Homebrew system thread II, part 2

[Fiji_Fury]

Dale places a hand on Larric's shoulder to interrupt.

"Forgive me Maker Wright, but do you know me? I find myself... quite lost at this time. When I crossed paths with Larric and his companions I joined them, but my memories are quite throughly jumbled. I had meant to ask you after the state of the community, but if you know me, I fear I must first be more selfish. Who am I?"

[Simon_Jester]

Larric contentedly remains silent and tilts his head to indicate "Dale first." The main reason for the time-buying is that Larric was worried he'd be more disoriented by that, or have one of those confused remembering-spells or something.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

'You're paying their wergild, then- you will square that with their families and survivors. Crisis or no, you do not take charge of someone's force and lead them into batle without so much as a by your leave.' the constable states to Alfred. Not unreasonable in itself- from a certain point of view.

(Wergild= compensation payouts, essentially. Yes, they go back more than a thousand years before the present day, and vary by class, by status, by occupation- but it's fair to say it's going to be a lot. Whether the humans came up with it first and the dwarves took it up or it was originally a dwarvish idea, it's the sort of thing that fits easily in their headspace. The elves are horrified by the concept, considering it something very like buying justice, and the baseline orc approach is that if you were daft enough to get killed, then your community's probably better off without you.)


Down at the boatyard, Maker Wright looks at Dale with some surprise then says 'Oh. Hm. I'm not entirely certain what I should tell you, because frankly we weren't exactly on the best of terms. Doctrinal issues. You were a Warden, and, hm. How far back do I have to- good grief, that far? Let's start with the theology then.

You were a warden, which is a sort of marching priest, of Dnor the god of death. Personally I'm not so sure about, it's hard for anyone to be a conduit of the gods and have a stable home, and harder if you have to move a lot, but I think your family came from down south, and you had a friend in the Order of the Oriflamme.

There is a bit of a difference betwen what you call lifewardens and deathwardens; it's more attitude than abilities, but basically lifewardens do the whole putting the dead to rest properly, investigating odd deaths, warding and sanctifying bit, and deathwardens hit the things that shoudn't be moving around, put unquiet spirits to rest, amputate vampires, that sort of thing.

You were one of the deathwardens, and not an extremist which is probably why you're having troubles; caught in the middle, in the crossfire. With all that happened- so many dead who should not be, so many living without the means to sustain themselves, so much grief- the boundaries of life and death got a bit fuzzy.

One party favoured closing the gates of the afterworld- refusing to allow the dead who should not have died to actually be dead, others thought it was blasphemy and exactly what you were meant to fight against; some wanted to cull, some went mad and decided everyone should be dead because the world had gone crazy- others thought they had gone from the worship of the god of death to outright death worship- oh, your church tore itself to bits.

The sensible ones who tried to hold to their duty were the first to be pulled apart, right in the centre of the whirlpool. We had our own difficulties so I don't know that many of the details, but sacrificing your sanity may have been better than sacrificing your honour.'

[Panzersharkcat]

"That is the least I can do." That's going to be expensive.

(OOC: It's reasonable enough. It prevents blood feuds.)

[Simon_Jester]

Larric nods quietly, it's been a very deadly winter, and he'd probably have his own memories from the outside of the priests of death falling apart under the strain in the past several weeks.

Assuming Dale doesn't look overcome with emotion and in urgent need of a friendly face, he moves off a bit to give Dale a bit of privacy with the man filling him in on his memories. And to check the shed where he stowed his goods before departing for the ancient magical fortress. Everything in order on a cursory inspection?

[Panzersharkcat]

"Still, though I do take much blame for it, it is not totally reasonable for me to pay it all off myself. I did not personally kill them (and de Berrey is unable to pay on account of missing a head). They fell in the line of duty doing their job, which you were not present for."

(OOC: Thanks once more for Sancho Panza for rescuing me from merely skimming things.)

[Simon_Jester]

OOC:

http://hallofbeorn.files.wordpress.com/ ... m-bear.jpg

Panzer you moron, I specifically said it was a moot point because you already made a promise.

Now you've pissed him off and got the worst of both worlds!

PAY ATTENTION! Otherwise, we may end up shopping for a new knight. Actually, that might happen now.

