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Postby The Green Knight » Thu Nov 11, 2004 8:42 pm

"Quick, men. To the fire breathing fortress!" And he spurred his dragon into the air. Caimlin, still in shock leapt to his dragon and followed. He didn't know what this was about, but he wasn't going to stand by and watch.


"What are you doing?" Caimlin yelled, bringing his dragon up along side Jarvick's. The response he received was some sort of short range teleharm that manifested itself as a voice in Caimlin's head.

"I had a vision Caimlin. Trust me."

Now, as the two men flew closer, Caimlin could make out the form of a hooded man beneath them. Jarvick suddenly dropped to the ground on his dragon, bringing the flight to a jolting stop. By the time Caimlin joined him, he was already dismounted and waiting.

"Go on Caimlin. The man's waiting for you."

Caimlin was confused. Dismounting he looked again at the figure in front of him. Suddenly a glint of the sun caught on the man's monocle and Caimlin recognized him.

At first he couldn't believe it. Then, he still couldn't believe it. Finally he managed to squeek out a: "Lord Void?" Lord Void smiled as he came forward, walking with his inborn composure.

"Hello Caimlin." That was it. What ever doubts Caimlin had about illusions or phantoms completely dissolved right then. Before he could stop himself he had run forward and embraced his former master. Then, realizing what he was doing he quickly stepped back and saluted crisply.

"Sir!" He said, grinning from ear to ear.

Lord Void set his wrinkled hands on Caimlin's shoulders and looked straight into his eyes. Then, with a smile so broad and a voice so jovial that it could only belong to the new Lord Void, he said... "We made it Caimlin. We survived. We stuck it to that megabloks BloodVaine and lived to tell about it!"

It was a moment pure joy for the two men. They had lost so much and yet kept their own lives in spite of the odds. Soon Caimlin found himself doubled over in a fit of laughter that was heartily shared by his commander, Lord Void.

"But wait," said Caimlin, coming out of his laughing state. "Why didn't you teleharm me?"

At that moment Jarvick came up to the two men. "Greetings my lord. Your return bodes well for the future of the Dragon Masters. I would also like to extend my sympathies to you in the light of your loss. My allegiance remains yours even in your current state."

Caimlin was confused. "What do you mean, Jarvick?"

"I'm afraid you must excuse me now." Jarvick said, dodging the question. "Your men await Lord Void." The governor motioned to the coming procession of Dragon Masters and promptly excused himself.

As Jarvick made his way through the scattered boulders that once composed the fire breathing fortress he couldn't help but wonder how Lord Void had come to lose his powers. Not that it greatly affected to him. He knew that Lord Void would continue to rule as always in his pitiful, dry land. In truth Jarvick was as surprised to see Lord Void as Caimlin had been. His vision had been about something totally different.

It started at sea. Nothing but blue water in every direction. Then it changed. Now instead of water, Jarvick saw desert sand stretching to the horizon. There was a forest too and a tower near by. Suddenly there was an enormous bang and the tower exploded. A boulder came hurling straight towards him and then... blackness. A whisper of a voice was all Jarvick heard before he awoke.

"Find the counter spell, Jarvick. Find the counter spell."

Those words repeated themselves over and over in Jarvick's head. What did they mean. Jarvick wasn't sure but he guessed it didn't have anything to do with Lord Void.

Suddenly he turned a corner around one of the boulders and everything made sense. There, life size and lifelike in every way was a stone statue of Drock. Jarvick smiled, but it was a sad smile.

"So my brother, you are alive. And yet... And yet you are trapped where no spell known can free you."
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Fri Nov 12, 2004 3:52 am

The Green Knight wrote:At that moment Jarvick came up to the two men. "Greetings my lord. Your return bodes well for the future of the Dragon Masters. I would also like to extend my sympathies to you in the light of your loss. My allegiance remains yours even in your current state."

Caimlin was confused. "What do you mean, Jarvick?"

"I'm afraid you must excuse me now." Jarvick said, dodging the question. "Your men await Lord Void." The governor motioned to the coming procession of Dragon Masters and promptly excused himself.


G-7

Lord Void nodded at Jarvick and turned back to Caimlin.

"Caimlin, for your unending loyalty, I promote you to Brigadier General. My gratitude is unending, my friend."

Caimlin was staggered. He could not find any words to express his astonishment. He simply nodded mutely and saluted.

