[D1, EE, EVENT] The Coronation Feast--Main Thread

[Cearnach]

Westminster Hall is bedecked with great banners and tapestries and lit by the glow of over 1,000 candles, creating a bright space that nonetheless casts dark shadows along the walls and in the corners. Tables have been strewn everywhere about the enormous space, save a small open space for entertainments before the high table at the far end of the hall and an aisle leading up to it from the main doors. Some 900 people share this space, broken up into tables set for four or eight, perhaps the largest gathering of knights and nobles in England for a generation.

At the head of the hall stands the High Table, at which are seated from left to right, Duchess Constance, Ranulf de Blondeville, Isabel de Clare, Prince John, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Richard Lionheart, William the Lion, Emma of Anjou, Archbishop Baldwin, and the Abbot of Westminster. Eleanor has the boy Arthur on her lap, while his older sister sits beside her mother.

Plates at the feast are large, but do not follow any prescribed menu or set of courses. One table might have venison, another duck, another eel pies. More common is that a large plate with several different entrees on it will be placed in front of the most important guest at a particular table, with the expectation that he or she will dole out choice bits to his neighbors. "Try this!" they might say. Others at the same table might receive smaller portions, or be expected to share one plate between two guests. A mess is a portion of a dish of food serving one or more persons. There were rules about how many people shared a mess according to rank. People equal in rank to bishops or marquesses sat 2 to a mess; people equal in rank to a baron or mitred abbot sat 2 or 3 to a mess; all ranks equal to a knight sat 3 or 4 to a mess and squires sat 4 to a mess. Only Earls and Royals (and their spouses) receive their own plates. The quantity of food will be immense, but the expectation is not the people assembled here will eat everything. In fact, the greater part of the food for the feast will end up being donated as leftovers to the poor of Westminster and London.

The entertainment for this feast is pre-scripted, and will pop up occasionally in this main thread. Seating is assigned by Eleanor of Aquitaine, but people are free to mingle. Please do be courteous of others, though, and try not to pile into a thread that already has a lot of visitors. There are many schemes to be hatched with all sorts of people. There also will be two mini-events that will pop up in this Main Thread which people may interact with: the Challenge and the Subtlety. Of course, this is also where each course will be announced! Enjoy the best (and perhaps the strangest) food England has to offer!!

[Cearnach]

A fanfare of trumpets announces the arrival of a single herald. He produces a scroll, well behind him slowly file in server after server, each bearing tremendous messes overflowing with food and jugs of wine. The herald unfurls a scroll and proclaims.

"RICHARD, KING! Queen Eleanor, Prince John, Dukes and Earls, Barons and Gentles, Lord Bishops and kind Fathers, Ladies of High Birth and Rare Virtue, I bring you the foundation of the king's feast, the first course of many presented to you for your nourishment and delight! This course features:

Potage: Frumentie with venison and broth Tuscaine (Frumentie is a dish of boiled wheat, milk, cinnamon and sugar. This version contains venison and a Tuscan broth.)
Viand comfort royall (Some sort of meat – fit for a king)
Mamory royall (A dish made of small pieces of partridge)
Beef and mutton
Pheasant en Traine (Pheasant with tail feathers displayed)
Cygnet roast
Crane roast
Capons of high Greece in lemons (Fat or crammed capons possibly with lemon)
Heronshewe roast (Young heron)
Great carpe of venison roast (Shredded or sliced venison)
Great luce in eger douce (A full grown pike in a sour-sweet sauce)
Leche solace (A kind of jelly with many different flavours – may be cut into leches or slices)
Friar Robert royall (Batter covered food fried in deep fat)
Great flampaine royall (A pie or tart decorated with points of pastry)
Custard, Edward planted (A custard is an open pie)."

As he says the name of each dish, the servers bearing messes of that dish break from their columns to begin delivering the succulent and sweet dishes to the appointed tables. The smell of delicious food is overwhelming.

"Let us truly enjoy what our God and His servant Richard, our King, have provided, raising our delight as fullest proof of our gratitude!"

At that Richard rises from his seat and tosses the herald a coin. The silver groat glints in the candle-light, describing its arc from the high table with flickering brilliance, only to be snatched out of the air by the clever herald, who bows once and, once more to the sound of trumpets, departs.

