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Classic-Castle Roleplay: March 2005

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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Mon Mar 28, 2005 11:17 pm

sith35 wrote:As dawn was creeping slowly upon them Willem, Graygon and Katheryn were already preparing to leave. Once again all there were silent, it seemed as if that was what kept the three together. The journey north was going to be loaded with trouble, and Willem wondered how they were going to find supporters. He has heard numerous time of them in hiding, but how will he be able to rally them. And to return to power and reform the Wolfpack. It all seemed so impossible, at least he had Graygon. The one man that could always be counted upon. Then there is Katheryn, Willem was sure he could trust her, but why go to all the trouble to help him. She could easily take care of her business with out the need for two Wolfpack. Only time would tell...


Time, it seemed, was on their side. It had been months since Willem Blackcloak had been ousted from the Wolfpack throne and had fled with Graygon, and they still had not been recaptured. Willem didn't know whether to count it to his and Graygon's own superior skill of subterfuge, or whether it was simple luck, or some other reason. After much thought as he traveled with his companions, he reasoned it had to be simple luck. It was true Willem and Graygon, like all Wolfpack, were exceptionally skilled at subterfuge, but the persons seeking him were also presumably Wolfpack, and would have the same advantage.

No, Willem reasoned, It had to be dumb luck. Especially in some situations. Especially when Katheryn did something very un-Wolfpack-ish and blow up an inn.

Willem was still amazed that they had ever made it out of Denderham. After a while, Willem conferred with Graygon about his thoughts and worries.

"I really don't think Ciroal even cares any more." stated Graygon after Willem had finished speaking, "Perhaps she just wanted the throne, and didn't need you dead."

"Or perhaps..." said Willem, "She doesn't have the resources anymore."

"Why do you say that?" asked Graygon.

"We would have been dead long ago if Ciroal had taken advantage of the Wolfpack spy network. Tyco, the whole Wolfpack factions is nothing but mercenaries, spies, and the like, with only simple villagers and lords holding them together! I think Ciroal's takeover did not go as smoothly as she hoped."

"Then that's good, for us." Graygon smiled.

"Perhaps not," Willem cautioned, "As I said, the Wolfpack is chock-full of sub-nations, clans, troupes and other such groups, more so than any other faction. I think after word got out I was gone, everyone jumped at the throne."

"That still may be good, for us and your supporters."

"I hope. Maybe we can just let Ciroal and the others kill each other off in their own civil war and then we can pick up the pieces once they're all dead."

Graygon laughed, then sobered.

"I just pray this conflict doesn't spill over into Forestmen and Dark Forest lands. Another Fell War will kill the Forestdwellers."

"Bjarn is smart, he won't let that happen." assured Willem, "And I hope Radjar Kath has matured since the last conflict."

"You won't have to worry about Radjar Kath." said Katheryn suddenly, butting into the conversation, "He was removed from office. An interim council now rules the Dark Forest."

"How'd you know that?" demanded Graygon.

"I know." Katheryn replied, "Perhaps I shouldn't say removed. He stepped down after the council asked him to."

"Then perhaps Fell War II will not happen." sighed Willem, "Radjar is a wandering soul, and could have led his faction to destruction. He has made a wise choice."

"Also, something else you should know," said Katheryn coolly, "The Forestmen and Dark Forest borders have been sealed. No one is allowed in or out. Just keep that in mind."

"Right." nodded Graygon, "but that's nothing a druid and two Wolfpack can't handle."

Willem chuckled and Katheryn even allowed herself a slight smile. They continued on.
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Postby Formendacil » Tue Mar 29, 2005 6:40 am

Grid: N-24
Location: An inn north of Talistrand

Formendacil wrote:From his vantage point on the far side of the road, Y'lirk watched as the three riders dismounted, and eventually entered the inn.

"Wait for nightfall," he told one of his men, "and then find out which rooms they've acquired. Then report back to me."

The Old Man, Elwen, and Sir Jayko entered the inn. The Old Man went up to the counter, and the innkeeper came over to see him.

"Rooms for three, please," said the Old Man.

"Sorry," said the innkeeper, "we're all full up. I only have two one-bed rooms. Your third member may sleep on the floor, if you don't mind. I'm terribly sorry, but there's a lot of farmers going in to the city to trade before settling in for the planting."

"If that's all you have, I guess we'll have to take it," said the Old Man, handing the innkeeper a purse.

"You can pick which room you want," said the Old Man. "I'll take the other."

"Do I sleep on your floor?" asked Jayko, realising reluctantly that age and beauty both had a prior claim over his own.

"No," said Elwen. "You can sleep in the stable with the horses."

"Actually," said the innkeeper, "the stable's full as well. There's only room for two horses."

"Then you can sleep outside, with your horse," said Elwen vindictively.

"But... but..." said Jayko.

"I think it's only fair," said Elwen. "The Old Man gets a room because he's older than you. I get a room for the same reason, and because I'm a woman. The horses get the stable because they outrank you."

"The horses outrank me?" spluttered Jayko. "What? Why!!"