Lord Void nodded in understanding and said, "I have had no contact with anyone for days, tell me, has a new Dragon Master capital been chosen?"

Caimlin managed to recover his voice and replied, "Yes, my lord. The Dark Dragon's Den has been set up temporarily as headquarters until the Fire Breathing Fortress can be rebuilt."

"Very good. We should proceed there immediately."

"My lord," Caimlin hesitated, "What is this ailment Jarvick mentioned."

Lord Void's eyes narrowed, then darted to the approaching Dragon Master troops. "You will learn all when we reach the Den and there are no prying ears about." Lord Void said quietly, then he turned to the troops.

"Dragon Masters, we have won! Let us return in glory to the Dark Dragon's Den!" he shouted.

The Dragon Masters let out a roar, then began to head south to the new capital.
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Postby Formendacil » Fri Nov 12, 2004 5:48 am

Grid: I-10
Location: Just outside the Neverwood.

"What am I doing here?" shouted Elwen, alerting Jayko immediately to the fact that she was conscious.

"I rescued you!" said Jayko, offended. "You were in great danger."

"Danger!" scoffed Elwen. "The war is OVER. Where in blazes are we?"

"You were in danger," protest Jayko. "Grave Danger. I saved you!" Elwen ignored his protests.

"Where are we?" she demanded.

"East of the Neverwood," said Jayko, "we're going to Port Jozef."

"Through the NEVERWOOD?" said Elwen. "Are you insane???"

"The army got through safely enough," said Jayko, almost sulking.

"The ARMY was precisely that! The army!" replied Elwen. "Forget this. I'm leaving. If you want me, I'll be in Orion!" Elwen made to get off her horse, but she was still weak from the drug. Jayko lunged after her.

"Not Orion!" he cried. "You can't go back there. It's not safe!"

"Why not?" asked Elwen, trying to shake free of his stronger hold.

"Because Quorandis intends to take you!" said Jayko insistently. "He has a terrible reputation as a rake and womaniser. He's heartless!" Elwen stopped struggling to laugh.

"Quorandis?" she laughed, "Bernard Quorandis? Are you an idiot? He's been nothing but a gentleman all the way from Talistrand. Unlike some I could mention. Where did you hear such ridiculous rumours."

But Jayko was very, very serious.

"You're not going back," he said, his voice firm. "Not if I have to tie you to the saddle-bow to prevent it."

As it turned out, he had to do just that.
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Postby Loneranger » Sun Nov 14, 2004 8:21 pm

Grid J-12

The last few weeks in the Black Knight country was harsh and food was scarce. Sirion had moved to Rahnoen to get away from all the chaoes in the main city.

In the main hall Sirion was briefed

“M'lord. We have successfully moved all the food and furs into the carts and are now ready to leave for the main city.”

“Thank you, Leave a hand full of men here.” Sirion replied with a calm voice.

“You are not coming my lord?”

“No. I am not, I will stay here for a few months.”

“Yes m'lord.”

The Black Knight walked out of the room...

Sirion fell asleep in his chair dreaming of the goings on after the main battle...

DREAM/BEFORE...

It was cold and the main walls of the city were starting to crumble. Four days after the battle the Black Knights returned to the main battle field to only find Black Falcon graves. And hour didn't go by until they found what was left of the dead Black Knights.

There must have been 37 piles, each stacked with body's. All that was left after the body's had stopped burning was ashes. Sirion hurried to the scene were he fell down and started to cry.

END.

Sirion woke up with a tear running down his face. He slowely got up and reached for his wine glass which was empty...

He walk out of the main hall. As he opened the door sun shined on his face. Three Black Knights walked up to him.

“M'lord. Are yee ok?” One of them asked.

“I'm fine...” Sirion replied back.

Sirion basically dragged himself to his room, the silk bed was next to the door. He looked to his left at the wall, five sheilds showing the Crusder,forestmen,wolf pack,Classic knights, and Knights kingdom I emblem.

He walked next to the silk bed and layed down...

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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Mon Nov 15, 2004 3:08 am

Putting his hands up, the cheering stopped. The man opened his mouth and began to speak.


When Martin mounted the stone steps, the crowd cheered in excitement. The troops that he had led added to this making the din of voices sound lower and lustier. Putting his hands up, Martin turned one way, and then the other.

