Classic-Castle Roleplay: February 2005

[Commander Redbeard]

Location: The Neverwood

Bjarn was flabbergasted. More people dropping in? It just was not right. This strange knight had, as his first act, tried to turn the members of the Fellowship against each other!

Anardan returned to the remains of the sled. Taking an axe, he shattered the pikes at the bottom of the pit, then slid down the side. He cut splints for the injured men, and tossed them up to Voolmark, who tied them on. Taking a spare cloak from a bundle, Anardan and Aros fashioned a stretcher for Reno. All of the supplies they could carry were loaded into the backframes. The rest were left with the shattered sled in the pit.

The sleet quickly turned to snow, wet snow, coming down harder then ever. The company found refuge in a copse of spruce, taking shelter under the thick branches. Only then, did they notice.

Peregal had disappeared.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Jerral nodded in satisfaction. Now all they could do was wait until they reached the mainland.

G-16

It was dusk on the sixteenth day of the voyage and Captain Jerral was in his quarters. Suddenly a shout roused him from his light dose. In an instant he was up, straightening his coat and out the door. He did an about turn and climbed his way to the helm with five sharp leaps.

"Report, Ms. Phfleguer!" ordered Jerral formally.

"Sir!" Parna Phfleguer became rigid as a board, saluted and then snapped out, "Carry reports flotsam ahead, five degrees to port!"

"Debris from a ship?"

"Not known sir, not yet."

"Very good. Report when you have an update."

"Aye-aye, cap'n."


An hour later, as the King Bardiar, alias the Little Lion, skimmed through the waves, Carry the lookout suddenly cried out, "Icebergs ho!"

Phfleguer's did a double take and ordered, "McSorenly, get up them riggin' and confirm!"

"Aye!" affirmed the young Peter McSorenly, and he flew up the rigging like a monkey. A second later, the shout "Icebergs confirmed, sir! Five or six at least!"

Phfleguer was befuddles. Icebergs? True, it was the middle of winter, but she had never heard of icebergs past Latitude 10.

"Bosun! Rouse the captain immediately!"

"Aye!"

Within seconds Jerral was on deck.

"Report!"

"Icebergs, and good many of them, too. Just ahead!"

"Icebergs, this far south? Are you sure the lookout hasn't fallen a little to deep in the grog barrel."

Phfleguer shook her heard, send manes of sleek black hair flying. "I had it confirmed, cap'n. Icebergs it is."

"Hurm."

Jerral contemplated this for a minute, then said, "Maintain speed and double the lookouts."

"Aye cap'n."

But Phfleguer's response had been just a little hesitant. She had been a convert Bull, originally Royal and resident of Kingston. She knew icebergs, and their uncanny habit of zeroing in on hapless ships. But she did not complain, and carried out Jerral's orders.

Then the fog came in.

It was no normal fog. It seems to stick to the ship and stay with it, refusing to clear despite the curses of the crew, especially the lookouts.

Peter McSorenly had been stationed at the very front of the King Bardiar, near the figurehead. He felt exhilarated. He was at the very front of the most powerful ship in King Barbod's navy, and was skimming over the still water at nearly fifteen knots. The fog condensed on his face and arms, he felt as if he was flying through a cloud.

Suddenly delirious with excitement, Peter let out a whoop and shouted "I'm the king of the world!" at the same moment Carry the lookout screamed, "ICEBERG DEAD AHEAD!"

Crunch.

The impact between the drifting ton of block of ice and the wooden hull of the ship was bone-rattling. It felt as if an earthquake had erupted upon the deck. Carry the lookout was tossed from the topmost crow's nest and hit the deck with enough force to batter down a castle door. Peter was thrown overboard, and was nearly keel-hauled, but was saved when his foot snagged on a line. Tay Pullwark, belowdeck, was one of the first to drown when the frigid water surged through the foot wide gash in the hull and swallowed them whole.

Jerral crash out of his cabin, his face pale, swearing, "What the bloody tyco megablok --"

"We hit a bloody iceberg at top speed!" cried Parna Phfleguer, desperately pulling the ship round to starboard, "We're sinking!"

"This this is unsinkable!" countered Jerral.

