Knights of Salisbury

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Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.

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The Return from London

Spring of 488, our heroes are ambushed by bandits, and a pair of Saxon warriors while transporting the Saxon Lord Aethelhroed from London to Sarum castle to be ransomed. During the ambush, our Knights leave Aethelhroed unattended, and with the aid of two Saxon warriors he is able to escape, evading the search party that followed in pursuit and disappearing into the countryside.

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Gossip at Court

Year 488

“But I must say, it worries me! Attacking the Franks!
Don’t you think it is foolish, I say, and terribly dangerous?!
King Claudas has never lost a battle! What if the Franks
start invading us too, like the Saxons?”

“Wonderful, I say, to help Praetor Syagrius! And by
God, the cause is so just! Good for him.”

“The king is attacking the Franks! Well, I’ll say
I guess we will see some plunder next year! I hope my
husband brings me some of that French ribbon!”

“That’s what it looks like, but can the king be
attacking Cornwall! That duke has insulted him by
ignoring the summons too often. There can’t be that
many Irish raiding his coast!”

“Listen, darlings, the king is just training the new
knights with this attack, because there is a new Saxon
army pillaging up north. He’ll need veterans next year.”

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The White Stag

Year 488

The Lady Indeg has announced that she will marry the first man who can bring her a trophy of the White Stag. With her great wealth, and growing age, she is quite desirable to those interested in expanding their family wealth and status in the court.

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The Invasion of Frankland

Year 488

The Earl of Salisbury has called his knights to council, the decision: Remain with the King, or Invade Frankland with the Prince. The knights spoke, and the decision to invade Frankland has been made.

The Army is to serve for fourty days under the Prince, and will rally at the ports of Hantonne and Chichester to cross the channel where they shall meet with the roman forces that have been gathered by Praetor Sygarius, and do battle with the Frankish Hordes.

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Broughton Raided

Year 488

The Manor of Broughton was raid by a band of Saxon warriors while the majority of the Knights were away from the manor and fighting in Frankland. The armsmen garrisoned by Sir Simon prevented the worst of the damage to the manor, though with a lack of solid leadership the casualties were high to the armsmen.

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Gossip at Court

Year 489

“Having all these great dukes around every spring makes life here crowded!”

“Yes, but it’s not so bad this time, is it?”

“Don’t you think it’s bad news when they’re here? Another war? Are the Saxons going to come here again?”

“Listen, darlings, if it’s the king and the dukes, then no Saxons are going to get close to here.”

“Well, I’ll say that having all these men around is pleasure for some of us!” [everyone laughs]

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Summer of 489
"From the tales of Sir Maxwell..."

The summer of 489 found the earldom of Salisbury mustering troops as King Uther Pendragon had decided to bring to a close the question of the loyalty of Gorlois of Cornwall. Placed into the vanguard of the king’s formation, the contingent of knights from Salisbury fround themselves bearing witness to history as they looked up toward the hilltops surrounding their position and marveled as King Uther and his adviser Merlin rode alone toward the Duke’s much larger lines. Gorlois seemed assured of victory, until the king unsheathed Excalibur and bathed the positions of the enemy in an intense light, panicking Gorlois’ troops and throwing his noble entourage into a a state of frenzied worry which was most pleasing to the eye of a true man of Logres. There after Uther and Gorlois reached an accord, and no blood was shed that day. The army then turned northward to bolster the Duke of Lindsey’s stand against a Saxon incursion in the north. Our merry little band, near a brotherhood now in honest truth considering the amount of combat we’ve shared together was given the order to raid into areas of Saxon control, a task we began at once. During our first excursion we encountered a band of Saxon warriors, afoot and armed with great spears and lead by a single rider. Promptly Sirs Gregory, James and Simon spurred their chargers, unleashing the fury of their lance work upon the advancing enemy while Sir Miles and I positioned ourselves to charge the flank of spears so prevent any of the enemy who did outnumber our courageous company from attempting to surround our companions. Foolishly the leader of their troops and a group of his best men broke from their base host to engage Sir Miles and myself. In the ensuing melee our valor drove off the Saxons, while Sir Maxwell captured the enemy leader. Regrettably, our victory was without a storybook ending as one of Sir Miles’ men was killed, and others of his retinue were injured along with my squire Tolken. Most galling of all was the loss of Sir Miles’ private priest, carried off during the fray. Unwilling to let a civilized man of god to fall prey to whipped dogs, Sir Simon volunteered to escort the wounded men and our captive back to our main camp, as the rest of us ran down the surviving and broken remnants of the s]Saxon raiders. When we found them there was little fight left in them as we finished what we had begun, and discovered to our amazed delight that they had lacked either the time or the inclination to butcher their captive. Our remaining excursions were fairly peaceful affairs as first we raided and set about ensuring this area would be unable to provide further succor to the Saxon army. When we were ordered to return to Salisbury, flush with the success of campaigning it was with tales of a great battle to come next year ringing in our ears, as the Saxons had mostly avoided major clashes and Prince Maddoc seemed determined to finish next summer the job he had begun this year. Until next year, Octa and Eosa, until next year…

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Gossip at Court

Year 490

“Well I’ll say, isn’t that duchess a piece of something! I’ve heard she was just a peasant girl who Gorlois picked up because of her beauty. It’s all makeup, you know.”

“That’s a lie. She’s from noble blood going back thirty mothers. The Queen of the Land Under the Waves was her ancestress. That is why she is so pretty.”

“And have you tried to talk to her? Her household kept me away like I was a goblin or something! What presumption! I’m from queen’s blood too, way back.”

