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Classic-Castle Roleplay: March 2005

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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Thu Mar 31, 2005 4:10 am

Randolph was started from his sleep. There he heard it – footsteps. In the dark recesses of the underground cave system someone was coming. The Falcon loosened his sword as the noise came closer. It was pitch black but there it was – a flicker of light coming around the corner. The former officer breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the voice – it was Drakko.
“It’s alright Randolph – I’ve just come to pay a visit.”
Randolph lit his lantern.
“Really now – you are too paranoid. I doubt anyone would find you down here.”
Lighting another, he turned to Drakko shaking his head. “If I’m being tracked by the FSS, I can’t be paranoid enough. You know how they operate Drakko – they’re ruthless – utterly ruthless. If I’m on their hit list, they will do anything – anything to have my head.”
Drakko sat down on a convenient rock. “Well, you’re right on one thing. The FSS is after you. I saw them raid the safe house almost two hours ago.”
Randolph sat down opposite of the Falcon noble. “What of the others then?”
“If everything works out alright, we’ll all settle down here for awhile. I really can’t think of a better place to hide.”

The soldier reached down to a small sack and pulled out two apples, tossing one to Drakko. “You know – I was thinking last night. When Martin is brought down, what are we to do? Set up another king? I certainly wouldn’t. That’s too much power in the hands of one man.”

Drakko bit into the fruit. “But – that’s the way it has always been. That is, with some sort of regulating body, it should be all right. Look at Falconis XXV – perhaps one of the greatest monarchs we’ve ever had – power doesn’t corrupt all you know.”
Randolph shot back. “It is still to much. And look what we are left with when there is a vacancy – now we are on the verge of a despotism like the Dragon Masters. Durlass wrenched power from Hindrich and now Martin has done the same. How do we know what will happen if the resistance gains control? Somebody will cave in, proclaim himself king, and regardless if he is good or bad, the whole cycle starts over again.”

“Then what would you propose? Do you have any better ideas?” Drakko seemed irritated. Randolph suspected it was due to his position in the nobility.
“A representative body of some sort – it can’t be the nobility – too easily corrupted. No offence to you of course.”
“None taken.” Drakko still looked uneasily at Randolph.
“Neither can it be the lower classes. A mob cannot be allowed to rule a country. No, the middle classes, the burgesses. It would be perfect – a group from the trader’s guild could handle economic affairs, a combined group of all other guilds could work on domestic affairs, and a small core group of landowners could work on foreign policy.”
Drakko contemplated Randolph’s idea. “I suppose that could work, but a strong ruler is still needed – someone to tie it all together so your different groups would not turn on each other.”

“Who then? Surely not Hindrich or any other member of the Royal family.”
“No – Hindrich has actually been missing for well over a month – it has been suspected he has been done away with somehow or other.”
“So that is the end of the Hohenzollern dynasty?”
Drakko smiled. “Actually, no. There is one surviving member. The nephew of Hindrich.”

Randolph gagged on his apple. “What? What the Megablocks are you talking about? A nephew?”
“Yes – a nephew. You do know that Falconis had two wives – no?”
“I have heard of such a thing…” Randolph was still trying to regain his composure.
“Well, his first wife had – an affair let’s say. She became pregnant and was disowned along with her daughter. That daughter in turn had a son named Graygon. I met him once but I only found out his true roots barely a month ago – by accident really.”
“And what – you want to go find this Graygon character? Why? Is it even worth it? What kind of ruler would he make?”
“Actually, not a bad one I should think. Also, I think you should be the one to do it.”
Randolph was tired enough as it was, and this only fired him up more.
Me? You want me to go find this- this Graygon of yours? Where is he anyway?”
Drakko looked thoughtful. “I’m not sure really, but I’m pretty certain he is either on the Fell isle or the East coast of Dameteros. He considers himself a Wolfpack member, so you might have some luck there. Besides – you said yourself that your neck is on the line as long as you remain here, so why not? You really don’t have much to loose.”