"Tell that to the bloody iceberg!"

She's right Jerral knew, and the ship's sink was all my fault...if only I had ordered a trimming of the sails...

"Phfleguer!" he shouted, coming to his senses, "Where are we headed?"

"To Glondur!" she cried, then added, "I hope..."

[Sir Drake]

Grid: O-6
Location: Highway to Cape Fang

It was now allready an hour since they had put up their ambush, and there still wasn't a sign of the enemy.

"Are you sure they're comin'?" a soldier asked Leonidas.
"I'm sure they will come, Archidamus said so, so why would he lie?"
"I guess you're right, let's wait a little more"

"Sir, I can see them comin', should I give the sign to attack?" Leonidas asked Swift.
"Yes, wait on my command, NOW!"

Suddenly, arrows fletched out of the treeline onto the enemy. Almost none of the arrows missed their goals. The enemy who was surprised by this began to panic, but their superiors tried to calm them.

"Over to swords!!" Swift yelled.

All soldiers putted away their bow and grabbed their sword and stormed on the enemy.

"Charge!!!"

Swift, Fraun, Radjar, Aaylah, Strider and the others clashed onto the enemy, it was a fierce battle and both sides fought bravely.
Swift was feeling great, he always felt great when he could fight, thanks to his superior speed and battle experience he could easily handle multiply enemies. He killed the one after the other.
Radjar was doing fine to, as well as the others.
After an hour of fighting, most of the enemies were killed and didn't form a threat anymore.

"How many casualties?" Leonidas asked a corporal.
"We've lost only fifteen soldiers, sir"
"Fine then, thanks for sharing me the numbers"

"This was a fine battle" Swift said while cleaning his swords.
"Aye" Strider added.
"Here's a captain we've captured sir, what should we do with him?" Leonidas said with a prisoner in his hand.

It was an older man, probably forty or something like that. He had long gray hair that allmost look like silver that was combed in a ponytail. He wore a hardleatherbody with the Wolf Pack sign on it but with two flames crossing it.

Swift came a bit closer, he thought he now this man, but he didn't seem to remember.
"Arrgh, Swift, I should've know it would be you to lead this revolt against us" the man said.
"We are revolting, then how do you call the thing that Ciroal did?"
The man couldn't seem to find an answer to this and just whispered:"Tyco"

Then Swift remebered this man's face, but he hoped he was wrong, this just couldn't be him.

"Show me your hand" Swift ordered "your left hand"
"How can I show it if I'm BOUND?!!" the captain yelled.
"Untie him"
"What?"
"You heard me, untie him"

Leonidas didn't like this, but he did what Swift said and released the mand from his ropes.

"Ah, much better" the man said rubbing his wrists.
"Now show me your left hand..."
"Why should I?" he said and in a splitsec. he had allready took Leonidas' sword.

"What the?" Leonidas said very surprised "how did he do that?"

"So,...,hey uncle" Swift said with a groan on his face.

[TheOrk]

Grid J-10 Orion sewers

For the past hour Valric and his three companions had been stumbling around under the city streets.
“Can’t we just wait to the blinkin’ thing is above ground?” Asked one of the three soldiers.
Valric turned to him, “You saw the morgue. At least twenty people got ripped apart by the thing. Everytime aparently it comes out once to kill then dissapears down ‘ere again. Besides you volenteered.” Said Valric chuckling at the people smaller then him.
Most of the tunnels in the sewer system were quite cramped. Valric could barley fit in most passages. They relied on the sewer grates for light. However most of those were clogged with snow. Valric had little doubt in his mind that if he turned his back on his three “allies” they would defenitly bolt for the nearest exit. Their torch light was only enough to see the outlines of each other. For all they knew what ever they were hunting could have brushed right past them.
“Almost every other city in Dametreos just leaves their “buisness” in the streets. What is the blinkin’ point of ‘avin these ruddy sewers anyway?” Asked the soldier again.
Valric frowned, he knew why. Once without paying attention he had stepped on a steaming pile of the stuff the gong farmers farmed, it had gone up to his knee.
“Just be thankful laddie!” Muttered Valric.
Valric was armed with his sword. The soldier who kept on complaining had a crossbow, the other two a spear and sword.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sir Weigraf turned a corner, he saw the dim torches in the gloom. He could see in the sewer as well as he could day. He licked his lips in anticipation for what was to come. Even a hundred yards a way in the dark he could make out everyone of them.
All had there backs turned, the closest had his hand wrapped around his sword hilt soo hard he had cut off circulation. Behind him the other two men were whispering to each other shakily. Weigraf could taste their fear. But further down the passage the lead figure was the only thing that was cause for concern. He believed he had nothing to fear, that and Weigraf sensed something. He must have that one…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Valric got that feeling again, the thing that they were hunting was something more then a wild animal. Somthing more sinister. What ever it was it was behind them. A blood curdling screech filled the air, ending in a gurgle. Valric whirled around sword drawn...

