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Classic-Castle Roleplay: January

LEGO gaming, including group role playing games

Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Sun Jan 30, 2005 6:28 am

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:"A pity this room 'tis too small for spear-throwing," grinned Dordrot, "I'd like to see where my spear-throwing stands next to the champ. Fraun Jerlock said I was the best he had ever seen."

Freena stretched her taught features into a warm smile and tossed back her long dirty-blone hair with a flick of her head.

"Once this snow melts, it's a date." she said.


"Now that the roughhousers have abandoned me, is there an intellect in this place who would consider a game or two?" queried Vanderdious with mock sadness.

Randolph, who had been read, smiled and heaved himself out of his chair by the fire.

"I'll give it a try, though I'm a bit rusty..."

"Then you're in for a treat..." cackled Vanderdious evilly, pushing the pieces back into place.

Three hours later, Vanderdious had beaten Randolph three times, but each time it had been harder. Now, on the forth game, both Black Falcon were gripping the checkered board with white knuckles as they watched eatch other manipulate the pieces. Once in a while there would be a triumphant whoop from one side and a groan from the other as another rook or pawn or knight was captured. At one point Vanderdious let loose a torent of exagerated evil laughter when he captured Randolph's queen with his own. Randolph soon repeated the laugh when one of his pawns made it to the back row and was upgraded to a queen.

Now both of them were sweating. Carefully, they positioned their remaining pawns and advanced. Both ranks were decimated, and soon Randolph was reduced to his king, queen and one pawn, where Vanderdious had four pawns and his king. Both were uncertain of victory, until Vanderdious gave a suddenly chuckled and moved a single pawn.

"Check."

Randolph moved his king out of the way. Vanderdious moved another pawn.

"Check."

Randolph moved his king again. Vanderdious moved his third pawn. Suddenly Randolph knew he was done for. Resignedly, he moved moved his queen to protect the king. Vanderdious captured the queen with his fourth pawn.

"Checkmate."

Vanderdious wiped his forehead.

"Tyco, Randolph, ye remember quick! I daren't ask for another game...I might lose this time..."

Vanderdious winked. Randolph laughed and helped put the pieces away. Everyone was quiet for a while, while the Lone Falcon and Barbod wrote and everyone else sat and thought their own private thoughts.

"Anyone for checkers?" asked Dordrot at last. Everyone else chuckled. It would be a long winter.
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Postby The Green Knight » Sun Jan 30, 2005 10:57 pm

Location: Port Jozef

So, the men said their final goodbyes and parted company.

Gib was hobbling back up the wharf, Jackal at his side, when a strange strain of music caught his ear.

The hermit turned to see where the sound was coming from. What he saw amazed him.

Puffing and huffing into the harbor was a boat, the likes of which Gib had never seen. It was covered in icicles and snow(no surprise) except for in front where a giant calliope's was beating out a cheery tune. In the back of the scow, spinning slowly forward, was what looked like some sort of wide, mill wheel. A round, metal smokestack puffed silently on the roof of the cabin and behind what looked like some steering mechanism at the prow, stood a man. He was dressed in high winter gear, with a pipe puffing steadily in his mouth.

Now, as the vessel drew nearer, he began to sing. Raising his voice above the din of his mechanical orchestra.

Come ye one an' come ye all!
Get yer knicks an' get yer knacks!
A spark for yer fire an' a light fer yer hall!
And a pipe with a brush fer the soot in yer stacks!

An' if ye be weary an' sick o' cold
A'n need a drought te' stay the chill.
Weel come'n in gather round ol' Taylor Road.
An' fix ye up right, I most ceertainly will.

The man continued in billowing song to the tune of the lilting calliope, as thieves and vagabonds began to gather around his ship. Then, as the scow reached the end of the docks, the calliope stopped with a clang and with a booming voice, the man addressed his audience.

“Laddies an' Lassies, Crooks an' Cads, alloow me tea introduce meself. Road's the name. Taylor Road. Sailor, Tradesman, and Merchant extrordanar! If I dinna have it, then it dinna exist.”

Gib edged closer. Somehow, he found himself drawn to the strange ship.

