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Help[Games] Re: Saphirdufeu’s Royal Congrats - Round 8 Done
in reply to a message by saphirdufeu
House of Fairfax
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [65]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [46]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [28]
---DH: Conrad Teodoric Restault, Count of Blois [28]
----DS: Lucas Alasdair [7]
----DD: Eleanore Jane [4]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Earl of Arundel [26]
---DFiancée: Isabel Bernardine, Baroness Mulgrave [27]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [d.]
--DS: Benedict Philip, Earl of Richmond [22]
---DW: Adriana Rosario Adela Sandoval, Viscountesss of Cabrera [20]
----DD: Julia Maura Inez [1]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [45]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [42]
--DS: Prince Jehan Leopold Walter [d.]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [42]
-DW: Princess Dorothea Cateline Rennes, Countess of Anjou [40]
--DD: Cecily Honora [18]
---DFiancé: Isidore Magnus, Earl of Pembroke [22]
--DD: Marion Sabeline [17]
---DFiancé: Leonard Raphael, Earl of Hereford [19]
--DS: Adrian Valentine [15]
--DS: Amaury Noel [14]
--DD: Mary Eulalia [d.]
Five years later. Few things happened in the political realm, but plenty of little tidbits happened in the personal realm, which everyone knows is almost the same thing if you're a politician, which nobility inevitably tend to be.
Four years ago, Antony died of an accident while off hunting in the woods. An ill-fated boar hunt turned awry when storm clouds crashed the party, causing the hunters to turn tail and call it a day. Alas, their path home involves crossing an open field, and eager to flee the drenching rainfall as quickly as possible, Antony urged them to move forward. It was then that a particularly ambitious and anti-feualistic bolt of lightning decided to strike the Earl as he led his men across the field. A scout was also injured in the incident, and three hunting dogs were nearly lost in the panic, but Antony and his horse were the only fatal casualties of the day. Matilda was shocked, though not quite as shocked as her husband was. Gossip disagreed on whether Antony had offended God and earned divine retribution on some way, or if it was Matilda who was so unlucky as to be widowed twice.
Still, the cycle of life continues, and Matilda's loss was followed by the births of two grand-daughters: Eleanore, called Nell, and Julia. She doted upon her grandchildren, finding her solace in their bubbling laughter and half-baked sentences. In other times, she travelled to Arundel, where Harry had finally consented to a betrothal, accepting Isabel of Mulgrave as his fiancée.
Hal, too, had not escaped unscathed from the random twists and coils of fate. A small but organised band of malcontents decided that ambushing him would be a better idea than the Queen Mother. They made certain that Rufus would be elsewhere at the time, organising betrothals for his eldest daughters, before timing their attack in a quiet countryside pit stop between cities. They knew Rufus, with his silent step and remarkable skill of being unnoticed, would disarray their plans like an oil slick on a dance floor; what they didn't know was that when King Richard's sons were still children, it was Hal who taught Rufus how to do these things.
They attacked Hal's bedchamber, climbing in from the windows and disabling his guards to burst in from the doors, in the dead of night. They found him still awake, sitting in his nightshirt and writing by candlelight. The leader raised his curved blade, shouted at the surrounded king to surrender and be taken hostage.
Hal rose slowly and looked them over. Then, he blew out the candle.
The attackers realised there was no fire in the hearth, no light from the empty countryside outside the window, nothing but blackness.
They said pen is mightier than the sword. Hal only had a feather quill. It could only be mightier than one eyeball, but the eyeball's owner had a poniard.
A scream in the darkness, cut short. The remaining attackers swung madly, fought desperately, did everything they could. When the guards rushed in with torches, there were only two rebels still standing, and the king had somehow acquired a curved blade.
Hal escaped the altercation, but not unharmed. His left hand narrowly evaded amputation, and he walked with a cane from then on, having recieved a crossbow bolt to the knee. Rufus, rejoining his brother as soon as news arrived, immediately sent out enquiries about this latest cadre of rebels and the possibility of more existing. But none was more terrified after hearing the attack than young Adrian, who had been living in the royal palace for the past couple years as he continued to prepare for the potential of kingship. He was adamant that the people who had tried to kill his Uncle Hal must be senseless madmen, and was inconsolable for the next few days until his father pointed out that rebels, senseless madmen or not, are rarely intimidated by a sulking teenager. Adrian doubled his resolve to learn the ins and outs of kinging, determined to avoid such brushes with death himself.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
DH: King Richard Christopher Samuel [d.]
DW: Dowager Queen Beatrice Edith Sybillia [65]
DD: Matilda Anne Christine, Countess of Richmond [46]
-DH: George Nicolas, Earl of Arundel [d.]
