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Classic-Castle Roleplay: December

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Classic-Castle Roleplay: December

Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Sat Dec 04, 2004 7:31 pm

Greetings Roleplayers!

Additions to the CCRP should be posted here. Questions or commments regarding the continuing epic should be posted in this thread.

Let the adventure continue!
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Sat Dec 04, 2004 9:57 pm

The Green Knight wrote:The to men nodded and without a word, left the room. Lord Void sighed as he watched them go. "So it begins." Finally, pushing aside his worries, Lord Void got down to business. His job was to research the Nugaia spell. Not an easy task since his entire library had gone up in smoke at the Fire Breathing Fortress. Still, Lord Void hadn't kept all of his magic books at the fortress. No, he wasn't that daft. There were other vaults of knowledge in his kingdom and he was certain that among them could be found, the information required.

For you see, if he couldn't find it, then it didn't exist.


Grid: G-7
Location: Approaching Majisto's workshop

Lord Void, a pack slung uncharacteristically over one shoulder, walked briskly up the gravel path that travered the rounded hill on which a peak-roofed, ramshackle building sat. The building had once been occupied by Majisto, Lord Void's personaly wizard aid, before the unfortunate blue-robed wizard had gotten himself incinerated. Now the workshop was empty of persons and was dusty, used only as a glorified shed to hold magical items of all sorts.

Lord Void stopped at the large oaken door, drew out a key from the folds of his black robes and inserted it into the large lock. The key turned and the lock fell away, allowing the door to swing inward. Lord Void stepped in and was proceeding to shut it when and annoyed grunt exploded from the doorway.

"Oh, pardon..." murmured Lord Void, pulling back the door and leaving it open for several seconds. Then he shut it carefully and slid three bolts into place, resecuring the door.

"You can reveal yourself now, Jarvick, no prying eyes will see you here." commented Lord Void to the thin air as he undid he pack and placed it on a laden table.

There was another grunt, and suddenly Jarvick's appeared near the door, rubbing his nose.

"You need to work on your timing, Lord." he muttered, "I can't slip through every doorway quick as a rabbit."

"This has been the first time I've had a walking, talking shadow that has substance and cannot walk through solid objects." commented Lord Void idly, shifting some objects to new locations, "You will have to be forgiving while I adapt."

Jarvick shrugged and glanced warily at the three bolts on the door. "Do you think that will keep everyone out?"

"This place is protected by more than keys and locks, Jarvick, as you should well know. Now, light the fire, and don't worry, no smoke shall betray our presence." ordered Lord Void, now climbing up a thin wooden ladder to access several dusty volumes stowed away on a high shelf.

Jarvick turned to the blacken fireplace and with a flick, lit some logs already in the grate. Lord Void, laboring under a book of epic proportions, retreated down the ladder and slammed the book on to the table, cause dust to rise up like awakened spirits and small, metalic objects to jump. Lord Void pulled up a stool, opened to the first wrinkled page, set his monicle into place, and began to examine the first sentance. It was fifteen minutes before he turned the page.

"Anything I can do to aid?" queried Jarvick, who was finished exploring the derelic workshop.

"Unless you can read the anchiet gobin runes set down by the near-illiterate scribe Gfrdrgn, son of Gfrngge, son of Gfrddfng, son of Gfrsfnndk in 1486, I suggest you pick up that scroll and try your luck with Second Age Elvish." replied Lord Void tartly, now making notes with a quill.

Jarvick picked up the scroll and stared at it for a few minutes before saying, "This isn't Second Age Elvish, this is Olde Gnome of the Eighth Era."

Lord Void peered at Jarvick and said, "Well, what ever it's written it, either translate it or find something else to read."

It was soon discovered that Majisto's library of tomes, scrolls, books, and parchment consisted of almost everyone spoken and written language ever used in Dametreos and beyond, only some of which Jarvick knew. Lord Void was only on the thirty-first page of the goblin book when night fell outside. Lord Void pushed himself away from the table as Jarvivk spitted two thrushes and began to roast them in the ever-burning fire.

