Characters do have a way of living their own lives. Interesting set-up you have here.
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Well, he may have slipped from your authorial grasp, but he is a good character. it would be cool if we could convert him to the side of the Von Reichenbergs.
Help!
Right, having stated that I am a lousy modder, I now need HELP!!!
I can't even mod a leader file! can someone tell me how I can mod in a leader in a few easy steps? Without messing up the game?
Sigh. Sometimes I wish I were better at this...
DW
Right, having stated that I am a lousy modder, I now need HELP!!!
I can't even mod a leader file! can someone tell me how I can mod in a leader in a few easy steps? Without messing up the game?
Sigh. Sometimes I wish I were better at this...
DW
open the folder where all the leaderfiles are inside ([if you play it AGCEEP]->DB->leaders) then oupen the file with your ending .. .hab would be yours with austria I guess .. with the editor. Copy one leader, rename him, change the date to when you want him to appear (and die) and the stats as how you want him to be. Thats it.
Oh, and yan you put some pictures in your AAR, you know My fantasy was destroyed by television, so I have problems to imagine everything you post
would be nice thanks
Oh, and yan you put some pictures in your AAR, you know My fantasy was destroyed by television, so I have problems to imagine everything you post
would be nice thanks
Iche_Bins said:open the folder where all the leaderfiles are inside ([if you play it AGCEEP]->DB->leaders) then oupen the file with your ending .. .hab would be yours with austria I guess .. with the editor. Copy one leader, rename him, change the date to when you want him to appear (and die) and the stats as how you want him to be. Thats it.
Oh, and yan you put some pictures in your AAR, you know My fantasy was destroyed by television, so I have problems to imagine everything you post
would be nice thanks
Hmmm, I tried that... This works with AGCEEP too? It would be so like my luck to find this thing doesn't work for me...
Maybe I am just massively incompetent.
DW
Chapter I: Agnes
Agnes looked up at the stark stone castle. The brooding fortress sat over the road like a bear over its prey. It was one of many fortifications the small caravan had so far passed, but she had heard tales about this castle. Weinburg am Weinspach, owned by the Lords of Weinburg, die Herren von Weinburg. The Weinburgs had a long history of disobeying the Counts of Tirol, a long history of attacking and robbing merchants and all others who travelled down the road that ran past their lands. Pilgrims and bishops, monks and burghers, if the Weinburgs needed money, and the travellers looked rich enough, they all fell victims to the rapacious greed of the robber barons.
All Agnes could do was hope that the few carts and the poor belongings wouldn’t arouse the greed as rich caravans and fine clothes did. As the first cart rumbled over the ice packed stones that formed the uneven road, Agnes prayed. As the cart passed through the ford, Agnes prayed. The great, grey gates of the castle opened and the thunder of hooves was heard.
Chapter I: Reichenberg
Feinwenger left the small house, looking around. With quick, long strides he moved across the snow. He entered the manor. The man he was looking for sat on a rough bench, leaning against the bare wall. Even the poor wall hangings had been taken, so draughts and cold permeated the room. The man was much older than the other men in the room, quite old enough to be Feinwenger’s father, maybe even his grandfather. What hair he had left on his large head was greyish white and a large, angry red scar ran from across his bare skull. His rough homespun was clean and in good condition and he was oiling a leather gambeson. A metal helmet sat next to him on the bench and a large hand-and a half sword leaned against the wall. A long, wicked knife was still on his belt. Feinwenger knew the old man was good with the knife, frightening with the sword. He was the oldest man in his company, a veteran of many battles and skirmishes.
“Greis.”
The old man did not stop oiling. “Yurs?”
“Folger killed a woman and tried to rape a girl. I want you to wake him and make clear to all the men that I won’t allow that sort of thing. If we want to gain advantage from these lands as soon as possible, there must be no needless violence. The Council wants profit, killing and raping reduces profit. Make certain the men understand that.”
Greis grunted. “Hrrmmm. What’d do w’ grl?
“Make certain she is alright, detail some men to bury her mother. Talk with whoever is in charge. Ask her name, do it properly.
Greis grunted again, getting up. He stood well over six feet tall, even though old age had bent and shrunk him somewhat. “Ahl take care o’ it.”
