To Be Too Practical is Madness (GLOG Class: Paladin)

Everyone, of course, has heard the tragic tale of Alonso Quixano, who was so unfortunately driven to madness and death by those ever-foolish "chivalric romances," which any man with half a mind despises as if they called his mother a whore. Many thanks are owed, of course, to Miguel Cervantes, to Alonso Fernández de Avellaneda, and most of all to Sidi Hamid (Moor though he may have been), those noble biographers who preserved such a perfect specimen of the dangers of fantasy in their eternal words—but perhaps Cervantes, at least, may be accused of overmuch sympathy for the ailment of his subject. Even despite his largely sanguine treatment, some foolish readers seem to read into his words and their "sterile, half-educated wit" a nonexistent beauty in the malady of Quixano, and begin to seek it themselves. They find themselves lost in the idiocy of furious Orlando, beguiled by the bastardly Bernardo, and maybe even—horror of horrors!—seduced by the chaste loins of Amadís. These imbecilic figures find themselves but more lost than poor Quixano, for in this modern age of musketeers and swashbucklers, of intrigue and adultery, that useless chivalry is more distant and archaic than it was even more than a century past in Quixano's day.

 

By Gustave Doré, via Wikipedia

 

Class: Mistimed Quixote

 

Start with a broken-down rheumatic old nag, a flimsy suit of decorative armor, an antique, blunt, rusty épée bâtarde, an idiotic servant, a decrepit and failing farm estate, and a vast collection of worthless trash in literary form.

 

The Knight of the Sad Face: All those you meet despise your bedraggled visage and impossible delusions, but at least some find you amusing. Reaction rolls of 2-7 count as 3 (mockery and schemes for your humiliation, constantly on the edge of tipping over into blunt violence), and rolls of 8-12 count as 11 (playing along until they get bored, suppressed laughter breaking out into open hilarity). Priests, merchants, and boors react at -1; innocents and the easily amused react at +1.

 

I Know You, You Lying Scum: Whenever you are insulted in the least, whenever a lady is insulted in the least, or whenever you imagine such an insult deep in your diseased mind, you must make a save vs madness. On a failure, you spring instantly to indignant rage (in the case of a lady offender) or violent fury barely restrained by some pretense of honor (in the case of a gentleman offender). On a success, you are the very picture of Christian forbearance and mercy. When you are injured by a man, you may be beaten unconscious and badly bruised, but you are never killed or crippled.

Like Some Biblical Patriarch: Your servant will risk himself for you whenever you are in harm's way. You owe him an island as his wages for his faithful service as your so-called squire, and he will seek deliverance of his reward at any possible opportunity. Whenever your delusions overcome you, he must save vs madness. On a failure, he too is overcome. On a success, he attempts to dissuade you with an earthy proverb. Regardless, he holds Esprit for you, but only when you are mad. When your servant reaches 10 Chivalry, he becomes a Mistimed Quixote.

 

The Very Pillar and Support of All Knight Errantry: You see the world as it could be, not as it is. Inns become towering castles streaming brave pennants, travelers become mighty knights in gleaming armor, peasant girls and prostitutes become beauteous ladies clad in silk and gold (the uglier the woman, the lovelier the lady), the groaning of hogs becomes the blowing of proud horns, and so on and so forth, ad nauseum. Your perceptions change on a dime as your grasp on reality waxes and wanes. You hold Esprit for everything and everyone that you see, always.

 

When the True History of my Mighty Deeds Sees the Light: You have a pool of 10 points, called Chivalry. When you spend a point of Chivalry, you lose it forever, but your servant gains it. You may spend points at will, when performing acts of genuine good and kindness, to succeed automatically, as though you were a knight errant with a mighty arm, a keen mind, and a silver tongue. Everyone who witnesses your act must save vs madness or hold Esprit for you. When you run out of Chivalry, you are purged of your delusions, but they are replaced by an indelible physical ailment. You will die within the week.

 

 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go read the best novel ever penned. Again.