Classic-Castle Roleplay: April 2005

[Formendacil]

Grid: M-24
Location: Nearing the Old Ruins

The Old Man handed them a letter bearing the official seals and scrolls of the Emperor, authorising them to enter the Old Ruins, and after a moment or two of hemming and hawing, they were allowed in.

"Where did you get that?" asked Elwen, once they had entered.

"In Talistrand," said the Old Man. "From Valentius. I didn't spend all those months twiddling my thumbs."

The Old Man, Elwen, Sir Dractor, and Jayko had reached the gate into the Old Ruins proper, the long-impenetrable city, a day after the Sorcerer-king.

The blueish haze that surrounded the city was no less forbidding or strong than it had been the day before, and there was no sign that any had come before them to the gates.

"What do I do?" Elwen asked the Old Man with a slight touch of trepidation.

"Just order the gates to open, and let us in," he replied.

"Um, alright," she said, and then addressed the gates. "I order these gates to open, and let us enter!"

A brilliant beam of green light shot from the gem on her crown, striking the mist, and opening a hole in it before the gates. Then the doors began to slide open, ready to admit them.

"Leave the horses," said the Old Man, as he dismounted. "We shall have no need of them."

They all dismounted, and entered the city. As soon as they had all stepped through the entrance, the doors automatically closed behind them, and the hazy again covered the gates.

"What now?" asked Elwen.

"We go to the centre of the city," said the Old Man. "So that you can touch the artefact, and control the city's power."

"I can't do that from here?" asked Elwen.

"Oh no," said the Old Man with a shake of his head. "And be on your watch, all of you. The Sorcerer-king will try to capture Elwen before she can reach the artefact. Otherwise, he will be powerless against her control of the city's powers, and his whole journey in coming here will have been in vain. Keep a VERY close watch!"

"So that's why he didn't come here on his own," said Elwen to Sir Dractor as they moved onwards. "He didn't dare try to capture me on his own."

"So it would appear," said Sir Dractor. "And I would call it a most prudent decision on his part."

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

"Yer gettin' no 'un. Yer pub'ic 'ang's scheduled fer tomarra."

"Your judicial system leaves much to desired, good sir." Viktor smiled sweetly.

The jail keeper grunted and turned away.

Something is wrong with this picture... thought Viktor, Now what is it?

Ah yes...I'm not supposed to be on this scaffold...

It was the next day. The sun was approaching it's zenith. Viktor was up on an hastily-erected gallows, and he was surrounded by a jeering crowd. Behind the crowd stood the Crusader king, deadly pale, an angry glare in his eyes.

Woe is me...the poor scapegoat... bemoaned Viktor.

Then something caught his eye. What was it? Viktor twisted his head upward, straining his neck. He could see some type of movement up on one of the two-story Tudor houses, but he couldn't tell what was happening. Then the executioner stumped up to Viktor, and roughly looped the noose around Viktor's neck. The crying of the crowd doubled, and rotten vegetables were tossed.

Why doesn't that son of a megabloks hang those tycos? They were the ones who crashed the party, not me.

Now the crowd had taken up a chant.

"Hang him! Hang him! Hang him! Hang him! Hang him!"

The executioner glanced at King Robert, and king nodded. The executioner reached for the level and...

Suddenly the sun was momentarily blocked out as a behemoth chunk of rock fell from the sky and smashed downward into the executioner. The gallows collapsed, and Viktor was thrown to the cobblestones. The noose was still around his neck and his hands were still bound, but a shard of timber had severed the noose from the beam that had been above Viktor. From down on the ground, Viktor saw with surprise that the rock piece that had crushed his would-be killer was hollow. Viktor immediately jumped upward despite bruised ribs and charged the nearest person, head-butting them and sending them flying. Then he was off down the same alleyway he had been assaulted by that woman, his feet pounding, his hand tied uselessly to his back. As he continued onward, he heard the unmistakable voice of Tim E. shout: "Fear the power of the BURP! Run, Viktor run, and ye owe me a drink when we meet next!"

