Classic-Castle Roleplay: April 2005

LEGO gaming, including group role playing games
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Formendacil
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Post by Formendacil »

Grid: M-24
Location: Nearing the Old Ruins

"Come nightfall, we will be at the gates of the Old Ruins," said the Old Man. "It is a city, long since sealed off to the world. Once it was a centre of great power and learning, perhaps the most influential centre south of the continent. But it declined, and when only one mage was left, it was sealed off from the outside, and its magics held within."

"And we are after these magics?" said Elwen.

"Not exactly," replied the Old Man. "The magics of the city are essentially the same as those in Dametreos as a whole, and thus impossible to remove. No, what we are after is an artefact that was created by the mages of the city in the long, distant past. It is a magical artefact, and a very powerful weapon at that. We seek to destroy it."

"Not to retrieve it?" asked Elwen. "But surely you wish to use it against the Dark Lord?"

"The artefact may be used by any wizard, but it's peculiar power is such that while it can be used perfectly against any magician of equal or lower power, any one of greater power would be unaffected. And there is none in our cause that can match or come near to matching the Sorcerer-king's Master."

"But if he got HIS hands on it..." Sir Dractor left his sentence hanging.

"What I don't understand it where I come in," said Elwen.

"The mage left a way for someone to get into the city from the outside, a way for someone to not only get in, but to control to artefact and the city's magic. He left traces in the wilds of the Royal Knight colony, by Wraith Cove, and in our own homeland. Traces that, taken together, would result in a person who could wield and control the city power."

"I know about the crown from the Royal Knight lands," said Elwen, "and the gem from Wraith Cove. What came from our lands?"

"You!" said the Old Man. "You were born in the wilds. Your mother was eight months pregnant, and you came unexpectedly as she and your father went to visit some friends. The place that you were born was imbued with the same power as that valley or Wraith Cove. Your mother was worn out with the labour of giving birth, and was unconscious while your father held you. Then, just as the statue appeared in the valley, and the figure in Wraith Cove, a smoky shape of a man appeared.

"The figure said nothing, but put his hand on you, and marked you with a magic none could see, but I, and others, could feel. Your father, very worried, came to see me as soon as he might. I advised him that it was nothing to worry about, but I was intrigued by the magic aura about you, and began to research the place. My studies brought me information of a city, in far-off Dametreos, where once a powerful magic weapon called the Wizardsbane had resided. I was then led to go to the valley in Royal Knight land. I did not know where to find the city, so it was as much a journey to find the location of the city as all the needed keys to mark you."

"How come I was never told about this?" asked Elwen.

"You didn't need to know," replied the Old Man. "And I didn't know for sure that I would be coming here. I didn't intend to, I intended to leave well alone. But the Dark One forced my hand."

"How?" asked Elwen.

"Do you remember that night, four months ere we left, when the border province was overrun with small parties of goblins?" asked the Old Man.

"Yes," said Elwen. "Sir Dractor's mother died that night. He was with you, me, and and my father. Did that have something to do with this?"

"Sadly, it did," said the Old Man. "Somehow the Dark One had gotten wind of my studies and enquiries, and learned of the artefact. Learned a great deal more than me, I suspect, thus allowed the Sorcerer-king to bypass the valley and go right on to Wraith Cove. His intention that night had been to kidnap you. It was only the presence of myself that prevented that. The goblins were a diversion, intended to draw me away."

"What did he want me for?" asked Elwen. "To use the artefact for him?"

"No," said the Old Man. "Much worse. You are the only one, other than the long-dead mages, that could access and use the power of the artefact, while it was in the city, but even you could not remove it from the city. Once removed though, anyone could use it. No, the reason the Dark Lord wanted you was to remove the artefact."

"But you said..."

"I said that you could not remove the artefact," said the Old Man, "but it could be removed, it could ONLY be removed, THROUGH you. Through your death. Sacrificed in the proper way, your death would terminate the city's magic, and allow anyone to remove the artefact."

Elwen had gone very pale, and was shivering ever so slightly.