“My friends! Fellow citizens and comrades! I return today, victorious from this most recent war!”

The cheering resumed, louder then before. The Black Falcon kingdom had always been a more militant one, making Martin’s statement all the more welcome.

“Friends! Our army has subdued the Royal Knights, annexing valuable port cities, and important commerce routes. But we did not stop there! Pressing onward, we crushed the army of the Black Knights in a most terrible and memorable battle. We then withdrew and confronted a Legolander army, once again inflicting serious losses!”

Martin smiled as the crowd yelled ecstatically once more – the first statement was mostly true, the second a half-truth, and the third and outright lie. It did not matter though, especially concerning the third testimony – the larger part of the army had been left unharmed and only a few thousand souls had died there. As for the contingent that did get away, they were fiercely loyal to him and their lips would stay shut. Martin then continued his speech.

“It was in the last battle that Falconis, our wise and benevolent ruler fell in battle. His accomplishments were many, his shortcomings few. Now - today in fact – his son shall be crowned as king. The reason why I am here -”

Marin paused, collecting his thoughts. “[i]By God! Why am I here? I need time yet – time to build up the people’s faith in me. To confront the Marquis now would be foolish. Yes, I will bide my time even now.[i]” These thoughts flew by in the space of a half second, and he continued.

“The reason why I am here my friends is to greet the prince at his coronation which will take place this afternoon. I have given you an account of the war, and this small portion of our own army is one small part that enabled us to gain victory. My friends, today is a day that brings to a close one chapter in the magnificent and glorious history of the Falcons, and at the same time opens another one – one of peace and prosperity with benefits for all. We have yet to bring in a bountiful harvest, restore relations with our neighbors, and bring a fresh start to the old, decrepit and crumbling government of the Royal Knights. I thank you for your time, and I ask of you, all of you people to do these things and show the world the might, benevolence and the unshaking character of the Black Falcons.”

The crowd cheered once more, louder and longer than the previous times as Martin stepped down. Meanwhile, in the spire, Durlass looked down on the scene from a large, arched window.

“I do not like it. Not one bit. Martin is up to something and it’s more likely to be foul than fair.”
He tuned to a body of dome five men, dressed in the fine clothing that only the upper nobility wore.
“Martin must be probed – every little detail must be sought out – everything he has done and is doing in the present. Should he prove to be too powerful he must be removed. You – we, have done this before.”
Pointing at one of the men, Durlass continued to speak.
“You – Salodin. I want a spy planted close to Martin. The rest of you know what to do. Right now though, we have a coronation to attend.”
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Postby Formendacil » Mon Nov 15, 2004 6:01 am

Grid: N-24
Location: Talistrand

The war had been over for close to a month. There was still no sign of the return of Targon and his Dragon Masters. The Sorceror-king was irked.

Then Sir Victor de Graff returned, and reported that Targon had vanished.

Literally.

The Sorceror-king had had enough. Opening his mind, he searched Dametreos for Targon's thoughts. It wasn't long before he found them.

-Targon-

Somewhere, far away, Targon heard the Sorceror-king. The communication made little sense to him. It seemed like a teleharm, but not quite right. The Sorceror-king laughed to himself. He could project thoughts and read thoughts, at great distances, once he knew the person, without the aid of the magic called teleharming. The Sorceror-king was not from Dametreos, after all and his magic was much different.

-Targon. Answer- demanded the Sorceror-king. Targon decided to think an answer, and see what happened.

-Yes?-

-Where are you!- came the chilling voice of the Sorceror-king. -Why haven't you returned to Talistrand? My patience wears thin.-

The Sorceror-king listened with dismay as Targon laughed at him.

-You cannot reach me here! I am protected by a mighty power. And it is teaching me a great deal.-

-Where are you?- asked the Sorceror-king, his mental voice terrifying Targon even at the distance.

-Under MY dominion- came a third voice, a deep, evil voice.
-Leave him be. He is mine.-

The Sorceror-king did not know the voice, nor was he particularly frightened of it, but it was powerful, whatever it was. And Targon was not worth that much to him anyway. He had always been a nuisance.

-Have him then- said the Sorceror-king to the voice. -But be warned that he is practically useless. He is a self-seeking fool.-

-Your candor is amusing- said the voice, and then it ended the conversation. The Sorceror-king came back to himself in Talistrand.

