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  1. #1

    Levon the Magnificent




    Authors Introduction:


    This is my attempt at a fully narrative AAR. It rather liberally interprets events but all in all, it is based on a game of mine. Though it should be noted that I use both BOPACK and DVIP and start in 1187, which might help to know if you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about gameplay wise.

    I tried as best I could in terms of historical detail, yet my local library lacks Armenian history books. I've managed to learn a few things that might otherwise irk any Armenians. I suppose it wont a big deal, since I will include some fantasy elements. No magic or Elves or anything, but the spare things I do use will become evident quickly. They are inspired by the events anyway. What I want to do is create a more fantastic retelling of a typical medieval story, sort of like a Saga.

    This is supposed to be based on the life of Levon (or Leo), who was an actual Armenian Prince. Having learned a bit about him, I've decided to work his actual life's goals into the AAR itself. Though this AAR might end with the inevitable end of Levon, I'm still considering if I should continue it. We shall see, I suppose.


    Cilicia and the Surrounding Region:



    Contents:


    Book One

    Chapter One


    The Incident at Aram's Manor
    Council With Grigor
    Euripides
    Escape from Antioch
    Last edited by IamWhoa; 20-08-2008 at 21:59.

  2. #2
    Book One
    Chapter I
    The Incident at Aram's Manor




    Levon shuddered. The silence around the manor was unusual and dreadful. Not even a crow sounded across that estates vast green fields and olive groves. All that could be heard was the trotting of Levon’s and his retainers’ horses as they approached. He had come in response to a plea for help against some marauders assault upon the manor of Baron Aram Vahan. Though he would be bound to anyway, Levon was eager to come to the aid of his long time friend and valuable ally.

    Soon they reached the periphery of the manor which was built atop a shallow hill. They dismounted and made their way towards the entrance. To the astonishment of them all, the great wooden door had been sheered off, leaving a grim set of teethed splinters where the hinges had been. Drawing their swords, the heavily armored force entered cautiously.

    The only light which could illuminate the inside was from the sun, as the candles had long been extinguished. Black marks stroked the walls, mixed with a reddish substance Levon dared not to guess. Tables were overturned; wares were smashed to pieces on the wooden floor. But no one there would forget the worst of it all – the massacre. Several bodies were strewn about the room, most mangled and savaged. Towards another door, perhaps leading deeper into the building, laid the lifeless shapes of two more.

    The force carefully avoided the bodies of these poor souls, making their way inward. The same was true all throughout the building. Some victims looked as though they tried to hide, while others seemed to have gone down fighting. The retainers began to whisper, Who could do such a thing? Why? Even the veterans among them recoiled at the unimaginable sight. As the group reached the inner chamber, they discovered the greatest collection of ravaged bodies.

    There had been a feast there and whatever had come against them caught them with their mouths full. Levon and his men began to spread around the room, each man absorbing and inspecting all he could. Some kicked chairs over to better identify bodies pinned beneath them, others only held their heads in shock. At the end of the great dining table, Baron Vahan's headless yet nobly poised body stood watch. After coming upon this, Levon fell to his knees and wept for his expired friend.

    Soon the retainers were tasked with removing the bodies, as to prepare them for an appropriate burial. In teams of two they slowly carried them out. Some rudely dropped their patients as they vomited in horror. As Levon composed himself and made his way back into the daylight, he discovered that a crowd of peasants had gathered. Levon held up his hands to get their attention.

    “Who here saw the Turkish raiders that slaughtered the Baron in his own house?”

    The crowd remained silent.

    As the Prince's head dropped in frustration, one old woman spoke up.

    “My Prince, it wasn't the Turks.”

    “Saracens, then. Where did they go?”

    “No, my Lord. It was Azjbeth!”

    “Azjbeth?”

    The crowd began to murmur rather than answer.

    “Silence,” the Prince roared. The peasants were duly cowed. “Who is Azjbeth?”

    A well built man boldly stepped forward.

    What, would be more fitting my Lord.”

    The man continued amidst Levon's silence.

    “Azjbeth has been a terror to us for many ages. It preys on our sheep, if we are lucky. Oh, if only we were! It comes for us and our children with savagery. A man-eater it is, and we have had to suffer it for as long as any here can remember. Like a glutton at a market it will seize us as we toil the fields. Though few Barons or Counts had stepped up to try and aid us, it seems that they have gotten theirs at last. Retribution from the Lord for lack of sympathy.”

