Sir Gindle's Tournament of Thierulf's Gauntlet

Aftermath

Below is listed some information about what happened in the time immediately after the Tournament for many of the Knights present at the Tournament, including the host Sir Gindle. The Aftermath is still open for entries, if you are one of the players who entered a Knight, but has not yet entered an Aftermath.

Sir Gindle:
Sir Gindle looked across the force he had gathered. His troops fought hard in the Empire, and had helped hold Zundap for 13 days. His Standard Bearer Sir Darrius d'Fin was already at the front lines with a host of Knights and Men-At-Arms, and now his duties as host of the Tournament were done, Sir Gindle would ride to join them with a fresh army of reinforcements.

Giving the order to move out, Sir Gindle rode to the front of his column, and the march to the Struhelspan began. They would march at the double, and hopefully arrive in time to aid in the defence of that most important of bridges.

As the hours passed, and the morning turned to midday, and the midday turned to the dusk, Sir Gindle remained silent. His thoughts were dark, in truth, he did not expect any of those marching with him to survive the Storm. The Enemy was too great and too numerous to survive, but even so, they would give their lives in the hope of stopping it. Of course, Sir Gindle himself would most likely survive, for that was his curse and his blessing.

His thoughts turned to how he had come to how he was. His search for the White Shroud has taken him far and wide, but never has he been so close to success as when he had heard rumours of its existance in a small, abandoned and out-of-the-way Grail Chapel deep in Bretonnia. He searched for, and eventually found the Chapel.

Entering the building, the noble Bretonnian found the interior to be ruins. The roof had collapsed, and the cobblestone floor was strewn with creeping vines and grasses that poked through the cracks and moss that grew on the cobblestones themselves.

However, amongst the ruins lay an ornate altar, upon which lay the White Shroud! Sir Gindle, throwing caution to the winds, rushed to the Shroud and grasped it in his hands, exhilerated to have finally succeeded in his quest. But alas, it was not to be so, for the Shroud was not the White Shroud, but a Cursed Shroud crafted by the witch Myrel, who had spread the rumours herself to ensnare Sir Gindle int her trap.

Upon touching the Cursed Shroud, Sir Gindle was immediately struck by the foul magics within. The powers worked to undo him, to slay him with a wave of Black Magic. Collapsing to the floor, Sir Gindle fell unconsious as the Dark Magic worked its terrible purpose.

That was not to be, however, and Sir Gindle did not die that day. Myrel had chosen the location for the trap badly, as it was within a Grail Chapel, where the Lady's power is strongest. The protection the Lady's power gave him saved Sir Gindle, but at a great cost. His body was destroyed, but his soul survived and now inhabits his gilded Armour, allowing him to move as if it was his body. Unable to feel pain, and with no vital organs to pierce, Sir Gindle became a warrior of even greater skill.

Pulling himself away from such thoughts, Sir Gindle realized it was now almost midnight. Calling a stop to rest and recover from the hours long forced march, Sir Gindle looked over his forces as they set up camp for the night. He would not allow them to die in vain, he swore to himself, and would not fail them. He would fight alongside them to the last.

As he readied himself for sleep (for he still needed sleep, despite his current state), his last thoughts were that Chaos would feel the wrath of Bretonnia, and be washed away from the earth like the stain they truly are.

