrong?

"What's wrong?" you said, turning to her more fully. Her suspicions had saved your life more than once, and if something troubled her now it would not be wise to ignore it.

But her answer was not distinct. It was a shrug of her shoulders and a frown. "I do not like that man, there is a stink about him. He has an ill intent."

"He survived a ship wreck, it's natural he should seem at odds," you said, but did not discount her words, "I cannot throw a man out after granting him hospitality on a hunch."

"I know that," she said, "So I ask only you watch him, and see him on the road as soon as possible."

"Of course," you had no cause doubt Chihirizahd, and every reason to trust her hunches. It was only a matter of balancing such things against proper manners that was the problem. If it were not for her you would not be here now. "Who do you think should watch him?" you asked.

As you spoke Etienne returned with his men-at-arms. Bayard joined his fellows at the common table, while Etienne climbed up to join you at the head table. He had behind him porters carrying the chests taken from the wreckage.

"I don't know," she said, "Perhaps I should take it upon myself." She sipped well watered wine, her eyes smokey and unreadable. Etienne made a polite cough, wanting your attention.

> nominate someone to keep an eye on Ordog

>>754524
>Bayard
Heheh, get it? get it? get it?

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>>754504
Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn

>>754524
Guess chiri would be the most ideal.

Give her a good dicking first though

>>754524
>Chiri
She likes being sneaky.

>>754524
>Alexius, the slow witted Greek boy

No one would suspect we sent an imbecile to spy on them, plus he's not valuable to us at all.

>>754524
>>754532
Though really, Bayard can maintain a constant vigil and an intimidating presence, I say we send him to watch the weird guy.

>>754524
>Chiri keep an eye on Ordog
>Bayard keep an eye on Chiri
>>754538
Well the dicking was a given.
>>754545
That is actually pretty smart.

>>754524
I thinks it's rather past time Chiri was retired from spying herself

Assign Alexius he's to stupid to be suspected

>>754555
>>754538
>>754524
Kinda a agree, changing to Alexius. And we should really let Chiri set up a spy network of some kind.

>>754564
I'll convert as well.

"I'll have my squire keep watch on him," you said.

Chihirizahd snorted. "Alexius is a sweet boy, but that's about all that can be said for him," she said, but she gave your arm a quick hug before returning to her meal. You made sure to instruct him once he had returned, and the boy nodded, slinking off to take care of this new duty.

Etienne awaited you, with the treasure. Half a chest of amber, a chest of books and maps, and the strange blue crown, still tucked away. The books had been written in a language you did not understand, nor did Etienne.

"What's to be done with the spoils?" Etienne asked.

> have someone investigate the maps (nominate)
> have someone investigate the crown (nominate)
> have them all put into the treasury for now

>>754601
> have them all put into the treasury for now
Lets put the necronomicon away for the moment.

>>754601
> have someone investigate the maps (nominate)

Maps are always good. Compare them to what we already have and make sure to copy them.

I am not really sure who we have that is qualified for it though. Etienne ?

> have someone investigate the crown

Ourselves.

>>754601
> have them all put into the treasury for now

>>754601
> have them all put into the treasury for now

We'll let the bishop take a look at them when he arrives to suck our dick for that half of the amber we donated.

>>754616
Desmond, Etienne, yourself, Ioveta, Etain and Chihirizahd all have the necessary education and intelligence to investigate

>>754601
> have someone investigate the crown (nominate)
> have them all put into the treasury for now

Investigate the crown ourselves and put the book in our library/study if we have built it by now

I am disappointed by the lack of benehilts HF

>>754630
Ibrahim could too, but he's busy with a patient.

>>754630
>Etain
>Intelligence

Learn something new about the potatoes everyday

>>754630
>>754616
Have Iovetta do it. Would take her mind off what is currently bothering and she get to feel like she is helping.

>>754651
This, wifey needs a distraction

We'll have investigate the crown ourselves and daydream about being king of Alexandria while looking at it

>>754671
>and daydream about being king of Alexandria while looking at it

That sounds good.

Alright, just to keep things moving I'll post another vote:

> have Ioveta investigate the books while you investigate the crown
> have them put in the treasury for now

>>754691
> have Ioveta investigate the books while you investigate the crown

>>754691
> have Ioveta investigate the books while you investigate the crown
Wait, are the books in Latin or Greek?

>>754691
> have Ioveta investigate the books while you investigate the crown

>>754691
> have Ioveta investigate the books while you investigate the crown

At least one wifey is gonna get hit with eldritch magics, might as well be the infertile one.

>>754701
>Wait, are the books in Latin or Greek?
As far as you can tell, neither. A closer read may reveal their secrets.

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>>754691
> have Ioveta investigate the books while you investigate the crown

I had collected many rare and elusive volumes on ancient herbal properties and was set to enjoy several weeks immersed in comfortable study. My work was interrupted, however, by a singularly striking young woman who insisted on repeated calls to the house.

>>754711
>Infertile

That's not Chiri anon

>Fuck Chiri while wearing the crown

>>754725
Tell that to Wilhelm the Third

>>754725
That's why I said lovetta should investigate the books?

>>754734
We just name the boy we get after that Wilhelm.

Not like it was weird to name your son after yourself or your father

>>754734
You can't have a miscarriage if you are infertile

>>754735
>Implying elderitch Magic c won't be in the books
>what is the necronomicon

>>754741
Too late, they have names, no one will replace the Wilhelm who never was.

>>754750
We dont even know if the child was going to be a boy or a girl

>>754741
>nameing your son after your father

I mean come on we could at least be pagan/romeaboo and name him Alexander or Augustus or hell Charlamange

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>>754748
I know, Eldrich Magic is in the books, that's why the wife who's already miscarrying should read them, we'll still have Chiri for heirs. What about this plan are you not getting?

