6 - Mounted Combat

Path of Night, War of Ages, is an actual play in the World of Darkness where friends tell a mature story with safety, consent, and care, so listener discretion is advised—and so the War of Ages rolls on.

Previously, tempers and court politics simmered as high and low clans split at the festival; now it is time to prove strength. You’re led to the lists, Ambrose arms you with practiced calm, and he bows you into a quiet prayer for safety and victory.

Roland bows, settles into the ritual of armor and saddle, and takes comfort in the cadence even if the Latin is mostly familiar sounds. He sizes up the field, checks Velantiu’s temper, and asks Ambrose about opponents, tactics, and the house rules.

You will not see famous tourney stars here, but the knights are sturdy and bright, and your French cut, though road-worn, still reads sharp. Your horse outclasses all, Ambrose is quiet steel, the prince’s favorite seems to pierce armor by unnatural means, and the joust is three passes to unseat or take it on clean strikes.

I clock three redheads whipping the low clans into a frenzy around Alexios, and their bodies say they’re angling for a public rite, not a choice. I read one of them, do not love what I see, and drop a lullaby with awe to soften it into piety and calm.

The low clans whirl into laughter and heat, Alexios’ passions ignite under Malkavian touch, and they push to stage it in the prince’s sight. Your song cools the edges, but the kiss lands hard and the night tilts.

I let her sip once or twice, then the tongue changes, the vision becomes a jackal-headed god promising to make me see God, and that’s my line. I surge my strength, shove her off, and make it clear there’s a limit.

Up in the high seats, the prince bristles at another Malkavian mess, and Zorayan counsels regal distance, promising friends will keep order. The orgy shrinks under Saive’s lullaby, the lights and eyes return to the lists.

Kachinel schools her face while enjoying the chaos and the currents underneath, notes Zorayan’s glance toward Novaarpod, and eases back into the show.

Roland rides out gleaming, asks Lady Dogmara for her favor and earns black silk, swallows a vulgar taunt from the shadows, and takes his mark with a smile.

Your first foe is mortal and you level him without meaning to; you hoist his arm to keep it gracious, the crowd cheers, and the prince lines up the real test against his Ventrue sheriff.

Before the clash, Ambrose quietly conveys Zorayan’s demand for three tilts and no early unhorse, couched as respect for your hosts so your honor carries it.

Pride bites, then Roland reins it in, nods toward the box, and gives them a duel worth watching.

On the first pass, your precise lance scours the Roman emblems from his armor and leaves him rattled while his blow glances off; the stands rise for another charge.

Kachinel savors the impact, feels the prince’s hand settle on her lap, and lets a quick, sharp smile show before it’s gone.

I let his hand rest where he put it, slide my nail under his pinky, and with Vicissitude and a little blood for steadier dexterity, lift the nail clean without a twitch.

My sleeve drops to cover it, I quietly pocket the prize with a touch of legerdemain and willpower, and keep my face composed.

Your touch makes the roll easier, three clean successes land, his appearance takes a hit, he snaps his hand back like from a burn, and no one notices the lift.

I knock off the Carthage mark, then carve away the Roman sign while I soak his swing and turn it aside with my shield.

The symbols are gone, his armor hangs wrong, and your parry sends him past without contact.

On the third pass I go cold and focused, Celerity and Potence humming, split my actions, and commit to the full horse maneuver with my mount and lance held dead still.

He’s not even aiming to unseat you; he means to spear your horse, and an empathy read catches the cheat.

A subtle wash of shadow spooks his mount just enough to make the strike sloppy.

I spend willpower and slam home a brutal hit, but his retaliatory terror snaps back and I can’t finish the unseat.

He hisses behind the helm, throws a weakened dread gaze that barely lands, dips for your horse, spooks his own, and gets dumped to the dirt as the crowd erupts.

I beat down the fear, wheel past him without a hand up this time, salute the prince, return Lady Domada’s favor with thanks, and ride off the list still hot but in control.

Path of Night is a Vampire the Masquerade Dark Ages actual play with Alexios, Katronel, Roland, Saïve, Zaryen, and storyteller Lex; music this episode is Don’t Look Back by Danny Hadan and Maya Belsitzman; we use the twentieth anniversary Dark Ages rules with light house tweaks; reach us at the podcast email.

Catch you next time, K Knights.

My god, this might be our best episode yet; hi, also.

I’ve looked at the face of God and it’s terrifying, probably not what you expected.