[The Green Knight]

It was a mistake. As soon as Dale was within the sword, so was Brugs, and the lethal weapon was off like a firecracker, swerving drunkenly down the street, half of it searching for victims, the other trying to prevent murder. It was only a matter of time before the first of many screams pierced the black night.

Grid J-10
Location: The Gold Wallow Inn.

Jos was feeling better. After over a month of rest he was finally able to walk around. He had to be careful not to overexert himself though, for fear of the veins breaking out afresh.

At this particular moment he was seated at the bar in the lower level of the inn, conversing with Biirn, the innkeeper.

“I like your proposal.” Said the deep throated man. “We could use a good baker around here. And it would be convenient for you as well in your current condition.”

“Excellent!” Jos said, pleased with the arrangement. “I might also mention my knowledge of jams. You might remember the stir last year about Dragonberry jam.”

“Dragonber..? You don’t mean that was you?”

“Oh but of course.” Jos responded.

“Well my friend, I should like to shake your han—“

Just then Biirn was interrupted by a new customer calling for ale.

“A flagon of your thickest brew, bartender. Double quick!”

The young man sat down next to Jos. His pale eyes, starring blankly at the polished counter. Jos stared too, but not at the counter. The man was quite a sight. His clothes were askew and his face bore the look of someone afflicted with a great tragedy. Indeed, he looked as though at any moment he would crumble from sorrow.

“There you are.” Said Biirn, slapping a large mug in front of the grief stricken man. “Say, you look awful. What’s your affliction, lad?”

The young man took a long swallow and then answered. “Oh it’s me Milly. Me poor, poor Milly. And to think it was only the other day that I saw her at the market. Oh, and now…now she’s gone!”

With this the man collapsed into a bout of uncontrollable weeping that lasted for a good while.

“They say,” the man began when he came, at last out of his stupor. “They say it started here. That dreadful weapon with a mind of its own. But why her? Why oh God, why? She was on her way home that night you know. They say she was there late studying. Studying for her exam. The exam she would never take.”

“Ah I’m sorry lad. We’ve all heard of the massacre last night. A terrible thing to be sure. The cavaliers are still searching for the demon that did it. And it is true that the strangeness did start in this tavern. Some called it black magic and others called it a demon. I don’t know what it was but I know it was some megabloks foreigners who brought the cursed thing in.

“It wasn’t their fault!” Jos said in defense of his friends.

“What do you know?” said the man, staring at Jos with his wide, grieving eyes. “Are you a friend of theirs? Do you know what was behind this?”

“Now, now.” said Biirn. “I’ve already questioned Jos on the matter and he said he didn’t know anything.”

It was true. Jos hadn’t known anything about the mishap. But that was before the letter. The letter from Logen had arrived just that morning, detailing all that had happened and giving an explanation for their sudden disappearance.

Now Jos found he could hardly bear it. The thought of what Dale was going through. The sight of this miserable man and the knowledge that he was only one in an untold number of others who were likely going through the same thing. He had to do something. Jos knew it.

But what could he do? What could one man do?

At that moment, the doors of the inn were flung open, as a dark cloaked man with a forestman look entered the inn.

“So, I hear there’s some trouble with a demon in these parts.”

It was Keavur. A spear at his side and a storm in his eyes.

[Barbapple]

Markus started to curse again, but all who heard him were the nest of rats in the corner.