Randolph tossed the core from his apple into a convenient dark corner. “I suppose you’re right. When should I start?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Not at all –anything to get out of this Tyco cave I suppose. I still don’t like it though. You say he thinks of himself as a Wolfpack? They are nothing then barbarians.”
Drakko shook his head. “Not all. They might be somewhat – backwards culturally, but a man with qualities that Graygon has is hard to find. You’ll see when you meet him.”
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Postby The Green Knight » Thu Mar 31, 2005 5:42 pm


On the road again. Caimlin had barely gotten back to Dragonar and he was already back on the road. The last week had been spent in the readying of troops and the gathering of supplies. And now they were finally underway. A message of peace had been sent to king Sirion, along with a wagon of gold as a token of the Dragon Masters goodwill. Their own gold, provided for the purchase and construction of the three ships, was carried in a trio of wagons halfway through the procession. And what a procession it was. Three hundred Dragon Masters and one dragon, all in a long line, faces turned east.

Caimlin was pleased with his assignment and excited at the prospect of the chance to use the skills he’d learned on the Dragon Master isle. But still, it would be long before he reached the sea and in the meanwhile he’d have plenty of time to occupy with reading.

Reaching into his sack, Caimlin pulled out the book Jarvick had given him. He leaned back against the reigns of his Dragon and began. Chapter two “The rise of the Classic Empire”….
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Thu Mar 31, 2005 5:55 pm


It had been a week since the Fellowship Of The Pendants had returned to Drullen Bell Keep. It had been a week full of good food, long tells and soft beds. But already, Aros was feeling the call of the road. So one morning, he got up early and padded down to the larder, intent on filling a backpack full of food for his impending journey. However, his plans were interrupted when he found he was not alone. Reno, too, was in the larder, sprawled across a pile of sacking, munching on an apple.

“What are you doing down here?” demanded Aros, jumping back with surprise.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Reno replied mildly, his eyebrows raised, “Why are you down here, and what’s with the pack?”


“Urge to wander getting at you?” Reno prompted knowingly.

“Right. Yeah.”

Aros took an apple and flung himself down by his brother.

“That’s it exactly, Reno. The urge to wander. I’ve had it all my life.”

“So did I…until I met Shainya.” A dreamy look came into Reno’s eyes.

Aros smiled. “Aye…but I’ve found no gal yet, so the road keeps calling.”

“Don’t go.” said Reno suddenly, “At least, not yet. Wait a few days. Please.”

Aros looked at Reno. “Whatever for?”

Reno smiled. “Just wait. I want you to be there.”

Then Reno got up and left.


Spring. Shainya loved spring. The time of year when the world seemed born anew. Life springs forth, from the ground, from the sea, from the air. Everywhere there was life. Flowers bloomed, birds sang, and the wind rustled through the trees. Yes. At last, Dametreos was healing. Healing from pain. Healing from strife. Healing from war. Healing from chill. Dametreos was healing. Shainya loved spring.

Every day of spring was too good to spend indoors. Every day, Shainya was outside, in the forest, in the meadows, in the streams, simply enjoying life. Sometimes she climbed. Sometimes she swam. Sometimes she just lay in the grass and slept. Today, however, she was working. Working in the vast gardens of Drullen Bell. Today she was digging up a bed full of last year’s rotted bulbs. It was not particularly hard work, but extremely satisfying. She hadn’t gotten her hands in some good, deep, fresh soil since, well, since she had had a family, and had lived at Olgendale, her birthplace. Shainya always immensely enjoyed gardening, and she had been extremely willing to help with the call had gone out through Drullen Bell to start re-digging the garden beds. He hands were now smeared and caked with dirt, and her forehead was smudged where she had wiped it repeatedly with her grimy arm, but the grit didn’t bother her. It reaffirmed that she was alive.


Shainya looked up and smiled at Reno.

“Hello, Reno.”