    The crowd nervously stepped back from the speaker as he treaded dangerous ground with his words. Without further acknowledging the man, Levon turned and left to find his compatriot, Count Vacaghx Hetoumi, ruler of Tarsus. With ease he spotted the old Count and his unmistakable mustache. He had been giving orders to his own retainers as the Prince approached.



    “My Prince.” He nodded. “What do you need?”

    “These peasants claimed there were no Turks involved in the raid.”

    “Saracens?”

    “No, they seem to think it was some creature. Azjbeth they call it.”

    “Ah yes, I've heard of it. Some sort of giant, or something of that like.”

    Levon was skeptical.

    “I'm going to have scouts dispatched to scour the region. Hopefully they haven't fled inland already.”

    “I can take care of that, it is my dominion after all. Perhaps you should seek an audience with the Catholicos. Given his knowledge, he should know what this Azjbeth is. Whether he is a rebel leader of some kind, a Turkish warlord,” Vacaghx smirked, “or a vicious demon.”

    Levon was not amused, causing the Count to cough awkwardly before continuing.

    “Though in all honesty, I've never seen such a gruesome sight in my life. Lord knows I've not seen a man do such a thing. Whoever it is must be mad beyond repair.”

    The Prince had those words to ponder as he made his way east towards the mountainous dwelling of the Catholicos.
    Last edited by IamWhoa; 10-05-2009 at 03:59.

  3. #3
    Compulsive lurker nette001's Avatar
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    A nice start. Looking forward to how events will unfold.
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    Looks nice.

    So is this a 1187 scenario?

    Or 1066?

    Since actually there were not so many armenians living in Cilicia during 1060s, since the migratino just begun during those years as the turks begun their raids into old Armenia.

  5. #5
    Field Marshal phargle's Avatar
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    Bigfoot did it.

    Not a bad narrative start, and it has a great title, and it has the mod that produces the hilarious mustaches.

  6. #6
    Blasted Conniving Roman General_BT's Avatar
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    I always assumed the chupicabra was at fault...

    Good start... maybe an Armenian Empire comes out of this?
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  7. #7
    General_BT: He's not Magnificent for nothing

    phargle:
    You sully the good name of the docile Bigfoot

    Enewald: 1187. I think I'll put that in the introduction. Also, I describe Levon as a Prince even though he's a King in the game. Mainly because he hadn't gotten the title of King for while later in real history (or so I've read).

    nette001:
    Good to hear.


    Even though the second update is done and polished, I'm not sure about what I want to do with the third, and obviously what goes on in the second has implications for the third. So I should have the next update posted by Sunday night, when I've decided where to go with the third update (I'm thinking this could use some sort of action already.)

    Bah! I spelled Cilicia wrong in my map. I'm going to fix that.
    Last edited by IamWhoa; 17-08-2008 at 06:57.

  8. #8
    Book One
    Chapter I
    Council With Grigor




    The wind of the Amonos Mountains splashed against Levon's bare neck as he waited outside Grigor Pahlavuni's monastery. Grigor was the Patriarch, or Catholicos, of the Armenian Church. There was none wiser in Cilicia, where the Armenian nation was then located, and none better equipped to enrich a Prince or Baron with sound knowledge. Only Grigor could know what prowled the countryside.

    A faithful tenant of the monastery had received the Prince but warned him that the Catholicos was nearing the completion of a musical manuscript, rumored to be a masterpiece of Armenian Chant. Until he had finished it, Levon would have to wait outside. With nothing to do he examined the beauty of the rugged sun bathed mountains, again and again, until their magic wore off. Finally he was greeted by the monk from before, who showed him inside.



    Many Saints from the dawn of Christianity graced the pinkish-cream stone walls. Darkness lurked in the far corners where the sparse light from the sun and torches didn't reach. With open arms the Catholicos met him. The two greeted as old friends do before sitting down at a modest stone slab.

    “My son,” Grigor said, “I've prayed long for your brother; united you and your wife Vasilike in Christ; helped you cement the alliance with Cyrpus; helped relieved your inexperience as a ruler with all the advice I can give. What now do you need?”

    Levon feared the impatience of the Catholicos.

    “I have come to ask for advice, as yours has been so valuable in the past -- this time about a destructive menace to Cilicia.”

    “Menace? What has happened?”

    “A herald had arrived in Sis pleading for help against an attack upon Tarsus. With a small army I immediately set out. I later learned that it was specifically Baron Aram Vahan's estate, east of the city. When I arrived, I found the door of his manor sheered off and the innards of the building in chaos. I entered the main hall and discovered the Baron's headless body still at rest.”

