Classic-Castle Roleplay: December

[Robin Hood]

Grid: G-9
Location: East wall of Orlan

Sir Theodore and the five men he had picked to help him, were crawling on the ice toward the grated arch. They moved slowly, stopping every now and then on the frozen river to make sure that they hadn't been spotted.

At last they made it to the wall. Theodore bent down to start filing away the grating. The ice was higher than they had expected, and the knight-general could barely fit under it to saw.

After a few minutes, Theodore was realived and another man began sawing. After four turns, the knight was filing when the last bar broke.

Sir Theodore then got on his belly and pulled himself through the tiny hole. As his head poked into the city, Theodore did a quick scan to make sure that there were no Falcons looking, then he pulled himself all the way through and let the next soldier come in.

When all the Royal Knights were in, they headed across the pool of ice and into the main part of the town. Despite that the town was under attack, a fair amount of people were out. They weren't too concerned because the attacking army had no siege equipment and if you were a little ways away from the wall, you were pretty safe. The soldiers, in their peasent garb, mix in with the people and traveled untill they were a stones throw away from the south gates. Here the trouble started.

In order to reach the gates they would have to run from the house they curently were beside and dodge around a tent set up that held the lieutenant, who was commanding the garrison.

"This is bad," murmured one of the soldiers.

"Aye," agreed Sir Theodore, "bad, but not hopeless. I might have an idea."

He then beckond the soldiers to follow him, as he marched strait into the tent. When Theodore entered the tent, he saw that not only was the lieutenant there, but Harold Noe, the city's governer had also left the mayor's building to see how things were going.

Both of the Falcons looked up startled as Sir Theodore and his five men marched in. Before either could say anything, Theodore had drawn his concealled dagger and forced it under Noe's neck. Another soldier grabbed the lieutenant and held him.

"Whats all this?" demanded Noe, "what do you peasents want?"

"We want you to order the gates open." said Theodore.

"I am afraid that that can't be done, the soldiers would never agree to that." said the lieutenant.

"Well then, come out side."

Sir Theodore and his soldiers grabbed the two falcons and march them as fast as they could to the gates.

"Open the gates," said Theodore. "I'll make sure these two give us the protection we need."

As the soldiers began to open them, the Falcons realized what was happening. They started to run at the Royal Knights, but stopped when they saw Sir Theodore holding two knives to their officer's throats. They kept a distance from the Royal Knights, unsure what to do.

There decision making was cut short as the Royal Knights opened the gates and a cry rang out from the army outside. And LegoXIII army began moving toward the open gate.

***********************************************

Three hours later, the city had been taken. Harold Noe was in prison, awaiting trial and/or punishment. And Lego XIII had just recieved word from his father that Castleton was taken. Now, all Royal Knight lands south of the capital was taken back, and now forces were beening split around the new border to prevent any retaking on the Falcons part and to start forming a bigger army with which to take the rest of the land.

Lego sat in his saddle as he travel to meet his father in the Castleton. Yes, he mused, life was good.

[The Green Knight]

Just then, the man's thoughts were interrupted by a noise from overhead. It was a sound that Gib knew well.

"Bats!"

Location: Underground

Of course, bats! If Gib could just communicate with one of them then perhaps he could escape his predicament. Crawling further up the rocky beach, Gib discovered that what had looked like lights from the water were actually luminescent mushrooms that grew in scattered patterns across the rocky shore. Slowly a plan formed in the hermit's head. He was going to make it out after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"When......will this......forest.......end?" Elbadar took his breaths in long gasps as he lent against a tree. Bernard was beside him, sword drawn.
"I....I don't know, ........Elbadar. We've been harassed by those frightful spiders almost constantly. I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"The weather's getting worse too." said Elbadar. "Colder, especially at night."
Bernard nodded. "We have to get out of here and find Elwen. Come on, those things are still following us, I'll wager. They'll catch up if we linger."
The two men started forward with the trees watching over their movements. The mood was dark and the noises in the shadows beside and behind them only served to increase the feeling of dread and watchfulness. They continued in such a fashion until they were met by a steep slope with a stream at the bottom. Elbadar went down first, followed by Bernard, who leapt over the stream at once and started up the opposite side without so much as a pause in his step. He was past the embankment and about to keep going when he realized that Elbadar wasn't following. The legolander turned and at once saw what it was that had stayed his companion.
There, at the bottom of the gulley, was the body of a man. He was half covered in dirt, with a brown cloak and pack around his shoulder.
"Is he alive?" asked Bernard.
"I think so but, it looks like his leg is broken. How do you suppose he got here?"
"I don't know. I-I can't say, but....we'd better get going." Bernard took several deliberate steps forward before stopping and turning around. "You say his leg is broken?"
Elbadar sheathed his sword and glared at Bernard. "Oh no. You're not thinking of taking him with us. We have to get out of here! We have to find Elwen, remember!
"I know, I know! I don't want take him with us. I want to get out of here. I want to find Elwen before something happens to her. But..."
"But?"
"But we have to help him. And I won't hear any complaints either. Now we'll need a splint...."