“Shainya -- er…”


She sat back on her heels and brushed off flecks of dirt from her hands. Reno was now red and fidgety. He also was trying to hide something behind his back. At last he blurted out, “Shainya -- how can I kneel before you to ask you marry me if you’re already on the ground??”

Shainya’s eyes grew very wide.


Reno sank down beside her, his trousers sinking into the newly-churned earth, and said, “Well, there, I’ve blown it…I can it all planned out to be totally romantic and all and…”

“Oh, Reno!”

Shainya flung herself on Reno and kissed him rapidly and repeatedly, crying, “Yes, of course I will marry you!”

“But, but-!” Reno struggled upright, “I haven’t officially asked you yet…!”

Shainya calmed, pushed herself back from Reno, then waited expectantly, her whole face glowing.

“Er…well, Shainya…will you marry me?”



Bjarn was in his study leisurely reading a book when a knock interrupted him.

“Come in!” he called, and set aside his book.

Reno and Shainya entered, almost skipping with insane joy, both of them radiating happiness.

“What’s…this?” Bjarn asked. His eyes traveled over Reno’s dirty knees and Shainya’s well-muddied hands. Then a glint of gold caught his eye. A bit of gold wrapped around Shainya’s finger.

“My God…”

He looked back up at them, and the truth hit him the moment Shainya burst out , “We’re getting married!”

Bjarn stood up as if in a daze, and embraced them both.

“You have been such a father to us both,” said Reno, “We thought you should be the first to know…”

Bjarn stepped back to look at them, his craggy face breaking into a giant smile.

“Reno -- Shainya…I’m…so happy for you…”

“Thank you…”

They both embraced him again, and then they were out of the room, laughing and dancing. Bjarn returned to his bed and sat. Then he began to cry. He had never felt so happy in his life.


The ceremony was a simple and quiet one. It was held in a glen not far from Drullen Bell’s gardens, and only a few attended. Shainya wore a simple white dress with no frills, and Reno had on his best suit. Bjarn, by their request, performed the ceremony, and Aros was best man. Proud little Luxus was the ring bearer, and Fina, Rodurik’s little girl, was the flower girl. Rodurik, his son Trad and his wife Darinana, Voolmark, Anardan and his friend Elecil were also in attendance, as were other friends Jack Craft, Green Fox, and J’anrya.

When all was said and done, the newly wed couple embraced to the clapping and cheering of friends. Then, giggling, Shainya tossed her bouquet into the crowd. It landed on Luxus’s head, where he stared at it in horror to everyone else’s ringing laughter.

Aros charged his brother and punched him in the arm.

“So that’s why you wanted me to stay a few days long, you little tyco! You had to get married first!”

Reno merely grinned and winked.

Someone struck up a fiddle tune, and everyone took to dancing, included Bjarn, who did a quite impressive jig. The whole of the day, the woods surrounding Drullen Bell Keep were filled with joy and happiness. And the laughter of Reno and Shainya floated through the trees like music.


A passage from Bjarn’s journal:

April 19, 2005.

Today began with a blue sky and warm breeze, a fitting send-off for many friends. Today, Reno and Shainya Regga left Drullen Bell and went northwest, to find a homestead of their own in the Forestmen woods. May they find the perfect spot where they can be happily content, where they can raise, if they have any, their children protected from war and all the nastier things of life. I hope they don’t travel too far. How will Shainya or Reno Junior be able to visit Uncle Bjarn, then? But I am romanticizing.

The other two Regga brothers, Aros and Luxus, also left Drullen Bell today. They have headed south, both seeking adventure. Before the trial in the Temple Of Lost Stars, I would have longed to go with them. But not now. No, now, I will spend my days in Drullen Bell Keep, or the surrounding countryside, read books and writing my own filled with my past adventures. Someone had to record the comings and goings of the Misfits, and the Forestdweller’s part in the BloodVaine War, and the epic of the Temple Of Lost Stars, so it might as well be me. Thanks to the wisdom of Gonderin, the affairs of the Forestmen require little attention. The Wolfpack civil war still boils away in it’s own land, sealed off from the rest of Dametreos like a quarantined plague. The Dark Foresters, too, now have a new queen, to replace Radjar Kath, who decided to leave his throne to seek adventure. But, again, I am getting distracted. Back to my friends.

