elfnip's story den

Sir Lovell, the Fairy Knight, who is a young man by day and a young lady by night, wants to be 100% Knight of the Round Table. Lovell is the lovechild of Gawain and an Elf princess of the Enchanted Forest.

Pronouns: he/she/they, depending on the time or the state of confusion. Lovell is probably the first genderfluid knight errant of Camelot, but few people know this. She is 50% of the time in disguise (not counting the times Lovell is disguised as lady-in-waiting to the Queen and small adjustments for winter and summer time).

Also written as: Lovel, Lovelle, Lovau, Lovault, Lovaut, Lovolt, Glovel, Wauwel, Louvel, Louiel, Luwel, Loël, Clovil, Louil, Lioval, Loval, Wigovel, Loviel.

Right. Nair did his best to hide his nerves. He was glad he hadn’t given out his name so easily, he’d heard plenty of stories. Unlike his lord, he grew up in a small village amid nature, talk of the fae had been spoon-fed to him. And it had filled him both with apprehension and wonder. He didn’t know where his status as a changeling put him.

He nodded and regained his composure, “I will answer with what I believe to be the truth”, he promised, knowing that he shouldn’t stumble over his words or make promises he couldn’t keep. “The apples on these trees belong to the farmers who grow them.”

He barely even hesitated before he took his turn;  “Why are you looking for Camelot?”

"I am looking for Camelot because I want to become a knight. I met a knight who said that that's the place where all the best knights are at, at King Arthur's table. Gawain, Yonet, Cei, Yvain, Tristan, Agravain... I want to become a famous knight too, but I'll have to be squire first. That's why I want to go to Camelot." Lovell's ears were red at the tip, lost in day dreams about the legendary court of Arthur.

"I thought the horse could help me but he only knows a place called Arabia."

The young man watched the apples on the trees along their path. They were well-groomed and their canopies were low to the ground.

My valkyrie muse Frejdis

Nair watched the boy with a scrutinising gaze. There was something really odd about the combination of the way he carried himself and the shortsword strapped to his side. He came across childishly innocent and yet strangely graceful in the way he behaved, it was very curious indeed. And then there was the way he looked at him.

“Camelot?” He chuckled lightly, Camelot was a fairy tale as far as he knew, but he thought he finally understood part of what was going on. At the very least it was something he could use to talk to him.

“I’m afraid I don’t know the way”, he indulged the teen, “And I’m not a knight. But just climbing onto the fairest horse won’t make you a knight either, Lovell. And you should know that the horse you were riding belongs to Prince Tyl. If anyone will knight you one day it might very well be him, but he wouldn’t be very inclined to do so if you ran off with his favourite horse.”

He gave a meaningful glance at the guards; this is how you handle a situation, and then dismissed them with a sharp gesture of his head.

“Oh,” Lovell said meekly, scratching his head. “So the horse belongs to someone. I thought it was the other way around. Excuse me. I don’t want to cause any trouble. It’s my favourite horse too.” 

The horse sniffed restlessly and Lovell tapped it on his neck. It turned back to gallop in the meadow, trailing his white tail in the wind. The guards had gone back to the shelter, but they didn’t dare to take their playing cards out.

“I’d love to meet Prince Tyl. Maybe he knows more about Camelot. Aren’t princes the children of a King? Maybe his father knows King Arthur.” Lovell said, already nearly forgotten about the commotion he had caused. He was more at ease with the ginger-haired fellow than the rugged guardsmen, even though he seemed to have more authority. He glanced back at his ears.

Nair was happy to find himself with a noon free of duties and naturally that had brought him right to the orchards and the fields. Almost every time he had the chance to, Nair was out there admiring the trees and the growing fruits and looking on to the fields.

Today though, his attention was drawn away by a small commotion from further down the field, by the hill.  

The guard’s raised voices had him squinting his eyes in their direction. With the bright sunlight in his disadvantage, he could only barely make out the shape of a horse and a rider. When some wispy clouds passed over however, he recognised the steed as Tyl’s and his eyes widened in surprise. He knew for a fact that Tyl was inside the castle, and he didn’t usually allow others to ride that prized specimen… With furrowed brows he marched towards the scene.

Pieces of golden jewellery glimmered in the glaring sun and his expensive silk version of a warrior’s uniform reflected his status plainly. His ginger hair was braided and gathered in a high bun at the back of his head, showing off his own pointed ears.