[Panzersharkcat]

(OOC: Well, if he dies and I decide to continue on, which is not a guarantee, I probably won't roll another knight. I think I'll roll up somebody mute. In any case, in character, read as one statement, it goes more like "Alright, I accept that I am largely at fault and so I will pay. However, it is not entirely reasonable for me to hold all the burden." Or at least, that was the intention. The only really insulting bit is "which you were not present for", for which I can say to him, in character, that was careless tongue if he took insult to it; rather, it was intended as saying it was a shame I could not have had you by my side.)

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Determined adherence to principles is not an unusual trait in a knight, and certainly not the worst.

The problem is that the Constable's reputation is shaky enough that he has little room to be generous and magnanimous. Simon, your reaction is close to the truth- however it was meant, that is essentially how he has to take it or his followers will start losing confidence in him.

Kaelan, are you out there? Sir Dirt's contribution may be valuable.


At the boatyard, Wright remembers the earlier comment and says 'The boatbuilding is going all too well, unfortunately- we're running short of wood, and not short at all of people who prefer a quiet life. Biggest single problem is teaching people how to be safe on the water and how to look after a houseboat properly.

In the air...there have been wizards, of course, individual acts of craft, but none that could split the sky. There are some wonderful things that could be done with something like that- and some terrible ones if it was put to ill use. Everything seems to be there in the shed where it was left, a cloth draped over it, and the mule and the horses there too, grazing contentedly.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

Missed the edit window;

Actually, thinking about it, "you moron" may be a shade harsh. I'm not sure I'd want to hang around with people who said that sort of thing about me either. (Which makes my continued presence on SDN all the more remarkable, really.)

What Alfred says often doesn't come out the way you seem to have meant it, Panzer, and to be honest I want you to do exactly the opposite to playing a mute- talk more, communicate more. The sentence fragment posts are actually easier to misinterpret and get the wrong end of.

Assuming something of the sort happens- an explanation like that- grumpiness is smoothed over, to a degree. The duel earlier helps. Actual haggling may now commence.

[Kaelan]

OOC
Sorry for the late posts, part waiting for others to post and part family birthdays & work catch-up's this past week and a half, should be on top of it all by the end of this week.

IC
Dirt pulls out the sword and examines it. Fine blade catching the light, not the usual human or orc hammered out twisted iron. Good balance (though too small to comfortably fit in his hand) and able to withstand the hammering of an ogre axe without bending of shattering. Traces of magic woven into its construction.

Sigh...

Seeing his visions of a set of full plate armour riding off into the sunset on a war elephant Dirt hands the sword over to Alfred.

[Simon_Jester]

OOC:

Panzer, I apologize, I wrote that at what I thought was a psychological low- I'd still think so if I hadn't just gotten back from jury duty. I think I have just about the right level of faith in humanity to really understand what's happening in "the baron's back!" Qulan. Ugh.

ECR was right to rebuke me over it, too- I have an explanation above, but that's not an excuse. Won't happen again.

Further details I'm PMing to Panzer now that this is written.


As to the rest- while a simple "I will pay for the damages" isn't necessarily the optimal strategy it's a decent one; the problem comes when one starts trimming and trying to get the best of both worlds and ending up with the best of neither. I should remember that too- I'm a compulsive optimizer sometimes, even when it'd make more sense to settle for one consistent option and stick to your guns. Alfred's got that, he's basically honorable and defaults to good options, even if they're not always well-considered. On the whole, I like that, and having someone like that in the party is a good thing.

IC:

Larric contemplates leading the animals back to the castle and its (inferred) stables, decides against it for now. Trying not to interrupt Dale if Dale starts asking the Ikhrani priest more questions, he will nonetheless ask about who left the horses here. His first guess is Dame Tamarin- and he'll enquire about how Tamarin is doing.