"Because a horse has never kidnapped anyone and caused them to tramp through the Neverwood and into slavery to Anka Dolour, that's why!" said Elwen angrily, jabbing her finger at Jayko. Jayko looked taken aback.

"But... but... you didn't say anything!" he said.

"I never protested!" shouted Elwen. "Is your memory as bad as your sword?"

"It was for your own good!" said Jayko.

"What? It was good to be kidnapped and sent to Anka Dolour?"

"No, I meant that you had to be gotten away, away from Quorandis..." said Jayko.

"Bernard!!!" shrieked Elwen. "I needed to be saved from him?"

"Enough of this for tonight," said the Old Man, stepping in. "Jayko was obviously acting in what he thought was the best interests. Tonight he can sleep on my floor."

Without another word, the Old Man headed up the stairs towards bed. Jayko took off after him, Elwen coming up slowly, regally behind him, a glare of fire on her face.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Tue Mar 29, 2005 8:17 pm

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“Right…” agreed Tim E., “Just don’t go and kill anybody…”

“I’ll only kill those who deserve it…” growled Viktor, and strode off.

Grid: N-10
Location: Port Crowne

Viktor kept his word and didn't kill anyone that night, though he did engage in a violent fist fight that caused some nasty black eyes, cracked ribs and loosened teeth, luckily none his own. After helping the innkeeper to through the last unconscious body out into an alley, Viktor returned to the pub and ordered a drink.

"So..." said the bartender, a sturdy man named Orson, "Yer a Eastern Knight's Kingdomer, eh?"

He made a careful point not to use the derogatory tems 'Jellybean' or 'Rainbower', after seeing what Viktor could do to a dozen semi-drunk men.

"Aye, that I am." nodded Viktor, chugging his brew.

"Ye pack a pretty punch..." continued Orson, wiping a glass.


"Ye...aren't like the other...Eastern Knight's Kingdomer's I've seen."

Viktor looked up. Orson merely displayed a curious interest.

"Contrary to the popular -- and incorrect -- belief," began Viktor, "Eastern Knight's Kingdomers can kick some butt."

Orson remembered a tale where seven rogue men who called themselves the Misfits had invaded Kingdom Isle and had managed to overrun the entire army of the provincial governor. He held his tongue, however, and did not mention this.

"Why," Viktor continued, "Really, the rest of Dametreos should be thanking and praising the Easterners for our inventiveness! We were the ones who created Spinning Blades Of Death that forever changed the history of siege weapons! We were the ones who invented the wheeled horses, revolutionizing the transportation of goods! And it was our own Marta Stuart who perfected the art of instant decor using revolving walls to change the colors of castles!"

"...And then she was arrested when she tried to do the same to the Yellow Castle." murmured Orson.

Viktor grew red, but could not think of any counter argument. He grabbed his mug and swigged of the rest of the brew, slamming the empty cup into the woodwork. At that moment Tim E. entered, grinning, and sat next to Viktor.

"Viktor, how goes ye?"

"Still fightin'" growled Viktor, still glaring at Orson, "What news?"

Tim E. grinned. "I got the job! I've got half a wharf, two boathouses, and a harbormaster's station to build! I'm gonna be busy all summer!"

Time E. rattled a few coins together. "Yes, this is certainly the time to be in the building business. Everyone's rebuilding after the war!"

He took a swig of his own drink and continued, "I was lucky, too. The gov'ner here was looking into hiring Elsa Byrd, but he couldn't stand 'er and she cost too much, so I got the job instead!"

"That's great, Tim!" grinned Viktor, pounding his friend on the back.

They fell silent for a while, then Viktor said, "Well, that you have got what you want, perhaps I should go and get mine."

"Still looking for adventure?" queried Tim E.

"Yeah...I might continue north...or might head inland...I don't know really."

"Well," Tim E. smiled, "It's been great knowin' ya. I'll been here all summer and perhaps the fall, but after that I'll head home. Perhaps we'll meet again."

"I hope so." grinned Viktor. Then he flipped a coin to Orson the bartender, pounded Tim E. on the back one last time, and left the bar.
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Postby The Green Knight » Tue Mar 29, 2005 9:12 pm


A stranger walked through the darkened streets of Denderham, blending into the night with his black cloak and hood. The man hoofed through the streets with long deliberate strides, winding his way down to the port in search of a place to spend the night. As he reached the wharf he spied a large, low building that swung out over the water front on a dock. The sound of loud voices came from the windows and by the light of the torch at the door, a swinging sign could be seen.
“The Filthy Fish Hook” it read. Only the word fish had been crossed off, making it read “The Filthy Hook” Below this was another, hand-painted, water-streaked sign. “Pirates Welcum”

Obviously the government was turning this building a blind eye. Either that or they didn't care. It looked like pub, which isn't exactly the same as an inn, but it would do for the man in the dark cloak.

He swung open the door and let himself in. It was dim inside but the atmosphere was anything but quiet. One-eyed buccaneers flirted with plumpish barmaidens. Pirate compatriots joined in loud sea chanteys. Swaggering drunkards bellowed at the bar tender and a parrot squawked hoarsely from its roost in the eaves.