[TheOrk]

L-12 Castle Dracul Laboratory

Pythos had finished it. He had finished the book and unlocked all it’s secrets. In a time when the ancestors of Legoland lived in mud, a great horde of monsters fell upon the land. They slaughtered the minifigs where ever they found them. The wizards of the era used their magicks to create a dozen swords.

These had the powers of the all the elements of Dametreos, With them in hand the bravest of the minifig tribal warriors drove out the demons, back to the realm of megabloks. There they were sealed, to remain until the end of time, when the locking power of their prison failed to hold togther.

Besides that history lesson. The book contained the secrets of the darkest form of magic imaginable. With this book he could harness all the powers of megabloks.

The rest of the book was a journal of those who dared read it. All who did went utterly insane. Perhaps that was the reason why King Kris and all the other minifigs in Dametreosian lore passed it by.

Pythos was untroubled by the dangers of using it. Half the sanity left in him vanished when he read it the first time.
“Weigraf!” He hissed. Walking into the room was the dark bulk of Sir Weigraf. “It’s time we had a little experiment.”
Several of the Lesser minions of helped Pythos in preperation for the ritual.

It was nothing much. All it would do is give Pythos the ability to balance a small flame on his finger, so the book said. They drew the symbol of a megablok 8x8 in yak’s blood on the stone floor.

Pythos stood before it, the book in hand. He began a long crazy incantation about brix that don’t stick. An errie light bathed the chamber. It turned into a pale green mist that swirled sround him. The lessers sqealed and ran for the door, it was magically sealed shut.
The mist swirled around the entire chamber. Once it touched them their bodies contorted and twisted. When the missed past only a sticky puddle of ABS remained.

The mist swirled around Wiegraf but he didn’t notice it. Pythos held up his other hand. A flame appeared in his palm. Laughing, he read onwards. The book strongly advised not to, it was too much power too soon. He didn’t care.