Feinwenger went on, looking for Karl Droich. Droich was probably in the Solar, the warmest private place in the building. He claimed his wounds needed warmth and constant care. So he would probably have a girl there too. Feinwenger swore under his breath as he walked up the short stairway.
He opened the door to the Solar, seeing Droich with his arm around an unwilling peasant girl. For a man supposed to be wounded, Droich was quite lively. He had some of the wine he had brought with him and better food than Feinwenger had expected.
“You may leave girl. Master Droich and I must speak.”
Karl looked at him in annoyance, but relinquished his hold on the girl’s waist. Feinwenger waved her out of the room, keeping his eyes on the younger man’s face.
“Folger killed a woman and tried to rape a girl I have strict orders against that sort of thing from the Council.”
Karl grunted. “Why the Council cares for a few peasants on poor land is beyond me. There’s hardly any money to be had here anyway.”
“Because the land is poor and brings in little money, it is essential not to antagonise the peasants, thereby decreasing there ability and willingness to work. Greis is taking care of Folger. He will also take care of the girl. And he will be in command of those who remain here.
Karl smiled. “Ah! We are going after Reichenberg then? I feared your reputation might have been false for a minute. Good, I will prepa…
Feinwenger extended his hand, his long, sword-callused finger pointing straight at Karl’s nose. “You will remain here. You will obey everything Greis tells you to do.”
“WHAT? You can’t leave me! I want to go!”
Feinwenger slowly withdrew his finger into his fist, large, bony and intimidating. “You have endangered this entire action with your stupidity and indiscretions. You have disobeyed me and the Council and your father. You have got yourself and ten men wounded and three men killed. You have put me at a decided disadvantage by that and in more other ways I care to think about right now. I am in charge, put in charge by the Council, with your father’s full confidence. I will NOT have you traipsing around like a ponce endangering my men. Also, despite your apparent vigour with the ladies, you have leg wound and we are riding. If you catch cold in that wound and it festers, I don’t want to explain that to your father.”
Karl was white with fury and tried to rise, but his wounded leg gave way beneath him. Still seated he looked at Feinwenger with coal-black eyes, filled with hate.
“Greis is a peasant! He should not be in command! That is the job of a man of breeding! “
Feinwenger chuckled. “Your grandfather was a peasant, just like Greis. Only Greis is still alive and your grandfather is dead. As for qualification to command, Greis has seen more battles than I have, and more than you will ever see. He knows what he is doing. Now if you want to complain, complain to Greis.”
Turning on his heel and ignoring the protests and curses that Karl threw at his back, Feinwenger strode out. He walked out of the manor. The first thing he saw was Greis breaking the ice of a water butt, to douse Folger’s head. Several other men were looking on, in some fear. All of them were cronies of Folger or Karl. The thing that inspired the fear was that Greis was using Folger’s head to break the ice. Three village women were standing in the doorway of the dead woman. Feinwenger could see the girl’s vengeful and teary face peeking between the older women. He hoped Greis’ rough justice would make her feel at least a little better. Feinwenger settled down to watch the show.
Agnes looked up at the stark stone castle. The brooding fortress sat over the road like a bear over its prey. It was one of many fortifications the small caravan had so far passed, but she had heard tales about this castle. Weinburg am Weinspach, owned by the Lords of Weinburg, die Herren von Weinburg. The Weinburgs had a long history of disobeying the Counts of Tirol, a long history of attacking and robbing merchants and all others who travelled down the road that ran past their lands. Pilgrims and bishops, monks and burghers, if the Weinburgs needed money, and the travellers looked rich enough, they all fell victims to the rapacious greed of the robber barons.
All Agnes could do was hope that the few carts and the poor belongings wouldn’t arouse the greed as rich caravans and fine clothes did. As the first cart rumbled over the ice packed stones that formed the uneven road, Agnes prayed. As the cart passed through the ford, Agnes prayed. The great, grey gates of the castle opened and the thunder of hooves was heard.
