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Classic Castle Roleplay: November

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Postby forester3291 » Sun Nov 21, 2004 1:17 am

J-10

Location: The Capitol City

Green Knight wrote:Alex sighed. "Excuse me," said a voice from behind him. "I couldn't help overhearing. Did you say Aros?"

"Why yes," said Alex turning to look at the Bull knight behind him. "Do you... know him?"

"I think I do, or at least I can take you to someone who does. My name is Dodrot. I think you should come with me."





Alex followed Dordrot back to were he had just been. The official tried to stop Alex again but Dordrot quickly took care of him.

"Thanks again for helping me" Alex smiled "I don't know where I would have looked if you hadn't shown up."

"It's nothing lad, really.I am bored out'f me wits and I could use something to do. And finding Barbod for ya is an easy enough task for me. Tell me though. Why are you looking for Aros?"

"Oh... him and I go back a long while. I heard he had been here and thought I would find him, and say a quck hello. You know"

"Yes. I know all about friends. They come they go...some never come back, and then some do." Dordrot said drifting away. Suddenly he snapped out of it and stopped at a door. "Ahh, here we go lad. Barbod's quarters. He'll most likely know of were your friend is."

With that he opened the door and gave a greatting to a heavy set man that was twice Alex's size. He was even bigger than the massive Dordrot!

"Hello Barbod! I have a friend for yee. He says he's looking for Aros."
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Sun Nov 21, 2004 3:15 am

Commander Redbeard wrote:The Forestmen set aside their weapons and replaced them with goblets and platters in a heartfelt Thanksgiving for all that they had, for all that they lost, and for all of the good encompassed in their world.


J-8

Bjarn did not attend the celebration, for he was still too weak. His shoulder was throbbing, as was his legs. But what hurt the most was his hand. It did not throb with pain, it PULSED. With every heartbeat, pain lanced through his hand and up his arm...slicing a hot blade through his flesh. Bjarn gritted his teeth. He had come this far, back home to where he belonged. The pain would fade eventually. The disfigurement would not. Bjarn swigged a bottle of beer. He grimaced at the taste, and guitily restoppered the bottle. He knew he should not get into a habit of drink. I might end up like Fox Bjarn thought sadly. However the alchohol was the only thing that dulled the pain. Nothing Reno, Shainya, nor Jack could come up with would help.

"Hello Bjarn."

Bjarn jumped and turned to face the tall figure of Sir Dractor.

"Hello Sir Dractor. Not joining in the festivities?" asked Bjarn.

Sir Dractor shook his head. "No, I feel out of place. This the Forestdwellers celebration, not mine."

"Without you, there would be no Forestdwellers more likely than not." counterd Bjarn.

"Perhaps."

"You are worried." observed Bjarn.

"Not worried...comtemplative." corrected Sir Dractor.

"On what?"

"Many things. Regarding Elwen, and the Old Man, and the Sorceror King...and on Bourne." added the knight.

"Ah yes...Bourne." said Bjarn, "I have thought much on him. He will forever remembered for his final great deed."

"Final?" queried Sir Dractor.

Bjarn shrugged. "He could not be found by the entire Forestdweller population. The earth must have reclaimed him."

Sir Dractor shook his head. "Or he could have just left. There is more to the world than Dametreos. There is where I came from, to the north leagues over endless sea. And there is Ikros, to the east, past the Leo Ocean. Bourne was not native to Dametreos, perhaps he has just moved on."

Bjarn nodded. "You may be correct, Sir Dractor. Either way, Chodan bless him for his gift to us."
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Postby The Green Knight » Sun Nov 21, 2004 5:04 am

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:With introduction, Lord Void said, "Alright Caimlin, it is time you knew my affliction."


I-11
Dark Dragon's Den

Lord Void paused, waiting for a response. Caimlin was silent, ears open.

"It appears," Lord Void said, sighing. "That I've lost my connection to the mana force. I no longer have my magic powers." He paused again, but Caimlin was shocked speechless and said nothing.

"I don't even have enough magic in me to send a teleharm now. And believe me, I would have done so after the explosion, had I been able to."

"W-what?" said Caimlin stammering on shock. "H-how?"

