This is my attempt at an AAR
The Floris story really inspired me to try it out. I have been a player of MB for about a year now and I always uselessly roleplay, make up background stories what have you. So I decided to make a new one. I present Wroden, the lost teenager looking for meaning in life. His father was a warrior who was able to get him and his brother as a page for a knight. After a plague struck the court, and the count and his brother died, Wroden left for Calradia.
Instead of a dear diary, I was going to try and write this as letters to and from Wroden to various correspondents, starting with his father. I may use a diary later, I just wanted to set up a sort of unreliable narrator.
The difficulty is normal damage on all, good AI in both and battle size 150.
Criticism good and bad is appreciated. If it sucks, tell me and I will improve or stop. Lets go for it. I present to you Wroden.
Part 1, Starting out-------------------------------------------
Dear Father,
I must begin by stating this is hard for me. I normally left it up to Lynel to write to you and let you know how things were going at court. However, after his passing his responsibilities have been given on to me and that includes writing to you.
The plague that hit the city spared none in its wake. The court was decimated, once the plague had lifted the court seemed so foreign to me. All of the friends you had made in the campaigns, the men who were my mentors were gone. Even the immortal Count Drogo, the man Lynel and I served in battle was dead. However, all these losses were but a prick n the skin compared to the stab wound in my heart caused by Lynel death. He was a braver man than I, he never Drogo's side when Drogo caught the plague. I begged Lynel to not go into the room, and go into hiding with me but Lynel could not leave his duty be.
I now see the importance of duty. Lynel died, but he died for some higher reason. I almost envy him. How is being alive without a cause better than being dead with one? I am beginning to understand what duty means. I only wish I had been able to learn it in an easier fashion.
The only problem is I don't know what my duty is. A week ago it was to protect and serve Drogo, but now that he is underground I am absolved of that. The only duty I have left is to you father. As you have made clear to me, that involves improving my station. You sought to secure that by getting me to be a squire of Drogo, however I am not finished. There are only two things I can promise you father. The first is that I will better myself in this life. The second is that I will keep you informed.
Tell mother I love her and tell Annabel to continue with her weaving. I will be leaving the city soon. To where, I do not know.
Starting statsYour Son,
Wroden
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Dear Father,
After leaving what was left of the city I tried to think of what I was able to do. All I knew was war. You had taught me how to hold a sword, and during my time as a squire I learned to ride. I had spent my life observing great leaders but still would hardly call myself leader. I have no skill for trade, engineering, hunting, what have you. As the city disappeared behind me, I realized that leaving the court meant leaving what I knew.
I could have prepared better. While most of who I knew in the court was dead I could have used more money, supplies, or anything. I had your old sword, a shield, and some clothes. I found a quick job as a caravan guard. In order to join I had to buy a crossbow, weapon of cowards. We made it to Reyvadin and were given the day to do as we please.
Me and several guards went to the tavern. They found beds and women to keep them warm. However after having to buy my damn crossbow, I found myself without enough money for anything more then a single cup of ale.
I gathered my gear and left,hoping to find my way back to the caravan and perhaps find an unsold blanket. Instead I found myself lost and in front of a man that smells like his fur coat was still a decaying corpse. He asked for a coin and I said no. He then drew a sword and asked again. I told him once again said no, I simply used my sword to ensure he could not ask again.
My action got me a warm bed and meal from a local merchant. He explained the state of Reyvadin. It was a town ruled by criminals. His own brother was even kidnapped. He was trying to hire help to find him but so far there was no offers. It wasn't surprising, these men controlled the city. It would take a fool to decide to cross them.
Drunk with the merchant A fool, or perhaps your son after a few drinks. I need the coin, and I need to get away from the caravan.
Tell mother something she will like. Good thing she can't read.
Your Son,
Wroden
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Dear Father,
I cannot express the pride I feel in my heart. I find myself in one of those beds I could not afford just three days ago although I swear I am alone. Lets simply say good deeds can reap good rewards.
So I set out after the brother. The Merchant gave me some coin to find some men to help my cause. The people of this region are known as the Vaegirs. They are an unpredictable race, quick to offer either a fire and red meat, or a slash from an axe and and arrow through the neck.
Beware them axes I went through the hinterland of Reyvadin. While the villagers had also suffered from the crime within the city they were not as broken as the men of the city. I soon found myself with a handful of men and began hunting down bandits, trying to find any lead on the merchant's brother.
crossbows may be cowardly, but they sure look coolsaving the brother Within a day I was able to find their hideout and free the merchant's brother. I marched my little militia back to Reyvadin to tell the merchant was done. He offered me another drink and one last job. He had been able to find out that the leader was actually the captain of the guard. He had been able to fire up the city folk and he had a little riot to conduct and he wanted me truly to lead it. I said no and had my drink. He once again offered me the job and a drink and I soon stumbled out the door screaming something akin to a battle cry and then collapsed on the ground drunk as the riot began.
I woke up a bit later in the Merchant's home. He had a bit of a funny look as he explained what happened. I tried to listen but honestly it all came out as a garbled mess. I said something about the heavens and then proceeded to try to strike a victorious pose.
I goof off a lot and take pictures of it After I sobered up I left the tavern to see my militia standing outside. One man, an archer who had been one of the first to join me asked “What now.” “I guess you go home,” I replied, quite confused. We had done our job and they had been paid. I was silently praying that this wasn't some mutiny and I was about to be robbed. “We joined you for combat. Are you done with war?” The man asked. “Well, uh, no wars will always be waging and its my duty to fight them.” I replied.
“Well then we stay with you. For Wroden! Our commander and hero.”
When I wrote to you weeks ago, before I left for Calradia, I spoke of finding what my duty was. Well, I have found one. It is to my men. My duty is to make sure they are kept safe, fed, and paid. However most importantly, it is to keep them in the fight.
Mother, sorry I didn't know Father taught you to read, also thanks for the cap. Its cold here.
Your Son,
Wroden
