Complicating the 7th Sea: Objectionist Sects

There is only one movement of Objectionism in the 7th Sea main rulebook or in the Eisen book (where one would logically expect to find the religion expanded). Since we're complicating Théah, let's go ahead and add back in a bunch of sects, make it a little spicier.

Amboisnots—the Reformed Church of Montaigne, Amboisnots are a Magisterial Objection sect found in Montaigne. Since the first reforms of Lieberism, the Montaignians have been struggling to find a way to cope with Amboisnots; the Edict of Chartrouse in 1610 declared Objectionism legal in Montaigne and recognized members of the Amboisnot Church as citizens of the kingdom. This was in the wake of the Tumult of Hugo, a plot conducted by Hugo du Toraine in an attempt to wrest control of the Montaigne government from the Church of the Prophets by kidnapping the young king.

Lieberism—the "main" branch of the Objection movement, Lieberism follows the teachings of Matthias Lieber and grew from his objections to the Vaticine order. Whenever "normal" Objectionists are mentioned in a 7th Sea product (as opposed to Church of Avalon folk) they are Liebers.

Hyperianism—An extreme (l'objectionist extreme) sect, Hyperianism grew from the split between Andreas Hyperius and Matthais Lieber over the divinity of the Prophets and their physical presence in the world. Hyperianism emphasizes both the Theology of the Will (voluntary union of Theus and Man) as well as the State of Predestination (all those who will be saved are predetermined to be saved). Hyperianism is primarily to be found in Northern Eisen and parts of Vendel.

Rededicants—A primarily peasant sect, very popular amongst the Eisen peasantry and parts of northern Vodacce, Rededicants believe that they must be figuratively reborn into a community of the faithful. Persecuted by both the Vaticine as well as the Magisterial Objectionists (such as Liebers), the rededicant theology focuses on mystic revelation and the ability of the individual to tap into the power of Theus and receive insight. Communities without traditional marriage or other social ties feature prominently in Rededicant faith—as does the denial of the material world as evil. This has prompted the Vaticines to label the Rededicants "Manikees," a sect that was suppressed in southern Montaigne and northern Vodacce during the Middle Ages.

Fiction: The Masque of Faith

For earlier Giancarlo stories: The Pillars of Hercules, The Siege, The Hired Blade pt. 1, The Hired Blade pt. 2, and his Flashing Blades Character Sheet

I was a young and tender age when I found myself coming into Roma. I had always dreamed of that sacred city as a little boy, but more because of the vice and sin it represented than out of any holy duty. It was enough to know that the Curia, that scheming cesspool at Roma's heart, was always after Venetian bounties, Venetian lands, their fingers always dabbling in the affairs of my fair home. I didn't go because I wanted to see the Pope or his toadies, whom I despise even to this day, but because I had met a woman—really not much more than a girl—on a moonlit canal one night and I could not forget her. This was in the full idiocy of my youth, you must understand, so I was willing to do anything to see her again, even travel to the seat of all vices.

And yet! Perhaps I was in luck, for some months before my arrival, who should be installed upon Saint Peter's Throne than Pietro Ottoboni—a Venetian! So as you can imagine my spirits were higher than would otherwise have been even as I strolled in from Ravenna. I sneered at powerful old men and made mock of their phallic noses and their disgusting wigs. The men of Roma appeared to be no different from the men of France; pompified, sisified dandies. A wig like that on the docks of Venezia would get you heaved in the Grand Canal for your troubles! Even Morosini, old fraud that he was, knew better than to wear a wig with his frippery. Though imagining his cannons blasting away the history of the Greeks still causes me to chuckle a little; those greasy oil merchants have long chafed under the Turks and proclaimed that they are the founders of all civilization. To see their monuments reduced to stone splinters and leaning columns never ceases to amuse, and we have Morosini to thank for that.

But I digress! I was there in Roma, near the Porto Flaminia after spending the night in a little coaching house on the road that winds its way down from Florence. Florentine innkeeps are of a much higher quality than Roman ones, or so I have found, and since the inn was visited by Florentines in great number they were required to keep their standards up. Not like those reeking cesspools down in the Aventine nor in the money-sucks of the Vaticani.

Giancarlo of Venice

At Mike(of Really Bad Eggs)'s request I've done up the statistics of Giancarlo of Venice, the character from the Giancarlo stories I've been writing on and off. If I've done everything correctly, this is how it should all shake out.

Strength	7
Dexterity	12
Endurance	14
Wit	12
Charm	9
Luck	16

His height and build is Average and Thin, thus granting him a +1 to his dexterity.

He is a Gentleman (born to a moderately wealthy Venetian merchant and banker).

He is a Citizen of Venice, his family name (which has yet to be revealed) appearing in the Golden Register of those families which hold citizenship.