It was all well and good, he thought, to be rid of Targon. However, he was the only Dragon Master that the Sorceror-king knew well-enough to contact mentally. Elbadar might be loyal, but he was also unreachable. And de Graff's news suggested that Elbadar might not return to Talistrand unless ordered, if ever.

The Sorceror-king was ill-pleased, but there was little to be done. He could not enter the Old Ruins alone, so said the magic.

He contacted Broadside.
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Postby Formendacil » Mon Nov 15, 2004 6:51 pm

Grid: H-10
Location: Eastern end of the Neverwood.

Formendacil wrote:But Jayko was very, very serious.

"You're not going back," he said, his voice firm. "Not if I have to tie you to the saddle-bow to prevent it."

As it turned out, he had to do just that.


Elwen was not at all pleased at being tied to her horse, but she was still weak, from lack of food and drink, and from lingering effects of the drug.

She was also getting scared. Not of Jayko, Heaven forbid!!!, but of where he was taking her. The Neverwood was wild and forbidding at the best of times, and it seemed darker and more malevolent than it had two months before, when the army had passed through.

At first, it seemed as Elwen was just imagining things. They encountered no troubles, unless one counted Jayko's feeding her, because she was tied up, as trouble.

But when they went to sleep that night, it took a long, long time. The forest was darker than pitch. The trees seemed to lean malevolently over their camp. Their fire seemed to produce neither heat, nor light, nor smoke. And periodically, bright, curious, evil eyes peered at them from behind the trees. It was only after exhaustion finally overwhelmed them that they fell asleep.

Elwen was surprised to find them unharmed the following morning. After promising Jayko that she wouldn't flee, she was untied for breakfast and then they mounted and rode onwards.

Elwen wished she hadn't made Jayko any promises, but she would keep her word. Still, it was very hard not to turn and run, especially when they were set on by a great, growling monster.

The horses panicked, and galloped onwards. Elwen clutched tight, hoping they would make it.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Mon Nov 15, 2004 7:37 pm

forester3291 wrote:"Why thank you sir. I was just doing what any Forestman would do for the Elk man."

"Thanks again." Shainya shouted after him.


J-8

Bjarn shifted in the makeshift bed and sighed. He felt tired, but everytime he attempted to sleep the tyco cart would dip into a hold and rattle him painfully. Each time this happened Bjarn gritted his teeth but said nothing. The Forestmen were weary enough, they did not need their leader shouting at them for something they could not fix. Shainya's talk with him had calmed Bjarn, and had seemed to seep all of the anger out of him. She was right. He was now physically different in many ways, but the person inside was the same. Bjarn shifted again, resolving to never loose control of his emotions again.

"Brix and Blox, Bjarn, ye look fine today!"

Bjarn sat up and grinned at the green-clad figure of Jack Craft, who displayed a wide smile in return.

"You don't happen to have a bottle of that Classic Rye Ale, do you Jack?"

"It pains me to inform ye that the last bloomin' bottle was consumed by meself and Fox yesterday!" Jack put a pained look on his face.

Bjarn chuckled. "Alas, I have to suffer with herbal tea while you two guzzle the night away..."

Jack raised an eyebrow and glanced around furtively. He withdrew a bottle from his cloak and passed it to Bjarn. "Mum's the word, but here's a sample of a brew ol' Jack found. Seems to be quite an old bottle of strong Wolfpack brew."

"Excellent, anything to dull the pain." Bjarn swigged the contents of the bottle, then choked half of it up again.

"Megabloks, strong indeed!" he sputtered, tears running down his cheeks.

Willem Blackcloak and Graygon sidled up, grinning. "Aye, Bjarn, that be a mighty powerful brew to down for an amatuer like ye!" grinned Willem, who grabbed the bottle and drank half without flinched. Graygon finished it off with a grin. Bjarn shook his head in amazement.

"Somethings only Wolfpack can do." he grinned.

"Aye." agreed Graygon, "Anyway, we've just come from the front of the caravan. We're about to enter the Forestmen lands, but that mage Bourne stopped us before we could continue. He says work needs to be down and wounds need to be healed before we - what was it Lord Willem?"

Willem finished, "We tread through the forests of old again. He seemed quite adament."

Bjarn shrugged. "What he has planned I know not, but I trust his word. Besides, it is nearly dark. Have the caravan set up camp and we'll continue on tomorrow, or when Bourne is ready."