    Grigor became faint.

    “Oh.”

    “At the time of his murder he had been hosting a banquet. All of his guests seemed to have perished all well.”

    The old Patriarch's heart grew heavy to see Levon's eyes swell with tears. Comfortingly, he put his hand on the Prince's shoulder.

    “And how do you expect me to help you with this? You don't need to ask me personally for prayer on my part, you know.”

    “That's not it.” Levon said. “I found one peasant who referred Aram's killer as Azjbeth. I'd hoped you knew something about him, but if not I'll leave you be.”

    Raising a brow, the Catholicos looked off in thought.

    “Some of my...less strict forebears did indeed posses records of heathen rituals and folklore. If you're lucky, I may have spared some of it. Whether or not I possess one on this Azjbeth, we will soon see.”

    The old Catholicos then shuffled off into the distant gloom of the monastery. The Prince was left to wallow in the memories of his deceased friend.

    After a long while Grigor reappeared, triumphantly bearing a small leather-bound manuscript.

    “This does indeed tell of a creature called Azjbeth, a fire god to the writer, yet clearly a demon to my eyes.”

    He opened it to reveal lush yet aged illustrations. Each successive picture told a vast tale involving everything from dragons to vengeful cow-herding sun gods. It was the brief tale of Azjbeth with Grigor turned to.

    “Azjbeth seems to have haunted various peoples of the past, far before the time of the Apostles. Roaming from place to place, it arrived in these lands seeking the beautiful crown of Cilicia, a revered and much desired object. Azjbeth's search was relentless and many suffered under his terror. When Azjbeth finally found the crown, he first killed and devoured the poor ruler who wore it. After this act he proclaimed himself a King, slipping the crown around one of his deathly fingers. Then he fled into the wilderness, taking with him those unlucky courtiers who satiated his taste.”

    The Prince tried to make sense of the story as Grigor thumbed through the manuscript.

    “Folklore is quite an imaginative force.”

    Grigor only shrugged, closing the book with a thud.

    “This is all I have on the subject. You might try to find a man named Euripides Nikomedes. He once journeyed in search of the crown of Cilicia. All that came to an end as he appeared in a Greek village, bloodied and wild eyed, babbling that he had encountered Azjbeth and seen the crown.”

    “And where can I find him?”

    “In Antioch I believe.”

    Levon's eyes narrowed. The city was controlled by Crusaders, specifically Prince Bohemond – a rival of the Rubenids. Though the Armenians were crucial to the First Crusade, politics will always forgets such things.

    “How am I going to get in there without being imprisoned and ransomed? Bohemond could force me to cede territory, or worse.”

    “Figure it out my son. Take the necessary steps and the Lord shall take care of the rest.”

    Grigor quickly noticed that his own advice was not tremendously helpful.

    “There are many relics to be seen by the pious in that city. The Crusaders promise sanctuary for Christian pilgrims, correct? Perhaps you should be as clever as those who create these tales?”

    With that Grigor rose and once more disappeared into the darkness. This time he did not return and left Levon to his own devices.
    Last edited by IamWhoa; 19-08-2008 at 05:11.

  9. #9
    Slow Monday I guess. I'll post the next update just to get things moving along.

    I've been doing a lot of reading on fiction writing and other things. So if something is putting you off or could use re-working I'd be happy to hear what. But I suppose the first few updates will always be sluggish for those that don't or haven't been writing regularly.

    The next one is about Euripides of course, then something real happens.

  10. #10
    Book One
    Chapter I
    Euripides


    Count Vacaghx's scouts came up with nothing in their search for Baron Vahan's killer. Though sporadic rumors from the peasants found their way into Levon's open ear, they were unreliable at best. The Prince soon decided he'd travel in person to meet Euripides.

    By ship he journeyed to Antioch which though far inland, was connected to the sea via the Orentes River. Given the relative hostility between Bohemond and the Rubenid Princes, Levon had taken the guise of a pilgrim, forsaking his royal attire for a shabby brown tunic and cloak. When he reached the gates this disguise did not fail him and the Latins let him through, though not without much whispering between them. After passing the ramparts, the Prince made his way down the main street, marveling at the unity of squalor and long dead history. For a mixture of faith and a desire to remain inconspicuous, mostly the latter, the Prince payed his dues to the excavated Church of Saint Peter.