[lemon_squeezer2]

In the palace, the massive government structure that served as the nerve center for the Empire was Durlass, alone bent over the heavy carved desk. In front of his cluttered workspace lay an important document. He stared at it for a few moments and shoved it aside. Taking his quill, he dipped it, scraped it neatly on the side of the inkwell and began methodically checking a column of figures as to the number of flagstones needed to finish an outpost or some other minor calculation that would turn his thoughts from the disturbing report.

Here he sat, pondering on what to do. Shaking his head, he picked up the paper again. Royal Knight territory was half overrun, and there was almost nothing he could do about it. The Flacons had a standing army of some 100,000 men, of which only a tenth could be properly mobilized. Even that would take several weeks to do. When the army had taken Royal Knight lands and pushed their way to the south, that alone had taken two
months to form up the gargantuan army and properly equip it.

4,000 men had been stationed in various spots of the conquered land and now only half that number still stood. The Eastern half still was held by Falcons, but the loss of the greater portion was a sore blow indeed.

Durlass looked over the report again. Raising his hand to his brow, he closed his eyes. Something had to be done. There was always a way out. He opened his eyes again and picked up a small trinket on his desk. It was nothing really, just a small ship in a bottle – he had made it himself when he was still quite young.

Then the idea hit him. Grinning like a schoolboy, he jumped from his chair and hurried to a large chest of drawers. In the second of these was a map of Dametroes. There it was – the port city of Gok. The harboring place of the 1st fleet.

[lemon_squeezer2]

The admiral protested futilely “Durlass, with all due respect, this is madness! You want me to transport 2,000 men to Port Josef through stormy weather, ice, and shoals - all under absolute secrecy? It cannot be done!”
Durlass had expected this. “Then how did that Royal Knight fleet get through?”
“That was three weeks ago! Long before that ice storm whipped through our ports. Besides – even if we were able to do so, we would need weeks to prepare. 2,000 men…” The admiral paused, muttering numbers. “That would require some 200 ships – we barely have one hundred in the entire 1st fleet.”
“What of the merchant marine? Trading cogs, transport ships, fishing vessels. Surely there must be at least 500 on the entire north coast.
“I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit sir. The sheer logistics of such a venture.”
Durlass smiled. “I know you Girard. You are a capable man. Whatever you need, I will do my best to provide.”
“I will write you up a report then within the week.”
“Good man. I knew I could count on you.”

Little did either of them know that a massive storm front was shaping up over the tropical islands of the Legolanders. The ice storm of that week had been a mere prelude to what was coming.

[Formendacil]

Grid: E-10
Location: Port Jozef

Then he got back to the inn, and things got a lot worse. Elwen had been taken.

The inn was not in good shape. It was smoking, and the servants and guests were running in the streets.

"What happened?" demanded Jayko, grabbing a fleeing barmaid.

"Slavers!" cried the girl. "They came in, setting fire to the place. They took all the young, able-bodied men and women they could find. I managed to hide in a wine barrel."

"What happened to Elwen?" cried Jayko. "What happened to my companion?"

"She was taken," replied the girl.

"How could these slavers get away with this?" cried Jayko. "They dare attack an inn in broad daylight? Have they no fear of the authorities?"

"Sir, the authorities are no longer loyal to the king," said the barmaid, "and most are in league with the slavers, anyway. They gave the slaver captain a royal escort."

Jayko let the girl go, his blood boiling in his veins. He set off towards the harbour, just in time to see the last of the captives being marched onto the slave ship. There were no ordinary citizens to be seen, as most were hiding in fear of the slavers themselves. What remained of the old city guard stood watch at the end of the wharf, preventing the captives from escaping. Jayko could just catch sight of Elwen's crown, glinting at the back of the line.

Jayko charged past the soldiers, racing down the wharf, and onto the ramp into the ship, even as the lines were being cut and the anchor raised. He landed on the deck even as the ship was released from its moorings and started moving out to sea.