[Panzersharkcat]

(OOC: It's fine. I have a fairly thick skin. I wasn't totally paying attention in writing that since my attention was divided. One of the things I was doing at the time was having a character explain why decimation is a horrible form of punishment. Making soldiers watch as their comrades are killed by their brothers-in-arms is detrimental to morale and it wastes valuable manpower. He was also going to mention how expensive it is to train and equip soldiers and killing them unnecessarily is a severe misallocation of resources. There was going to be a rant of sorts comparing military philosophy between the neo-Soviets and their use of mass conscript armies with no body armor and the neo-Byzantines and their relatively small professional army with decent quality combat armor for even the lowliest soldier, with a minor barb aimed at the neo-Soviets with their relative lack of concern for casualties. That was cut for space concerns, though. As it is, it's a really long conversation, so the player may not have the attention span to go through the whole thing again on replays. I missed the edit window but I thought of doing a mute bard since it may be a nice challenge. It's probably too much of one, though.)

After getting over the minor surprise of Dirt handing Alfred the sword, he packs it away to examine later. Perhaps he'll sell it to help pay part of his share of the wergild. It may not fetch enough to cover much of it but he may as well get the late de Berrey to do his part. He hasn't decided yet, though. "If I may be so bold as to inquire, what do you estimate will be the total of the wergild?"

[Fiji_Fury]

Dale is outwardly stoic but internal turmoil rages.

"Have there been others of my faith in Qulan recently? If so, I would speak to them or at least try to track them down. Based on what you have said they may be similarly lost... or conspiring to commit terrible blasphemy. Either way, I have need of speaking with them."

He looks around at the ships being built.

"Whatever else may have happened between us Maker, I can certainly say I do not envy you your work. What I have seen of Qulan and can remember leaves me with a bad taste. This place continues to suffer and tremble. Do remember that death comes for us all in due time. People fear dying, which is understandable, but death itself is not terrible except for those who have lived wicked lives. May peace be on you Maker."

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

To Dale, Maker Wright says 'There are- it was never a large temple though. There are two I know of, one, well, you know where the graveyard is. Oh. Well, Right at the gates of the boatyard, then left down Silent Street and keep on that until you get to the wall, and there used to be a gate there.
Blocked off years ago, so go around Wall Street until you come to one of the other gates then go through it, and turn back the way you went along the outside of the wall until you find it. He's there, I think, or most usually to be found there. The other one seems to turn up at odd moments, and I don't think she was entirely all there to begin with.

The worse things are, the greater the temptation is to be wicked in order to get by; peace would indeed be welcome.'


Panzer- off topic first, decimation was extremely rare and generally only employed in the aftermath of a horrendous cockup when the unit had behaved or blundered so badly (for instance by running and leaving another unit open to casualties on that scale or worse) that it was debatable whether the army might not be better off without them. It's more than just detrimental to morale; it's embarrassing, brutalising, shaming, tormenting- intended to, at the end of that all, make them do better next time. It also largely belongs to the republic, the days of senate and citizen soldiers. Only one roman legion, I believe, that was recorded as having been decimated more than once in it's career- the unlucky Ninth Hispana.

'You won't owe it all to me, there are others in there too- and some of the wounded, let us hope, will live. Forty silver pieces to the family of each dead man, for a foot soldier.' Of the twenty- five casualties you took, nine are dead and another five may die without good care. This could get expensive.

[Panzersharkcat]

(OOC: So potentially 560 silver pieces. Is there a specific currency name for them, by the way, like miliaresion or are they just called silver pieces? Anyway, the decimation rant was in response to the Soviet foreign minister telling a tale where he decimated his company for fleeing from a skirmish, justifying by saying the men need to fear their commander more than the enemy. Alexius' response was that you can't make them hate your guts either. He had an anecdote of one of his ancestors who was overthrown for trying to decimate his army for fleeing from a smaller one. Anecdotal evidence isn't that useful but that was from name dropping Emperor Maurice and his Strategikon.)

"So it can range between 360 to 560 silver pieces." He scratches his chin in contemplation. "I'll need to find somebody well-versed enough in law to see what the law is in regards to appropriating Captain de Berrey's property, if he has any. Do you know where I can find somebody like that?" Mind you, it'd be from Captain de Berrey, not the boy. Looting from the latter would not be kin-like behavior.

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

The currency standard in use is basically that of the Authrani Empire, with the reorganisation that followed in the wake of the black towers. (I've tried out a few names but none of them seem to have stuck). Most states and some local lords coin their own, standards are enforced, call it the arg. Usually pronounced as "How much is this going to cost me? Arg."

