If one marched from the north, from Ludlow to Wigmore and then towards Radnor, the it was the next valley over, just past some rolling hills that were common in this part of the marches. Facing from the north, this valley was flanked on the left (east) by gentler hills and a forested ridge, beneath which lay the older village of Radnor and its castle nestled against the hillocks. New Radnor was opposite it on the right side (west), sitting below a higher set of peaks, part of the hunting grounds known as Radnor Forest - the countess of March had been hunting there just days prior. The highest of these peaks was Rhos Fawr, brown and flat topped and unimposing.
Modern View of Old Radnor from the west, facing east, from New Radnor
Across this basin then was laid out not hundreds, but several thousand men - at the least - mustered about from one half of Radnor to the other. Little blue banners stood out, but more common were the royal arms of the Confessor and the lillies and leopards. The largest banner was of a black bull, bearing its horns as if ready to charge an unseen foe. Some sort of lettering surrounded the bull but it was unintelligible from so far away.
Edmund Mortimer, Lord de Chirkland
- 22 years old
- Temperaments: Melancholic & Supine
- Meticulous: +1 detection rolls, -5% movement speed.
- Pessimistic: +1 to survival rolls, -1 to AI reaction rolls.
- Idealistic: +1 to AI reaction rolls, -1 to rout/assassination/escape rolls.
- Skill Points: 6
- Personal Combat: +2
- Rearguard: +2
- Battles +2
- Inventory: none
Characters inside Radnor Castle:
- Eleanor Holland, Countess of March and Countess of Ulster, 27 years old
- Edward Mortimer, first son, 3 years old
- Thomas Mortimer, second son, 1 year old
- etc. + Mortimer's remaining treasury
Last edited by Dirty Chai; April 25, 2017 at 05:28 PM.
Arriving first to the field of battle was the Baron Maltravers, who was riding forwards as an outrider and a scout. Thus, his banner was the first to be place across the the rolling plains of Radnor. The 80 men of the Baron hunkered down and set up pickets, waiting for the main army to arrive.
Arriving from the opposite side of the basin appeared to be an innumerable horde of soldiers: over ten thousand, at least, all forming up some distance from Mortimer's lines. Archers, footmen, men-at-arms, carrying a vast array of crude steel weapons, various banners fluttering above their head. The royal variants of Lancaster, York, and Buckingham, Neville and Percy, the baron Arundel. Smaller devices, numerous in their variety, roses, animals, ornate letters, were too on display, a parade of those who were discontented with the rule of the king. Here they gathered, below Radnor, forming up into the battle-squares frequented by the English since the days of Crecy and Poitiers. Then, they stood still. Figures on horseback in glinting armour sat at the forefront of this host, trotting forward, a cross held aloft to indicate the wish to parley.
Army info
Characters/Commanders
Henry of Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster: +3 battles, +7 survival, +1 charisma, +16 personal combat, +5 post battle condition rolls, +20 hp
Harry Percy, Earl of Northumberland: +3 Logistician (+20% movement), +9 Survival, +4 Battles, -1 Charisma, +8 Duels, +1 rout rolls, +20hp
Edward of Norwich, Duke of York: 4+ Battles, +2 personal combat, +20HP, +14 Duels, +5 Survival, +5 post battle
Humphrey, Earl of Buckingham: +10 Survival, +2 Charisma, +9 Duels, +0 Battles, -1 Joust, +1 Detection, -5% movement speed, +20hp
Ralph Neville, Earl of Westmorland: +4 battle, +12 duels, +10 survival, +5 post battle condition rolls, +20 hp
Thomas Neville, Lord of Hallamshire: -1 battle, +7 duels, +6 survival, +4 post battle rolls, +20 hp
John FitzAlan, Baron Maltravers: +3 Battles +2 Logistician +17 Duels +5 Survival +5 Post Battle Rolls +20 HP
Sir Henry Beaufort: +3 Charisma, +10 Survival, +7 Duels, +3 Battles, -1 to rout/assassination/escape rolls, +20hp
Last edited by Gandalfus; April 26, 2017 at 02:00 PM.
