Bladebound Retainer Quest #4

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[STATS]
>Combat: +++
>Social: +
>Knowledge: ++

[Traits/Perks]
>Indomitable, Rank 1: Ignore the penalties imposed by Blood Loss. Does not negate health loss.
>Atelier of Death: Craft your own Bombs and Poisons
>Nimble Fingers: +30 to non-attack actions involving your hands (lockpicking, pickpocketing, etc.).
>Nobility (Aderaveth): Take a flat 50 to Knowledge rolls concerning this subject.

Ser Palme was quick to find you the day after your “spar” with Silverow, quite literally taking great strides across the palace to reach you. A rider had come in the night, bearing a message from Prince Emeron and his sworn company of Silver Knights. The campaign against the bandits plaguing the lands of the Pullman Vale had been met with success, and the expeditionary force was already on its way back west to the capital.

Come three days if the gods deem the weather fair, you would be formally sworn to the Crowngard by Prince Emeron himself, to serve in full capacity as a retainer to his sister.

The castle is positively buzzing in activity ever since the announcement came. You can’t go anywhere in the Keep without spotting a servant polishing a suit of armor, or ridding the dust from ancient tapestries of lost kingdoms and fallen heroes. Decorations are taken out, foodstuffs prepared well in advance, and all the formalities to greet the heir to the Empire are being readied for his triumphant return.

You’ve not been direct in your duties either. In between practicing the Dance and keeping a close eye on your wounds, Palme has given you the order to guard Ellana. You already have his trust and approval. Prince Emeron’s confirmation was nothing more than a formality at this point.

(cont.)

And it did never hurt to have extra protection. Better to be safe than to be sorry, and you take to your duties with the vigilance of a hawk and the subtlety of a specter. There are too many hiding places for someone to hide in if they ever made it into the keep proper, but they also work to your advantage. Yours is a duty you treat with the proper gravity it so deserves.

“Don’t frown all the time!” Ellana chastised you one time upon midday meal.“I heard that if you make that kind of face for too long, you’ll be stuck like that forever!”

…you can’t help it. A flat, neutral expression is your automatic front. Seldom are the occasions when it shifts to something else.

But you digress. When you’re not actively guarding the Princess, the last three days of meals and scant free time have found you...

>Choose one:
>Exploring the castle. (Random Encounter?)
>Conversing with Magister Ansell.
>Talking with the kitchen serving girl.
>With your fellow Crowngard.

>>With your fellow Crowngard.
Get to know our co-workers more. Our lives will be in each other's hands now and then after all.

>>With your fellow Crowngard.

>>With your fellow Crowngard.

>>Conversing with Magister Ansell.

…with your fellow Crowngard. It made the most amount of sense, since you’d be soon sworn into their esteemed company. Even though the three that you’ve met on that day serve different members of the royal family, it’s enough of a courtesy to extend to them. Not that you’re much of a talker in their presence, anyway. The wounds left by the Black Alley Locusts’ departure from this world still have yet to heal.

>You spent time with the Crowngard.
>You got to know the members of the Crowngard.

You’ve met your fair share of unladylike women, but Bellatrix Lupine, who hails from the Western Borderlands, comes closest to the woman to end all men. The only thing ladylike you’ve ever seen from her is a polite nod and wave. In all other things, she behaved and carried herself without any regard or care for her appearance. Tomboyish would be putting it lightly.

In the absence of Princess Adrianna, her mouth was a tempestuous as a sailor fresh back at port. The Dance requires you to consume large amounts of food, and even then, you’d be willing to swear that she out-eats you at every meal. Her combat is a far cry from the graceful flow of fencing, instead a merciless onslaught of sword and spear. Gods have mercy on the broken training dummies left in her wake. You have little doubt that a solid hit from her would either break your wrist or your blade.

In sharp comparison, the Ingulan was everything that Bellatrix wasn’t. He was stoic and patient, even-tempered and a veritable font of self-control. His inability to speak the common tongue did nothing to hinder himself. In light of a background, his skills spoke mounds for him. Plucking eight apples from the air in less than ten seconds, he is, without a doubt, the most skilled archer you’ve ever come across.

(cont.)

Raleigh did not require too much of a preamble. A scion of House Silverow, he stuck out among the Crowngard in that he was the sole noble in its ranks. Lupine doesn’t know too much of the details, but what she did share with you was that he chose duty to Prince Allanus over an illustrious position in the Ivory Tower. With his name and apparent power, it would have been an easy choice to pick a position of relative ease.

