Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romance. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

Lady Duddug ferch Gwair, a lady of King Aurelius Ambrosius's court (King Arthur Pendragon)

As always thanks to my patrons Jaina Bee, Darius, Casey, Dave, Ferny, aqnd Keeper!  If you'd like to support my RPG writing and streaming, please donate however much you are able to and want to at my Patreon.  Thank you so much for your generosity!


Lady Duddug ferch Gwair

Glory: 169 (Non-knight)
Age: 21 in 480 (b. 459)
Physique:  Heavyset and sure
Personality:  Hedonistic, permissive, always busy, invested in her community and somewhat uncaring of others, slightly tomboyish, fiercely British
Style:  Casual, steady, clever
Coat of Arms:  Barry indented the one in the other vert and purpure, a bend sable


SIZ 13 (134 lb.) DEX 14 STR 10 CON 15 APP 17
Damage 4d6 Healing Rate 3 Movement Rate 2 HP 28 (unconscious 7)
Family Characteristic
Good with animals (+5 Falconry, +5 Horsemanship) Wealth  Ordinary
Distinctive Features Chuckling voice, motherly touch, quiet challenge in her eyes Hair  White Eyes  Amber Culture: Cymric Homeland Venta, Logres [Caerwent]
Religion British Pagan Father's Class Man-at-arms Family Wealth  Rich     Daughter Number  Third Liege Lord Unit commander Current Class  Household
Current Home  Travelling with King Aurelius Ambrosius's Court

👰Chaste 0/20 Lustful 👰Modest 6/14 Proud 
👰Energetic 22/0 Lazy    Pious 13/7 Worldly
Forgiving 16/4 Vengeful         👰Prudent 12/8 Reckless
Generous 7/13 Selfish         👰Temperate 7/13 Indulgent
👰Honest 15/5 Deceitful Trusting 12/8 Suspicious
Just 11/9 Arbitrary Valorous 9/11 Cowardly
Merciful 13/7 Cruel

Gentlewoman 62/80 Religious Bonus:  needs +9 Generous, +2 Proud, +1 Honest


Loyalty (Lord) 17 Love (Family) 16 Hate (Angles) 16 Honor 10 Hospitality 9


Awareness 6 Faerie Lore 3 Heraldry 1         Recognize 5
Boating 0 Falconry 15 Hunting 3         Religion (British pagan) 5
Chirurgery 15 Fashion 2         Intrigue 5         Romance 1
Compose 1 First Aid 12 Orate 2                 Singing 6
Courtesy 5 Flirting 7 Play (harp) 5 Swimming 16     
Dancing 5 Folklore 2 Read (Latin) 6        Tourney 1
Distaff 10 Gaming 3


Battle 1     Sword 0
Siege 5 Spear Expertise 0
Horsemanship 3 Dagger 5



Gwair's lucky placement and quick arm earned him a gift from Lord Ventrius, Duke of the Saxon Shore dating back to when his Roman ancestors still thought Britain valuable enough to rule, when Gwair saved Ventrius from an unseen axe's bite at the Battle of Windsor in 473.  Lord Ventrius, technically Gwair's own lord thanks to King Aurelius Ambrosius allowing the Lord to marry the heiress of Caerwent, offered him the rare prize of a single, unlimited boon.

Gwair is a simple man, almost too simple for life in the 4th largest city in Britain.  He knew his life and wished not to change it overmuch for fear of upsetting his stomach, but he was no dullard.  Greatness was not his to bequeath upon his children by any means other than this one chance.  A mortal hand might be offering it, but Gwair could sense the divine Toutatis behind it.  One of his daughters, then, would have her fortunes improved by this means, but he could not choose among them.

Upon being given a choice in the giving of his gift, Ventrius looked over the three daughters presented him.  The first, Glenys, looked with hungry, expectant eyes whose haughtiness not even a Roman could stand, so she bore the slight of being passed over.  Arwydd, the second, the middle child, enjoyed her elder sister's misfortunes too greatly to be rewarded, while the youngest held her lord's gaze steady and smiling.

"You will choose me if you will, my lord," Duddug told him, "or you will choose one of them, the womanly Esus and Taran.  I do not think you are the type of man who will break your own honor by retracting the gift you have given, but all is possible while Gwydion yet remains about."

"And care you not for your fortune, then, as your two sisters do?"

"Whatever their flaws, my sisters know a sister's duty and a daughter's joy as well as I do, my lord, or nearly so.  Unless I have quite mistaken your nature, you will follow through with what you have vowed."  Her eyes slid down his body with a brief sensuality, "though I might grieve my eye's loss should you choose one of my sisters, to gift one of us is to gift all of us."

