Arcaea/Dining Hall Late 08-09/Crispen's Craziness
The ship was tethered to the dock, and the gangplank was down, but most on board were still in their slumbers. A sailor watched the deck; he tipped his hat courteously as a lone figure came out of the cabins and headed for the ramp.
The lamp light revealed a young man. But, Oh! what a flower of youth! Short, golden curls topped this perfectly shaped head, and accentuated a pair of piercing blue eyes. The nose, finely tapered, lead one's gaze down to a pair of sensuous lips. A strong but still shapely rounded jaw finished this picture of perfection.
His dress was of the latest styles. His tunic was short in the waist, more than the current fashion, and yet one felt that tomorrow the tailors would be unconsciously altering the garments of their shops. Cut open at the neck with a square embroidered border, it revealed a mesh of fine hair that matched the color of his head. His legs were covered not in the loose pants still commonly found among men of the day, but rather tight silk hose that showed off their firm, muscular build; they were of two panels, the right leg completely white, while the left leg sported a green and gold diamond pattern. At the base of all this were shoes with impossibly long toes, curling up and back on themselves.
Here was a man that would find his way into any parlor, ball or gambling den. In short, here was a "fop".
Crispen breathed deeply the sea air.
"I say! That salt air does make one randy, wot? I suppose the brothels must be open, at least?"
He made his way down the plank and into town.
Crispen Namtrah (Noble)
With a final push, he piled the last of the dirt on top of the mound and sat down to survey his work.
"An excellent effort," he thought proudly. The mound, of pressed earth, served as a circular defense and protected the occupants from every direction. Inside, instead of the usual shallow trench, was a deep hole. This was what he had been working on virtually non-stop for the past five days, and was his chief source of pride. A long tunnel, tall and wide enough for him to run through without stooping or slowing, wound deep into the ground. Along the way were caves big enough to store several days of supplies, and even a sleeping area. A second exit emerged some distance away, camouflaged by a group of boulders.
"Yes, well worth the days and days it took to -"
His thought was cut off by a sharp pain in his back that jerked him forward. He tried to stand, but felt himself pinned to the ground. Helplessly, he twisted his neck to look at the lance protruding from his back.
"Demmed gophers!" Crispen said, hoisting the small rodent up into the air on the end of his lance. "Demmed holes everywhere, wot? Break a horse's leg, wot?"
With a flick of his wrist, he sent the mortally wounded creature flying into a group of carrion crows. Already sated from several days of gorging, the birds left the small carcass to rot in the sun.
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
"Belvedere!" Crispen shouted, "Come here, wot?"
The manservant hurried into the room.
"Belvedere, Sir Gosoi's letters, wot? Wrap them all around a dead gopher and return them, wot?"
"Very good, Sire," came the reply.
"Two hundred and twelve of the little buggers, wot? Got to get rid of them somehow, wot?"
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
Crispen whistled merrily to himself. It was good to be back in Remton, away from the dust and grime of that place...What was it called? Rempos? Rempus? Whatever. Dustbowl, no decent wine...
Speaking of wine, he'd managed to procure a bottle of Ozrat '98 from one of the looters, and was just taking it down to "The House" to share with his latest favorite whore. Nothing like ending the day with a good bottle and a good...
"I say, wot!" he stopped. "That's a demmed fine looking woman, wot?" He watched the young beauty exit the blacksmith's, lost in thought.
Changing course, he started to approach her when something made him stop. He saw her eyes light up, and then he watched in amazement as she jumped into the arms of a slightly tubby fellow and stared showering him with kisses.
"I say, wot!" he said, not sure what to make of the spectacle.
Shaking his head in a bewildered manner, he continued to "The House".
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
In the parlor of House of Silk and Light....
"So there I was, wot? Weighed down with bags of loot, 10 of the ugliest, hairiest monsters you never wanted to see in front of us, wot? A horde of 80 or 90 ghoulies behind us, wot?"
He held out his glass, which was quickly refilled by one of the girls.
"Oh, don't stop, Cripie, darling! Do tell us how you got out!" said a pretty young brunette, who, judging by the familiarity in which she lay her hand on his thigh, was his "favorite".
"Right-o," he said, savoring the flavor of the wine . "Get out, wot? Well you see, I noticed a small copse of wood about a hundred yards off, wot? So I had the boys..."
-
The people seem to enjoy your story, and you manage to raise their spirits. Morale rises by 5 % to 95 %.
-
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
Nickles read the letter with a look of dismay.
"Mr. Belvedere," he asked, "do you think I'm dull?"
Belevedere looked up from his inventory list and considered.
"Dull, "boring", or dull, "stupid"? " he asked.
The scribe faltered at this unexpected complication to his question.
"Well, either, really," he answered.
"Yes," came the curt reply.
-
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
Bored.
Bored, bored, bored.
For the life of him, Crispen couldn't figure out why they wanted to take over this dusty, rocky badlands in the first place.
"No brothels, wot?" he observed. "Boring, wot?"
He walked across the cobblestones of the main square in the little town where they had set up camp, watching as each step kicked up a small cloud of dust. He had to find...
He looked up sharply. He could swear he had just seen a light, delicate form climb into a carriage. He quickened his pace, searching for a glimpse of the occupant of the coach.
A finely tapered hand pushed open the curtain, and Crispen found himself staring into the face of a pretty young lass with light brown hair done up under a lacy bonnet. She started to see the golden-curled head looking at her so unabashedly, but then a mischievous smile came to her.
The hand disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a finely embroidered kerchief, which, without warning, floated gently to the ground as the carriage drove off.
Crispen picked up the perfumed offering and held it to his face. The initials "G vM" were surrounded by tasteful flowers.
"Ah," Crispen sighed contentedly, "a mystery, wot? With a happy ending, wot? The perfect distraction, wot?"
-
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
Crispen read the scouting reports and and felt a thrill go up his spine.
"brace for a fierce battle"
In less than six hours, he might be dead.
"Live life for the minute, wot?"
He finished off his goblet of wine in a single swallow, and set out to find the lovely "G vM".
-
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
"It's for Sir Gosoi," the messenger said, looking rather nervous. "From Sir Crispen's scribe, sir."
The steward took the misshapen package. It was his liege's letter, wrapped around something warm and squishy.
"Brotta," the steward sighed, "another dead gopher to dispose of."
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
"Right, mount up, wot?" said Crispen, riding up to the men. They gleefully followed his order.
"Change of plans, wot?...headed to Larm, wot?...Could be a battle, wot?... Need all the heroic types to help them out, wot?"
Crispen sighed. He wasn't even sure if there would be a battle. Skipping a perfectly good loot to help save the realm from disaster..."Well, never too old to try something new, wot?"
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
"Name?"
"Rudgar, Sire. From Saex," the new captain answered.
"Very good, very good, wot?" Crispen said, looking the man over. "Get the men ready to move out. I'll be at the brothel, wot?"
With that, he marched off toward the center of town.
Crispen Namtrah (Knight of Remton)