[Cearnach]

A second sennet of trumpets heralds the arrival of some fresh delight! The herald enters the hall through the main doors, stopping just before the High Table. Behind him, rolling forward on a cart with groaning wheels, is a model of the Holy City in pastry, complete with the Temple, the Holy Sepulcher, the Tower of David, and the Palace. The great dome of the Templum Domini has been executed in golden aspic, allowing the viewer to see, if hazily, the great stone where Abraham was asked to sacrifice Isaac rendered in tasty cake.

Amid the gasps and sighs of the assembled at the magnificence of Jerusalem, a second cart begins to make its way down the aisle, this one a pastry boat of enormous proportions. Inside, broiled roosters, with their feathers painstakingly re-attached and clad in pastry armor and wielding lances made of carrots and shields of roll with toasted nuts forming Richard's lions emblazoned upon them, ride roasted piglets toward the city they are destined to reclaim.

Richard receives the Subtlety with a shout of delight as he erupts from his seat. Presented with the knife for carving, he slices through the Tower of David in a single steady cut. The tower opens to reveal candied sculptures and accoutrements of a fortress--a veritable doll's house of miniature goodies reproducing the city in edible miniature. Even jaded Eleanor's eyes widen in surprise at the intricacy of this effort, and the Fair Maid of Brittany fairly leans across the High Table to pluck up a gingerbread Saracen from the Via Dolorosa and plop him in her mouth.

Though the High Table is served first, a small army of servers soon demolish ship and city, delivering pieces of it for each table to enjoy.

[William Marshal]

With the Pastry Holy City largely demolished, and the ruins of its towers and temples distributed for the guests to tuck in, there is some surprise as the trumpets sound once more and the great doors of the hall heave open.

This time, however, no herald arrives. Rather, one's attention is seized by an enormous roan charger topped with a knight in full armor, wielding sword and shield. He canters down the aisle, the steed's heaving flanks nearly brushing the backs of those seated along it. Upon reaching the High Table, the knight wheels his horse to face the hall and lifts his visor to reveal the handsome face of Robert Marmion, Baron of Tamworth, the King's Champion.

But he is not alone, for riding in after him is another knight. Indeed, it is the knight, for the tower of horseflesh and steel is surmounted by the great head of William Marshal. He rides to his brother knight's side and likewise wheels to face the crowd, sword drawn, visage stern, but it is Marmion who speaks in a loud, clear voice:

"If any person, be he highborn or of low degree, shall gainsay or deny the right of our dread lord Richard Lionheart, King of England, son and heir of Henry Curtmantle, our last king now deceased, to be the right heir of this holy crown, and of the throne of St. Edward, and of all the land of this England, our home and country, or that he ought to enjoy that right, I am his Champion, here. And I say that that forked-tongued wretch lies through serpent's teeth, and is false, and is a vile traitor. I am ready in person to combat with him, and in this quarrel will adventure life for life, and will cast him down in the dust. Let him present himself, or crawl away on his belly and never trouble our land again."

The eyes of several of the less discreet knights begin to look around the room for a sign of someone considering the challenge.

[Cearnach]

Of course, no one has tried to unseat a king this way for several hundred years...it doesn't tend to end well. When the moment of tension passes, Richard rises from his seat and takes up a golden cup.

"My enemies lack courage, noble champion. Since they have denied you combat, accept this cup and a seat at my table in recompense."

A servant quickly brings a chair for Lord Marmion, who dismounts with a flourish, handing the Earl Marshal his reins, and together horses and hero begin to clop out of the hall.

"You are generous, my lord," Marmion says, permitting himself a smile that brightens the room. "Your company and that of your noble guests," he nods to William the Lion and to Prince John, who seems to preen at the attention. "is more than my humble service has earned, but as it is your will, I do accept." To punctuate his speech, he bows his head forcefully, performing submission for all assembled, then takes his chair, holding out the golden cup to be filled with finest wine.

Moments later, trumpets sound the arrival of the second course. Again the great doors open, and again the herald approaches.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, King Richard presents to you Great Oceanus and his brother, Tethys, who will carry us to Outremer!"