Days had passed, and Markus had done little. It was very hard to figure a way out. BUt as the days went bby, Markus' heavy gaurd got lighter.
He noticed the watch was lightened. It went from four gaurds to three. Then down to two. Finally, he had one gaurd on constent watch, and one that brought his meals. It was during one of the meal times that markus made his move.
"Feed time, pig." Said the gaurd bearing bread, sliding the plate threw whole in the bottom of the cell. It was at this point that Markus sprang into action.
He lunged down, reaching threw the cell's bars to grab the food-bearer by the neck of his shirt and pulling hard. The gaurds head smashed into the bars of the cell, causing him to fall, unconcious.
"Hey!" Said the other gaurd, jabbing his spear threw the bars in an attempt to kill Markus.
Markus grabbed the shaft of the sear and pushed it sideways. The wooden shaft broke, and the spearhead was left in the hands of the barbarrian, Markus.
He threw hard, and the blade peirced the neck of the gaurd, and he fell. Reaching as far as he could, markus grabbed the keys from the gaurds belt.
In almost no time at all, markus had exited the cell, and switched garbs with one of the gaurds.
Now it was just a matter of sneaking out...

[The Green Knight]

The sleet quickly turned to snow, wet snow, coming down harder then ever. The company found refuge in a copse of spruce, taking shelter under the thick branches. Only then, did they notice.

Peregal had disappeared.

Location: The Neverwood
“Hey now!” said sir Dractor. “Where’s that snippy legolander gotten off to?”

“I don’t know.” said Bjarn. “But we can’t go looking for him now. The storms getting worse and we need to get to shelter.”

No one argued. The fellowship had already formed up an extensive dislike for the knight. And Gib, who knew he ought to help his brother, kept silent as well. Doubting that he could convince them to search for the wayward baron.

“There, I’ve got it!” Aros cried, securing the last strap on the littler for Gib. “Here, help me hoist him onto it.”

Gib grunted in pain as they set him down on the sling. And immediately they set out for the ruins.

The clouds hung dark over the Neverwood. Cutting off any light that might have penetrated through the leaves. The wind whistled hauntingly through the trees, like a school of sirens or a barrow of ghosts. And now and then, there would be a crack of thunder and the forest would brighten for an instant, with a light like the noon day sun.

Gib tried to guide them, but Jackal was the one really guiding the way. They trudged on, time seeming to distort around them. How long had they been walking? Surely they had passed a mile by now.

In the end the fellowship didn’t realize they had arrived until they were right in among the ruins. A flash of lightning illuminated the clearing for an instant, and revealed in the moment, the dark gray spires and crumbled towers of the Neverwood castle. The snowflakes frozen in air. The broken stones of the courtyard underfoot. And everywhere shadows fled from view. Strange and mystical it looked. And yet, dangerous.

“Quick, to that tower on the left!” Gib called through the whirling snow. The storm was worse in the clearing. And the fellowship turned, heading for the tower they had seen moments ago.

[lemon_squeezer2]

It was nearly two weeks after the 1st fleet was supposed to launch its invasion. There was no news of anything occurring though. Durlass had to assume the worst. He felt like giving up. The rotten snow, the rotten economy, and his God-forsaken rotten luck.

Suddenly, the doors to his office burst open. A government official staggered in, his clothing torn and his face cut. Standing up in surprise, Durlass addressed him.
“What the Megablocks is going on? What happened to you?”
Gasping, the man grasped the noble’s desk. “A mob. It’s an all out riot. They are advancing on the spire this moment.”

Durlass jumped up from his chair and rushed out the door, rudely pushing the wounded man to the ground as he went. The halls were filled with frantic clerks, accountants and government officials. At the sight of the Marquis with his red robes and precisely cut goatee and mustache, they backed away, making a futile effort to look organized. The Marquis turned a corner and entered though a door that had “Military Operations” inscribed on it. Inside he found the man he was looking for.

“We have a situation Cimon. Break out the cavilers.”

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Gasping, the man grasped the noble’s desk. “A mob. It’s an all out riot. They are advancing on the spire this moment.”

G-7
Falconis City

The Lone Falcon was sleeping when suddenly Freena burst into his room and gasped out, "Sir!".

