Badass Dragoons of the Highlands - Turn 3 results

[Pogo]

AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

How can this be!?

Thwarted.

The battle was going well, well for me at least. I never did care for which faction paid me, honestly, I was simply there to smash heads. And smash heads I did. To revel in the blood, brains and bone, this was my home. As I stood admiring the death around me a movement, more a shadow, caught my eye. It made the hairs of my neck stand on end. HA! I would have enjoyed that a bit longer had I only known. I dropped the iron rod I used to bludgeon these peons about me, for I sensed something, like a cold wind cutting to my core.

The shape slipped between the soldiers, and to either side they wilted into death. Yet the figure did not notice them, it bore down directly on me. I drew Pokolj, and for moment reflected on the long centuries that had past since I fought the magnificent creature, Nessie.

I could see, then, it was no shadow, no wraith, but a man. A skinny, dancing man. Who rolled death before him like a carpet. There was something in his movement, so fluid, flickering, I thought I knew it.

That movement was in the flames as I burned the altar while sacking the Cathedral of Salona, in the ripple of the curtains when I strangled my first priest, the rivulets of blood that flood into a river when I slit the throats of every monk in the monastery at Žica. This little dancing man had always followed me I realized, and his movement was pure, delicious, blasphemy.

What more is to be said? My blood boiled, my ears sang, I knew then it was one of Us, but no ordinary Immortal. Still, I lived to destroy. So I charged, I struck at him, but for every savage blow I swung he simply cut me twice as deep with ease. Oh, I nearly had him, slithering moves and all, but it was not to be my day.

Did you know, even as your head has left your shoulders, we Immortals bear witness to our own ends in this world? I felt him reach deep inside, and with a crooked smile he ripped my essence from me, then strutted off into the darkness, singing softly

Take it easy babe
Take it easy babe
Feels alright
Take it, take it easy babe…

[DreamboatSkanky]

Bag of Hammers (@DreamboatSkanky) experiences a Quickening!

[Hadley]

The battle had gone great.
I was cracking heads off left and right.
When there were no more heads to crack I called for my sake. Good sake in Kyoto.
I didn’t notice the thunder. I thought it was firecrackers celebrating my victory.
He snuck up behind me. I thought he was just another drunk pirate.
But then he used his number two pencil to slice off my head. He just erased my neck and my head fell off. Boy I did not see that coming. Best trick I’ve seen in a few millennia. For all my aggressive clomping and chomping he just absorbed all my energy.
But he forgot about my pet jellyfish Moe. Moe is loyal to the end and beyond. I know Moe will avenge me.

Kanpai bag of hammers

[teknocholer]

[excerpt from The Diaries of Other Pendragon © 2017 by TrilloCom LLC]

Sad news. Many Immortals have died, and for what? Why must we combat when we meet? Juan and The Ratchet are gone before I had the honour of meeting them.

The Lady Maud, the tall lace peddler whom I met in Avignon, has lost her head. I had hoped to meet her again and apologize. Our last encounter had us screaming insults at each other like fishwives, and although she started it, I regret letting her bait me into descending to her level. At open jest nights at the alehouses, my japes describing her as “stale, flat, and unprofitable”, and “la beldam sans merci” received much laughter, but they were unkind and unworthy of one sworn to chivalry. Shrew-shaming is never appropriate; I understand that now.

As well, I wanted to ask her about the sword she carried, a rusty, much-neglected old longsword that she boasted of winning from the Lady of the Lake in a drunken dice game. Something about it looked familiar. I suppose it is now lost forever somewhere off the coast of South America.

[daneel]

I am choking.

I try to scream, but my mouth fills with soil.

It is happening again. I thought this torture was over. I have died this death so many times before.

But wait.

This is different. There is no burning.

I claw at the ground, I dig out, finger by torturous finger. Slowly, slowly I progress, dying a thousand deaths.

Until eventually I feel air. Hands grab at me, pull me free. My eyes sting, I cannot see. Eventually, my vision returns.

I do not know these people, these faces. There is sand, there is dust. No sea, no volcano, no ash choking my lungs.

These are not my memories.

Then, I awake.