>>754758
Wilhelmina, duhhhh

"We have puzzle here," you said to Ioveta, "A book written in some unknown tongue, perhaps a cipher. You read a number of languages, and have a head for logic."

"Well, more than you at least," she chided with a light in her eyes.

"Perhaps you can unravel this puzzle," you said. Etienne brought her one of the seal hide wrapped books. She pulled it out from the greasy wrapping, hands sliding across the leather bound cover, fingers trailing the crisp edge of the pages. She had a natural love for reading, you remembered that from when you'd very first met he, and to hold such a puzzle as this in her hand robbed the melancholy from her brow, brought a lightness to her bearing that you hadn't seen since your wedding night.

Already she had the book open and was scrutinizing the pages, wetting her lips with excitement.

"And the crown, my lord?" Etienne asked.

"I'll examine it," you said, holding out a hand. He took the blue metal crown from the box, and placed it in your palm. When you tried to take it, his grip stuck, pulling back. You looked up at Etienne, his eyes still on the blue crown. Then he blinked, released it, and bowed.

"Forgive me sir, I don't know what possessed me," he said, and he gripped the front of his tabard with a pained expression before stepping away.

The blue crown was oddly warm in your hand, and you turned it this way and that. You had a sudden urge to place it on your brow. Instead you set it on the table as you stood up. You walked without seeing, turning the crown over in your hands, walking up stone steps, barely concious of where you were going. When you looked up you were in your private study, books looming down around you, a shaft of light slicing through the arrow slit window.

You took a seat upon your heavy cushioned chair.

There was something about this crown...

> roll 1d100, average of three

>>754772
>we'll still have Chiri for heirs
Chihirizahd is barren.

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>754785

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>754785

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Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>754785
>The strength of men is about the fail boys, can we throw it in the fire?

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>754772
>Chiri
>Heirs

Anon I.......

>>754785
Hoo boy

>>754794
>>754799
>>754796
It is ours, it is precious to us......

my precioouuuusssssssss

File: Whatever.jpg (80 KB, 422x600)

80 KB JPG

>>754792
Well looks like I'm retarded, sorry anons.

>>754794
>>754799
>>754796
We King of Alexandria now

So Hugo's going full Van hellsing right?


Gotta smite that evil and all

>>754836
https://youtu.be/PEcc4E2Hf_4

Your hand curled around the metal like an eagle's claw, a sudden breathy excitement taking your body. With care you take the crown in both hands, placing it upon your brow. Your breathing came harder, a thrill running through you. You felt like a man about to bed a lover for the first time. Your body shook. What was this feeling of mania that had taken you?

The crown was light upon your brow, comfortable. It barely felt like metal at all. It conformed to the shape of your skull as if it was meant for it. It was meant for it! This was the crown of a king, and you were a king in waiting. You put a hand to your mouth as your breathing turned ragged, heavy pants of excitement. You walked to the arrow slit window, looked down on your city.

You had carved this from the flank of the Saracen. You would carve more. You would slice and swallow all of Egypt, and then turn your eyes north. You could take it all. Not just Saracen lands, but the lands of the Greeks as well, and even...dare you think it...even Jerusalem itself. It could be the beating heart of your empire. An empire ruled by you in the name of Christ.

You saw it all so easily taken, it made you ache, it made you-

"Wil!" you turned, Chihirizahd stood in the doorway, eyes wide, lips parted. How beautiful she was, standing framed in the door way, her braid a black snake about her neck, hanging across her full, high chest. You strained at the sight of her, chest swelling hungry for the feel of her body.

"Wil, what's wrong with you?" she said, stepping closer.

"I-" you choke on the words. Her direct question cut through your manic rapture, forced a new thought through your head. "What is wrong with me?" you asked, cupping her face in your hands, grinning down at her. Leering down at the part in her blouse, and the crease of her breasts within. "What is wrong with you," you said, voice filled with a harsh lust.

"You look mad," she said, her expression alarmed.

"I-" you touch the crown. You touch it, then grip it, and with small effort pull it from your head. At once the manic feeling is gone, and you collapse back into your chair. You heave a breath. You hold up the crown, a ring in your hands. "This," you said, "This is not normal."

"Lock it away," Chihirizahd says, dropping to her knees by your leg, imploring you.

"It's not so dangerous as that," you say, "I took it off easily enough."

"Wil," Chihirizahd's voice is a hush, "Look outside." You look to the window. No sun did stream through but the light of stars twinkled in the sky. "You've been locked away for hours," she said.

> have it locked away
> you know the danger now and can investigate it more safely
> write-in

>>754874
> have it locked away

>>754874
> you know the danger now and can investigate it more safely

She can keep us company, help us snap out of it if the worst should happen

>>754874
> have it locked away
>Send for a learned man from the Vatican, this artifact reeks of the pride that marked the morning star.

>>754874
> Eh, throw it out a window, someone else's problem.

>>754874
IT IS MINE! It is my treasured precious

>>754891
My precious.....

>>754885
This. This is some bad shit, right here. We also need to check on our wife.

>>754942
Pfff. Its ours. It came to us. That greedy priest would just take it from us!

>>754942
The Vatican? The pope lust for lands and rights not his by mortal or heavenly right, grants indulgences to men balding and fat, with more wisdom than god given sense for enough coin to drown a kingdom in

This is a small thing worth little, It is ours by right of salvage

"You're right," you say, throwing it down onto your desk, "We'll have it locked away. And we will send for some wise man of the Church to look into it. I fear my sin is too great to resist this thing and its temptations."

