Formendacil wrote:"Now," Quorandis turned to de Graff again. "I want you to take all the Club Knights that are still fit for action, as well Marshal Targon and his Dragon Masters. Go north, and seek out Lord Bjarn's allied army. Congratulate them if you meet them, and give them aid if they require it.
Formendacil wrote:"Oh no!" said Shainya. "More of our enemies. Those are classic knights and Dragon Masters. Pink-less Dragon Masters."
"Nay!" said Sir Dractor with a sudden smile. "Those be Club Knights, of Talistrand, and those Dragon Masters be our allies. This is doubly good news. The Black Falcons have been turned back, and Bernard Quorandis has sent men to our aid."
Note: This comes in right after the stuff above and before the everything else.
Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:As the last soldier fell, a trumpet sounded and everyone turned. A band of pink-clad soldiers, bearing the Black Falcon flag, were marching down the hill.
It was night time at the allied camp. And with the arrival of both the pink falcons and the Sorcerer King's dragon masters, the warriors of the battle for Orion were finally getting some well earned rest. At least, for the most part...
Targon couldn't sleep. So much had happened since the departure from Talistrand. The army had passed through waves, fields, and trees like a wind or a hurricane. Things had happened. LOTS of things had happened and Targon needed some time to sort it all out. Either that or something to drink.
But Targon wasn't the only one chasing sleep. In his tent Caimlin tossed and turned. He was exhausted of course. Terribly exhausted from his exertions during the battle. But for some reason he couldn't sleep. "What's wrong with you Caimlin? The battle is over. Go to sleep." It was true. The battle was over. All that was left of enemy was a few pockets in the lower half of Orion and the Back Falcons. They would pay for their part in BloodVaine's war. With BloodVaine gone, the allied army was had little left to attack. Caimlin didn't doubt that their next task would be to bring retribution to the Black Falcons. Also, Bernard would surely want to liberate his allies the Royal Knights. Caimlin could see that there was still more to do before order was restored.
That was another thing. How would the Dragon Masters survive without Lord Void? BloodVaine had taken many of the high ranking Dragon Masters into his ranks and as a result there were few who were fit to take their king's place. Caimlin knew that Jarvick would never take the position. His place was at sea and the Dragon Master troops already had other ideas. They had mourned the lost of their leader, but not for long. Above all things, Dragon Masters adapt and Caimlin had a sinking feeling that they would want him for their king. Not that he was afraid. If they people wanted it then he would do his duty to his country and accept the crown. But still... Caimlin had never wanted to rule and he worried that perhaps it would be too much for him. Sure, his men looked to him as a war hero, but Caimlin knew that it took more then that to run a country.
Sighing, Caimlin tried to think of other things. He wouldn't have to worry about ruling for a while, anyway. With the Emperor dead and no present heir to the throne, no new rulers would be appointed for a long while
With these thoughts behind him, Caimlin tried to get to sleep. He found, however, that there was more to be pondered first.
"So BloodVaine is dead eh? But how do we know? All we have is that wizard's word. We didn't see him go and we don't know how he died or who killed him either. And what about the deceiver? One minute it seemed like he was on our side and the next... The next we find that he's demon possessed." But what did it matter? They were both dead right. Derek had finished off the demon and Keavur stabbed the deceiver with his spear and dragged him off.
Caimlin rolled over and furrowed his brow. That's when it hit him. Every strength sapping blow he had delivered on the battle field suddenly built up and hit him at once. And Caimlin was out.
Meanwhile Targon sat with his back to a tent, downing a pint of rum, he had pinched from a keg in the tent behind him. "Ahhh" he said, coming up for air. "That's some good rum. What shall we drink to? To us? No. To Lord Void? Ah, yes!
"Here's to your health, Lord Void. May you endure a long and painful stay at the burning gates. Oh, and say hi to Bargon for me." Targon laughed. A long cruel laugh that fizzled out into a deep sigh. "Oh, what's the use. How am I supposed to gloat with Caimlin still around?" Targon knew that his old friend was the first in line to receive lordship of the Dragon Master kingdom. "Tyco, that burns. NANO!"
Targon stopped swearing, suddenly. He thought he heard noises and wondered if someone was watching him.
"Ah, well. you're still alive Targon. That's more then you can say for Drock." Now, there was a hint of sadness in the sergeant's voice. Drock was one man that Targon had actually respected. One that had been, perhaps, a kindred spirit in some ways. But sorrow, (unless it were for himself) was a place that Targon never lingered and he soon returned to his own troubles. Taking another swig from his pint, he turned to his favorite subject. A list of the people he loathed.
The Sorceror King was first. "Bloody sorcerers." Targon thought. "Oh yes,'Come on, lets go sailing around for no reason at all!' Bah! He's not so tuff. Doesn't scare me any."
The truth was that the everyone (with three small exceptions) was afraid of the Sorceror King. First there were those with great power or bravery, such as the old man. Second there were those that the Sorceror King chose not to reveal himself to, such as King Valentis and Bernard Quarandis. Lastly there were those, who like Targon, were too stupid to be properly frightened. Still, Targon was glad to be away from the Sorcerer King and even more glad to be away from Bernard.
Bernard was next on the list, right above Elwen. For although Targon was no longer enamored with Elwen, the events of the Grand Ball had left him with a strong distaste for the Classic legolander. "Arrogant show-off! he's perfect for the prissy princess."
Targon also had a strong dislike for Elwen. He couldn't tell where it came from, (she had never done anything to deserve it) but then, he didn't care. On the other hand Targon also felt a strange attraction to the lady. Maybe it was the challenge of winning her. An even greater challenge for someone like Targon. Or maybe... Maybe it was the constant ribbing that Elbadar enjoyed giving him. Targon was reminded of one such time on his voyage to the Royal Knights land.
"So tell me Elbadar. Who's idea was it to bring that snobby princess with us?"
"Princess? I'm surprised you don't know who she really is, Targon. Especially considering how close you were at the ball. Of course it was misery for me, overhearing your 'tact' with words and your 'gift' for song. Though I must say, it was nice to see you enjoying yourself, even if the lady wasn't."
"Don't you have better things to do, Elbadar? Like checking the water depth...personaly."
Whatever the case, Targon's thoughts often turned to Elwen. Especially when drunk.
Elbadar wasn't on Targon's list. The two had declared a truce for the moment. And a good thing too, because if they hadn't it would likely have resulted in chaos on the battle field.
But Targon wasn't thinking of Elbadar now. now he was thinking of Caimlin. "That Nano back-stabber!" Targon thought. He pulled out the dark green rock that Caimlin had given him.
"Magic rock. Ha!" Targon hurled the stone into a patch of tall grass. "Yeah right." Targon lasted a full twelve seconds before running after it. Down on his hands and knees, he groped wildly for the stone. Strangely, the rock had become a sort of friend to Targon. Pretty sad when your only friend is a stone. When Targon found it he realized that his pint was empty and would need to be refilled, so pocketing the rock, he returned to the tent and did just that.
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...
Ok, enough of that!