It works out at something like a year's pay (per man of course), hardly a lifetime award but enough to hold the family together until they figure out something else.

'That could be difficult- what property he has, if any more than the shirt he stood up in, is likely in the capital. Sherriff could tell you how it works aound here- I could tell you that much, all of his things are forfeit to you- but a city man might not agree.'

[Simon_Jester]

OOC:

To expand on what ECR said, the key here is citizen-soldiery. To be a Roman soldier during the era of the Republic was tied into your concept of yourself as a citizen of the Republic, and in a larger sense your pride and honor as a man. Decimation meant that your entire unit had, essentially, failed as men and members of the Republic to the point where only the most extreme action could possibly redeem you- and to emphasize this with a traumatic experience. For this to function it had to be in the context of the rule of law.


Ultimately, the Romans took a great many precautions to stop the military from controlling civilian government. The consuls and so on, the elected officials of the Republic, were not answerable to the legions; it worked the other way around, at least until Sulla broke the rules. Armies HAD to disband before even approaching Rome, largely to avoid any possibility of a coup.

As long as the tradtions of the Republic were followed, the decimation worked within the framework. If I might get a bit poetical: Rome, herself, the city and her laws, was the mistress of your fate and arbiter of your honor. Fail her badly enough, and the collective right of your military unit to even exist, to live on as a collection of her citizens, was forfeit until the unit sacrificed of its blood, to make it sink in just how badly they'd failed her.


The city of Rome can demand that. An emperor cannot. Absolute rulers whose survival depends on military force cannot so easily order decimations, which is where the bits you're taking from Maurice come in. Militaries with mass executions and dictatorship usually only work if the army in question has a parallel network of political commissars to keep track of compliance, carry out the executions themselves, and take down any officers who might start organizing a revolt in response to the executions.


IC:

[Simon_Jester]

IC:

Larric first ducks back into the shed to do inventory. The loot from the First Age fortress included:
-Some fancy cutlery and clothes
-A box of documents of deMarail's barony
-A staff with a holy symbol of Ikhran
-A journal about the fortress
-A salamander-eye pendant.
-A magic sword (handed to Dale already)

Assuming it's been moved there (the heavier items would be with You Bastard the mule, the lighter ones like the amulet he'd have kept on his person but not done much with yet)...

He rustles the staff out of the pile, takes it outside, and presents it to Wright. "Maker, when me and my friends were down in that cave-" he nods in a northerly direction- "we found this. Seemed like the church's business to me." To him that's a religious obligation, not loot. He's willing enough to move on after he listens to whatever Wright might say in immediate response.



His next move- Dale seems to need privacy more than company at the moment, and has his own personal quests to see to. So Larric smiles at him, and says "Good luck with your fellow, if that's where you're bound; I've some business to catch up on, if you don't mind." Larric likes Dale, but graveyards make him deeply uncomfortable. To be polite he gives Dale a pause, either for a temporary goodbye or to ask for company- which Larric would provide if asked.

Then Larric turns and heads back up to the castle, to check his rooms. Someone may waylay him, but if that doesn't happen he goes to the room(s) the party was staying in the last time we were in town, and checks whether they're still available or have been reoccupied by some knight or official in the party's absence. If he actually encounters Dame Tamarin, Sir Detrick, or Lisanna, he stops to speak to them, but he's not looking for them yet.

Having either found the room occupied or unoccupied, he steps out of doors to think. Again, someone may waylay him; if that doesn't happen- if there were tobacco he would probably stop for a smoke, as something to do with his hands while his brain works things over. His first impulse is a drink, but that doesn't feel quite right.

There's politics all around, that much is obvious from just the ambiance of the castle even if no one has waylaid him (would be interesting to know what the keen-eared man might pick up just wandering about, but not critical). He could try to catch up with his friends involved in that and help them, but... he's got yet another legal obligation of his own, and which frankly appeals to him a lot more. Even though he's been vaguely dreading it for weeks as something that might get embarrassing.

So he leaves the castle once more and goes looking for Tesius Sihulam, senior though not seniormost wizard of the Qulan guild. He has business with them, and it's less alarming than getting caught up in any more attempted murders at the moment. When he finds the wizard, he says "Hello, how are you this afternoon?" as a neutral opening; he'll broach the subject of guild status shortly but wants to start with something else.