Impressed by one so Mercurial ~ a comparison she herself had invoked by mention of Esus and Tarantis, leaving herself implied to be a feminine counterpart to that very god who had moved the ebb and tide of the battle to place her father behind Lord Ventrius's back at the same time as the treacherous Saxon ~ Lord Ventrius named Duddug his own wife's handmaiden.

None expected Duddug to advance beyond that level.  Expectations are tricky things.


Lord Ventrius made many offerings to Asclepius the year before last, which wouldn't have been too unusual.  After all, his son Lucius was born that year.  Sadly, however, it wasn't the infant whom Ventrius was pleading with Asclepius to help.  His wife malingered in the very bed where she had given birth.  A deathly pallor had come over her skin and the sheen of sweat on her brow gave her face a pearlescent look.

The Lord of the Saxon Shore likes to imagine Philolaus among the gods on Olympus, smiling at the sweet smoke of the sacrifices, secure in having already sent his help.  Duddug, ever the faithful handmaiden, never left his wife's side but once.  The days stretched to weeks and even to months as the heiress of Caerwent fought heroically to win each breath, and always Duddug was there with a cool cloth and careful herbs gathered by the servants she so carefully instructed.

It was Duddug's constancy, imperviousness to exhaustion, and skill that pulled the Lady through.  In his gratitude, the Duke of the Saxon Shore petitioned King Aurelius Ambrosius to raise her position even further.  The King granted the petition, personally thanking now-Lady Duddug for ensuring that his gift to Lord Ventrius would bring joy and peace to the land for years to come.

Along with his goodbyes and wishes for fortune, Lord Ventrius gifted her with an old heirloom of his family's.  One of his ancestors had served as the flamen Portunalis under the Emperor Constantine, who had been crowned in Britain.  This was the emperor who first began to persecute the pagans.  This was the emperor who closed the Temple of Portunus in the Forum Boarium.  Lord Ventrius's ancestor sequestered away as many of the ritual objects and cult treasures there, including a box beautifully engraved with depictions of Melikertes Palaemon Portunus.  He wished that they not be defamed by the followers of an arrogant and jealous god.

These treasures came to Britain when the family did, and that box came now to Lady Duddug.  Home to a population of breeding pearls, its gifting was the one sign through Lord Ventrius's famously Roman gravitas that indicated how deep his gratitude for the Ventan town-girl ran.

Lady Duddug quickly made a home for herself in the King' court, embedding herself through bonds of honest work, playfully earthy sex, and just plain general friendliness.  The many diversions of the court, and their great difference from the city-life into which she had been born, have spoiled her somewhat, but her easy way well-balances that scale.

Sunday, June 24, 2018

Introducing Middens & Morals {Design Domingo #1}

“I must Create a System, or be enslav'd by another Man's;
I will not Reason and Compare: my business is to Create.”
--William Blake, Jerusalem: the Emanation of the Giant Albion, chapter 1, plate 10, lines 20-21, The Words of Los

Welcome to Design Domingo!

Yeah, I know, but I couldn't think of a good word to describe creating my own game system that alliterated without using the Spanish word for Sunday.  And I, like Tolkien and the Anglo-Saxon skalds he flattered with imitation, enjoy alliteration.  *shrug* It's a thing.

Welcome to my long-running Fantasy Heartbreaker project, currently named Middens and Morals.  I seem to mean something slightly different than Ron Edwards and many people by the term “Fantasy Heartbreaker”.  I tend to mean by it a homebrew RPG system that someone tinkers with on and off for years or decades, trying to get it just right.  Fantasy Heartbreakers are generally attempts to do “D&D but better” or (more rarely) “Exalted but better”; there are also a number of Sci-Fi Heartbreakers (“Traveller but better”), Cyberpunk Heartbreakers (“Cyberpunk 2020 or Shadowrun but better”), Gothic Heartbreakers (“World of Darkness but better”), and arguably every superhero game is some level of Supers Heartbreaker (sometimes they’re trying to improve on a better game, but just as often they’re starting from scratch).  They don't break hearts cuz of an old nickname of the Christian God or a much-newer Pat Benatar song (*sigh* Oh, Pat ~ I will always love you); they break hearts because they never quite capture what their creators are trying to capture with the elegance of design that is required of RPG mechanic design.  But, of course, that's not really the point, is it?  We ask ourselves questions that have no elegant answers in order to whet the blade of our thoughts, to shape the cup of our mind, so that when we do ask questions that have elegant answers we can speedily reach those heights that are higher than they could be if such was our first attempt at elegance.  They are sandboxes, where we can play and put things together and not have to worry whether the sand coheres into adobe that will last the centuries.

