chretien
Fledgling Freddie
- Joined
- Dec 24, 2003
- Messages
- 1,079
I will get around to writing other stuff but I'm a lazy so-and-so and need to be poked before I'll set pixels to docfile.
Here are some character backgrounds in the meantime though.
The Story of Chretien and Ederillan
The carriage rolled at a stately pace through the clear Avalonian night. The driver, wrapped snugly against the pervasive cold, swore under his breath as faint sounds of distress and alarm carried through the still calm from the impenetrable distance ahead.
Rapping on the window with his rod he bent low enough to be able to call through to the interior.
“Looks like trouble ahead Milord.”
A slender and bejewelled hand waved unconcern.
“Drive on Aeolred, We’ll see what is the matter when we get there.”
Grunting his, not particularly enthusiastic, assent the driver resumed his position and unshipped a sturdy crossbow from the thick roll behind his seat.
Some distance further down the road, the source of the commotion became clear. A horse wandering aimlessly and limping from a deep gash in it’s leg was the only movement in the unfolding scene of tragedy. Nearby and just off the road, several people lay, very still and staring sightlessly into the clear sky. Aeolred cocked his crossbow and peered carefully from atop the carriage looking for suspicious movements from the surrounding scrub. Satisfied that whoever had been responsible for the slaughter was no longer in the area he hopped down and began to inspect the bodies of the unfortunates. Behind him the door of the carriage opened and one of the occupants stepped down. The man who appeared was tall and very slender, wearing the long flowing robes and mantle of a lay proctor of the church with a crimson sash and cap, he wore his wealth openly in the form of many jewels on his fingers, throat and chest. Grey-haired and stately he still moved with the grace and fluidity of a much younger man.
“Seems to be some kind of beast sir.” Aoelred said, turning over bodies with his foot to reveal the deep gouges and terrible wounds in the victims. “Poor beggars probably didn’t even see it pounce. Not a lot we can do here if you ask me sir.”
Suddenly he stopped and bent to inspect the body of a girl lying crumpled against a tree stump. He back was to the road as if she was trying to hide something and as Aoelred pushed her aside he saw what she had died to protect. A baby wrapped in a tartan blanket stretched into wakefulness and almost immediately began to wail. The driver reached down and picked the child up carefully whilst the still night was split with its shrieks.
“I’ll take that Aoelred.” The tall man commanded. “It needs to be warm and fed, Lady Amrie will see to it.”
Gratefully the driver passed the small but noisy bundle to his master and, taking a last glance around, remounted the carriage. The door slammed behind him and he drove on.
Inside the coach, the baby was the subject of much discussion. A richly dressed lady was holding it and trying to stop it from shrieking, whilst a small boy looked on with interest from beside her.
“We’ll try and find out who was riding through at that time and see if this little one has any kin, failing that the Church will have to provide for her welfare.” The man spoke distantly as though he was still thinking about the words he was saying even as he spoke them.
“What happens to people who don’t have mothers and fathers?” The small boy asked.
“Hush Chretien, the Church provides. They are looked after and brought up well.
“So we will hand her over to the orphanage then?” Amrie asked with a determined glint in her eye. “Deal with her like coins from the collection plate, when you know that Chretien will never have a brother or sister.”
Flapping his hands resignedly the man leant back in his seat.
“You know best dear, we’ll make arrangements.”
Some years later on a summers day in Avalon, a boy of about ten years and a girl younger than he but already bigger and stronger were playing together at the banks of a pool. They were catching frogs and seeing who’s frog could get back to the pond fastest.
“Father says I am to enter Ecumenical College next year” the boy announced apropos of nothing and with evident pride. “ I will be a bishop one day you’ll see.”
“I don’t know what I’ll be” the girl replied. “Perhaps I’ll be a soldier and guard Lord Ardribards castle from the Elves and the Trolls. Father hasn’t really said yet.”
“That’s because he’s not your father Deri!” the boy said nonchalantly. “I expect you’ll be a washer woman or work in Ardribards scullery like the other people without mothers and fathers.”