Baron Theduran Joliet:
A slight smile flickered across the face of the elderly baron as the closing words of the joust left Sir Gindle's lips and echoed across the field. For three days since his honorable dismissal from the joust he had watched as the final knights had vowed for the blessed icon, their youth and vigor flowing in thier veins. Perhaps, he thought, one of them might even take up the Quest one day and be visited by the Lady of the Lake as he had so many years ago. Now, dressed in ceremonial garb bearing the silver sword of Carcassonne, he sipped wine from a chalice, and daydreamed of the days when he might at last retire to his estate and let his family dote upon him like an elderly child. Across the field, Baron Gaston stood in his stirrups, raising his shattered lance above his head in victory. As Theduran stood to applaud, soreness overcame him and he was forced back into his seat. Along the rows of wooden seats came the now honorable knight, Sir Jason de Chateau Guest. "Sir Jason!" shouted the old knight, beconing to the empty seat adjacent to himself, "come, sit and chat with an old man." Sir Jason had barely sat down when a crowd of wooing ladies and grinning nobles swarmed over him. Theduran grasped him by the wrist as he rose to meet the crowd, and whispered sucinctly in his ear, "Remember, the best of the kings, rulers and warriors met thier downfalls not at the lance, but at the combined arms of their ego and their arrogance." Sir Jason rose, a look of question coming over his face at the remark and Baron Theduran had gone.

The rest of the night was spent at the outskirts of various parties celebrating the victory of Baron Gaston. The most joyous of these was the personal party of Sir Gindle in the town hall of the nearby city of De Metz. Much wine was taken and the festivities wore on deeply into the night. As the knights and nobles made their way back to their pavilions for rest, a sense of unease overtook the old Baron. As he rode his horse along the dirt and gravel road back to the jousting arena, an eerie figure appeared on the road ahead. As he neared it, the figure came into view. Upon a black horse with glowing emerald eyes rode a knight clad in a black robe. Upon his shield was the image of a crimson dragon wrapped around the silver sword of Carcassonne. Above it's head were emblazoned the two white fleur-de-lies that held apart the house Joliet from the other familes of Carcassonne. Rearing upon it's hind legs, the horse bounded off into the woods, another glimpse at the horrific fate of his eldest son.

The moon was full and high overhead as he returned to his pavilion that night. No sooner had he laid to bed then a servant boy no older than 12 came running in, out of breath and clutching a roll of parchment in his hand. "Sir!" the boy cried, "urgent news from the king, you are requested in the Imperial Province of Middenland no later than by the 1st of the coming month!" Rising to his feet, he jerked the scroll from the boys hands, scanning the page twice over before bolting from the room and bounding onto his unsaddled horse.

"Have the pavilion packed and at Chateau Joliet in two days time," he shouted back at the boy, tossing him two gold crowns from his belt purse. "You may have five more if it's back in one." A squire toddled out of a nearby tent, holding a leather belt and mace wrapped in linnen and tossed it to the knight. Within twenty minutes, no trace was left suggesting the baron had ever been there.

Lord Nike:
The music and laughter filled the evening in Lyonesse. The joust for Duke Thierulf's Gauntlet was over. Lord Nike walked out of the festival hall into the star light sky. His cleanly polished field plate armour shone in the moonlight. Lady Marian, his beatiful wife by his side.
"How will our son fare?" Lady Marian interupted the sound of silence. "Word is, that the armies had to abandon Zundap and fall back to the bridge of Struhelspan. Where the legions of Evil are continuing their assaults with an enormous ferocity".
"Oh, no!" Lady Marian replied with a singe of fear in her words. "Do not worry dear" Lord Nike soothed her "Word is that Jopper, our son, has won every battle against him and do not forget that some of Bretonnia's finest Grail knights have accompanied him".
With those words still lingering in the air, an errant came hastily towards the couple.
"Lord Nike! Lord Nike! It's your son"
"Oh, no what has Pimmo the Grey been into now?" Lady Marian replied. "No the other son, Sir Jopper has been taken captive by foul greenskins" the errant answered.