The Talonjain knight looked up from his position on the deck, only to see a score of slavers pointing their weapons at him. Jayko felt extremely foolish.

[Formendacil]

Grid: N-24
Location: Talistrand

-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.

The Sorceror-king was in a bind. He had no way of telling where the drunken sot might be. A port city, obviously. And most likely on the northern end of Dametreos, and probably not any Falcon cities, or cities in turmoil.

Still, that only left a half dozen or so MAJOR ports, to say nothing of all the fishing villages he could be in.

-Kingston- said the Sorceror-king.

Many leagues to the north, Jacques Broadside laughed out loud in relief. The Sorceror-king WAS fallible. He didn't know where Broadside was.

The Sorceror-king knew right away that he had guessed wrong, and didn't even bother maintaining the connection with Broadside, but simply let the privateer's mind fall away.

He was in a rather angry mood, and was contemplating how to get into contact with Elbadar when the Old Man entered the room.

"What do you want?" snapped the Sorceror-king.

"Nothing," replied the Old Man.

"I find that very hard to believe."

"It is the truth nonetheless," said the Old Man. "I was merely seeing whether or not you were having any success getting your 'Admiral' to return."

The Sorceror-king inwardly clenched his will VERY tightly. The Old Man had a knack of getting on his nerves precisely where they were tightest. He longed for the day when they could fight, and be done with the pretence of alliance.

"Obviously not," he replied tightly.

"So I noticed," said the Old Man, heading back out of the room. "Nor am I really surprised. You never did have that attractive a presence."

The Sorceror-king glared at the Old Man as he left the room. It was only a matter of time before he got what was coming to him.

[Daimyo]

Grid: ?? Location: ??

THE misty tropical air clung to the leathery skin of the ronin warrior, even deep within those wretched catacombs. It was colder down there, and the wafting odor of death and decay surrounded him, but they wre still not near deep enough. Not deep enough at all.
The corridor seemed small with the lichen-infested columns that were packed so close in the space allotted. It added to the sense of primal fear the ronin and his companion felt. Or did his companion feel it? He did not know. He could not smell his fear, but how could he not be afraid? How could he unleash the creatures of h ell and not be afraid?
The damp and foul air felt thicker as a pale blue light grew brighter before them, swelling to a blinding white flash and settling again into a black flame. The ronin covered his eyes at this moment, terrified, yet his companion did not. Slipping out of the black womb, Pazuzu's white face emerged out of the flame. His black eyes were rimmed with red bags, his face was twisted into a grimace. It was the same grimace he always wore.
No comfort has the fire at night that lights the face so cold.
With a voice like sandpaper scratched across sharp rocks, he bellowed.
"Did you find the blade?"
The companion, face hidden by the collar of his black steel armor, seemed unfazed by Pazuzu's hideous appearance and unholy voice. He replied with nary a quiver in his speech.
"No, sensei. We were followed."
Pazuzu frowned.
"Followed? By who?"
"The Forestmen, sensei. They believe they have the right to police the world. They followed us into the crypt."
"What happened?"
"We ignored them for quite some time before we reached the Door to the 13th Soul. The gate that leads to the second crypt level."
"And?"
"They must have triggered a spell of some sort. An enchantment, laid down by the crypt-makers."
Pazuzu's eyes darted. "Curse you, Ael-Khan-Ra, you tyco megablox... what did it do?"
"It.... It summoned something... In the bowels of the crypt..."
"What was it?! Tell me mortal!!"
The samurai paused, as if afraid to utter the name.
"Beelzebub."
Pazuzu shrunk back, his faced lined with revulsion and horror.
"The lord of Pandemonium himself?"
"Yes, sensei..."
"And the Forestmen?"
"Slaughtered. We left immediately, the fear took hold of us, sensei. We cannot defeat that... that..."
Pazuzu smirked. "You do not have to. Kanto, Daimyo, I have a demon slayer... who shall do the the job for me."

Oh, dance in the dark of night, Sing to the morning light.
The dark Lord rides in force tonight, And time will tell us all.