The flame got bigger until it enveloped his hand. He tried throwing it, it flew and disolved whatever it touched. The it got out of control…
~~~~~~~~

Belzzar sat brooding I his chambers, when he heard a tremendous explosion coming from somewhere below….

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

As he continued onward, he heard the unmistakable voice of Tim E. shout: "Fear the power of the BURP! Run, Viktor run, and ye owe me a drink when we meet next!"

Viktor followed Tim E.'s advice fervently. He ran. And ran. And ran. At least, he ran as best he could, with a noose around his neck and his hands tided behind his back. At least his feet weren't tied. That would have certainly been awkward and complicated things.

Viktor prided himself in being a good runner, and he put his skill and stamina to good use by putting distance between himself and the Crusaders soldiers clanking along behind him. Besides his quick feet, he had another advantage: he was wearing nothing but a tunic and pantaloons. His pursuers had on heaver maille, and in some cases full plate armor. Of course, that left him more exposed, but it was impossible for someone to shoot him while he weaved in and out of narrow streets.

But now Viktor was out upon the docks of Port Crowne. Now he was exposed. Veering left, he ran parallel to the buildings that lined the dock. Then suddenly he was sent sprawling into the water. He had tripped over a cowering mangy cur.

Blasted little son of a--

Viktor sank into the grimy water with his eyes open and was about to kick his way to the surface when suddenly a volley of arrow sliced through the water like piranhas.

Megablocks!

Viktor rolled over sideways and kicked hard with his legs, propelling him through the water and amongst the pilings of the dock. As he surged upward to snatch a breath of air, something caught his eye. Something that glittered at the bottom of the harbor. After catching a quick breath, Viktor dove downward again.

Excellent! It was a knife. With his hands still bound, he maneuvered himself toward the knife and scraped the binding ropes against the blade. Like magic, the ropes parted, and Viktor’s hands came free.

Tyco, that's once sharp knife! thought Viktor, and then snatched it up.

Then Viktor realized he was running out of air, and that from the shadows above the soldiers were approaching.

Time to go...

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Anastasia shrieked again, and Rosa released Marble Eye, cursing. Burtrand Storm-Rider, with Sydney Smythe flanking him, stood grandly, his saber out.

"Targon was right. What are they feeding you ladies these days?"

O-11

Rosa automatically took a dislike to any man she looked at, no matter what they said. But with his opening line, Burtrand Storm-Rider had just put himself on the top Rosa's "Men I loath" list.

"YOU TYCO BLEY NANO INTELLEBRIX SON OF A MEGABLOKS SHIFTY-BRICK!" Rosa exploded, rattling the bars insanely, "LET ME OUT OF THIS TYCO BEFORE I --"

"Do what?" cut in Burtrand smoothly.

Rosa smashed herself against the bars in her fury, ripping her clothes and causing the rusty bars to chafe her skin.

"TYCO YOU! MEGABLOKS YOU!"

Burtrand and Smythe backed away a little.

"Smythe!" snapped Burtrand, "Take ol' Marble Eye 'pon deck. Let the sea air revive 'im. As for these ladies...alert the crew they are not to be feedin' the captives 'til I order it."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n."

As Rosa continued her furious screaming, both pirates ascended the stairs, Burtrand upright and aloof, Smythe hunched over while dragging the limp form of Marble Eye. Rosa's shouting continued for another twenty minutes until she slumped, exhausted, against the bars. The first thing she saw were Anastasia's watery eyes.

"Why'd you do that?" the princess whimpered, "I didn't shout...but they said neither of us are to eat...everyone's so mean....I'm h-h-hungry..."

Rosa would have shouted something vile if her throat wasn't so horse. Instead, she curled in a ball, and tried to get some rest. Then she could plan her escape. And get her revenge on Burtrand Storm-Rider.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Grid: G-7
Location: Vassalton

It had taken many months, but at last, the Rebel Resistance was coiled and ready to strike. In Vassalton, every facet of the Rebel Resistance waited. The Lone Falcon and his team; Randolph, Freena, Vanderdious, Mayriz and others, were in the caves, planning and plotting. Also there were Bersun and the bulk of the Rebel Army, the brawn of the Resistance, ready to fight at a moment's notice. And lastly, but certainly not least, there were the Bulls; Lord Barbod, Dordrot, and Jerral and his group. Soon, they all felt, their demands would be heard. The Bulls would rise again.

The Rebels were like a loaded spring. All they needed was the slightest hint at an opportunity, and Falconis City would be overrun and a new government would be put in place. Little did they know that the thing that would finally cause Martin to submit was passing over their heads at that very moment.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