I am lying outside Fort St Elmo. Left for dead. My opponent lies here too. I do not remember what happened. There was light, and fury, and that was all.

And yet he is not just beside me. He is inside me. I feel his presence, ghostly, at the edge of my consciousness. Were these his memories? Was this why we had been drawn together through the centuries? Who was he?

I bury him, simply. I think this is what he would have wanted.

[DreamboatSkanky]

It happened just that way.

[teknocholer]

[excerpt from The Diaries of Other Pendragon © 2017 by TrilloCom LLC]

I have always felt that I am better suited to a life of natural philosophy than the soldier’s career. As a chirurgeon and aspiring physician I have acquired much knowledge of anatomy, and when I had the chance I have studied subjects ranging from astrology to alchemy.

When I heard whispers in the universities of the work of the Pole Copernicus, who was about to publish a work of radical astronomical theory, my first thought was concern that the Pope, fearful of his position in the struggle against the heretic Luther, might attempt to suppress the work.

Worse, Mr. Collins, that learning-sponge, had announced that he intended to travel to Nuremberg to acquire a copy of Copernicus’ book, and I feared for the free dissemination of knowledge if he got his hands on the master’s intellectual property.

An adventurer’s instincts cannot be easily erased. My motto has always been, “Say Yes to the Quest!”. I saddled my destrier and set off on the road to Nuremberg to meet Copernicus and offer my protection.

Nuremberg, in the heart of Brass Valley, attracted natural philosophers and artificers of all sorts. There was fanciful talk of clocks so small that people could wear one about their necks, but no one questioned the sort of society that would result when everyone walked about obsessed with the time, ignoring polite discourse with their neighbours. Some proposed that a cunningly-contrived pair of lenses would allow anyone to see things too far away for the eye, but no one considered the grave threat to privacy that this would pose. All in all, I found the city disappointingly lacking in professors of ethics.

I sent my respects to Master Copernicus and proposed that we meet the following day. At dawn, however, I awoke to voices in the street and a familiar harpstring sensation, and looked out of the window to see Mr. Collins, in a choleric mood most unlike him, loudly addressing a strange being wearing a plain brown wrapper. She (for it was a she) threw off her garment, revealing herself to be a member of that family of large deer, known as moose, that I had seen when I travelled with Prince Madoc to the New World.

Her gesture seemed to enrage Mr. Collins even more, but he got control of himself and said coldly, “Hello. My name is Mr. Collins, Librarian. You bit my sister. Prepare to die.” Raising a hefty-looking scroll above his head, he assumed a stance in the “drunken pedant” fighting style that he must have picked up in Beijing.

Refusing to be cowed, the moose pawed the ground and snorted. “I am Maple, Daughter of Pudf, Moosekin of the Clan Clamphoof. Your sister deserved it!” Drawing an ornate sword, she charged.

Lady Maple struck a ferocious blow that cut deeply, but Mr. Collins got the measure of her sword and skillfully deflected her next thrusts with deft little movements of his scroll, all the while criticizing her grip and suggesting that she work on her follow-through. The constant belittling was starting to have its effect when Mr. Collins switched to a more aggressive style and began to taunt her, describing how he was going to hang her head above his fireplace, which I personally think was tacky, but it had its effect, and after a few more minutes of his goading I heard a sickening thud and realized that it was over. Yes, he had talked her head off.

I got my autographed copy of De revolutionibus orbium coelestium and left Nuremberg forever.

[Glutnix]

The rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated. I mean, I am dead. How I died was a crying shame, to be sure.

Before the sun awoke, I rose to meditate the morning of the publication. To read about natural philosophy is such a pleasure. I wished to honour the creators and clear my mind for breathing in new concepts about this world of ours.

Attempting to return to lodgings before I was detected by the morning throng of Nuremburg, on the road back into the city my good friend the immortal Mr Collins approached. I trust him indeed, and we have met many times. Something was … awry… did he not recognize me in this gloomy twilight before the day?

He swung, missing my side. I attempted to block, but somehow accidentally connected with his ear. This is what trying to block a friends vicious attacks without dropping my hood will do. I tried to fend off his blows, but alas. Reaching deep within, I managed to land a mighty blow on his side, but he did me through.