The leaders opposite them, under a black bull and a white lion, apparently agree to the parlay, approaching opposite on their own horses - not that there should have been fears that they might do otherwise, for the parlay is custom. As the two parties close in, the smaller one heralded by not only Mortimer and Clarence's badges but also a white hart for the king, the shapes and forms of the main riders begin to become clearer: at the center was without a doubt the Earl of March, towering over his companions; beside him was likely his brother, Edmund Mortimer, and there was a small handful of Welsh nobles all around the two, with those at the forefront wearing royal badges as knights from the northwest. Neither of the two Mortimers wore much in the way of armor, though, with the elder one even just wearing a tunic and a coat - what you might expect on a hunting trip.
Last edited by Dirty Chai; April 25, 2017 at 06:18 PM.
"Hail, cousin March." Spoke the Duke of Lancaster, with a raised hand. An unremarkable man, though with a bearded, slightly weathered face that Mortimer would undoubtedly recognise, for it was not long ago that he spent the Easter at Mortimer's expense. York, Buckingham, and all the other peers rode alongside him, wearing their respective livery badges, Lancaster himself wearing the swan of the Bohun earls.
"You stand against us, then, in this war His Majesty has undertaken to destroy us." That much was obvious, but it was at least polite to observe some form of courtesy, though Bolingbroke's tone did not indicate that it was such. "Or am I mistaken, and you have raised this impressive force to aid us in defending our rights?"
Maltraverssat idly in his saddle, tired in the heat of the day with full plate on. He had had little chance to catch up on sleep and he looked ready to simply start snoring. Regardless, he listened closely to the ongoing negotiations, feeling an odd desire to fight a duel.
The black haired and green eyed grandson of the Duke of Clarence eyed each of the peers before him as if counting them, and looked quite bitter to see Percy among them - even from afar, his brother-in-law's banners felt like a great betrayal. Still, he had the self-restraint to show courtesy to those elevated higher than him, even when so clearly having a poor time of it.
"Hail, I acknowledge thee, lord Lancaster," he greeted in return, choosing not to reciprocate the concept of cousinhood considering the context.
"I do not think we stand to protect the same rights, however," Mortimer eyed Henry of Bolingbroke finally, his focus upon him.
"Clearly not, for you bear the King's banner, and sit at the head of this force raised at his will undoubtedly to destroy us." Retorted the Duke, casually, unabashed by Mortimer's stare, directing his gaze towards the men who stood behind the Earl of March, letting it linger for a moment before returning his attentions to their commander.
"Our rights are God given, enshrined within the charter. His Majesty has broken and threaten to break these numerous times." Lancaster paused briefly, as if chewing the words before spitting them out. "But I am certain you already know our grievances." Perhaps Richard had revealed what had been discussed at Halton. Or, then again, likely not. Neither side covered themselves in much dignity, after all.
York sat upon his white horse, wearing the finest full plate armor in England, perhaps even the world. His great sword on his hip.
"Join us, or join the King in defeat." He added to Lancaster's words. "We are honorable people. We shall not harm you in any capacity should you chose to aid us."
Mortimer paused a moment, considering his next words. In the end, he decided to not refrain.
"Or mine, or that of my sons, rather? My wife's, my brother's, her brothers'..."
The knights at his side hadn't quite caught on, but the Earl of March was now beginning to state his motives, which were not exactly on behalf of the king. He fully expected them to chafe at this, but certainly not in front of the enemy. However, Roger eyed the peers again - all of the ones he recognized, at least - inspecting how they presented themselves, how they reacted in expression to what he might say.
"Let us read to the end of tale, shall we?" he suggested, sonorously, as if his opponents needed a patient speaker, enunciating clearly.
"This ends.. if you have your way," he gestured directly the Duke of Lancaster, letting it sit for a moment, "with the Duke of Lancaster becoming a King of England, I think."
Another pause. "You all knew this and know this now, otherwise I think you'd not be here; thus.."
The Earl of March sniffed, frowned. "Conspiracy. Forgive me if I begin to think it is I who am protecting my rights, rather than you, Lord Lancaster."
"That was not what I requested of his Majesty at Halton, Lord Mortimer. I could have seized the crown there, for Richard was in my lands, within my grasp, and had done me wrong. I let him go, as you well know. I am no traitor, for the law of the land is on my side."
Bolingbroke gave a bemused frown, as if Mortimer's words greatly irked him, frustrated him, just as the Earl stood before him now, all taunts and hidden mockery.
"This ends with a reckoning. The King has chosen to not hear us, but destroy us. I am not your enemy, but I am here to strike down the hand that would swat us. From where I am standing, you are that hand. Forgive me, Lord Mortimer, if I think your point of view is askew, but there is no conspiracy. There is only us against a tyrant who wishes us dead and gone, families ground to dust."