The plague was spreading. It had started at Iadoraz Freeport, but now was quickly spreading inland, from Gok City to Falconis City and beyond. At first only birds were affected -- ducks, chickens and the like. Then one farmer got sick. Then another. Then it spread to the cities, festering and spreading. Whole villages were decimated. Warned farmers were forced to destroy hundreds of flocks of poultry. Yet the plague came on still.

Ironically, only the Black Falcons were affected by the illness as a whole. The three adjoining nations to Black Falcon land -- Royal Knights, Forestmen and Dark Forest -- were virtually unaffected. Due to the Wolfpack civil war, both the Forestmen and Dark Forest borders had been sealed by order of their respected leaders, and so no people nor goods came in from the Black Falcons. The Royal Knights, while their borders remained opened, had a understandably chilly relationship with the Black Falcon due to border disputes, and not much commerce was exchanged by those two factions.

So the Black Falcons were stuck. Stuck between the extensive ocean and three inhospitable nations. The plague had no where else to go except deeper into Black Falcon land. And go it did, wielding a black scythe of death.

By some twisted whim of fate, it was later discovered why both birds and humans had been affected by the plague. The illness was once a disease that only killed ducks and chickens until one day, for some unknown reason, humans fell to the same symptoms. The Black Falcons were dying of bird flu.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Then Viktor realized he was running out of air, and that from the shadows above the soldiers were approaching.

Time to go...

Viktor's lungs were now burning with lack of oxygen, but continued swimming underwater, his arms and legs pumping, moving farther and farther away from the dock and out into the harbor. He knew he couldn't keep it up long. Even if he was able to rise to the surface and get some more air, he couldn't keep swimming away out of the harbor and eventually into the Fell Sea. No one, no human at least, could do that.

So. What to do?

Viktor's head was now pounding. He needed air now. He'd half to risk getting shot. With a final kick, he shot upward and broke the surface with a splash. He sucked in air, treading water, then shook his hair out of his eyes.

Where the tyco?

Viktor glanced about. Where was he? It took him a few seconds to realize that he was almost completely surrounded by the hulks of ships. To his left and right were waterlogged timbers, and behind him, too, was the aft of a ship. In front of him was the open water. The Fell Sea. He was hidden from the dock. At least for now.

I think it's time to find myself a ship.

Viktor, pirate-like slipped the knife he had found between his teeth and gripped the anchor chain as firmly as possible. The chain was cover with slippery seaweed and other grime, but by jamming his hands and feet into the loops he was able to slowly and painfully haul himself upward to the railing. On the way up, he noted the name of the ship, painted in bright colors: the Bombardier. At last he had made it to the rail. If anyone was on deck, he could not tell. If he was going to do it, he had to do it now.

"Oof!"

Viktor pushed himself upward and tumbled over the railing. He hit the deck, spat out the knife, and was up on his feet in a defensive position. A score of sailors dropped what they were doing and stared at the intruder.

[TheOrk]

L-12 Castle Dracul

The laboratory was hidden in a green haze. Coughing and spluttering Pythos stumbled about, searching for his staff. Finding it, he swung it in the air, dissipating the mist. Almost everything in the room was broken beyond repair. What remained was quickly melting.

It never occurred to him what had happened to Weigraf. There was a massive 10x10 hole in one wall. That was where he had flung the acid ball he was juggling.

Grumbling, Pythos limped over to it. Below was a steep cliff. Waves broke silently against jagged rocks far below.
Weigraf was gone.

Pythos didn’t care. Now that he unlocked the power, he no longer needed him. He could still use Kale though. He was a normal minifig, almost. He could blend into a crowd without any difficulty.

Laughing he limped out the room, maybe they’d blame it on the cat…
*****
Water.

It was everywhere.

Water and darkness everywhere. Weigraf looked around, hissing he rolled on his stomach. He lay on the beach below Castle Dracul. Besides the enormous pain flooding him was one wonderful feeling. Something that he hadn’t had for decades. Freedom.

It must have been that “thing” that hit him. That magical blast must have been some sort of counter spell.

He stumbled to his feet. He was free. The sickening feeling of Pythos in the back of his head was gone. He could do anything, think anything. But at that moment only one thing went through his mind.
Revenge…

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