The Lone Falcon jumped and said, "Yes, what?"

"There's a mob heading for the Falcon Spire!" babbled Freena, shaking fluffy snow out of her hair.

"A mob, lead my who?" snapped the Lone Falcon, throwing on his tunic and donning his black flared helm.

"I dunno my lord, I just rushed back here the moment I saw them form. I didn't see any Rebels among them, just lots of simple townsfolk!"

Freena and the Lone Falcon rushed into the main room, where they found Vanderdious hastily applying makeup to his face.

"Don't trouble yerself, your gov'ner'ship!" said Vanderdious, "We don't want ye to freeze out there. I'll go and see what's up."

"Very good," nodded the Lone Falcon.

As the master of masks donned a cowl and exited, Barbod muttered something under his breath.

"What is it, Lord Barbod?" queried Randolph.

"I'm sick and tired of waiting about here...I want to see some action...a Bull isn't meant to hide..."

The Lone Falcon laid his hand on the Bull King's shoulder.

"Your time will come, Barbod. Things are stirring in Falconis City, the populace is turning agaisnt Durlass and his cronies. The Rebels' time will come, as will the Bulls. We just need to wait a while longer."

[Formendacil]

Grid: H-21
Location: Slave Markets, Anka Dolour.

Their hoods up, and cloaks gathered tightly, Elbadar and Quorandis slipped into the market square. At the far end, and auctioneer could be heard calling out the values of the "wares", and responding to bids from the crowd.

"And now, gentlemen, I present to you a rare delicacy, the second offering from the House of Yuri Firetresses. We have here a young man, not only a fit warrior with the muscles of an ox and the brain of a mouse, but a finely pedigreed lineage to boot. Yuri Firetresses is pleased to offer for your purchase the last Heir of the House of Falconensis, a man who once held the reins of power in the city of Barleyburg, and the obeisance of all the blue-armoured Eastern Knight's Kingdomers. Asking as an opening bid 500 gold marks! Do I hear five hundred gold marks??"

"It's Jayko!" breathed Elbadar to Quorandis, who nodded.

"Elwen will be around here somewhere."

No one was bidding on Jayko.

"Don't be ridiculous!" called one of the men in the crowd. "No Rainbow Knight is worth 500 marks!"

"Come now, gentlemen!" said the auctioneer. "There is a price on this man's head from Danner Violess for no less than 500 gold marks! Any man who purchases him is guaranteed this money back. Guaranteed!!!"

"Fifty gold marks," called Quorandis. "He's no good for hard labour. What if Violess changes his mind?"

"Fifty gold marks!" called the auctioneer. "That is pathetic! Do I hear anything higher?" But no one was interested.

"I've got all the Rainbows I need," grumbled a man behind Elbadar. "Let's get on with this!"

"Nothing? Nothing?" pleaded the auctioneer. He turned to Yuri Firetresses, who stood out of the way behind the platform. "Do you accept fifty gold marks, milord?"

"It's more than he's worth, in actual fact," said Firetresses. "And I'm not making the trip to Barleyburg just to collect from Violess. Let this man have him."

"Sold for fifty gold marks!" cried the auctioneer. Quorandis handed over what was almost all the money remaining to him, while Elbadar led Jayko down.

Jayko looked at his new owners with trepidation. Then one lowered his hood, and Jayko felt a surge of panic. The angry face of Bernard Quorandis was glaring at him.

"All right, Falconensis," said Quorandis, grabbing Jayko's dirty tunic. "Where. Is. Elwen?"

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

"We hit a bloody iceberg at top speed!" cried Parna Phfleguer, desperately pulling the ship round to starboard, "We're sinking!"

"This this is unsinkable!" countered Jerral.

"Tell that to the bloody iceberg!"

She's right Jerral knew, and the ship's sink was all my fault...if only I had ordered a trimming of the sails...

"Phfleguer!" he shouted, coming to his senses, "Where are we headed?"

"To Glondur!" she cried, then added, "I hope..."

G-14
The Black Knight port city of Glondur

Michaels had thought he had seen everything in his twenty-four years as harbormaster, but when the Black Knight ship labeled the Little Lion sailed into Glodur with water nearly up to her gunwales, he knew this one took the cake.