Collapsing on my knees, he approached with a grin on his face. He murmured something I could not hear, then decapitated me, knocking my head back through my hood. Only now did Mr Collins realise his folly. Crestfallen, falling to his own knees, he has brought his long time friend to the end.

I begin to experience the quickening in a new way, one with more peace than I had felt it before. It was different as I was the soul being brought under submission. And different again, for that soul was going to help a friend.

Many years later, a drink was named after Tom.

[ghoti]

Woof woofwoof ruff bark bark bark!
Ruffbark, woof woof grrrrrrrr arfbark yipyipyipyip! Woof!

And that’s how I kept my head and lived to fight another day.

[strokeybeard]

For the past month I had enjoyed the hospitality of the Sultan’s kitchens, cellars and harem, albeit without his knowledge. I had finally inveigled my way into the Sultana’s quarters to spend an afternoon engaging the Sultana’s pleasures. Having ensured that a repeat performance was on the cards I slipped out of her apartments with some haste, attempting to avoid the rather large eunuchs set to guard her from people like me.

I skidded round a corner and came face to face with a statuesque woman. I could tell that she was older than her looks. Mature, like a fine vintage ready to be uncorked. Intrigued, I turned on the charm, but she was having none of it.

One-two, one-two, and through and through, her vorpal blade went snicker-snack.

I mostly felt surprise as the sharp, clean pain went through my neck. Clearly, dinner was out of the question.

My body collapsed and I felt pain as my skull bounced across the tiled floor. She picked me up by the scalp and stared into my eyes. My vision dimmed and I smiled as my last thought went through my brain. “Did I at least give good head?”

[David_Falkayn]

We Immortals continue to favor “forward” fighting stances. In the early rounds, Reckless was clearly favored.

In this round, a third of all chosen stances were Aggressive, which is the best possible stance for facing Reckless.

Amongst the 19 surviving immortals, the stances (and therefore bonuses) are:

stance		%			best counter-stance
Reckless	26%				Agressive
Agressive	24%				Normal
Normal	    14%				Defensive
Cautious	19%				Reckless
Defensive	17%				Cautious

Notably, T. D. Himself has chosen Aggressive for 12 of his 18 stances. T.D. Himself also has 8 strength and a quickening, so he is looking like the most dangerous Immortal.

NOMRAL is the best stance against T.D. Himself. NORMAL is also the best stance against the other three who prefer the Aggressive stance (Hamlar @tobinl, Jane @MalevolentPixy, and Bon MCavoy @Donald_Petersen )

The other four Individuals prominent for using a single stance ( eg Maple Clamphoof @Glutnix , Shemp @Hadley, The Worker @manwich , and Juan @strokeybeard ) perished this round. Notably, each focused on a different stance.

[Old]

The Court of Suleiman the Magnificent (1520-1566):

Realizing too late that other Immortals have clashed, Mom (@old) busies herself with court intrigue, gossip, and interesting new recipes.

Harold! Take that bath towel off your head this instant. I know when you’re mocking me!

I was hoping to see my friend Ennis today. We were going to meet at the food court at the mall to talk about what to read for book club next month. But, she called me at the last moment and do you know what she said?

Harold?

Harold!

Yes, well, she said that Juan of her other friends was losing her head and needed a little face time. What kind of talk is that? Anyhow, I can’t wait until next week to find out what that was all about. Plus, I was really looking forward to a Cinnabon. Now finish getting dressed and you can come sit and watch my show with me. I washed your snuggie and everything. And there’s cake on the counter in there if you’d like some.

[MalevolentPixy]

I only joined this voyage because it seemed like it would get me home. Okay, and to appease the nagging of the gods. I tried to get away when they first brought me back to familiar land, but they were rather displeased with finding me aboard (and apparently tales of what happened the last time I was aboard a ship preceded me) for they locked me in a cage.

I prayed for a release. I argued. I bargained.The gods did not answer. I told them what I thought, and that is when it happened. I felt the waves throwing the ship from side to side, and then the wood began to break. Water flooded in and my guards abandoned me. I kicked hard against the door and eventually the lock broke. I collected some things before leaving them to their fate.