"I dispise goblin-speak." snarled Lord Void, taking out his monicle and rubbing his eyes, "Each family has their own tongue, and each successive generation edits and changes words at will. The Grf family is almost near-impossible to translate; the word 'vrynkdf' could be 'pickaxe', 'beer', 'toad' or a very nasty swear word, depending on the context."

"What does this have to do with my brother and the Nugaia spell?" asked Jarvick.

Lord Void stood and streched, saying, "The goblin race is an ancient one, one of the orginal races to inhabit Dametreos. The moutains are their bones, the dirt their blood. They were the first true miners, before even trolls and dwarves. They were also deeply immersed in magic. They knew the raw Mana, and control it at will; they were unhindered by spells and jinxs and the such. If anyone knew a counterspell to the Nugaia, it would be them."

"So did you find anything?" queried Jarvick, rotating the crackling thrushes.

"Nothing." Lord Void's shoulders sagged, "But did we really expect to find anything in the first day?"

Jarvick shook his head sadly, remembering the stone figure of Drock they had left behind at the Dark Dragon's Den. They had planned to take him along, but Jarvick was drained enough to maintain his invisiblity spell, teleporting himself and Lord Void, and to maintain teleharm contact. Drock had remained hidden in a secret chamber Jarvick had created, to be recovered when the counterspell was found or....

"This will be a task that will take all winter, if not longer." said Jarvick.

"True. But it will not be the only thing we will have to do. Before the snows really set in I need to promote some Dragon Masters to obey me and begin rebuilding in my absence. I promised that hermit Gib that the Neverwood will not be harvested from again, but I am afraid I will have to break that promise. The Dragons Masters will need much wood to rebuild and to heat them through the winter months, and the Neverwood is rightfully our domain anyway, at least particially. In the late spring and summer, rebuilding of the Fire Breathing Fortress will commence. However when everything has been settled for the winter, we will devote our days and nights to finding a counterspell for Drock. It is the least we can do to honor him."

Lord Void paused, then said, a glint in his eye, "In addition, I might discover a cure for my lack of magic."
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Postby Barbapple » Sun Dec 05, 2004 4:07 pm

G7

Barbod was bored. He had been for some time. So he made a decision. The next morning, they would not find him in his chambers. Insted they would find a note. And this is what it would read:

I've left the protection that has so kindly been provided for me, and I thank you for the time I've spent here. But I am now leaving. I ask that every bull soldier stay here untill the time of my return. I've lost sight of something. If I need to be found, I've circled my location on the map, lying on my bed. Once again, no bulls are to leave this keep. I hope to return soon.

The location he had circled was J-6. The Black falcons fortress.
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Postby forester3291 » Sun Dec 05, 2004 8:10 pm

Barbapple wrote:G7

Barbod was bored. He had been for some time. So he made a decision. The next morning, they would not find him in his chambers. Insted they would find a note. And this is what it would read:

I've left the protection that has so kindly been provided for me, and I thank you for the time I've spent here. But I am now leaving. I ask that every bull soldier stay here untill the time of my return. I've lost sight of something. If I need to be found, I've circled my location on the map, lying on my bed. Once again, no bulls are to leave this keep. I hope to return soon.

The location he had circled was J-6. The Black falcons fortress.



Grid: J-10

Location: Yellow Castle.

Dordrot was the first to find the note. When he read it he scrambled for the map, wondering what had gotten into Barbod. He saw the location circled...

The Falcons Fortress? What is he doing going there. Well I'm not waiting around here to find out, That's for sure! He burst out the door and into his chambers down the hall. He grabbed some clothes and stuffed them in a sack. He then put on a stout leather jerken , and chainmail over that. He grabbed his Axe and his shield and then nearly ran into one of the Classic Legolander servants. He quickly excused himself and ran out the huge yellow doors to find Barbod. He had left him once before, he wasn't going to let his friend go again, no, not this time.......
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Postby forester3291 » Mon Dec 06, 2004 12:53 pm

Forester wrote:
" Yes! Can't you get that through your thick skulls?!?!"