“Aye, That's right.” Taylor Road said, flipping back a tarp and reveling a pile of trinkets, bobbles, and other useless looking knick-knacks. “Step right up an' take a gander. What about you sir?” The man looked right at Gib, a twinkle in his eye. “What can I do ye fer?”

“I...I'm just looking. Your ship is-”

“Aye, ye fancy me sardine clipper! Quite a technological marvel, if I do say so meself. There be no finner vessel then the good ship Apple-tart. Run's on magic. Stones, that is. Engine's been giving me trouble lately, though. This weather's been wreaking havoc on all us magicy types.”

“What, you're a wizard?”

“What do ye think, Rigger?” Taylor winked and gave a hearty laugh. “Aye, I like the cut of yer jib!” This remark was followed by an even louder burst of laughter, and then...
“Aye, but a fellow must be serious now an' then. Bad things are afoot in this land an' somen's got to stop them. Not me o' course. Fer tisn't me place to do so. Aye, but you've got some some part tae play in this ere long. I can feel it in me marrow.”

“I'm looking fer someone.” said Gib. He wasn't sure why he said it. The hermit usually didn't trust strangers.

“Weell, I'll just take a look in me crystal ball here... Waita minute. Ach! Tis only a snow globe. Here, ye can hold this. I've got something better anyhow.”

Taylor turned, and strode across an strangely empty deck, to the door of his cabin. It was only then that Gib realized what had been transpiring during his exchange with the merchant. The thieves of Port Jozef were quick at their work and had pilfered nearly every thing that wasn't nailed down on the deck. Strangely, Taylor didn't seem even slightly phased as he trudged back from his cabin, dragging a long something behind him.

“Ah, there ye go. Me finest dog sled. I see ye've got the dog as well as a bird in yer hood. This'll take ye, quick as lightning, wherever ye need tae go. Weel, it's been a pleasure sir, but I think I must be gang. Me work is done here.”

With a quick shift in his steering mechanism, the man set his scow to reverse and began to puff his way out of the harbor. The calliope was silent now, but Taylor produced a fiddle and the pirates on the passing ships joined him in his song.

Tis long I've been a sailor
An' scoured the seven seas!
I've seen the dreadful serpents,
Heard the sirens in the breeze.

I've fought against the tempest,
An' I've seen the ocean's heart.
But I've never seen a finer ship
Then the good ship Apple-tart!

hi diddle de
diddle de
diddle day

diddle diddle de de
di diddle day

hey diddle hi diddle
diddle de di

ho diddle di-de
diddle diddle di


Gib watched the ship disappear around the coast before turning his attention to the sled. It didn't take long to hook it up and soon he was speeding across the tundra, headed for Orlon.
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





Ok, enough of that!
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Postby Formendacil » Mon Jan 31, 2005 6:41 pm

Grid: E-10
Location: Leaving Port Jozef

The Green Knight wrote:Anyway I'd better get going. Good luck.”

So, the men said their final goodbyes and parted company.


The following morning, they met Kendo at the docks. His ship was ready to sail.

"It's a heavy wind, all right," said Kendo, looking northward at the snowfilled wind rushing at them, "but not so heavy we can't sail. Put your things aboard. Then we'll negotiate payment."

Two hours later, and 50 gold marks poorer, they were out of Port Jozef's harbour, and sailing southwards.

"Now," Kendo could be heard to say under his breath, "let's hope we don't run into that sorceror again."

Elbadar glanced at Quorandis guiltily, but the Cavalier didn't see. He was standing look at the rails, looking southwards, his hair caught in the wind. The look on his face would have chilled the slavers to the bone, had they seen it.

The slavers didn't, but Kendo did.

"Your friend, he is very much troubled by the lady's capture?" he asked Elbadar.

"Aye," said the Dragon Master.

"I fear then, that he is in for a sore disappointment," said Kendo. "Few ladies in the care of Yuri Firetresses make it to Anka Dolour unharmed."
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Postby Loneranger » Mon Jan 31, 2005 7:26 pm

Grid K-22

Waves hit the side of a wondering boat as a man lay still and slowly rode closer and closer to Classic-LEGOland Territory. The boat suddenly stopped and forced the wondering man to move forward a little bit, the boat had hit land. The man got out of the boat and reached for his rusty Katana.