"But I will not allow that to happen to you," said the Old Man. "And neither will Sir Dractor. If our homeland is to be saved, I CANNOT allow it to happen. If you die, we all die. And the Sorceror-king has one thing working against him: he chose Bernard Quorandis to help him. I rather suspect that that will prove to be a fatal error on his part, a very fatal error."
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Post by Lord_Of_The_LEGO »

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:"I wouldn't want to meet ye up a dark alley." he said, then turned away. The prospect of having his throat split open made him thirsty.

"I need...a pub."
It took Viktor a long time to find a bar that was not empty, but at last he found one at the far east end of Port Crowne, a decent-looking shack with some fine, if not firey, brew.

After a good sup, Viktor returned to the streets, finally returning to the square where the coronation had been held. The mob had been disperced, and now gloomy-faced soldiers were picking up the pieces. Two oblong shapes on the ground were shrouded. Viktor's eyes moved from the victims of the chaos to the stage itself. It, too, was in shreds. Banners that had not been torn down and trampled hanged limply, and the royal red carpet was crumpled and muddied. On the stage, the red-faced king was shouted madly at a pathetic-looking guard.

"What do you mean, you can't find her?!?"

Viktor eased closer to listen, but suddenly another soldier confronted him

"'Ey, you there!"

Viktor stopped. He reconized this chap. Viktor had slashed him across the face in his struggled to escape the mob.

The soldier's one remaining eye narrowed.

"You li'l son of megablok!"

The burly soldier grabbed Viktor roughly and shouted out, "I found on o' those rabble-causers! I saw him eggin' the crowd! Come back, ta gloat, 'e is!"

Viktor punched the man hard in the stomach, swirved away, and all at once his head made contact with a club. A very, very big club. And a heavy club. He went down like a log.
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Post by lemon_squeezer2 »

It was pure Megablocks. The Royals had attacked suddenly, taking the Falcons by surprise three weeks ago. Stubbornly the seasoned fighters had held their ground, at the loss of hundreds on either side. Night and day continuous bombardments, doomed sorties, and the ever mounting toll of the dead and wounded continued. The quarter mile stretch of ground between the two lines was devastated – from the Dragon Master scrublands all the way to the once fertile plains of the Falcon homeland. Fields were ruined, and small corpses of trees were reduced to stumps. Large as the Falcon army was, it was slowly weakening – nearly a total of two full divisions had already been mauled. The situation on the Royal side was none too pretty either – fresh troops who had been assigned there had nicknamed it “the pit”.

Conversely, there was a remarkable absence of fighting on the northern border. A few skirmishes had broken out between armed patrols, but other then that, there was almost no activity. Ten miles in Falcon territory though, nestled in a small valley was six divisions – all auxiliary troops or on horseback. All were lightly armed, carrying provisions for only two days.

In the ranks of tents was a 19 year old – Howard Nemerov. A year ago he had joined the army, partly enticed by the pay, and additionally he had been looking for adventure of some sort. His father had been a farmer, as was his father before him. Howard was not cut out for that sort of work though, and he knew it. As a boy he had often wandered far from his family’s homestead, seeking out hidden creeks n the forest, and even mapping out a small group of caves that he had discovered in a cliff over a mile away from home. The army seemed like the best option and so Howard had joined.

There had been little adventure in that first month. Hitching a rite on farmer’s wagons, but for the most part walking, he had reached Nutburg in March. He still remembered that first day, walking into the fortified superstructure trying to make the most of his appearance. He was admitted into the 2nd corps, 68th auxiliary. There was no adventure there though. Instead, he faced three months of grueling training, and adjusting to the harsh and rigorously structured military lifestyle. Every day had seemed like the next until June 25th. All of a sudden his training stopped and the entire unit was stationed on the Forestman border digging – trenches of all things. The were no questions asked about this unusual task – all the men knew better then to question orders. Day in and day out was spent tearing up grass and digging into the soft black dirt.

As abruptly as before, Howard’s situation changed again. This time, his division was integrated with another and stationed on the Royal border – right about where he was now. By that time he had gained enough respect to be promoted to sergeant, third class.

It had started out as a normal day the soldier recollected. The first meal of the day had been served, and he had just finished writing a letter to his parents back home. Walking out of his tent he cast a glance to the east where the sun still dominated, the fiery dull red disk magnified so that it covered half of the horizon. Squinting, Howard made out a black smudge, but took little less then a second glance at the curious oddity.

The Forestman lands were a blazing inferno.