He has 10 base hp, with no bonus for strength, +2 for high Endurance, and +1 for high Luck, giving him a total of 13. His Encumbrance Value is a base of ten, with a -1 for strength, +1 for endurance, and no modifier for dexterity (leaving him with 10.)

Having 12 skill points (1 extra point for wit and 1 extra point for luck added to the base of 10.) He's a Gentleman, having been raised in the banking practice of his father. Spending his skills he winds up with the following spread:

Banking (costs 2 points, trained by his father)
Carousing (2 points)
Etiquette (1 point)
Languages (1 point for French and 2 points for German... not enough for Croatian, but I'll say he bought it with experience at some point)
Seduction (2 points)

He knows the Italian Style of Fencing which I believe gives him an expertise rank of 10 in the foil, rapier, longsword, baton, main gauche, and buckler. He has a +1 to-hit with a lunge or thrust, and with two extra points left over he buys expertise upgrades in rapier and longsword.

He takes the flaw of Duelist (he has not yet been able to refuse a duel!) and uses that point to buy another rank of expertise in the longsword, granting him a rating of Experienced with most of his weapons, a Scholar with the longsword, and an Expert with the rapier.

He has only 12 Livres to his person (he is always poor!) and makes no yearly income as his father gives him no stipend. His social rank began at 7, but by his carousing and mercenary work (and the dishonorable way in which he fights, etc.) I figure it's not a far shot to grant him a social rank of 5 instead.

The Hired Blade (conclusion)

Today I have the conclusion of The Hired Blade for you guys. I have also made a collection of my short stories available on amazon for the kindle here, if anyone is interested. The first portion of the Hired Blade is here, if you want to start from the beginning.

I awoke again and found myself surrounded by sea-green darkness. Helena was there next to me, seated upon a chair by a silver mirror, and she was wearing pants and a silken shirt. I sat up, feeling my bones protest wearily, and the sheets that had covered me rolled down from my chest to pool at my waist. "I have had strange dreams," I said, eager to find that my voice had returned to me.

"You were delirious," she responded. Her accent was strange and musical, her voice like the plucking of a Roman lyre. "But now you've come back to the world and you can be of service."

"Service?" I asked, furrowing my brows. The last thing I was hoping for from Helena was to give her service, unless it was service of the pudenda which she was looking for. "What do you mean?"

"Well," she said, some what testily I may add, "I saved your life. Don't you think you owe me a little something in return?"

"I would not call it little, signorina," I said with a smile as I hitched back the covers a little more.

"Not that," she said, playfully slapping my belly. I had once had a quite magnificent belly, toned and oiled, but all that had gone to waste in the cellar cell where I had been held. "Besides, if you tried to take me right now you'd shiver to pieces."

Fiction: The Siege

How is it that I, Giancarlo, manage to find myself in the worst possible positions no matter where I am in the world, no matter what great powers are clashing? Perhaps it is sweet Fortuna who draws me there, that fickle bitch! Perhaps it is because I am like a crow, scenting the geysers of blood, the putrefaction of corpses, and the crisp smell of powder from across the world. However it may be, I found myself on the island of Corfu in July of the year 1716.

It was a hot July, and I had thought to find refuge amongst my fellow Venetians. As usual, I had spent all but a handful of ducats when my story begins and I was looking for work. I always seem to be looking for work, and it is the most brutal of work which presents itself. Over the past few years my countrymen saw their colonies in Byzantium being taken away from them by the Sultan of the Ottomans. Corinth, Navarino, all were lost one by one to the armies of the Turk. I suppose I had it coming to me, being so close to the enemy during such a vigorous war, but I was in desperate need of money and my relations on Corfu have always obliged.

Fiction: The Pillars of Hercules

This is a short story that was inspired by this post over at Really Bad Eggs.

I, Giancarlo, had never before been on such a ship. The waves rocked her at a fever pitch, for the shallows of Cabrita are not friendly. In this case I had been hired by the Portuguese scoundrel Marquês das Minas, João de Sousa, to travel aboard the little flotilla headed to Gibraltar to break the floating siege that had ringed the southern bay of the Rock. The French were trying to drive out the Allies and prevent them from using Gibraltar as a port of call. I, of course, had no dog in this fight until the Marquês approached me in Lisbon. I was down on my luck and had nearly spent every last rei that I had, so of course I agreed.

Admiral Leake (an unfortunately named Englishman!) took me aboard with no question when he learned of my provenance, particularly what I had done during the Battle of Cremona. Through no ideological commitment of my own (you should know by now that my only ideology is to eat and have a place to call a bed at night) I had been one of the men who infiltrated the French garrison alongside that infamous prince, Eugene.