The Thoughts of Painted People

I've invented a new exercise to work on my ability to imagine what each and every NPC in a D&D setting might be thinking, and to strengthen my powers of description.

Here we have Pieter Meulener's painting Sack of a Flemish Village by Spanish Soldiers, painted circa 1654. (Sorry the quality isn't great when zoomed in; it's the best version I could find.)

Now, look at these closeups, where I've labeled several people with numbers. In this post, I've imagined snippets of those characters' thoughts, speech, and/or actions, which befit the events of this painting, and the battle that preceded them.

1. Holbrecht the Sorceror

I can only guess at what purpose these Spanish villains have for me. But they have taken me alive, and God be praised for that. I daresay I am the only Flemish soul left in all of Kruisbladeren.

For fear of my spells, they have tied my wrists, and soon they will surely gag me. Yet they are reluctant to touch me. The one at my right, smelling of beer and sweat, prods me with a spear now and again, but I can tell the fight is mostly gone from him: see how he sags in place, his countenance heavy as lead. There are too many Spaniards for me to escape -- even if my hands were free, I'd be cut down before finishing the first phrase of a spell -- but were this sluggard my only guard, I would take my chances at kicking him down and beginning to cast.

Teleport is the ideal choice, but too slow. Hold Person, then, or another charm to keep Sluggard on the floor, and then Teleport... But this is idle wishing. Perhaps I can reason with yonder man in the blue doublet. I espy a glimmer of Christian mercy in his aspect -- whereas the craven behind me dares not even meet my gaze.

2. Captain Emilio

"Hearken well, prisoner: we labor under no misapprehension as to the extent of your powers. You shall be bound and gagged, and remain thus throughout our march to Camp Reyes. Furthermore, you shall be attended at all times by six of His Most Catholic Majesty's soldiers and a padre of the Holy Church, who shall keep watch for any sign of witchcraft or apostasy. Any attempt at escape shall be met with immediate execution, may God have mercy on your soul. At Camp Reyes you shall be sworn into the service of His Majesty's Army of Flanders, there to be attached to the most noble company of Don Nacio Veracruz y Giraldez, whom God preserve."

Captain Emilio raises his eyes from the parchment bearing his orders and the mark of the tercio. He fixes his gaze upon Jimenez. "Vuesarced Jimenez, I charge you with the custody of this wizard. See him gagged. Choose five men of good Christian character to assist you, then present yourself to Padre Florencio at his tent by the windmill. Go with God."

Original Version

"Prisoner, hear this well: we are under no misapprehension as to the extent of your magical powers. You will be bound and gagged, and will remain bound and gagged for the duration of our return to Camp Reyes. You will be furthermore be guarded by half a dozen soldiers and a padre at all times. You will be slain instantly should you try to escape. At Camp Reyes you are to be sworn into the service of His Majesty's Army of Flanders and attached to the company of the most illustrious Lord Nacio Veracruz y Giraldez."

Captain Emilio raises his eyes from the parchment bearing his orders. He meets the gaze of Jimenez, one of his more intelligent soldiers. "Jimenez, you are in charge of this wizard. Gag him. Pick five men to accompany you, then report to Padre Florencio's tent by the windmill."

3. Jimenez

"Yes, Señor Capitán." Jimenez salutes. He gives the sorcerer the tiniest of apologetic glances. The sorcerer shrugs, and slowly opens his mouth for the gag.

4. Nacho

I raise the trumpet to my lips and blow the signal for all men to regroup. Castamere, my brother in arms, gazes out over the town.

"Kruisbladeren means 'crossed leaves,'" he says to me, as I lower the trumpet. "A melodious and auspicious name. It's a shame to leave such a pretty place behind. When we've cleared out all the bodies, it would be a fine base of operations. Far finer than that dump at Reyes."

I can't say I agree. The houses are narrow and ugly. But that big tree looks like a nice place to rest, at least. I didn't take so much as a scratch in the action today, thank the Lord, but the spirit of battle has heard my blast. Cross with me for failing to sacrifice more for God and His Majesty, the fighting mettle leaves my bones in an instant. I am tired beyond compare.