Ten minutes later Lady Amrie was washing the blood off the boys face while he sobbed into her dress.
“And then she hit me and she kept on hitting me and I hate her, she’s horrible. Why does she have to live here mother? Can’t you send her away? Make her live somewhere else. I don’t want to be a bishop! I want to learn to fight and carry a sword. I want to be a soldier!”
Lady Amrie rolled her eyes, she had been hearing this sort of thing more and more recently. Chretien was a tall boy for his age but, even by the standards of Avalonians, he had never been particularly strong. Ederillan however was different, her origins amongst the northern hillfolk showed in her rugged physique and ruddy complexion. Lady Amrie had long since given up trying to turn her into the ethereal and dainty creatures Avalonian debutantes were expected to be, instead she had encouraged her to follow her more martial interests and practice swordplay and hunting. With their fathers position in the Church, both had also been brought up in the Light and taught to worship and revere the power of Arthur’s Grail and the Light of Albion. It was his fathers resolve that Chretien enter the Church as his father had although, it was expected that he would take holy orders rather than become a lay official like his father. Recently though he’d been showing signs of jealousy at his sisters training and had taken to hanging around and watching her as she sparred with sword and shield. He’d also been spotted trying to emulate her training in secret and reading books of military adventures and tactical notes. Like it or no, his more warlike adopted sister was having an influence on him.
Later that night Chretien was summoned to his fathers study. Shelves full of books and scrolls lined the walls and a large desk covered in parchment, candles, sealing wax, quills and ink stood centrally. Behind it Chretien was astonished to see not only his father but also Lord Ardribard, a close friend of his father and a regular visitor to the estate. Usually though such visits were announced in plenty of time and the household busily made ready for such a distinguished visitor for days beforehand. No such word had been sent this time.
“Ah Chretien, my boy!” Lord Ardribard beamed. “You get taller every time I see you, I declare! Now then I’m told you’re looking forward to serving the Church. Marvellous my lad, simply marvellous. Well I have some news for you. You can either go to the Ecumenical College or your father has asked if you might be accepted as a squire to the Church. How would you like to train as a paladin my boy?”
Chretiens eyes shone, he knew that he didn’t want to be a bishop anymore.
Here are some character backgrounds in the meantime though.
The Story of Chretien and Ederillan
The carriage rolled at a stately pace through the clear Avalonian night. The driver, wrapped snugly against the pervasive cold, swore under his breath as faint sounds of distress and alarm carried through the still calm from the impenetrable distance ahead.
Rapping on the window with his rod he bent low enough to be able to call through to the interior.
“Looks like trouble ahead Milord.”
A slender and bejewelled hand waved unconcern.
“Drive on Aeolred, We’ll see what is the matter when we get there.”
Grunting his, not particularly enthusiastic, assent the driver resumed his position and unshipped a sturdy crossbow from the thick roll behind his seat.
Some distance further down the road, the source of the commotion became clear. A horse wandering aimlessly and limping from a deep gash in it’s leg was the only movement in the unfolding scene of tragedy. Nearby and just off the road, several people lay, very still and staring sightlessly into the clear sky. Aeolred cocked his crossbow and peered carefully from atop the carriage looking for suspicious movements from the surrounding scrub. Satisfied that whoever had been responsible for the slaughter was no longer in the area he hopped down and began to inspect the bodies of the unfortunates. Behind him the door of the carriage opened and one of the occupants stepped down. The man who appeared was tall and very slender, wearing the long flowing robes and mantle of a lay proctor of the church with a crimson sash and cap, he wore his wealth openly in the form of many jewels on his fingers, throat and chest. Grey-haired and stately he still moved with the grace and fluidity of a much younger man.
“Seems to be some kind of beast sir.” Aoelred said, turning over bodies with his foot to reveal the deep gouges and terrible wounds in the victims. “Poor beggars probably didn’t even see it pounce. Not a lot we can do here if you ask me sir.”
Suddenly he stopped and bent to inspect the body of a girl lying crumpled against a tree stump. He back was to the road as if she was trying to hide something and as Aoelred pushed her aside he saw what she had died to protect. A baby wrapped in a tartan blanket stretched into wakefulness and almost immediately began to wail. The driver reached down and picked the child up carefully whilst the still night was split with its shrieks.