Chapter I: Reichenberg
Feinwenger left the small house, looking around. With quick, long strides he moved across the snow. He entered the manor. The man he was looking for sat on a rough bench, leaning against the bare wall. Even the poor wall hangings had been taken, so draughts and cold permeated the room. The man was much older than the other men in the room, quite old enough to be Feinwenger’s father, maybe even his grandfather. What hair he had left on his large head was greyish white and a large, angry red scar ran from across his bare skull. His rough homespun was clean and in good condition and he was oiling a leather gambeson. A metal helmet sat next to him on the bench and a large hand-and a half sword leaned against the wall. A long, wicked knife was still on his belt. Feinwenger knew the old man was good with the knife, frightening with the sword. He was the oldest man in his company, a veteran of many battles and skirmishes.
“Greis.”
The old man did not stop oiling. “Yurs?”
“Folger killed a woman and tried to rape a girl. I want you to wake him and make clear to all the men that I won’t allow that sort of thing. If we want to gain advantage from these lands as soon as possible, there must be no needless violence. The Council wants profit, killing and raping reduces profit. Make certain the men understand that.”
Greis grunted. “Hrrmmm. What’d do w’ grl?
“Make certain she is alright, detail some men to bury her mother. Talk with whoever is in charge. Ask her name, do it properly.
Greis grunted again, getting up. He stood well over six feet tall, even though old age had bent and shrunk him somewhat. “Ahl take care o’ it.”
Feinwenger went on, looking for Karl Droich. Droich was probably in the Solar, the warmest private place in the building. He claimed his wounds needed warmth and constant care. So he would probably have a girl there too. Feinwenger swore under his breath as he walked up the short stairway.
He opened the door to the Solar, seeing Droich with his arm around an unwilling peasant girl. For a man supposed to be wounded, Droich was quite lively. He had some of the wine he had brought with him and better food than Feinwenger had expected.
“You may leave girl. Master Droich and I must speak.”
Karl looked at him in annoyance, but relinquished his hold on the girl’s waist. Feinwenger waved her out of the room, keeping his eyes on the younger man’s face.
“Folger killed a woman and tried to rape a girl I have strict orders against that sort of thing from the Council.”
Karl grunted. “Why the Council cares for a few peasants on poor land is beyond me. There’s hardly any money to be had here anyway.”
“Because the land is poor and brings in little money, it is essential not to antagonise the peasants, thereby decreasing there ability and willingness to work. Greis is taking care of Folger. He will also take care of the girl. And he will be in command of those who remain here.
Karl smiled. “Ah! We are going after Reichenberg then? I feared your reputation might have been false for a minute. Good, I will prepa…
Feinwenger extended his hand, his long, sword-callused finger pointing straight at Karl’s nose. “You will remain here. You will obey everything Greis tells you to do.”
“WHAT? You can’t leave me! I want to go!”
Feinwenger slowly withdrew his finger into his fist, large, bony and intimidating. “You have endangered this entire action with your stupidity and indiscretions. You have disobeyed me and the Council and your father. You have got yourself and ten men wounded and three men killed. You have put me at a decided disadvantage by that and in more other ways I care to think about right now. I am in charge, put in charge by the Council, with your father’s full confidence. I will NOT have you traipsing around like a ponce endangering my men. Also, despite your apparent vigour with the ladies, you have leg wound and we are riding. If you catch cold in that wound and it festers, I don’t want to explain that to your father.”
Karl was white with fury and tried to rise, but his wounded leg gave way beneath him. Still seated he looked at Feinwenger with coal-black eyes, filled with hate.
“Greis is a peasant! He should not be in command! That is the job of a man of breeding! “
Feinwenger chuckled. “Your grandfather was a peasant, just like Greis. Only Greis is still alive and your grandfather is dead. As for qualification to command, Greis has seen more battles than I have, and more than you will ever see. He knows what he is doing. Now if you want to complain, complain to Greis.”
Turning on his heel and ignoring the protests and curses that Karl threw at his back, Feinwenger strode out. He walked out of the manor. The first thing he saw was Greis breaking the ice of a water butt, to douse Folger’s head. Several other men were looking on, in some fear. All of them were cronies of Folger or Karl. The thing that inspired the fear was that Greis was using Folger’s head to break the ice. Three village women were standing in the doorway of the dead woman. Feinwenger could see the girl’s vengeful and teary face peeking between the older women. He hoped Greis’ rough justice would make her feel at least a little better. Feinwenger settled down to watch the show.