“I be considering it no longer. The time to enact my plan be now.”

Grid: B-18
Location: Camp Maurdord

Yes, Ajaxx was ready. More than ready. He had been ready for months. Then the megablocks BloodVaine Epic had exploded out of nowhere. But no matter. BloodVaine was dead, he plans failed, his minions dead or scattered. Yes, BloodVaine got what was coming to him. His fate was the fate of all who became greedy. His fate was what befell all magic-wielders. The downfall of all of wizards, magicians, sorcerers, necromancers, mages, witches, druids and other such Satan scum -- had been because of greed. Their greed or someone else’s, it mattered not. That is what magic did to a person. It made them greedy. It made them feel like they were someone higher, someone powerful, someone mighty. Whenever someone basks in their own power, they become drunk with it. Then the downfall comes. The agony, the disgrace, the death. Ajaxx had seen it all before. It was all those Satan-spawn deserved.

If the reader by this time doe not know it already, let me spell it out for you so there will be no confusion later on. Ajaxx Dragonsbane loathed magic. Not only did he hate the power, he hated those who used that power. He hated anyone who manipulated the Mana, or tapping into the energy of Earth Magic. His hate knew no bounds. Even do-gooders such as Bourne the Earth Mage who re-grew the Forestman trees in a night and Voolmark the Wizard who protected many a friend during the Fell War and the quest for the Temple Of Lost Stars would receive a angry look and a curse from Ajaxx Dragonsbane.

Ajaxx was like this for very personal reasons. His entire family -- a brother, two sisters, mother, father, wife, and three children -- had been killed, slaughtered, massacred by a wizard. Ajaxx alone survived. If you thought that he had gotten his revenge when he sliced the wizard to ribbons a year later, you would be wrong. You see, for that year, and years after that, the seed Ajaxx’s anger toward magic and it’s wielders was planted in his heart, and grew like a weed.

Interestingly enough, this hatred did not make Ajaxx an evil man. It did not fester within him, urging him to go on rampages slaughter every magic-wielder in sight. In fact, he grew stronger. He fed upon his inner anger, and molded it to his will. He prospered, became skilled as a commander, and rose quickly through the ranks of the Dragon Masters. During those years he was not alone. He formed deep friendships among fellow soldiers, in particular: Japheth. They fought and won battles together, and together they became fine warriors. When in 1998 Jorge Dragonsbane was killed during border disputes with the Ninjas, Ajaxx was named the next Dragonsbane, and he immediately promoted Japheth to his second-in-command. Ajaxx was an instant universal hit with the men of the Dragonsbane Brigade. Ajaxx was a good man, and a good leader. Tough, but fair. He never overworked his men, and didn’t punish wrongdoers just to be a warning to the other men. Within a year, his men were undyingly loyal, and the Brigade developed a bond, where every man was a brother of one another. They were loyal, brave, and smart. Their commander’s beliefs were their own. Ajaxx was the brains of the Dragonsbane Brigade. His men were body, and the many arms. They would do what ever he wanted, for they loved him and respected him more than anyone else. Including Lord Void.

And that was the key. That was what made the Dragonsbane Brigade and the man who led it so dangerous. It was a mobile nation of it’s own, and it was one of Dametreos’ biggest kept secrets. The Dragonsbane Brigade was a powerful force. And Ajaxx Dragonsbane was, at last, ready to wield that power.

[Formendacil]

Grid: N-10
Location: Onboard the Bombardier, in Port Crowne

Viktor pushed himself upward and tumbled over the railing. He hit the deck, spat out the knife, and was up on his feet in a defensive position. A score of sailors dropped what they were doing and stared at the intruder.

The sailors were all armed with cutlasses and dirks, although they were all sheathed, Viktor noted. One of them, who appeared to be the mate or the bosun, called out to his superior.

"Yo, Cap'n Broadside!" he called. "We've got ourselves a guest!"

The Captain, Broadside, it would appear his name was, sauntered over from the helm. He was a man of average height, dressed in a blue seaman's coat, and with a finely-plumed captain's tricorn. He had a full red beard, a jolly face, and a patch over his left eye that immediately made one think "pirate".

"Well there, my good man," he said, coming down to Viktor, leaning causually on the rails. "What brings ye aboard me ship?"

"I'm, uh..." Viktor mentally cursed himself. "I'm chasing that ship! The one that, uh, sailed away. Yesterday!"

"The Mantis!" cried Broadside, not even noticing Viktor's vocal clumsiness.

"Uh, sure- I mean! Yes!" said Viktor.

"Then are you a foe or a friend to that scurvy cutlass, Burtrand Stormrider?" The way that Broadside asked led Viktor to suspect that it was wiser to say foe.