Two hours later a mounted messenger rode into camp. Next thing Howard knew, he had been ordered to strike his tent and form up in marching formation.
What followed next was two months of intense campaigning – eight battles and five sieges. The Royals fought hard, but the relentless pace and overwhelming numbers of the Falcons had divided their army.

Now Howard suspected he would be doing the same thing all over again. He had not been briefed – in fact no one seemed to know where they were going, but all had well-founded guesses.

Howard was a first class sergeant now, and as he did a few months ago, he stepped out of his tent gazing at the east with its fertile valleys just about ready for planting. Pausing, he looked north, casting his gaze up the straight dirt road that went over a distant hill, eventually running into Falconis City. Squinting, Howard thought he saw a flash – then a small cloud of dust coming down the hill. He had seen the same scene before – might as well save time and strike his tent now. Quaffing the last bit of beer in the mug he was holding, he thought aloud in a somewhat sarcastic and pessimistic tone.

“Here’s to another bloodbath”
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

KP 2011!
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Post by Formendacil »

Grid: M-24
Location: Nearing the Old Ruins
Formendacil wrote:"But I will not allow that to happen to you," said the Old Man. "And neither will Sir Dractor. If our homeland is to be saved, I CANNOT allow it to happen. If you die, we all die. And the Sorceror-king has one thing working against him: he chose Bernard Quorandis to help him. I rather suspect that that will prove to be a fatal error on his part, a very fatal error."
The Old Man was riding ahead with Jayko, and Sir Dractor and Elwen were slightly behind. Elwen seemed a little ticked off.

"I still don't understand," Elwen said. "YOU knew about this, and I didn't, and I'm the one who is affected by it. How come he told you, and not me?"

"It wasn't the Old Man who told me," said Sir Dractor, "not originally. Your father confided in me. I was his squire at the time you were born, as you might recall, soon to be knighted. When the Old Man asked me to accompany you and him to Dametreos as your protector, I asked him if it had anything to do with the circumstances of your birth. He decided to tell me."

"Why didn't he tell ME, though?" asked Elwen. "He didn't know he was coming. What kind of an explanation is that? He could have told me on the way, or just before we left. All you two told me was that he needed an additional companion on a very important quest, and that I had the necessary qualities."

"You had a lot to deal with as it was," said Sir Dractor. "I guess he didn't want to cause you needless months of worry. You were still recovering from your husband's death, and then your father died just before we left. He didn't want to burden you more."

"And what about YOU?"

"I was doing as I was told," said Sir Dractor evenly. "Although for what it's worth, I saw no reason to tell you any more than he did. You know now, don't you?"

"It would have been nice to know earlier why there was a crown welded to my head," replied Elwen.

"True," said Sir Dractor, "but I've been separated from the Old Man since before that happened, and I wasn't about to tell you during the War without talking to him first."

They had reached the old wall around the forbidden preserve. The soldiers, shocked at seeing visitors so quickly again, took a while to let them in. 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."
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Post by The Green Knight »

Grid: N-10
Location: On board the Mantis

“What the intelibricks happened to you?” Burtrand Storm-Rider stood up from behind his desk as Targon was ushered into his cabin. The Dragon Master was a mess.

“I got my bloody throat slit.” He snapped back. “What’s it look like?”

“Sit down, I’ll grab some bandages. So what happened? The Crusaders catch wind of you?”

“No. I got this from that insufferable woman. Ugh, I’ve never met such a sickeningly independent wench. Honestly, what are they feeding them these days?

Burtrand returned with the bandages and bent down to look at the cut. “Well blow me down!” He exclaimed.

“Pretty nasty eh?”

“Nasty? You shouldn’t even be breathing!” The pirate stepped back, eyeing Targon suspiciously.

“What? Well don’t look at me like that!” said Targon, grabbing the cloth and wrapping it around his neck. “I’m not immortal or anything. Just a little more resilient then most, that’s all.”

“Aye.” Said Burtrand slowly, still eyeing the Dragon Master’s neck. “So how did ye get entangled with this fiery woman?

“Ah, she tried to stop me while I was kidnapping the princess.”

“The Princess! You had the princess?”

