Sean's Character: The Valdunn Sincere

[Ripsaw51]

Duelist Bravura
Vodacce
Brawn 2
Finesse 3
Wits 3
Resolve 2
Panache 3

A foundling at an abbey, Val was raised as a monk and force fed languages and manners. At seven he began Ambrogia training by curriculum, not by choice. Val started to learn the streets and spent less time in the abbey, until his Abbott ejected him. His acceptance into the Swordsman's guild came with an anonymous gift, a chest of finery, weapons, gold and a note in Inish
"The Debt is Paid."
He begins the campaign escaping yet another ill-advised love affair above his station.
So far, Life is something that has happened to him, shoving him in directions unwanted for purposes unknown.

Star-Crossed

Able Drinker
Above Average Appearance
Cloistered
Combat Reflexes
Dangerous Beauty
Debater
Inheritance 1
Left-Handed
Linguist
Scoundrel
Showman

Athlete
Climbing 1
Footwork 3
Sprinting 1
Throwing 1

Bard
Etiquette 1
History 1
Oratory 1
Singing 1

Courtier
Dancing 1
Etiquette 1
Fashion 1
Oratory 1
Seduction 1

Monk
Calligraphy 1
Menial Tasks 1
Philosophy 1
Writing

Streetwise
Socializing 2
Street Navigation 1

Combined
Etiquette 2 (Bard and Courtier)
Oratory 3 (Bard and Courtier +1 HP)

Languages - literate in all
Avalon
Cymric
Inish
Castille
Montaigne
Thean
Vodacce

Swordsman School Ambrogia
Feint 1
Pommel Strike 1
Riposte 1
Exploit Weakness Ambrogia 1

Dirty Fighting
Attack 3

Fencing
Attack 3
Parry 3

Negate off-hand penalty
Option +2 twisting damage

[Ripsaw51]

EXCERPTS FROM THE DAILY NOTES OF MONSIGNORE BENVOLIO SILVESTRI
Abbey of the Blessed Star, Vodacce

YEAR 1603 AV
Another foundling on the steps this morning. Third one this year. Both orphanages have sent missives declaring themselves full—again. Naturally, they expect more gold from the Church or the Crown. We’ll keep this one. He’s small, quiet, and costs less than a sermon.

YEAR 1606 AV
The wet-nurse we hired for the boy was found dead outside a tavern near the docks. Shame, but he eats what we eat now, so he toddles after whoever gives him crust or comfort.

YEAR 1608 AV
A friar who hears the confessions of palace servants reported a curious tale: a minor noble, with a star-shaped scar near his ear, confessed guilt over abandoning a paramour while she was with child. Hardly rare.

Today, I observed a man with such a scar speaking to one of my brothers—leaving a generous donation in exchange for “spiritual peace.” I’m no expert in bloodlines, but the timing is right. The boy may be his.

Whether true or not, we can press him for continued “relief” on the boy’s behalf. I’ve instructed the brother to arrange for the nobleman’s “devotion” to bring him here fortnightly.

YEAR 1609 AV
My inquiries reveal our noble is a trainer at the Ambrogia Swordsman’s Guild. Useful. I’ve ordered the boy to oil the pews during his visits to chapel. Let the man see him. Let fate stir.

YEAR 1610 AV
Another incident. The boy brought me a document from Avalon, supposedly penned by an aide to a prince. The boy read it fluently. Curious, I tested him in a half-dozen scripts. The brothers have been industrious.

This child may be an asset after all.

YEAR 1611 AV
Success. The noble—our star-marked friend—has taken the boy as a student in the sword. Gratis, of course. I’ve also hired a jongleur to entertain in the dining hall twice weekly. As expected, the boy is enthralled.

He now speaks of the Swordsman’s Guild with poetic exaggeration. Recently, he "discovered" a long-dead duelist in a dusty tome and nearly vibrated with joy.

He’s calling himself Val, apparently.
I may find a use for him in politics.

YEAR 1618 AV
The boy—Val—is becoming a problem. Rebellious, distracted. He’s clever, charming, and makes friends among the rabble. His swordplay advances, but his heart strays.

I’ve urged his mentor to instruct him in etiquette and courtly manners. Draw him upward, away from the alleys.