I had barely gained my footing in the harbour when a giant sea snake appeared. I do not like snakes. Nor do I like these ships. It is fair to say, in fact, that I had had enough of [expletive] snakes on this [expletive] ship. At the same time I felt the sign from the god of escape and early warnings. They are the only one who has not been capricious – the other gods come and go, aid and mock me as they please. Unwise behaviour for those who have but one subject left. I stared at the creature, not willing to believe it initially. Could a snake truly be blessed or cursed by a god? Fortunately, I decided that it didn’t matter, it was an [expletive] snake and it only made sense to chop off its head, even if it was waving around a gigantic wooden sword.

I was close to achieving my goal when a rogue wave swept me into a strong current and pulled me under, sucking me into the undertow. Needless to say, this did nothing to improve my hearing. Nor did being ripped away from my homeland once more do much for my temper. Whichever god is responsible is going to have a lot to answer for.

[penguinchris]

When Nessie left Scotland to fight the hated English across the channel she met, among others, an intriguing mercenary from Italy. They were fast friends - few others had ever understood Nessie like she did. Most just see the monster, but this mercenary saw the gentle soul within.

The mercenary needed to return to Florence to collect payment, and invited Nessie along. The overland journey would have meant an uncomfortable amount of time out of the water for Nessie, so she opted to swim around and meet her there. Her cruise of the beaches of southern Europe are perhaps a story for another time. She found the Arno and swum up into Florence - she picked up the oft-foul scent of Immortals and managed to glare at one near a bridge, but she couldn’t find the mercenary.

Nessie was in the process of commissioning the world’s largest bowl of spaghetti to drown her sorrow in carbohydrates when an English rogue came at her neck with a sword out of the shadows. Nessie braced, but the sword never connected. She opened her eyes on an ex-Englishman. She spit on him for good measure and looked around to see her savior - her beloved mercenary.

They lived a happy life in the Lago Trasimeno (…and in a castle on an island) - as happy as any life can be when an immortal and a mortal get together. Upon the mercenary’s death of old age sometime in the mid 1400s, Nessie, heartbroken, terrorized the Lago for a few years, but her heart wasn’t in it. She dragged herself back out to sea and headed for her Scottish home.

Shortly after passing through the Strait, she came across some black ships. As she went in to spook them for a bit for a laugh, she overheard talking from the captain’s quarters. She stuck her neck up outside the window to listen, and heard Magellan’s plan to circumnavigate the globe. This was it! Something to lift her spirits.

Nessie had considered exploring the great seas before, but it’s a difficult prospect without support ships. The crew mutinied when they found out that Magellan had agreed to act as support for Nessie’s expedition, but they relented when she agreed to share the fortune and glory - and remembering that she had towed the ships through the Atlantic doldrums.

One of the ships, the Santiago, was wrecked when scouting ahead with Nessie. A prisoner aboard the ship - a stowaway - escaped and, being an immortal, fought Nessie. It is unrecorded how the crew - all of whom survived, thanks to Nessie’s help - reacted to this battle. Nessie let Jane go - she reminded her of the mercenary - but did put her name on her list.

Unfortunately, when Magellan died in the Philippines (Nessie had urged him not to go fight), popular support among the remaining crew for Nessie dwindled. She had a backpack made for supplies and headed home by herself, stopping in cities along the way to sample the world’s cultures - and to find herself.

[David_Falkayn]

Madame Maud d’Oilly @KeisterButton was far more than an extraordinary flower of Norman nobility. She was a GentleWoman of the highest caliber. She taught me Middle French, amended my Vulgate, and achieved the seemingly impossible feat of improving my already elegant manners.

She witnessed Europe’s “big” events – Crecy , the Spanish Inquisition, the first Circumnavigation — and inummerable human moments with her greatest gift: a keen eye for the “mere trifle” that captured the soul of a place.

The beautiful lace of a Breton woman identifies her village and reveals something special about her village. M. d’Oilly’s careful observations and enduring patience with a certain librarian mean this beauty and knowledge, and much else, has been preserved.

