Brother Ambrose - TedS

Player: TedS
Faction: Latin States, Military and Monastic Orders
Email: ambrose@crusade.chaosdeathfish.com

The man by the name of Brother Ambrose is a portly, dark haired monk of the Benedictine order. A middle aged, quiet, and pious fellow, Brother Ambrose reportedly has some skills as a mage, and is learned of many things. Renowned by all his brethren as a most pious man, a skilled biblical scholar, and gifted librarian, Ambrose is currently tending to the Library of the Mountain Monastery, St. Jerome on the Rock.

With the outbreak of peace, Brother Ambrose has been drafted into service looking after the interests of the Benedictine order and to sue for peace in the holy lands. A job, it is rumoured, he has taken with some unwillingness but dutiful obedience, displeased at being dragged from his beloved books.

Sheathe thy Sword, Lord

A History of Faith, Volume 24, Professor Richard Bricks, 1892

'… The group of people who, in the troublesome times of the 1190s, allied to fight evil was a group which existed in a perpeptual state of flux. Whilst it began as an informal gathering of like minds, the then Pope, Peter II, apparently saw the wisdom in formaling it after the alleged ascention of Jacob into the Angel Sauriel. Sauriel's prompting, and the aid of a number of people, lead to the formal creation of the Order of Sauriel as an officially recognised team dedicated to knowing, and fighting, supernatural evil.

The death-rate was abysmal, and grave sicknesses of the mind and spirit, were common among the men of this Order, but a solid core of extraodrinary individuals formed the basis of the initial creation of this team. […] The third man of note, a Brother Ambrose, formerly of the Benedictine Order, was a member of the team from its inception in 1192 until his demise in 1198. He is credited with aiding them with his research skills, organisation, and quiet and strong faith. He was also known to use his close links to the court of Brass, which, incidentally, had the effect of making him one of the strongest mages in the land, to aid the forces of the Order in battle. It's noted that he never once drew a blade until his death, and he has often been held up since as the example of what can be achived by non-violent means.'

Letter from Initiate Dominique Green, now resident in the Sanatorium of Rome.
'My lord Ambrose is an odd man. Despite being as an aid to him by the Order, I've seen little of him, often when I bring him his drinks or food in his library (oddly, he drinks the strange Mint-scented drink common among the Moslems). More often, I'm tasked with brining him scrolls, books, reagents, and taking his letters to a number of people who, if the addresses are accurate, are quite considerably above his station.

His room is full of musty tomes, many of which have images and engravings which make me feel quite ill at ease. I do hope he dosen't force me to help him with his research proper, for I would not like to have to read the texts. Now that I think of it, I wonder if these books had anything to do with the fact that his last three aids are now quite ill, and cannot be visited in the Rome Sanatorium. However, my mind is sligtly eased by the fact that I sense that he is a good man, due in no small part to his most heavenly aura and the celestial harp-music which follows him when he walks. He is, without a doubt, the most pious-looking man I've ever seen. Strange, he seems less than pleased with the music, and flinches every time it starts up. An unexpected reaction to such a divine gift. I also feel he must be a brave man. Twice now I've seen him head off to battle among men armed with the sharpest blades and the strongest armour the Holy City can provide, resolute, despite being armed with a walking stick and a funny book of Arabic Phrases. I've heard that the soldiers of the Order sleep easier when they hear Ambrose rides with them, which is odd given the loudness of his celestial choir at times like that.

As I say, and odd man…'

Letter from Srgt. Smith to Mrs. Smith, 1198

'Dearest Mum,

I must tell you that I feared I'd not get to write you again. I recently fought for my life against an elderich horror the likes of which I've never seen before, and hope never to see again, and witnessed a great miracle and feel most blessed.

It was very strange. The archivist reported somthing wrong some fiveday ago. Apparently in the deep-cellar archives, archivists were dissappearing, and there was a stench of foulness which permiated the bulding. When I sent a few squads down to have a look, those that returned were quite unsettled, claiming some amorphous tentacled beast had taken over the lowest archive and turned it into some form of hive or nest. Well, I organised a cordon of the Guard, and tried to assail the beast only to have my finest squad beaten back by morping tentacles and an unholy stench which had us doubled over before we could draw blades.

Well, needless to say I turned this over to my higher-ups, who propmtly scoured the city for somone to help. They found Brother Ambrose, the strange glowing Monk with a reputation in this area, and he hastened down to the archvies. He seemed most perturbed when he saw the creature, and I swear I heard him exclaim a herasy against the pontif's decision to keep the blackest texts in this room, together. Anyway, he issued us with strange-smelling plugs, for our noses you see, and told us this would protect us against the stench. Needless to say, we were heartened by this, and so once again charged the creature whilst the Good Monk began grabbing books off shelves and flipping through them, occasionally shouting odd questions like 'Does it look like an elongated Lobster?' or 'Would you describe it as a tentacled Panther?'. Well, we were having trouble as our blades made little impact on the beast, which I'd say looked more like a bulboe-infested egg, and those impacts we made were quickly healed.

Anyway, my friend Gertrand (you remember him? I told you about him last month) was regretably torn to peices, and we'd near given up when we heard an allmighty 'Ah Hah! I know it's weakness! It's….Oh….WHAT?' from the monk.