"When the airships collided, it exposed the powerful magics inside them. You saw the results yourself Caimlin. Magic isn't meant to be pent up in small spaces and when it was released the results were catastrophic. All that power, trying to spread itself evenly over the mana field in a split second. It wiped me clean."

Caimlin's brow furrowed. "We can't tell the others. There would be a scandal. But you will find no challenger in me, my lord. I have no wish to lead this country and I will continue to serve you even as before."

"Thank you Caimlin. It does my spirit good to hear it."

Caimlin saluted and then... "Um... I hope you won't think it too bold of me my lord, but... How will we continue now that you've lost your power."

Lord Void paused before answering. "I am not sure, Caimlin. But perhaps... perhaps it is time for a change."

At that moment there was a flash of lightning and a cloud of steam in the center of the room. In a second it vanished, leaving behind it the figures of two men. The taller of these stepped forward.

"Lord Void, I need your help. Drock needs your help."
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





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Postby The Green Knight » Sun Nov 21, 2004 5:08 am

Grid: H-10
Location: The dungeons of the Neverwood castle.

Just then Gib's head hit a stone and he blanked out.


Gib awoke, finally with a pain in his head. "Ohhhhhhhh that smarts." The room was dark. Very dark. Groping for his pack, Gib fished out a small knife and his pouch of fire. With the knife he cut off a piece of his cloak and placing it on the end of his staff, he lit it on fire. The make-shift torch wouldn't last long, but it gave him enough time to thoroughly survey his surroundings. He was in the store room, that was good. The stairs were destroyed however, and that was bad.

"No getting back through there." Gib thought. "Oh well. There's more then one way out."

Moving into the next room, Gib found that he was wrong. The hole that was usually there in the ceiling had been covered as well. It was then that it occurred to him that he didn't know what had become of the strangers. The tower had collapsed. And Gib had never told them to seek shelter in the dungeon. The hermit hung his head.

"You tried Gib, but you didn't try hard enough."

It was then that he noticed a disturbance on the dusty floor of the dungeon. Footprints. Two sets. They were alive. Gib smiled and at that moment, his torch went out.

"Well nothing else to do but go on I suppose. Maybe there is another way out."

So Gib continued on in darkness, following the unsen tracks of those who had gone before him. It wasn't long before he came to a fork in the tunnel. The right fork, had he known it, would have eventually taken him up to the suffce. But Sadly for Gib, he chose the left fork and entered into a large maze of corridors and cells.

It was touch and go from then on. Gib walked like a blind man, feeling the way with his staff in front of him.

"Oh, a curse on this dungeon! There's not even two feet of stone between me and the surface and I'm still trapped down here!"

Just then Gib turned a corner and noticed a change in the shadows. Could it be... light? Gib ran ahead passing two sets of arches and then with another turn, saw what he was looking for. It was light, coming from a circular hole in the ceiling. Gib raced forward, throwing caution aside. But it was a bad decision, for in a moment, the ground dropped out from under him and he fell.

In retrospect, Gib realized that the opening he had been running towards was in reality, the castle well. This of course meant that the hole he was currently plummeting down through, was the same one he had drawn water from for the last 37 years.

However, Gib hadn't arrived at this conclusion yet. And indeed he didn't care for he was still mid-dissent and in the grip of the sudden shock. In another second Gib hit the water.

The noise of the splash echoed throughout the dungeon.

"What was that?" Elwen asked.

"I don't know." Jayko responded. "But we better keep going. I think I see light ahead."
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





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Postby The Green Knight » Sun Nov 21, 2004 5:16 am

I-11
Dark Dragon's Den

"Lord Void, I need your help. Drock needs your help."

"Jarvick," Lord Void said, surprised. "What are you doing here? What do you mean -help?"

"Drock isn't dead, my lord. What do you know about the spell of Nugaia?"

"What!" said Caimlin in alarm. "But the fortress exploded. Drock couldn't have survived that."

"The spell of Nugaia." Lord Void repeated. "You don't mean he actually used it?"

"Used what?" Caimlin was confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Yes." Jarvick responded to Lord Void. "He used it." And stepping aside, he reviled the man behind him. It was Drock, or rather it had been Drock. Now it was nothing more then a life size replica of him. A stone replica, detailed down to the individual hairs on his head.