Immediately Lord Nike turned to his wife and said "this is the moment we dreaded, I must leave at once."
Lady Marian nodded and replied while a small tear ran down her pale skin "Do be careful, my love"
"and get those stinking sons of whores" she added with a fury Lord Nike seldomly witnessed before.
"Errant, there is food and drink in the festivity Hall, go and refresh yourself" Lord Nike ordered
Then turning to his wife "Darling, I am always carefull, and I will fly on my pegasus like the winds"
His wife turned to Lord Nike and said: "I have a better idea" And with that she took Lord Nike's arm and lead him to one of the stables in the back.
An eery sound came from within. As Lady Marian opened the stable door, the huge beak of a Hippogriff turned towards her.
"Her name is Éolienne" and she is my gift to you in your quest against Chaos".
Lord Nike embraced his wife while Éolienne stepped back as if the creature knew this was a special moment between the two.
After a too short a moment Lady Marian stepped towards the hippogriff and whispered something in her ear. The Hippogriff let Lord Nike sadle her and Lord Nike mounted kissed his wife goodbey for the last time.
Lord Nike, now on his new mount took to the sky and soared high.
"Hold on little Éolienne I still have to say goodby to the lords and ladies of the court, not to mention Sir Gindle"
With that the creature made a sharp turn left and dived towards the festival hall.
The crowd of peasants scattered all the ways with the sudden entrance of Lord Nike on his new Hippogriff.
The ensuing chaos almost ruined the evening if not the valiant knights and men at arms weren not quick to react and keep the crowds under control. "Sir Gindle, knights and ladies, I must dash off towards Struhelspan as my son Jopper has been take captive by foul orcs. I thank thee for your hospitality and for a great joust. When things have settled in the east I will return and will then seek an entrance in the Tome of Lords if you, sir Gindle will allow me to".

With that Lord Nike took the air and quickly speed towards the east, towards Struhelspan.

Ascoyne Hercule Achille du Bois Guilbert, Marquis d’Ascoyne:
The Marquis watched as the final Joust was completed and he cheered for both men. "By the Lady seeing so noble warriors in contest does make my heart palpitate".

His Entourage were busy chatting up the entire Tournament. His wife was speaking to a group of noble Ladies; his eldest daughter AndreaLyn was in conversation with two young barons and Cobina, his eldest daughter was bartering for a small knife from a knight. The members of his household [plus six advisors and their respective ladies] were busy gossiping amongst themselves.

It was a sad day to be ignored, he thought. Maybe they are testing me. Thought the Marquis. "Methinks that next Tournament I shall ride to lists completely naked!" "That’s fine dear, just keep your head covered", said his wife as her group of ladies headed for the Market. "I shall ride with the Holy Iron Flounder of Lipshitz in hand!" he said. "Papa, I am going to go riding with Baron Pomay" announced AndreaLyn as she passed by her father. "Of course I shall be atop my fierce War Bunny Cuthbert-" They’re not listening he thought. "Cuthbert?". Said Cobina holding a rather unique bladed knife, "Cuthbert?" and she went away shaking her head.

He found himself in the center of his group familial. Each faction drifting away from him. He chuckled to himself. "Oh well this was my LAST tournament", he said resignedly. Every family member froze in their actions and as one turned to face the pater familias of the du Bois Guilbert house. "Oh go on about your business, I am to the alehouse to meet my fellow knights, congratulate the warriors and enter into the festivities."

All but the Lady d’Ascoyne resumed their business. "Pray is it true, no longer must I worry of that ancient and venerable conk of yours getting bruised?" He husband of fort some years nodded. "It is true, my dear-although it is not my ‘conk’ that gets bruised." She laughed and their was music in her laughter. She loved the old campaigner so. He gave her some coin to spend and headed for the alehouse.

Now he had provided cheeses and brandy, breads and fowl for the banquet. His generosity was not self serving. The Marquis d’Ascoyne was generous to his friends. Just a quick bite and some brandy and talk about the Chaos incursion to the North and East.

The Marquis gained valuable information regarding the Storm of Chaos descending on the Empire and he knew it was time to stand against Chaos. He knew he could field two forces, One from the Sentinel, his fortress and one from the Collegium. And he would not have to return to the Carcassone to gather his men. They had followed him to Lyonesse and moved to Couronne. Within five days he was leading his forces to War.