    When the sun began its descent, Levon crept into an alleyway and began his search for the home of Euripides.

    Off the beaten and secured path, the full terror of the urban life threw itself against Levon. Beggars approached with rancid breath and battered hands; garbage poured out of the windows of apartments; and smashed pottery and other unspeakable filth blanketed the foot of buildings. After a great deal of scouring and close calls with locals, Levon found the home of the man he sought. Though an unassuming hovel like the rest of them, a stained and rotten banner was strung above the door:

    EURIPIDES NIKOMEDES


    Relieved the Prince went to knock; a rhythmic tap.

    Then another more rigorous one.

    He then slowly opened the door. Light filtered in and illuminated the bare and dusty room.

    As he inspected the house from the doorway, a deep and raspy voice spoke out.

    “And who might this be?”

    Levon could only peer inwards. He took a step back as the superstitions he long abandoned crept back into his mind.

    There was a long silence before the source emerged from the darkness, revealing himself to be but a scrawny old man. His gray beard hung to one side as he leaned against his red tinted cane. He made sure to get a good look at his guest before raising a bushy eyebrow.

    “Why are you in my home? You look like a pilgrim of some sort.”

    “I might be.”

    The face of the man relaxed as he warmed to Levon.

    “That can be discussed later I suppose. Well, if you have truly traveled for many leagues then, I may be able to provide something for you.”

    “May I ask, are you Euripides?”

    “Of course. It says that outside doesn't it?”

    “Good. I am the Prince of Cilicia. I've come to inquire about a certain creature, or man. I hope you will be kind enough to help me.”

    “Perhaps. I know a thing or two about this or that. Follow me into the upper chamber, it's where I spend most of my time. Excuse the uncleanliness in this room.”

    The two carefully made their way up the stairs and into the finer quarters of Euripides.

    The many souvenirs of his travels could be seen in the orange glow of candlelight; a whistling Turkic arrow, an Iberian mirror, an elephant skull, and an Arab translation of Plato – among many other things. Euripides first insisted that Levon look at his various manuscripts. The flowing writing of the old man was the finest the he had seen. Then each took a spartan wooden chair to sit in.

    “So, the Prince of Armenian Cilicia. It must be quite dangerous for you to be here. I am humbled. What do you need to know.”

    Levon took a moment to collect his thoughts.

    “Recently a terror struck a good friend of mine, the Baron Aram. It killed him and his guests, ravaging his home in the process. Some peasants claimed it was some creature, though I at first cast these off as folklore. I went to the Catholicos Grigor for advice, yet he could only show me an old tome featuring the supposed beast. Azjbeth, he is called.”

    Euripide's mouth dropped slightly as if to gasp and he began to fidget.

    “I see...Yes, you certainly came to the right place.”

    “His Holiness said you once encountered it. If it is too painful to recollect, than I wont press you.”

    Euripide's nodded.

    “It was some time ago. Just allow me a moment to compose myself.

    “My wife Theodora and I had just returned from Crete, one of our countless journeys abroad. I had in my possession a peculiar parchment which bore a peculiar and jarringly written Armenian script. The balding merchant who gave it to me told me it would lead to the crown of Cilicia, that it would be needed to navigate the perilous forests north of Tarsus. Thinking that I may only need to plunder some tomb or other, I immediately hired a number of body guards and set to following the parchment's every detail.

    "My wife Theodora, who was my companion at all times, came with me. After nearly a day the parchment lead us to a cave. It was there that I would curse ever speaking to that Cretan merchant.

    “From the darkness of the cave the appendages of some bizarre creature lurked. Man like yet much larger. The being reach out with its wiry death black arm, grabbing one of my men and bringing him to a grizzly end in the dark of the cave.

    "At first I was fascinated by the crown shaped ring bound around one of its fingers, but when I came to my sense I found my guards glancing at each other in fear. Suddenly the creature leaped out into the light, snatching up another.”

    He winced.

    “That terrible laugh, it seemed to cripple the will. As he indulged himself on the unwitting souls I had brought with me, showering the ground with their fluids, I felt as though I should just surrender. It soon found Theodora and grabbed her, tossing her away as if unfit. I crawled to her in the chaos but she had already died. In a state of indescribable panic and confusion I ran away and did not stop. If it tried to pursue me at all I'll never know.

    “By sheer luck, and after several days, I managed to crawl out of that forest. I was then discovered by a band of Turks. Though they seemed to take pity and pass me by, the last of them, royal in appearance, forced me by sword to surrender nearly everything: the parchment, my shoes, and the other half of the payment to my now dead guards.