The stranger maneuvered up to the bar and seated himself down beside two rumrunners, who were discussing their latest plans in hushed voices.

“Geimme some Dragon's Milk.” He ordered in his crass, foreign accent.

“Dragon what?” the bar tender bellowed above the raucous. “Listen mister, we've only got one brew here. Whiskey, ale, gin, rum, beer, liquor, dram, moonshine, wine, port—”

“Hard to port! Hard to port!” The parrot interrupted.

“It's all the same stuff here.” the bar tender concluded.

“Alright.” said the man, glowering. “Then I guess I'll have one of whatever it is you serve here.”

“Aye that's right.” said a winzied old pirate with a wooden eye, sitting next to him. “Ye'll not get any foreign wine in this pub, matey. Aye that's fer certain. Arrrr Hardy Har Ho-he. Aye, ye're not from around here arr ye?”

The man didn't respond.

“Ye've got the accent of eh Dragon Master, matey. Aye, an' the Dragon Master's don' like the sea. So tell me, what's a lan'luber like ye doin' down here by the docks? There might be trouble if some'a the brutes catch wind o' ye.”

“Are you threatening me?” The stranger asked, wiping the froth from his red beard.

“Me? ol' Marble eye? Oh no sir, not me. I be merely warnin' ye. Ya see, not all them in this pub be as gregarious as ol’ Marble-eye, here. There be some here, jus' waiting fer an excuse to fight.”

Meanwhile, at a small table in the corner of the room, a pirate sat, wrapped in his own thoughts. Burtrand Storm-Rider sipped his frothy brew and starred blankly at the wall in front of him. His mind was troubled. Things were happening in the crusader's navy. Rumors of a change in government and hard times for pirates. The pirates were having a heyday now, with the Crusader fleet out of the way and corrupt officials turning a blind eye to their activities, the pirates were pretty much free to do as they wished in Crusader land. Even before the war and the loss of the Crusader fleet, it had always been easy. With nearly all the government officials including King Richard, taking bribes or being blackmailed, it wasn't hard to make a living. Of course they didn't pillage the Crusaders very often. After all, the dirty port cities were better use for making birth then plundering.

But now there were rumors of change. A new king, they said. One who was actively going about ousting pirates from port cities. Denderham was still safe at present. The mayor was taking heavy bribes. But who knew how long that could last. Rumor also had it that the new king was weeding out all the corrupt officials. The mayor of Denderham would have to shape up or ship out when the king came to town.

Yes, something had to be done. This new king couldn't be incorruptible. Every man has his weakness and for the king, it would only be a matter of finding it.

“Is that any way to address a king?!!”

Burtrand was jolted from his thoughts by the sudden outburst. Was it the King? Here in the bar of all places? Burtrand swiveled in his chair to face the bar where the voice had come from. Most of the other pirates did the same, feeling their daggers at the mention of the king.

“He doesn't look like nobility.” Burtrand thought, staring at the stranger in front of the bar. He was dressed in a dark cloak, with the hood thrown back to reveal a full head of long red hair and a short red beard on a rugged face. By the look of it he was being hassled by two brutish pirates.

“A king eh?” said one of the brutes, mockingly. “Really? Well yer 'ighness, where’s yer entourage then, eh?”

“Well I’m not a king yet!” Said the stranger. “But I’m…in the market, as it were.” There was a moment’s silence before the room erupted into a chorus of laughter.

“What?” said the stranger, glaring about the room. “What’s so strange about it? You captains are kings in your own right! And I bet you didn’t start out like that. The only difference is that you call your subjects a crew and your kingdom floats around at sea!”

“Of course,” he said, turning to the two brutes beside him. “Kings and captains alike have to watch their backs against things like mutiny and assassination! I, on the other hand, don’t have to worry about such things. And I’m certainly not threatened by you two. You see there’s one very important thing you don’t know about me.”

“And what’s that?” One of the pirates ventured.

“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!
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...

Ok, enough of that!
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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Tue Mar 29, 2005 11:25 pm

Grid: E-7
Location: Iadoraz Freeport

The bay of Iadoraz Freeport was calm as the morning sun broke over the mountainous horizon that loomed over the Black Falcon town. The harbor was nearly empty, typical for this time of year with only four trading cogs and a large skiff for the port authorities. The slaver galley on the other hand was anchored far from shore, a single yellow pennant flying from its single mast. Yellow meant disease. Earlier that evening the ship had tried to nose its way into harbor, but when the port authority had boarded the galley, it had been warned off – a small bribe was usually acceptable for slaves, but no man would accept any amount of money when a disease was wreaking havoc on the ship.

Now the skiff was skimming over the water. Eight men were rowing and the chief inspector, Guterviz Dunhip, was at the prow. The ship in front of him was not a very pretty one. Years of misuse and carelessness had changed its long slender hull, once finely painted and ornamented into nothing more than streaked wood turned to a near black color by the pounding action of heavy seas, intense heat, and just about everything in between.

