Sir Llywell, Sir Orwaine and Thystle

Ahh, the poor Sir Orwaine. Growing up, Sir Llywell was strong and confident, always running around with his wooden sword, beating on some peasant or stableboy. With such an energetic eldest son, all thought Thystle would pass over Orwaine and make a great knight as the youngest; while the middle son, Orwaine having the make up to enter the Church would be shared a life of war. But when the Druids came a calling, they choose Thystle and thus Orwaine was destined to train in the Knightly arts, despite his sensitive makeup.
With Sir Llywell running off into the woods, ranting about home and hospitality; the Manor of Coleridge now falls to the Poor Weeping Orwaine...
A good son and good vassel of the child Bermaine of Up Avon, Son of Sir Cassius; Sir Orwaine will do his best to protect the County of Salisbury, but will his strength of character make up for his lacking strength of arms?

511 AD
The good Pastor Brugan

Lady Adewaine

Sir Llywell, slayer of Prince Cynric, sat drinking his mead. Twas a joyful court this year, 511, the boy, King Arthur sits upon the throne of Logres, the harvest was plentiful, and King Lot and his allies were beaten back last summer with little threat of repeating it this comming spring.
Sir Llywell, an almost-famous Knight, sat in the middle of the hall. Not yet a lord, but a man known for his strength in battle and for wielding a deadly axe. He enjoyed himself, sharing stories of valor and games of chance with other knight of his rank. His miscevious brother and Bard, Thystle the Magnificent was elsewere this winter, leaving Llywell lonely. For Thystle could always set a court ablaze with either smashing success or abject failure in his performances. The story of Thystle presenting Cynric's head at the climax of telling the tale of the Battle of Netty Marsh was still told on occasion. Of Sir Llywell's 1000 librum Blood Ransom the Saxons had put on his head. Of his cutting through four bodyguards before taking off Cynric head in one fell strike. But with no brother around this winter, Llywell was bored.
Bored, that is until a lovely youth lady met his eye one evening. Fresh from his successful hunt of a unicorn, Llywell approached the youth maid and asked her if she'd be interested in seeing the trophy he'd kept from the unicorn. Blushing at the sight of the horn, the Lady Adewaine smiled and took a liking to this knight from Salisbury.
And thus began the courtship of Lady Adewaine of Lambor by Sir Llywell of Salisbury.

GM's Note: The Blogging Age...sigh...

I hate blogging. There, I said it. I've never been good at this kind of thing; I've never even maintained a diary or journal. But I have gotten some complimentary emails about our game, and I'm grateful. I'm also grateful that Isaac, a player in the group, put some effort and gussied the blog up.

No worries, we're still playing and we're in year 512.

Don't worry, the blog will be updated...soon. :)

The Battle of Nettly Marsh

The spring rains came on time this year. I can't remember the last time this occurred, I must of been a boy at my father's side, before we realizd Thyslyee was special...
I've never seen Sarum so busy! Squires and pages running everywhere! So many Knights bearing the livery of so many different kingdoms. I did my best to just take it all in, not make a fool of myself at court, stay out of the many lord's way, prepare for my first battle this summer...
Too think, being knighted this past winter, just in time to fight alongside our future King, Nentalead! I got a chance to see him at court, he truely is a King among Men! Standing alongside Countess Ellen, I'm betting when we return home, victorious, a wedding will be announced.

Sir Llywell
Spring 508 A.D.

507: Woe to Salisbury! The Marshall is Dead!

To His Higness, King Nanteleod, Lord of Wales, in Carlion, be this lettre tayke.

My fryend to the northe, saviour of my son's county, it is wyth the utmoste sadness and horror that I relayte the news of the death of my son-in-law, Sir Cassius of Tisbury, Lord Marshall of my son's army. As you know, he wert wounded graytely by a cur knight of King Idris' at the Battle of Somerset Marsh and suffered for weeks upon his arrival here at Sarum. My owne daughter, the lovelye and goodlye Lady Jenna, his devoted wyf, tended to him personalye, but to no avayle. In the fyfth week of his internment, his strength left him and he rendered up the ghost to the bosom of Our Ladye in Heaven, Mother of Christ. He restes now from his long service to my son, Robert. Alas, my daughter is beset with gryf and hath byn taken unto seclusioun with the Queen at Amesburye.

The Lord Marshall's considerable holdyngs of Tisbury and Upavon have been granted to my grandson, Germine of the Fey, who wert knichted soon followynge his father's death. He is too young and untried to tayke up his fathyr's offyce, and as of yet I have not appointed a marshall. Know ye, goodly friend King, that my knights and soliders are ever at your disposal, and that I wish only for the continued friendship between the Kingdom of Wales and Salisbury.

With sorrow and hope,

Ellen of Sarum,
Countess of Salisburye