She smiled with relieved pride, then bowed her head. "Thank you," she said, and you ran a hand across her head. You climbed out of your chair. You were hesitant to touch the thing again, but reluctantly took it up. With Chihrizahd for company you took it down to your treasury, the subterranean hold. When first you had captured Ascalon the treasure room had been fit to bursting with all manner of wealth, now it was no longer so richly endowed. The rebuilding of scorched homes and the raising of churches from former mosques had put a heavy dent into your captured wealth, and the day-to-day expenses of rulership deducted them further, but trade saw it floating at a medium hold of coin and precious gifts.

You placed the crown in the furthest depths of the hold, tucked behind a Saracen tapestry. You wondered as to what gave it such unnatural properties, but shook your head. For now such things were beyond you. You looked to Chihirizahd and yet again felt a pride and love for her. How glad you were to have rescued her from that Saracen brothel years ago, what a treasure she had become, worth more than any other in this treasure room.

She held up a silver necklace set with a large green emerald, feeling the chain links slippery between her fingers, admiring the cat of the stone with a gentle fascination.

"Here," you said. She held the silver necklace out and you unhooked it. You linked it around her neck, the silver set emerald falling between the curve of her breasts. It looked good on her, in fact you wished to see her clad in nothing else. But that was for another time.

"Thank you, master," she said, with a naive girl's blush.

"Let's get out of this hold," you said, and back to people - you thought.

You climbed the stairs to be met half way by Bayard, panting hard.

"My lord, the church is on fire!" he said, eye full of panic. A bolt of fear ran through you.

> head to the church at once
> send someone else to deal with the blaze (nominate)

>>754961
> head to the church at once

>>754961
>> head to the church at once
>> Chiri, check on Loveta at once

>>754961
>>754978
Probably a good idea to have her check on the wife.

95% sure she is the one who did the fire

>>754961
> head to the church at once

MY AMBER!


ETIENNE! coordinate the fighting of the fire

>>754980
Litreally no reason as to suspect as such she is only reading so as to distract herself

of course she did but in character we have no reason to believe this

>>754978
>> head to the church at once
This. We need some help with all of this. Chiri is probably best to keep her eye on Iovetta.

>>754961
> head to the church at once

"Check on Ioveta, I'm needed," you said to Chihirizahd.

She nodded. "Of course," and lifting her skirts she ran for the women's solar. You followed Bayard out into the courtyard, where other men had assembled. Etienne was snapping orders from horseback. The men were rushing from the well with pitchers full of water. Etienne looked to you, gesturing to the city beyond. You saw the glow of the fire above your walls, and with Bayard at your heel raced out into the street.

It was lit up like a bonfire, the timber crackling as the fire ate through it, the flames climbing up around the raised cross that topped its domed roof. Common folk wailed in alarm, dancing around in a panic. With sharp words you brought sense to some of them, sending veiled women to the wells to draw water, as your own men raised down. It was as much a task of wetting the neighbours to keep the flames from spreading as it was about dousing the church itself.

With an awful crunch the roof collapsed inward, the cross dropping into the hellish blaze, lost forever.

Out from the church burst a monk screaming, wreathed in flames, the cloth of his robes alight, too heavy to pull of his body. The scream from his throat was an alien sound of hysterical wailing, a near comic image of the monk impotently slapping at the flames that embraced him. The monk collapsed at last and you stepped past the body, launching a bucketful of water onto the burning mouth of the church.

"Christ have mercy," you turned to see your personal confessor approach. Father Desmond's quarters were in your private chapel, at hand to tend the people of the keep. His face was awash with horror. Slowly, after hours of working together, the flames died, no other building was taken by the fire. What was left of the church was a gutted mess.

"It was the Jews!" someone yelled.

"The Muslims," another countered.

"It was an accident," Bayard snapped at them all. Now was not the time for infighting.

You looked on the collapsed mess. The burned figures of human beings lay in the blackened frame of the church, charred to match the bodies, unnaturally blackened and raw with embers still glowing in the depths of their forms. Desmond raised his robes to pick his way through the mess.

"What awfulness," he said for his brothers in Christ, contorted in agony.

You bent to touch an iron cross, twisted at the ends, but drew back, fingers scolded. You sucked the numb tips of your finger. That had been the cross worn by Sir Gregor. It seems he would not receive his Jerusalem burial after all.

You clapped Desmond on the shoulder, who had eyes tearing over. He turned and you took him in an embrace, clapping his back. Then you parted with a weary step, and walked back up toward your castle.

Waiting by the gate was Ordog, looking anxious, behind him Alexius.

"My master," he said.

"Gone with the flames," you replied. Ordog's mouth opened, which he soon stuffed with his knuckles, choking on a sob. He looked as if his master had died all over again.

You found Chihirizahd standing by the stairwell, a look of grave alarm on her face. "Come quick," she said, taking you by he arm. Fear spiked your chest. She did not speak, just led you up to your bed chambers. Ioveta lay upon it, dressed in her white shift. "I found her like this. She sleeps," Chihirizahd said, and this where the fear came through her voice, "But she does not wake, no matter how I touch her."

Your heart stopped in your chest. You stood looking down on your wife, her fine bone features wreathed in her honey-gold hair, slumbering as she had this morning. This was not a natural sleep.

> send for Father Desmond
> send for Ibrahim
> have Chihirizahd care for her
> write-in

>>755108
> send for Ibrahim

>>755108
>Send for both and try to wake her ourselves

Its our damn wife!

>>755108
>> send for Father Desmond
>> send for Ibrahim

The prowess of our moslem doctor is to be respected, but the ministrations of the lord are not to be neglected either.