With that Fraun stormed off leaving five peopel behind. Only one knowing the reason for his behavior.




Now that they were home and Fraun had cooled off some Reno( even though he didn't know Fraun well) found Fraun and struck up a conversation with him.

"We never really got to know eatchother that well, considering the war and all. We both know Bjarn so I thought we should get better acquainted."

"Yeah, we never did get to talk much did we." Fraun said somewhat depressingly. "Listen, I'm sorry for the other night. I didn't mean to snap at you guys like I did."

"There's no need to be sorry. Everyone snaps at some point in their lives." Reno smiled, "Even I have."

Fraun gave a short smile.

"Mind telling me what that was all about? You storming off that night that is. Why did you do that?" Reno said cautiously, he didn't want to pry.

"Well you see it all happened when..........."
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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Mon Dec 06, 2004 4:53 pm

The events of the previous night weighed heavily on Durlass. The situation the Falcons were in was graver than he had expected. It all made sense really. If a nation was looked down upon by the Legolanders, any other faction would have little to do with the condemned group.

Durlass was really quite a peculiar man. He had been brought up by parents who spoiled him, allowing him to do anything he pleased. However, he was far from spoiled. Neglected by his parents in this ironic fashion, he had made his own man. He was highly competitive, and would do anything in his power to attain any position or item he wanted. In that respect, he was very self-serving. Now that he was at the pinnacle of his career, he found that he really did not know what to do. It had taken him some 35 years to get where he was now and he could go no higher.

He had to practically run a whole nation now, and he felt quite nearly split in half. On one hand, his ardent loyalty to the Falcon state was urging him to do what was right. That is, he wanted to serve his country, but the realization that he was the state conflicted with that view.

Being the man he was, Durlass had little concern whether what he did was right or wrong. In the end, he wanted to keep his position and he would fight tooth and nail to keep it against threats such as Martin. Then there was the general populace. In times like these when Falcon ships were regularly being sent back, their wares unsold, Durlass had to mend relationships with other countries.

At that time the noble was sitting in a chair in his office, reflecting on his course of action. Papers were strewn around his desk, mainly reports on the dozens of ships whose cargos lay rotting in their holds. Things had reached a breaking point. Durlass had to act. Snapping his eyes open he pulled a small lever that lay on his workspace. In the hallway beyond his closed door, the faint tinkle of a bell could be heard. A few short seconds later, a servant entered.

Durlass spoke. “Get me Karl Hertzog – immediately. Also, schedule an appointment with Leopold Stoph later this afternoon.”
The man bowed his head and left. Ten minutes later, the door opened and a tall figure entered the room. He carefully shut the thick oaken door and turned to Dulass. Looking up, Durlass motioned for him to sit down.
“I’m glad you’ve come on such short notice Karl. I need you to depart for Orion immediately.”
Karl’s thin nose wrinkled somewhat. “Orion? Why there?”
“I am appointing you as the Falcon ambassador there. We must do all we can to repair our relationships with other nations. Quite honestly, I believe another “allied army would try to attack if winter were not fast approaching.” Reaching over to a stack of papers Durlass pulled out two sealed envelopes. “The first letter here is a message from me directly to the new Legolander emperor. The second are your specific orders and what you may or may not do to negotiate a formal peace. Try to be brunt, but not too much. Both of our nations are in a tedious position. Though our army is taxed, we still have the strength to make a strong point. The Legolander army is still weak and unorganized. On the flip side we are at their mercy for a quick and easy peace that will aid our economy. You will find more specific guidelines in your orders.”
“I will need a day to prepare myself sir.”
“That is understandable. But leave as soon as possible”

Karl got up from the chair and started to leave. Before he left, he turned and spoke once more. “What if a peace cannot be arranged?”