Even though Feinwenger is on the bad side, I like seeing him stick it to Droich.
I hope that Agnes escapes from what looks like a theft.
I hope that Agnes escapes from what looks like a theft.
excellent reading. I like Greis and Feinwenger. Although they are the baddies, they have honor and dignity.
A little dissention amidst his enemies would surely make Reichenberg feel a little happier. A nasty sort of chap is our Feinwenger.
Dead William said:
I don't think I'd like to get of Greis' bad side.
I think Feinwenger left the right man in charge.Joe
I'd have to agree with Storey. That's one way to get a man's attention...and all the others, for that matter.
Right, I wanted to say this when I posted the update, but I forgot...
first, Feedback!
Iche_Bins: Thanks for the help and the compliments. I am afraid I have no images to show you really, well, maybe of a typical manor or millrace in Aargau, but that is about it... Thanks for the advice as well, but let me gat back to that.
J. Passepartout: Feinwenger is a carreer soldier. He has this thing about foolish idijits like Carl, and he has a mission. And I think he enjoyed it too....
Deus: Bad/good... Make it us and them, these things in medieval times get convoluted... I'll get back to you on the honour and dignity. Competent, yes, very competent....
stnylan: Feinwenger is seldom more nasty than he has to be. He sees a goal and will use as much force, of any kind, as he needs. More would be excessive... A calculating villain if you will...
Storey: Greis is turning out ver y nicely as a matter of fact. He'll be around for a while, I think...
Now some game related questions:
1) Can I add leaders during play? I have succeeded in doing so before the game starts, but that is a little too manipulative for my taste at the moment. If so, how? (Previous attempts according to the Iche_bins method have failed, causing 2, below...)
2) A major CTD, driving AGCEEP of my computer. Since I had played until 1450 or so, no great loss. The AAR will continue.
3) Does anyone know what the free ID's are for the AGCEEP/austria? or where I can find such?
Now some personal things:
On the 24th of march, while traveling on the bus, I asked a man if he would turn down his music. He responded by yelling abuse at me and then hit me about the head with a bottle. He has been detained and will be brought to court for attempted manslaughter and grievous bodily harm...
Here's the important bit:
I think, but I am not sure, that I mix up letters and words far more often than I do when I merely make typos, that my sentences sometimes don't make sense and other such things... Typing a coherent sentence does take rather more time at the moment than it usually does. Slow updates might be a consequence, though the doctor says mental excercise will do me good. There might be more updates. Then again, I might take up maths. :wacko:
I would really appreciate if during the next two weeks or so if you post feedback you report these things. I will then change them if they are typos, and inform you if they are meant to be... This is just a sort of measure to see if my fear is correct.
Sorry for dumping my personal problems on you guys,
DW
first, Feedback!
Iche_Bins: Thanks for the help and the compliments. I am afraid I have no images to show you really, well, maybe of a typical manor or millrace in Aargau, but that is about it... Thanks for the advice as well, but let me gat back to that.
J. Passepartout: Feinwenger is a carreer soldier. He has this thing about foolish idijits like Carl, and he has a mission. And I think he enjoyed it too....
Deus: Bad/good... Make it us and them, these things in medieval times get convoluted... I'll get back to you on the honour and dignity. Competent, yes, very competent....
stnylan: Feinwenger is seldom more nasty than he has to be. He sees a goal and will use as much force, of any kind, as he needs. More would be excessive... A calculating villain if you will...
Storey: Greis is turning out ver y nicely as a matter of fact. He'll be around for a while, I think...
Now some game related questions:
1) Can I add leaders during play? I have succeeded in doing so before the game starts, but that is a little too manipulative for my taste at the moment. If so, how? (Previous attempts according to the Iche_bins method have failed, causing 2, below...)
2) A major CTD, driving AGCEEP of my computer. Since I had played until 1450 or so, no great loss. The AAR will continue.
3) Does anyone know what the free ID's are for the AGCEEP/austria? or where I can find such?
Now some personal things:
On the 24th of march, while traveling on the bus, I asked a man if he would turn down his music. He responded by yelling abuse at me and then hit me about the head with a bottle. He has been detained and will be brought to court for attempted manslaughter and grievous bodily harm...