“Aye, she’s down in the brig right now in fact, along with that other intractable woman. I had to kidnap her early too. Some idiot decided to move up the coronation to the eighth of April. Don’t worry though. I made sure they wouldn’t finish it anytime soon.”

Burtrand was silent for a moment, stunned. “Well my friend, I must say ye’ve certainly exceeded my loftiest expectations in this matter, aye and ye’ll be richly rewarded. Although, I must say, it doesn’t seem like ya needed to bring the other woman with you.”

“And what else could I do? Leave her there and have her put the Crusaders onto my tail?”

“You could’ve killed her.”

“Humph. I’m afraid I don’t like to do that these days Mr. Captain. Sometimes they come back to haunt you.” The Dragon Master sighed as though thinking back to some passed event and then… “Well hadn’t we best be heading south?”

“Of course.” Said Burtrand, smiling. And he left the cabin.
~
“Smythe! SMYTHE!” Burtrand stepped onto the deck of his ship, looking for his first mate.

“Right ‘ere Cap’in.” said the pirate stepping up from behind.

“Where are the prisoners?”

“Down in the Brig sir. I’ve just sent Ol Marble eye down to give em some food.”

“Excelent. I’ll want to inspect them myself before we embark, to make sure this Targon fellow hasn’t cheated us. But meanwhile I want you to send someone ashore and contact our men there with orders to deliver the ransom note. Then you can make ready to sail. Were heading south.”

“You mean we’re actually taking him down there?”

“Aye, even though I’d rather not. Sometimes I think he forgets who’s the captain of this ship. But still… There’s something strange about him. What did he call himself? Targon the indestructible? Hmmm I’m beginning to believe it. I want you to keep an eye on our Mr. Targon, Sydney. Aye, I’ll warrant there’s more to him then meets the eye.”
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





Ok, enough of that!
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Post by Lord_Of_The_LEGO »

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:Viktor punched the man hard in the stomach, swerved away, and all at once his head made contact with a club. A very, very big club. And a heavy club. He went down like a log.

Slowly, Viktor's muddled senses returned to him. He was laying down, that much as certain. Also, he was on something wet and rough. Stones? Yes, that's what they had to be. He was lying on a stone floor. A damp stone floor.

Something shuffled. Something snuffled. Viktor opened his eyes.

"GAAAAHHHHH!"

The rat that had been chewing on Viktor's beard shot off into a corner with a squeak. Viktor thrust himself up from the floor with an oath, then slumped against the dank wall.

"Ohhhh...megabloks...."

His head hurt like tyco. Oh, when he got his hands on that soldier....

Viktor glanced about. Well, he wouldn't be doing that anytime soon. He was in a cell, a Crusader cell obviously, and there was no way he was going to get out at this moment, in the condition he was in. His weapons had been taken from him -- he could see them on a far wall between the bars -- and his worn plate armor had also been stripped off.

"S'cuse me!" Viktor called out. A grumpy-looking jail keeper appears and grunted.

"Why am I held here?" Viktor continued.

"Yer held on charged of conspiracy to kidnap teh princess, disruptin' teh peace, destroyin' public property, and fer resistin' arrest."

"Wonderful. When do I get a lawyer?"

The jail keeper squinted at Viktor.

"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.
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Post by Lord_Of_The_LEGO »

Rosa had discerned several things in her first hour in the brig. First, Anastasia was a crying weakling of a wimp who probably couldn't lift a teacup without assistance. Second, that the ship that they were in, whatever it was, was not moving. Laterally, that is. Sure, the ship rolling up slowly with the tide, but Rosa had been on a ship before, and she knew what a ship in motion felt like.

Thirdly, Rosa surmised as she watched a craggy, one-eyed man lope his way toward them, we're on a pirate ship, more likely than not.

"'Ello, lassies..." the pirated grinned lopsidedly, revealing black teeth, "I be ol' Marble Eye, at yer service."

The pirate bowed ironically and shoved a keg and a loaf of bread through the bars.

"Eat up, lassies, eat -- gah!"

Rosa had reached forward like lightning, grabbed Marble Eye, and smashed his head against the iron bars of the jail door. Rotten teeth flew wide, and the grimy glass eye popped out of it's socket and rolled across the deck to the feet of Anastasia, who shrieked. Rosa held the unconscious pirate pinned to the bars with one firm hand while she fumbled about with the other, fingering for keys, or a knife, or some else useful.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

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?"
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Post by Sir Dillon »

M-14
Location: A small clearing

Cynan and his men had been traveling over a week now. They had been going slow, sweeping from side to side across the county, making sure they didn’t miss the samurai.