5. Obdulio Terrero

"You hear that trumpet? I told you we'd be falling in soon and we ought to get back. Lord, these are fine horses we've got now. I know, I was raised for a horse trader. Didn't suit my dad one bit when I enlisted instead. This gray one you have here, Romeo, that's the finest of the lot. We'll give him to the captain and he'll reward us for sure. Didn't I tell you we shouldn't fire the stables? Nobody even came out for the horses anyway. Stupid Dutchmen don't know what they've got as usual. I've half a mind to request the chestnut mare for myself. If Sergio doesn't need a fresh horse he'll let me have her, I'm sure of it. See how white her boots are, and the blaze on her face!"

6. Darion the Marksman

No proper battle, this. I killed seven, but would God it were twice that. The miller's whelp and the greybeard fell easy enough. That bare-pated churl with his scythe gave me sport. Aye, he could duck well enough, but these base-born peasants have no more wit than swine. Up he'd pop, same place every time, like a puppet at the fair.

Ha! His brains were better as a fine decoration for the stones than in his head -- he had small use for them in life. Miguel owes me his miserable hide for that shot, but I'd take a wine-skin in payment. 'Tis the only way to bear Obdulio's endless prating about his precious horses. I'd dearly love to turn around now, stuff my musket in that beast's mouth and put a ball through her head. Sweet Christ, but I'd love to see that strutting cock Obdulio befoul himself and weep. I'd pay twenty reales for the sight.

Original Version

It wasn't much of a battle. I took seven lives. I wish I got twice as many. The little boy and the nun were the easiest. The bald farmer with the scythe was the hardest. He was good at ducking. But farmers are stupid. When he ducked he came up in the same spot, every time. He wasn't using his brains anyway; he won't mind that I showered them all over the ground.

Miguel owes me his life for killing that idiot, but I'd settle for owing me a bag of wine. It's theonly way I can take another month of Obdulio's prating. I want to turn around right now, stuff my rifle in that lousy horse's mouth and pull the trigger. I want to see Obdulio shit his pants and cry. I'd pay 20 reals for the chance.

7. Julio

"Look, boys! A sack of silver pieces. I've got more money than the whole damned army!"

8. Sergeant Bruno Lopez

"You will not be killed, Doña Vermeulen. You are worth more alive than dead. Tell me where your family lives, if they yet live. If they send your ransom, you and your sister will soon see them again."

9. Jonkvrouw Mathilde Vermeulen

Beasts of Satan, that's what they are. Nay, worse than any of God's creatures. Even the wildest beast may know its master's hand, but these Papist dogs know neither law nor grace, and will lay waste to all Christendom if His Holiness in Rome but gives the word.

They have stripped me of all dignity: I, who am born to the nobility of Flanders, a Jonkvrouw of ancient lineage. My dear lord Markus lies cold. Goedele and Katelijne are gone to God's mercy. Of my brother Jaak I know nothing, though being a man, he must surely have met a soldier's end. Mayhap they are the fortunate ones, having already passed through Heaven's gate. Only my sister Emerencia and I remain in this vale of tears.

They shall have no ransom, nor the satisfaction of my person. I know well what befell the gentlewomen at Naarden. The moment this Spanish cur turns his gaze, I need but reach the bodkin in my sleeve...

Lord have mercy on my soul! What impious thoughts possess me? Holy Father, forgive thy daughter for contemplating such a mortal sin. The taking of one's own life is the surest path to eternal damnation. Perhaps sweet Emerencia might be saved. My sister has ever been biddable to my counsel. If I might persuade these brutes to let her bear word to our kinfolk in Arnholt... Though I know 'tis a fool's hope, still I must make the attempt.

Original Version

Animals, that's what they are. No, they are worse than animals. A bear or a dog can be tamed. Not so a Papist. He will rape and plunder his way to the end of God's earth and back if Italy wills it.

They have taken everything from me, and they have treated me like common trash. I, a noble lady, a jonkvrouw in my own right. Markus, my dear Markus, is dead. Goedele is dead. Katelijne is dead. Of Jaak I know not, but as a man he is either dead now or will be. They are the lucky ones; they have met God. Only Emerencia and I are left.

They will have no ransom. They will not have me, either. I know what happened at Naarden. As soon as this brute turns his back, I will have the bodkin from my sleeve --

What am I saying? I cannot. I would burn for all eternity. Lord, please forgive me for even considering taking my own life. Perhaps I can spare Emerencia. My poor sister will do as I bid. I can suggest that they let her be the messenger to our family in Arnholt. They won't do it ... but I must ask anyway.