On the galley’s deck, the captain and what was left of his officers leaned over the railing, hailing the customs official. Guterviz did not reply. Motioning to the rowers, he brought the longboats up to the galley’s side and climbed up the rope ladder that had been lowered down. Looking at the slaver captain and his companions, he spoke.
“Now then – what sort of disease do you have on board this - ship of yours?”
Ivan Rudabaker didn’t like the Falcon’s tone. He was still rather miffed at being turned away the previous evening, but grinned anyway, perhaps in an instinctive attempt to gain the Falcon’s favor. “It’s not’ing really- just a case ot da’ flu. I ‘ill don’t understand why you’re so uneasy ‘bout it.”
“We’ll see then – tell me – is this ship registered?”
Ivan was even more uncomfortable now. This Guterviz character was asking too many questions. He grinned even more. “Well, come off it man – take 20 crowns here and let’s just say it’s registered…”
Guterviz didn’t buy it. His tone was a mark stiffer then before. “I see. Let me – check my records. I’ll be back – later.”
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Wed Mar 30, 2005 1:11 am

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:Lord Void glided over to a liquor cabinet, poured himself a scotch, the gazed at the map on the wall again.

"I'll tackle the Royal Knights soon enough." he said to himself, "But at this moment...I need to find myself an architect..."


"Void, dahling! So absolutely thrilling of you to call!"

Lord Void stiffened like a rod and resisted the urge to incinerate his guest. Elsa Byrd trotted through the doorway in black, crocodile-skin heels with matching suit and handbag. The heels were three inches high, but did little to enhance the three feet, two inches height of the world-famous architect.

"Welcome, Miss Byrd. I have an offer to make."

"Sen-sa-stional, dahling! At last, a real client I can brag about to my lady friends! You can't imagine how droll it is, dahling, for me these days! Ab-sol-lute-ly droll!"

"Bad business?" commented Lord Void dryly, pouring wine for them both.

Elsa Byrd nodded vigorously, causing her giant, black-rimmed, round glasses to bounce up and down upon her protuberant and upturned nose.

"That can't understand, the people today!" she cried, her voice stair-stepping up octaves, "These people, lowly goatherds that they are -- architecture is an ART, I tell you, and ART! You cannot rush art, you cannot mass-produce art -- though some try..." she added darkly, "I am an ARTIST, and to be an artist is suffer the cruel stu-pi-ti-ty of the public!"

Lord Void handed her a wine glass and sat, gesturing for her to do so as well. Elsa Byrd took her glass, downed it's contents with a theatrical sweep, set the empty glass on a nearby table and glanced at the chair behind her. It was a tall, velvety chair with a high back and tall, carved legs, and there was no way Elsa Byrd could have climbed into it unassisted.

"You should be more considerate of you guests, dahling." she tutted, and whipped out her own jet-black wand. With a flick, she was floated upward and deposited comfortably upon the seat.

"I'll kill this room's interior designer for you later, shall I?" murmured Lord Void, refilling Elsa Byrd's glass.

"You do that, dahling." approved Elsa Byrd, displaying a mouthful overfull of chalky-white teeth.

She sipped at her wine this time, and continued, "So what is this offer, Void dahling? Something big, I hope, something grand and majestic, something to overshadow all that surrounds it!"

"Shall a walk?" offered Lord Void. They didn't do quite that. Instead, Lord Void talked Elsa Byrd into teleporting them north, to the remains of the Fire Breathing Fortress. Except, Lord Void didn't say they were ruins. As they materialized with a flash, the tiny architect gaped at the pile of rubble and shrieked, "My GOD, what have you done!?"

"I di-" Lord Void began, but was cut off. Elsa Byrd had elevated herself to face level with Lord Void and was now whacking him over the head with her wand.

"My fortress, dahling, MY fortress, I designed!? What-" she whacked him "-did-" whack "-you-" whack "-do!?"

Furious, Lord Void stepped back and was about to blast her into a black smudge when she suddenly ceased and floated back to the ground, exclaiming, "Nonononononono! This will NOT do, nononononononono! Such a pitious shame, such a woeful shame. How it wounds me, dahling..."

Lord Void channeled his anger and crumbled a rock behind him into dust and then, with immense effort, stated calmly, "I did not destroy my own fortress, BloodVaine did."

"BloodVaine dahling? That oaf who tried to take over Dametreos?"

"The one and only."

Elsa continued to lament.

"Such as horrific shame...MY fortress..."

"As you can see, it needs a facelift." Lord Void quipped dryly.

"Not facelift, dahling, a REBIRTH!" Elsa Byrd leapt onto a stone and gesture grandly, forming imaginary shapes with her tiny hands, "A resurrection! A renewal! A reincarnation!"

Elsa Byrd now hunched over, still standing on the rock, her hands twiddling, her eyes flashing, her mind scheming.

"It will have outer walls sheer as cliffs, a keep the size of a mountain! It's gatehouse will be formed as if a dragon!"

"I take it you agree?" asked Lord Void, smirking inwardly.

"Yes, Void dahling! You will have your fortress, and I will have my glory! Persons from around the world will travel to marvel at this god of fortresses, this stronghold of everlasting stone! Elsa Byrd will build it, and they will come!"