>>755108
>Scream into pillow shaped object like a sack of barley
>"I'm fine, I'm fine."

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226 KB PNG

She is in a coma you say ?

"Send for Father Desmond and Ibrahim," you said, your voice a rush as you sat upon the bedside. You touched her calf, feeling the tight muscle there. You did not notice Chihirizahd leave. You trailed fingers up her calf, circling her knee. "'Vetta," you said, hoping to wake her. "Yvet'," shortening her name the other way. Not a stir or a mumble, the way she was prone to do. Your hands found her shoulders, and you pulled her up into your arms. You buried your face in her hair and choked into her ear 'Judith'

Still nothing. She was as a corpse save the gentle breath you felt upon your neck, the rise and fall of her chest against yours. You lay her down, the world turned into a watery mosaic as you fought the tears in your eyes.

Ibrahim and Desmond arrived together. Ibrahim, old, dark, bent like a desert tree, shuffled you away from her side. He at once had his hands upon her, groping and squeezing her flesh. Any other man would have lost his hand, but you knew Ibrahim, and all his touching had the rough handling of an experienced craftsman. Desmond made the sign of the cross, his rosary in hand.

Ibrahim stepped back, his face contorted. Then he did something you did not expect, and pulled her shift up to her hips, exposing her bottom half to the world.

Ibrahim's hiss was as sharp as an arrow loosed. There upon her uppermost inner thigh, were two bloody red holes.

"What is that?" you said, "Is it some snake or spider bite, is she envenomed?"

Ibrahim looked to you. "I have seen this once before, in my boyhood in Damascus," he said, "The son and daughter of an emir were so bitten. By the end of the night, they were dead."

"What is it?" you asked again, wishing to shake answers from the man.

"A dreadful creature that stalks human prey," he said, "Your wife has been so claimed by it. By morning she will rise as one of them."

"What nonsense," Desmond scoffed, but his eyes were not so skeptical.

"What do you mean?" you said.

"It is one that lives off the blood of the living, a master of the night," Ibrahim looked to the arrow slit window, to the harvest moon outside it, "A battle is being waged as we speak, and it is a battle she is doomed to lose. Do not be fooled by her peaceful slumber, a darkness is overrunning her soul." You knew Ibrahim was not superstitious, and was not a liar. You knew this was true to the best of his knowledge.

"Insanity," Desmond said.

"What can I do?" you said.

"Cut her head off, and tear out her heart," he said. You stepped back, dizzy, your whole world ripped out from beneath you.

> never
> alright
> Desmond, what do you think?

>>755221
> never

Cure her NOW

>>755221
> never

>>755221
>never

We've got to run through the Dracula narrative a little bit before we can go full crusader I think.

>>755221
> never

Maybe have Chiri go through Iovettas notes to check on what she has found ?

"Never," you reply, your face a mask of rage.

Ibrahim sighs. "You endanger us all," he said, "But perhaps there is another way, a way to save your wife. Slay the beast that has done this to her, and feed her its ashes. That may save her soul."

"I shall pray for her," Desmond said, but you did not listen, your attention was on Ibrahim.

"And how can I find this beast?" you asked.

Chihirizahd coughed. You looked over at her. "Is it not obvious?" she said, "That man, Ordog. He is the creature."

It was a good guess, you thought, and surely it was all you had to go on. It was strange that he alone should survive such a terrible shipwreck.

"How can I know it is him?" you asked Ibrahim. To this, Ibrahim shrugged.

"I don't know," he said, "We did not catch the monster in Damascus. The emir slaughtered his children, then took a new wife and fathered a new heir. The beast did not return, not to my knowledge."

"I have to try," you said, pressing your fist to your lips.

> send someone to apprehend Ordog (nominate)

>>755305
Etienne with a squadron of guards

>>755305
>Wilhelm, Lord of Ascalon
And Etienne as well I guess.

>>755319
Seconded
>We shall sweep the servants darkness form our lands personally once again.

"I'll find him myself," you said, slapping a hand to your sword hilt. You looked to your concubine. "Take care of Ioveta," you say, "Have a look at what she was reading. Maybe you can figure something else out." She nodded. Then reached up and kissed you light on the lips.

"Kill this monster," she said, fire in her eyes.

You look back to your wife upon the bed. You wished Hugo was here with you, your brother's sword by your side. You wanted many things, for now you would work with what you had. You summoned Etienne, and with him came Solomon. The big warrior, with beard grown out, look like a stuck black bear the way he scowled at everything.

"We're searching for someone, that Bulgar, Ordog," you said, "He is not what he seems. He has laid hands upon my wife. I mean to kill him."

Etienne nodded, Solomon grunted his approval.

"I want men-at-arms on high alert, sweeping every nook and cranny," you said, "Etienne, you're with me." He gave a sharp salute.

"What about me?" Solomon asked, baring an inch of his shotel blade, his body twitching with a violent energy.

> guard my home, Solomon
> come with me too

>>755401
> guard my home, Solomon

Someone need to look after the girls

>>755401
>> guard my home, Solomon

>>755401
> guard my home, Solomon

>>755401
> guard my home, Solomon

We'll leave the girls and the men of learning safeguarded by good violent hands.

"Take care of our people, Solomon," you said, taking his arm in a firm grasp, "You're the only one I can trust to protect them."

"Aye brother," he said, pushing his brow against yours. When you released his grip he walked toward your bedchamber, shotel snicking from its scabbard, cutting the wind in low arcs in front of him. "None will cross your threshold while I live."

You grinned at the sight of his broad, muscular back. Then turned back to Etienne, who had a face of cold duty.

"Where do we search first?" he asked, hand upon the hilt of his sword.

