Spring 1221: Prelude- Et cetera

Soprhonia spends a moment drying herself.
Perdo is her weakest technique, but a Comfort of the Drenched Traveller, cast ceremonially at range personal drops it to 4th level: Perdo 2+ Aquam 0 + Int 2 + Aura 5 + AL 3 + Philo 1 + Die roll of 8 =21/5=4.2, success.

After drying herself, she will rest for a few minutes to recover from the effort and then proceed towards the camp. She was dressed in robes for the meeting, not Tremere robes. i'm thinking of something grey that is clean, nice looking and not fancy.

Getting bearings of where she is exactly Per 2 + Area Lore: Gallus Flroensis 1 + Die roll of 9=12. ((I'm unclear as to how far away from the Manor House and the Lighthouse she is.))

She'll approach the camp holding obviously and carefully, giving any perimeter guards plenty of opportunity to intercept and question her. At her first meeting, she'll ask them to send her onto their sergeant and/or commanding officer. She'll identify herself as Sophronia of Gallus Florensis ((if she' knows the prince is actually here in this camp, and not waiting in the manor, she'll indicate she has an answer about the archers.))

You rolled a die and took time to recover, so I assume you fatigued yourself and meant to divide by 2 instead of 5. And I'll assume you added a Terram and Herbam requisite to get the mud and various marsh-stuffs out, too.

She was teleported directly west of the lighthouse, into the swampiest part of the marsh. The camp is to the north by a mile or so.

Problem with that is Sophronia has only a 2 in Welsh, which only covers basic conversational proficiency. (Introductions, talking about the weather and hobbies, a bit about food and drink, "where is the privy," etc.)

She approaches a pair of guards and says, "Hello, how-are-you-today, my-name-is, Sophronia, maga Gallus Florensis." The two men jibe with each other too quickly for you to catch what they're saying. One leans forward, and you catch the words for "you," "camp," and "dress." Sophronia doesn't know any military terminology in Welsh, but she does know the word for Prince, and when you ask "I-would-like to-see Prince," they laugh raucously and call over some woman dressed like a minor gentlewoman. She takes Sophia by the arm and leads her to a small tent, where she proceeds to search through a trunk and pull out a blue dress and holds it against Sophia. She speaks slowly enough that Sophia understands "I think this will <you assume this word means "fit"> you."

((It appears that Atlas ate this post. It died for a short time on or around this time. Anyway, with the spell, yes, I think adding a requisite would work. I'd meant to divide by two, not 5. I know better, but I was really tired when I posted my actions. If you're fine with adding the requisite, Sophronia would've done it, otherwise, she'd clean herself up in a more manual fashion.))

If the woman is staying in the tent and assisting her getting dressed (that's the kind of thing that was done in the period, right?), she'll allow the assistance and cast Peering into the Mortal Mind to get a sense of her motivations, and what she might know about her upcoming encounter with the Prince.

She'll point to herself and say, "Sophronia. How are you called?" Pointing back at the lady.

"You can call me Cerys," she says with exaggerated enunciation.

Reading her mind: The guards told her you're a camp follower looking to make a living as a prostitute. She thinks you're nowhere near pretty enough for the Prince, but she suspects you're just the type one of the lieutenants prefers.

**Note that this misunderstanding is not indicative of any especial misogyny on behalf of the Prince's men, but rather just medieval paradigm-- invariably all women who show up to a war camp are of that particular profession.

((I thought as much...))
"Not whore. Talk to prince about archers." Sophronia will pantomime drawing a bow. She will not change her outfit, or change back into her robes once she figures out what's gone on.

"I speak with officer or prince not spread legs!" She'll make symbols for sex while shaking her head.

And Sophronia, with a +2 Presence is a damn sight better looking than most camp followers. :stuck_out_tongue:

((I can only imagine what kind of pantomimes you would use to convey that... And you say Sophia is LADYLIKE! ell-oh-ell.))