Lord Void and Caimlin starred in total shock for a full minute. Jarvick let them until finally Lord Void broke the silence.

"I can't believe he did it. Did he know what he was doing?"

"Yes, I believe he did. I told him about it once, long ago."

"Excuse me," said Caimlin "But what on earth are you talking about? And... and why is Drock?... Is that Drock?..."

Jarvick and Lord Void exchanged looks.

"The Nugaia spell" said Jarvick slowly, "Is an ancient and powerful spell, that when spoken turns the speaker into stone. Making him tottaly invincible, but also trapping him in that state forever. Drock used it to protect himself when BloodVaine destroyed the Fire Breathing Fortress."

"Wait a minute," said Caimlin "I don't understand. Why couldn't he just have teleported away?"

"Do not display your ignorance, Caimlin." Lord Void was speaking now. "You don't just teleport during a wizard battle. The chaotic barrage of magical energies involved would tear you apart. Look at what happened to me."

"But BloodVaine escaped." Caimlin argued.

Lord Void frowned. "BloodVaine was no ordinary wizard. I still can hardly believe he's dead. So what do you mean Jarvick, when you ask me for help? I sympathize with you in your loss, but I fail to see what I can do..."

"The conter spell." Jarvick said. "I need the Nugaia counter spell. Drock isn't dead. Not yet and not for long."

"Jarvick," said Lord Void slowly. "There is no counter spell. Only rumors. Only myths."

"But what if it there is? I- I can't give up looking before I've tried. Look Void, I'm asking you as a friend. Will you help me?"

The Dragon Master king sighed as he considered Jarvick's request. It wasn't long before he answered.
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





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Postby Commander Redbeard » Sun Nov 21, 2004 10:15 pm

quote="Commander Redbeard"]The Forestmen set aside their weapons and replaced them with goblets and platters in a heartfelt Thanksgiving for all that they had, for all that they lost, and for all of the good encompassed in their world.[/quote]

J-8

The Forestman territory

The feast lasted forr a day and a night. When the festivities at last died down, the army of Forestmen split up into their respective groups and returned to the remains of their homes. Anardan and Elacil, with the rest of their group of a score or so, regrouped at the ruins of their outpost, a stone-and-wood affair, all scorched to the ground except the blackened stone walls.

"Still something left, at least;" Anardan mutters as he walks through the familiar rooms and passages, now covered with several inches of ash and soot, pieces of charred wood prortuding from the rubble.
"We'll have alot of hard work to do. But we're still weary, and we are likely to be for a while. But work first, rest later."

The forestmen worked for hours, clearing out the rubble of charred wood and stone, clearing the passages and chambers, many open to the sky with the oak roof beams charred and broken. The tent canvasses were pitched against the stone walls, and the Forestman patrol rested.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Mon Nov 22, 2004 6:40 pm

The Green Knight wrote:"Jarvick," said Lord Void slowly. "There is no counter spell. Only rumors. Only myths."

I-11
Dark Dragons Den, Master Breeder's Quarters

"But what if it there is? I- I can't give up looking before I've tried. Look Void, I'm asking you as a friend. Will you help me?"

The Dragon Master king sighed as he considered Jarvick's request. It wasn't long before he answered.


"Jarvick," Lord Void began, "Why do you ask me of this? You were the first one to know of my...loss of power."

Jarvick flinched. "Alas, my Lord, I could not believe it. I had hoped..."

"Hope is worthless." said Lord Void brutally, "Hope can get us nowhere. Of the three most powerful Dragon Master wizards, two are crippled. Jarvick, I wish I could help you, but I can't. Not now."

"Wait," said Caimlin, "Jarvick still has his power, right?"

"Yes," Jarvick sighed, "But I am not nearly powerful enough to preform the counter spell, if there is one."

"Listen, I think we can all help each other," said Caimlin quietly, ideas spinned through his brain, "Lord Void needs someone to cover for him and make as if Lord Void still has his power. Jarvick needs a counter spell found for his brother. If Jarvick follows Lord Void around like his shadow as works some magic while some troops are watching, the common Dragon Masters will believe it is Lord Void who is performing the magic, and they will remain loyal."

