What is the pinnacle of sorcery, magic, the arcane arts? After fifty-seven years of long, ceaseless toil, poring over hundreds of arcane volumes with single-spaced size 10 font, performing thousands of experiments, spending millions of silver, and suffering from a number five on the Hamilton-Norwood scale, you stole fire from the gods. You achieved that long-held dream of all wizards: the means of resurrection, eternity, immortality! Alas, thaumaturgy is not an exact science. The theoretical underpinnings of your magnificent enchantment had suggested a duality of spirit and flesh upon which you had staked your own life. Although that duality has been all but confirmed, its true nature has proved less transparent. You have indeed reversed your years. Your withered seventy year old body has been replaced with a youthful one, free of crow's feet, cataracts, and moderate to severe Crohn's disease. But where you had hoped to reverse fifty merciless winters, bringing you again to the peak of virile manhood, you seem instead to have reversed sixty, bringing you a second time into the midst of tedious boyhood.If that were the extent of your troubles, if you were still locked away in your tower with your tomes, and servants, and talking birds, it might have been endurable. But trickery of time and fate seems to violate reality itself, and in its amendment strange distortions may occur. Case in point: although you awoke again in a tower, it was not your own. Although you kept your face and even your name, it was at the expense of your history. And although you were (and shall ever remain) a wizard, you appear to have been recast as a squire in a house of meatheaded knights.It is now the third day since your resurrection (or metempsychosis, as the case may be). You have not adjusted well to this new life. Case in point: your current confinement in the bowels of the southeast tower, with only a chamber pot and a straw mattress for company. >What was the cause of your imprisonment?>Insubordination. You had refused to shine the boots of Sir Gideon, a visiting knight.>Theft. You had been caught trying to work the lock on the lord's strongbox.>Indecency. The lord's daughter claimed you had been spying on her in the bath.>Write-in
>>6155311>Indecency. The lord's daughter claimed you had been spying on her in the bath.
>>6155311>Indecency. The lord's daughter claimed you had been spying on her in the bath.>Write-in: And we admit to guilt entirely. When they caught us, we were standing in the middle of the bath, naked, with our fists on our hips, observing and admiring very intently the buxom form of our lord's daughter.
>>6155399lmao+1
You touch the slightly damp stone walls of your cell, mourning the loss of spells which could have blown them apart, or turned them into butter, or at least made them a little less damp. It still makes you bristle. Perfect virginity for seventy-three years, and the lord's daughter accuses you of indecency!First of all, you were not spying. Spying implies subterfuge. You were sitting naked at the bottom of the tub, attempting a spell of water-breathing, when Maryellene, the spoiled baby of the lord's brood, had decided to come in and bathe. She had slipped in so quickly, and you were so absorbed in your own meditations, that you had not even noticed her until her slender foot had savagely found the back of your head, at which point she had run off screaming bloody murder before you could express that you had seen nothing of consequence (not entirely accurate).Her maidservant had then dragged you (by the ear) to the chambers of your master, Sir Guillame, eldest of the Merovin clan, second in authority only to the lord himself, and doting brother to Maryellene. One sided explanations were conveyed, witnesses produced, testimony corroborated, pleas of innocence and misunderstanding swiftly ignored, and the suffering of indefensible humiliation by a young maiden established (nevermind that you were paraded sopping wet and naked through the castle). In short, you were to be detained.Detained without dinner, you might add, which the softhearted chatelaine found so harsh a punishment she had come down an hour ago to sneak you a loaf of fresh bread. You had, of course, refused. What is a single night without vittles to the memory of forty days fasting beneath the red desert moons? Then, your austerities had opened your sight to the realm of the changelings, demons of fire and light, secret beings without a fixed face or form. Now, you merely feel your stomach grumble, and a damnable craving for a bit of apple tart. Curse this childish body!You are finally released in the morning, only to be brought before the lord himself, freshly returned from his trip to the city, while he takes his breakfast. This is your first encounter with the man. You've heard that Lord Merovin earned the epithet of "Bear" when he was a young man for his great size and taste for honey-cakes. He seems to have only grown into the moniker with age, still hirsute, and with seemingly no loss of appetite or strength despite the passage of thirty years since he acquired the appellation. The other half-dozen or so squires are there as well. As is Maryellene, suddenly paused in her needlework. They wouldn't miss this for the world. "Have you anything to say?" the lord asks, popping a grape into his mouth. >Keep silent. It's doubtful the apple falls far from the tree.>Proclaim your innocence. It was a misunderstanding.>Confess. Yes, you were peeping. Sadly, you saw nothing of interest.>Write-in
>>6155460>Confess. Yes, you were peeping. Sadly, you saw nothing of interest.They won't accept our explanations. Take our lumps and get a dig in at Maryellene.