The ship had been literally minutes away from scuttling and blocking half the harbor with it's hulk, but with every stitch of sail on her she almost made it to Dock 13 before her fat bottom ground into the silt of Scaleback Bay. At least she wasn't in to main water lanes, and therefore wasn't a navigational hazard.

Michaels sent out a rowboat to engage the ship, and was warmly greeted by men and women pale with nervousness and relief. The Little Lion's four lifeboats were lowered and most of the crew came ashore to refresh themselves and seek out someone skilled enough to raise and repair the Little Lion while a skeleton crew tied up the sails and anchored the ship to secure it completely.

After making sure the ship wouldn't heave to and capsize, Michaels confronted the captain.

"Captain Jerral Burnhart, is it? Of the ship Little Lion?"

Jerral nodded. "That's me, harbormaster."

"You know it will cost you to keep your ship, er, located near Dock 13 until you successfully raise her."

"I understand completely, harbormaster. Will this suffice for the week?"

Jerral handed over a purse full of think Black Knight currency.

Michaels nodded gratefully. He usually had to barter, argue, threaten and otherwise convince shipmasters to pay the required fee. It was nice to have someone agreeable once in a while.

"Yes sir, thank you sir. I must give you my grievances on the state of your ship. Most unfortunate. What, may I ask, scuttled her?"

Jerral thought about saying 'I did', for the guilt still wracked him, but he said, "A tyco iceberg ripping open the entire port bow. We lost five men to drowning, and two were thrown from the rigging."

Michaels made sympathetic noises. "Aye, megabloks those icebergs. I've never, ever seen them this far south. Tyco bad luck."

"Aye." Jerral agree, "Would ye happen to know a good carpenter or shipwright? Someone who could raise the Little Lion and get her all patched up?"

Michaels nodded. "I know plenty o' both, most of 'em fine woodworks. You'll have trouble raising her, though. Grounding in a deep bay is nothing like grounding her ashore a beach. I'd reckon you'd have to use a cofferdam, and one big enough to surround the Little Lion will cost a pretty penny, I'm sure."

"Shifty-brick." muttered Jerral. He thanked Michaels and then found Parna Phfleguer.

"Phfleguer, you'll be in charge of the King Ba -- er -- the Little Lion until I return with news about Lord Barbod. My party might be a long while, two months or more. The harbormaster suggested a cofferdam to drain the ship -- try to find something cheaper."

"Who are you taking, Cap'n?"

"Only a dozen or so, the ones who blend in the most and don't look like they've got 'Bull' written all over them."

"Aye sir. The --er-- Little Lion will be afloat and all by the time ye return."

"I do hope so, Phfleguer."

Jerral shook hands with his first mate and then signaled to the undercover Bulls he had selected.

"Alright lads, let's be off..."

[lemon_squeezer2]

The Black Falcon cavilers was primarily made up of the nobility – usually the cream of the crop. While Durlass did not realize it, they were the only military force he had. Had he attempted to call out the regular garrison he would have found his orders refused – Martin had planned for that contingency and every regular soldier in the city answered only to him. In fact, it was many of these soldiers who had started the riot and many were intermingled in the crowd, keeping the momentum going.

As of now, the mob was attempting to break down the massive wooden doors that served as the main gateway into the government superstructure. Even though the snow was some eleven feet deep, the doors were twice that height. Again and again the hungry and angry townspeople lunged at the gate using a tree uprooted from the park as a battering ram. Twenty minutes later, when the gates swung open, a nasty surprise met them. Fifty cavilers, in full military dress complete with their distinctive tall fur hats confronted them. Before the crowd could react, the commander flashed out his saber and called for a charge.

The result was predictable. The attack that Durlass had ordered was little more than a massacre. From the vantage of a third story window, Martin was taken by surprise. This was a measure he had not prepared for, but yet… Yes. Let Durlass have his way. In fact, things could not have worked any better. Little did the general know that across the street several others were looking on with fascinated horror as the crowd dispersed leaving thirty-two dead bodies in the crimson snow.

