Sir Madog
Coat Of Arms Argent a pale azure a otter reversed proper
Motto Navigare necesse est, vivere non est necesse
Full Name Sir Madog
Culture Cymric
Region Salisbury
Social Class Vassal Knight
Land Owned Manor of Winterbourne Gunnet
Gender Male
Height Size8 (short)
Year Born 464
Sir Madog is a knight from Salisbury.

He was orphaned at a young age. His father, returning from one of the larger battles on the continent, was shipwrecked on a rocky outcrop in a storm and died saving many of his crew from the seas. Madog vowed on hearing this news: from henceforth the boat would forever be his master, and that the common man would pay the price for cruelly robbing him of his father.

He is physically in excellent shape, gymnastic and lithe, and sports a jaw as square as a castle's ramparts. His short stature sometimes carries over to his short nature!


The Battle of Mercred Creek


Loses a bet on a friend, feeds some orphans.

As part of a minor gambling debt to Sir Rhodri, after Sir Aeron nobly (and unexpectedly) defended his honour against a rather rude Sir Lycus. The result was we were assigned to garrison duty this year. I was happy to supply the orphans with a good meal, Sir Rhodri's idea was far better than a knight pocketing a few pennies. It was heartening to see such a group of young children in good spirits, their basic clothing and ruddy faces belies did not tarnish their warm hearts. I asked cook to lay on a fine banquet, and she rose to the task. Meat and bread that would have fed an entire garrison of men was consumed within a matter of minutes, leaving a room of children with fat stomachs and warm glows. Adding a spot of entertainment, my squire and I put on a bit of swordplay with wooden training blades, the boys especially were keen to fight an actual real-life knight, so I invented a competition - if any of them managed to land a blow I would give them a special treat. The larger lads tried to use their strength, the smaller lads used their height but none landed a blow. One of the boys, an unremarkable lad by looks, held off until the last. "One day I will be a knight like you", he said, and a fire burned in his eyes, the like of I have never seen before and have never seen since. His first strike missed me by a considerable way and the sword clattered on the floor, the room erupting in laughter. I took pity on the young lad, and bent down to help him pick it up. Quick as a flash, he stepped to the side and kicked my leg from under me, landing me flat on my back, grabbed my sword and yelled with a flourish "do you yield, Sir Knight?". The room exploded with cheers and the boy was hoisted up on a hundred shoulders, victorious

True to my word (even if my pride was dented, my honour must never be), I showed up at the orphanage with my squire to invite the lad, a boy named Vannes, to be a knight for the day. I had considered showing the lad the reality of knighthood - solving petty peasant squabbles, inspecting equipment, attending court, polite talk with other knights - but reconsidered. He had won the challenge, not lost it! A day of jousting, swordplay and hunting was in order. The lad had never ridden a horse before but made a great effort, he seems to get on well with the animals. By the end of the day he was bashed, bruised and had a smile that went from the Cambrian hills to Silchester!

I had one last trick up my gauntlets, little did he know that very week I had received good news from my stables. The horse that I coincidentally had aided in birth was ready to be put into service (I was passing a field when I saw a filly in great distress, many years ago when I was but a lad myself - a scrawny animal that was pure white, had a shock of white mane and devlish red eyes. In desparation, I named him Epona, calling out to the Gods for aid in looking after this poor creature. I must admit, I have a soft spot for the waifs and strays.)

I rode Vannes back to his lodgings on this giant of a colt, it was clear 20 hands tall and was made all the taller by our short frames. His face was a white as a sheet, when he met the animal, but the two seemed to have an instant bond. Perhaps they recognise in themselves kindred spirits. Usually Epona is a handfull on his best day, but he was remarkably friendly towards the boy, even letting him tickle his belly. I took this as a sign and asked on the spur of the moment whether he would like to train to become a squire. He was a little on the young side, but I sensed a purpose in him, and knew he was going to be a hard worker. I felt today that the Gods were on my side.

Aids a mischievous Merlin. [ Merlin, that mischevous wizard! He tricked us into going on a wold goat chase, ending up fighting a three-eyed moster to prove our worth. In the end, we saw him boat on a lake to receive a sword, a green colour, but this sword cried power. We only knew this later when he presented it to Uther at court later that year.

Marries a woman of good standing. I have been a little lonely recently, and mentioning this in passing to a maternal grandmother last year was perhaps a little forward of me. To be fair, she was just waiting for a chance to meddle in my romantic affairs, it had been a long standing point of contention that I have not brought a lady home. There was a twinkle in her eye and I could see the possiblities unfold in her smile.

She did not disapoint.

A meeting was soon arranged in late autumn between me and Lady *InsertNameHere*. She is a relatively plain looking woman from Cambria, with flowing red hair, exactly the same height as me. But, by Gods, when she opens her mouth, such fire comes from her belly! She, like me, can't be done with idleness. A life of sewing by the fire is not one she could thole, she will more likely be found tending garden or running a household, riding horses or helping the driuds or somesuch. I've always said an easy life is a boring life!

Alas, the Gods have not blessed us with a child this year. I can only imagine they have a plan for us earthly dwellers.


Alas, this year has been one to forget. Indeed, I have mercifully not remembered much from the start of this year until winter court.

My Lord, Earl Roderick of Salisbury asked our group of knights to aid in the supression of the Saxon fleet. We were all too keen after the quiet year previous. We were victorious in the first two battles, burning the fleet where they were, and taking prisoners. The third encounter with the Saxons, we learned they were forwarned of our approach, and we were outnumbered two to one.

I was told that the first few seconds were a bloody affair, the Gods were against us this day. I was rendered unconcous, as was Sir Rhodri, by the sheer speed and strength of their attack. Alas, Sir Albanus was taken by a devastating blow. May he always be in our thoughts. It was only the quick thinking of Sir Elad that saved our skins from a humiliating capture or worse, he bartered our lives for the prisoners we took earlier. We sailed home in silence, contemplating the defeat, the swiftness of our friend's departure and the longing to be home again.

We built a tomb to Sir Albanus on return, it seemed only a fitting end to a knight we have known for so long. It was a sad farewell, and our first. The pain may ease in the coming years, but his was the first soul to part, and we will miss him dearly. The Gods have still not produced us an heir. With all the stench of death and defeat, I doubt my heart was capable of the task.

I will make sure of returning to the temple this year, and become more of an active leader. Perhaps the Gods will look upon this more favourably, I have not been much of a good father to my flock in this year, and that alone must change.