So he did: "I'm a foe!" said Viktor. "I'm pursuing him. He, he... he owes me a life!" There, he thought, that sounds vaguely serious enough, and not the sort of thing he'll pry into.

"Well then," said Broadside, heartily. "Then ye are in good company! For I am Admiral Jacques Broadside, Retired, a privateer of the Crusader nation, and keen rival of that sneaky cur, Stormrider. I had hoped to run into him in Anka Dolour, but that was not to be. Boys!" Broadside called the crew. "Raise anchor, lower sails! Set us on a course southwards! We chase the Mantis."

"Can this ship catch Stormrider?" asked Viktor, remembering what he knew about the famed pirate. "I thought his ship was legendarily fast."

"So it was, so it was," said Broadside with a chuckle, "but that ship sank off Kingdom Isle over a year ago! This Mantis he sails in now is a decent ship, but no item o' legend. The Bombardier'll catch her, given enough time. She's a decent fast ship, although no Sea Serpent, like the mad Blunderhaussen woman commands. We made it up from Talistrand in under a month."

"There's much trade between Talistrand and Port Crowne?" asked Viktor politely, although anxiously noting out of the corner of his eye that a Crusader patrol boat had rowed into view of the Bombardier.

"Nay!" said Broadside with a laugh. "There's a wee bit o' trade, but not much. Nay, I was simply looking for any other place to be, and with the weather having finally turned for the better, I came northwards, and heard that ol' King Richie dead, and his brother Robert about to be crowned, so I decided to come this way, and view the ceremony. Had a great seat, by the way. There isn't a man alive what doesn't live his country more than I do.

"Although I really don't like our new King Robbie. He's a nice enough man, I s'pose, and it's real sad about 'is daughter, and there's no denyin' he loves this country, but he's got his mind set on rebuilding the navy- which isn't no bad thing, I turned private after being discharged- and on cracking down on pirates.

"Now, I'm no pirate, just a loyal privateer. D'you what the difference is?" Viktor, still watching the boat, shook his head. "A pirate, like that bugbag, Stormrider, serves only himself. A privateer serves his country. Even if they don't want him, or didn't commision 'im.

"That's the problem though. Without a Letter o' Marque, if that rebuilt navy comes after me, I've got no defense. Man o' War though she be, the Bombardier's no match for an entire navy."

"Judging by what you just said," said Viktor, very calmly turning to Broadside, "I assume that you'll have no objections then to repelling or outrunning those soldier."

He directed Broadside's one-eyed gaze towards the patrol boat, which, sure enough, was headed directly for the Bombardier, having caught sight of the man on board.

"Ahoy the Bombardier!" called the sergeant. "We're coming aboard to take that man! He's a dangerous criminal. Be cooperative, and you'll come to no harm."

"It pains me to set meself against my own countrymen," said Broadside, "but you're right, I don' care much for laws and orders. And a chance to give Stormrider the boot only comes once in a lifetime.

"Go back where ye came from, ye pompous soldier-boys!" he yelled at the coming boat. "Or I'll send ye back to yer mommas all weeping!

"Bill!" he yelled at the mate. "Full sail! Get us out o' here!"

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

"Go back where ye came from, ye pompous soldier-boys!" he yelled at the coming boat. "Or I'll send ye back to yer mommas all weeping!

"Bill!" he yelled at the mate. "Full sail! Get us out o' here!"

Grid: N-10
Location: Onboard the Bombardier, in Port Crowne

The instant the soldiers in the rowboat knew Broadside wasn't going to comply, they put their backs into rowing and sped toward the harbor, shouting at the other soldiers at the dock. On board the Bombardier, Viktor was surrounded by a flurry of activity as the sailors -- Or were they pirates? Viktor wondered -- made sail and raised the anchor. Viktor glanced back at the dock and saw with satisfaction that most of the soldiers simply stood about arguing among one another or staring dumbly at the Bombardier. Apperently Crusaders were not used to being disobeyed.

"My thanks to ye, Captian." said Viktor earnestly.

"Tisn't a problem, sir, tisn't a problem a' all..." replied Broadside, chuckling some, "Actually I have ye to thank. Ye know where Storm-Rider be goin', and I've wanted to catch that tyco fer years now.

Viktor forced a smile, then turned away.

This is a problem thought Viktor, this fellow thinks I know where this pirate is headed. Well...I guess I'll just have to fake it...at least 'till I get out of here...

"Where too?" Broadside interrupted Viktor's thoughts.

"Err..." Viktor mentally spun at bottle, "South. Yeah. South."

Broadside nodded.

[The Green Knight]

Grid: D-19
Location: Monilious Dracis