He gestured to Mortimer with a vague jab of a finger.
"Of course, you gain from that. You'd be king of all the ashes, the heir to this graveyard of England."
Last edited by Gandalfus; April 25, 2017 at 07:12 PM.
"There's little choice for me, as it happens in my eyes. With you as king, I'd be crushed under heel, as that horrid heir to Clarence. My mere existence is a threat to you."
Mortimer was bitter, defensive; a cornered animal rather than anything else.
"Do not deny your enmity for my mother's blood. Even if you disinherit me, my sons, from succession, yours would still be a questionable crown. Your heirs would not rest easy while mine exercise their rights of freedom and land. That, lord Lancaster, is what I cannot allow to happen."
The royal knights at his side seemed ready to abandon him, if not for the common cause still. It seemed as if, to them, that Mortimer would selfishly save himself and abandon the king.
Harry Percy finally speaks, looking at the man who he called his brother.
Do not throw your life away, Lord Mortimer. Hear me when I say this, I once spoke to Lord Lancaster about you, out of concern for your sister who is certainly most worried about your future in this rising storm, and he said he sees not as his enemy. Only if you raised your banners and prevented him from seeking justice, from seeking to right the wrongs of this realm that our fathers all helped create. Only if you raised your sword at him would he see you as his enemy. I say this now, do not raise your blade at him, for Lord Lancaster is not your enemy! For he does not seek to be yours.
Northumberland did not wish to see Mortimer destroyed, he wished to see him be removed from the shadow of Richard and return to the light that England needed.
We asked the King for Parliament, for a council to help govern the land as it should be. To have offices be filled with good noble men and once more be at work. Yet Richard spat on our demands, declaring us errant rebels for desiring that treaties be upheld, that law be obeyed by all, even His Majesty! Yet he said that he was above the law. That he obeys no one or nothing but God who anointed him. How can a King simply turn against the Great Charter and spit upon it? How can a King do that? And worse, view us as rebels for trying to uphold that very law that exists.
Harry keeps his eyes fixated upon Mortimer, hoping to bring him to his senses.
Do not follow the tyrant. Do not simply turn away from this chance, for us, for all of us, to restore England to the glory of Edward III! So that the stagnation that exists can be overturned and our beloved realm can be thrusted to greater heights that even our ancestors only dreamed of!
Last edited by Lucius Malfoy; April 26, 2017 at 08:04 AM.
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"I'm not here to kill or harm you or your heirs, Lord Mortimer. I am no butcher, ruled by paranoia." Lancaster looked towards the Earl of Northumberland, glad for his sensible intervention in this. "You think Richard cares which one of us is his heir? He only cares that we are set against each other, that we are foes. If we destroy each other, only he gains from this." Henry remembered how Richard's preference was for Exeter's son to succeed to his crown, but the realm balked at the prospect of having a Holland sit the throne of England. "With all the discontented voices silenced, he'd be free to do as he pleased. To name whoever he wished, to rule absolute. We do not wish for that, and neither do you."
York stood watching once more, it seemed the council of his brother-in-law was once more, more valued then his. York felt unpleased, his contributions not valued.
He let out a heavy sigh at the pointless talking at every turn in this campaign.
"It is time to decide." He said.
"Talk gets us nowhere, you have the word of all present you or your heirs lawfully begotten are done no harm if you join us. Decide now my Lord."
"I concur with cousin York. If you are staying this course, then we shall ride back to our lines as we shall have nothing else to discuss." Agreed Lancaster, simple and to the point.
York nodded, his cousin had acknowledged his point and it calmed him down. He has felt irritation about the coalition since the summit at Sandal Castle. Lancaster however did his best to smooth this over, first by agreeing to the points York wanted to see fulfilled, then the command of the prestigious right flank and now by agreeing in public.
Harry ing Percy. Mortimer didn't want to see this man ever again, he was sure. He looked indignant now, the Arabian warhorse beneath him - a gift from the king years ago - uneasily shifting.
"I cannot accept your word without assurances," Roger said. "Else, off my land."
As it happened, they met in a fallow field, owned by one of the two manors of Radnor.
The Valley of Radnor
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ing Percy. Mortimer didn't want to see this man ever again, he was sure. He looked indignant now, the Arabian warhorse beneath him - a gift from the king years ago - uneasily shifting.