“Megablocks” He said, then he picked it up and threw it into the sea.

The man had a hood on, he slowly removed the hood revealing who he was. It was the Lone ranger, he had disappeared after the battle of Orion by escaping in a small boat. He was now walked through the hot sand with the sun shining on his back.

“It is not as cold here as it is in Orion.” He said while walking into the forest, the sun slowly disappeared behind him, it started to get darker as he went deeper into the forest.

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Postby Barbapple » Mon Jan 31, 2005 10:22 pm

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:
"The Tales Of Barbod by Brian Gibbons..." read the Lone Falcon outloud, "Brian Gibbons?"

Bjarn smiled back. "It seemed to fit."

G-7
Barbod soon grew bored of scripting, and left his parchment for a glass of ale and some chicken.
"Ah, my freinds," He said to a group of bulls and Falcons around him, "Drinks on me!"
A cheer followed, and soon after, the Lone Falcon sat next to him at the table.
"What have you been up to, Barbod?" He said with a cheery tone in his voice.
"Are you a betting man, Falkey-boy?" Asked Barbod
"What? Falkey-boy?"
"Are you a betting man, Lone Falcon?"
"I suppose so." He said hessitently, "Why?"
"I bet you," Barbod began, "I can hit the barkeep in the head with my fork."
"You've had too much to drink, havn't you barbod?" Asked the lone falcon, laughing
"Haha, no, my freind. Not nearly enough."
The lone Falcon Laughed.
"I'll bet you the most expensive hat in town." Barbod said.
"You'll never hit him. He's over 50 paces away."
"So take my bet."
"Alright." Said the Lone Falcon.
Barbod whiped the Untencil, and true as the sun rising, it struck the barkeep on the head.
"You owe me a hat." Barbod laughed.
"I suppose i do." Said the Falcon, chuckling at the Dumbfounded barkeep, looking for where the fork came from.
"It was me!" Barbod called to the barkeep. "I threw it. Terribley sorry, though, twas but a wadger between me and my buddy."
"Look, pal, I've had to deal with creeps all night." The barkeep said in a low tone, his voice ruggid.
"Maybe if you had a better attitude, you'd have less creeps." Barbod laughed, looking at the lone falcon.
The barkeep looked as if he'd strike barbod, but insted, walked away.
"it's getting late, Barbod." Said the Lone Falcon, "Perhaps we should head to our rests."
"Perhaps." Said Barbod, "Or we could have some fun."
"I don't like the sound of that...."Said the lone falcon.
"No, That is not what i mean. Lets dance!" Barbod smiled, and hopped onto the bar counter. The lone falcon followed, as he too had had too much to drink.

They started to stomp, clap, and dance around, and it wasn't too long before song broke out between the two freinds.

"Oh the grass is green,
And the Roses are red,
And that Bloodly falcon king,
Is better off dead,
And the Folks are freindly,
And they'll make you smile;
Your at the best place in the world,
Bull's Isle!" Barbod laughed, "Take it Falcon!"

"Oh the People all are happy,
And the lakes are fresh and clean,
And everybody dances,
And noone is mean,
In the summer there's no mosqueto's,
and the winter's are never cold,
Oh this Island is a nation,
Carved entirly from gold!"
"YAH" A cheer came from the crowd, and Barbod took over

"Oh, Bulls, who's army is so strong,
And Bulls, Who never do anything wrong,
And bulls, your island is so great,
And Bulls, Winning is your fate!"
"Woooooo-hooooo" Came from the crowd, as the two jumped off the counter.

"Any perticular reason we did that, Barbod?"
Barbod just smiled, and said, "Something makes me feel like partying tonight."
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Postby The Green Knight » Mon Jan 31, 2005 10:59 pm

Grid: G-10
Location: Majisto's Workshop

“YES! Yes, I think I've got it!” Lord Void was ecstatic. “Here Jarvick, let me run this by you.”

The stars are aligned this night.
Ngithrra has come between Tnkila and Gthonbm.
Their position is perfect for tonight's ritual.
Yes, for tonight I will delve into earth magic and raw mana.