[Commander Redbeard]

Drullen Bell Keep

J-8

Several weeks had passed since the rogue Falcons had been captured. No word had come from the Dark Foresters and Forestmen deployed to Ninja territory until one morning, just before Christmas, two terrified-looking, ragged men stumbled into the Keep. One seemed to be a Dark Forester, the other a bedraggeled Forestman. They reported into Bjarn's chamber at once.
"My Lord, We made good time into Ninja territory.... We located the crypt after our spies followed a band of Ninjas, and our main group followed them in... We were left outside. After twenty-four hours, when they did not return, we went inside. It is a treacherous place. There seem to be a great number of treasure-rooms filled with who knows what dark things, but a great many black enchantments were laid in the corridors. We found the main group after an hour's searching. They were all dead. There was no mark on them, but they were all dead as cold stone! There is an evil about that place and we dared not stay. We have run in fear all the way back to Forestman territory! We are being followed, my lord! Something terrible has come!"

[Formendacil]

Grid: M-8
Location: Drullen Bell Keep

Sir Dractor had not really done anything useful for a couple months. Nothing notable anyway. It was perhaps one of the quietest times of his life, doing small, odd, and rather simple jobs here and there, but mostly sitting around Drullen Bell hobnobbing with the captains and soldiers, and doing relatively little. In the life of one such as he, such periods of calm were few and far between.

Drullen Bell was in the process of preparing for the Yuletide celebrations. Visitors were coming in from the country, the kitchens were preparing food, and Sir Dractor was helping some of the rangers with decorating the Great Hall. It was, Sir Dractor thought, very similar to the year-end celebrations of his own nation.

The gigantic fir standing in the centre of the Great Hall was a bit different though....

The rangers had been very busy the past week cutting down and moving a truly enormous fir from the forest, down to Drullen Bell, and then through the entrance, into the courtyard, and through the massive double doors into the Great Hall. Then they had to find a way to stand it upright, and keep it that way.

All that was finished by now, and the time had come to bedeck it with garlands and ornaments. The twenty foot height of the tree made it necessary to use several ladders to reach the upper 2/3rds of the tree.

Still, thought Sir Dractor, when all was finished, it had been fun putting it up and the result was truly impressive. It was good to have a holiday to celebrate. He wondered what the Old Man and Elwen were doing as Yuletide approached.

[Daimyo]

Grid: L-7 Location: Hemlock City

THE ivory-white snows blanketed a sleepy city. The blackened ruins of Hemlock Fortress loomed over it like a grim stormcloud. And it was the night before Christmas Eve.
The holiday was not commonly celebrated among the rustic and hardy serfs of the Dark Forest, and this year it seemed there was little to celebrate, anyways. Two wars had crippled the land in the same expanse. And the mighty avatar of their empire was now a lonely, charred husk on a scorched hill.
We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
How soft your fields so green, can whisper tales of gore,
Of how we calmed the tides of war. We are your overlords.
Radjar could not do anything but feel helpless. After all the bloodshed came glory, after glory came hope. Hope had dissolved into lethargy and bitter solitude. He stood in the spot where his great mahogany throne had stood waiting to comfort him, merely a pile of ash now, scattered upon the dark stone floor. The walls around lacked the furbished wooden beams that once supported them, and stones crumbled as he stood. The whole castle could fall on itself, and take him with it.
He outstretched his arms and looked to the ceiling, eyes closed. Snow fell from the gap in the ancient roof, onto his pale, shaved and tall face and into his long garnet hair. This was what he had left behind. But what had he came back with? Rosa.
When the mountains crumble to the sea,
There will still be you and me.
She grasped his shoulders and he lowered his arms and head, turning towards her with a loving gleam in his eye. She smiled at him.
Her face is cracked from smiling, all the fears that she's been hiding,
And it seems pretty soon everybody's gonna know.
And her voice is sore from shouting, cheering winners who are losing,
And she worries if their days are few and soon they'll have to go.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Still, thought Sir Dractor, when all was finished, it had been fun putting it up and the result was truly impressive. It was good to have a holiday to celebrate.

Bjarn, sitting up in his portable cot cheered with the rest when the giant of a tree was at last set upright, it's massive trunk supported by stones and metal braces hastily hammered out by Rodurik and his son, Trad. While Sir Dractor oversaw the decorations, Jack Craft dictated the arranging of tables.

"Brix and blox, Aros, lad lift you end, 'igher! Megablocks! OW, no, I'm fine, keep yer end up, lad! Now turn left, by the brick, LEFT, yer other left! Brix and blox..."

Bjarn chuckled and downed a mug of honeyed tea. Now that his legs had at last stopped paining him, his had abandoned all alchohol to return to lest intoxicating drinks. As he sucked on the last dregs Shainya bounced forward, her face beaming, and refilled his cup. Bjarn thanked her and she left to refill other empty mugs, but not before exchanging a playful kiss with Reno, who laughed heartily as his hung a low-hanging branch with a bauble.