> the treasure room
> the castle grounds
> the rooftops

>>755432
> the treasure room

>>755432
> the treasure room

"oh shit the crown!"

>>755432
> the treasure room

The men will search the grounds, I fear this Bulgar will make for the crown.

"Have the men sweep the grounds," you said.

"And us?" Etienne asked. You knew immediately where you must go.

The treasure room. The crown! You started downward with quick step, a nervous fidget in your hand. Where you going to the treasure room to find this beast, or simply to make sure your crown had not been taken? 'Your crown', the thought had been reflexive. You shook the thought from your head, now was not the time to be caught up on such things. Once you reached the door to your treasury, Etienne stopped you with a raised hand.

"I'll go first," he said.

"Why?" you ask, suspicion alive in you. He gave you an incredulous look.

"To safeguard you," he said, voice rung with offence. You nodded, biting back on your bitter thoughts.

The two of you entered the treasury, Etienne first, you second.

It looked much as you had left it, you saw no sign of Ordog. He had not come here yet. You breathed a sigh of relief. For some reason you knew that if he had the crown he would be a terror beyond mortal ken.

Perhaps...perhaps you should take the crown with you, make sure it was safe and beyond the Bulgar's clutches.

> take the crown
> leave it

>>755489
> take the crown

That way, he cannot steal it away, keep it on our person.

Who know what kind of monster he would become if he got hand on our crown.

>>755489
> leave it

He knows not where we hid it, and to bring it with us is to invite our own ruin.

>>755489
> leave it

>>755502
But we were seen bringing with us to the vault. Guards and maids talk. We cannot take that risk to take what is ours.

>>755489
>leave it

remember kids, say no to magic drug crowns.

>>755540
Its not a drug. It is our right. It is what shall wear when all the people of all the nations of the world bow to us!

You decide it would be best not to take the crown. You did not want to risk it turning your mind at the wrong moment, when every hour before dawn counted.

"He isn't here," you said to Etienne, who murmured his reply. Where else could he be?

> check the grounds
> check the roof
> begin a search of the city

>>755560
> check the roof

>>755560
> check the roof

>>755560
> check the roof

Im just happy to see you run again HF. Been greatly enjoying it.

>>755560
>> check the roof

You decide to check the rooftops of the citadel. Through a winding staircase you climb up a tower, that brings you out into the cold night air. The stars above shine down, a black cloth set with little diamonds, the harvest moon heavy in the sky. A cold wind cut across the roof, strong enough it caused your tabard to flutter. You looked over the roof of the castle, its arching roof, its many towers rising up out of it. Perhaps he had fled up here, to hide out until morning.

With Etienne's help you slid down from the tower and onto the roof itself, reaching up, you helped your seneschal down as well. With careful step you walked across the roof. Between the light of the stars and the light of the moon, it was a night with unusual brightness, so strong it gave Etienne's skin a soft glow.

The two of you stumbled across to the centre of the castle roof, searching with your ears as much as your eyes. You could hear your men searching below, heard Bayard's voice calling orders. He was a good man, Bayard, and would make a fine master-at-arms in time.

You paused at the sound of a soft scritch-scritch-scritch. Turned your head to look down the roof far, from you, to the shadow of a tower, standing tall.

You motion to Etienne and he draws his sword, stepping toward it.

> roll 1d100, best of three

Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>755663

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>755663

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>755663

>>755679
>>755677
>>755665

Its as if you were never gone HF.

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>755663

>>755665
Dammit Wil, it's like you've never fought on a roof before.

>>755681
Just another day in CQ

Bit sad though. Would wish we played a bit with the crown. Would love to see Mega-Wilhelm without any restraints.

Isnt Mathilde in the castle as well ?

Oh good god. If she is.

The light of the moon revealed it to you. A shape, at first it seemed a writhing, messy shape. Then your eyes adjusted, and you saw it was two people embraced, one enfolding the other from behind, mouth pressed to his neck. And your eyes sharpened further, and you saw the face of Alexius, mouth hanging open, held aloft in that powerful embrace, legs twitching scant inches above the stone, eyes half closed.

What held him was tall, too big to be a man but of a man shape, long, dark haired arms wrapped around Alexius' arms and waist, holding him aloft, holding up his neck to the creature's waiting mouth.

The mouth upon Alexius' neck chewed hungrily, the flash of leopard fangs tearing through flesh, a long red tongue slurping down the flowing blood. Eyes closed in the rapture of the feeding, the beast all but cradled Alexius in his arms.

"God in heaven," Etienne said, voice a horrified whisper.

The feeding stopped, the beast looked up from its meal. It's mouth became a bloody crescent moon upon its face, red gore dripping down its chin, dying its mustache a deep wine red. Alexius slid from its arms and hit the ground with a heavy thud, the last of his life-blood leaking out onto the stone.

"Wilhelm," it said, voice rich and deep. It was a merry voice, calling out to a long absent friend.

"You aren't Ordog," you said.

"Indeed, I am not, but we have met. In a fashion," he said.

"Sir Gregor, but you burned."

"A ruse, to distract, to give me time with your beautiful wife," he said, "She was sweeter than summer wine. I hope to do as you did, and sample all her sisters. Perhaps make them my brides." How did he know that? How did he know about your affairs with the Rethel sisters. "The crown, my friend!" his voice carried a chuckle, "While I slept and while you wore it, your mind was open to me. You are a man after my own black heart. I admire you Wil, can I call you Wil?" he shook his head, "It matters not. Like two proud lions, we cannot suffer a rival to live. I like you Wil, which is why you must die."

And then with a speed a thing so big shouldn't possibly have, he lunged forward, a blade filling his hand, flying for your face.