Here's the important bit:
I think, but I am not sure, that I mix up letters and words far more often than I do when I merely make typos, that my sentences sometimes don't make sense and other such things... Typing a coherent sentence does take rather more time at the moment than it usually does. Slow updates might be a consequence, though the doctor says mental excercise will do me good. There might be more updates. Then again, I might take up maths. :wacko:
I would really appreciate if during the next two weeks or so if you post feedback you report these things. I will then change them if they are typos, and inform you if they are meant to be... This is just a sort of measure to see if my fear is correct.
Sorry for dumping my personal problems on you guys,
DW
Dead William said:
Oh damn, really sorry to hear that. I hope that you are or will be all right in the nearest of future. As for the request: I will honour your call in your time of need and report to my best abilities if i see such things.
All the best to you and remeber: what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger!
That guy sounds like an idiot. At least you are in a position where you appaer to be getting better.
Chapter I: Ludwig
The son was shining down from a clear blue sky and was heating the snow that lay upon the dark green branches of the fir trees, heating it just enough to cause the occasional drop of melt water to land upon the snow-covered, frozen ground. Ludwig and his men were on the move again, far more slowly than he had wished, but as he had feared his men were not practiced riders, certainly in the prevailing circumstances, and the horses were, in many cases, fit only for boiling down into a stew. But they were moving. The main road was not far now, and after four days in the hills and mountain country, dragging the horses up hill and carefully leading them downhill, the hazardous paths made even more dangerous by the wintry conditions, Ludwig was very glad to get there. Ludwig himself had not ridden, or travelled with a horse, a more accurate description of what they had been doing, in quite a while. He was stiff, sore and cold. His men were in worse condition, but their spirits were high, after their victory over the Bernermen. They joked and laughed, even as they slipped and as small loads of sodden snow fell onto their heads.
Ludwig was less sanguine. His father, now long dead, and his uncle Erhardt, wherever he might be, had always told him to trust his instinct in battle and war. Since both men had been professional warriors, Ludwig had decided to pay careful attention to this warning. And he knew that Feinwenger would not abandon a chase, no matter how much Ludwig might want him too, no matter how bad the weather or how terrible the roads. Feinwenger had a reputation, and Ludwig did not think the calm man in the blue cloak was going to squander that reputation in a minor skirmish with a minor knight. Soon they would be outside the area where the Eidgenossen might enforce there will by right, but a determined captain could well lead a raid deeper into what should be safe territory. And Feinwenger was determined, if everything Ludwig had heard about him was true. Some of the other things Ludwig had heard tell about Feinwenger did not bear thinking about. Ludwig shivered. Soon they would get to the river Aare and need to cross. And the only way to cross would be by the bridge near Klingnau, not a very safe place for Ludwig and his men. But it was the only viable option open to them. Sighing Ludwig decided that worrying would be no use until he knew what they faced. It had been another piece of advice his father and uncle had given him, but one he found difficult to follow.
Chapter I: Reichenberg
Karl Droich was preparing a mutiny. The 14 men left behind were the wounded and the most useless of the cronies. And Greis. After four day, Greis was not popular amongst the eighteen, since he made them stand watch, refrain from drinking too much and had forbidden further plunder and rape. The fourteen had had enough. Droich looked at them and was pleased. They had been given plentiful wine from the stash he had brought with him, they were armed and they were many. Greis was a single, old man. Karl looked at Herman Golzing, the second son of a rich merchant of Bern, along for the plunder and the fun.
“Herman, you will lead the attack. Do it while he sleeps, so no one gets hurt. Except him.”
Herman grinned. He pulled his knife from his belt and started whetting it on a stone. Herman felt no compunction about killing a man in his sleep.
Ivo Brinwiss did. He was the youngest of the fourteen, the third son of Hugo Brinwiss, a minor merchant and furrier. Ivo had a sister not much older than the girl Folger had molested, and he had realized it might have been her and his mother in that hut. Merely killing a man for not allowing that, was not right. Rising silently, adjusting his codpiece as if he was planning to relive himself, Ivo went out to look for Greis.
He found Greis in the smithy the old man had taken as his base. He seemed more comfortable there than he did in the great house and had moved there even before Feinwenger had left the village.