The glorified servant stalked up to the small gathering at a brusque pace and came to a stop a few steps short of the guards. Before he’d arrived to the scene the rider and Tyl’s horse had cantered off. The majestic gait of the royal steed and the ease with which he performed hadn’t surprised him, but the equal performance of the rider had.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He barely raised his voice but spoke with unwavering authority. He had yet to get a good look at the person riding but he could tell that it had to be just a boy, or perhaps a young man.

“Who are you?” he demanded, tracking the pair with his piercing teal eyes. “Get off of the horse and come introduce yourself.”

The men looked at Nair and immediately stopped chasing the horse. In the clearance, the rider cautiously trotted closer. Without even trying to hide his curiosity, he stared at Nair’s red hair and pointy ears. His eyes flicked from the men back to Nair who he could tell was in charge. He dismounted nervously, the lobed slashings of his tunic rippling in the air stream.

For a moment Nair thought that he had been mistaken and that the rider was a girl rather than a young man. The way he gestured was neither masculine nor feminine, or both masculine and feminine at the same time, and Nair suddenly became aware of how artificial and normative their own movements were. He banished his confusion to a back chamber of his consciousness.

The youth bowed courteously to Nair the way his mother had learned him. He had practised the gesture a lot, but had never performed it for real. The red-haired man filled him with awe. He reminded him of a woodpecker with his red head and his colourful silk garments.

“Why are we still playing this. You can clearly see he’s cheating.”

Annoyed, the other men put down their playing cards and glared at him.

“Who’s cheating? You’re such a baby.” But the interruption was irreversible and the men had lost their concentration. They looked over the vast fields they were watching over.

“Wait, where’s the horses?” someone asked. Another cursed in a southern language. From behind the hill, a regal white thoroughbred appeared, followed by the rest of the herd. The white horse was worth more than all the others together, which were each worth more than what all the guards earned in one year together. But the horse was not alone: somone was riding on the thoroughbred. Clearly not Lord Tyl and clearly not the Arab prince that had given him the horse years ago. The rider turned the horse towards them and waved.

“What the-...” The guards stood up and grabbed their weapons, stepping into the dry midday sun.

“Greetings!” he said with a clear voice. It was a skinny teenage boy with a white page cut from which two small pointy ears jutted. Around his waist he carried a harmless shortsword in a scabbard that looked like it had belonged to his grandfather. The biggest guard stepped up, pointing his finger towards the boy.

“That horse is Lord Tyl’s! That is Tyl Kallias. Get off now!”

Someone levelled a cross-shaped tensile weapon at him. The boy looked intimidated by the men and their rudeness.

“Lord Tyls? That’s not how he introduced himself. I found him down the hill there.” He vaguely gestured behind him.

“You didn’t find him. You’re tresspassing. This is all the property of the Kallias family!” the man pointed at the horses, the field and the hills. The boy still did not flinch when he repeated that name.

“You mean somebody owns the horses? I don’t understand.”

“You’re stealing, kid.”

“Stealing? No! I asked politely.” He tapped the horse’s neck. “I’ve never seen such a distinguished horse and my mother said I always had to be polite. I can well imagine he is your lord.”

At this point the guards were getting really annoyed. The confused rider appeared no real threat. Except to their jobs, if they didn’t catch him. They stepped up, but the horse nimbly stepped backwards and wheeled, quick as water. Even without tack or saddle, the boy and the horse moved like few would perform at a dressage championship.

Short intro

Lovell was born in an enchanted fay forest to an elf princess, who raised her on her own. Lovell is only half elven, because her father was a human, a famous knight of King Arthur. After growing up and meeting a human for the first time, Lovell too wanted fiercely to become a knight. Her mother, who was afraid and wary of the outside, explained that girls could not become knights, but Lovell pleaded and finally they used fay magic to change her into a boy. The magic was only half effective though, because Lovell was not entirely an elf like her mother. When the sun shines, Lovell is a perfect squire boy, but when the sun sets and the moon comes out, Lovell is a girl. The biggest difference however, is that Lovell’s shoes are slightly too big during the night, and slightly too tight during the day. She’s either a feminine boy or a boyish girl, and on the whole does not care much except if it helps to become a knight. Dressed up as a knight, with the belt of her father, a shortsword and a tunic from the knight, Lovell leaves the forest in search for Camelot and a knight to become squire to.

But the outside world is very strange, even stranger than she or her mother could ever imagine. Outside, it’s the 21th century, and the world goes ever faster. Those who were young in it yesterday hardly recognize it today. The world has nearly forgotten about Camelot or Arthur and there are almost no knights left. But Lovell is determined to become their squire, and be taught by them in order to become a knight himself. Even if it means learning everything about this new world as well as the old.