>>6155460>Confess. Yes, you were peeping. Sadly, you saw nothing of interest.
>>6155460>Proclaim your innocence. It was a misunderstanding.
>>6155485gay
>>6155460>>Confess. Yes, you were peeping. Sadly, you saw nothing of interest.
>>6155460>>Confess. Yes, you were peeping. Sadly, you saw nothing of interest.jej
"Like what?" you ask, for a moment forgetting your diminutive existence.The lord raises his brow ever so slightly. "A confession, perhaps?" the lord suggests."Will it avail me anything?""My dear boy, it will avail you of your honor."Ah yes, honor, the watchword of the halfwit and the last recourse of the pretender. You've found one can easily dispense with such hogwash when one has the ability to summon lightning at will. But, when in a castle..."Yes, I confess," you say, throwing your hands out in what you assume could be a penitent gesture. Admittedly, you don't have much experience with repentance.The lord carefully slices off a wedge of cheese, then points the knife at you. "You were peeping at my daughter.""Yes," you say. Maryellene, suddenly springing from her seat, cries out, "How much did you see!"After a moment's thought: "Nothing," you say."Nothing?" the lord asks."Nothing?" Maryellene asks, more hopefully.You clear your throat. "Nothing of interest."Maryellene's face turns red. She makes an sort of inarticulate offended gasp, the sort of noise a goose might make if it were to be suddenly and unceremoniously strangled. Lord Merovin falls into a coughing fit.The other squires are decidedly less restrained in their response. The room immediately begins to fill with the sound of their laughter. The lord, once he has regained his composure, waves his hand. Only Randolf (who you've decided is a bit slow) continues to giggle, until the lord gives him such a look of disdain that he immediately falls into hiccups.Meanwhile, tears are trailing down Maryellene's cheeks. It appears the only thing worse than the loss of maiden innocence is a challenge to maiden vanity.The lord rises from the trestle table, face as calm as a cabbage. "What will it be?" he asks. "The cane, the whip, or the pillory?">How about none of the above? Follow this with an attempt to cast a spell.>The pillory. It wouldn't do to damage this body after so much effort to acquire it.>The cane or the whip, whichever is quicker and more private. Pain is endurable. Further humiliation is not.>Write-in
>>6156652>The caneMuch more bearable and less mutilating than the whip. If this mage is worth their salt they'll be able to handle a little pain...
>>6156652>The pillory. It wouldn't do to damage this body after so much effort to acquire it.
>>6156652>>The pillory. It wouldn't do to damage this body after so much effort to acquire it.
>>6156652>The caneSeconding >>6156678
>>6156652>>The pillory. It wouldn't do to damage this body after so much effort to acquire it.Any future peasant jeering can be corrected with the proper application of Fireball, or any other preferred spell, as any good wizard knows.Plus this could be potential meditation practice, maybe.Speaking off, where do we stand regarding our previous magical might? Are we still a complete dull in this body, do we have basic spells available yet? Enough juice for one or two bigger ones, perhaps?
