| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Display using:
|
|
The World According to Archibald de Breenie IV
Posted: 20 Oct 2007 05:08 PM |
A Light in the Maelstrom: The Steadfastness of Spirit
Being the Memoirs and Autobiography of Archibald de Breenie IV
&
An Account of the Fall and Rebirth of the de Breenie Family
&
The Salvation and Renaissance of Port Royale
He paused, putting the quill back in the ink vial and sitting back in his chair, a slight frown crossing his face. Was the title succinct enough?
It had to be just right, after all. He was a de Breenie, and this would the definitive guide to his family during its greatest time. The de Breenie’s had already done so much for Port Royale, but this would be their greatest moment, and he their greatest figure.
Well, greatest probably wasn’t the right word. One of the de Breenie’s family tenets was humility, so he wasn’t about to call himself greatest. If someone else wanted to call him greatest, that was certainly their right. But a de Breenie didn’t live for compliments. Service was foremost in a de Breenie’s life, as it had been for centuries. And he, Archibald de Breenie IV, would be a living testament to the family’s spirit of service.
So now what? He decided to revisit the question of the title later and consider the next part. There would need to be a discussion of the de Breenie philosophy, given that it could clearly cause confusion amongst the great unwashed. Case in point: Barret Victor.
Men like Barret were needed, of course. Someone had to be told what to do, after all, to ensure that the great ideas of leaders like the de Breenies were carried out. It’s just that when those men didn’t understand their place, trouble ensued.
This part of de Breenie philosophy often sounded like arrogance, he knew, but it was simply the nature of all things. Animals of all kinds had positions: workers, warriors, thinkers, consorts and leaders. Human and other races may be smarter than animals, but they still fell into places and classes. One wouldn’t expect a common peasant to lead an army, now would one?
Not that individuals couldn’t rise up in position, of course. The rise of the de Breenies was littered with examples of relatives helping the family move up the social strata, ultimately becoming what they were today. But one had to know one’s own limitations, or else be doomed to failure.
Which is exactly what had happened to Barret. There was a reason the man pined away about having made and lost many fortunes in his lifetime (though he suspected the man was coloring the truth about that anyway). Barret was reaching beyond his station, talented enough many years ago to have done well perchance, but never sufficiently skilled and wise to stay successful.
As for Barret trying to be a paladin, well. He snorted involuntarily. Given how the man had acted when they had been underwater trying to retrieve the black stone box. He stopped himself, taking a deep breath to calm his rising anger. Perhaps best to write that story another.
His other companions seemed to understand their place better, though he couldn’t say for sure he knew them well enough yet. The grubby girl – part badger, perhaps? – finally seemed to understand just how important he was. Jarook was honorable in his way, though he seemed to agree with Barret far too often for his taste. And if he never saw the mad hin in love with his own shadow again, that would be good news. As for the dwarves, the club footed man was still a mystery, and the lady (was she truly a dwarf?)…well…he stopped and drew another breath. Best not to think of her lest he break the quill. She and Captain Corbin had a few things coming to them.
A sorry lot of companions, he thought. Not what one would expect from a de Breenie. But the story of the de Breenies was taking what life gave you and forging it into something great. He had no doubt that he could reshape his colleagues if given the time. Plus, he needed to train someone as a porter if he was ever going to get his stuff transported to the Four Winds.
He stopped his writing and looked over the title. He thought about adding another line but decided against it. He didn’t want it to be too garish. The de Breenies practiced humility after all. |
The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for...
-- Ernest Hemingway |
|
  |
|
|
Re: The World According to Archibald de Breenie IV
Posted: 20 Oct 2007 08:40 PM |
| ((Oh man, that was great so far, I look forward to reading more of this thread. Maybe Barret should start a journal as a counter-point to Archibald. It would seem so fitting... :P)) |
|
|
|
|
|
Re: The World According to Archibald de Breenie IV
Posted: 28 Oct 2007 11:00 PM |
Common and Not-So-Common Knowledge of the de Breenie Family
((Anyone who spends a fair amount of time in Port Royale will probably know or can easily hear the following))
The de Breenie family has been a mainstay in Port Royale for many generations. They are not necessarily “noble” by birth, but have attained sufficient wealth for enough years to be considered such in the rough-and-tumble social circles of the port.