I want a castle, megabloks it, not a tourist attraction. thought Lord Void, but said nothing. Let the old crow have her delusions. He got what he wanted. The best architect in Dametreos, one who could indeed rebuild the Fire Breathing Fortress past it's former glory and into a living legend.

"Now, dahling, I must start at once!" cried Elsa Byrd, interrupting the Dragon Master's thoughts. All at once they were back in the Grolling Fortress. Before the tiny architect trotted out of the room, she turned back, her eyes narrowed, and said slyly, "Void dahling, there is the matter of payment..."

Lord Void tossed a large pouch of coins at Elsa Byrd's feet like a king paying off an assassin. Elsa Byrd looked at it disdainfully.

"Dahling, this is chickenfeed! I refuse to touch it!"

She turned away, shut her eyes, crossed her arms, and pretended to pout. Lord Void's next words instantly brought her out of that pose.

"That's for your trouble today. You'll get that every week until the project is done."

Elsa Byrd's eyes opened wide, magnified even more so by her giant glasses, and grinned wolfishly.

"Very good, dahling."

She scooped up the coins and deposited them in her purse. Right before she shut the door she leaned back and said, "Oh and call me, dahling, as soon as you're back from Royal Knight land. I so enjoy our little chats."
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Mar 30, 2005 2:59 am

Grid: J-10
Location: The Golden Castle, Orion

An Imperial herald, clothed in the blue and purple of the Imperial livery stepped into the Emperor's office, his heels clicking on the cold stone floor.

"Your Imperial Majesty has received a letter," said the Herald, "bearing the seal of the Dark Forest regency."

"Put it on the desk," said Emperor Constantius. The herald bowed, did so, and then left. A few minutes later, having finished what he was working on, the Emperor picked up the letter, broke the seal, and read it. It read:

To His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Constantius VII of Legoland, from the Regency Council of the Kingdom of the Dark Forest, Greetings.

As Your Majesty will be well aware by this time, the Dark Forest Kingdom has been kingless since the abdication of King Radjar Kath on the 12th of this month, March, and that Radjar left no clear heir to the throne of Fallmir Kath.

I need not trouble you with the details of our history, but I shall do so as a matter of form. As you are well aware, Fallmir Kath was the first true king produced by the Dark Forest people since their separation from the League of Forestmen in 1776. Much of our history, we were ruled by a council of nobles, or else not at all. In the years immediately preceding the reign of Fallmir Kath, the latter was sadly the case, the last Regnant Council having been disbanded in 1945.

The Regency Council feels, and this is supported by widespread popular sentiment, that the Kingdom is best off in the hands of a single monarch. Unfortunately, therein lies the problem. Radjar Kath was the only child of Fallmir Kath, himself a man with no close relatives. Based on the ties of blood alone, the nearest claimant to the Dark Forest throne is that of Haldir Kormenos, a minor noble from our island territory, and a dissolute drunk, in no way suited to the rule of a kingdom.

His Royal Highness, Prince Radjar Kath (for so His Former Majesty is now to be addressed) informs me that he will back any candidate that we so desire to put forward, and will not back the blood of Kath, even though the general populace strongly supports the succession of a Kath to the throne.

After much deliberation amongst the members of the Regency Council, we have decided to appeal to Your Imperial Majesty, and ask for your mediation. Any candidate approved by Your Imperial Majesty will be supported by our Council, so long as he is Dark Forest, or of Dark Forest blood.

Yours on behalf of the Regency Council,

Modious Morphous,
Interim Governor of the Dark Forest

Constantius VII put down the letter, and leaned back in his chair. A replacement for Radjar Kath? The man had a larger than life reputation, much beloved of his people, although the actual ruling throughout his reign had been done almost entirely without his intervention by men such as Modious Morphous.

Prince, as he must now be called, Radjar Kath would be much happier as his own man. Meanwhile, the Emperor must needs find him a replacement. And as he sat there at his desk, the Emperor already began to have ideas.
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Mar 30, 2005 3:47 am

Grid: H-13
Location: Black Knight territory

Formendacil wrote:After sunset he stopped again, once again sleeping in a ditch. He was too tired to care, and had he stopped in a village, he would have not made the extra five miles.

Sleeping in ditches, when he slept at all, and pushing himself and his horse as hard as he could, Sir Dractor soon found himself deep in Black Knight territory.

His exhaustion has worn off, and he had settled into the dull routine of uninterrupted travel. He would almost have rather walked, since the horse couldn't stand the gruelling pace he could, but he was forced to admit that the horse was still faster than he was.

It wasn't too far from Glondur, and the coast. Once he got there, he could ditch the annoyingly unmotivated horse, and press on by ship. With winter lifting or lifted, it should be fair enough for travel, and swift enough to reach Talistrand by a decent date.

It was night again. Past sundown. Time to find another ditch.
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Postby Loneranger » Wed Mar 30, 2005 6:38 am

It had been 8 weeks since the Lone ranger started his training. His sword play and speed had improved under the watchful eye of the old Man.

It was past midnight, as the Lone ranger started to work his way up a mountain side, carrying four pals of water. He sighed after catching his breath. As he went to go lay the four pals of water down, he felt a smack to the head.