“In all my days…” The Lone Falcon trailed off as the sreams of the paniced crowd drifted up to his ears.
Randolph looked on the scene shaking his head. “Riots do not occur spontaneously. Someone besides ourselves has a grudge against the current government. I have a feeling this is a mere prelude.”

In some ways, Randolph was right.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

“In all my days…” The Lone Falcon trailed off.
Randolph looked on the scene shaking his head. “Riots do not occur spontaneously. Someone besides ourselves has a grudge against the current government. I have a feeling this is a mere prelude.”

In some ways, Randolph was right.

G-7

The Lone Falcon nodded sadly, and turned away from the window. Even Barbod was sickened by the sight.

"Bloody...Falcons!" he spat out in shock, "Murdering their own...bloody...megabloks..."

Dordrot nodded. "Bloody Falcons..."

The door burst open and Vanderdious fell in, his wig crooked and makeup smeared. The was a gash across his forehead, but he looked for faint from shock than pain.

"Good Chodan!" gasped Mayriz, and dashed back into the kitchen to warm water. Dordrot and Randolph rush forward and helped Vanderdious to a chair.

"What happened?" snapped the Lone Falcon, his own face pale, "Did the Black Falcon cavilers do that to you?"

"Wot?" slured Vanderdious, "Er- no. Bloody well banged my 'ead 'gaisnt a wall when those tyco knights charged. Luckily I 'twas near the back...tyco Durlass..."

Mayriz entered and dabbed at the gasp with a warm cloth.

"Did you figure out who was leading the mob?" asked Randolph.

"Dunno...lots of people were shouting something about a Martin fellow..." murmured Vanderdious.

Randolph raised his eyebrows, but did not say anything. Instead he turned away, his brow furrowed.

[Formendacil]

Grid: H-21
Location: Slave Markets, Anka Dolour.

Jayko looked at his new owners with trepidation. Then one lowered his hood, and Jayko felt a surge of panic. The angry face of Bernard Quorandis was glaring at him.

"All right, Falconensis," said Quorandis, grabbing Jayko's dirty tunic. "Where. Is. Elwen?"

"E-e-e-lwen?" stuttered Jayko. "She.. uh.. she.. um.. that is to say she..." He broke off entirely when he dared glance up at Quorandis' face.

"She WHAT?" he asked emphatically.

"She was sold right before me," said Jayko desperately. "To one of Firetresses' men. She was too worn out to fetch a good price."

"And where is this man now?" asked Quorandis.

"He... uh... took her and went towards the Five Stenches Inn," said Jayko. "I doubt they've quite made it there yet."

"They never will if I have a say in the matter," said Quorandis, who feared the worst for Elwen in the possession of any of the slavers. Jayko shivered. Quorandis, although not wearing any of his Cavalier plate armour, or helm, or shield, and only a chainmail jerkin, looked far more terrifying than he ever had on the battlefield against the Falcons or Dragon Masters.

"Lead the way!" said Quorandis.

"But I don't know the way!" cried Jayko in a near-wail. "I only heard them as they left."

"I'll ask someone," said Elbadar, before Quorandis frightened Jayko any further.

"This way," he called a couple seconds later, pointing up a street.

They took off like all the megabloks in Hades were after them.

[Commander Redbeard]

Location: Ruins in the depths of the Neverwood

The ruins were eerie, but the decimated stone walls of the ancient fortress kept the howling winds of the snowstorm at bay. In a dry corner, the Fellowship lit a small fire which they huddled around, their sodden clothes drying off.

Bjarn reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out the scroll Hans had presented them at the archives of Orion. He laid it out on a stone block, the others crowding around as Bjarn struggled to read it in the flickering firelight.

"These ruins are plotted on the map that Hans compiled for us... Tyco, we're nearer the center of the Neverwood then I could have guessed. Nobody has ever gone much deeper than here into the forest and returned. Everything further than this on the map is blank."

Bjarn was correct. Beyond the dot that marked the ruins, a blank stretch of parchment was unmarred by anything but a small drawing of a dragon captioned in Daner's spidery handwriting;Here Be Monsters.

Bjarn offeren a forced chuckle, staring at the parchment that could no longer offer them any aid.

"Hopefully the monsters we meen won't be much worse than Daner's drawing."

Nobody had the heart to laugh.