“I’ll take that Aoelred.” The tall man commanded. “It needs to be warm and fed, Lady Amrie will see to it.”
Gratefully the driver passed the small but noisy bundle to his master and, taking a last glance around, remounted the carriage. The door slammed behind him and he drove on.
Inside the coach, the baby was the subject of much discussion. A richly dressed lady was holding it and trying to stop it from shrieking, whilst a small boy looked on with interest from beside her.
“We’ll try and find out who was riding through at that time and see if this little one has any kin, failing that the Church will have to provide for her welfare.” The man spoke distantly as though he was still thinking about the words he was saying even as he spoke them.
“What happens to people who don’t have mothers and fathers?” The small boy asked.
“Hush Chretien, the Church provides. They are looked after and brought up well.
“So we will hand her over to the orphanage then?” Amrie asked with a determined glint in her eye. “Deal with her like coins from the collection plate, when you know that Chretien will never have a brother or sister.”
Flapping his hands resignedly the man leant back in his seat.
“You know best dear, we’ll make arrangements.”
Some years later on a summers day in Avalon, a boy of about ten years and a girl younger than he but already bigger and stronger were playing together at the banks of a pool. They were catching frogs and seeing who’s frog could get back to the pond fastest.
“Father says I am to enter Ecumenical College next year” the boy announced apropos of nothing and with evident pride. “ I will be a bishop one day you’ll see.”
“I don’t know what I’ll be” the girl replied. “Perhaps I’ll be a soldier and guard Lord Ardribards castle from the Elves and the Trolls. Father hasn’t really said yet.”
“That’s because he’s not your father Deri!” the boy said nonchalantly. “I expect you’ll be a washer woman or work in Ardribards scullery like the other people without mothers and fathers.”
Ten minutes later Lady Amrie was washing the blood off the boys face while he sobbed into her dress.
“And then she hit me and she kept on hitting me and I hate her, she’s horrible. Why does she have to live here mother? Can’t you send her away? Make her live somewhere else. I don’t want to be a bishop! I want to learn to fight and carry a sword. I want to be a soldier!”
Lady Amrie rolled her eyes, she had been hearing this sort of thing more and more recently. Chretien was a tall boy for his age but, even by the standards of Avalonians, he had never been particularly strong. Ederillan however was different, her origins amongst the northern hillfolk showed in her rugged physique and ruddy complexion. Lady Amrie had long since given up trying to turn her into the ethereal and dainty creatures Avalonian debutantes were expected to be, instead she had encouraged her to follow her more martial interests and practice swordplay and hunting. With their fathers position in the Church, both had also been brought up in the Light and taught to worship and revere the power of Arthur’s Grail and the Light of Albion. It was his fathers resolve that Chretien enter the Church as his father had although, it was expected that he would take holy orders rather than become a lay official like his father. Recently though he’d been showing signs of jealousy at his sisters training and had taken to hanging around and watching her as she sparred with sword and shield. He’d also been spotted trying to emulate her training in secret and reading books of military adventures and tactical notes. Like it or no, his more warlike adopted sister was having an influence on him.
Later that night Chretien was summoned to his fathers study. Shelves full of books and scrolls lined the walls and a large desk covered in parchment, candles, sealing wax, quills and ink stood centrally. Behind it Chretien was astonished to see not only his father but also Lord Ardribard, a close friend of his father and a regular visitor to the estate. Usually though such visits were announced in plenty of time and the household busily made ready for such a distinguished visitor for days beforehand. No such word had been sent this time.
“Ah Chretien, my boy!” Lord Ardribard beamed. “You get taller every time I see you, I declare! Now then I’m told you’re looking forward to serving the Church. Marvellous my lad, simply marvellous. Well I have some news for you. You can either go to the Ecumenical College or your father has asked if you might be accepted as a squire to the Church. How would you like to train as a paladin my boy?”
Chretiens eyes shone, he knew that he didn’t want to be a bishop anymore.