“You shouldn't be resting. Come on, move!” The old Man screamed, smacking him on the head again.

Without replying. He picked the pals up and proceeded on. Taking a glance behind him, as always, the old Man was watching him. Four miles later, they came to a small cave.

“Rest, I will see you early.” And with that, the old man disappeared into the night.

The Lone ranger carefully put the four pals of water down. Then he laid on the cold cave floor.

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Postby Formendacil » Wed Mar 30, 2005 7:22 am

Grid: N-24
Location: An inn north of Talistrand

Formendacil wrote:From his vantage point on the far side of the road, Y'lirk watched as the three riders dismounted, and eventually entered the inn.

"Wait for nightfall," he told one of his men, "and then find out which rooms they've acquired. Then report back to me."

Formendacil wrote:Without another word, the Old Man headed up the stairs towards bed. Jayko took off after him, Elwen coming up slowly, regally behind him, a glare of fire on her face.

It was dark, night had fallen. Corporal Y'lirk gestured to his men to come in.

"Rab reports that they've gone to their rooms, and are asleep," he said. "It's time to move in. Stable crew take the left-hand path, my men will go round to the front. Be back here in thirty minutes."

Saluting their officer, they headed in. The stable crew headed to the stables, the rest with Y'lirk to the inn.


Jayko couldn't sleep. That wasn't a huge surprise, really. What Elwen had said to him had really shocked him. He had thought that Elwen had forgiven him. After all, she had said nothing since Port Jozef, and neither had anyone else. Surely she had understood that he had been acting in her best interests? Jayko still harboured a lingering suspicion that Quorandis was not a good man, given strength by the fact that Quorandis had gone off with the Old Man's enemy, even though Quorandis had been the one to rescue them.

Jayko heard a noise in the room below. Someone had come into the inn. Outside, there was a noise coming from the stables. Then the footsteps below faded as those making them went in separate directions.

It was quiet for a few minutes, then Jayko began to hear whinneying from the stables. Faintly, it sounded like the horses were in terror.

Was Jayko imagining things? Jayko wasn't sure. Should he wake the Old Man? Jayko really didn't want the old sorceror mad at him too. And the neighing seemed to be fading. Still, maybe something was happening. Jayko started to move, intending to get up and look at the window, but the floor creaked, and the Old Man grunted in his seat. He quickly sank back down, not wanting to wake him.

So caught up was he in trying to hear what was happening in the stables without waking the Old Man, that he only noticed the noises downstairs growing again even as they set light to the oil and the inn went up in flame.

"Fire!" screamed a voice below, soon to be joined by the others in the inn. The Old Man bolted out of bed.


Soon after, the Dragon Masters regathered outside the inn.

"Excellent work," said Y'lirk. "Get some sleep. I'll take the first watch with Rab."
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Postby Sir Dillon » Wed Mar 30, 2005 6:49 pm

Location: Castle of Morcia

It had been more then a week since Cynan had decided to go to Knights Kingdom lands. He’d had gone quickly across the KK1 land and into the land of KK2, taking what he needed from peasants along the way.

Cynan wanted to become a Knight in the court of King Mathias, but now that he’d arrived in sight of the Castle of Morcia, he was starting to have second thoughts. He was on a hill over looking the castle, and Cynan wasn’t sure what to think.

The castle was like nothing he had seen before; it wasn’t a huge, but it was built on a large hill of rock, and though the walls were not very tall, it had the tallest towers he’d ever seen. There were lots of brightly colored banners wavering in the breeze.

Cynan thought the castle looked odd compared to the Black Knight castles he was used to, but he would get used to it eventually.

He walked down the hill and into the wide open gates, the city was bustling with activity, and Cynan was in a sort of crowd the whole time he was on the main streets. He turned into a back road but kept walked in the same direction; towards the castle.

He had to go back onto the main roads to get to the castle’s gates, but it wasn’t as crowded the nearer he got to them.
When he reached the gates, they weren’t closed, but heavily guarded by strange looking knights. Cynan went towards the biggest knight who was warring bright red armor and seemed to be in charge.

“Can I help you?” the big knight said in a very deep voice that had a bit of mocking in it.

“Yes, I would like to speak with King Mathias.” Cynan replied.

The big knight eyed Cynan suspiciously, then said “Very well, but you’ll have to leave your weapons here.”

Cynan reluctantly drew his sword and gave it to a smaller knight who reached out for it. Then said: “all right, lead me to your king.”

“Follow me.”

The red knight led Cynan threw corridors and up stairs in till they finally came to two doors with guards either side. The red knight muttered something to one of the guards and then they opened the doors and went in.

Inside there was a small hallway, and at the end of it there was a throne where King Mathias sat.
Cynan walked up to him and knelt at his feet.

“Your highness, I am Cynan of the Black Knights and…” Cynan started, but was cut off by King Mathias.

“What do you want?” The King said in a fairish, but rough voice.

“I… um… wanted to become a knight under your service sire.”

“Very well. Go and get some sleep, I am sure you are very tired after you journey.”