The clash of steel rang out. Etienne grit his teeth, holding Sir Gregor's blade at bay. Sir Gregor looked at him as if he were a bug intruding on a picnic.

"Run my lord," Etienne said, "Run!" Etienne thrust his blade toward Gregor's face. The big man, the creature, moved around the blade with liquid grace, and stabbed forward with his free hand. Blood splashed across your chest, as Gregor's fingers burst through Etienne's chest and out his back. The man gurgled as blood flowed from his mouth, but some how managed to swing his sword once more ar Gregor's head.

It clanged harmlessly off Gregor's cheek.

> roll 1d100, best of three

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>755750

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>755750
I'm happy this isn't canon.

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>755663

>>755766
I shouldn't have said that.

>>755766
>1

So am i, so am i.

>>755713
Mathilde is in Jerusalem with Hugo and Sabeen as part of Melisende's court.

To be clear, he didn't have sex with Ioveta.

>>755776
Phew. I can just imagine what kind of monster she could become if she got her hands on that crown or the books.

>>755766
Fugg

>>755780
I figured that much. But when it comes to blood sucking i dont think it is that different to a vampire.

You ran as fast as you can, back the way you came, but you can hear the beast loping after you. A look over your shoulder and you saw Gregor bounding after you on all fours, blood flying from his laughing mouth. "Don't run, don't run!" he called with mocking friendliness.

You ran to the edge of the rooftop, and stopped short. Beneath you was the roof of the stables. You looked back once more, he was gaining quickly. You looked back below and swallowed your instinctive terror.

And then stepped out into the night, dropping like a stone to the stable roof below.

You hit the roof and feel a sharp, numbing jolt up your left leg, letting out a hard 'fuck!' as you tipped over, clutching at your chin.

The bright face of Gregor looked down over the roof's edge, gore-stained smile visible. You crawled to the edge of the stable, rolled off, dropping down to the ground on your side. The wind blew out of you. None the less you pulled yourself to your feet, ignoring the pain lancing up your left leg or shooting across your ribs every time you drew breath. You limped across the arming yard.

Could you even kill this beast? If you could not, there was no saving Ioveta, she would be damned. And this creature, your back prickled, knowing its eyes were upon you. It could drop out of the night and murder you where you stood, limping away from it like wounded prey.

No, not like wounded prey. You were wounded prey. So why did he not strike? You made it to the door of a guard house, pushed your way into a warm room, with men-at-arms at rest at the table. You recognized one as Tancred's bid son, Odo, who had a serving girl on his lap.

"Jesu," he said, shooting out of his chair, the serving girl stumbling away from him.

"Arm yourselves!" you said, "It's coming." And you drew your Damascus sword. Odo took an axe and shield in hand, and the others grabbed spears.

"What's happening my lord?" he asked.

"A monster," you said. Disbelieving glances were shared.

There was a hammering on the door behind you. You turned, fear a pulse in your neck.

"My lord," Bayard's voice, "We found the wretch!"

Odo started forward but you stopped him. It could be a trap.

"Is that really you Bayard?" you said.

There was a moment's silence. "Who the fuck else would I be my lord, pardon the language." It seemed like him.

> open the door
> leave it closed

>>755812
Some kind of proof is needed.

>>755812
> leave it closed
How would Bayard know to find us in the guard house?

>>755819
Good point.
> leave it closed
>>755812

> leave it closed

Nice try

>>755812
>> open the door
Curiosity killing cats, etc.

>>755812
> open the door
Keep your eye on the ball y'all

"How did you know to find me here?" you said, a nervous giggle starting in your chest. Did he think you a moron?

"I saw you enter from across the way," he said, "And came after you as quickly as I could. We've been looking for you for half-an-hour. The wretch was hiding in the chapel, muttering some strange prayer."

"I need proof, proof that it is you, Bayard," you said.

Silence, then. "I lost my eye helping your brat of a sister deal with Assassins," he said, "And would've been killed if she hadn't stood over me, holding them at bay until Ol' Tancred and Sol came and saved our arses. Proof enough for you?"

That...was the story as you understood it. But still, Gregor had seen into your mind. He may have known that. Could he know that?

> take a chance and open the door
> leave it closed

>>755837
> leave it closed

The real Bayard would never refer to our sister as a brat to us.

>>755837
> "If you lost your eye then how did you see me?"

>>755837
> leave it closed
Bayard wouldn't call Matty a brat would he?
I don't know anymore.

>>755837
Something something personal inflection about Mathilde

If he answers with something of a personal inflicteon we know to be true open it, otherwise leave it closed

The night is full of devilry

>>755837
> leave it closed

>>755837
> You don't even call Matty "Bratty"? Laaaammme. You can rot out there.

>>755837
>> take a chance and open the door

>>755837
> leave it closed

As others have said he'd never refer to her as a brat to us, he's always had that level of professionalism in that regard

>>755866
Aye. It would be something Bayard thinks and say/joke to Matty in private but not like this.

"The real Bayard would never call my sister a brat, not to my face," you said.

His reply was a muttered - 'oh for fuck's sake' before he said, "Shall I fetch Sir Etienne or Father Desmond then? Ah, no need. Sir Etienne's coming now. Sir, could you speak some sense into our lord? Sir?"

An awful moan rolled across the night.

"Christ, you're covered in blood," Bayard's voice was a gasp of horror, "I'll fetch Ibrahim, just wait here."

Another awful moan. "Just, just wait here Sir Etienne. M'lord, I'm going to fetch Ibrahim, Sir Etienne's been hurt!"