YEAR 1619 AV
It won’t work. He’s too clever by half, too sincere by nature. He refuses to lie “for the greater good.”
I cannot afford such sentimentality in my plans.

It’s time he was done.

YEAR 1620 AV
Valdunn the Sincere has been ejected from the Abbey.

[Ripsaw51]

To the Radiant Lady Katerina,
whose smile once lit the cloisters of my mislaid soul,

May this pitiable note, composed by an exile in both land and love, reach you upon some golden Vodacce afternoon—when the wine is crisp, the breeze tender, and your loveliness undiminished beneath the weight of memory.

Though oceans separate us, I see you as vividly as if I still stood at your father’s window—gazing down upon your veranda, where you once reclined in the sun, gilded by its jealous light. Birds cease their song in your presence. Stars pale beside your fire. I ache to drink in that brilliance once more.

But I am not there, and I shall not be.
Today marks the eighteenth day of my coastal banishment. The shores of Castille pass by—riotous in their color, crowned with battlements—but they awaken awe, not joy. Joy is behind me, in Vodacce. In you.

The ship’s master is a kindly fool. He urges me to cast off this cloak of melancholy and greet the world anew upon our arrival in Carleon. He speaks of second chances. I hear only the echo of the first—you—slipping further into the fog astern.

His words, well-meant, reveal a truth I would rather stab than speak: I shall not return to Vodacce for some time—perhaps ever. And so, my Katerina, you must put me from your mind.

Your loyalty belongs to your family, your future to another. I curse myself for trespassing upon both. In the folly of moonlight and laughter, I dared tempt you with the illusion of freedom, a reckless promise from a man who could offer passion, but not peace.

You are the flower of your house.
I am but the thief who breathed its scent and fled in disgrace.

I shall try—valiantly and vainly—to forget. But I know myself too well. I will preserve the memory of our dalliance in the bitter vinegar of regret, sipping from it nightly like a fool who confuses pain with honor.

Until the gods right this cruel injustice,
until some miracle tears open the sea between us and bids it close again—

I remain, in sorrow and sincerity,
Your vanquished and besotted servant,
The Valdunn Sincere

[vogelsong]

Looks like a really fun concept!

When I do the math, I'm coming up with 132 HP. Let me know if you see a mistake in my numbers:

56 Traits (7 plus Nation Bonus)
25 Advantages (5+4+3+3+2+1+0+2+3+5)
15 Languages (2+3+3+2+2+2+1 Linguist Bonus: 4)
25 Sword School
08 Skills (4 Free: Monk, Dirty Fighting, Fencing)
10 Basic Knacks
03 Advanced Knacks (Seduction)

-10 Hubris
132 Total

[Ripsaw51]

Components added to Duelist template

Advantages 14
Cloistered 4
Debater 2
Inheritance 1
Linguist 2
Showmanship 5

Skills 8
Bard Skill 2 + 4 = 6
Monk Skill free from Cloistered
+1 to Oratory 2HP

Languages 8
I used Linguist to pay for Literate on all languages
0 Avalon part of template
3 Cymric
3 Inish
0 Castille part of template
0 Montaigne part of template
2 Thean
0 Vodacce part of template/native tongue

14+8+8 = 30HP

30 HP added to template
I pulled costs from the Creation Cheatsheet
did I miss something?

[vogelsong]

Components added to Duelist template

Well, there's my first problem, not realizing you were working from a template. The Vodacce Duelist template clocks in for me at 107 HP, which I think means you're getting a couple bonus HP. That's good news.

Advantages 14

I concur.

Skills 8
Bard Skill 2 + 4 = 6
Monk Skill free from Cloistered
+1 to Oratory 2HP

Adding new skills should cost you 2 HP per skill, regardless of how many knacks it has. And adding 1 point of Oratory is just 1 HP since it is a Basic Knack. So 2 HP for Bard and 1 HP for Oratory brings your cost to 3 HP.