Not so for him. And he was steadfastly stubborn on saying why. But it doesn’t matter too much. It’s just like Palme said: everyone had their fair share of dead bodies in their closets. You yourself are no exception. Even Lupine, for all her blunt mannerisms, had enough insight to not violate that rule.

>You are regarded by the Crowngard as [Trustworthy].

The sound of the aforementioned knightess smashing another practice dummy into splinters jerks you violently out of your thoughts. You try not to wince as she sets off another muttered litany of insults to the shattered equipment as she goes about trying to clean up the mess. You’ve lived in the slums your whole life, and even you’ve never heard of language that colorful.

Silverow is absent from the barracks, apparently working in secret in order for your next ‘duel’. You do not look forward to that in the slightest. As for the Ingulan, he merely regards Lupine with an exasperated look before returning to his wood carving.

>Compliment her strength.
>Help her clean up the mess.
>Tell her about self-control.
>Custom option.

>>Tell her about self-control.
Bitch, calm down.

>>Compliment her strength.

>>Compliment her strength.
>>Help her clean up the mess.
Meat shield friends are best friends

>>Tell her about self-control.
Unless she is a barbarian using rage buff.

>>Help her clean up the mess

>You’ve lived in the slums your whole life, and even you’ve never heard of language that colorful.
I'm genuinely curious about what she is saying. Are there that many variations to fuck and shit?

Aside from insulting the dummy proper, she goes on in great detail to insinuate the incompetence of the carpenter is brought on by his mother having copulated with an entire milita's number of village idiots, as well as various other slurs that detonate someone of mental retardation and other birth defects like two left hands, narrow eyes, etc.

Writing...

She's the Fitz, Archer is Mackay, Silverrowe is Brady?

And Pixie is roleplaying the princess.

So bloodbound retainer is their pathfinder campaign then?

>Pathfinder campaign
>we didn't pick a caster
We fucked up.

>Adrian is edgy as all fuck with bullshit stats
>everyone else is pissed as fuck with him for his good rolls
>the reason Bellatrix keeps on breaking dummies is because Fitz keeps rolling ones on control
Oh fuck, my sides.

Pixie wanted to play a princess, didn't care if it was an NPC

Now pixie won't stop doing the princess voice

You push yourself off of your pillar and approach her without any preamble. You offer Lupine a wary look as you help her pick up pieces of broken wood and perforated metal. This is not the first time this has happened, apparently, as a large cart with ruined equipment stands innocuously to the side.

As soon as you both toss the ruined practice dummy into its proper receptacle, you exhale slightly. “That’s quite the sword and spear arms you’ve got there. You must have worked quite hard to achieve such feats of strength.”

The irritation on her face gives way to a crooked smile. If it weren’t for her tone of voice, it would’ve been a sneer on someone else’s face. “Some women like to practice their needlework and cooking. Me? Not in this age or the next. And I’m not that much of an enigma. If those simpering little dolls ever got off of their cushioned chairs and laid down their porcelain, they’d be just as strong as I am.”

“Do you really think that?”

She adopts an introspective look before shaking her head. “Nah, you’re right, Painel. No woman can ever get as strong as I am. They’re welcome to try, though,” She finishes with a challenging smirk, and a sideways look to the broken equipment. “They’re most certainly welcome to try.

“You yourself are no slouch either. I didn’t get the chance to tell you the other day, but the way you kicked Raleigh’s ass? The way you just danced around him…hell, you’ve got the hair for it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d peg you for a woman.”

That stops you in your tracks, but her smirk returns in full force. “Just a jape, is all. Kind of our tradition to give the newest recruit a friendly ribbing now and again. I’m fairly certain you’ve got all the proper bits underneath your uniform.”

(cont.)

>didn't care if it was an NPC
She is a non-combat PC

Well she just made this weird.

>this
GoldJerryGold.gif

Twenty bucks says she's a lesbian.

>3 votes to compliment
>2 to help clean up
>2 to self-control
>only does the first 2
Shame on you

>(cont)
There is a character limit numbnuts. Be patient.

>character limit
He should've moved to /qst/ :^)

You can’t help but snort even as your lip twitches in slight discomfort. What an unrefined woman. The fact that she’s the first retainer to Princess Adrianna of all people is nothing short of baffling. Both women were polar opposites in every literal sense. By what cosmic accident brought the two of them together?

“Still…” She continues, casting a look towards the now-empty Floor. “Apparently, Prince Emeron is still hours away from the capital, and a far distance from the Keep proper. Plenty of time for us to have a go at it. Your…whatever that is,” She emphasizes her words with a dismissive wave, “Against my sword and spear. You may have bested Silverow, but he’s just a mage.