> open the door
> leave it closed
> write-in

>>755877
> open the door
> get on the floor

>>755877
> leave it closed

Impossible. We saw him fall a entire fist was punch through his chainmailed chest.

>>755877
> "AHA! That was a test! Behind a door, we're not talking face-to-face, so you'd be free to call my sister a brat all you like even though I'm not sure how bratwurst figures into this"

> leave it closed

Pretty impressive for him to get down here from the roof with that hole im his chest

>>755877
Let me get this straight Etienne stumbled
from the roof to this specific guard tower with a fist sized hole in his chest unassisted?

Devil if you wish to be my equal you will have to try harder

>>755877
I feel like a guardhouse should have a way to look into the courtyard it's guarding.

>>755912
A guardhouse is just where the guards stay/sleep rather that a place that guards something

You laugh, hard and loud. Your men stare at you.

"You really think I'm a fool, don't you Gregor?" you said.

"Who is Gregor?" Odo asked. You ignored him.

"You'll have to try better than that!"

There was a thump on the door, hard enough the hinge creaked forward. A pause, then another. A pause hen one more, hard still. Something was ramming itself against the door. You looked to your men, who seemed bewildered by all this. You couldn't remain here much longer. The door thumped again, the wood creaking. A few more and it would give. There was an exit onto the wall above, it was the only way out except the door in front of you.

Staying here, even if the door held, was wasting Ioveta's life.

You went to an arrow slit to look outside, but the vision was so narrow you saw little in the dark. Something stumbled backward, Etienne, his chest open, his face slack. He took a staggering run forward and you heard the slam against the door, the frame buckle. You saw no sign of Bayard, or of Gregor.

> get to the walls
> wait here, see what happens

>>755921
> get to the walls
Wil is obviously not sure how to beat an enemy he can't stab or persuade.

>>755921
> get to the walls

>>755921
>> get to the walls

> get to the walls

>>755921
>> get to the walls

Grab a torch

"We have to get out of here," you told your men, the serving girl. You limped up the wooden stairs, to the entry way above, "Staying here is death." You snarled through the pain. With Odo behind you and the others behind him, you pushed open the door, stepping out into the chilly Autumn night. You looked down from the gantry to see Etienne's corpse battering itself against the guard house door. Etienne was alone.

Where then was the source of Bayard's voice?

Your answer was in the shriek of the serving girl behind you. You turned in time to see a large hand grip her by the back of her blouse, and pull her up overhead, onto the top of the tower and out of sight above. Her scream tore through your ear drums, the sound grew worse when the scream was strangled off, turned into a discordant pipe of high pitched, strangled noises.

"Chloe," Odo looked up into the dark like he had caught a glimpse of hell.

"She's dead," you said, "Keep moving." You ran toward the far stairs, a limping, hopping run. Bloody laughter followed your steps.

"I'll have you yet, Wilhelm, but before I do, I'll leave you a lord of the dead!" Gregor's voice chased you into the far tower, an echo of it in your ears. You needed to get back into the castle, hope that Chihirizahd, or someone else, had discovered some secret to defeating this beast.

You limped down the stairs into an empty guard house. Looking out, you saw an empty yard leading to the entry hall of the castle. It was a killing field. You looked back to see the men-at-arms staring anxiously out into the night.

> have them stay to hold off Gregor
> have them come with you into the keep

>>755954
> have them come with you into the keep

>>755954
>> have them come with you into the keep

Engage the Wilhelm engine of Ambition! All are disposable in the pursuit of our goal! Save family and loved ones

>>755954
> have them come with you into the keep
This is a very spooky halloween.

>>755965
This all ends with Wilhelm being woken up by Judith tell him that she cant sleep because of a nightmare

"On me," you told your men. They nodded, and as one you burst from the guard house, running toward the castle, the night air wiping around you, lungs burning with pain, left leg throbbing so awfully you could almost choke.

Odo's legs carried him ahead, while the others followed behind you.

> roll 1d100, best of three

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>755973

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>755973

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>755973

File: 90BD6301-282B-4A2E-B86D-9(...).jpg (113 KB, 1040x683)

113 KB JPG

>>755979

>>755975
>>755979
Am i in the right quest ?

>>755982
Yes, yes i am.

>>755986
Don't worry, it's best of three, today our lucky number is (ninety)7!

You run, and as you run you feel something large and heavy glide overhead. It hit the dirt in front of you, a great winged bat thing with Gregor's laughing face centred on it. He came forward with a lip smacking growl, but before you could reverse your step, there was a snap of a bowstring, and Gregor reared back, a scream bursting from his lips. Behind him, standing in the light of the hallway, stood Portia the Falconer, the white haired girl you knew to be a spy. She wore a page boy's clothes and a sly smile. As well, she wore a quiver of arrows at her hip, held a bow in hand.

She notched a second, silver tipped arrow.

"You best keep running my lord," she said, following Gregor's thrashing movements. With the men-at-arms you barrelled into the hallways, Portia snapping off another arrow into Gregor's rolling, heaving, screaming form. She stepped back promptly as Odo slammed the doors shut, his friends throwing up the heavy bar that would keep it shut. She sighed, looked up at you and winked. "Looks like it's your lucky day, my lord," she said.

You'd not had much to do with Portia, but now you could kiss her.

"Chihirizahd sent me to fetch you," she said, "She says she's discovered a trick to defeating this beast."

"I think you have a trick or two of your own," you said.

She snorted. "These? They'll be a real kick in his balls, but they won't kill him. No one's yet figured out a sure way to do that yet, and believe me, we've been working to figure it out. Though it sounds like the lady of the house might have figured out something we missed." You recalled who her true master was, Prince Manuel of the Roman-Greeks. She slung the bow across her shoulders and lead you and the men back to your private chamber, where Chihirzahd studied and Ioveta was gripped in her unholy sleep.

