Adelaide de Saint Jean

Though of excellent pedigree, by anyone's standards, Adelaide was not about to be auctioned off for marriage without at least having a say in it...



Str: 9    Int: 17   Wis: 16   Con: 11   Dex: 14   Chv: 14

Com: 15   APs: 7    HP: 12

Title: 1.5          Rank: 1.5

Magic [ 198 MDMU   54 MPRS   82 MPSS   19 dist   15 Inate Protection]   6 Pray

  • Telepathic Sending/Receiving
  • Mesmerism
  • Clairvoyance
  • Hypercognition
  • Teleportation
  • Klutzokinesis

  • Catapsi (static)
  • Deflection
  • Redopsi (returning)
  • Damping


Melee Combat: EmpN (14) (20) cr (14) par 19 np  Fum: 1  3 np

Ranged Combat: EmpN (12) (19) cr  **  19 np  Fum: 1  3 np

Armor:   3 Kg Head Padded            2 Prot   0.6 Kg    1 Dam   2 HP

              Body Medium Cloth      0 Prot   1.0 Kg    0 Dam  10 HP

              Arms Medium Cloth      0 Prot   0.5 Kg    0 Dam   3 HP

              Hand Medium Cloth      0 Prot   0.1 Kg    0 Dam   0 HP

              Legs Medium Cloth      0 Prot   0.6 Kg    0 Dam   4 HP

              Feet Thin Cloth        0 Prot   0.1 Kg    0 Dam   0 HP



  • Heraldry
  • Chivalry
  • Horseman Skill


  • Norman (speak/read/write)
  • Welsh (speak/read/write)
  • Auld Wormish (speak/read/write)
  • Sidthee (speak/read/write)

Adelaide, youngest child and only daugter of Roger de Saint Jean, Duke of Shropshire, lived a pleasant and spoiled life until the death of her beloved father.  Her mother, a pleasant and lovely woman, of noble bearing, had passed away some years ago, and was thus unable to give her daughter any solace or advice.

Roland, Adelaide's eldest brother, succeeded their father to the Duchy of Flintsire, soon appointing, Ligart, their other brother, as one of his advisors.  Lord Roland, having always thought his father far too indulgent of his headstrong sister, soon made plans for her advantageous marriage.  He was eager to solidify alliances with nobility of lengthier establishment than their own, established in Welsh territory only within the last fifty years, and somewhat tenuously held.  With the inducement of both Adelaide's pretty face, and a generous dowry, he was soon able to persuade the Earl of Shropshire, Lord Miles Montgomery, to accept her hand.  Lord Miles was an older man, not quite so old as Adelaide's father, who had been married twice before.  Both his previous wives had died in childbirth, without managing to leave him an heir.  Needless to say, Adelaide was less than pleased with the idea.  She prevailed upon Ligart to defend her, and he half-heartedly presented her case to their brother, realizing that no doubt, Roland was plotting marriage for all of them, to the best advantage of the family.  Eventually there was a heated argument between Adelaide and Roland, after which she was bundled off to her Aunt, in Cheshire, with the hope that said worthy lady could make the girl more reconciled to her fate.

Unbeknownst to Roland, Adelaide had no intention of being forced to submit, and so, during the course of the journey, she managed to elude her escort, and set off on her own, heading west, deeper into Wales, but farther from brothers, aunt, and intended bridegroom.  With a fine horse beneath her, and money in her pocket, Adelaide reasoned she could live quite nicely for some time, and rather relished the thought of being a carefree peasant.

Within a few days, however, the hardness of the road, the dreariness of the weather (very wet, but not at all unusual for a Welsh spring), and the lack of pleasantness in townsfolk if she ever ventured to address them in Norman before addressing them in Welsh, was getting to her.  Adelaide bemoaned her current existence, though her pride would not allow her to turn back.  At the next town, Adelaide spoke only Welsh, and enjoyed being babied and tutted over by the innkeeper's wife, fed a hot meal, finally being able to dry her clothes, and sleeping in a real bed, though not so large or comfortable as her bed at home.  Her spirits began to revive.  That is, until, again on the road, and without a town in sight, the rain was yet again pouring down, soaking through her newly dried clothing, and probably even soaking through her saddlebags, though they were lined with oilskin.  Night was falling, and Adelaide did not relish the idea of spending yet another night curled up under a tree, hoping it would keep the rain off of her.  Suddenly, however, after a bend in the road, she saw lights up ahead.  Eager to get to a place that promised warmth, and at least a roof overhead, Adelaide urged her horse on, unaware that she had turned off the main road, and eventually came to a small hut. Upon knocking at the door, Adelaide was admitted by a wizened old man, who eyed her with a not so pleasant look.  Too tired, cold, and wet to care, Adelaide begged shelter for the night, and offered to pay for whatever food might be available.  Silently, the old man nodded, setting a stool for her by the fire, and dishing out a bowl of a most unsavory broth.  Something in the spices had an odd taste, and must have gone to her head, because the next thing Adelaide remembered was waking up in a dark hole, wet as ever.  Her hands and feet were chained, and something decidely unpleasant-sounding was making crunching noises somewhere above her head.  

Adelaide de Saint Jean

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