Asking the way to Camelot, naive Lovell is bound to end up in unfamiliar, dangerous places...

 Name: Lovell (When Lovell was a baby, her mother lost her. She looked everything and finally found her daughter playing with the wolf pups in their den. ‘Lovell’ means ‘little wolf’ in the languages of romance).

Height: varies

Age: late teenage (too young to be a knight, but old enough to be a squire)

Eyes: bright spring green

Hair: curly blonde (almost white) page cut.

Distinguishing marks: short pointy ears, only half as long as her mother’s

Gender: male (during the day)/female (during the night)

Special skills: elf healing, understands the language of wild animals

Key virtues: curiosity, modesty, politeness, enthousiasm and love, fairness, true bravery

Key flaws: cowardice, afraid of violence, apathy, dependence, often meek

Adelin is a Templar knight living in the early 12th century, a time where the order was still new and developing their identity. Underneath Jerusalem the Templars had found ancient secrets and treasures, and with those the order of the temple had become a force of progressiveness and change in the world. Adelin is a teenager hailing from Normandy, who has joined a small preceptory in the South of France. He has never felt home in Normandy, where he was disregarded as the n-th child of a minor nobleman, little more than a servant to his distant parents. But he has always looked up to wandering knights, and when he first saw templars with their snow white mantles, their travelled faces and exotic oriental customs and their code to protect the weak, he immediately admired them.

Now, in the events that lead up to the second crusade, Adelin has been sent on a special mission to Jerusalem along with his preceptory brothers by Bernard of Clairvaux. After many adventures, he will finally get mixed up in the secretive business of the Templars and come between two powerful internal factions, the progressive doves and the belligerent, conservative hawk faction which wants to transform the order into an orthodox, militant crusade lobby.

My Templars are not like most templars. They are not icons of inter religious struggle, european or catholic supremacy. In the early days, the templars were warrior monks, following a moral code and a spiritual calling. When we think of knights today, we think of a warrior who uses their sword to protect the weak and innocent. This idea explicitly originates from the Templars. Templars were not modelled on knighthood, knighthood was modelled on the Templars. During this period, the Order would have been very diverse and multicultural. They travelled a lot, communicated with everyone from the kingdoms of Europe to the Middle East.

Adelin is an oc from a story which I never got to finish, and he is well fleshed out and has his proper storyline. The tale will involve an ancient gnostic relic which will have big time cosmic consequences if used by the wrong persons. I prefer to roleplay Adelin in his historical setting, but this can be suited to fit your muse's setting. I see Adelin as a guardian of the mystic relic, perhaps he slept eternally in a sealed rock church in Cappadocia, Syria or Lebanon, only to waken up in the 21th century. At any rate, there is no canon Adelin and I'd love to improvise to suit something that you'd like too. So if you want to include a soft-spoken, vaguely gay teenage Templar novice in your roleplay, please indulge me!

(In the main story he falls in love with Nizari Muslim fida'i Nur (known to history as the Hashashin) who I probably will not include in this roleplay).

En'Adelin de Nuormandía - Brother Adelin

H: 1m75, lanky and clumsy

W: 55kg, thin, with narrow shoulders

E: very bright sky blue

H: dark brown, short Norman undercut (tousled at the front, shaven in the back)

F: upturned nose, and big jug ears which greatly embarrass Adelin (he constantly shifts his hair to hide them as much as possible). Vague androgynous prettiness

L: Norman Old French (mother tongue), Occitan (fluently), Medieval Latin, Classical Arabic & Persian (modest understanding)

O: crossdressing girl identifying as man in some versions, confused bisexual boy in another. He/him.

Personality

Always quiet and soft-spoken, Adelin does not like to draw attention. He is very modest and a little insecure about himself, but honesty and fairness is very important for him. He has never felt at home in his family and never felt a connection with his homeland. Growing up, he has developped a fervent admiration for knights - the good, shining armor kind. He has joined the Order because of that and feels more at home in their preceptories and among their ranks. Adelin likes animals more than people, mainly horses (before he joined the Templars in the south of France, he was a stableboy in Poitiers). He feels equally fascinated by women, especially Alienor of Aquitaine and her ladies in waiting who he admires but also easily befriends. He is naturally curious about the outside and is easily distracted by new things.