“Yes, your highness.” Cynan said as he was lead out of the room by a servant. He wasn’t tired, but he thought it best to obey.

That was almost too simple. He thought as he sat down on his bed.
Oh well, they’ll probably make me go through some sort of ceremony tomorrow. As long as I don’t have to ware any of that silly looking armor.
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Mar 30, 2005 6:53 pm

Grid: J-10
Location: The Golden Castle, Orion

Formendacil wrote:Prince, as he must now be called, Radjar Kath would be much happier as his own man. Meanwhile, the Emperor must needs find him a replacement. And as he sat there at his desk, the Emperor already began to have ideas.

The following morning, the Emperor called in his scribe, ordered him to prepare his parchment, quill, and ink, and be ready to receive his dictation. The document ran:

To the Regency Council of the Kingdom of the Dark Forest, and to the general populace of that domain, from Constantius VII, Emperor of Legoland,

In reply to the request of the Regency Council with regards to the succession of the former King of the Dark Forest, Radjar Kath, we are pleased to inform you of our selection of a suitable candidate for the occupation of your throne.

As you are well aware, Fallmir Kath left no descendants or near relatives other than his son, Radjar Kath, and the Kath line is the only royalty that has ever ruled in your fair kingdom. Due to the unsuitable distance between Radjar Kath and his nearest kin, we have found it fitting to go afield in search of his replacement.

Although the line of Kath is the first royalty to be produced by the Dark Forest people, the Kingdom of the Dark Forest is home to some people of royal ancestry. Indeed, you have within your borders a lady of fine royal pedigree, whom we are pleased to nominate as our candidate for your throne.

Arabella Louise Fornsir is the daughter of Louise Patricia Leon, herself the daughter of Prince Patrick Leon, the great-uncle to the now-deceased King Richard IV of the Crusaders. The wife of Prince Patrick Leon, and the grandmother of Lady Arabella, was the direct descendant and right heir of Hadar Shadowlire, first king of the Wolfpack, and the first royalty of the Forestdweller nations.

On her father's side, Arabella Fornsir is the eldest daughter of Duke Arathorn Jorasan, the lord of the oldest pedigree on the Fell Isle. Her younger brother, Aradan Jorasan is the current holder of the title.

In addition, Arabella's now-deceased husband, Baron Kaye Fornsir, was the scion of one of the founding houses of the Dark Forest, and one of the most distinguished families in the Hemlock province.

We have been priveleged to know the Baroness Fornsir during our time as an ambassador to our predecessors on the Imperial Throne, and were much struck with her tact and intelligence. The people of the Dark Forest will also remember her as her husband's partner as ambassadors to the Imperial city during the years 1986-1989 C.C.

We are confident in the ability of Lady Arabella to serve you well as queen, and give Imperial assent to her selection as your new sovereign and overlord.

Dated this 30th day of March, 2005, C.C. in the Imperial Palace of Orion, bearing the signature and seal of:

Constantius VII,
Emperor of Legoland,
King of Orion,
Lord of the House Legonis,
Overlord of Dametreos

"Write out three copies," said Constantius when he had finished. "Send the original to the archives, Master Lentawl will see that it is properly stored. The copies are to be sent to Governor Morphous, the Dark Forest Council, and our ambassador in Hemlock Stronghold, respectively."
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Mar 30, 2005 9:44 pm

Grid: N-24
Location: An inn north of Talistrand

Formendacil wrote:So caught up was he in trying to hear what was happening in the stables without waking the Old Man, that he only noticed the noises downstairs growing again even as they set light to the oil and the inn went up in flame.

"Fire!" screamed a voice below, soon to be joined by the others in the inn. The Old Man bolted out of bed.

Grabbing their things, Jayko and the Old Man dashed into the hall. Huge flames soared up to meet them. Dashing through the flames, they tore down the stairs, and out the entrance into the night. Several of the other guests had already fled the inn, and were standing blurry-eyed in the light of the flames.

"Where's Elwen?" asked the Old Man, looking around. There was no sign of their companion.


Elwen was trapped. Something had been shoved in front of her door, and she couldn't get out. Her window was too far up from the ground, and it was already surrounded by flame. Elwen was starting to cough and wheeze with the smoke. She banged vainly on the door.


The Old Man's eyes glazed over.

"She's still in there," he said. "She can't get out. Confound it, I'll have to do something."

Raising his staff and spreading his arm, a gust of noise shot out from him, tearing a hole in the upper story of the inn. Then, he carried Elwen out on a draft of air, and set her on ground with their things. Putting his hand on her chest, a brief spark of gold flashed, and with a cough, she spat out a solid lump of ash, and stood up, no longer coughing.

All around them, the guests and servants began to clamour for the Old Man's attention, wanting their loved ones rescued, and their ailments treated. Irritated, he raised his staff, and with a crash of thunder, the flames vanished, and only smoke and steam rose from the inn. He was then pressed to look at their injuries and ailments, to most of which he just replied that it was nothing, but to a few he was pressed to heal.

