Excellent! Let's rewind the clock and begin our retro-blog series with your grandfather, Sir George of Hereford, as if he were just starting his own online chronicle back in the early days of the internet (or perhaps a very enthusiastic Usenet post!).
Tales From the Early Days - The Knighthood of Sir George
A Missive for the Ages - From Sir George of Hereford
Greetings, fellow adventurers and seekers of tales in ages yet to come! Should these humble words survive the ravages of time and find their way to your curious eyes, know that they are penned by George of Hereford, a knight who lived in the twilight of Roman Britain, when the echoes of empire still lingered amidst the rising clamor of a new age.
Imagine, if you will, a land wrestling with its identity, where crumbling villas stand as silent witnesses to a lost grandeur, and the shadow of the Pictish raiders stretches long across the northern hills. It is in this crucible that our story, the story of my lineage, begins.
I, George, was not a knight born to great fortune, but rather one forged in the fires of service. Years I spent as a man-at-arms, learning the grim dance of battle and the unwavering necessity of loyalty to one's lord. When the spurs were finally mine, they were earned through hard-won experience, not inherited privilege. Some, in their jesting, even called me "Old Knight" from the outset, perhaps sensing the weight of years I already carried.
It is the year of our Lord, perhaps some sixty or seventy winters since the great Emperor Honorius bid farewell to our shores. Britannia is a patchwork of petty kingdoms and ambitious warlords, each striving for dominance in the vacuum left behind. My own lord, Count Reginald, a man of stern virtue and unwavering loyalty to the nascent British crown (currently worn, however precariously, by the noble King Constantin), strives to maintain order and defend our lands against the encroaching darkness.
My own journey into knighthood was not one of swift ascent. Many years did I serve as a man-at-arms, learning the harsh realities of war and the importance of a stout shield and a well-honed blade. Yet, through diligence and a modicum of valor (a trait I strive to cultivate, though some whisper I am more… cautious), I was deemed worthy to take the oath and bear the spurs of a knight.
Allow me to present myself as I was in those early days, a testament to the challenges and the modest triumphs of a knight in a fractured land:
Sir George of Hereford - A Chronicle for Future Eyes
SIZ 11, DEX 8, STR 11, CON 11, APP 8
Move 2
Armor 10 + shield
Unconscious 5; Major Wound 11; Knockdown 11; Hit Points 22
Healing Rate 2
Damage 4d6
Glory: A hard-earned 2,500, each point a story in itself.
My skills lie primarily in the martial arts, as befits a knight of my station: Dagger (10), Lance (18 - a skill I confess to some pride in), Spear (10), and Sword (20 - my trusty companion in many a fray). I have also learned the necessities of Battle (18) and Horsemanship (18) to serve my lord effectively.
Beyond the clang of steel, I endeavor to uphold the virtues of a knight. Awareness (15) keeps me vigilant, Courtesy (15) aids in dealing with my peers (though my Appreance, alas, is but middling), and First Aid (15) is a grim necessity on any battlefield. Heraldry (15) allows me to discern friend from foe, Hunting (15) provides sustenance and sport, and Tourney (15) keeps my skills sharp in times of peace.
My heart holds a strong Loyalty (15) to Count Reginald, a bond forged in shared hardship and mutual respect. And though age may weigh upon my limbs, my spirit, I hope, remains Valorous (1d6+12).
My destrier, a sturdy Charger of middling size (6d6), has carried me faithfully through many campaigns.
These early years are marked by the slow but steady spread of the Christian faith, a matter of much debate and occasional conflict. The whispers of strange heresies and the clash between the old ways and the new often lead to unrest. Furthermore, the Saxon menace on the eastern shores grows ever bolder, their longships bringing fierce warriors who seek to claim our lands for their own.
The very fabric of Britannia was changing in those days. The whispers of a new faith, Christianity, echoed through the land, sometimes bringing solace, sometimes strife. And from across the sea, the longships of the Saxons brought a relentless tide of invaders, their eyes set on claiming our ancestral lands.
My service to Count Reginald saw me ride against the savage Picts, Pictish raiders from the north, patrol the Roman roads now falling into disrepair, and stand shield-to-shield in the retinues of ambitious kings. Each duty performed, each threat repelled, added to that intangible yet vital measure: in minor skirmishes against rival British chieftains. Each deed, each successful defense, adds a little more to my Glory, a measure of a knight's worth in these tumultuous times. It was upon this foundation, upon the deeds of a humble knight in a turbulent age, that the future of my family would be built, a future I could scarcely imagine as I dipped my quill in ink by the flickering light of a campfire.
The path ahead is uncertain, but a knight must do his duty. I shall endeavor to record further tales of my service and the unfolding events in Britannia as time and circumstance allow. May this humble chronicle serve as a testament to the struggles and the nascent heroism of our age.
May this account serve as a testament to the dawn of a new era, and the role of a simple knight within it.
Farewell for now, until the next turning of the page, from George of Hereford, a knight of the early days.
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