A large crowd was gathered at the ports of Monilious Dracis. Citizens of every rank and class, all present to witness the final embarking of the Silboralic. And for many, the last chance to see their friends and family before they set sail on their conquest of colonization. High on the gangplank, Jarvick addressed the crowd.

“People of the isle! We stand today on the brink of a great expedition. One of great discovery and conquest. My men who accompany me and these brave citizens, men, women and children who go to colonize that great land of our intent- they are all deserving of our highest respect and honor in light of the great quest on which they will soon embark. From the beginning of time, the Dragon Masters have set themselves to conquer, rule and destroy. It is our way, the way of the Dragon Masters. Our legacy if you will. But there’s more to the legacy. For the way of the Dragon Masters is also the way of exploration, conquest and colonization.

“Good citizens. People of the isle. With you and this land lie all the best hopes and wishes of my heart. But I cannot stay. I go now to the land of Depe’ceala, the birthing ground of the Great Water Dragons. In my absence, I leave the government of this isle in the capable hands of my brother Drock, who has shown his devotion and love for this land many times.”

Jarvick turned to Drock, who solemnly removed his silver circlet and knelt on the plank. Jarvick then removed his own circlet and held it over his brother’s head.

“Drowleven’inick of the line of Sevint’h, I hereby bestow and confirm upon you, the title and rights of High Governor and First Sorcerer of the Dragon Master isle.” Jarvick finished and placed the golden circlet onto his brother’s head. “Arise.”

Drock stood, still shorter then his brother. “May your garments always be white.” He said.

“And may your head lack no ointment.” Jarvick finished

The two sorcerers stared at each other for a moment, but no other word was said till Jarvick boarded the Silboralic and Governor Drock descended to the docks.

Then the anchor was weighed, the crowd gave a loud hurrah, and the Silboralic moved westward. On a course that would send it past the A latitude and away from Dametreos.

[The Green Knight]

O-12
It was night. Targon was on deck or rather, sitting on the lower rigging with his boots on the bulwark, and staring out over the water. His mind was busy contemplating his next course of action. He would capture one of the southern isles and set up a kingdom for himself. That was his plan, though he didn’t know how he would accomplish it. Targon had no army, no allies and no way of knowing what he was up against. He was “flying by the seat of his pants” as the Dragon Masters would say. And Dragon Masters know about flying.

Targon did have one consoling gift however and he turned it over slowly in his hand, watching the moonlight glint off its smooth, polished surface. It was the rock Caimlin had given him all those years ago. The sergeant had told him it was magic, only to reveal later that it was all a cruel joke. The smooth rock with a deep shade of green was only a common stone Caimlin had picked up by the roadside. But Targon knew the truth about the stone now and he could take some comfort in that knowledge. He stared into it now, his mind roving back in time.

But be warned Targon. You will come to a bad end someday, if you continue in this path.

The words from Targon’s past echoed like a ghost in his head. “Shut up, would you!” the Dragon Master shouted at the stone. Targon started. The sound of his voice surprised him. “Is that my voice?” he thought. Whatever sweetness the Dragon Master’s voice might have possessed was utterly gone. Now it was all growls and gruffles.

“Megablox!” Targon swore. “This is all the work of that bloody woman!” The Dragon Master reached up to his neck. Yes, that was going to leave a scar. And one that wouldn’t ever go away most likely. “I guess the saying true then.” Targon growled to himself. “Most women like scars, but some women like giving them.”
~
In his cabin, Brutrand Storm-Rider twisted the tip of his hefty moustache, as he sat grimacing at his desk. He had a strange premonition of woe upon his mind and he didn’t know why. And that- that worried him.

“Bah, ye’re brewing trouble where there’s naught but sun.” Burtrand consoled himself. After all, wasn’t everything going according to plan? Right about now his men should be delivering the ransom message with the pirate’s demands while he was miles away with the princess. Yes, the king would have plenty of trouble. What with his daughter kidnapped and the coronation called off (the ransom note making sure it stayed that way) and whatever trouble Targon had created in the capitol. Yes, things couldn’t be running smoother.

Well, there was that venom spewing she-bear down in the brig. Burtrand had contemplated having her walk the plank, but they were in too much of a hurry to do it proper and besides, watching them starve was much more amusing.

At that moment Sydney Smythe barged into the captain’s quarters. “Cap’in Cap’in ye’ll ne’er believe what I saw!” The first mate seemed out of breath, grabbing the desk for support and knocking over a sack of doubloons and the sextant in the process.

