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Current Campaign Date:  1/26/2008   

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Prelude 5 - Stories

Prelude 5

A look at what happened during and/or after Prelude 5.

Story - Getting Acquainted

Game Date: 1/10/2004

Who: Guillaume de Rouen

Guillaume scratched his head and muttered something. "What did you say?" asked Chris. I didn't understand that."

"I...reverted to my original language," said Guillaume. "Wait a minute. I only know one language." He scratched his helmet again with his sword hilt.

"You're currently speaking English," said Helena. "You spoke it when you...arrived."

"English?" asked Guillaume. "Don't you mean Saxon? Or maybe you're referring to that gibberish the Welsh speak."

"No, I meant English. It's the language that's spoken in England," said Helena.

"There are many languages spoken in England," said Guillaume. "There's the gibberish the Welsh speak, there's Saxon, there's Pictish, there's that awful Irish, and there's what normal people speak, namely Norman French."

"What year is it?" asked Chris.

"What do you mean?" replied Guillaume. "You look like a bright, sane man. Surely you know what year it is."

"Just humor me," said Chris. "What year is it?"

"It is the year of our Lord one thousand, ninety and seven years."

"Actually, it isn't," said Chris. "It's the year of our Lord two thousand and three."

Guillaume looked at Chris like he'd lost his mind. "This is not possible," he said. "This is just not possible. I am in western England or eastern Wales, it is 1097, and I really must go back home now." He turned to go, but Chris blocked his way. "Where are you going?" asked Chris. "You're seven or eight thousand miles from where you think you are. You're apparently 906 years later, too. You've been a victim of a dimensional shift, apparently."

Here we go, said Brasidas. Let's see how this listener takes what you're about to tell him.

"Wait, good sir," said Chris. "Let me try to explain. He furrowed his brow for a moment. "The closest thing I can come to an explanation is that time is a line, and something or someone threw you forward on the line. Thus you're here."

"How do you know of this?" demanded Guillaume. "How do I know you're not lying to me, or tricking me?" He started to look around trying to get his bearings. He looked like he was starting to get agitated. "I do not wish to stay here any longer. I'm going to ride home to see my family."

"Look around you," said Chris. "I don't think you'll find your family."

Guillaume slowly looked around and dismay filled his eyes. "I do not believe I'm in Wales nor England anymore." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I believe you said I'm in San Francisco?"

"Yes," said Helena. "But before we continue, could you please put your sword away?"

Guillaume jumped as if suddenly startled. He then quickly sheathed his sword without looking. He knelt before Helena with bowed head. "Please accept my humble apologies, milady. I don't mean to frighten you or harm you."

Helena looked uncertain of what to do. "Please. Don't worry about it. I know you meant me no harm." She fidgeted slightly. "Could you please stop kneeling now?"

Guillaume looked up. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He rose, then bent to kiss her hand. He guided her hand right into the nosepiece of his helmet. "Oh," he said, fumbling with his helmet. "Let me make myself more presentable." He removed his helmet, then swept back his coif, revealing a slightly fair face framed by long red hair. He slipped his hands out of the attached mittens on his chainmail hauberk. He put down his shield. "Is this more presentable?"

"It is." Helena smiled.

"How far away is England?" asked Guillaume.

"Like I said, seven or eight thousand miles give or take," said Chris.

You're all Westerners to me, said Brasidas.

"I feel a fourth person is in this conversation," said Guillaume. "It is strange I can't hear him." He paused. "It's strange that I know it's a man...and a formidable one."

"You have no idea," muttered Chris.

"Let me guess," said Helena. "You didn't say anything."

Chris cracked a lame grin. "Ain't she great?"

"Ain't?" asked Guillaume.

Here we go, said Brasidas.

"Ain't is another word for isn't," said Chris. "You might want to get used to using it. You'll need to learn to fit in."

Guillaume frowned. "Where is the church?"

"Which one?" asked Helena. "There are many churches as well as many denominations."

"What is a denomination?" asked Guillaume. "That sounds like it doesn't have anything to do with the Church."

"Of course it has to do with church," said Helena. "It has everything to do with chu..."

"Hold up, honey," said Chris. "If he came from when he says he did, there was only one Church, which had one excommunicate sect."

"Oh, you mean the damned Byzantines," said Guillaume. "Their misguided views still persist?"

Helena dropped her jaw. Chris turned a little pale, sweating a little. Brasidas smirked. Welcome to my world, said Brasidas. Now you know how I feel about Zeus.

"OK," said Chris. "I've got some bad news for you..." He sat Sir Guillaume down and began to relay the first things that would shatter a young Norman knight's world.

Record Last Changed Date: 11/28/2009

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