“There, now that was recorded in 6-17-Tholgnorth by Vrlingh, high sage of the Goblin order. Now if I apply the same key to this text over here... Alright...ghriha hongr...yes, yes...mbolgo...yes, hmmmm, yes unhuh, gribhn bley... yes, yes, Yes! Alright, here goes...”

The spell to reverse the pot into under though wisely stood black smelling whistle rock truth... wonder... hat... cleaver.
Lord Void collapsed into his chair. “Ohhhhhh it's hopeless.” he moaned.

“Well,” said Jarvick. “Maybe we should take a brake.”

“A brake? No! I'll figure this out if it's the last thing I do! Let it never be said that Lord Void was outsmarted by a section of goblin text!”

The flustered wizard set back down and re-read the text. Maybe he was missing something. There had to be some method to this madness. Symbols and etchings crowded Lord Void's mind until he could hardly think. Was this what it was like to be a goblin?

“Depe ceala!”

Lord Void jumped, startled by the sudden outburst from Jarvick. “What?”

“Depe ceala.” Jarvick repeated. “I-I can't believe it. Look! Look here.” Jarvick practically sprinted over to Lord Void. “There is a legend. An ancient legend of a place called Depe ceala, an island in the deep sea. The birth place of all sea dragons. Many leagues have I traveled, searching for it's location. Many nights have I spent sleepless researching it in ancient tomes. I was this close to discovering it's location, before the BloodVaine war. Only being withheld by a span of codded script. I had nearly forgotten about it when just now I came across this.”

Jarvick threw his ragged book down on top of the one in front of Lord Void. “I don't understand.” said Lord Void. “I looks like a bunch of nonsense.”

“Of course,” Jarvick cried. “Don't you see... It's the same coded script! Now, look here.”

“Why that looks like Majisto's handwriting! Is that elvish?”

“It is! Actually it's a segment of second age elvish used by the elves once inhabiting the dark forest. But what's especially important is how it compares to the code. You see this symbol here and this letter here are almost identical. I think this code is made by taking the Ancient dialect and running it through the old elvish word structure!”

“And?” said Lord Void, failing to see how this helped them in their mission.

“Oh, don't you see? If I can take this same key and use it on my own transcripts, then I can finally discover the location of Depe ceala!”

“So how does that help us with your brother?”

“Oh.... I'm sorry, I guess I'm.... I'm getting distracted. Back to work, huh?”
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





Ok, enough of that!
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Mon Jan 31, 2005 11:12 pm

NOTE: this is a post that fits between my latest Barbod post and Brian's Barbod post


G-7
Barbod soon grew bored of scripting, and left his parchment for a glass of ale and some chicken.

"Lads," he said, "How about heading for a pub?"

"I wouldn't tempt it..." murmured the Lone Falcon, "I doubt we can even get out the door..."

"Then we'll head out the chimney!" cried Barbod, "Anything to get out of this place!"

"We can't just go anywhere..." cautioned Randolph, "We don't want any Durlass-loyals catching sight of you or Dordrot."

"There's a Rebel Resistance pub a few blocks down," volunteered Freena, "Let's go there, I'm sick of being cooped up here as well."

"Be sure to be back by dinner!" called the housewifey Mayriz from the kicthen, "Don't stay out late!"

"Yes, ma..." grinned Dordrot, as he had begun to call her.

It was soon discovered that they wouldn't have to go to the extreme of climbing up the chimney, instead one of the second-story side windows were pried open and the Lone Falcon, Barbod, Dordrot, Randolph, Freena and Vanderdious slipped into the snow.

"This way," Freena gestured. Soon they were in a common-looking inn where Barbod was greeted not with swords but grins and cheers.

"Ah, my freinds," Barbod said to everyone around him, "Drinks on me!"
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Tue Feb 01, 2005 1:19 am

O-22
Bull Docks

The King Bardiar was originally a Black Knight brig before the Lone Ranger had spent a large amount of gold to buy it for the Bulls. King Bardiar was the only ship besides the Rose Marie that had been bought for the Bull's small navy, the rest had been hijacked from various factions.