[Panzersharkcat]

(OOC: OK, good. I can sell the sword, then. I was thinking of letting Dale have it but if he prefers the magic sword, then hurray, I can make de Berrey pay for things a bit.)

"Thank you for your time." He gives the Constable a curt bow, as in merely short, and heads off to pay Andrea a visit. See how she's doing and all. After that, the Sheriff.

[Fiji_Fury]

OOC: Panzer, the sword is yours to deal with as you see fit. Dale is already armed with both a mundane and a supernatural blade (not to mention my collection of knives, which so far has not come into play). He's stocked up on weapons. Given that Dirt was stuck with it, I'd vote for it being his, but he did turn it over to your care.

IC:
"Thank you Maker Wright."

Dale apprciates Larric's discretion and heads for the graveyard/temple to D'nor on his own. He's hoping some memories are triggered by familiar places and needs to speak with others of his order in any event. While Maker Wright's assertion that 'going mad may be the sensible thing under the circumstances' could seem right to an outsider, Dale doesn't get the feeling that is what happened. His duties continue regardless of the past, but his amnesia is a whole in himself, rather than something irrational. At no point do any of his current feelings or flashbacks indicate that he became irrational and crazed. Perhaps others of D'nor's servants might have more answers.

The directions provided by Maker Wright were clear enough, but lost in thought as he is Dale has to double back more than once. He eventually finds the temple and steadies himself before entering.

[Panzersharkcat]

(OOC: Duly noted, then. Since I missed the edit window by quite a margin, going into a bit more on the decimation thing. The overall purpose of what I was trying to do was deconstruct the idea of The Spartan Way as an ideal system for training whole armies. The overall effect would be, "Congratulations on your oh-so-brilliant training methods. You now have an ridiculously tiny army and are absolutely shitty at projecting power because the rest of your recruits either die, get severely injured, or end up massive psychological wrecks and because your losses in battle cannot be replaced quickly.")

[Eleventh Century Remnant]

I'm using an older version of IE that craps out from time to time, keeps losing posts- anyway,

The staff is of great interest to Maker Wright, who takes it, goed a little glassy eyed for a moment, says 'Incredible. It's almost your department,' to Dale, 'the priest who bore this is dead now, but he made a record of what he saw and understood when he was down in the fortress- a legacy of, of information, of design- he was very hungry and not thinking well, but this could be a key, a cornerstone of something, something old made new again. I don't know how to thank you.' he adds to Larric.


Andrea is having her shattered thighbone reset; there's a hideous smelling concoction, some kind of bone glue- or gloo, as it was originally Orcish- daubed on it and then the splinters fitted together. Most of the flesh has been peeled back, and there is going to be some interesting reconstructive work to be done. She's drifting in and out of consciousness- from the dents in the bits of armour they've had to peel her out of that's the main injury, there must be a few others.

The sherriff is not happy, but under the circumstances it's hard to see how he could be. He says to Alfred 'The messages arrived to close together, order, counter- order, disorder. Accidentally paralysing the Baron with that telepathic thing didn't help. You were played for a fool, expect everybody to be telling you this, and there was a blood price for it that you were lucky not to pay in person. Is this an end of it- what are the loose ends?'


The guild tower, and a conclave is claving noisily away. Lisanna is there, and there is a lot of toing and froing going on, as it is unclear who is asking questions of whom. Each party is trying to give the other advice, and they're both taking it badly; groping towards some kind of working relationship, trying to be polite, trying to pretend they don't have deep misgivings.

Looking at it this way; Lisanna Harrivell is very young for the job, her background is extremely dubious- hedge wizard taken in and apprenticed to a renegade archmage (Hilarion); she's a largely instinctive sorceress, some formal training but largely overlaid on a natural tendency to improvise, and with very little caution; known to be associated with an out and out rebel; the existing guild recognise that she is a rising star, but they are almost all very uneasy about having her as chief magical adviser to the Baron.

As Larric arrives, Tesius is asking her 'Could you at least pretend to make some concessions towards established best practise?'


