"Lady," he implored, his head filling with visions of past battles. "Grant me one last, glorious moment. One last foe to banish in your name. One last battle to fight before the night draws in and claims me."
- —Duke Corentin's prayer[1]
Heraldry of Brionne
Corentin of Brionne, celebrated as the "Paladin of Maelys," "Marcher-Lord of the Silver Plain," "Defender of Fort Adeline" and "Champion of Gaelle's Virtue," was the renowned Bretonnian Duke of Brionne in 1974 IC. He was slain in a battle withe Dark Elf Beastlord Rakarth who assaulted Brionne in that year during a slave-raid.[1]
History[]
The Lady's Dream[]
Corentin was a mighty warrior and hero of Brionne. By the year 1974 IC, he had fought in many battles, so many in fact, that they had simply begun to blur together for him. The duke feared no enemy, whether man, beast, or abomination, for he had faced all in battle and cut them down with equal contempt. Rather he knew dread, the notion that soon he would be forced by his advanced age to put up his lance once and for all and surrender to infirmity or senility. He was a powerfully built man, but with each coming day Corentin knew that age was fading his old strength.[1]
The ageing duke knelt at the base of his personal Grail Shrine, and begged the Lady of the Lake to give him one last glorious charge. To die in battle rather than live the rest of his days as an old man. He was answered by a mystical Grail Damsel, who decided to answer his prayer and give him the end that he wished...[1]
That night, Duke Corentin dreamed of every battle he had ever fought in during a lifetime of war, reliving the moments as if they were yesterday. He dreamed of the Deliverance of Quenelles, where he fought as a young Knight Errant, following his master into his first ever charge against rampaging Orcs. Then he was bearing the standard at the Siege of Trantio, cutting down the heretic traitors under the lead of the pernicious mercenary-princes of Tilea, as they turned against the River Tarano, the crossing suddenly impossible thanks to the blessings of the Lady of the Lake.[1][2a]
Then it was Castle Darkheart, where he fought against the Undead hordes assailing the Bretonnian king's forces over thirty years earlier. Deep in the Irrana Mountains, Duke Corentin had saved Carcassonne from the largest Skaven invasion in living memory. Battles against every foe known to Men, and some of which Men had no knowledge, came to him. Barbarous Greenskins, cruel Dark Elves, the savage Warriors of Chaos, the mercenary-princes of Tilea and the petty Border Princes. All of these foes and more had he faced in battle, and whatever foul magics or cunning stratagems they had employed, Corentin knew they could bleed and therefore die.[1]
The Last Charge[]
When the duke awoke, Brionne was assailed by the armies of the Dark Elves, a Black Ark looming in the distant ocean awaiting fresh slaves. Corentin rallied his troops and prepared to defend his city, monstrous Hydras and other such war beasts appeared among the Dark Elven forces, and the duke sent his knights to prepare for the coming charge. As the mists parted, an immense Black Dragon appeared above the Dark Elves, sending many of Corentin's men-at-arms into a panic.[1]
The Dragon was ridden by the enemy's leader, a warrior clad from head to toe in jet black plate armour, worked into the most cruelly delicate forms. The Dark Elf lord's eyes shone from within his tall helmet like coals in the night, and he wielded a long barbed whip, which snaked and coiled as if possessed. He was known as Beastlord Rakarth, a being who had laid waste to entire towns in the past, in both Bretonnia and Norsca.[1]
Corentin was not afraid. He stood tall, meeting the Dark Elf's gaze, an example to every man who looked on in fear. Rakarth demanded that Corentin give up some of his men and women to slavery, then the forces of Naggaroth would leave his lands. The duke was enraged at such an insult, but calmly replied that the Dark Elves should leave whilst they still could. The enraged Dark Elf lord cracked his whip, sending his army into a fury in response. Corentin had one last foe to defeat. He drew his mighty sword and thought of the coming battle.[1]
That night both armies prepared for battle, and when morning struck Corentin rose to meet his destiny. It would be halted, however. The duke's knights, knowing of their lord's deteriorating health, did not want Corentin to lead the charge, refusing to allow him a part in the battle, fearing his demise. Duke Corentin begrudgingly acquiesced and remained within the castle, saddened as he was to miss the charge.[1]
Corentin's loyal knights charged forth without him, riding into battle in a feat of epic glory. The knights rode through the Hydra's fog of noxious fumes, spearing many with their lances and covering the earth in black blood. Sadly, more of these monsters kept coming and eventually the knights of Brionne were fighting desperately to stay alive. From the castle above Duke Corentin raged at the sight of his knights being killed by such vile beasts. As the last of his knights were cast down, he looked on as the Dark Elf army charged towards the city. Brionne was lost...[1]
Corentin ordered his attendants to arm him, and none could argue for there was clearly nothing to be gained from doing so. With silent reverence, the duke's attendants presented him with his blessed lance, set his shield upon his arm and placed his helmet on his head. The duke descended the stairs of his castle into the rubble laden courtyard below, monsters rampaged throughout his city and cowards fled from battle on all sides but the enemies.[1]
He cast his mind from this tragedy as the gates of his keep opened. Blinding light spilled through, so white and so pure that the duke knew it was not natural. Time slowed to a leaden crawl as his steed passed through the gate, its speed building as it bore him onwards. There beyond the gates was the enemy, and he remembered his past battles as his heart sang. One last battle. One last glorious charge before death finally claimed him...[1]
Three-Fingered Fanchon[]
Sir Leodegar of the Golden Hart, a Grail Knight, who had been a close friend of Corentin, remembered that the squire of Corentin had once tried to feed his horse, Xiphos, with rotten grain from the bottom of a barrel. The beast gave him a nip that earned the man the name Three-fingered Fanchon.[2a]