Like most noble families in the port, their wealth has been mostly generated through trade, and like most noble families, their wealth has taken a significant hit since the rise of the Atalan. There is the occasional odd rumor that the family is nearly bankrupt, but there has been little change in their external trappings or spending habits, and the annual de Breenie Bash, a well-known and anticipated party, is still apparently on schedule.
Who’s Who of the de Breenie Family
Archibald Stanton Rosemont de Breenie IV (“The Brie”): PC
Archibald Sampson Rosemead de Breenie III: Father/frequent figure and gadfly at Queen’s court
Loressa Devalis Monteigne de Breenie: Mother/missing, presumed dead
Archibald Quinlan Roseville de Breenie II: Grandfather/Patriarch of the family
Reginald, Alicia, Tristan and Theresa (twins): Archie’s younger brothers/sisters
Alistair Corsonne Rosewood de Breenie: great uncle/famous explorer and cartography
Alexandra Janette Rosebud de Breenie: aunt/famous healer and teacher
Edward Lorrey Rosedun de Breenie III: great-great grandfather/famous builder/architect, responsible for several buildings in the port
(Others to be added as Archibald dredges up names to entertain his traveling companions.)
((The following can be learned with a little digging or if the PC has a few well-placed contacts in either lower or upper port. Whether any of the following comments are true or not is unknown…))
“The de Breenie’s cash crisis is worse than the rumors would have it. Much of their money has been frittered away on bad investments throughout the past few decades, and the Atalan destroyed most of their remaining ventures.”
“The de Breenie’s are a study in mediocrity, not talented enough to ever be good at anything, and just lucky enough to avoid the poorhouse. Like death, taxes and the poor, they just always seem to be around. Trust me, there’s reason the de Breenie family is best known for an annual party.”
“The de Breenies are the class of Port Royale, and their party is the one of the most-talked about events every year. That they’re still holding this party as a way of keeping everyone’s spirits up is a testament to their love of the city.”
“Their downfall started when one of those Archibalds made a deal with…well, I ain’t gonna say that name out loud, but I heard for a quick grab at power, he sold out the family. I mean, whatever happened to the lady de Breenie, ya know?
“The problem with the de Breenie’s ain’t their investments, it’s their other habits, know what I mean? They like to indulge, see? Jessup’s probably got a bunch of them in his back pocket.”
“Any de Breenie named Archibald is a total a$$.” |
The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for...
-- Ernest Hemingway |
|
|
|
|
Re: The World According to Archibald de Breenie IV
Posted: 16 Dec 2007 06:31 PM |
Dear Ophelia:
Thank you for your mostly legible letter about our arrangement regarding the chess match.
Unfortunately, I will be unable to pay the full 20,000 gold pieces as I do not owe you 20,000 gold pieces.
If you’ll recall, our bet was for 10,000. Leaving aside completely the issue of whether or not you cheated, this is the amount I will pay.
I am unaware of any sort of additional betting we did. If you are referring to some type of later arrangement with the man Barret Victor, please be aware that said gentleman (and I use the term loosely here) is not an agent of myself or the de Breenie family. He should not have represented himself in that fashion and had no authority to affect the coffers of the de Breenie family in any way.
For further information, please refer to the Mercantile and Guild Bylaws of the Queen’s Charter, Section III, Paragraph VI, relating to agents of business entities, as well as additional regulatory language found in Addendums 3 and 4 of the Sellers and Contractors Authority Memorandum (SCAM).
If you wish to receive your full 20,000 gold, I suggest you take up that matter with Mr. Victor and see about developing a payment plan for him (and good luck with that).
Per your letter, I will present myself to you in two weeks with the agreed sum of 10,000 gold pieces, an amount that will fulfill the debt and leave the contract null and void.
Sincerely,
Archibald Stanton Rosement de Breenie IV
He put the pen down. Menial labor? Dog defecation? Was the woman truly insane? The de Breenies hired people to pick up dog feces for them. Not that there was anything wrong with such a task, if that was your place. But it was hardly a place for a de Breenie, that was clear. Or at least, should have been.