Now, as Cynan looked down a hill at the 15 strong samurai escort, sitting around a campfire in a clearing. He ordered his men to load their crossbows and than started down the hill. He laughed, this would be too easy.

~~~~~~

Kor was tired, but they were almost at Morcia. He chatted softly with his friend and comrade as they walked.

They walked on for some time until they reached a small clearing and stopped to set up camp, made a fire, then sat around it contentedly.

They were just finishing their dinner when Kor heard the “twang” of bows.
Ten crossbow bolts whizzed in, piercing the samurai’s heavy armor. All but one hit its mark among the unsuspecting men.

Kor and the other remaining samurai jumped up and drew their swords, waiting for another volley of arrows, but to his surprise, there was none.

A Knight dressed in black emerged from the trees, along with ten other knights.

The samurai rushed them, but as skilled as they were, they could not hold out for long against almost twice there numbers.

Kor rushed at the one who was obviously the leader, but was cut off by two of the other black knights.

He heard screams as more samurai fell, there was now just him and one more left.

Kor cut down two of the attackers, and leaped at the leader again, this time reaching him.
He swung his sword at the knight as hard as he could. But the knight simply dodged. Kor started to swing again, but before he could, something heavy struck him on the back of the head, and everything went black.
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Post by The Green Knight »

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”….
Grid: J-12
Location: The borders of Fright Knight land after a long uneventful journey through the Black Knight's land

Caimlin reigned in his steed and peered ahead into the gray, sickly colored land in front of him. The land of the Fright Knights. The head sergeant of his company, a man named Kilgrim came along side him to inquire about the halt. He was a typical Dragon Master, much like Targon, Caimlin thought, in his mannerisms if not his ambitions.

“Something wrong sir? Or are we just settin’ up camp?”

“Do you know what land this is ahead of us, Kilgrim?” Caimlin responded looking straight ahead.

“Eh, Fright Knights? But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go on. Fright Knights aren’t so tough.”

“Oh aren’t they? Listen to this, Kilgrim.” Caimlin flipped open his book and began to orate. “About two thousand years ago the factions of Dametreos started to take shape. Capitals were established, borders were set and of course there were battles. For the first five years there were constant squabbles over territories and factions borders were in a constant state of fluctuation, moving and shifting like the tide on the sea.

“It went on like that for quite some time before one faction rose above the rest. It was the Classics. They swept across Dametreos, subjecting first one faction then another, led on by their newly appointed king. Khlarial was his name, though all the masses named him Khal the conqueror. Fierce and indomitable was he, cut from a separate blcok then his father and grand father before him. In time he held all of Damereos in his power and order was finally restored. This is why it is commonly said that the Classics were the first true faction.

“In the time following this Khlarial built the Yellow Castle and divided the lands between the factions so as to rule them more easily. Yet peace and order did not last forever. Khlarial’s rule was a strict and oppressive one and many of the factions groaned under his heavy hand.

“The Taurus clan –who were later annexed by the Knights Kingdom- and those of the forestmen were the rebel, having engrained in their blood the will to serve only those chosen and elected by their own people. These attempts did little at first, to sway the awful power that was the Classics, but it did start a spark of rebellion that spread throughout the land.”

“Did we rebel?” said Kilgrim, interrupting. “Did the Dragon Masters rebel?”

“Well, the Dragon Masters as we know them didn’t exist then. The clans at that time were the Black Falcons, the Crusaders(who were not yet to go by that name), the Forestmen, of whom all the forest dwelling nations were born, and the Black Knights.

“The rest of the factions, they weren’t in existence yet. The Royal Knights were created by a civil war between the lower and royal classes within the Black Knights. Just as many years later, another civil war created the Knight Kingdom faction. I’m not sure how the eastern Knights Kingdom came into being, though I did hear something about appealing to the younger generation, whatever that means.

“As for the Dragon Masters, I did find a reference to some dragon-riders in some of the battles as well as notes about some wizards following in Inion’s footsteps. I do know however, that our land as well as that land which is now ninjara, was largely unpopulated in that time.