Languages 8
I used Linguist to pay for Literate on all languages

Linguist has tripped up a bunch of us, unfortunately. The GMs have huddled and decided that the Linguist Advantage is applied before Literacy costs are applied. I don't think there's a thread on the forum I can point to for this, but it has been a topic of discussion on the Discord. What this means for your languages would be:
1 Avalon (Read & Write)
3 Cymric (Linguist deduction then R&W)
3 Inish (Linguist deduction then R&W)
1 Castille (R&W)
1 Montaigne (R&W)
2 Thean (Linguist deduction then R&W)
1 Vodacce (R&W)

So to sum up:
14 - Advantages
03 - Skills & Knacks
12 - Language
29 - Total, so 1 more HP to spend, or realistically more if you want to drop any Literacies now that you know they're not covered by Linguist.

[Ripsaw51]

THANK YOU!
I have a lot to learn here.

I used that extra point to get Able Drinker, so he can still fight in taverns

[Ripsaw51]

Excerpt from the journal of Giocomo della Notte
Fencing Master, Ambrogia School
Watcher, not warden

They held the trials in the underground Dome again; it predates our school, maybe even sanity. The cold grey stone was decorated with brightly-colored banners. The sand was fresh. That wouldn't last.

The setup this year was wondrous. Low roofs and false piers, dozens of crates to run across and dodge around. A real adventure in the Dome.

The Guild judges took their seats at dawn, all grave nods and wineless lips. The rest of us—fencers, masters, hopefuls, bored nobility in masks—filled the upper ring. Two-deep around the stone circle, we watched with the usual muttering, betting, and arrogant assessments. Everyone watching the same thing: who might be the next name whispered across Vodacce.

They ran Valdunn third in the order, just as I expected. Enough time for the crowd to warm up, not enough for the wine to turn them dumb. The place was full of guildsmen and next year's hopefuls. Every strike got a cheer. Every clever dodge, a toast.

He wore green, a sash loose at the hip, his dark brown hair curling in the heat. That damned half-smile like he knew the script better than the rest of us.

His trial? Chaotic. Improvised. Perfect.

He turned a rooftop stumble into a disarm, caught a falling opponent with one hand and earned a boot to the ribs for his trouble. His parries looked like accidents—until they weren't. And when he whispered something during a lock-up that made one attacker laugh as he fell, the whole Dome roared.

He bled a little. Smiled a lot. Bowed when it counted.

When they called his name, he didn’t look at the judges. Not me, either. He was already dreaming of somewhere else.

Still, he passed. Of course he did.

There was a chest waiting for him in the vestibule. Not Guild-issue. Not from me. He didn’t ask. He just smiled like he’d been expecting it all along.

I drank three glasses of wine that night.
One for his skill.
One for his future.
And one for a boy who might be my son—
who is now a Swordsman of Théah.

– GdN

[Ripsaw51]

Inventory of the Valdunn Sincere, Compiled Upon Departure from Vodacce
22 Primavera, 1625 AV
(Because fortune favors the well-prepared—and the well-dressed)

Style & Appearance
Three suits of fine clothing (rotated for effect, tailored for movement)

Custom twin belt scabbard in high-grade black leather

Sterling silver grooming kit, resistant to sea air and sabotage

Excellent boots, stormproofed, soft-soled, and smugly comfortable

A personal calling card and signet—just in case one needs to arrive

His abbey-issued hooded robe, sturdy and plain. A reminder of who he was.

Weapons & Defense
Matched Ambrogia fencing set: rapier and main gauche—balanced, battle-ready

Concealed boot knife (polished, wicked, unnamed)

Oilcloth cloak, deep hood, and optional dramatic flair

Intellect & Intrigue
Two modest songbooks (one sacred, one scandalous)

Writing kit with parchment, indigo ink, and a brass seal

Small reference book: The Language of Flowers—useful for compliments and coded warnings

A worn Tract of the Prophets (annotated, wept over, survived)

Letter of introduction from the Abbey, back when I was merely Val

Tools of Adventure
Grappling hook & silk rope (for entrances, escapes, and occasional rope tricks)

Compass and map case (empty, for now)

Flint and steel (fire: still the best argument)

Heavy fae-crafted lock securing my inheritance chest—no tricks, no curse, just finality

Remaining Funds: 50 Guilders
Held discreetly. Never in the same pocket twice.

Should fate demand more gear, I shall improvise. But for now—this is what I carry into Avalon.

—The Valdunn Sincere