“There will be peace. At any cost whether it is to us or to them. Do not fail me Karl.”
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

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Postby Commander Redbeard » Mon Dec 06, 2004 10:32 pm

Anardan had brought his share of the trading goods from the Crusaders back to his outpost, Anardan shared with Elacil the news he had picked up from the Scouts he'd met at Drullen Bell Keep.

"Interesting;" Elacil mused. "The Ninjas must be up to something more than meets the eye."
"Indeed," said Anardan; "They are a strange faction. Very secretive."

Many rumors were circulating in an undercurrent among the thirty-odd Forestmen as they put the finishing touches to the repairs of their outpost. Some were outright stupid, but others seemed very close to what Anardan had heard from the scouts. Every so often a Scout would ride up to spend the night out of the cold with them after returning from some errand in a far land, and their news was not reassuring. As the days passed, the tension grew steadily as each rumor mixed into a rapid crescendo of fact and fiction. Then it happened.

One night, Anardan and Elacil were huddled around the fire in the Outpost's main chamber with about a score of others, some telling stories, sipping hot drinks, or huddling under woolen blankets and talking among themselves. The wind howeled over the wooden roof, sending stinging particles of snow whizzing through the air. There was about six inches of snow, with even more piled in drifts against the tree trunks. Anardan was sipping a mug of hot broth while reading a book, one of the few things he had purchased for himself from the Crusaders, when he heard something out in the storm. He put down his book and stood up.

"Do you hear that?"

Elacil jerked out of a light doze, sending his mug of tea spilling onto the floor.

"Whuzzat? It's just the wind."

He mopped up the spill with a piece of cloth and settled back down. Anardan went out into the darkened hallway, and the sudden assault of the freezing air sent a shiver down his spine. A single walltorch sputtered forelornly in it's rusty bracket, sending eerie shadows dancing on the stone wall, when he heard it again, somewhat clearer. He walked down chilly the passage to the heavy oakwood door, and stood before it awhile. The iron bolt nearly froze to his hand as he pulled it back, and the door swung open. A peppering of icy snowflakes burned his face in the chill wind as he stared out into the moonlit forest, the darkened contours of the skeletally bare trees hardly visible against the dark blue sky. There was nothing. He stood in the doorway for several minutes, snow blowing into the hallway. At that moment, a gust of freezing wind blew past him. The torch went out, sending the scene into darkness. Then he heard it again, even closer. He turned turned away from the doorway and sprinted into a side chamber, where he found his cloak and put it on. As he walked back to the open door, his hand closed around his sword hilt. He drew it, and the steel shown in the faint moonlight. The snow made a faint crackling sound as he broke through the icy crust, and he winced at the sound. He wanted to be as silent as he could. He padded into the barren trees, peering from side to side, and he slowly circled the outpost. He heard the sound again, so close that he froze in his tracks. Suddenly, he saw a huddled shape crouched under an elm. It moved. Gripping his raised sword tightly in his freezing hands, he slowly advanced. The moon broke out from behind a black cloud, and he saw it. It was a Forestman, dressed in a torn cloak of dark green, still clutching the hilt of a shattered sword. A dark stain marred his cloak around the broken off shaft of an arrow protruding from his thigh. He moved slightly.

"W-w-who are you?"

He tumbled to his feet, raising the hilt of the broken sword. "Murderer! You have killed my comrades but you will not kill me, you scum!"
He swung the sword with an insane strengh, although with his wound he could hardly stand. Anardan leapt out of the way just in time, and the shattered sword flew out of his hands as the man collapsed, gasping in pain.

"I'm a friend, I'm a Forestman!" Anardan cried, and he sheathed his sword. "My friend, you must come inside! You will die out here!"
He offered his hand to the man, but he refused it. "I'm sorry, friend. I will come." With a great effort, he raised himself to his feet and began stumbling after Anardan. He cried out every other step. Two Forestmen were waiting at the door, arrows nocked. "My lord, what is it?" Anardan helped the injured Forestman over the threshold. "Shut the door!"
They obeyed. Anardan supported the man into the main room, where all was suddenly silent. The man gasped for several moments, regaining his breath. Then he spoke.