Equipment

Like his Brothers, Adelin wears old, second-hand clothes (too large in his case), old-fashioned leg bindings, a simple snow-white cape (without red cross at first) and a shining state of the art 12th century sword and scabbard. Templars are forbidden to have possessions and are assigned horses per mission. Adelin's favourite is a grey dapple who he often talks to. Around his neck he wears a sobre wooden cross and a coin-sized templar seal.

Other historical characters

Bernard of Clairvaux (large ham, slightly villainous ideologist of the Order) historical fact: did not wash

Alienor of Aquitaine (affable queen of France, rebellious but mysterious) historical fact: wore armor and rode horses with ladies in waiting in waiting during the 2nd crusade

Thierry d'Alsace, Count of Flanders, ubervillain: a self-centred egoist and liar who wants nothing more than temporal power and prestige.

Ask me for more background! I like researching, talking and writing about this background as much as roleplaying.

Roleplay hooks

Your muse might be looking for a loyal friend or someone to talk to. Adelin could be a sort of spirit follower or a celibate ancestor spirit looking for a ward to protect. Or he could be a flesh and blood boy straight out of the middle ages, looking with bright eyes and surprise at your world. If your muse is confident, well meaning, protective paternal or maternal figures, Adelin might gingerly become your follower or "templar Brother". If you like mystery and adventure, Adelin might involve you in ancient gnostic conspiracies and cosmic dramas that could change the world. He might be the last Templar and confide in you, or might join your cause since his own world is so far away and so changed that his ideals no longer hold water.

He'd probably need a lot of explaning, because to a monk of 800 years ago, the modern world might not be easy to understand... Think of explaining a smartphone to your grandparents... and add 750 years!

Freyðis, Chooser of the Slain. A young, unproven valkyrie who wants to prove herself. Seeks not just any warrior’s soul, but the greatest and mightiest hero of Midgard to bring to Valhalla.

Hair colour: dark bog iron reddish brown Eye colour: Nebra sky disc blue

When the gods feast in their hall, they drink mead. Lots of mead. In fact, so ubiquitous is their connection with mead that even in Miðgarðr the drink is known as the drink of the gods. When a human dies, their relatives bury them with a goblet of mead so that they may enter the hall of the gods in the afterlife. It is said that in Valhalla the drinking horns of the gods fill themselves with the divine mead but this is not true. That is the task of their servants, the valkyries, who are the gods' most esteemed retainers. So fast and efficient do they fill them that it appears that the horns fill themselves. Every guest has a valkyrie to serve them, from the highest god to the most insignificant elf or human soul. Some valkyrjar are famous and loved by all, like the daughter of the Hammer God, Þrúðr, the Spear God's favourite Geirskögul and the triplets Svéva, Sigrún and Brynhild.

Whenever there are heroes fighting in Miðgarðr, the valkyries fly towards the battle and choose who lives and who dies. It is their task to bring these souls to Valhöll where they are given mead and a place at the benches. To the gods, they are servants, but to the humans, they are demigoddesses of violence, death and battle. Only the noblest souls who suffer a heroic death are taken to the golden hall. The other souls travel together with the veiled Sun and the silent elf court along the dark path underneath the waters of miðgarðr to the east, where they await reincarnation.

But not all valkyries are well-known and entrusted with the task of transmigration. Frejðis is the servant of a minor god, an elf retainer of a lesser tribe of gods. She is one of the youngest and most inexperienced of valkyries. Her main task, during the day, is cleaning and sweeping the floor (a daunting task nonetheless, considering that we are dealing here with banquetting, mead-drinking gods). At night however, she is one of the most rowdy valkyries: she loves nothing more than bets, wagers with the gods, drinking games, competitions and far-fetched stories of heroism and battle. Easily one of the most colourful and recogniseable valkyries, she always tries to be in the middle of the attention. She hates to be such a minor servant though and wants nothing more than the honour and fame that she, in her own eyes at least, rightly deserves. At her worst, she mildly irritates or embarrasses the other valkyries and gods. At her best, her antics and stories highly amuse them. Once, she disappeared for fourteen nights (although nobody really noticed), only to return with a slight lisp, a sore tongue and golden tongue piercing that was slightly too large. She had it made by seven dwarfs and had them imbue it with magic. Whenever she bragged about something henceforth, everybody would listen instead of just ignoring her. Nobody really wanted to know what she gave the dwarfs in return. But the dwarves, who were anxious to be cheated their part of the bargain, built in a second enchantment: that she could not lie and had to fulfill whatever she bragged about.