This isn't Asia, but there a caning usually goes down to the bone. The pillory will be miserable but survivable & we'll heal from it fully, not to mention we can attempt to cast spells in the privacy of the early morning & late evening to simply get out of it.
>>6156678+1>>6156652Caning
Oridnarily such a faustian choice would be answered with a swift fireball to the head, but alas, this mind is not yet trained to perform such miracles. In the end the lord has the decency (the "honor" as he would put it) to comply with your choice of punishment. Consequently you spend the remainder of the week, three days and nights, locked in a pillory in the courtyard, preferring humiliation to the harm of a body obtained at so great a cost. Although you are the laughingstock of the other squires, knights, servants, even the crowding peasants, you are spared their rotten quarrel, being still nobility. The jeers, however, are as merciless as they are incomprehensible (what is exactly is a "fustilarian")?The only sympathy you receive is from a young harelipped kitchen maid named Roseleyne, who sneaks you a bit of hot cider and apple tart during the cold nights in exchange for vivid retellings of your insubordination. Perhaps it is the irresistible schadenfreude of seeing "the belle" (as she affectionately calls Maryellene) suffer the same humiliation she has endured her whole life, but she seems to find the whole affair extraordinarily amusing. Still, you sense there are deeper reasons than mere envy for her merriment.On the Sunday, the day of rest, Sir Guillame comes to release you from the pillory. He expresses his disappointment, disgust at your cowering from corporal punishment, disdain for your low position (even among the nobility there are ranks), etc. etc.. Not a single word of it reaches you. You couldn't care less what he or his ilk think, you have far more pressing matters to attend to. The restoration of your former might, for one.Spellcraft, the most flexible and powerful of the wizardly arts, is currently beyond your reach. To try and cohere the raw chaotic forces of the world and then enclose them by this feeble will would be like trying to catch a tiger by its tail. Your mind would be sundered. But there are other, lesser arts, which you might still be able to perform. Divination only requires knowledge of the 78 signs and the grammar of the cross; alchemy, the requisite ingredients in just measures and preparation. Enchantment can be achieved with inscription and emblem alone; the lesser illusions and charms with mere flame and mirror. And then there are the black arts: reanimation of the dead, barter of souls, diablerie, the curse and the hex, which require the gradual surrender of all that is sacred. These are the arts your old master had forbade you to practice, himself the most inviolable proof of their peril. To remember him now still stirs humors long subdued, as well a thrill that he may yet still live, somewhere in this new world. What a strange reunion that would be! And perhaps this time around...But you are getting ahead of yourself. 1/2
>>6157859You must first find a way to exercise your craft. For that, you need liberty of movement and privacy, two things the lowly squire does not possess. Even Gaunter, the nephew of the lord and foremost among the squires (though not only because of his parentage), lives in the barracks with everyone else. To secure your own chambers would require an extraordinary achievement or some reversal of station. The latter seems unlikely, but the only achievement these dullards would recognize is a feat of arms, an equally unlikely prospect. Still, if you could achieve victory in the monthly contest of arms, a request for chambers might be granted. But for that you'll need help.>Who will you ask for help?>Gaunter, the reigning champion, and unofficial leader of the squires. >Sir Guillame, master of the squires and the most natural choice.>Old Harold Half-Hand, the gruff and ancient castellan.>Write-in
>>6157860>Write-In : Ask Christian, the Master-at-arms of the Knight themself, prone to soul-wrenching insults
>>6157860>Old Harold Half-Hand, the gruff and ancient castellan.So we can train with him in "secret"
>>6157860>Old Harold. He's probably got the time and isn't super disappointed in us like Guillame.
>>6157860>Old Harold Half-Hand, the gruff and ancient castellan.
>>6157860Another one for the oldtimer consensus, he can probably teach us how not to lose half of our hand since hindsight is 20/20.