Sir Jaison de Chateau Guest:
Early the next morning Sir Jaison awoke with a sore, seedy head from a great night of partying with his fellow knights. Sir Jaison left immediately, eager to get back to the Forest of Chalons, his beloved Chateau Guest, and to protect his loyal subjects from the menacing dark shadows of Chaos that were building on the horizon. These are drastic times and with many unexplainable things becoming the norm, there was much training, building and hard work to be done in the estate if they were to protect themselves.

Baron Gaston le Byron:
As the music played in the Hall of Sir Gindle, Baron Gaston sat thinking of a great deal many things. He did however enjoy many of the festivities diversions. He looked up as two slender figures approached, both in regal blue dresses, and shining blonde hair. Not even the Baron would be able to tell his own twin daughters apart if not for Amity having always one long braid, and Elena letting her hair flow freely. When they got to where he was seated, he stood up, and walked with them to one of the castles many balconies. Outside the music was not so loud, and the night air was very refreshing.

"What troubles you, Father?" Amity asked. Baron Gaston did not reply right away but thought about his answer first.

"Many things trouble me, my Daughter." He then turned out over the balcony to the northeast. "The war with Chaos is most disturbing, and even though I have you and your sister to help me command my army from the safety of this joust, I would rather be there to fight it for the Lady."

“This is not all is it?” Elena inquired.

“No, no it is not.” He responded. “During the parade a Lady gave me a tress of her hair, and with Her blessing, I was able to win this Tournament, but that’s not what bothers me so.”

Elena looked up at her father, “It’s been six years since our mother was taken from us, by Dark Elves, and you have to let her go, its okay to love again.”

“I know, but there is more to her than we know. I am drawn to her like a moth to a flame.” The Baron mused. “Maybe I will go speak with her.” With that, the old knight returned to the feast. With one face in his mind, he began his search for this unknown woman. He had only seen her once, but that face was burned in his mind. “Who was she?” He thought to himself. “I know I’ve seen her before.” It was with that thought that he spotted her. He stopped to study her in the main hall. She had no markings to say if she was part of anyone’s house or family. She sat in a fine Elven dress, and the look of a queen. But at the same time there was a scar across her check. Gaston walked over and sat beside her. But before he could say anything to her she spoke first.

“I am glad you have come back to me. It’s been a long time Gaston.” She said softly. With that he could not believe who that voice belonged to.

“Charlotte?” He whispered.

“Yes my dear.” She responded.

“But how, you look so different, we though you were dead.”

“After you left the town to fight the Elves, they sent a small force to take slaves. I was taken to a slave camp over the ocean. I don’t know exactly where, but a few years ago it was liberated by a High Elf force, to reclaim their brethren. I was taken back to the island of the Elves. Badly wounded,” She pointed to the scar on her face. “And very weak from the years of slavery I had to stay there to heal my body. While there I was able to study Magic from the Elves and only now was I able to come back home, but when I reached home, I found that you had left to compete in this Tournament, and came as fast as I could.” Baron Gaston sat there in disbelief, wanting this to be true, but at the same time it was too good to be real. Charlotte then grabbed his face and held it up so he could look straight into her eyes. As he gazed into them he found the hint of his wife that he needed to see. Gaston then embraced his Lady for the first time in over six years. It was a feeling he thought he would never feel again.

“This has been one of the best days of my life, but there are people dieing in the empire, and I don’t feel right being so happy.” The Baron held his wife by her hand and stood up. “Our son fights the war for us in the north. Its time I take command of my own Knights.”

They walked back to the balcony where he left he daughters. “I have great news for us all, but I can tell you on our trip we must get our steeds and ride to the north.” As he started to leave to go to the stables Charlotte grabbed his arm.

“I have a better idea. Stand next to the girls, and be very still. I can take us there in one instant.” As the Baron moved into his spot Charlotte started to chant and her voice became very different and stern. And in a few moments there was a bright flash of light, and then all four were gone from the castle.

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