“Don’t you think there are more important things than gossip about that witch? That Saxon army, the one led by giants, is even closer! The king’s so worried that he has the whole army here!”

“But not just to guard us, dearie. They are going to go fight the Saxons and settle this one and for all. Don’t you ever talk to anyone but us?”

“Yes, of course I do. But don’t you think it’s too dangerous? What if he loses? We’ve lost plenty of times before, you know. Lose, win, lose, win, and then have men killed but don’t lose the battle. How does that work?”

“Listen, darlings, I am sure this will be the last one. All the dukes will be here. By this time next year, we’ll either be at peace or working as Saxon slave girls. But just go to Mass and pray for them instead of standing here and keeping us from talking about the duchess. Say, did you see the worn hem on that white satin outfit?”

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The Summer of 490
"From the tales of Sir Malcolm..."

490 proved to be a year filled with surprise and danger. The winter court at the end of 489 set the tone for the coming year in both personal and public ways. During the Christmas feast my attempt to make a courteous yet jovial jest in the spirits of the season seems to have upset Lady Gwiona’s sense of appropriateness, and the spirited girl slapped me in front of the earl’s assembled household. I’ll grant that the lass has a spirited and swift stroke, and it is my hope that when the Earl thinks highly enough of me to make her my wife she will pass those traits on to our children.
Sir Elad approached our little group of knights, informing us that we would be forming an eshield and that we would have to choose a leader. After some discussion it was decided that since Sir Miles and Sir James had been having difficulty finding common ground that I should lead this group into glorious battle when we marched to Lindsey.
Of greater significance so the Earldom of Salisbury was the unexpected return of Sir Beauford, aged through some kind of fae magics into a man seemingly past his fortieth year, with a son grown into the flower of manhood following in his wake. Claiming to have been lost in the fae lands and having been pursued by the wild hunt, Sir Beauford had returned to place his son into lordship of Broughton. Sir James seemed worried the youth might be some form of changling and got into a rather heated argument with Sir Miles about what means and methods could and would be appropriate to ensure the youth was free of fae influence, coming to blows in front of court. Sir Simon objected to giving up his stewardship of Broughton to an unknown outsider and challenged the youth to combat by trial for the holding. The youth gladly accepted, and the earl knighted him before the court as Sir Gerald to ensure the appropriate social conventions were observed.
When the duel began Sir Simon rained down numerous light blows upon Sir Gerald, almost as if he was simply trying to show the youth that his skill was so superior that Sir Gerald should simply resign and accept the inevitable. Yet, even as blows slipped past his sword, they glanced off of his shield, or skittered off his breastplate. Sir Simon, seeming frustrated in spite of his great skill, eventually brought a mighty blow down on Sir Gerald as if to cleave him in twain only to watch the steel in his snap with a ringing sound at the hilt when it crashed down upon the shoulder of Sir Gerald’s armor. Stepping back, Sir Simon called for another sword. I handed him mine hilt first and the duel resumed, with my sword doing no better and it soon snapped when Sir Simon drove it’s forge hardened tip at the wolf and Ivy filigree covering Sir Gerald’s breast. Sir Simon then changed tactics, launching himself forward beating at Sir Gerald with his shield before Sir Gerald’s sword slipped past his frenzied defenses, leaving him unconscious on the ground. Sir Miles tended to their wounds, bringing Sir Simon back from death’s door and tending to Sir Gerald, who had taken quite a beating despite staying on his feet. With Sir Gerald victorious in his claim on Broughton, I found a place for Sir Simon among my retinue as but for the grace of god, I could find myself in such a situation. Perhaps it is a concern only those of us who came up as household knights can fully understand.
After the snows melted and the warm breath of spring once again touched our lands, we were summoned northward, each of us with our retinues to take the Field at Lindsey. Formed up across the no man’s land between the two great Armies, we found ourselves standing in the center of our forces with King Uther. The army’s right flank was formed of and led by the duke of Silchester and a large number saxons, while our left was led by Gorlois, our almost foe from the previous summer. Arrayed before us were the forces of Octa, leading the saxon center. Sir James mentioned that the enemy arrayed against Gorlois was Eosa, Octa’s cousin rumored to be so large that there was no horse yet born who could bear his bulk. We had time for a quick prayer the lord of battle that in his infinite mercy and understanding that if we should fair to call upon him in battle for him to be understanding in the stillness before the charge was sounded, and then spurred our horses forward, to where Octa’s battle line was being reinforced. Our first foes charged at us from their lines, mounted atop steeds and dressed in colors somewhat familiar from our time in the fields of Frankland. My companions did well, although my own lance snagged before the clash of our lines and a rider drove his lance square into my chest. While my armor held, I could feel my ribs creak and groan under the strain as I fought to keep my seating. Sir Simon was caught in the fray and separated from our unit at this point, and his squire went to find him. Even with his loss though, our unit came out on top in our swirling engagement.
Continuing to press onward we angled our horses toward a group of furiously engaged Wotansmen we were able to catch sight of additional enemy reinforcements pouring into our area like a torrent bursting through a dam. The fighting was brutal, as I caught a lance through my shield as we closed to engage and the enemy fought with an unmatched fury, striking brutal wounds with their great spears while calling upon the blessings of their pagan gods. It was here that one such beast thew himself upon my stalwart chirgeon, driving his spear through his middle and pinning him to his saddle. Again, though sad though our losses were the Wotansmen suffered more. I tire of my tale for now and will seek something to soothe my parched throat. I will resume my tale shortly…

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