The two Wolfpack members nodded and left to spread the word.
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Postby The Green Knight » Mon Nov 15, 2004 8:23 pm

Grid: J-10
Location: An inn in Orion

"It was a terrible scene, let me tell you! Fireballs wizz'n this way 'n that. People runnin' fer their lives. It woulda been one thing if it was only me I 'ad to worry fer. But a course I had my Delvey and the six youngins to take protection of too. O' course we were up and outer of the city with as must speed as the fear of a giant dragon can afford. But it weren't no easy task neither! I tells ya them angels must've been watching our very steps, or we'd never 'ad gotten out with our skins!"

It was morning on the first new day since Walf had returned to the capitol city. The group had spent the night in an rather crowded inn, run by a man named Biirn. Right now they were all in the main part of the tavern listening to the inn keeper tell the story of his escape.

"This war is been bad business and that's for a truth. Sure you may think it good business for me, seeing as how your homes are laid to ruin and as how ya'are now filling my rooms to the brim. But I tell you this! It's a good fortune for all of us that this 'ere inn was spared and in this time when all 'ave suffered so greatly, I can't find in me heart to charge you for yer keep."

At this, there arose a loud cheer from the crowd and several mugs were raised in toast.

"However!" Said Biirn, cutting off the applause. "However, it seems that my wine cellar's been plundered and several of me best barrels, broken or stolen. Because of the shortage and the multitude of dry gullets. The tavern will still be require'n payment fer the ale."

There was no appluase this time. Only uncertain looks from several men to their flagons.

As soon as Biirn was free, Logen approached him, with Walf following behind.

"Excuse me sir, but I'd like to have a word with you."

"Yessir govner, and what word might that be?"

"Um, yes... You see I'm trying to secure some extended lodging for a friend of mine. He's been badly wounded and will need proper treatment until he gets better. I'm willing to offer this sword as payment."

Logen unfastened the gold hilted sword and scabbard and laid it out on the tavern bar.

"Hmm." said Biirn. "Well I usually don't except anything short of trigs or cobles, that is, when I'm charging at all. But if this friend of yours is wounded like you say, I will take it as payment for seeing after him."

Biirn picked up the sword and held it at arms length. "Fine looking piece of metal though, idn't it? Definitely not standard, though I think I might have seen the design before. Well, if you're sure you want to part with it..."

"But wait a minute," said Walf as they walked away. "What about me?"

"What about you?" said Logen, climbing the crowded stairs to the upper level.

"Well I understand that Jos will stay here. This is his home...my home, but what about me? Why can't I just take care of him?

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. Here, why don't we talk it over with him." Logen opened the door into the small, two person room, where Jos was laying on one of the cots.

"Is Alex back yet?" Jos moved as they entered the room.

"Not yet. He's still out asking questions about his friends. Besides, they wouldn't let Urgun inside."

"Have you made the arrangements for me?"

"Yes, but don't think I needed to. Walf says that he could take care of you himself."

Walf nodded. "Yes, why shouldn't I stay with you. This is my home too remember."

"Actually Walf, I thought about it and I think you should go with Alex and Logen. At least until they finnish the rebuilding of the city. You may be able to take care of me, but who would take care of you?"

"No, I have to stay! You have to let me! I don't want to run away anymore."

"What, run away?"

"I left home once looking for adventure and look what came of it. My parents died, Jos! And I should have been there. I should have-" Walf looked away, there was a crack in his voice.

"Oh, Walf," Jos sighed, putting an arm over the his shoulder. "It's not your fault. Walf, when I escaped the city, I came across your father's shop. It was destroyed. Collapsed on top of them. If you were there Walf, you would have been killed too."

"At least we would be together then!" Walf shouted. And he raced out the door and disappeared into the crowded tavern.
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Mon Nov 15, 2004 10:52 pm

Grid: I-9 – G-8
Location: countryside

Randolph drove his horse on at a fast trot. After staying in Orion for a week, resting up and helping where he could, he was ready to depart. Bersun had given him specific instructions on what to do and where to go. He would be in Falconis city inside of four days at this pace.

His route lead him though a small hamlet. It was a cold day, and everything here seemed cold and barren – even the looks on the people’s faces as they stared – even scowled at Randolph’s distinctive attire, clearly marking him as a black Falcon with the outstretched eagle that was on his tunic. It was ironic really – just three weeks ago he had been close to this spot, as an invader and an intruder.