And indeed, coming behind him are two carts holding two enormous pies, each easily larger in diameter than a man is tall. The crust of each pie has been covered in blue marzipan and painted with the bearded faces of the titans, their beards and flowing hair seeming to glisten in the candlelight, each lock being composed of iridescent, patently inedible fish-scales. As the servers cut into the pie, the smell of fish oozes throughout the chamber. Oceanus, it seems, is filled with saltwater fish and whale, Tethys with freshwater fish and eels.

[Emma of Anjou]

As the titan-pies are served, Emma of Anjou rises, much to the clear surprise of her brother the king:

"Lords and Ladies, in honor of my Lord Brother and the loyal Welshmen who have taken the cross in his name, I have commissioned Adalbert the Ardennes Albatross to perform for us. Though he is used to wandering the vales of France, he has winged his way here to sing of the Prince of Foxes, Reynard!"

[Cearnach]

To the sound of interested chatter, the troubadour, a man in middle age and with a distinctively Gallic profile, rose from among the guests and began to tune his lute:

"Lords, you have heard many tales,
That many tellers have told to you.
How Paris took Helen,
The evil and the pain he felt
Of Tristan that la Chevre
Spoke rather beautifully about;
And fabliaux and epics;
Of the Romance of Yvain and his beast
And many others told in this land
But never have you heard about the war
That was difficult and slow to win
Between Reynard and Isengrim

It was about the time of Pentecost, or Whitsuntide, that the woods commonly be lusty and gladsome, and the trees clad with leaves and blossoms, and the ground with herbs and flowers sweet smelling, and also the fowls and birds singing melodiously in their harmony, that the Lion, the noble King of all Beasts, would in the holy days of this feast hold an open Court at state; which he made known by all in his land, and commanded by straight commissions and commandments that every Beast should come thither, in such wise that all the Beasts great and small came to the Court save Reynard the Fox: for he knew himself faulty and guilty in many things against many Beasts that thither should come, that he durst not adventure to go thither. When the King of all Beasts had assembled all his Court, there was none of them all but that he had complained sore on Reynard the Fox.

Isengrim the Wolf, with his lineage and friends, came and stood before the King, and said, "High and Mighty Prince, my Lord the King, I beseech you that through your great might, right, and mercy, that ye will have pity on the great trespass and the unreasonable misdeeds that Reynard the Fox hath done to me and to my wife: that is to wit, he is come into my house against the will of my wife, and there he hath pissed on my children where they lay, in such wise as they have waxed blind. Whereupon was a day set, and was judged that Reynard should come and be judged, and should swear on the holy saints that he was not guilty of this. And when the book with the saints was brought forth, then Reynard changed his mind, and ran away again into his hole, as though he did not care. And, dear King, this is well known by many of the Beasts that have come to-day to your court. And yet he hath trespassed to me in many other things. There is no man living that could tell all that I now leave untold, but the shame and villainy that he hath done my wife, that shall I never hide nor suffer it unavenged, unless he shall make great amends.

When these words were spoken, so stood there a little Hound that was named Curtis, and he complained to the King how that in the cold winter in the hard frost he had been sorely run short on supplies, so that he had no more meat than a pudding, which Reynard the Fox stole from him.

With this so came Tybalt the Cat, with an mood of ire, and sprang in among them, and said "My Lord the King, I here hear that Reynard is sore complained on, and here is none but that he hath enough to do to clear himself. What Curtis complains of is many years gone, how is it that I do not complain? That pudding was mine, for I had won it by night in a mill while the miller lay and slept. If Curtis had any part of it, that came by me, too.

Then spake Panther, "Think ye, Tybalt, that it would be good if Reynard should not be complained of? He is a true murderer, a rover, and a thief. He loveth no man so well, not our Lord the King here, but that Reynard would much prefer that he should lose his goods and his faith if Reynard might win as much as a leg of a fat hen. I shall tell you what I saw him do yesterday to Cuwart the Hare, that stands here in the King's peace and safeguard. He promised to Cuwart and said he would teach him his Credo, and make him a good chaplain. He made him go sit between his legs, and sang and cried loud, "Credo, Credo!" My way lay nearby there and I heard this song. Though I went near and found Master Reynard had left when he first read and sang, and began to play his old tune, for he had caught Cuwart by the throat, and had I not come by at that time, he would have taken his life from him. Ye here may see still the fresh wounds on Cuwart the Hare. Forsooth, my Lord the King, if you suffer this unpunished, and let him go quit that hath thus broken your peace, and will do no right after the sentence and judgment of your men, your children many years hereafter shall be misprised and blamed for it.