“What’s wrong with you, ye bloody sea-rat!” Burtrand cursed, whipping out his saber and striking Sydney across the head with the hand guard. “Ye don’ just come barging into my cabin like ye’re staggerin’ drunk!” The captain moved around his prostrate mate and closed the door. “Arr, ye’ve been taking lessons from ol’ marble eye and dipping into the grog barrels again I’ll wager. I’m not sorry he got all his teeth put out!”

“Aye,” said Smythe, pulling himself up “It’s rather a blessin’ at that. Some o the men were gettin’ a little itchy with the women on board, but now that they sees what happened to him they’re avoiding the brig like the plag— Wait, but—but no, that’s not what I came here to tell ye! Ya see—”

“Well that’s good news.” Said Burtrand, interrupting. “Heaven knows this land has enough illegitimate heirs already.”

“But—but that’s not what I needs to tell ya!”

“Oh really?” said Burtrand, sitting down again on his chair.

Smythe nodded. “Aye, ye remember ‘ow ye told me to keep an eye on that lan’lubber? Aye? Well, I keeps an eye on ‘im see? Cause I arways does as ordered, I does. Arr, an what does I find ye ask?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Oh yeah, that’s right! He’s got a magic stone, that’s what! I heared ‘im talkin’ to it. Aye, course I can’t prove it’s magic, but I’ll bet me golden tooth that’s what ye’re lookin’ for.”

Burtrand was silent for a moment and then… “We don’t know if this is it, Mister Smythe, but thank ye for your help. You will keep keeping an eye on this man until we know for certain. Davey Jones knows I’d like to be indestructible. And if what you say is true then I wouldn’t mind taking that stone fer myself. Aye, I promised to deliver him to one the southern isles but whether he’s delivered alive or not makes no dif’rance to me. You’re free to go Smythe.”

As the first mate exited the cabin Burtrand fell to thought. He knew now why he had the premonition. Truth was, Burtrand was worried that history would repeat itself. After all, he was headed south with both a magical item and a kidnapped prisoner onboard.

But there was, as Burtrand thought, one consolation. “At least we’re not being followed.”

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

"Where too?" Broadside interrupted Viktor's thoughts.

"Err..." Viktor mentally spun at bottle, "South. Yeah. South."

Broadside nodded.

O-12

Somewhat to Viktor's surprise, the Crusaders didn't even bother to follow the Bombardier once it had left the harbor.

"Them soldier types," Broadside explained, "They knows there are too many pirates out there to be bothered with one excaped refugee and a ship that refused to heave to. They'll spend their depleted resources on chasing real toubles, like slavers and raiders."

Viktor was releaved to hear that, but his relief was short lived. Already the evil of the sea was creeping upon him.

"Ye best get below deck an' take to a cot, sir." suggested Broadside, "It takes landlubbers like you a few days to adjust to the sea's whims."

Viktor nodded, well aware he probably was begining to turn green.

"I'll...be below..."

"Right." nodded Broadside, "I'll send Bill with you to find ye
a cot."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

0-13

Well, there was that venom spewing she-bear down in the brig. Burtrand had contemplated having her walk the plank, but they were in too much of a hurry to do it proper and besides, watching them starve was much more amusing.

It wasn't the hunger that Rosa hated the most. She had suffered with hunger many times when she was virtually enslaved at the Broken Mast Inn. Nor was it the nausiating rocking of the ship. That's how she had ended up at the Broken Mast Inn. By ship. So she was used to that too.

No, what she hated the most was her cell (and sole) companion: Anastasia, the Crusader princess. She had to be the most spoiled little tyco that Rosa had ever known. When she wasn't crying, she was whining. And when she wasn't whining, she was alternatally begging and ordering Rosa to free her. Right now she was in her whining stage.

"I'm...so hungry..." Anastasia moaned. She was lying on her side, clutching her stomach with both feeble hands.

"Shut up before I feed you this bar." muttered Rosa. She was grasping a short length of extremly rusted and corroded metel. She had pried it from jail around them. It had been hard. First she had had too kick at one side with all her might so as to snap it from the rest of the metal mesh, then she had had to slowly and painfully level and pry on that loosened bar so that the other end snapped, rendering a five inch long rod. So far Rosa had found no use for it, but she certainly didn't want her efforts wasted. She kept the bar, either holding on to it to threaten Anastasia, or hiddened under her now grimy blouse when the pirates came to leer. Yes, she'd find her opprotune moment...it would come...it would come...

[Sir Drake]

Deleted to fit more in the RP .