The next day he was passing though Royal Knight territory after spending the night out side in a makeshift tent. On both sides of the road were fields of golden wheat, being cut down by diligent farmers and in some instances, Falcon soldiers helping out. The general attitude here was less cold than that he had experienced the day before, but more than once he received a stony glare from some bystander, pausing from their work. That night was better spent from the previous – this time he had ate a good dinner and slept on a warm bed in a roadside inn.

On the third day of his journey, Randolph was on the northern borders of Royal Knight land. He started to feel more exposed, even though he had been growing a beard and mustache for the past week. He feared that he would somehow be recognized, even though his mind told him the possibility of such an occurrence was virtually nil.

Late in the afternoon, the road went by a medium sized tower and attached to a gate. The two structures stood alone now, but before the war they had served as checkpoints from Royal Knight land to the domain of the Falcons. Now, however they stood as mere formalities, relics of an ancient border that had once stood for hundreds of years.

Randolph was waved through, and spent the evening in a bustling tavern. Here he did his best to be as reclusive as possible. A small company of soldiers had gone in, and when one of them stared intently at Randolph, he became worried, fearing that he was recognized. The footman just shook his head, as if he had experienced a déjà vu, and turned to his companions. After that fright, Randolph moved to a corner table, where the shadows from the flickering lights and candles seemed to group together in a black hole. Sipping his warmed beer, he watched the hours go by, immersed in his thoughts.
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Postby Daimyo » Tue Nov 16, 2004 1:42 am

J-10 Orion

THE early morning spilled its dew across the rye fields outside the Golden City's gates, as the swords had spilt blood there not long ago. Ghosts of war haunted the city as it still recovered. Buildings near the outer wall, some of them empty shells, became homes for the few remaining stragglers of the Bloodvaine army.
The Cavaliers of Constantius VII, resplendent in golden plate mail, purple tunics, and horsetail plumes, patrolled the safe areas of the city, not daring to intrude into the now abandoned and destitute outer limits. Tenacious Dragon Masters, called Mamelukes by the citygoers, occupied their ill-gotten and battle-scarred lands with brutal efficiency.
Searil Chordate leaned on the goldstone wall of a domed cantina, listening attentively for any information on the Dragon Master heretics. He heard the steel-shod hooves of a Cavalier steed settle on the cobblestone street, heard the lieutenant as he raised his visor to smell the air, perfumed by the Mediterranean breeze. He heard the leather-clad mercenary, band holding his thick brown hair, as he spoke.
"Grimmel. Back from the war at last?" the gruff voice said.
"They kept me at the Forestmen's camp for a few weeks after the battle," the Cavalier grumbled. "And a battle it was."
The Cavalier hummed as he unsheathed his sword, swung it with a heavy swoop as if splitting the skull of a Peregran* archer. "I tell you, have I never seen war as the likes of it, never since Castlemare have heard, nor witnessed, such carnage."
He held the sword defensively, looking it over as the samurai looks over his, a divine tool of murder.
"We met those Falcon megabloks on the plain... and I shall tell you, when the Bull chariots stormed the Falcon line, a sound as thunder hit the battlefield like the mallet on a drum, and then we Classics were upon them, slitting the Falcon's necks like they were sows."
The leathered man gasped in awe.
"The Talistrani island-men, borne from the tropics, rushed their crossbowmen to the line. The Champion named Quorandis, Chodan bless his name, ordered our charge. To the north, those bloody Dragons met the Dark Foresters. Never before have I seen such ferocity... these men are surely barbarians, they have the strength of five men each. I heard the cry of Loughton Line... and the rest, history tells."
Searil smiled at this remark. So bards sing of men for the blood they have spilled?
"Then, the battle disentegrated. No one could tell man from man, the chaos of the melee was unnerving. My sword must have cut down countless Falcon knights, and those winged beasts must have killed hundreds of Forestmen. Then it was over... for at least the north front. The end was signaled by those two colossal ships, those that sail the air, methinks. They blew up over the gate. We were still fighting, breaking into Falconis' royal guard. Then I saw it."
The Cavalier stopped, as if still amazed.
"A Falcon peasent, just a lad, took his sword, and with it, like some angel's blade, drove it through the helm of that beastly king. Falconis was dead!"
Searil chuckled. Tall tales.