"They killed them... Killed them all. All! Dead! Dead! Filthy murdering scum! Killed them all dead!"

The unspoken question reverberated around the room as the man began to clench his hands into fists, breathing heavily.

"Filthy SCUM!"

He raised his cloak far enough to let a shield, emblazoned with the figure of a blue and black Falcon, slide to the floor. Then he passed out from the pain.
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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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Mon Dec 06, 2004 11:10 pm

Location: A ruined outpost on the forestman border.
Grid: J-7

Litzcrack laughed loudly as another round of Crusader ale was passed around. Bits and fragments of conversations floated around the small room that the group had moved into a week ago. It was more secluded then their last hideout and better protected as well. Putting the cup down, the rough looking unshaved man continued.
“And after we had set fire to the stables, a pitiful looking group of forestmen comes out and attacks us!” On the last few words the man nearly choked with laughter and the other men joined in with him.

All the men were quite drunk at that point. Just the day before, Litzcrack had led half of his men for another raid into Crusader territory. This one was much more productive than the first, and they had not only come off with some gold, but four large kegs of ale.

Litzcrack was never a good soldier. He had been despised by his superiors and except among a close group of other like scoundrels he was never very popular. When his company had been called up, Litzcrack had simply left with some thirty to forty others. He was a coward and he knew it. He could really care less though. This was the way to live. He now had a secure base to spend the winter and a body of men who served him. He would make another raid in two weeks, this time for more food. The forestmen had enough of that for sure.
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Postby forester3291 » Tue Dec 07, 2004 3:53 pm

forester3291 wrote:
"Mind telling me what that was all about? You storming off that night that is. Why did you do that?" Reno said cautiously, he didn't want to pry.

"Well you see it all happened when..........."



Note: The following post is set five years back. Frayla was 15, Fraun was 16.





........................... Fraun awoke, the birds were singing, the air was fresh, and the sun was just coming out over the trees. It was a wonderful day, so far.

"Get up boy, get a move on." It was Voolmark, "I prepared breakfast for you, it's downstairs."

"Alright, I hear you, I hear you." Fraun got out of bed, put on his clothes, then rushed downstairs to find Muffin cakes and fresh goat milk at the table.

After eating a plate of muffins and chugging down three glasses of milk he ot up from the table.

"Thanks for the breakfast Voolmark. I think your muffins are getting better everytime you make them." Fraun said with a smirk.

"Well boy, if yiou don't like'em then I will just stop making them for you. Now how would you like that? Hmmm?" Voolmark said with a sterness that Fraun knew was fake.

"I think I'll be going." Fraun said. "I'm supposed to meet Frayla and *Fritz."(Frayla's five year-old borther.)

"Aright then, just don't get into any trouble now, you hear me!"

"Yes I hear you, and would you please STOP calling me boy. I'm sixteen, and old enough to take care of myself."

"Yes, yes. Soon you'll be off joining the Rangers or something."

With tha Fruan was out the door, and sped down the path. He couldn't wiat to see Fryala.

He soon saw Frayla, she was standing holding her brother's hand trying to make him stop trying to catch frogs by the river.

He came into ear-shot and saw that Frayla wasn't too happy...

"......Now if I have told you once I ahve told you hundreds of times to STOP playing by the river. If you fell in you could drown."

"I know, I jsut wanted to see the froggys." Said Fritz.

"Oh, well that's alright. Don't start pouting, see here's Fruan." Frayla said with a smile.

"Hi Fraun." Said Fritz

"Hi there little buddy. How are you tody. Are you getting in to more mischief?" Said Fraun.

"My sister says so, but you can't always believe her." Said Fritz slyly.

"Oh you can't can you? Well we'll see." Fraun said, he smiled at Frayla.

"Are you two boys going to stand there or are we goign to pick blueberries?" Said Frayla, she didn't like were this discusoin was going.