“Up against a proper fighter,” She pauses to crash her weapons together, sending a metallic hum reverberating across the stone walls, “I think you’d definitely have the disadvantage. Care to prove me otherwise?”

The words are biting, but little more than a challenging tone meant to incite you. And she’s doing a decent job at it. You’re nowhere near the apocalyptic rage on the night Princess Ellana saved you, but the Song in your blood slowly begins to set a tempo…

>“More than willing to take you on.”
>“Not today during the Prince’s return.”
>Custom option.

>>“More than willing to take you on.”

I know it's bait but....

>>“Not today during the Prince’s return.”

>>“More than willing to take you on.”

>“More than willing to take you on.”
But
>“Not today during the Prince’s return.”
Also I'm still keeping an eye on my wounds. Fighting a mage wasn't so bad, but I'd imagine if I get touched by that swing of yours they'll all open up again, on top of getting new ones.

>preparing images for when the dice turn on us

>>“Not today during the Prince’s return.”
How about we show we have some self-control?

>“More than willing to take you on.”

I seriously hope we get a 1

>“Not today during the Prince’s return.”
Don't press our luck

Too late user, Veeky Forums wants to impress their waifu.

>implying my waifu isn't dead

But our waifu is deadfu

>>“Not today during the Prince’s return.”
Eh, you know what. I'm not going to bite it after all.

Our waifu is DEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Character's waifu is dead but not Veeky Forums's waifu.

>>“Not today during the Prince’s return.”

The tempo in your blood eventually fades away to a quiet silence, leaving only the sound of your breath and the gentle pop of the torches and braziers.

“I’m more than willing to take you on,” You begin, and her smirk turns into an all-out grin as she starts walking towards the Floor, only to nearly stumble at your next words. “But not today during the Prince’s return. Not to mention…”

You pause mid-sentence, taking a moment gesture to your wounds underneath your Crowngard leathers. “I’m still trying to keep an eye on these. Fighting Silverow with these wounds was manageable enough. But one swing from you might just open them up again, and give me some new ones.”

She frowns, squinting at the indicated area as if she could see through the leather. “…so you mean to tell me that you fought Silverow with a handicap…and he still lost?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point,” You retort. “I would think that it’s bad form to present myself to the princess’ brother covered in bandages and scrapes, wouldn’t it?”

Lupine shrugs. “If it was me, I’d be impressed. Then again…” She pauses to sheathe her sword and set her spear against the rack. “Fine. Then I’ll wait for this day to be over, wait for your wounds to heal. As soon as that’s finished, then it’s you and me on the Floor, your daggers against my sword and spear. Understood?”
...you’re not sure whether or not she had a clue of her risqué word choice, but you nod in agreement. “Then I’ll see you then.”

The two of you shake on it, the sharp clash of your gauntlets coming together sending an echo across the area. For the second time that day, the Ingulan sends a resigned look to the sky, mutters a few words in Tathal, and returns to his wood carving…

(cont.)

>>A few hours later…
Even in the keep, you can hear the shouts and exultations from outside of the walls. Prince Emeron and his knights had been spotted, and the gates have been lowered to allow their access into the city. The shouting only grew louder when you assume the man finally entered the capital proper.

You find yourself standing behind Princess Ellana, along with your other members of the Crowngard and their respective charges. Silverow and the Ingulan deign nods at your presence, while Lupine casts a sharp grin. Adrianna’s mouth twitches in amusement while the young Prince Allanus tries and fails to hide his unabashed curiosity.

Ellana fidgets, tugging at the fur coat that gently comes over her shoulders. Apparently, it itches something awful. But a quick look from Princess Adrianna sets your charge-to-be at an ease. Though her face suggests that she desperately wants to scratch her neck. By her side, Ser Palme flashes her a look of understanding and pats her shoulder sympathetically.

His Majesty was unable to attend due to his fever. In his place, Queen Melianna stood by her children with a well-rehearsed smile on her lips. She was dressed considerably more lightly than her ladies-in-waiting, as well as her offspring. Formerly of House Tarmond, it was little wonder why she had more resistance to the cold, given their holdfasts to the distant north.

The entire retinue gathered in the courtyard, magisters and advisors, lords and ladies, Crowngard and militia alike, all of them bow respectfully as soon as Prince Emeron rides through the Gryphon’s Gate, with armor that caught the light reflected by permafrost and lingering icicles adorning the battlements. His armor is only polished to bare minimum, not blinding in any way, shape or form.

He acknowledges the bowing with a wave of his own, the signal for everyone to straighten themselves. The Silver Knights file in behind their leader with a respectful silence.

(cont.)

So whose crownguard is the Ingulan?