"What of Bayard and the others?" you asked.

"Still searching for Ordog, they've taken to combing the city," she said. The men-at-arms stopped outside your doorway, as did Portia. "We'll keep an eye out here," she said. The girl barely reached your chest, but after what she'd done to Gregor already, she felt a better shield than even Solomon. You nodded, and slipped inside.

Solomon sat with his woman by the bedside, their children playing at their feet. Solomon's eyes looked heavy in his skull. Ibrahim slept in an empty chair, covered y a blanket, while Desmnd paced before the thin window. They all looked up at your entry save Ibrahim, who continued to snore softly.

The sight of your wife still lying motionless gripped your heart in a vice, but you forced your attention to Chihirizahd. She came up to you, eyes wide with worry, her hands checking you for injury, skirting around your broken ribs and fractured shin. She saw you seated in the chair she'd just occupied.

"It killed Etienne and Alexius," you said, "How do I kill it?"

"This book is written in a Persian cipher," she said, gesturing to the journal, "An older form of Persian as well, but I think I've deciphered a passage. I think it says these beasts can be killed by a blade of 'true steel'. And I think that true steel is-"

"Damascus," you said, hand falling to the sword at your hip, "But I'm in no fit state for a sword fight."

"Give it to me and I'll do the deed," Solomon said, rising from the bedside. If any mortal man could defeat such a creature, it was Solomon. Still, as talented as he was, he was still just a man.

> let Solomon fight Gregor
> no, you couldn't risk it
> write-in

>>756004
> let Solomon fight Gregor

Give him our sword. He is the best fighter we have and we are in no position to fight ourselves.

>>756004
>>756007
Ofcourse we could use ourself as a distraction to lure Gregor and then Solomon strikes.

>>756004
> let Solomon fight Gregor

>>756004
> let Solomon fight Gregor

We and Portia will help

>>756004
> write-in

Solomon shall deal the killing blow while we act as the distraction engaging him with a kingly sword

Wilhelm uses himself as a lure. Portia will shoot at Gregor holding him distracted so that Solomon can get a clean strike in.

Remember to kiss both wives goodbye before going.

black guy dies

You unbuckle your sword belt and hand it to Solomon.

"Don't-" Etain starts, rising with him. He silences her with a kiss, and she falls back, face flushed.

"You won't be going alone," you said, "I'll go with you, with Portia and her silver arrows. We have to fight smart. This is not some Bedouin out of the desert, this is a dog spawned from hell."

"I know," Solomon took the sword, drew it from its sheathe. The water-patterned steel looked alive in his hand. "I long to kill the unkillable," he said with a smirk. You grin, and strike a fist against his chest.

Before you leave, you crouch beside Ioveta's sleeping form. You kiss her n the cheek. "I'll save you," you whisper into her ear, kissing her again. She did not stir, she barely seemed to breath. You almost wept. As you staggered to the doorway, you stopped by Chihirizahd. You took her by the shoulders, and kissed her deep, mouths melding, tongues drawing deep. A wet, messy, live desperate kiss. She wanted you to live, you didn't want to die.

"Come back to me," she said, tears in her eyes and fingers through your belt.

"I will," you promised.

Outside you met Portia. To Odo and the others you ordered, "Guard this door with your life."

To face Gregor you must either go outside into the courtyard, or let him in. The choice is yours.

> go outside
> fight him in the castle

I have to take off for a bit, be back in around an hour

>>756022
> fight him in the castle

He wont be able to fly and there is a greater chance for Solomon and Portia to hide and take him by suprise.

>>756022
> fight him in the castle
>"TOO CRAVEN TO FIGHT ME IN MY CASTLE, EH??? BWOK, BWOK BWOK BWOOOOOK!"

>>756022
The beast is monstrously strong and prowls the night like a devil

I don't know what is more dangerous here

>>756022
>fight him in the castle

I wonder what Iovetta would had seen if she had worn that crown.

>>756043
Children, a crown, Wils ambition forfilled, Chiri dead

What?

>>756022
>> fight him in the castle

We should probably arm ourselves with a normal sword so it doesnt seem supicious.

>>756051
Exactly what I've been saying

"We let him into the castle," you said, "In an enclosed space, in the corridors, he has less room to move, cutting down his advantage."

"Aye," Solomon said, testing the edge of the sword. A bead of blood rose from his thumb, which he wiped off on his shirt. Portia stretched her back, down to touch her toes, then high overhead, back forth.

"Ready when you are," she said, taking up her bow.

You took up an arming sword, turning the hilt around in your hand. You were nervous, this was an enemy unlike any you had faced before, and he'd nearly killed you once already. The three of you walked to the welcoming hall. It was quiet in the castle, quiet like a throb in your neck. Goosebumps were raised on your arms. You stood in the middle of the hall, gesturing for Solomon to lower the beam.

Portia climbed up a column with a monkey's speed, finding herself a nest on the beam overhead. She gave you a thumb's up from overhead, flashing down a smile. Then, she notched an arrow.

You turned the blade around in your hand.

"Let him in," you said, and Solomon pulled off the beam.

The wide double door burst inward, letting in a lashing cold wind.

And Gregor stepped in.

> roll 1d100, best of three

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>756055

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>756055
Pray to god

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>756055

>>756061
Holy mother of god!!!

File: IMG_0332.jpg (97 KB, 651x708)

97 KB JPG

>>756061

>>756061

Well shit.

Solomon saves the day. Again.

Christ in heaven. I am happy we got him when we first started this quest

>>756061

DEUS VULT