He was holding a very odd flesh-couloured text, and seemed to have it open on a page which indeed had a fairly good picture of the tentacled-egg. I shouted that we were losing men fast, and we needed his help. Well, his face did fall when he looked up, most distressed, to see that our unit had indeed been decimated, and for a unit of 10 that's a considerable loss. When he saw me looking at him, I imagine quite desperately, he blanced, and then seemed to make a choice, and dove forwards. He pushed me aside, and ran for the beast, yelling apparently foul things in what sounded like Arabic. Well, the rotund figure had little chance, and three or four of the beasts apendages skewered him. He fell to the floor, and me and my guys (all 8 of them) were stunned. The beast seemed stunned too.

Being closest to him, I sware I heard him croak 'Tell Peter…Tell him…I'm ready to quit now…' before he breathed his last. However, at this, things began going wrong. The heavenly light, which had been bathing the monk since he arrived, began to pulse. Whilst this was happening the heavenly music which had been swelling into an epic march began getting louder. The creature began to edge it's apendages away from the pillar of light, and it became so bright I could barely stand it, and at least one of my men turned away in pain. The angelic harmony became an…well, an angelic cacophany of noise: drums, harps played like I've never heard them. I swear I could feel the heat from 5 foot away, and inside the pillar I saw Ambrose's prone body begin to smoulder. The book in his hand ignited first, then his hair, and his body finally swiftly immolated in a puff of smoke. However, it was not over. In the awful din I saw the smoke form into the shape of a mighty Angelic figure.

Well, I'll be damned if two massive Brass Doors didn't appear, reflecting the shadowy angelic figure in them and the light did explode, and standing there was Ambrose, dressed in purest white, well, with little flame-like decorations, but nearly purest white, with the circular halo stuck to the back of his head, which now danced with white fire, and everything holy-looking. He looked at the gate, and seemed to smile. He turned to look at the quivering Egg. 'Two weaknesses: the Death Blood of a Virgin, to purify thy unholy shield, and the Cleansing flame to purge thy existance.'

Let me tell you, mum, I've fought elderich horrors who make geometry go wonky. I've faced the armies of heathens and heretics. But untill you've seen a dead monk armed with two firey swords set about a tentacled egg, you don't know what fury is…

Anyway,

Yours, lovingly,

Srgt. Ben Smith, Swiss Guard'

A Summary of the Courts, A.B. Gertude, 1226

'The Court of Brass is most strange. Of the many courts of the Djinn, the Brass court is different on two counts. The first is that every denizen of the court appears to be an Angel…or at least they told me they were. The second is that the Court's ruler is absent from the throne. We know not where this “Ophanim” may be but he has not appeared in centuries though his subjects wait patiently for him.

In his absence the court is nominally governed by a strange character. He virtually never appears, leaving the lesser nobles to answer all the Invocations addressed to the court, and requires you to reverse the ritual and visit him if you wish to speak. He is said to live in the tallest of the Towers of the Brass Fortress, looking out well above the Sky of Fire, in a most labyrinthine library. This library apparently contains hundreds of thousands of books, in every mortal language, written on paper-thin sheets of brass in Black paint. In it is said to reside every book ever residing in a library as it burned, faithfully spirited away and transcribed by the, err, Cherubs of the court.

About this being, little is known. However, there are some rumours. It is said that he goes by the name of Ambrose, and is worth hunting down for those on a quest as he will answer any question you pose him, albeit for a fee. However, it's also said this holds for every question ever posed to him save one: When one skilled invoker dared to ask him how one summons angels, the Sage was said to smile kindly at the man, pat him gently on the head, and hand him a book on basic invocation of the Court of Brass…'

Excerpt from the Catholic Encyclopaedia of Saints

Saint Ambrose of Jerusalem (1166-1198), Patron Saint of Angel Summoners and Artificial Insemination

One of the most revered saints of the 12th century whose shrine is at the monastery of St. Jerome on the Rock. Hailed as the man who ushered in the age of the Fourth Covenant with his appeal to the Angel’s of the Lord and who fought against the armies of Satan at the last battle. Did not die but ascended to heaven, carried by a chorus of Angels in golden loincloths. Canonised by Pope Peter II.

Fragmentary Recordings recovered from a PDA found in the ruins of UAC Teleportation Research Facility on Mars, 2145AD

”…Portal creation experiments proceeding well. Energy levels in the core are nominal though we are picking up some strange fluctuations in the exit gate’s distorters…“

”…First successful human trial today. We are very excited. Marine Sergeant Philips made the journey from the entrance to the exit gate and emerged intact…the only strange thing was that he swore he could hear a singing during the jump…”

“…We’re getting huge power spikes in the continuum buffers…*static cracking*…wormhole coordinates seem to be shifting…*static cracking*…we’ve lost the entrance gate…something in the portal…darkness…up tempo musical number…”

“…*Fragments of distorted music*…Oh God what have we done…we’ve opened a doorway…somewhere else…dark…so dark…”

“…*static crackling*…Snake! Giant Snake! Gods it’s eating the lab assistants…*Sound of crunching lab assistants*…Plasma weapons no use…*Weapons fire*…its taken down the Marines…came through the portal…*Computerized Voice announcing that a self destruct sequence has been activated*…”

“…can’t shutdown the gateway…*static*…something else coming through…golden…”

“…FEAR NOT BRIEF MORTALS FOR THE MIGHTY OPHANIM IS HERE TO AVERT YOUR DOOM! LORD OF THE HOST, SMITER…”

Remaining data unrecoverable.