--DD: Helen Susanna Euphemia [28]
---DH: Conrad Teodoric Restault, Count of Blois [28]
----DS: Lucas Alasdair [7]
----DD: Eleanore Jane [4]
--DS: Henry Fabian Richard, Earl of Arundel [26]
---DFiancée: Isabel Bernardine, Baroness Mulgrave [27]
-DH: Antony Peregrin Mercier, Earl of Richmond [d.]
--DS: Benedict Philip, Earl of Richmond [22]
---DW: Adriana Rosario Adela Sandoval, Viscountesss of Cabrera [20]
----DD: Julia Maura Inez [1]
DS: King Henry Valerian Ambrose [45]
-DW: Queen Louise Charlotte, Duchess of Aquitaine [42]
--DS: Prince Jehan Leopold Walter [d.]
DS: Prince Rufus Joscelin Ives [42]
-DW: Princess Dorothea Cateline Rennes, Countess of Anjou [40]
--DD: Cecily Honora [18]
---DFiancé: Isidore Magnus, Earl of Pembroke [22]
--DD: Marion Sabeline [17]
---DFiancé: Leonard Raphael, Earl of Hereford [19]
--DS: Adrian Valentine [15]
--DS: Amaury Noel [14]
--DD: Mary Eulalia [d.]
Five years later. Few things happened in the political realm, but plenty of little tidbits happened in the personal realm, which everyone knows is almost the same thing if you're a politician, which nobility inevitably tend to be.
Four years ago, Antony died of an accident while off hunting in the woods. An ill-fated boar hunt turned awry when storm clouds crashed the party, causing the hunters to turn tail and call it a day. Alas, their path home involves crossing an open field, and eager to flee the drenching rainfall as quickly as possible, Antony urged them to move forward. It was then that a particularly ambitious and anti-feualistic bolt of lightning decided to strike the Earl as he led his men across the field. A scout was also injured in the incident, and three hunting dogs were nearly lost in the panic, but Antony and his horse were the only fatal casualties of the day. Matilda was shocked, though not quite as shocked as her husband was. Gossip disagreed on whether Antony had offended God and earned divine retribution on some way, or if it was Matilda who was so unlucky as to be widowed twice.
Still, the cycle of life continues, and Matilda's loss was followed by the births of two grand-daughters: Eleanore, called Nell, and Julia. She doted upon her grandchildren, finding her solace in their bubbling laughter and half-baked sentences. In other times, she travelled to Arundel, where Harry had finally consented to a betrothal, accepting Isabel of Mulgrave as his fiancée.
Hal, too, had not escaped unscathed from the random twists and coils of fate. A small but organised band of malcontents decided that ambushing him would be a better idea than the Queen Mother. They made certain that Rufus would be elsewhere at the time, organising betrothals for his eldest daughters, before timing their attack in a quiet countryside pit stop between cities. They knew Rufus, with his silent step and remarkable skill of being unnoticed, would disarray their plans like an oil slick on a dance floor; what they didn't know was that when King Richard's sons were still children, it was Hal who taught Rufus how to do these things.
They attacked Hal's bedchamber, climbing in from the windows and disabling his guards to burst in from the doors, in the dead of night. They found him still awake, sitting in his nightshirt and writing by candlelight. The leader raised his curved blade, shouted at the surrounded king to surrender and be taken hostage.
Hal rose slowly and looked them over. Then, he blew out the candle.
The attackers realised there was no fire in the hearth, no light from the empty countryside outside the window, nothing but blackness.
They said pen is mightier than the sword. Hal only had a feather quill. It could only be mightier than one eyeball, but the eyeball's owner had a poniard.
A scream in the darkness, cut short. The remaining attackers swung madly, fought desperately, did everything they could. When the guards rushed in with torches, there were only two rebels still standing, and the king had somehow acquired a curved blade.
Hal escaped the altercation, but not unharmed. His left hand narrowly evaded amputation, and he walked with a cane from then on, having recieved a crossbow bolt to the knee. Rufus, rejoining his brother as soon as news arrived, immediately sent out enquiries about this latest cadre of rebels and the possibility of more existing. But none was more terrified after hearing the attack than young Adrian, who had been living in the royal palace for the past couple years as he continued to prepare for the potential of kingship. He was adamant that the people who had tried to kill his Uncle Hal must be senseless madmen, and was inconsolable for the next few days until his father pointed out that rebels, senseless madmen or not, are rarely intimidated by a sulking teenager. Adrian doubled his resolve to learn the ins and outs of kinging, determined to avoid such brushes with death himself.
Mutatis mutandis. Si non confectus, non reficiat.
This message was edited 7/30/2018, 4:00 AM
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