Meanwhile, Elwen looked over at the stables, which were still blazing, and after a moment of staring, went over to lend a hand in throwing water and dirt on the flames. By the time the Old Man had escaped the healing-seekers, the stable had been doused.

"How are the horses?" asked the Old Man. "They must be terrified."

"Actually," said Elwen, "they're all gone."

"Gone?" said the Old Man, "but horses are terrified of fire. That means that they would have left BEFORE the fire was lit."

"That's right," said Jayko. "The ones who started the fire must have let them out."

"The ones who started the fire?" said the Old Man sharply. "What do you mean?"

So Jayko told what he had heard.

"You knew something was happening, and you didn't do anything!" said the Old Man angrily. "Thanks to you I have drained myself healing warts and emptying ears of wax, and now have to recover or procur new horses, and have generally lost a good night's sleep, because you were PARALYSED on the floor? Have you ANY sense?"

"Yes..." said Jayko timidly.

"You have yet to prove it then," said the Old Man, "and you have certainly done nothing to indicate it yet. It's no wonder you were so quick to escape Barleyburg. You must have made a huge bungle of ruling that! And since then I have yet to see you do anything right."

"He's done plenty wrong though," said Elwen vindictively. So vindictively, in fact, that it seemed to shake the Old Man out his own anger.

"Well," said the Old Man. "Let's see if we can't find a place to sleep. I need rest. And we need to find two more horses tomorrow. Jayko's is still here because it was tied outdoors."

Then, without a word of apology to Jayko, he and Elwen set off to do just that.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Wed Mar 30, 2005 11:26 pm

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:As for Bjarn, a council with Gonderin awaited.


The Forestmen King and his second-in-command had spent the last two hours discussing matters of the Forestdwellers and the Fellowship Of The Pendants. Now, at last, the talking was over, and they both rested their sore throats by sipping at some wine.

"It seems much has happened since I left." sighed Bjarn, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes vigorously.

"Indeed, sir." agreed Gonderin.

"Tyco, I hope Willem's alright." Bjarn stated after a pause.

"As far as we know...Lord Blackcloak is still on the run. We have all the spies searching for him, of course, so that he could be taken into protection."

"Very good." nodded Bjarn, "Gonderin, I can't thank you enough. No other person could have kept the Forestmen running this smoothly like you."

Gonderin allowed himself a slight smile. "Thank you sir. What are you plans now?"

"Me?" Bjarn chuckled slightly, "I don't see there is anything I need to do, at least at this moment. I think just continuing as before will suffice, unless something else turns up."

"Very good, my lord."

Gonderin rose, and bowed.

"I have kept you too long as it is, my lord. I'll send up maids with a basin and warm water for you to wash in."

"Thank you, Gonderin, nothing sounds more enticing."

Gonderin nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Bjarn stood and looked at himself in the mirror. Megablocks, he looked haggard. A bath would just the ticket...and a shave. He had become quite scruffy.

Soon the door opened and maids brought in a large metal basin, filled it with steaming water, and left quietly. Bjarn slowly undressed, letting his worn and dirty clothes crumble to the floor, and eased himself into the tub with a sigh.

Yes...he had had enough of adventures for the time being. Now it was time for some rest and relaxation.
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Postby Commander Redbeard » Thu Mar 31, 2005 2:06 am

Location: Borders of Forestman territory

Anardan and Elacil were thrilled to see each other again; and their unexpected meeting added to their delight.

"I can't wait for you tell me all about what happened to you." said Elacil. "You left eight and returned seven. Where is Sir Dractor?"

"Oh, he's all right;" reassured Anardan. "He had some important buisness elsewhere to attend to. Many times I thought we'd return seven, six... Or not at all. Too much happened during that quest I could not begin to tell you. I need some time to think up a good way to put it all so that we're not here for days.What's been going on while I've been away?"

"If you won't give me your story yet, I suppose I should give you mine first."
said Elacil, leaning on his bow.

"All was quiet for some time after you left. I spent some time commanding the domestic patrols, and I had some trouble with a rogue knight in the backcountry, he was terrorizing several villiages. We subdued him; but he jumped the coop and I chased him across the territory until I was ordered back to the Keep for more urgent buisness. The Wolfpack Civil War is threatening to spill across our borders, so we have closed them entirely. We are no longer letting refugees or travellers enter Forestman lands without decent purpose. Gonderin put me in charge of the border patrols; so it is important that I maintain our security. I'm glad you're back, it's a lot of work on your own."

"Where are our men?" asked Anardan, looking around at the deserted forest. "There are three hundred of them, in patrols of a score each. They're all out now." replied Elacil, gesturing toward the forest on either side. "My patrol is in the trees back there."

"I'm going back to our Outpost for five days at the most, Elacil. I have some things that need to be attended to. I'll be back here as soon as I can."

"I'd love your company, Anardan; but take your time. I can hold our borders for another week or two on my own. You've been through enough."

I have been through more then most men can boast of; thought Anardan as he mounted his horse and swung onto the road. Some rest will do me good.
Sitting in a midnight glade
Firelight dancing off burnished blade
A Forestman sits
Wondering about the next day
But after three mugs of ale
Let it bring what it may.
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