“Merlin saith that in England shall be seen strange things, as preaching of traitors, great rain and wind, great hunger among the common people, great oppression of blood, great imprisonment of many men and great battle; so that there shall be few or no quiet place to abide in; the Prince shall forsake men of the church, Lords shall forsake righteousness, counsel of the aged shall not be set by; religious men and women shall be thrust out of their houses; the common people for fear shall not know which way to turn; parents shall be hated by their children, men of worship shall have no reverence of others; adultery shall abound among all; with more ill than I can tell of, from which, please God, defend us...”
- from The Prophecies of Merlin
- from The Prophecies of Merlin
It is the Year of Our Lord 585, and a tyrant sits upon Arthur’s throne at Camelot. King Constantine, the hope of Britain, is dead, and his heir, a girl of sixteen years, languishes in exile alongside the last of her father’s loyal men and true.
Sharing in that exile has been bitter for those who still believe in Arthur’s peace, noblemen and ladies now cast all across the lands of Britain and beyond. Yet now those men grow wary of whom they would give even the salt and bread of hospitality, for none wish to face the wrath of Morel, who has claimed Arthur’s seat at Camelot, and declared himself the one true king.
When the young king Constantine and his court achieved the reconciliation of his waring nobles, there were those amongst his subjects who saw only corruption, and self-interest. Broken men, finding no solace in peace, were often lost to lives of banditry. When villages and churches were beset by turmoil, robbery and rapine, the faithful cried out to Constantine, but the king’s men were wearied themselves, and for all those he could protect countless souls were left to the wolves.
Then came Morel abroad in Britain, a man of Arthur’s line, with an army of mercenaries at his back and Excalibur in his hand. There were those who flocked to him as the kingdom’s rightful reckoning, still others joined him because it was said he bore Excalibur, a claim that Constantine could not dispute. Where Morel’s army went, a bloody brand of peace soon followed for those who quickly submitted. For those who did not, followed fire and the sword.
No age or rank were spared these tribulations, neither women nor children, clerics or monastics. No Bishop ever occupied the see of Camelot for long, the flock of the land left without shepherds. Churches burned and their congregations decimated so that those who found comfort in the Old Religion might reclaim the places they had been driven from in ages past, and rumours spread of cults, of gods and magic not seen for generations have returned from the Unseen world to our own.
It is widely whispered, even within the walls of Camelot that his is a false Excalibur, a false crown, a false king. Still others say that the aging king has lost his virtues, if he ever possessed any, that for years he has suffered from a wound he received the day he slew King Constantine, a blow dealt him by Camelot’s Master of Arms, who in turn was slain by an old comrade, now a knight in Morel’s service. That wound upon the usurper’s body has festered not on his flesh, but upon the land itself, and perhaps upon Morel’s sanity.
The tyrant must be deposed, all good men agree, but who is there left with the will to fight, and who will rule after him? In Anjou, in the House of the famed Sir Kay, the court of his descendants call upon those who still believe in the principles of Arthur to come together and find again the Chivalry of Camelot, the Fellowship of the Round Table, and the guidance of the Old Ways.
Sharing in that exile has been bitter for those who still believe in Arthur’s peace, noblemen and ladies now cast all across the lands of Britain and beyond. Yet now those men grow wary of whom they would give even the salt and bread of hospitality, for none wish to face the wrath of Morel, who has claimed Arthur’s seat at Camelot, and declared himself the one true king.
When the young king Constantine and his court achieved the reconciliation of his waring nobles, there were those amongst his subjects who saw only corruption, and self-interest. Broken men, finding no solace in peace, were often lost to lives of banditry. When villages and churches were beset by turmoil, robbery and rapine, the faithful cried out to Constantine, but the king’s men were wearied themselves, and for all those he could protect countless souls were left to the wolves.
Then came Morel abroad in Britain, a man of Arthur’s line, with an army of mercenaries at his back and Excalibur in his hand. There were those who flocked to him as the kingdom’s rightful reckoning, still others joined him because it was said he bore Excalibur, a claim that Constantine could not dispute. Where Morel’s army went, a bloody brand of peace soon followed for those who quickly submitted. For those who did not, followed fire and the sword.
No age or rank were spared these tribulations, neither women nor children, clerics or monastics. No Bishop ever occupied the see of Camelot for long, the flock of the land left without shepherds. Churches burned and their congregations decimated so that those who found comfort in the Old Religion might reclaim the places they had been driven from in ages past, and rumours spread of cults, of gods and magic not seen for generations have returned from the Unseen world to our own.
It is widely whispered, even within the walls of Camelot that his is a false Excalibur, a false crown, a false king. Still others say that the aging king has lost his virtues, if he ever possessed any, that for years he has suffered from a wound he received the day he slew King Constantine, a blow dealt him by Camelot’s Master of Arms, who in turn was slain by an old comrade, now a knight in Morel’s service. That wound upon the usurper’s body has festered not on his flesh, but upon the land itself, and perhaps upon Morel’s sanity.
The tyrant must be deposed, all good men agree, but who is there left with the will to fight, and who will rule after him? In Anjou, in the House of the famed Sir Kay, the court of his descendants call upon those who still believe in the principles of Arthur to come together and find again the Chivalry of Camelot, the Fellowship of the Round Table, and the guidance of the Old Ways.
OoC Information
Circa Regna Tonat: The Old Ways is a weekend LARP set in a thoroughly ahistorical Dark Age Britain, heavily inspired by the Arthurian legends of Geoffrey of Monmouth and Thomas Malory. It is a character driven game of romance, drama, intrigue and action that will provide an immersive weekend.
The Old Ways will be the final chapter in the Circa Regna Tonat series Shunned House began in 2016 and continued with The Wager of Battle in 2018. This game will be a complete story in it’s own right, completely open to new players, but we are also pleased to announce we will again be accepting a small number of returning characters. If you are interested in playing your Wager of Battle character again, please contact a ref to discuss the possibility of including them in this story. Please note that this may not be appropriate for every character and will be allocated on a first-come, first-served basis.
The game will run from October Friday 16th to Sunday 18th, 2020 at the Birks, Duddon Valley, Cumbria.
The full ticket price for this event will be £70, and a place can be secured by paying a £15 deposit. Booking opens at 6.00 on Friday 3rd January 2020.
Booking terms, including our Equality & Diversity policy for this game, can be found here.
Disclaimer: Even the very wise cannot see all ends.