>>6157860>>Old Harold Half-Hand, the gruff and ancient castellan.Honestly, given our goals and current reputation with the squires and knights, wouldn't we be better off making ourselves useful in other ways? We'd get a private room if we weren't primarily a squire but still useful, right? So let's go ask the Castellan. Surely our humongous wizard brain can find something that would be useful to him and set us apart from the other rookies? Maybe there have been thefts we can track down with brains or divination, or maybe they just need someone with a head for numbers and the ability to read and make a basic inventory? We get recognition, a cushy desk job, and all the privacy we can wish for!I'm guessing magic isn't well spread or we'd have heard of the castle wizard already, but is it reserved to a few prized elites or is it more "burn the witch" around these parts? We have zero suspicion on us right now, but best to be aware.
>>6158296Honestly, as a diviner what we should really do is sneak off into a hidden room, lock the door, and do a quick divination to see who we should be asking for help. However, Old Harold sounds like a fine chap, and as a wizard we presumeably understand the value of age and expirience over raw muscle and talent, so fish soup might tell us to talk to Harold anyway.
OP here. Sorry for the delay. Currently on vacation till Christmas. Will still try to get in an update or two.
Given your present lowly status in the castle, it's doubtful that Sir Guillame, the most natural choice, would want anything to do with you. Likewise the squires. It's true that Gaunter sees himself something of a leader among the squires, but you can't imagine he'll want to train his own competition. That leaves Old Harold Half-Hand, the gruff and ancient castellan. Now that Lord Merovin is back, Harold's duties will have been relaxed somewhat. He might be willing to help you, and he is (or was) a skilled warrior in his own right.You find him the next day in his usual spot on the battlements. He appears to take pleasure at keeping the guards on their toes, snapping at them for even the slightest lapse in vigilance. Although he is a landed knight (and therefore, technically a Baron), his lands are entirely managed by Lord Merovin (a viscount), and he has been in the service of the Merovin family for the past forty years. His epithet comes from the loss of his right arm in a skirmish with the neighboring barony a few years ago, which he has replaced with a crude wooden stump with an iron hook at the end. The wound disqualified him from all future service in Lord Merovin's cavaliers, but his intimate knowledge of the castle, his close relationship with Lord Merovin and his family, as well as his considerable experience with siege warfare has kept him in the lord's employ as castellan. All this you learned from Roseleyne, while she kept you company in the pillory."Sir Harold," you say, approaching him.He turns, beginning to lift his hook to the plain white coif he wears, to take it off, but pausing once he see's who it is. "Oh, it's you," he says, dropping the hook. "What's you up here for then? A message from Master Guillame is it?"You shake your head."So?"In the past you could've compelled him with a mere word or gesture, but absent of spellcraft and the means of the other arts, you must rely on your wits. From the other squires, you've learned that the sentries and other castle personnel place bets on the outcome of the squire contests (along with every other thing). If such indiscretions could happen under the nose of Harold Half-Hand, it could only be so through his own involvement. He is either another player or himself the gamester. Roseleyne had also mentioned that Harold lost his wife and son not soon after they were married. Lord Merovin's father, and then Lord Merovin himself, had offered to arrange another spouse for him in the years following, but he has thus far refused. He still sneaks flowers to his wife and son's graves every Sunday, the only bit of sentimentality he seems to entertain in his austere life. >What will be your approach?>Appeal to his sense of duty. You want to win to redeem yourself.>Exploit his blind eye to the betting. You want to win to make him money.>Appeal to his sentimentality. You want to win for your family's sake. >Write-in
>>6160400Thanks for the head-up!>>6160443The madlad pulled it.
>>6160443Great art.>>Exploit his blind eye to the betting. You want to win to make him money.Tell him we want to Git Gud for our own sake and he's the best man for that. He gets to make a handful coins.
>>6160443>Exploit his blind eye to the betting. You want to win to make him money.
>>6160443>Appeal to his sentimentality. You want to win for your family's sake.
>>6160443>Exploit his blind eye to the betting. You want to win to make him money.This is the best one becuase we would be a black horse in the race, odds stacked against us would ensure massive bucks