Young Prince Allanus'.

Writing...

>>His Majesty was unable to attend due to his fever
[shadowrunning intensifies]

But we've known about that. That's why the Prince is in charge right now.

Honestly so long as the plots don't affect our little princess who cares

Dude's been ill and infirm for a while. Hence why the kingdom is fucked.


yup


A noble is going to try and kidnap her eventually to make a bid for the throne.

>A noble is going to try and kidnap her eventually to make a bid for the throne.
And for their efforts they'll get a pair a daggers absolutely free!

>absolutely free!
Janitors will visit him?

.......eventually they'll find the rancid trash that' making the place smell.

>Nobility (Aderaveth): Take a flat 50 to Knowledge rolls concerning this subject.
This implies the character is nobility. Last I checked, that's almost as far from true as is possible.

Before the stablehand can run forward with the stool, Emeron dismounts without any further preamble. The second his boots touch the slush of the courtyard, he’s already begun making his way to his family.

“You’ve returned successful, once more, my son,” The Queen observes, even as her son plants a kiss on her cheek. “Words cannot describe how proud your father and I are of you.”

He releases her from a quick embrace. “Thank you, mother, but I did not carry the day all by my lonesome. You praise us all with your words.”

He moves through his siblings, giving a mock bow to Adrianna before fully embracing her, much to her apparent surprise if her undignified squeak was any indication. He lifts Allanus in his arms, the two of them roaring with unrestrained laughter as they spin among the slush.

When he comes to Ellana, she shrinks back at his height, at least nearly twice the size of her with armor on. But his smile softens into something more affectionate, and that’s what pulls her away from you and Ser Palme’s legs. “Hello…brother…” She says, curtsying politely, “…it’s been…too long…”

He kneels down to her eye level, unfastening a gauntlet from his forearm to give her hair a gentle ruffle. “You don’t need to be so formal, my little Ellana. True, it’s been many years since you’ve been fostered with the von Roies, but you are still my sister. I’m always Emeron to you, and you know that.”

The familiar smile comes back to her face as she gently embraces him. Tries to, apparently, given his armor. He accepts it regardless, and turns to Ser Palme, offering a gauntleted hand. “Lord Commander Palme. I’m glad to see that my absence has not made you fat.”

The Knight grins, shaking the royal’s arm. “I’m more concerned about you, milord. Surely you must realize that cleaving through bandits are barely a good source of physical exertion.”

(cont.)

No, it's a take a free 50 on nobility trivia.

I think its supposed to be.
>Knowledge Nobility (Aderaveth): Take a flat 50 to Knowledge rolls concerning this subject.

Yeah, you're right. Fuck, that's a typo. I'll watch out for that next session.

Writing...

Hold on a moment. Their banter is drowned out by the sudden revelation of Ser Orici Palme’s standing in the knighthood. You’ve had a gut feeling that he was of great standing, if not a true and born noble. Even a high ranking member of the Crowngard to be able to command everyone’s respect.

But Lord Commander Palme? Lord Commander of the Crowngard.

Huh…now there’s little wonder as to why the others accepted his judgment regarding your joining.

Because he was the man in charge of the whole damn thing. You cast him a dirty look, which he returns with a sly grin. That information would have been very nice to know beforehand.

Emeron breaks away from his friend’s embrace, turning to you with a critical eye. “You must be the new Crowngard…the one my sister saved and the one that comes so highly recommended. I had my doubts, but now I can understand. I can see by your gait that you are no stranger to combat, and well-versed in its eloquence.

“Know that as you hold Ser Palme’s trust, you now hold mine as well. I give you my most heartfelt thanks that you have chosen to protect my beloved sister.”

>“No harm shall come to her as long as I breathe.” [Protective]
>“They’ll die before they hurt her.” [Aggressive]
>Custom option.

>>“No harm shall come to her as long as I breathe.” [Protective]

>>“No harm shall come to her as long as I breathe.” [Protective]

>>“No harm shall come to her as long as I breathe.” [Protective]

>“No harm shall come to her as long as I breathe.” [Protective]

>“No harm shall come to her as long as I breathe.” [Protective]

Veeky Forums will fail to protect her smile

>"So has she saved my life, so have I sworn it to be her shield." [Honorable]
insert joke about swearing life oaths here

>Custom option.
I OWE HER A LIFE DEBT

MY LIFE IS HERS

got you m8.

But they won't fail to murder the fuck out of whoever breaks it.

>Custom option.
"You say that like she let me have a choice in the matter. I don't know what it was that her foster family taught her but you should watch your back."

