Well, thank you kindly!
I'm a little torn between all three options. The horse makes most sense for Griswold's background, but I really don't like leaving animals behind when entering dungeons. To face who knows what. 50gp would be great. I could purchase a lute straight off then. Otherwise, the silvered weapon does suit his flashy show-off personality.
Whatever, when in doubt, default to what makes the most rp sense. The horse it is!
quote:
Prompt: What is the origin of the Krieghold motto "I was born without claws, without fangs, without scales; so I forged them in fire and crafted them of steel"?
Knights and dragonslaying go hand in hand:
Towering beautiful and splendid, a kingly knight trots out of the morning mist. His fiercely loyal warhorse whinnying with pride. Their embellished plate, crafted by the land's best smiths, shimmering in the early light. He carries the symbol of his Order, embellished upon a shield of the toughest steel, whilst little flags flutter festively from the tip of an upright lance.
Only it is not mist that covers the ground. Not the spring's dawn reflected in his visor. The clouds are smoke. The light, fire. He's ridden far to find their source. Left his home amidst tearful cheers of hope and fear. Travelled across plain and river. Through forest and valley. Over hill and mountain. And today he has it. Today the hunter finally becomes the hunted.
With a kick the trusty mount lurches forward. Spurred into action. It's mighty hooves, driven by huge sinewy muscles, hammer the ground relentlessly. Thunderously.
The charge is swift and true. The Knight's lance lowered, tip perfectly stable. And out of the ugly black fog Two serpent-like red eyes, each the size of a man's head, open. Man and beast and monster crash together like waves upon a cliff. Flames, burning with the fury of a hundred fireballs, melt steel to flesh, flesh to bone. Acrid smoke, thicker than water, tears throat. Ravages lungs. Scours eyes. And somehow, amongst this horrendous conflagration, a silvered tip hits home.
A deafening screeching roar, of fury hate and pain sends birds scattering from their treetop homes a hundred miles away. And then...nothing. All is still. All is silent. Eventually the acrid charcoal cloud dissipates. Three bodies emerge: one a man, charred beyond recognition; the second, a mutilated beast, faithful to the end; and the last, their quarry, scaled and humongous, pierced to the hilt by a mortal weapon.
Whether true or not, likely highly romanticised, I imagine there being quite a few tales in Krieghold Knights of yore killing dragons. This supposedly recounting the tale of the first a man was able to kill a dragon. One that had been terrorising them for hundreds of years.
Sorry if its bad and there's bound to be numerous mistakes. I don't consider myself a particularly good author, But hopefully its not too awful.