Today was also a day of grief, but also of release. Today, J’anrya was buried. It came as a great shock to me when I learned of her death. It was one of the maids, who found her, in her room. An overdose. She had taken Wolf’s Bane. When I was told…I felt numb. But, and I do not know if I am ashamed to admit it, I almost felt glad. J’anrya has weighed heavily upon me ever since Green Fox -- Marcus -- sprang her from a Wolfpack cell and brought her to me. I think…yes…I think I know why she killed herself. Ever since Reno’s and Shainya’s wedding, she has been depressed. I think she knew she could never be as happy as Shainya that day. I think she thirsted for that happiness, that affection, and died of that thirst. Neither Marcus nor myself could have given her that affection without hurting either of us. We were caught in a bind, and one of us had to go to ease that bind. And it was J’anrya. I do not blame Marcus. And I don’t think he blames me. In fact, I think a long rift between us has been healed. The woman who we competed over is dead now. Why should our strife continue?

Marcus has stopped drinking, and now is a decent man I can respect. He has returned to the Forestmen, and now has a small cottage very near the Forestmen border and Farburg. He puts his axe to good use as a woodsman.

Jack Craft, too, has departed from Drullen Bell. He has been endlessly restless, the wanderer that his is, but he didn’t leave, couldn’t leave, until the dispute between Marcus, J’anrya and myself had been resolved. Now that it is, he feels he is free to go. Now he has his mind set on being a puppeteer.

There, I think that covers everyone. Now I must put down this journal, and take a walk before my legs go to sleep. I think my age is finally catching up to me. About time too. I am beginning to really enjoy the role of retired adventurer.
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Postby The Green Knight » Thu Mar 31, 2005 10:52 pm

“Why, I’m Targon the indestructible.” And he said it as if it were a name everyone ought to know. “And if you don’t believe me, then take a seat and I’ll tell you the story of my adventures… in the clutches of The Earth Demon!”

“…And there I was… trapped in the very core of the earth… with none to aid me but my own self…” Targon narrated in hushed tones, milking the moment for all it was worth.

“How’d ya escape?” said one, wide eyed Pirate in the crowd of buccaneers that was flocked about the Dragon Master.

“Well,” said Targon. “That would be telling, now wouldn’t it?” Targon grinned. He was devouring the attention. “Another round, bar keep. Another round for these fine privateers!” This of course brought a hearty cheer from those around him and another squawk from the parrot.

“Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum. Brawk!”

Targon grinned and took another drought as the crowd about him dissipated. That was when he felt the hand on his shoulder. Looking up, Targon found a tall pirate with a large moustache and a tricorn hat looking down at him.

“Mr. Indestructible?

“That’d be me.” Said Targon, a half-drunken grin on his face.

“You weave a cunning tale mister. Sounds like a load of megablox to me, but if you mean to find a kingdom I may have a business proposition for ye. We can discus it on my ship if you’re interested.”

“Well, I believe I am, good sir.” Said Targon, rising from his seat.

“Now just a minute.” Said the bartender. “This man’s got quite a bill running.”

“Here.” Said the pirate, tossing a bag of coins onto the bar and grabbing Targon’s arm. “That should cover it.”

“Aye Cap’in Strom-rider.” Said the tender, for it was indeed the captain speaking.