*Peregran- Another name for a Falcon, derived from the provincial island capital of Peregrine.

I actually reread most of the battle to make this post.[/i]
"Alright Kif, let's show these freaks what a bloated, runaway military budget can do"
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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Wed Nov 17, 2004 1:12 am

The coronation was to be a most magnificent one. Nearly a week before, ribbons, decorations, and most importantly food had been gathered for the upcoming event. As was the tradition, the crowning would take place on the enormous front balcony at the old palace, which was now used for housing the numerous offices needed to run the country. The public was invited – a rare occasion for the doors into the palace grounds were usually opened only once a year during the spring festival.

It was now the middle of September and the last of the crops would be drawn in within the next two weeks. Alarmingly to some, a few trees were already turning color – a sure sign of a cold winter.

As a minor noble, Frederick was able to gain a seat at the balcony. Since Martin’s arrival, he had changed his mind about leaving. His speech the day before was good, but there was something – Frederick could not tell what, but something unusual about the way the general had carried himself.

Even though the coronation was to be held in the afternoon, the palace grounds were already packed with people. Right now, Frederick stood in the main hallway of the palace, conversing with some other young nobles. Their talk was tiresome though, filled with tidbits of gossip and generally useless information. At the first possible opportunity, Frederick detached himself, and wandered aimlessly around the building, exploring the confusing tangle of hallways and corridors that were mostly empty.

Things were going quite slow and he was just about to return to the main hallway when two men came out of a doorway. Spotting him, one of the men came forward. Frederick recognized him immediately. It was the Marquis de’ Durlass. Frederick struggled for something to say, but Durlass spoke first.

“Is that you Frederick? My, have you grown some since I have seen you last. Let’s see, that must have been nearly ten years ago!”
“Ye – yes”, Frederick stammered. “It is an honor to meet you sir.”
“Likewise, I know your father well. Tell me Frederick, how long have you been in town?”, Durlass started to turn and walk to the other man. Frederick did likewise, keeping at his side.
“Nearly a week. I was going to leave yesterday, but that speech and the show put on by Martin compelled me to stay a bit longer.”
“Really?” Durlass spoke with feigned astonishment. “There was nothing incredible or fantastic about Martin’s oratory. Tell me, what really kept you back?”
Frederick paused. They both had stopped and were with Duralass’ companion. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat uncomfortable as Durlass scanned him with his cold, dark eyes. “To be honest sir, it was the way he acted. Something just didn’t seem right the way he composed himself.”
Durlass looked at Frederick even harder, and the young man feared that he had said something wrong. Suddenly though, Durlass smiled.
“Why don’t you come with me. I have a proposition I would like to make to you.”
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

KP 2011!
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Nov 17, 2004 2:09 am

Grid: G-2
Location: Leidenheim

Jacques Broadside was free!!! He was quite pleased about that too, and was celebrating loudly in a seedy Leidenheim pub.

After dropping off his passengers, Broadside and the Bombardier had remained off the Royal Knight coast for a while, with the rest of the fleet.

Then the Black Falcons, who were occupying the Royal Knight territory FINALLY caught wind of the invading army. It was too late to stop Quorandis from getting to the Neverwood, of course, but they did get to see the fleet at the fishing village.

Saw it sailing away that is...

The fleet broke up. Jarvick's Dragon Master vessel had withdrawn southwards, to await his return. The Classics started towards Talistrand, but soon changed course for the mainland Empire. The Redscythe departed from parts unknown, and frankly, Broadside was glad to see it, and Jack Blackheart, go.

The Bombardier made for Leidenheim. It was the perfect port of call: large, suitably seedy, but not too much so, well-removed from war, well-removed from the Sorceror-king, and it was Crusader territory. It was good to be in his homeland, thought Broadside.

He was free. The Sorceror-king would let him go, he was sure. And if he did try and come, Broadside would run. He was not going back to that servitude if he could help it.

So it came as a very large shock to him, when sitting in the Pig's Wallow Inn, to hear a very familiar, cold voice in the back of his head.