Lord Void's eyes glinted. "An excellent idea, Caimlin. While Jarvick ruses the common folk into believing I still have power, I can research into the Nugaia spell, and see if a counter-spell is possible."

"What about my province I govern?" asked Jarvick, "Those Dragon Masters are still in the dark on the outcome of Final Battle."

"I could go there..." said Caimlin slowly, "With a signed form stating you, Jarvick, have given me temporary power to govern them until you return."

All three men nodded. "Does everyone agree to these arrangements?" confirmed Lord Void. Jarvick and Caimlin nodded.

"Very well, I will arrange things immediately." said Lord Void, "Jarvick, how do you plan on accompanying me unobtrusively all the time?"

"A simple vanishing spell." shrugged Jarvick, "Let the Mainland Dragon Masters believe I've returned to Dragon Isle and Caimlin is off somewhere repairing relations with the Crusaders or something. Communication between mainland and island is sparse at the most, I don't think anyone would be the wiser."

"Very good. Have us connected by a teleharm at all times so you know which spell I want preformed. I might not be able to teleharm someone, but any mortal can return a teleharm."

More plans were made as when Caimlin was to leave for Dragon Isle and Jarvick wrote up and signed a notice giving Caimlin full authority. After a few smaller matter were cleared up Lord Void closed the discussion with,

"Remember, gentlemen, if we fail at this ruse, all three of use will most likely perish by the hand of the angry mass populace, not to mention Drock will remain stoned forever. If such an event occurs, the Dragon Masters will erupt into civil war, and all the alliances made during the BloodVaine Epic will crumble. If will stumble, the Dragon Masters will return to the old ways, and Dametreos will be that much less safer. Come, we have work to do."
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Mon Nov 22, 2004 8:20 pm

Commander Redbeard wrote:The feast lasted forr a day and a night. When the festivities at last died down, the army of Forestmen split up into their respective groups and returned to the remains of their homes.


M-8
Drullen Bell Keep

Bjarn was home at last. When his cart had drawn him within sight, he joined in with the whooping and cries of joy the Forestmen expelled even though it pained him greatly to do so. The anchient Forestmen fortress had stood, surviving the mighty wildfire only by the will of the Forestmen populace. Now it stood tall and proud, but empty. The emptyness was soon changed when all of the Forestdwellers, including the Wolfpack and Dark Foresters, packed inside to clear away the damage and restart their lives. The Dark Forest and Wolfpack soldiers would stay the night at Drullen Bell, then they would continue north to their own homes.

The feasting and celebration already done the night before, this day was dedicated to clean up and repair. Charred timbers were replaces, floors were swept, and the reconstruction of the Drullen Bell Council Dome commenced. Lumberjacks were sent into the reborn forest to harvest wood so that flatboats could be constructed to contact the large amount of old persons, women and children still hiding out on Fell Isle.

In all the bustle and hustle, Bjarn was in his old chamber not resting nor sleeping, but conversing animatially with King Radjar Kath of the Dark Forest and Lord Willem Blackcloak of the Wolfpack. The matter of food was first and foremost.

"This will be a harsh winter, no doubt of that." grimaced Radjar, "The temprature's already dropping and so are the leaves."

"Fell Isle doesn't have nearly enough food to supply the Mainland." sighed Bjarn, "They will be struggling enough as it is."

"What options do we have?" queried Willem.

"Only one," said Bjarn firmly, "Trade with the Crusaders, is is our only chance of survival."

"The Forestdwellers and Crusaders have been at odd for years!" scoffed Radjar.

"BloodVaine has changed that," replied Bjarn, "The Crusaders suffered the most civilian loss at the hands of BloodVaine. The city of Port Ardologue was obliterated and it's population slaughtered, and several other cities met lesser, but no more grusome, fates. Plus the entire Crusader fleet was destroyed. The Crusaders have and excess of food, and we have the wood needed for them to rebuild thier towns and ships. I am certain a deal can be arranged."

Both Radjar and Willem nodded. "Excellent." agreed Willem, "In exchange for patrolling the Black Falcon borders, Bjarn, would you provide the Wolfpack with adquate carpenters and lumberjacks to repair Wolfpack structures. The Wolfpack have never been particually gifted into craftmanship."