He huffed, blowing out a long breath? Why did Barrett think that he, of all people, didn’t have any money? If he needed to, he could access to as much wealth as he needed, but he wasn’t about to go back to his father now, not with his plans just beginning to move.
Of course, the plan was moving slowly, more slowly than he wished. Barret was barely talking with him now, except for the occasional snipe, and he couldn’t figure out why. He had apologized to the man countless times, yet it hadn’t seemed to do the trick. I must be patient with him, he thought. Barret is in way over his head. Of course it is taking longer for him to make sense of all this. Just lead him along and he’ll come to see the greatness of the plan.
It was a great tragedy (somewhere the gods were laughing at him) that really his most dependable colleague was the badger girl, Otse (that was her name, right? He could never remember). He needed a good man-servant, but Jarook had disappeared. Perhaps this Veran fellow he had met at the Chess Hall could serve. He looked the mercenary type, though Archibald would probably have to hire a translator to understand half of what he said. What a horrid accent! If he could just get the badger girl to take dictation, bath occasionally and stay on task, she might be able to make something of herself.
Focus on the plan, Archibald, he thought to himself. He had found the elephants, some of them anyway, still somehow alive in the desert. He had found his animal trainers, one Vrodo, a half-orc who was the most un-half-orc half-orc he had ever met, and one Alis, whom he had only briefly met before business at the city had called him away, but who had at least agreed to work with him, at least at the start.
They both had drawbacks. Alis did not seem completely convinced of his plan, yet at least had the good social graces not to say something. She was quite attractive, yet had been unaffected by his charms and social standing. Which was worse, he thought? She would ultimately be at least easier to communicate with than Vrodo, most likely.
On the other hand, Vrodo seemed to think his idea a good one. However, he seemed to be good friends with the same Ophelia. And why Archibald could not say. While Vrodo was patient, surprisingly wise for one of his kind and willing to listen, Ophelia would not shut up with her complaining. And obsessed with money. He sighed. He knew the kind—one who had grown up destitute and poor, so of course she obsessed about money. If they only knew…He shook his head sadly, his fingers absently fingering the solid gold, diamond-encrusted broach that hung from his neck.
Despite Ophelia’s constant whining (was this really the same person whom everyone respected as a great warrior?), Vrodo had gone to the desert with him, and together they had found elephants and even brought one back. The question was now, where to keep them, and how to get the funds to feed them, house them and train them? He had some coffers, but he had not really concentrated yet on acquiring a vast sum of money. Yet that’s what it would take. He would need to readjust his planning to take into account this contingency.
Yet, lately, his plans had been readjusting themselves. Too many sidetracks. This whole business with the lamp and the Seemly and Unseemly Courts. Mushroom Kings. He shook his head. Yes, it sounded important. Yes, it would actually make a great chapter in his book. But was it going to help save Port Royale and solidify the de Breenie place in history. Perhaps after he helped the Seemly Court, it would return the favor and help him in his plans? He drummed his fingers on the table at the thought.
And then of course, there was the most recent instant. He had been in the Port Royale mines, having seen one of Jessup’s thugs discretely enter the prohibited area. He had not found the man, but had been accosted by an elvish woman, one Ana’Estasia, if she was to be believed. The story she had told had been pure drivel—she had randomly chosen him to hunt down, but only when he was worthy?! Please!—but the underlying current was the more troubling.
Obviously, she had been hired and sent by someone because he was a de Breenie, that much was clear. Perhaps the Dar Kannians, who had always been jealous of the de Breenie’s annual ball? Or the Ol’vem, the half-elf bastards who hated the fact that his family were closer to the Queen than theirs? Such trifling plots, these. Couldn’t they see that Port Royale was hanging by a thread. The Atalan were--.
A cold shiver ran through his body. The Atalan. They had heard of his elephant plan and were afraid. That was it. It had to be it! His hands balled up in fists as he fought the wave of fear that suddenly overtook him. No! Don’t let it control you. Use it instead.
Letting the sensation pass, he wadded up the letter. No time to wait for a reply; he would go see Ophelia and speak to her on the matter. Then he had to be off. There was so much to do. He was so close, and the Atalan knew it. The fate of Port Royale, and indeed the entire world, was hanging on what he did next. |
The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for...
-- Ernest Hemingway |
|
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|