The great oaken doors opened again and Willem Blackcloak, along with Graygon and a troop of Wolfpack entered, carrying a skewered boar between them.

"Willem! This is a surprise!" cried Bjarn, very peeved he could get up and rush to his friend.

"Siastrakahn's a mess, Bjarn, so we decided to bother the Forestmen this Yuletide!" grinned Willem.

"Here's our rent!" joked Graygon, noding toward the boar.

"You are all welcome!" laughed Bjarn, "Ho, Gonderin, please escort our fine guests to the kitchen!"

As the Wolfpack exited the great hall, the doors opened again, displaying a not-so-cheerful sight. Radjar, Rosa and the band of Dark Foresters stood there, bedraggled and shivering, thier faces red with cold. They slinked in and the oak doors slammed behind them, causing most of the cheer to leak out of the hall. Radjar and Rosa approached Bjarn and they both bowed as best they could.

"Lord Bjarn, I beg of your allowance to stay in Drullen Bell." murmured Radjar, "Hemlock is no more. The fires of the Eroth Gamus has consumed it. I have no to place to return to."

"Radjar, how could I possibly say no?" replied Bjarn, his eyes sad, "We are not just allies, but friends. Go, and warm thyselves. The Forestmen do now exactly have full larders, but we have enough. Clothes with me supplied as well. And there is no need to thank me. You would have done the same. Now go, for the feast will begin with the hour."

As the weary group straggled off, Bjarn's eyes caught sight of Radjar's and Rosa's hands. They were clasped within another. Bjarn smiled. Though this year had seen many horrors, there was still much to be grateful for.

[Formendacil]

Grid: H-10
Location: Edge of the Neverwood

Elbadar sheathed his sword and glared at Bernard. "Oh no. You're not thinking of taking him with us. We have to get out of here! We have to find Elwen, remember!
"I know, I know! I don't want take him with us. I want to get out of here. I want to find Elwen before something happens to her. But..."
"But?"
"But we have to help him. And I won't hear any complaints either. Now we'll need a splint...."

The stranger had not yet waken. Elbadar and Quorandis had cleaned him, put him under blankets, and put him in a splint. Currently, they were encamped near the edge of the forest, Elbadar's Dragon Master background having finally conspired to get them out of the forest's centre. In only a few hours' march, they would finally be away from the place.

At the moment, however, they were camping. A large fire had been started in a pine glade. The horses were tethered behind them, and the stranger lay in blankets beside the fire's heat.

"It's very cold for this time of year," noted Elbadar. "And I sense moisture in the wind. The Neverwood is in for snow, I wager. They won't see it farther south. The Dragon Masters rarely see precipitation of any kind. Ours is a dry, and sometimes irrigated land."

"It's much colder than I'm used to these days," admitted Quorandis. "I was raised and trained in Orion. My father was at the Golden Court, and our title still ties us to an estate in north Tridentia, but I've spent the past seven years in Talistrand, and I've become accustomed to the balmier temperatures down there."

Quorandis paused and sighed.

"A Joyous Yuletide, my friend. Tis a pity that we must celebrate it alone and forgotten out here."

"It's not that bad," said Elbadar. "The fire's burning, and the wood seems to be leaving us alone for the holidays. And-" Elbadar broke off smiling, and reached over to his saddle-bag, pulling out a bottle "-I saved a little something for a special occasion."

Elbadar handed the bottle over to the gaping Quorandis.

"1986 Guardendia Innis," he read off the label. "A princely vintage!"

"Aye, and expensive too," said Elbadar. "Or it is normally. I got it for cheap in the aftermath of the battle. Spoils of war from the Cross Knight headquarters. I've got another twenty cases kept in storage in Orion."

"Well, knowing that, I fell no compunction whatsoever in helping empty this particular bottle," said Quorandis, tugging the cork open.

"To our success!" he toasted, raising the bottle. "And to a peaceful, profitable year in 2005!"

Quorandis took a drink, and then handed the bottle to Elbadar, who took a sip. Then the stranger stirred.

"He's waking!" said Elbadar, his mouth still half full of Guardendia Innis.

[Formendacil]

Grid: E-10
Location: Leaving Port Jozef

The Talonjain knight looked up from his position on the deck, only to see a score of slavers pointing their weapons at him. Jayko felt extremely foolish.

"Well, well, well," said the slaver captain, easily distinguished from his lackeys by his commanding presence and expensive dress, as he came down to see the cause of the commotion. "What have we here?"