"Right on, Panther," said Isengrim, "ye say truth. It were good that right and justice were done, for them that would fain live in peace."

[…]

Thus as [Isengrim] spoke and preached these words, so saw they coming down the hill to them Chanticleer the Cock and brought on a bier a dead hen of whom Reynard had bitt the head off, and that must be showed to the King, that he might know of it.

Chanticleer came forth and smote piteously his hands and feathers; and on each side of the bier went two sorrowful hens, that one was called Cantart and that other good hen Crayant, they were two the fairest hens that were between Holland and Arderne. These hens bore each of them a burning taper which was long and straight. These two hens were Coppen's sisters, and they cried so piteously "Alas and weleaway," for the death of their dear sister Coppen. Two young hens bare the bier, which cackled so heavily and wept so loud for the death of Coppen their mother, that it was very hard. Thus came they together before the King.

And Chanticleer said, "Merciful lord, my lord the King, please it you to hear our complaint and abhor the great scathe that Reynard has done to me and my children that stand here. It was so that in the beginning of April, when the weather is fair, as that I, as hard and proud because of the great lineage that I am come of and also had, for I had eight fair sons and seven fair daughter which my wife had hatched, and they were all strong and fat, and went in a yard which was walled round about, in which was a shed wherein were six great dogs which had torn and plucked many a beast's skin in such a way as my children were not afraid of any stranger. Reynard the thief had great desire for them because they were so sure that he could get none of them; how often hath this fell thief gone round about this wall and hath lain in wait for us until the dogs were set upon him and hunted him away; and once they leapt on him upon the bank, and that cost him somewhat for his theft, I saw that his skin smoked. Nevertheless he went his way, God amend it!

"Thus were we quit of Reynard a long while. At last came he in likeness of a hermit and brought to me a letter to read, sealed with the King's seal, in which stood written that the King had made peace over all in his realm, and that all manner of beasts and fowls should do none harm nor scathe to any other. Yet said he to me more that he was become a cloisterer or a closed recluse, and that he would receive great penance for his sins. He showed me his old shoes and skincoat and a hair shirt thereunder, and then said he, 'Sir Chanticleer, after this time be no more afraid of me, nor take any heed, for I will not eat any more flesh. I am grown so old that I would fain remember my soul. I will now go forth, for I have yet to say my sexte, nones, and mine evensong. To God I commend you.'

[Emma of Anjou]

[At this point, characters may make an Awareness check to notice the look Emma of Anjou gives Baldwin of Forde. If looks could kill…]

[Cearnach]

So Reynard went hence, saying his Credo, and laid him under a hawthorn. Then I was glad and merry, and also took no heed, and went to my children and clucked them together, and went outside the wall to walk; whereof much harm came to us, for Reynard lay under a bush and came creeping between us and the gate, so that he caught one of my children and shoved him in his sack. From this we have had great harm, for since he ate of my son, there has been neither hunter nor hound that could save us or keep him away from us. He hath waited by night and day in such ways that he hath stolen so many of my children that of fifteen, I have but four, in such wise hath this thief swallowed them. And yesterday was Coppen my daughter, that here lieth upon the bier, with brought back by the hounds. This I complain to you, gracious King, have pity on mine great and unreasonable damage and loss of my fair children!"

[Eleanor of Aquitaine]

Suddenly, Eleanor begins to applaud, an action soon taken up by Baldwin of Forde and Robert Marmion, which cuts the performance short.

[Earl William of Salisbury]

"Bravo, Bravo!" the good-natured, if clueless, Earl of Salisbury calls out from his table, as the confused Ardennes Albatross bows his gratitude and, casting his eyes about in consternation, makes his way back to his seat.

[King Richard Lionheart]

Richard, for his part, seems a mite wrothful as he shoots a stern glance at his Aunt, who simply juts her jaw out toward him.