As for the Ninjas, we all know about their immigration here several centuries ago.”

“So what about the rebelion?” asked Kilgrim. “How did it end?”

“I’m not sure.” Said Caimlin. “This book is mainly about battles and I believe the matter was finally settled in the courts. Anyway, the Classics let up on the other factions, taking on a more sheriff like role then that of a king. And that’s the same system we use today.”

“Well that’s great, but what does it have to do with the Fright Knights?”

“Only this: About eight hundred years before all this transpired, Verlin the Great vanquished the evil Lord Inion from the earth. Evil was dispersed so that by the time Klarial began his reign, it had retreated into it’s last refuge, The Fright Knight lands. They were inhospitable to humans in those days and because of this, remained unconquered. It was years before outsiders saw any signs of civilization inside those borders, but the most important thing to note is that of all the factions in Dametreos, the Fright Knights alone have never submitted to classics supremacy.

“We should be safe for ourselves, being here on business, but remember what I’ve said before you mock the Fright Knight's strength. Now call up the men. We march straight east, to Castle Dracul and the coast.”

Note: I don't think any of the above material conflicts with already written history, but if you see something amiss please inform me so I can adjust my post.
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





Ok, enough of that!
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Post by Lord_Of_The_LEGO »

Grid: B-18
Location: Camp Maurdord

A single horn blast exploded into the air. The watchman, up on his rickety watch post that rose above the tropical treetops, had spotted something.

“What be ye see, Farsight?” called up a soldier below, using the traditional title given to the watchman.

“A single dragon, soldier, coming in from the northwest.” Farsight replied, still staring at the black dot in the sky.

“Be it a Dragon Master dragon, Farsight?” continued the soldier

“That be it is, soldier.” Farsight affirmed.

This archaic system of exchange was ageless and traditional, as were the honorary titles. They went back centuries like many of the customs of the Dragon Masters of Boranis Dracis, the boomerang-shaped island that was shared by Ninjas and Dragon Masters. If you were to stay for several years in the mainland Dragon Master territory commonly known as Dragonar, and then travel by air or by sea to Boranis Dracis or it’s smaller counterpart, the round-ish island of Monilious Dracis, you would detect quite a difference in culture, speech, and other such features.

Mainlanders were one with the desert and the rock, and had a keen nose for gold and other such luring treasures. Forging and mining was their trade, alongside, of course, the breeding of dragons. They reflected the common image persons of other factions thought of when the words ‘Dragon Master’ are spoken.

Outlanders, as residents of Boranis Dracis were called, considered themselves slightly more refined than the Mainlanders. The whole Boranis Dracis island was thickly enveloped by an extensive tropical rain forest, filled with a wide expanse of animal species; from the poisonous dart tree frog, to the prowling and extremely rare albino jaguar. Most human settlements were along the shore or border lines, and trade with the Ninjas was a frequent occurrence. The Dragon Masters of Boranis Dracis were therefore less warlike, and had few dragon breeding centers stationed. Fires were always too real a danger.

The residents Monilious Dracis, or Midlanders, were a different batch all together. Being completely surrounded by salty bay and sea water and only one fifth the size of Boranis Dracis, their culture revolved around the sea. The beaches and lagoons of Monilious Dracis were plentiful, as were human settlements. Breeding was common profession among the Midlanders, but it was the breeding of sea serpents, the ‘dragons’ of the sea.

But I am getting sidetracked. Back to Farsight and the soldier below.

“There be a single man upon the dragon!” continued Farsight, “He be wearing the garb of a messenger!”

“Your eyes are forever seeing, Farsight!” praised the soldier, and then turned and jumped down to a lower level.

“There be word from Farsight, Torges. He be spotin’ a Dragon Messenger,” said the soldier to another of his own type but of slightly lower rank, “Go with haste and bid Tenders to prepare yonder Landing Platform.”