    "After that I wandered into a Greek village in the west. They were kind and helped me recover my wits over the following weeks. I know now that it was Azjbeth that I encountered and that it was the crown of Cilicia bound around its finger. That is the story.”

    The telling of the tale had taken its toll on the spirit of Levon's host, causing him to cease his welcome words and gestures. As the sun began to fall across the horizon, Levon thanked Euripides and left his home.

    He moved passed the gates once more and into the harbor where his ship awaited him. Just as it was in an arms length, a Latin soldier held him up with an insulting barrage of words Levon could not understand. Then several more emerged following the path he had come. As they moved to grab him he did not fight. Levon could only look on as the sullen figure of Euripides nodded with affirmation to an inquiring Latin as he pointed out the Prince of Cilicia.

  11. #11
    Book One
    Chapter I
    Escape from Antioch

    For nearly two months Levon languished in a filthy prison far west of Antioch, near the coast. There was a small opening with a view of the Mediterranean yet the sun rarely shone through to warm him. The sea, however, was eager to keep his room at a frigid temperature. By the later part of the month, he had come to know every stone and board in the cell intimately. He knew that each block was placed by an inexperienced mason and the rough texture of the wooden door was uncomfortable to the touch. The water he was given was gritty and the bread tasted of bile, likely due to the yellowish mold on the soggier edges. It was the most hellish and miserable experience he had suffered in his 33 years. Yet he could have easily had his freedom had he given up the border towns that Bohemond demanded, something he would never agree to.

    One day (Levon had lost count by this time) the door of the cell threw open and an elderly man with tattered gray garments tumbled inward. In an instant the door slammed shut once more. In the dark Levon could barely discern the face of his new comrade but soon realized it to be none other than Euripides. With a snarl he assaulted the old man, pummeling him with both fists. Though his anger quickly subsided, Euripides was left swollen and blue.

    They spent several more days on opposite sides of the cell, each acting as if the other weren't there.

    “So what did you receive for alerting Bohemond?”

    Euripides shied from answering before mumbling an answer.

    “A man's got to eat sometimes.”

    “You rat, you could have sold one of your manuscripts or other tokens.”

    Euripides groaned and his head drooped pitifully.

    “Those weren't mine at all. All Theodora's. It was her who brought me along on her many travels. I could never give up what little I have left of her for mere coin. But without her, I simply languish in my hovel.”

    The old man held his head in sorrow and the two wallowed in the misery of their respective fates for several days.

    “So how do you intend to find Azjbeth now?”

    “I don't know now. I've no idea where to find the parchment you lost.”

    Euripides made a timid proposition.

    “I could help you.”

    Levon grunted, “how so?”

    “I remember, for the most part, how to get through that woodland. If I could help you reach Azjbeth's lair and watch him be slain by a ready group of men, then I may be able to properly grieve at last. I could be a peace with Theodora's passing. Perhaps I could abandon the treachery which I made you and others suffer through and find an honorable trade.”

    The Prince only frowned.

    “Depends on how Bohemond feels about it, I suppose.”

    Early the next morning, a peculiar noise began to echo through the prison. It was a fleeting sound at first, like the scurrying of rodents. Then it slowly grew over the course of minutes. Finally Levon recognized it: a battle. The sound became louder and louder until finally it seemed to surround the cell. The halls echoed with shrieks and war cries. Shadows bolted past the door in a frenzy. One stopped and turned to peek inside. Levon barely recognized him – the Count Gauffridus Vanantezi of Adana.

    “Here,” the Count bellowed.

    Before long, a rhythmic pounding began against the door as they attempted to break it down. After several minutes it finally gave way, exploding into a hail of dry timbers.



    “My Prince!”

    Gauffridus embraced his liege, offering him a sword and hauberk which he took and wore.

    “We must hurry out of here. There is a ship waiting, come with me.”

    To the bafflement of the Count, Levon stood idly.

    He nodded at Euripides, “We'll bring him along as well.”

    A the old man went to fall at the feet of Levon in gratitude, the Prince had already followed Gauffridus out the opening. Ignoring the aching of his bones, he limply pursued them.

    The nearly 30 strong force of Armenians made their way through the halls of the prison and met little resistance. Gauffridus' men had done well in slaying most of them. A weak man, he relied on his far reaching voice and keen ability with words to sway both the hearts of soldiers and women alike. Just as they reached the entrance a similarly sized force of Latins appeared. Without hesitation, the mass of arrogant heraldry and iron clashed with the Armenians.