Graveyards are strange places for a priest of Dnor- there are so many wards hanging in the air, squint slightly and it looks- and feels- as though you're walking through cotton wool. Usually in various states of repair, too- some old and faded as the bodies they protect are almost entirely gone to the soil and beyond living memory, some fresh and defiant, others- ther's a sharp discontinuity, and something jarring, spiky, burred.

The place itself is familiar enough, there's a patch of grass there that Dale remembers vividly- a previous incident, an amateur with a pamphlet of gibberish incantations trying- badly- to raise the spirit of a recently deceased relative to demand something to do with a will; under that patch is where the amateur necromancer, in their turn, was interred. Sad memories; shouldn't have been necessary. Idiot should have known better. Sword blade cutting through a face.

Happier memories of the light coffin of an old man, a long life well lived and a well earned afterlife, and a wild wake- the antidote to gloom, the celebration of the life of the departed. Sense that the old man was looking down and smiling.

Stopping the living from bothering the dead, and the restless dead from bothering the living, and watching the ways between the two. Debate and decisions.

There is someone else there, someone in among the wards, in the obscuring, veiling blurs of them. Watching, not speaking. Actions?

[Simon_Jester]

The guild tower, and a conclave is claving noisily away. Lisanna is there, and there is a lot of toing and froing going on, as it is unclear who is asking questions of whom. Each party is trying to give the other advice, and they're both taking it badly; groping towards some kind of working relationship, trying to be polite, trying to pretend they don't have deep misgivings.

Looking at it this way; Lisanna Harrivell is very young for the job, her background is extremely dubious- hedge wizard taken in and apprenticed to a renegade archmage (Hilarion); she's a largely instinctive sorceress, some formal training but largely overlaid on a natural tendency to improvise, and with very little caution; known to be associated with an out and out rebel; the existing guild recognise that she is a rising star, but they are almost all very uneasy about having her as chief magical adviser to the Baron.

As Larric arrives, Tesius is asking her 'Could you at least pretend to make some concessions towards established best practise?'

Larric finds a doorframe to knock on- presumably he was able to just walk into whatever enclosed space the conclave was held in.

The alchemist smiles broadly, trying rather hard not to make any enemies right now, and he knows perfectly well that walking into a heated meeting is a good way to get everyone in the room angry at you. He's not nervous, though a bit of diffidence might shade into that. The words come out easily enough: businesslike, even though he's quite conscious of being surrounded by people with a better education (if nothing else).

"Your pardon-" in the tone of a question, and he looks around and sees a few wizards he probably hasn't already spoken with, "I'm Larric Smith. I'd come to make a start of getting my own standing made proper, would have done it months ago if things hadn't gone mad all over. Is this a bad time, would later today be better?"

[Panzersharkcat]

He attends to Andrea only briefly, whispering in her ear as he holds her hand, "Terribly sorry to have gotten you involved in this. I will find some way to make amends." He gives her a brief kiss on her hand and leaves to speak with the sheriff.
In response to the Sheriff: "Aye, I have been told this multiple times, including to myself. I shall make note of potential loose ends. Meanwhile, to the matter of why I have come to consult with you. Where does the law stand on the appropriation of any property of Captain de Berrey? As I shall be, at the very least, paying a heavy share of the wergild of the men who died this day, I seek to make the late captain do his part in compensating the victims of his crimes."
After the Sheriff gives his response, he'll find paper or parchment to scribble down any loose ends and to consult with the rest of the party on anything he may have missed. Mind you, this is a list of everything (well, at least trying to list everything) left undone from the very beginning.
-The men of the woods
-The civilians of the town de Berrey and his men were encamped in
-de Berrey's surviving men
-Ridebert's legal problems
-Rohal's whereabouts
-Informing people of the destruction of that monster producing place, if he hasn't already, unless it's not wise to mention it
-Elves solved, unless things have been forgotten
-20 Kataphraktoi Tagma* and the orc
-Lisanna's presence at Lillehammer
-Rescuing the boy de Berrey
-The town Alfred was encamped in
-General law and order stuff in de Berrey's land, including making sure Captain de Berrey's men don't go there to attack

(OOC: *My made up Greek name for them. In character will continue to refer to them as the 20th Cataphract Regiment.)