Standing in the doorway, Ivo hesitated. Greis was sitting on a long, rough pine wood bench, carefully rubbing his sword with an oiled cloth, never letting his bare fingers come into contact with the shining metal. Fine engravings, the details of which Ivo could not make out, shone out from the blue-grey metal. Greis looked up.
“Clos’ dur, lad. Cold ut.”
Ivo mad his decision, walking in and closing the door.
“The other want to kill you. Herman Golzing will knife you as you sleep.”
Greis grunted.”Och.”
Ivo was annoyed at he minimal reaction to a piece of news he had expected to bring considerable excitement, and which might put his own life in danger. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I would be worried! You are big and strong, but you are only one man!”
Greis grunted again. “Uch.”
Ivo was fast loosing patience with the old fool, no matter how capable in a fight. “Look, you old fool! Unless you flee, they will kill you!”
Greis grunted again. “Din’ but run a’ Sempach.”
Ivo was about to yell at the old man again when the meaning of his words sank in. His voice, which he had hoped had settled into manly tones, came out a squeaky tenor. “Sempach? You were at Sempach?”
Greis looked up from his polishing. “Oy wurse.”
Very carefully Ivo sat down, on the same bench as Greis. “Sempach.”
Greis hefted his huge sword and looked along its length. “Gut me hir sword thur.”
Then he grinned and stamped his foot. The door to the smithy itself opened. Four other men, tough, well armed men from Feinwenger’s picked group trouped in. The tallest of the men, Furcher von Zürch, grinned at Ivo.
“And he won’t be fighting on his own, either. The captain told us to hide out. If nothing happened, fine. If Broich and his boys got big heads, we was supposed to beat them down to size. Guess we will.”
Ivo looked at the five men in the room, comparing them in his mind to the play-soldiers in the hall. These were men who knew how to fight, really, truly fight. Suddenly he felt very glad that he had come to tell Greis about the plan.
The son was shining down from a clear blue sky and was heating the snow that lay upon the dark green branches of the fir trees, heating it just enough to cause the occasional drop of melt water to land upon the snow-covered, frozen ground. Ludwig and his men were on the move again, far more slowly than he had wished, but as he had feared his men were not practiced riders, certainly in the prevailing circumstances, and the horses were, in many cases, fit only for boiling down into a stew. But they were moving. The main road was not far now, and after four days in the hills and mountain country, dragging the horses up hill and carefully leading them downhill, the hazardous paths made even more dangerous by the wintry conditions, Ludwig was very glad to get there. Ludwig himself had not ridden, or travelled with a horse, a more accurate description of what they had been doing, in quite a while. He was stiff, sore and cold. His men were in worse condition, but their spirits were high, after their victory over the Bernermen. They joked and laughed, even as they slipped and as small loads of sodden snow fell onto their heads.
Ludwig was less sanguine. His father, now long dead, and his uncle Erhardt, wherever he might be, had always told him to trust his instinct in battle and war. Since both men had been professional warriors, Ludwig had decided to pay careful attention to this warning. And he knew that Feinwenger would not abandon a chase, no matter how much Ludwig might want him too, no matter how bad the weather or how terrible the roads. Feinwenger had a reputation, and Ludwig did not think the calm man in the blue cloak was going to squander that reputation in a minor skirmish with a minor knight. Soon they would be outside the area where the Eidgenossen might enforce there will by right, but a determined captain could well lead a raid deeper into what should be safe territory. And Feinwenger was determined, if everything Ludwig had heard about him was true. Some of the other things Ludwig had heard tell about Feinwenger did not bear thinking about. Ludwig shivered. Soon they would get to the river Aare and need to cross. And the only way to cross would be by the bridge near Klingnau, not a very safe place for Ludwig and his men. But it was the only viable option open to them. Sighing Ludwig decided that worrying would be no use until he knew what they faced. It had been another piece of advice his father and uncle had given him, but one he found difficult to follow.