Bjarn nodded, "Of course, Willem, my friend. Do you have requests Radjar?"

Radjar nodded, "If you could lend two or three flatboats, I would be much obliged. I wish to send some of my men up and down the Hemlock River and Grurrulugurul Creek to check on ports and to see if river has changes features, such as sprouting a new tributary or creating another cataract. The sooner the Hemlock is cleared for passage, the sooner goods and people can traverse it again and life can return to normal."

"Very good." agreed Bjarn. He paused, then he eyed Radjar, his eyes gleaming. "Do you know of Rosa's plans?"

Radjar just might have blushed, neither Bjarn nor Willem were sure. "She...says she'll be coming with me.." Radjar said.

Bjarn grinned, then winced as the pain got to him. "Very good, that will be one less person I'll have to worry about here at Drullen Bell. In fact, I'm thinking of sending young Reno along with Shainya and Aros as bringers of peace and possible trade to the Crusaders."

Willem almost, but not quite, snickered. "Bjarn you old matchmaker!"

Bjarn smiled, "I had nothing to do with their pairing, they found it themselves."

"True, very true..." smiled Willem.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Mon Nov 22, 2004 8:42 pm

The Green Knight wrote:Walf hurled the rusty saber into a near by alley and started running again. He knew that Dale could follow him but he didn't think it likely. The sight of a sword floating down the street would draw too much attention. Still, Dale had more to say before Walf was out of ear shot and the voice returned once more before fading out.

"Come back Walf. You need to talk."

But Walf didn't stop. Not until he reached the pile of rubble that was once his home.


J-10

Dale, encased in Reno's sword, did not bother to follow the greif-stricken Walf. Instead he let the sword tumble to the ground and into the gutter. Dale remained there for hours, brooding, emotions washing through him like a flood. First anger, then remorse, then deep sadness filled him. He pitied the boy Walf, the hopeful, dreamy boy who was so much Dale when he had been at the fresh, care-free age of twelve. Walf was almost a mirror-image of Dale, up to the fact that both of their parents had been killed when they were young. Dale turned his pity from Walf to himself. His parents' deaths were the reason he had turned to pacifism. He had turned agaisnt all violence, and what had that got him? Eternal agony, encased inside a sword forever, forced to know that Shainya would...

Dale's thoughts were interrupted. A street urchin, probally and orphan like Walf, wandered up and eyed the sword.

"A pretty thing..." said the girl, "Sommant might gives bread for it..."

She picked it up scurried off. Little did she know who rested inside.
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Postby Commander Redbeard » Mon Nov 22, 2004 9:29 pm

Lord_Of_The_Lego wrote:"Only one," said Bjarn firmly, "Trade with the Crusaders, is is our only chance of survival."


J-8

Forestman Outpost

Several days later, the word came by a swift Forestman runner about the trading party being dispatched to the Crusaders. All of the Forestman bands were sending several yeomen as representitives to ensure that their bands of Forestmen got enough food for the winter. Anardan and Elacil worked hard with their band to harvest several cords of lumber to be taken for trade, and the final product was loaded onto a pair of wagons.

"I'll take two with me to Drullen Bell keep to meet up with the rest of the trading party, and we'll head for Crusader territory after our representitives return from their barganing;"
Anardan says to Elacil. "You'll stay here with the men and supervise the repair of the outpost, we need to fix it before winter hits."

Anardan and two Forestmen brought their wood to Drullen Bell Keep, where the other Forestman bands were accumulating their stock of timber for transportation to the Crusader cities, as soon as the advance scouts returned.
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Postby Formendacil » Mon Nov 22, 2004 9:56 pm

Grid: H-10
Location: The dungeons of the Neverwood castle.

The Green Knight wrote:The noise of the splash echoed throughout the dungeon.

"What was that?" Elwen asked.

"I don't know." Jayko responded. "But we better keep going. I think I see light ahead."


Elwen and Jayko found the source of the light. It was a hole in the dungeon wall. The hole did not open into another room, but into a narrow black chasm.

The chasm was about five feet in diameter, and more or less close to being perfectly round. The light was coming in from above, and an ancient chain hung limply from above, dangling much farther down into the darkness.