[Prince John]

John plonks another candied chestnut in his mouth, all smiles.

[Cearnach]

The third course is announced! Platter after platter of all manner of food streams down the aisle to feed the multitude. The High Table becomes the resting place of a roasted roe deer and two stuffed swans. Distributed to the guests are:

Eight peacocks in their original plumage.
A kid goat stuffed with two goslings.
12 chickens stuffed with 12 pigeons.
2 herons
6 rabbits
A whole pig surrounded by plums stewed in rosewater,
Cream covered in fennel seeds and preserved in sugar,
And an enormous, glistening, undulating scarlet jelly decorated with Richard's three golden lions.

[Cearnach]

EVENT: The Third Subtlety

Participants: This is an event for 13 characters. Places not taken by PCs will be taken up by NPCs.

The trumpets sound again, and the servers move in to clear away what remains of the third course, but your attention is diverted from them, for here comes the third subtlety, though rather than the enormous groaning cart, it seems that there are thirteen. Each cart bears a single deer sitting upright, their backs supported by thick gingerbread high-backed chairs, and fronts bracketed in by a thick wedge of gingerbread that projects its point out over the edge of the cart.. Each deer is clad in pastry armor, holds between the toes of one cloven hoof a sword of gingerbread given steel in the form of sugared cream, and on the opposite forelimb a gingerbread shield. In each deer's mouth is a strip of brightly colored cloth on which seems to have been embroidered a saying. The carts are formed into a circle, their charges facing inward, so that the wedges of gingerbread form a round table.

Details:
The Herald has called for 13 volunteers to read the poem in the deer's mouths. There is one line for each deer, and therefore one line for each participant. The difficulty is that there seems to be no indication what order the lines are in...and then there's the weight of speaking before the gathered nobility of all England (and the King of Scotland and a good chunk of France, besides).

To gather in Glory for yourself, you must successfully perform the following steps:

1) A Recognize check to figure out who the other participants are and their relative rank. Custom demands that high-ranking characters choose and read first, therefore a good courtier must be careful not to overstep their bounds. Failure on this check forces you to choose your line early, snubbing those higher-born than you. Any higher-ranked character you snub must roll his Vengeful trait or enter you on his List. Should a Royal NPC be selected to fill empty slots, your character will not snub them. Everyone pretty well knows them by sight.

2) A Read: French (Langue d'Oil) check to identify where your line fits into the poem. Failure here means you will have to endure the embarrassment of reading your line again at the proper time, or being prompted by someone whose turn it is. You will have to subtract five glory from a successful roll in the next stage.

Lines of poetry will be pmed to people to post with their order noted. If you have not succeeded on this roll, you will not receive an order number. Essentially, this means that you could--just possibly--luck out and get it in the right spot.

Characters who succeed on a Generosity trait check may, with a successful Intrigue roll, subtly prompt a person who has failed their Poetry check to go at the right spot. This act of subtle kindness ought to be rewarded with some gratitude by the recipient.

3) An Orate or Singing roll to perform the line in its appropriate rhythm. Success on this roll earns a participant 15 glory.

[Giles de Braose]

Giles waited patiently, for a little while, before mistaking the rules. He incorrectly interpreted the delay in people's participation as reluctance, instead of their reading of the room to ascertain their rightful order.

He drew several glares as he rose far too early to claim a line.

D1 EE Event Recognize: 1d20 11 - FAIL

[Geoffrey of Tournemine]

Geoffrey knew his place.

D1 EE, Recognize: 1d20 1

[Andre l'Ecrivain]

Andre almost goes to stand, but then realizes he is a damned fool better suited to recording events than participating in them.