Cerys seems confused, and replies with exaggerated slowness, just a but too loudly, too. (Because if your Welsh is bad, your hearing must be, too.) "The Prince, does not, give (you assume contextually that the next word means "audience") to BLAH BLAH BLERGLE ("just anyone"? "random people"? Probably something like that). You--" she points at Sophia's arms, "too weak for (this word must be "archery"). You speak to lieutenant, he like blondes."

(+2 is pretty, but not Princess material :p)

She'll guide/escort Cerys from the tent. Placing her well away from the tent. She'll then cast Dance of the Staves on one of the poles, being sure that Cerys, herself, or anyone else, is out of range of being hit.

"I speak Prince, now?" With her hands on her hips, foot tapping.

((Who said she is ladylike? She can act ladylike when it suits her. Usually doesn't, though. And she doesn't want to be a princess.))

She doesn't put any causality on Sophia, and rushes off to get help putting her Serjeant's tent back up.

(Botched a Folk Ken. :p)

When that trollop comes back, she'll cast Confusion of the Numbed Will to get her to think Sophronia is the Prince's type and that she confused his type with the lieutenant's. ((CS of 22 v Level of 15))

((It's funny how an NPC botch inconveniences the PC...))

(Oh you don't know the half of it-- because the Prince isn't in the camp now, but some serjeant's wench wouldn't know that.)

Cerys smiles dumbly and conveys Sophia to, predictably, the largest tent in the camp, says "WAIT. HERE." and wanders off.

It's still midmorning, and after about an hour of waiting, a tall dark-haired man enters the tent, pretends he doesn't see Sophia, and lays fresh furs out on the cot.

"Where is the prince?" She'll itterate through each language she knows, starting and ending with Welsh.

The man glances at Sophia nervously, then quickly averts his eyes and doesn't respond.

Time to Peer into his Mortal Mind. "Again! Where is the Prince?"

He still doesn't answer, and shrinks away from her demands.

The manservant doesn't know. He seems to think it is rude to acknowledge the presence of a strange unescorted woman in the Prince's quarters, and he worries about what will happen should the Prince's brother-in-law discover her, or hear that she is there.

Let's root around in there....continuing to Peer... "Look at me. Where is prince? Who is in charge when Prince not here?" She'll try and get a bead on this brother-in-law to the prince.

The man won't make any further eye contact after that first furtive glance-- Sophia doesn't have Etiquette, but the manservant does, and Sophia peered into his mind long enough the first time to glean that acknowledging her existence under these circumstances would be the height of rudeness on his part.

She'd have to grab him by the face if she wants to cast another Eye range spell, and then she's not sure she wouldn't have to pry open his eyelids at that.

She'll go up to him and kiss him, hoping the act will startle him enough to open his eyes, allowhing him to Peer and get more detail. She will, of course, keep her eyes open.

snerk Yes, that does indeed have the desired effect :slight_smile: The servant's eyes fly open in utter shock... And more than a little fear.

This is simply not appropriate! is clearly his first thought. As you ask your questions, he answers aloud, "The Prince will be back any minute! You must leave immediately!" (and your Cymric is bad enough that you don't understand much of the lie) even as he thinks, when will that great oaf return our Prince? I've gone to all the trouble of making his Highness' favourite meal and he probably won't even be back before it's cold.

When she asks "Who powers when Prince gone?" the terrified manservant thinks to a stern-faced grayhair in brown scholarly robes... Likely the seneschal from whom the manservant takes orders, but highly unlikely to be a military second.

Scholarly robes. Immediately Sophronia becomes suspicious, and casts Bitter Taste of Betrayl Her CT is: In (17+3) + Vi (8) + Sta (1) - no gestures (10) - no words (5) + Die roll of 6, for a total of 20 vs 15th level spell.

A bit of guile, and she'll pretend to feel guilty for being caught, Com (3) + Guile 1 + Die roll of 0, but no botch=4, so probably not too successful with that.

She'll try and get out in her best Welsh, "How may I service my lord?"

((And here I thought you wanted people NOT to think you're a prostitute... "servicing the lord" in-DEED!))

Remember that 95%+ of the literati are clergymen of some sort, and it is a poor seneschal who can't do sums.

"Madam must leave. Immediately. Before the Prince returns." He shoos Sophia out of the tent and scurries away.