-Broadside- it said. -Get back to Talistrand. Now-
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Wed Nov 17, 2004 8:04 pm

lemon_squeezer2 wrote:Randolph was waved through, and spent the evening in a bustling tavern. Here he did his best to be as reclusive as possible. A small company of soldiers had gone in, and when one of them stared intently at Randolph, he became worried, fearing that he was recognized. The footman just shook his head, as if he had experienced a déjà vu, and turned to his companions. After that fright, Randolph moved to a corner table, where the shadows from the flickering lights and candles seemed to group together in a black hole. Sipping his warmed beer, he watched the hours go by, immersed in his thoughts.


G-7
Entering Falconis City

Randolph weaved his way carefully through the streets of the mighty Black Falcon capital, ducking into corners and hollows at every turn so as not to be seen by too many guards. He reviewed the instructions Bersun had told him. Once past the main gate, turn immediately to your left until you pass the Skeeter Bird Tavern. Turn right, and you'll be in Right Wing Square. Go to Begger Street and continue for thirteen paces, where you'll find yourself in front of a run-down stable house. Enter, and let them take you captive freely. The mark on your arm will tell them all they need to know.

Randolph rubbed the temporary tattoo concealed by his jerkin uneasily. The mark would come off if plunged into any alchoholic beverage, but he still felt warey to committing himself to a group virtually unknown to him. However, Bersun had appeared to trust him after he explained his intensions, and trust was something hard to come by in Dametreos nowadays.

Randolph halted. He had arrived at the run down stable house. He glanced about, then entered quickly. Within an instant, he was thrown to the floor and a knife pressed into his back.

"Blaggard!" swore one voice.

"Gently, Gaffner." said a cool, calm voice, "Here what the man has to say..."

Speaking into the dusty floor, Randolph, his heart and head pounded, choked out, "Berson sent me, I wish to join you!"

Another person reached forward and tore back his sleeve, then examined the mark.

"Let him up, that's Berson's personal seal, if this man was able to decieve Bersun, he is a better man of deception than you, Vanderdious." said the calm voice, who obviously was in charge of operations.

"Right."

The knife retreated and the two men stood, pulling Randolph up as well. Randolph could now see the person with the calm voice was a simple-clad Black Falcon, someone who could have blended into the ranks if it had not been for the wrinkles of the many years that creased the clean-shaven face.

"I apologise for your rough treatment, sir." said the old man, "We rebels must take even precaution agaisnt discovery. Tell me, who are you?"

"My name is Randolph" Randolph said simply. He was not eager to give away information about himself yet.

The old man smiled. "Welcome, Randolph, to the Rebel Resistance Headquarters. I am the Lone Falcon."
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Wed Nov 17, 2004 8:25 pm

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:Bjarn shrugged. "What he has planned I know not, but I trust his word. Besides, it is nearly dark. Have the caravan set up camp and we'll continue on tomorrow, or when Bourne is ready."


J-8
Razed Forestmen Territory

It was midnight, and the moon shone bright. Unnoticed by all, Bourne the Earth Mage crept out of the caravan camp and crossed over the Forestmen/Classic LEGOland border. For half an hour he walked, his silent footsteps even more muffled by the sodden ash of what once had been the wide expance of forest that covered the Wolfpack, Dark Forest and Forestmen territories. At last Bourne stopped. He plunged his staff into the abused earth and stood stalk still, extending his sences in every direction; tasting, feeling, smelling, hearing, seeing the crippled expance. Deep down in the earth, where the breath of the god-dragon Eroth Gamus had not scorched, where tiny seedlings of grass and tree, bush and vine, flower and bramble lay, slowing reaching upward to reclaim the forest. Their quest was noble, but it would take them over a hundred years on their own to truely heal the forest. But they were not on their own. Bourne was there. Bourne would help them.

It will be never known what happened that night, while the caravan slept, while the rest of Dametreos recovered, all that was known was that when the Forestmen and Dark Foresters and Wolfpack members awoke in the morning, a mass of growth greeted them. Trees, thick and tall, had sprouted overnight, accompanied by flowers and shrubs. Vines creeped, grass grew, fern opened wide, welcoming the morning sun. Rivers flowed, and a multitude of animal life had returned, lured ack by some unknow force only generated by the powerfully supernatural. When Voolmark tested the Mana, he found it full and untapped. Something else, something much more powerful had revived the forest.

When the caravan discovered Bourne was missing, and intense search commenced. Expances of trees were scoured to no avail. Bourne has simply vanished, and no one else would ever see him in Dametreos again. He had done his part. The forests were healed. Slowly, Dametreos was returning to normal.
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