And the food is still quite tasty.

~~~~~
Failure here, https://orokos.com/roll/911081

[Llywelyn mab Iorwerth]

"Next to last" is a fair guess of Welsh consideration whenever they are in English court. Llwelyn has been around a few times to know his place in the order and begins to warm up his voice to join in.

____

Coronation Song-Recognize: 1d20 6 Pass

[Geoffrey of Tournemine]

The line was read and he prepares to speak it when his turn came.

D1 EE, Read French: 1d20 4
Success

[Giles de Braose]

Giles was unable to determine his own position, but was able to understand the location of his line in the piece about to be performed.

He was a little flustered performing poetry under the gaze of his muse -

D1 EE event Passion test. Reroll TN11: 1d20 17 - FAIL

But thankfully his nerves didn't over come him.

D1 EE Event Read French +5 circumstance, -5 failed Passion : 1d20 9 - SUCCESS

[Llywelyn mab Iorwerth]

Oh joy, they didn't even bother using conversational French

_____

Read-French: 1d20 16 fail

[Geoffrey of Tournemine]

He looks to his fellow fire-haired guest and wonders about possibly helping him. But in the moment, he is far more focused on not making a fool of himself.

D1 EE, Generosity TN 10, Intrigue TN 6, maybe help Llywelyn: 1d20 16 1d20 15

[Giles de Braose]

Out of the corner of his eye, Giles sees another soul struggling under the spotlight, but his internal melancholy is too much to overcome.

D1 EE Event Disheartened Generosity for Llewellyn TN8: 1d20 14

[Isabel de Warenne]

Isabel de Warenne stands up from her table and approaches to select a line of poetry, looks it over carefully, and reads it aloud in perfectly accented, rhythmic High French:

1. "Man learns rhymes for to hear..."

Success, Success, Critical Success
[1st roll should read "Recognize; 6 is enough to pass in either case.]

[Geoffrey of Tournemine]

As he sits there preparing for his line, he considers the implications of doing well or poorly here. Impressing was important and this was for his cousin. This opportunity would not come around again in his lifetime. It was a pivotal moment for him to display some sort of culture, which wasn't his strong suit. War and administration didn't require it. But this... this did and he was determined not to make a fool of himself.

Geoffrey stands next, knowing his right position and timing.

2. "And Romans read on many men..."

HIs words are clear, allow in that rustic but still perfectly appropriate and enunciated accent, and there is no doubt in his voice. This was a man that believed in himself and in his cousin, the Lionheart. When he found his seat again, he was feeling a bit triumphant not only for himself but for the good flow of the presentation for his cousin.

D1 EE, Passion, Love (Family), TN 16: 1d20 12 Passed
D1 EE, Orate, Passion Assisted, TN 13 (3+10 passion): 1d20 10 Passed, +15 Glory

[William of Brunswick]

William of Brunswick, however, is very close to humiliating himself. His attitude is imperious as he grabs at a line, not recognizing that Queen Eleanor has come up behind him with a single raised eyebrow and pursed lips.

He stands in front of the crowd, dumbfounded at the mad scribble in French in front of his eyes. Painfully sounding out the words, he reads without a care as to order, or indeed anyone else in the room, so deeply is he focused on each syllable.

"Of Greece and Troy the strong strife"

When he is finished he rolls up the phrase and thrusts it in his pocket, an expression of annoyance stamped on his features.

Fail, Fail, Critical Fail.

[Eleanor of Aquitaine]

Eleanor of Aquitaine smiles brightly as she performs her line with just a hint of her Aquitainian accent. Her eyes seem to twinkle at the little game, and after she finishes, she sidles up next to the young Welsh prince, the better to lay aside his concerns.

"3. Of Alisaundur the Conquerour"

Generosity check=10 Pass.
Intrigue check=6 Pass.
Eleanor will nudge Llewelyn when the time is right. Pm sent.

Vengeful Check=10 Eleanor is officially annoyed with William of Brunswick and his embarrassing display.

[Giles de Braose]

#4. Of July Caesar thee Emperour

Giles follows up the Queen Eleanor in order, but following the Queen was a hard act to live up to, and while the words were correct, there was no real drive or emotion behind them.

D1 EE Event Orate, -5 failed Passion TN5: 1d20 7 - FAIL

[Andre l'Ecrivain]

Andre makes to correct his error, recognizing his place. Unfortunately, a crumb of something or other, perhaps a bone from the heron, lodges oddly in his throat when he tries to recite, and so he sounds less like a fed wren than a strangling frog: "There many lost life." But at least the line falls where it should, if not how.

~~~~~
Read d'Oil Check passes at 9, https://orokos.com/roll/911218
Orate Check fails at 17, https://orokos.com/roll/911220
EDITED TO ADD LINE