The Good Woman was balefully aware of what her future might hold, so she left this Poem – more fitting words than even I could craft.

sustulit eum
Reflective reversus est in te amo cantabo
Errant dies mei repleti
Inlusio in porta pascit me ab adolescentia
In temperatis amnis
Fluidus liquor omniaque in me

Venite ad te veniet
Veni, veni non

sustulit eum
Reversus amo quae in cantare
stat caelum
Christianus venit ut aliquando
Occasum solis occasum exemplum
Set post votum promissa quietis meae
Tenere in aperto corde,

Requiescat in pace, Gentle Maud.
Carry her well, Bon @Donald_Petersen

[David_Falkayn]

M. D’oilly’s own, beautfiul translation

Lifted up
Reflective in returning love you sing
Errant days filled me
Fed me illusion’s gate in temperate stream
Welled up within me
A hunger uncurbed by nature’s calling
Seven sacraments to song
Versed in Christ should strength desert me

They’ll come, they come
Come there, come come do they

Lifted up
Reflected in returning love you sing
Heaven waits
Someday Christendom may come
Westward evening sun recedent
Set my resting vow
Hold in open heart
Open heart

A major improvement over my scholarly translation of

"He/She/It carries him
Or to have bent back it was turned back on you I love I will sing
My complete days wander
Irony/mocking in the gate he/she/it feeds (on) me from youth
in mild/temperate stream
Soft liquid and all things in me (and all soft things in me melt?)

Come, let it come to you
Come, do not come

He/She/It carries him,
Returned/Having turned back I love those things which sing,
The sky stands,
Christ comes so that ever/anytime
Setting of the sun the slain example/warning
But, after prayer, promises for rest for me
To hold in the revealed heart"

[Nightflyer]

Bag of Hammers (@DreamboatSkanky) experiences a Quickening!

Did you say…

…?

[teknocholer]

A moving tribute, Mr. Collins, rivaling in fulsomeness and erudition, if not in length, your famous eulogy at the funeral of Gilles de Rais. But, as with that celebrated oration, you tend to draw a curtain over the little details that round out our understanding of the life that was lived, and bring out the human side of your subject.

De mortuis nihil nisi bonum, but I have always held that, for us to empathize with the departed, we need to see them “warts and all”, as it were. (Not that I imply for a moment that Lady Maud had warts.)

Maud d’Oilly was certainly of noble bearing, and conducted herself, for the most part, with the dignity of her rank. She did not, however, suffer fools gladly, as this fool had occasion to observe, and had an earthy manner of speech that, while often charmingly informal, could descend to invective at times. Our last encounter was marked by acrimony on both sides, and I make no excuse for my unchivalrous behaviour, but in my defense, being called “hedgeborn” is a calumny no gentleman of honour could let pass. As my dear mother, Lady Gwendolyn “Little Saucepan” Pendragon always said, “Noble is as noble does”.

Let us remember Lady Maud as she was: proud, courageous, and plain-spoken. She was well-versed in languages and, as her good friend Lucrezia Borgia once said, showed a talent for potions and alchemy. Had we not fallen out, I would have proudly worn her doily at the tournaments. The world has lost a tall woman.

Other Pendragon
Knight

[—not for publication—
I still suspect that Lady Maud was the one who introduced some leperous distilment into my zuppa inglese in Florence, but that was years ago, and de minimis non curat lex. ]

[strokeybeard]

As my dear mother, Lady Gwendolyn “Little Saucepan” Pendragon always said, “Noble is as noble does”.

I disagree. I’ve done nobles and, really, they’re the same in the dark as everyone else. All cats are black under the sheets, as they say. Although your mother sounds familiar. Did I ever meet her? I recall a mole on her left cheek (no, her other left cheek).

[teknocholer]

Although your mother sounds familiar. Did I ever meet her?

She certainly remembered you, and told the tale of her encounter with Juan the Perverted many times, to much laughter. Did your bollocks ever grow back?

I hear you died whimpering after your attempt to grope the noble Ennis, before we ever had a chance to meet. Wherever you are spending eternity, thank whatever gods you worship that that was so.