Jerral boarded the ship with three leaps up the warped gangplank and exchanged salutes with his first and second mates, Parna Phfleguer and Tay Pullwark. Parna was tall and slender, with a stream of wavy black hair flowing down her back and a seven-foot-long javelin always in her grasp. Tay, on the other had, was short and beefy, almost but not quite to the point of being overweight. He had a booming voice and usually acted a bosun, relaying the captain’s and first mate's orders in a giant baritone. He carried no weapons, preferring his own, club-like hands.

"Progress report, Phfleguer." prompted.

"Sir," Parna snapped to attention, her javelin perfectly parallel to her rigid body and perpendicular to the deck, "Ship's cargo has been loaded aboard and secured. Eight weeks worth of rations, plus ten sheets of spare sails, carpenter's equipment, and Cookie's pots and pans and such. Every man and woman is accounted for, tide will begin to recede in four minutes, by Merck's reckoning."

"Very good, let's depart then." grinned Jerral, "Pullwark, will you give the order?"

Tay smiled a mouthful of pearly teeth and filled his expansive lungs.

"Avast, ye water rats, 'eave to, an' cast off fore an' aft! You lubbers on shore, there, take down that megablocks gangplank before it falls! You, laddie, stop toying with that rope or I'll keelhaul ye..."

Jerral smiled. The soft-hearted Tay would never even give anyone, except a Black Flacon, the evil eye. Jerral moved up to the aft deck and breathed in to pungent sea scent and the King Bardiar scooped up wind in her expansive sails and plowed outward into the seemingly endless blue.

Let the journey begin, Jerral sighed to himself, Let the journey begin...
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Postby Devari » Tue Feb 01, 2005 7:15 am

R-8

Pain...

Darkness...

More pain...

Voices...

Light...

The broken body of Willem Blackcloak lay in the dungeon of Daggerfall Spire. The former leader of the Wolfpack had not been conscious since his last beating, three days prior. With the amount of blood lost, it was a wonder he was still alive.

It had been one month since Lady Ciroal had taken control of the Wolfpack... One month since some of his most trusted officers had l backstabbed him. He could only remember Graygon himself defending Willem.

Poor loyal Graygon... thought Willem, If he had only not fought, perhaps he would have had a chance to retain his rank...

And that was the only thought Willem could have before a guard's boot ended his current consciousness.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, he was shaken awake by a different guard.

"Roight, we'll be takin' you to the death-man aboot now." spat the guard.

Willem was roughly pulled to his feet by the chains on him. This would be it... With five guards waiting just outside the prison block, he didn't stand much of a chance of escape.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sunlight hit like a hammer upon poor Willem. One month in the darkness had made him sensitive to light. The jeers from the crowd did not help.

He was pulled roughly towards one of the nooses in the middle of the arena. The "Fair Lady" was going for a typical crowd pleaser - double execution of Blackcloak loyalists.

He did not struggle. He'd have only one chance if he was to make an escape, and he doubted if it would be possible.

As he was led up the steps, he saw Graygon a "noose over", so to speak. His mind started working... Perhaps they would have a chance.

"Haspat'Ceil'Sarkanorf" he whispered. A battered Graygon nodded slowly, a slight glimmer coming to his eye. While this may be the end, they certainly could go out with a bang.

As the Lady gave the order for execution, both Graygon and Willem swiftly released their hands from the bonds they had loosened. Willem quickly grabbed the weapon he had stolen from a guard, a simple hunting knife, and cut the bond around his neck. The response was similar from Graygon. Luckily both had managed to acquire a weapon.

As the guard swung around to face Willem, he suddenly felt a dagger sprout from his belly. Surprised, the guard looked down and saw the knife embedded in his stomach. As the guard toppled, Willem snatched his sword away.

A crossbow bolt whizzed past Willem's ear. Now he would have only seconds to get out of the arena.

Seeing the former leader's bold move the crowd started to panic. Soon a riot was forming as various faction leaders took advantage of the situation to gain support. Soon no attention was being payed to the escapees and the guards started to fire upon the rioters. The Lady, pale as a ghost, made a swift retreat. As the riot grew out of hand, guards and rioters fell like flies.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drenched in blood, new and days old, Willem ran through the forest. He ran as never before. He hoped Graygon had escaped, but both of them would know that waiting for each other would be death. And so he ran.