"Unhand me!" cried Jayko. "I am Baron Jayko of the House of Falconensis, Governor of Barleyburg. Release me immediately!"

"Falconensis, you say?" said the captain, raising an eyebrow. "So you've been in Port Jozef since Barleyburg was assaulted. Most interesting. Lord Danner would be interested to hear that. Rumour has it that he was quite put out when he found you missing. Didn't bother me personally. We got quite a few of your blue-fringed rabble into our hold with neither him nor any of your men being any the wiser. Got a good price for them too. Rainbow peasants are highly valued in the market. Considered quite docile, you know."

"I demand that you release me!" shouted Jayko, bringing the captain's attention back to the matter at hand.

"Why should I?" said the captain. "You're potentially worth a fair bit of money. Even if Danner doesn't want you, I'm certain I can fetch a good price on the market for a rainbow baron."

The captain dismissed Jayko's protests from his mind, and turned to his men.

"Put the rainbow in the valuables hold. See to it that his armour and sword are brought to my cabin. The style may not be my preference, but a baron can certainly afford good quality, if ugly, armour."

Dis-armoured, and separated from his sword, Jayko was dragged off the deck, and into the hold. He barely had time to notice that the slaver ship was sailing northwards, before he was dragged through the main hold, which was full of captured slaves, and into a smaller room at the rear of the ship. There, he was thrown into a steel-barred cage. The door was locked behind him, and after hearing it click, the slavers left the room.

Jayko looked around, his eyes growing accustomed to the dim light. There were five other cages in the room, four of which appeared to be empty. A familiar voice came from the fifth.

"Jayko? Is that you?" The broken voice belonged to Elwen.

[Formendacil]

Grid: E-10
Location: On a slaver ship, leaving Port Jozef

Jayko looked around, his eyes growing accustomed to the dim light. There were five other cages in the room, four of which appeared to be empty. A familiar voice came from the fifth.

"Jayko? Is that you?" The broken voice belonged to Elwen.

"Yes," said Jayko, after a moment's pause. "Are you alright?"

"Do I sound like it?" asked Elwen, moving closer towards him, as far as the cage would allow. As she got nearer, Jayko could see her better. He clothes were torn and muddied. Her face and arms were streaked with blood. Her hair was matted and torn. It was also apparent that someone had tried to yank the crown off her head.

"Do you know where we're going?" asked Elwen.

"Not really," said Jayko. "The main slave markets are in the south. The Fright Knights, the Shadowlands province of the Eastern Kingdom, and some of the more distant Black Knight Isles are the only places where slavery is legal. But we could be going anywhere, since there is a huge black market. We're headed northwards, so maybe Iadoraz."

"The slavers said something about Anka Dolour," said Elwen. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"Yes," said Jayko. "It's the slaver capital, so to speak. It's a small island, supposedly in Black Knight territory, but the local baron heeds only his own dictates. Anka Dolour is a smallish city, but it is home to the largest and least honourable slave market in all Dametreos. Please say we're not going there!!!"

"I wish I could," said Elwen, "but I can't. And I'm not feeling all that charitable towards you right now anyway. It's YOUR fault we're in this mess in the first place."

[Formendacil]

Grid: E-10
Location: On a slaver ship, leaving Port Jozef

"I wish I could," said Elwen, "but I can't. And I'm not feeling all that charitable towards you right now anyway. It's YOUR fault we're in this mess in the first place."

At first, Jayko bristled at Elwen's words. HIS fault??? He had been trying to save her. At least she was safe from that evil man, Quorandis.

But before he could protest, he started to think. Anka Dolour. If there was anything worse than Bernard Quorandis, it was the slave markets of Anka Dolour. Who knew what sort of person would purchase Elwen? Whoever it was would probably treat in as harsh and degrading a manner as possible. Elwen WAS, after all, very good-looking. She was still relatively young (if older than Jayko), and she had not had a hard life to ruin her looks. It was no brute labour, in the mines or fields, that awaited her in Anka Dolour, but something far worse....

And it WAS his fault she had been in Port Jozef. Jayko felt his optimism fail. They were going to Anka Dolour, she to the stripping of her honour and will to live, and he to be sold to Danner Violess, or to be sold to the salt mines...

"Yes," he said quietly, not voicing his unspoken thoughts, "I suppose it is my fault."

Elwen caught the catch in his voice, and wondered at it. She didn't ask the cause, but she could guess it: evil things awaited them in Anka Dolour.