It's also, well, like that Japanese company that figured out that everyone's shit has tiny, tiny, miniscule amounts of gold in it (we already know what Freud would say, by the way) and that building a factory to separate out this gold from the stinky remains of Tokyo living which hid it from prying eyes would not only be economically feasible, but quite profitable.  This series of posts is the shit that has come about from all the RPGs I've consumed over the last two and a half decades or so of my life (since I was about 10 or 11) ~ I can only hope the gold is relatively easy to see among it.  And that the smell is the rich, earthy, fertile smell of a truly satisfying shit, and not the putrescence that flows from the SAD (Standard American Diet ~ no, literally, this is an acronym used by actual scientists and policymakers).

Man was made for joy and woe,
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
--William Blake, Auguries of Innocence

There’s a tension inherent in what we call the European Dark Ages or the (different) period we call Middle that fascinates me.  {I’m talking here about the general mishmash of memes in all of our heads, not the actual thousand years or so between the Fall of Rome and the onset of Early Modernity.}  It's a world beyond alien to us modern folk.  Basically none of the things we consider vital for mental health were present and available to the large mass of people.  Work was often constant and backbreaking and, although alienation of labor hadn't yet set in, taxes were high enough in crops, money, and men that we might consider a similar fruitlessness of one's labors to have pertained.  Nutrition was poor, flavors bland, and diet unvaried.  Feudalism is a system of rests on everyone in the social hierarchy lacking control of their destiny, and, in any view of the time period with even the slightest pinch of grimdark added, being subject to constant tests of loyalty and abusive manipulations by what we would now call warlords or gang leaders.  Disease was a constant companion, even without the Armageddon of plague.  You know how toothaches carry with them just the most intensely depressing emotional load in addition to their owie factor?  Not only would toothaches (and other such pains) be more common thanks to the undeveloped state of medicine, painkillers would have been unavailable or much weaker than we have today.  Transportation being much slower and recreational time being more limited (vacation?  What’s that?), seeing someone who lived even two miles away could happen but a few times a week, and long stretches of time were spent alone or in small groupings.  And therapy?  What’s that?

And yet, despite all of this ~ or maybe because of it ~ the cultures of the time were fascinated with rising up out of the muck, ascending into a Heavenly bliss.  Stories filled the pages and the ears with the quests of shining paragons of virtue and their striving to achieve and (harder still) maintain that exalted state.  Priests preached an honor that was an exacting discipline, and every effort was taken to maintain the image of the ruling classes fulfilling them.  Popular entertainment ~ books, poems, street entertainment, and theatrical plays ~ centered on questions of virtue in deed and in attitude, inventing the genres of the “morality play” and the “passion play”.  Characters in these plays often lacked identity beyond their role and/or moral status, with names like “Everyman”, “Pilgrim”, “Temptation”, and “Prudence”.  Religion was much more suffused into everyday life than it is now, a constant gaze above the clouds and past the Pearly Gates.  Careful attention was paid to one’s behaviors, thoughts, and ways of being to refine them in an alchemy whose methods ranged from the explicit and arcane (that is to say, alchemy itself) to the mundane and banal, but always to the goal of forging your soul into gold worthy of keeping company with angels.  Chivalry grew, ensconcing further the reign of the feudal warlords but attempting to bend it towards a Godly purpose to match its divine right of kings; Romance developed, in part, as what we might call Zeroth Wave feminism, lending a measure of agency to women in the grinding processes of what would eventually become heterosexuality.  Even (many of the) countercultures of the time approached things from this yearning for an angelic life ~ utopian movements even back then were explicitly attempting to build the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth.  The Diggers, for example, (ancestors of us anarchists, socialists, and communists) explicitly based their belief in economic equality in a passage from the Bible.  The same effect carries over to the self-consciously antinomian movements of the day ~ those Gnostic sects in this category were striving to achieve the glory of the Pleroma by breaking the rules of this earthly prison; even Sin could be found to be Virtue!  This is the time the Grail chose to be findable.

“I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, down throw and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression.”
--Dylan Thomas

I am fascinated by this contradiction.  All that is best in life and all that is worst in life all mixed up and blended together in Dung Ages stage strewn with the midden trash of what passed for civilization at the time.  This is humanity in its most distilled essence, the truest nature of what it is to be us.  So, I thought, why don't I try to recreate D&D in its image, mixing in all the lovely off-the-wall fantastic elements I can?