Chapter I: Reichenberg
Karl Droich was preparing a mutiny. The 14 men left behind were the wounded and the most useless of the cronies. And Greis. After four day, Greis was not popular amongst the eighteen, since he made them stand watch, refrain from drinking too much and had forbidden further plunder and rape. The fourteen had had enough. Droich looked at them and was pleased. They had been given plentiful wine from the stash he had brought with him, they were armed and they were many. Greis was a single, old man. Karl looked at Herman Golzing, the second son of a rich merchant of Bern, along for the plunder and the fun.
“Herman, you will lead the attack. Do it while he sleeps, so no one gets hurt. Except him.”
Herman grinned. He pulled his knife from his belt and started whetting it on a stone. Herman felt no compunction about killing a man in his sleep.
Ivo Brinwiss did. He was the youngest of the fourteen, the third son of Hugo Brinwiss, a minor merchant and furrier. Ivo had a sister not much older than the girl Folger had molested, and he had realized it might have been her and his mother in that hut. Merely killing a man for not allowing that, was not right. Rising silently, adjusting his codpiece as if he was planning to relive himself, Ivo went out to look for Greis.
He found Greis in the smithy the old man had taken as his base. He seemed more comfortable there than he did in the great house and had moved there even before Feinwenger had left the village.
Standing in the doorway, Ivo hesitated. Greis was sitting on a long, rough pine wood bench, carefully rubbing his sword with an oiled cloth, never letting his bare fingers come into contact with the shining metal. Fine engravings, the details of which Ivo could not make out, shone out from the blue-grey metal. Greis looked up.
“Clos’ dur, lad. Cold ut.”
Ivo mad his decision, walking in and closing the door.
“The other want to kill you. Herman Golzing will knife you as you sleep.”
Greis grunted.”Och.”
Ivo was annoyed at he minimal reaction to a piece of news he had expected to bring considerable excitement, and which might put his own life in danger. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I would be worried! You are big and strong, but you are only one man!”
Greis grunted again. “Uch.”
Ivo was fast loosing patience with the old fool, no matter how capable in a fight. “Look, you old fool! Unless you flee, they will kill you!”
Greis grunted again. “Din’ but run a’ Sempach.”
Ivo was about to yell at the old man again when the meaning of his words sank in. His voice, which he had hoped had settled into manly tones, came out a squeaky tenor. “Sempach? You were at Sempach?”
Greis looked up from his polishing. “Oy wurse.”
Very carefully Ivo sat down, on the same bench as Greis. “Sempach.”
Greis hefted his huge sword and looked along its length. “Gut me hir sword thur.”
Then he grinned and stamped his foot. The door to the smithy itself opened. Four other men, tough, well armed men from Feinwenger’s picked group trouped in. The tallest of the men, Furcher von Zürch, grinned at Ivo.
“And he won’t be fighting on his own, either. The captain told us to hide out. If nothing happened, fine. If Broich and his boys got big heads, we was supposed to beat them down to size. Guess we will.”
Ivo looked at the five men in the room, comparing them in his mind to the play-soldiers in the hall. These were men who knew how to fight, really, truly fight. Suddenly he felt very glad that he had come to tell Greis about the plan.
Deus, J. Passepartout, thanks for the kind words. I am getting better, but yes, the guy did not seem all there to me....
A short update. Do you guys prefer short updates or longer ones? Complaints about cliffhangers won't be considered.
DW
A short update. Do you guys prefer short updates or longer ones? Complaints about cliffhangers won't be considered.
DW
Whatever works really, but 2-4 pages always seems a good ballpark to aim for.
And a clever set-up all round. I have this perfect image of Gries in my head.
And a clever set-up all round. I have this perfect image of Gries in my head.
I say write whatever length you think is good, provided it is not excessively short or long.
Ludwig and company seem like they will escape as long as they keep up like they are now. And considering the situation with Droich and his men, hopefully we can circle around and rid the castle of them all when they are fighting each other.
Ludwig and company seem like they will escape as long as they keep up like they are now. And considering the situation with Droich and his men, hopefully we can circle around and rid the castle of them all when they are fighting each other.
A well written and intriguing tale, Dead William. I'm looking forward to see Greis cut down the odious Droich.
EDIT: Sorry to hear about your incident. I hope the maniac gets what he deserves!
I'm looking forward to see Greis cut down the odious Droich. EDIT: Sorry to hear about your incident.
I hope the maniac gets what he deserves!
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