"A well," said Elwen. "How far up does it go?" Jayko very carefully looked leaned into the well, and looked up.

"Maybe fifteen feet," he said. "The top looks a slightly blocked."

"We could climb out on the chain," said Elwen.

"And if we fall, that's it," said Jayko, looking uncomfortably downwards.

"Unless you can find another way out, let's do this," said Elwen. "I'm ready to leave."

Jayko swallowed, terrified, but grabbed the chain, and tugged hard on it. Seeing that it would hold his wait, he slowly stepped off the ground, and into the well.

Hand over hand he climbed upwards. Then he reached the top, and found the way blocked by a large piece of masonry. It didn't completely cover the hole in the floor, because the light was able to seep in, but it was too small to let a man through.

Clutching the chain with his left hand, Jayko shoved at the boulder. It moved slightly. After pushing and prodding and sweating a great deal, Jayko made an entrance large enough for him to get through.

"Okay," he called to Elwen, "grab the chain."
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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Mon Nov 22, 2004 11:19 pm

The expectant crowd cheered as the group of twenty or so higher nobles walked out onto the large balcony. They then took their seats that were neatly arranged in a semi-circle facing a pedestal in the forward center, with an leading from the door to the platform dividing them. When Martin took his seat on the first row to the right the applause grew to a fevered pitch. After the noise had died down, Durlass walked solemnly through the doorway. His dress was extravagant and nearly regal and in his hands he held the royal crown.

The headpiece was simple, consisting of a thin gold band set with an intricately designed falcon in the front, clutching a sapphire and a diamond in its two claws, a reminder of the days when it was forged – when the Falcons were still struggling for survival from the Crusaders. Those glorious stoic days were long over now. The Black Falcons were now a powerful and prideful people, ironically as the Crusaders once were. If history really did repeat itself, the Falcon Empire would crumble until it would become just a shadow of its former self.

Coming to the edge of the stone railing, Durlass lifted the crown up.

“Today comrades, a king shall be made! Who here objects?”

The people were silent. The words Durlass spoke were now just a formality, a worn tradition carried down through the generations. Once before, nearly two hundred years ago in fact, there was an objection – several hundred in fact. A civil war had nearly broken out and in the end the royal family had either been all assassinated or exiled. That led to rise of the current dynasty – the Hohenzollern family, though they had kept with the honorary title of Falconis.

Durlass then turned and the prince walked down the short aisle. The young boy did not seem afraid but inside he was about to faint. The sight of so many expectant people who now looked to him as their ruler made his head spin. Still, he kept control of himself and stopped in front of the Marquis who spoke again.

“I declare you Falconis XXIX. May you rule wisely and be blessed by many long and prosperous years.”

Inwardly the noble snickered. It would be him that would be ruling. He dared not break the traditional ceremony though. Raising the crown up high, he placed it upon the boy’s head and stepped aside to the left. The newly crowned king then stepped onto the platform and waved as the crowd broke out once more into what seemed like a perpetual applause.

Hindrich groaned silently as he continued to wave. He knew that it was Durlass who would be in charge and he could really care less. He did know that he would have to continue shaking hands, receiving dignitaries and making toast for the rest of the night though. Being king was such a tiresome business.
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Postby Formendacil » Tue Nov 23, 2004 3:51 am

Grid: G-2
Location: Leidenheim

Formendacil wrote: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-


"What...." said Broadside out loud.

-Broadside- repeated the Sorceror-king's voice, irritated, inside the privateer's head.

-What do want?- asked Broadside, wisely thinking the thought instead of speaking it.

-Precisely what I said. Return to Talistrand. Now-

-What if I don't?- asked Broadside.

-I'll kill you-

-Do you know where I am?-

-In a tavern, you idiot. Where else would you be?- snapped the Sorceror-king's mind.

-But in which city?-

The Sorceror-king did not reply immediately. He was trying to pick Broadside's thoughts, but he was too far away.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Tue Nov 23, 2004 8:05 pm

Commander Redbeard wrote:Anardan and two Forestmen brought their wood to Drullen Bell Keep, where the other Forestman bands were accumulating their stock of timber for transportation to the Crusader cities, as soon as the advance scouts returned.