Soon Targon found himself out side the pub, being led down a dock, up a gang plank and onto a ship. It was a cloudless night and in spite of the mist on the water, Targon could easily make out the name on the side of the ship. The Mantis

It was almost named The Hornet II, but that seemed a bit redundant to Burtrand, who had become fairly superstitious about such things ever since his trouble with those identical pendants. It was a good ship, if not quite the vessel it’s predecessor was. And considering his misfortune, Burtrand was lucky to have one at all. The deck was wide and mostly bare, as Targon noted the moment he stepped on board. A sensible person, of course, wouldn’t have been led so willingly onto a pirate’s ship, but Targon was indestructible right? It was part of his name, after all.

“Smythe!” Burtrand called into the mist. “Smythe, where are you?”

“Right ‘ere Cap’in,” said a wiry pirate stepping out of the mist near the back of the ship. “Something need doing?”

“Yes, light the lamps in my cabin and lay out the map. I’ll be in soon. Now,” Said Burtrand, turning to Targon. “I understand you’re in the market fer a kingdom?”

“That’s correct.” Said Targon, feigning an air of sophistication. “It is my ambition to set up an empire on one of the smaller southern isles. Amass riches and build a fine castle where I can spend the rest of my days in the lap of luxury.”

“I see,” said Burtand. “And how are ye gonna do that? The isles are across the water and that’s only the start of your problems. You’ll need a ship.”

“Ah I see. And you’ll provide it if I do you some favor.”

“You’re smarter then you look.” Said Burtrand dryly. He’d decided that he didn’t like this man much. Not because he was obviously a brute under his supposed regality, but because he seemed to think it necessary to act like a bloody aristocrat. Nothing worse then a man who acts like he’s smarter then you. Especially when he obviously isn’t. Still, this indestructible-would-be-king seemed to be perfect for the job Burtrand had in mind.
“Why don’t we go into my cabin and work out the details.”

Once inside they were greeted by the first mate. “Smythe’s the name. Sydney Smythe.”

“And I’m Targon. Targon the indestructible.”

A surprised and rather clueless look came to Sydney’s face but he quickly recovered and said: “Well there’s the map.”

“Here,” said Burtrand, pointing to a square on thew map. “Do ye know what this is?” Targon shook his head. “That dot is the city of Port Crown, capital of Crusader land and home of the King.”

“You want me to kill the king?” Targon questioned.

“No. The king’s already dead if my sources have it right. However there’s another would be king on the move. He hasn’t even been crowned yet and already he’s making trouble for us pirates. I want you to stop that coronation.”

“So, you want me to kill him.”

“No, if you did that, the people would only elect another one. We have to find a way to manipulate him. Force him to stop the coronation and let up on us pirates.”

“How do we do that?”

“Kidnapping. You kidnap his wife, son, daughter, whatever he has, just do it and bring whatever you get back here. A bargaining chip will put the pirates back in control.”

“I see…” said Targon. He was being drawn into the plot and was forgetting to act kingly. “So the king lives at Port Crown?”

“No, not this one. I don’t know where he lives but I trust ye to find that out yourself. It shouldn’t be that hard to locate. Now I’ll be in Denderham until the eighth of May. That’s the date of the coronation and I’ll expect ye back before then. Any questions?”

“Yeah. This whole business sounds kin’a risky. What if I run into trouble?”

“Well I didn’t think there was anything that could trouble ‘Targon the terrible.’”

“It’s indestructible.”

“Of course, now off with ye. I month isn’t as long as long as ya might think and I’ll give you a fist of doubloons for every day between your return and the eighth of May.”

The thought of money spurred Targon’s imagination and after a few more words, he was running down the gangplank and hurrying off to find the King.

“What was that all about?” Sydney questioned when Targon was out of sight. “Do ye really think he’ll be able to do it?”

“I don’t know, Smythe. He does seem incompetent but somehow I think he might be able to pull it off. Anyhow, I know that I’d never find a man brave enough in our crew of water rats.”

“Humph” said Sydney. “Brave or just foolish?”

Burtrand smiled. “Too true, matey. Too true.”
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...

Ok, enough of that!
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Fri Apr 01, 2005 5:39 pm

The epic continues in this thread: ... php?t=4354

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