"We're coming, Fritz just wants to go down by the river and show me all the frogs." Fruan said.

"Well alright, just be carefull, I don't want him falling in."

"Cme one Fruan hurry up." Fritz said, running down to the river.

"Now you wait up Fritz. We don't want you falling in.

Bit Fritz didn't here, he kept running tripped on a root and plunged into the ragin river.

Frayla screamed,

"Fraun get him, get him."

Fraun ran to the river and humped in, clothes and all. He saw Fritz's small head bobbing up and down in the waters, then it went under. Fraun swam with all his might. He was almost there. Then a strong current took him just out of reach of Fritz. He tried and tried but he just couldn't swim hard enough to catch the small bobbing form that was Fritz's boddy.

Then the waterfall came. Fritz toppled over falling, falling. Fraun wnet after him. Then all went black for Fraun.

He awoke to find himself on the bank. Then he saw Fritz. Lying in Frayl's arms, .


................................................"And she has never spoken to me ever again." Said Fraun. "She and her parents blamed me for that . Tehy didn't even invite me to the funeral."

"But it wasn't you fault Fraun. You can't let what they say bog you down. He shoudl have listened." Reno said confortingly.

"But I should have saved him, I should have tried harder. It is my fault, and She will never forgive me. Neither will I."


* Frayla's Brother of five years.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Tue Dec 07, 2004 9:06 pm

Grid: M-8
Location: Bjarn's Chamber, Drullen Bell Keep

Winter had embraced Dametreos with it's frigid blanket. The Northing Isle was covered in ten feet of snow, and the entire Black Falcon mainland territory was blanketed. Further inland the reborn Forestmen forest was also dusted with snow, but the Varden Swamplands, being near the coast, simply plummeted in temprature and frost solidified the marshy ground. Inside Drullen Bell Keep, fires blazed and crackled, doing their best to heat the large expance of stone rooms.

In one such room, Bjarn, Elk Man of the Forestmen, winced and gritted his teeth as Jack Craft slowly unwrapped the bandaged that covered Bjarn's two fractured legs. A pungent smell filled the room, a smell of herbs and healing flesh and bone.

"Well, your elkship, what say you?" asked Jack, attempted a grin as the last layer of clothe fell away. Revealed was something that Bjarn certainly thought was not his own skin. It was pale, whitish, and loosely wrinkled. Bjarn felt the bile rise in his throat.

"Ah, don't fret Bjarn. Ye look like a snail who's lost his shell. You've just been hiding under a rock too long, once you've burned a little sun back into your skin you'll look right as rain." assured Jack.

"You'd better be right." snarled Bjarn, laying back on his pillows, "But there's not way I'm going to soak in a little sun until this megabloks winter melts away, which won't be for four more months."

"Then ye'll have plenty ole time to pratice writing!" smiled Jack.

Bjarn grimaced. For a week now, Shainya had been aiding him in the rivival of regaining control over his hand that had been crushed by a Cross Knight's flail. His hand still looked a mess, just a clump of lumpy flesh with swollen sausages for fingers, but after much rubbing and masaging from Shainya, he had been able to move his fingers slightly. A little victory, but a victory none-the-less.
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Postby Commander Redbeard » Tue Dec 07, 2004 9:24 pm

M-8

Drullen Bell Keep

It was chaos. The next morning, twenty Forestmen soldiers under the command of Anardan marched into Drullen Bell Keep to report the raid, and within the hour messangers were sent to all of the Forestmen outposts in the region. The news spread like wildfire, and in the next two days scores of Forestmen began marching in. There were varied reports of more raids, and several survivors from the first staggered in early the third day. The Forestmen were in a frenzy, shouting and waving their weapons, burning Falcon standards on the parade ground.

Inside the Keep, half a score of selected Forestmen leaders, including Bjarn and Anardan, met for a council, seated around a heavy oaken table while the chants and cries from outside filtered vaguely in through the halls. A middle aged Forestman, a bandage wrapped around his leg and his arm in a sling, stood up.