You cast your eyes downwards to regard Ellana with an expressionless look. She tries her best to stay still and ignore the bristles of the fur poking at her neck. Tries to, since her tiny little fist tightens, contracting as her face struggles to maintain a dignified front.

Eventually, her urges get the better of her, and she darts a quick hand to her neck to alleviate the irritation. At the relief, she smiles. It is nowhere near the pure elation, the radiant expression she had when she saved your life so many days ago. But it is enough to set your troubles, hesitations and concerns at ease and solidify your new resolve.

And you would be damned before you let anything happen to that smile.

You salute in the Crowngard fashion, with a fist over your heart, and meet Emeron’s gaze with one of your own. “As she has saved my life, so have I now sworn to be her shield. No harm shall come to her as long as I breathe.”

The prince blinks, surprised at the vehemence behind your words, before his face relaxes into a kind smile. “Then I leave her in your care, Marucs Painel of the Crowngard. Do whatever you can, give what you can, in order to protect Ellana Crowmond.”

>>Later

Once everyone had dismounted and settled down, Queen Melianna led the procession to the great hall, where a feast had been laid out for the nobles of the court and the officers of the Silver Knights. The royal family sits at their high table, overseeing the festivities with nods and pleasantries from their upraised seats. The room is full of life and the sounds of celebration.

Music and wine flow from minstrel’s tongues and wine skins alike as the festivities go into full swing. This is the most festive that you’ve ever seen anyone in the last few years. Emeron really is the turning point of the Empire that everyone sees him as.

(cont.)

So does Palme have that metal claw thing as well?

No. For the love of the gods, I cannot figure out what compelled the artist to attach that to his arm, let alone what the heck it is. A claw? Hell if I know. But no, he does not have whatever the heck that thing's supposed to be.

Writing...

The claw makes me think he's Knightmare. I'm half expecting him to pull out Soul Edge and start cutting everyone.

You and your fellow Crowngard stand behind your respective charges, with two new additions to your ranks: a thin man with a sharp goatee maintains a stoic front behind the queen, dressed in the raiment of a master sorcerer; to his adjacent left, a hooded figure keeps a sharp vigil behind the prince, its face and gender obscured by the shadow cast by the cowl against the torchlight.

Ser Palme had earlier promised that the kitchens had saved a sizable portion for the Crowngard, and it would be awaiting them in the barracks as soon as the festivities were over and done with. A good thing too, since Lupine had a wild look in her eyes at the food placed on varnished tables of mahogany and oak. You wouldn’t put it past her to suddenly swipe a bread roll from Adrianna’s plate.

You feel Ellana tugging at your sleeve, and you turn your attention towards her. With a mortified expression on her face tinged slightly red by alcohol, she pantomimes the need to…

…note to self: when feasting with the nobles, keep a sharp eye on the princess’s liquid intake.

With a resigned exhale, you politely excuse yourselves from the rest of the table and follow your charge towards the chamber pots. Her dress doesn’t look too complicated, but then again, you speak from the perspective of having never worn one. Hopefully she’ll alleviate herself without too much trouble.

The room was a little bit a ways from the main hall, where the privies are located. After checking your surroundings, you let the Princess enter, gingerly closing the door behind you as quiet as you can. As soon as you hear the lock sliding into place, you start to hum an old melody the Locusts used to sing, anything to drown out the noise…

>Roll 1d100 Perception.
>Best out of three.

Rolled 67 (1d100)

Check out my 1

Rolled 80 (1d100)

Rolled 97 (1d100)

No, check out MY 1.

Rolled 75 (1d100)

Rolled 5 (1d100)

WE SEE EVERYTHING

Nice roll... wait, does this mean we can hear her use the washroom? Awkward

Somehow I don't think Marcus really cares.

It's just piss.

You get used to it in the slums.

Why is the 8 year old drinking alcohol?

And Amelia said unto user: 'fuck that, you're critting.'

It's medieval times, safer for her than the water or likely rancid juice.

Fiiiiiineee.

Stupid sexy punchy goddess.

Because it's on the table

Well in ye olde dayes you couldn't really drink water. So you drink alcohol instead because it was the only other option. Milk went off to quick and juice wasn't invented yet.

Amelia a shit YHVH4lyfe

He's dead Jim.

Praise Gabby instead.

London was shit anyway

>juice wasn't invented yet.

Bruh. How many centuries do you think it takes to figure out you can crush a fruit and drink what comes out?

>Salty Lawfag detected.

Keeping it fresh and not spoiled took work.

Have you ever tried to make juice? you need 70 oranges jut for a single glass of OJ. Juice has a whole bunch of other shit in it as well. like shit tonnes of suger.