    In the tight quarters of the prison hall, the combatants were forced to use the heels of their sword to bludgeon their opponents. Those who had to do battle with a foe who wielded a mace or small war-hammer did not think he would survive. Many men were trampled repeatedly in the back and forth of the chaos. Levon himself moved to the front, stabbing several with his own sword. The Armenians eventually scattered the Latin force and sprinted down the now slippery hall. At the end of it was the exit and the light of day. The reached it and before them was a ramp leading down close to the glistening water where several row-boats where beached. In the distance a large Greek vessel could be made out.



    Turning to make sure Euripides was behind him, Levon led the army down the ramp and against another force of Crusaders.

    With the aid of height, the Armenians easily cut through them. But before they could all be slaughtered more came from inside the prison. The Armenians were now surrounded and immediately began fall in great numbers.

    Gauffridus roared a six-line verse to inspire the Armenians and with the final word of the poem, lopped the head off an unlucky opponent. This was received with a rumbling cheer from his men and the Latins quickly broke in terror. In the brief moment of peace the Armenian army continued but Levon saw that Euripides was laid out on the ground, with a wound to the chest. As he went to him he knew he held a dieing man. Euripides knew it as well and spent his last breath to help him find Azjbeth.

    “It was the Sultan, who took the parchment from me...the Sultan of Rűm. I am sure of it. You'll kill Azjbeth wont you?”

    Before he could answer, Levon's ear caught the sound of clanging metal hurdling down the ramp towards him and he rose to face them. Of the three Latins, the leader was a large brute of a man, more fat than muscle. He was three or four heads taller than the Prince and grasped an ax in each hand. He strutted ahead of the other two and cocked his head, challenging the Prince in his native French. Without thought, Levon swung wide at the brutes mail protected neck, breaking his sword into several careening fragments. The massive man tottered before collapsing in a bloody pool. The other Latins were shocked and hesitated. Levon looked to Euripides but saw his eyes were now lifeless. Throwing the remains of his sword aside, he turned and fled down towards the others.

    Levon and fifteen surviving Armenian soldiers made it to the row-boats and soon made it to the ship. The crew waiting on-board were quick to bring the ship up to a rapid speed as they made for Cilicia.

  12. #12
    Captain Deamon's Avatar
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    I wonder what this "Azjbeth" is.
    Wenn der Sheriff reiten geht, reiten alle mit.

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  13. #13
    Field Marshal phargle's Avatar
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    I liked the scene where the prince meets Euripedes, although I didn't get the sense early on that he would be betrayed. It seemed sudden - he should've killed Euripedes in the cell.

  14. #14
    Enewald Enewald's Avatar
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    Old christian mercy?

    Ah well, I haven't been able to comment since I am not allowed to touch computer during the weeks. Evil school. Lovely weekends.

    Evil latins!

  15. #15
    Wizzaard Estonianzulu's Avatar
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    Sounds like a vampire to me.
    LibrAARian of the EU1 LibrAARy and the EU1 LibrAARy updates
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  16. #16
    Enewald Enewald's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Estonianzulu
    Sounds like a vampire to me.
    I'd suggest a big stinky hairy huge norman.
    Not that unusual during the medieval.

  17. #17
    Estonianzulu: I'm not really a fan of vampires. Though I was reading Beowulf a while back...

    Enewald:
    In the beginning of Book 2, which is a long way off, I was thinking of a villain like that.

    phargle: Yeah that is rough. I just wanted him to be like some sort of self-interested character without being clearly bad or good. Just based on an archetype I read about. Though, characterization is fairly new to me. Does Levon seem like someone who would kill Euripides like that? I hope not.

    Deamon: I don't think it will be a surprise or anything.


    I kind of moved on to writing other things since this started off so sluggishly. I'll get going again pretty soon here. I need to write a more solid outline first since I have no idea how to get from A to B in the next part of the story.

  18. #18
    Field Marshal phargle's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by IamWhoa
    phargle: Yeah that is rough. I just wanted him to be like some sort of self-interested character without being clearly bad or good. Just based on an archetype I read about. Though, characterization is fairly new to me. Does Levon seem like someone who would kill Euripides like that? I hope not.
    Hm. No, no he doesn't. He seems like someone who would be upset, but not murderously upset, even though it would have been justified. It's hard to say if that's a virtue or a weakness.

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