"We were massacred. They came at us in the dead of night, and they killed everyone! They killed our women! They killed our old and sick! They burned our houses and stables! They laughed while they slew! The Falcon scum have gone too far this time. They are vile, filthy, and cowardly!
We want revenge."

He sat.
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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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Tue Dec 07, 2004 11:50 pm

Under the Reign of Falconis XXVI, the Falcon nobility had underwent a dramatic and decisive change. The nobility was reigned in under his control and all major fortresses and outposts were seized by the Falcon government. Some of the nobility had violently protested, but the iron grip of the king triumphed over all. Additionally, he required all members of the nobility to reside in Falconis City for at least four months out of the entire year.

Such was the case even now, and as a member of the nobility, Martin had a residence in the city. For the most part, Falconis city had no regular plan or order, sprawling as it grew, but this sector was different. Here the streets were wide and straight, to better allow the carriages that frequently passed through. A light snow was falling and Martin’s well shined boots crunched through the untrod firmament.

It was cold – unusually cold now. That morning a heavy blizzard had come through, depositing some two feet on the city. Normally, winter snows like that which was passing through did not come until January. Turning a corner, Martin dismissed the two soldiers who were accompanying him. Both saluted and Martin casually returned the gesture before they walked off, talking. Even sound seemed to be dimmed now, muffled by the snow. A few houses later, Martin turned into the short sidewalk that led to his front door. Like his own character, the abode was remarkably plain compared to the others that bordered it. The first floor was of hewn granite and a wattle and daub structure encased the second. Procuring a wrought iron key from his pocket, Martin tried to open the door. To his surprise he found the action had locked it rather then the other way around.

Odd, I could have sworn I had locked it…”. The man’s thick brow wrinkled and he passed his hand over his lightly balding head. Turning the key again he opened the door and closed it behind him.

Like the outside, the interior of his house was simple as well. For one, Martin rarely came, most of the time instructing younger officers and staying at various barracks. There was a foyer – to the right there was a sitting room, the left a small dining room and in the back, separated from the house was a kitchen. Martin did have one servant who most of the time simply served as a house sitter. The general’s keen militaristic mind sensed something wrong though. Moving his foot somewhat, he felt it slide just a bit. Looking down, he saw a small spot of oil, directly below one of the door’s brass hinges.

Dusk was approaching and walking to a small teacart in the dining room, Martin stuck a match and lit the two candles on the table. Before he closed the drawer, he looked down in it again. Normally he kept any important documents carefully stacked in there – stacked they were, yes – but not the order he usually placed them. He paused for a moment with a troubled expression on his face. Something was up. Looking behind his back, he pushed a small lever on the back corner of the drawer. A small compartment opened up and reaching inside Martin lifted up a small stack of papers. Flipping through them, he saw that nothing there was out of order. He put them back and closed the drawer once more.

Walking to the sitting room Martin briefly looked around. Nothing there was wrong. He took a few minutes to light a fire and then started to walk up the stairs that led to the second level.

Here he had two bedrooms and a small office. The first he did not bother with, that was Matilda’s room. The same went for his own room – all of his work was conducted in his office. Opening the door, a blast of cold air greeted him. The window shutters were wide open and papers were strewn over the desk, the floor and most everywhere else. Looking outside, all Martin saw was a single figure walking away from the house nearly a block away. He closed the shutters and sat down in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He had known this would happen, rather, he quite nearly expected it. He did not blame Durlasss of being suspicious, but the Marquis would never be sure of his intentions this way.