Willem Blackcloak, once leader of the Wolfpack, ran. And ran. Once he passed nearby a patrol, but the soldiers were too concerned about the suppressed arena riots that they did not uncover the dirty man. Judging by the climate of fear, this was a good thing - it appeared as if they would kill anything in sight.

Under cover of night, Willem entered (Q-Eight) the lands of the Dark Forest. He prayed that he would be safe, and traveled a ways within the border before finding a comfortable cave and taking a well needed rest...

His last thought as he slipped into the inviting arms of sleep was whether Graygon had made it.

He did not have good dreams that night.


(Wow, that was long...)
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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Tue Feb 01, 2005 2:52 pm

The water seemed to have turned to a dark blue, and waves started to break over the Deleos’ stern, depositing icy cold water on the deck. The snow had stopped, to be replaced only by freezing rain, pelting down from the sky like arrows.

Standing on the main deck, Girard reaized that he would not be able to ride this one out. Turning to two officers beside him he started giving commands.
“Horatiao – tell your men to start furling up those sails. Mr. Bush – get those hatches battened down. And you – Mr. Hopf, get two more men on the rudder." Girard’s last words were drowned out by another wave that broke over the stern, drenching the two men struggling at the tiller. The wind was picking up too, causing the three masts to groan and strain at their stays. Even as the captain looked up though, nearly half of the ship’s crew – some 80 men in all, were scrambling up the ratlines to get the sails in. Another wave broke over the stern, higher than the first. Mr. Bush came to Girard’s side again.
“The hatches are all secure sir. Shall I give orders to issue lifelines?”
“Not yet – wait until Horatiao’s men finish their job.”
“Yes sir.” With the simple acknowledgement the lieutenant walked away, bent over double against the wind to attend to his post.

Five minutes later the sails had been furled in, leaving the masts liking like trees, stipped of their foilage. The waves were getting even larger now, rising to some eighteen feet, their spray flying through the air and instantly freezing wherever it landed. The Deleos was following the sea, but in this weather she could not hold out much longer in the position she held. Climbing the short ladder that led up to the steering deck, Girard confronted the six men who were now struggling to keep the ship from whipping around. Before he could speak, another wave of ice cold water broke over them.

“On my command, turn this ship around to the starboard.” Girard yelled out. The wind seemed to dampen his voice to a whisper, but the men nodded in acknowledgement.

Another wave broke over and Girard saw his opportunity. He had to turn in one of the troughs and quickly too. Should another wave catch them on the side in this wind, the vessel would almost certainly capsize. Lifting his hand up, Girard waited for another breaker to wash over before he abruptly let it down shouting “Now!” The waves were well over thirty feet now, and the ship seemed to turn agonizingly slow, listing at an uncomfortable angle on the back of the wave. The starboard bow then hit the bottom of the trough causing the entire ship to shudder. Girard was now holding onto a rail for support, and his knuckles were turning white. The shadow of the next wave, bigger than ever started to loom over them - the ship was almost there, but not quite. A split second later it hit the bow, causing the vessel to swing back around to its side before it was half enveloped in the breaker. The warship emerged a second later, one of its masts brokem off halfway.

Girard closed his eyes and quietly sighed in resignation as he saw what was coming next. He had heard of such things, but never fully believed the stories that he heard. It was what mariners called a “rouge wave” – a literal wall of water some 90 feet high. It’s size dwarfed the ship, the Deleos’ mainmast was only sixty feet. The sailors at the tiller tried vainly to turn the ship, but it was futile, the force of the previous impact had knocked all the momentum out. The wave hit the ship directly on the side. All Girard felt was first a blow that felt like it came from a sledgehammer, a bone jarring chill, and then all went black before his eyes.
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

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Postby Formendacil » Tue Mar 01, 2005 7:04 pm

The Classic-Castle Roleplay is Continued in this thread. Enjoy!

~Michael A. Joosten - Gaming Moderator~
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