M-8
Just outside Drullen Bell Keep

Reno held up a scroll and scratched away with ink and quill, recording the cords of sawed and bound lumber prepared by groups of Forestmen. Aros was off finding the last minute lumberjacks, and Shainya was gathering final orders from Bjarn. Reno was interrupted from his notekeeping when someone approached and said respectfully, "Sir?"

Reno looked up and smiled. "Greetings, are you a leader from one of the timber harvesting parties?"

"Indeed, sir, my is Anardan, leader of group number 18. We have sixty-two cords of wood prepared and ready to be loaded onto the wagons."

"Very good. Will you be coming along with us to Farburg and Port Crowne?"

"Yes sir."

"Very good, carry on."

Anardan nodded and left to watch over the loading of his wood. Reno returned to his parchment and scribbled some more until Shainya approached. He smiled warmly at her, and she smiled back and pecked him on the cheek.

"Are the accounts in order, Reno?" she queried.

"As best as I can figure." replied Reno, "What did Bjarn say?"

She smiled and shrugged, "Just to be fair and polite, but don't take no for an answer, which he says is very unlikely. He also said to be safe and to hurry home so we can finish patching him up."

She giggled and Reno grinned back. "Bjarn is a tough old elk...Jack will know what to do."

Aros approached and informed them both, "Ok, you two lovebirds, time to hit the road. Group 21 just reported with fifty-five cords of wood, so we can head out now."

Reno nodded. "Right."

After saying their farewells to Willem and Graygon, who were also leaving to return home with the other Wolfpack soldiers, and to Radjar and Rosa, who were returning to the Hemlock Stronghold, the band of Forestmen wagons began to trundle southward with Reno, Shainya and Aros at the lead, starting the first steps to unity between the Forestdwellers and Crusaders.
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Postby Commander Redbeard » Tue Nov 23, 2004 9:35 pm

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:After saying their farewells to Willem and Graygon, who were also leaving to return home with the other Wolfpack soldiers, and to Radjar and Rosa, who were returning to the Hemlock Stronghold, the band of Forestmen wagons began to trundle southward with Reno, Shainya and Aros at the lead, starting the first steps to unity between the Forestdwellers and Crusaders.


J-9 (at last!)

Forestman trading party

Anardan walked up to the side of their wagons of wood and walks alongside them as the party moves out. It was a gruelling several hour hike in a mist of rain before the caravan reached the border of the Crusader lands. As the party approached, out of the mist loomed a ramshackle building alongside the path. It was a small guard-tower, hastily constructed of blackened stone blocks and timber salvaged from what looked like a charred ship's hull. Before the Forestmen could ponder it further, a voice hailed them:

"Who trespasses on Crusader lands?"

An arrow thuds into the ground in front of of the lead Forestmen. A gate in the tower was flung open and half a score of assorted Crusader soldiers exited. Many had great rents and scrapes in their breastplates and shields, as though they had been salvaged from a battlefield. Another figure, dressed in a breastplate still bearing the Crusader emblem and a knee-lengh black cloak, similarly embroidered, stepped forward. His hand was on his swordhilt.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

Both Anardan and Reno stepped forward. They looked at each other for several moments, then Anardan spoke.

"My name is Anardan, a Forestmen captain. We come in peace, we wish to trade with you our supplies of good lumber for surplus food. Your hospitality has declined of late, My Lord! We are friends, not enemies!"

"I am sorry, my Brother;" the Crusader Captain replied; "The times are dark of late. As you know, our wars have weakened us, and we have no supplies. Falcon raiding parties have paid visits to us on occasion, we do not know if they act under orders or are just rogues. We cannot survive a full-scale attack by even the weakest faction in our current state. My name is Haribier, Captain of this outpost. My apologies, Captain Anardan. Your trade will be welcome here. I'll send one of mine with you as a guide."

The Crusader soldiers stood aside and let the Forestmen pass, relaxing the grip on their battle-axes. As the Caravan continued on into the mist, a burly Crudader scout holding a spear loosely in his hands fell into the first rank.
Sitting in a midnight glade
Firelight dancing off burnished blade
A Forestman sits
Wondering about the next day
But after three mugs of ale
Let it bring what it may.
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