Martin smiled and then laughed – high treason was not something you write on a scrap of paper.
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Thu Dec 09, 2004 4:31 pm

Karl’s tall figure only added to his coldness as he exited the city gates. It was well below freezing and yesterday’s snowstorm had not helped matters. He had read the Marquis’ orders – they were short and to the point. So short in fact, that he had memorized them:

Karl-

You are hereby ordered to make a formal peace with the Legolanders and their emperor. Undoubtedly the subject of the Bulls and the Royal Knights will come up. As for the first, remind them that there are no Bulls in their former territory. It has all been settled by our countrymen as you well know. As for the Royal Knights, be more blunt. The most I will allow is a semi-autonomous government. Remind those there that they are not an occupied people. They still have the same laws, governments, and taxes they formally did. The only difference is that their dues are going to a different administration now. Royal Knight Territory is a hard-won asset. It cannot be given up. You may offer any amount of food, gold, wood, or supplies that we have to make a peace.


Bending his head down against the raging east wind, Karl continued, pulling his hood closer to his face. Hopefully he would be at Orion within a fortnight.
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

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Postby Formendacil » Thu Dec 09, 2004 5:49 pm

Grid: H-9
Location: Past the Neverwood, on the edge of Royal Knight territory.

Jayko had never been so glad as when he saw the dusty road leading across their path. It was a little-used Dragon Master road, intended for the use by the patrols who guarded the Royal Knight/Dragon Master border. It was currently out of use, due to the fact that the Royal Knights needed no watching, and the Dragon Masters were concerned with rebuilding.

All the same, it was a piece of civilisation, something neither he nor Elwen had seen for quite some time. They quickly changed direction to follow it.

A day or two later, they came on a much larger road, running crosswise to their own. It was a major trade road between the Dragon Master cities to the south, and the Royal Knights to the north, or it would have been if the two countries had been able to stand each other.

Jayko turned them north onto the road. They were back on track, to Port Jozef, where Jayko had a ship waiting.

Or so he thought....
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Thu Dec 09, 2004 8:47 pm

Commander Redbeard wrote:A middle aged Forestman, a bandage wrapped around his leg and his arm in a sling, stood up.

"We were massacred. They came at us in the dead of night, and they killed everyone! They killed our women! They killed our old and sick! They burned our houses and stables! They laughed while they slew! The Falcon scum have gone too far this time. They are vile, filthy, and cowardly!
We want revenge."

He sat.


M-8
Council Chamber, Drullen Bell Keep

Bjarn, who was not seated at the table but laying near it on a cot, raised himself up and spoke, his eyes full of greif and anger.

"The Falcons have truly lost all sence of their original honor, they are now nothing better than thieves."

"Then we must fight!" snarled the man with the broken arm, "Let their black blood run in the streets of Falconis City!"

Bjarn shook his head. "Our blood would equal and surpass theirs if we were foolish enough to attack. Our soldiers who survived BloodVaine cannot take on another enemy, we would not survive. The only thing we can do is take this to the Classic Emperor."

The man slammed his good fist into the woodwork, "By Chodan, those scum killed and looted my entire family, I will not let them go unpunished!"

Bjarn's eyes burned, "You will obey your leader, and fight when I say so, hold back when I say so. Chodan, has this what the Forestmen have come to, fighting among ourselves?"

"Punishment need not come in the form of violence." noted Gonderin, his elven features drawn taunt in concentration, "The Black Falcons, like the rest of us, have suffered because of BloodVaine. They invaded the Royals because their own food supply is dangerously low. They also need wood to keep their giant stone fortresses heated. They will perish without these things. We, the Forestmen, are unable to defend our borders. However, the Classics can used their large political power to squash the Black Falcons. They only need to incur sanctions and seal off Black Falcon borders, and the Black Falcons will wither like grass beneath a stone."

Anardan nodded. "I have heard rumors the Classic Emperor intends to order the Ninja Army to patrol Dametreos and keep the peace because they are the only faction who did not suffer under BloodVaine."

"We must go to the Classic Emperor so that his can hear our case. He alone has the power to stop this." said Bjarn firmly.

"Then I will go, my lord." replied Gonderin, rising to his feet and bowing, "I will leave on the morrow."

"Very good." nodded Bjarn, "This council in ajourned, then."

As they all got up to leave, the man with the sling still glowered.
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