488: Sir Gerin Slain!

Gobrwy the Bard sings:

Woe and sorrow
it cannot be!
The Story ends
for the Squires Three!

First there wert Gwinas
brave and true,
who defended Lord Merlin,
but was run through.

Second was Llyr,
mighty Owein's son,
who slew the bear,
but at Kent was done.

Third and last
Sir Gerin wert slain
his cloak was torn
on the Soisson plain!

Oh Mannanan son of Llyr
and Raven Bran, who's Head Lies near,
grant these heros glory be
and remember their names for eternity!

Sons of Salisbury
heed the call:
To war! To war!
For Vengeance all!

The Legend of Gerin's Cloak

This cloak has seen countless battles as it has passed from father to son since the time of Ellyd of Salisbury, Sir Gerin the Giantslayer's great grandfather. Ellyd grew up, the son of a freeman; farming a small plot of land east of Sarum. Having a modicum of success as a farmer, Ellyd worked hard and ate well on his family's farm, growing to be both tall and strong.
Tired and bored of such a dreay life, he ran away at fifteen to join the Roman legion where he soon rose to the rank of Optio, in Rome's VI Legion, named victrix. Ellyd served his garrison along Hadrian's wall in York where he saw the begining of the Pictish and Saxon invasion.
Upon leaving the Legion, Ellyd returned to Salisbury to start a family. In the year 410 AD, with the words of his Emporor Honorius, "look to your own defenses," ringing hollow, he took off his Cloak of the Legion and swaddled his newborn son in it. Ellyd renounced his Roman citizenship, earned through his service in the Legion, and would never dawn the cloak again, but instead retired to his land where he taught his son the art of war while farming his small plot of land. This land would become known as Wylye Manor under his son's rule.
This Cloak of the Legion is made of heavy wool and has been dyed primary red. It has been patched numerous times, but has been meticulously maintained throughout the years. Gerin's family's greatest Heirloom, it serves as a reminder of Ellyd's taking up of arms in the Roman Legion and the rise of the family into nobility through their strength. A rare sight in modern Logres, this cloak's fiery red can be seen leagues away.
The cloak is fastened by its original Fibula, made in the classic crossbow design of its time. The bronze brooch has been equally maintained as the cloak itself, polished regularly, it's artisan quality engraving of a Bull is the envy of many a court. The bull, being the VI Legion's symbol, further reminds Gerin of the strength it will take to rid Britain of it's barbarian invasion.

487: The Sons of Owein Perish!

Gobrwy the Bard sings:

I sing a tale of woe this day,
no song of joy or merriment,
A Saxon curr hath taken away
two knights in far off Kent.

One was Sir Llyr, who slew the Bear,
the other, his brother Sir Fane.
Two sons of Salisbury, each to God's care,
no more to suffer our pain.

Away with Madoc ap Uther they stormed
by sea and river and beach.
Alas, at Dover the devils were warned
and two Saxons there were for each.

With strength of arm and God's grace
the brothers faught with might,
so that friend and foe, of either race,
dropped lances out of fright.

A Saxon dog named Hildebane,
an unsavory villein from hell,
snuck upon Llyr and then upon Fane
and struck each with wounds too fell.

And laughed did he this madman brute,
as the Brothers Two did fall.
Is there none among the sons of Nudd
who will heed the Vengeance Call?

This is a crop they may not keep,
these Saxon sons of whores:
For every Cyrmic knight they reap,
bury twelve Saxons in the moors!

Sins of the Father

The healer and priest told me bed rest was in store for me this winter...

They told me my wound would last longer than this winter...
They may be right about my scar, but this winter, I would not have time to sleep...

His grace, Earl Roderick granted my petition to be wed. Facing such dark times, I know our noble land needs many strong Cymrics to face the growing threat of Saxon invasion. Our torching of their boats will only slow their migration. And seeing the lives lost in our efforts, I know it is my duty to Lord Roderick to beget and train strong sons to continue the fight. On a quite sunday morning, I wed Maugelie of Shrewton, a young maiden of seventeen, I prayed that night that she would bear me many boys of hearty constitution...

Maugelie's dowry will serve me well, I will have to tour Shrewton Manor soon. Her father, Sir Arawain, may be an ally in court, but with only one living sister and no heir, I cannot trust in his family to aid me in battle or in protection of my new land. I guess he granted Earl Roderick's request, knowing my strong arm would protect Shrewton and his daughter in the coming days.
My wound healed quickly, but left a scar across my left eye, I touch it and remember my father...

I did not know before this winter that my hatred for the Saxons could be any stronger, but with each passing night, staring out into the rain, a fire grows in my heart. My dreams are haunted by that soulless savage who struck me down. I can see his face and know he is taunting me. He defeated me and then turned and slew Llyr. I will seek this beast out, this I vow. This fire I know will only be put out by my sword in a Saxon belly...

Gerin the Giantslayer
487 A.D. Wylye Manor

GM's Note: Near Total Party Kill!

I almost had a Total Party Kill (TPK) last night. If it weren't for Sir Gerin going unconscious at the last minute, I would have not only killed off all the major characters, but all the back-up characters as well!

It might have been a TPK +.