“Aye, Merrik.” nodded Torges, turning and running off across a rope bridge. Merrik followed more slowly, tracing the steps of the light-footed Torges. Across the bridge he went, and then up two more sets of ladders, coming at last upon a large wooden and roughly circular platform. The dragon with it’s rider was fast approaching, and Merrik, Torges and the two Tenders braced themselves against the ropes strung up around the perimeter as the turbulence from the wings of the great scaly beast beat down upon them. The dragon landed smoothly and folded it’s wings, and the two Tenders rushed up immediately to take the reigns. The rider dismounted and, after unwrapping his scarf and removing his helmet, saluted Merrik.

“Greetings, Dragon Messenger.” Merrik said formally, “Ye be most welcome.”

“Thankful, I am, for your welcome.” returned the Dragon Messenger just as formally, though his accent smacked heavily of Moniliousi and not of Boranisi, “I bear great tidings for the ears of all.”

Merrik nodded. That meant that the news the Dragon Messenger was not confidential, and the Dragon Messenger could tell it freely to Merrik, who could then relay it to everyone else. If the Dragon Messenger had said, “I bear news for the Dragonsbane alone.”, Merrik would have had to taken the Dragon Messenger directly to the Commander-General.

The Dragon Messenger continued, “Governor Jarvick, may he live forever, and his brother Drock, may he live forever, have returned to Monilious Dracis in glory and triumph. Lord Void, may he live forever, has contracted the rebuilding of the Fire Breathing Fortress, and sent Brigadier-General Caimlin, may he live forever, to the most grand Fright Knights to build a fleet of ships to transport slaves for the grand cause of Dragonar! The former Price Hadadar, may he die a thousand deaths, has been rightfully and justly condemned and imprisoned.”

The Dragon Messenger saluted, his right arm folded across his chest, his balled fist upon his heart. Merrik immediately returned the salute, and said, “Breath deep. Fly high.”

The Dragon Messenger mounted his dragon and took off. Merrik left the platform and descended the two ladders, and then three more, at last ending up on the damp and mossy ground of the rain forest. He made his way over and around roots of the giant trees, at last stopping at a large peaked tent.

“Milord Commander-General?”

“Enter.”

Merrik ducked into the tent and stood upright at once and saluting. Two men at a table rose and returned the salute. The taller of the two continued,

“What be your business?”

“Milord, a Dragon Messenger delivered a message not be three minutes past.”

Merrik went on to relay the report.

The tall man nodded and said, “Very good. Ye may go.”

Merrik saluted once again and exited the tent, letting the flap fall back into place. As the two men sat again at the small table, the shorter one, the one with a single eye, said, “That be interesting news, indeed it be, Ajaxx.”

Commander-General Ajaxx Dragonsbane nodded, taking up his fork and knife and returning to slicing his steak.

“That indeed it be, Japheth."

Japheth, Ajaxx’s companion, continued, “You be seriously considering this yon venture, then?”

Ajaxx looked at his friend and fellow soldier with beetle-black eyes.

“I be considering it no longer. The time to enact my plan be now.”
Last edited by Lord_Of_The_LEGO on Fri Apr 15, 2005 10:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Sir Drake »

Grid: Q-7
Location: Prison of Kalai-Dam

After the bumpy ride, Swift was escorted to one of the prisons of Kalai-Dam, the most secured prison on the lands of the Dark Forest.
Swift sat alone in his prison, thinling of a way to get out.
There were some guards in the hall where his prison was located, young, muscled warriors, clad in dark green tunics, these were some of the elite Dark Foresters.

"These are some nice knives you got there" one of the said to Swift, while playing with Swift's curved shortblade.
"Yes, I know, very nice blades, easy to slit someones throat"

The guard smirked and lay the blade back on the table.
Swift concentrated on the guard and murmered something, he was sending a teleharm to the guard.
Then, the guard opened the door and let Swift out.

Swift grabbed his equipment that was on the table on soon left. He searched a horse and exited the prisons.
That was simple, I hope it will be as simple like this to get Varras.

Swift wasn't far of the border anymore and soon, he was in the Wolfpack lands. In the distance a town rose on the horizon, there, he would be heading to.
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Post by The Green Knight »

Grid: D-19
Location: Monilious Dracis

In his private chamber in the High House of Monilious Dracis, governor Jarvick was working. His cluttered desk was filled with charts and maps. Magical instruments for foretelling the winds and tides, longhand calculations and more. He was preparing for a voyage. His greatest voyage ever and perhaps the last from the Dragon Master isle.

The sound of a door opening interrupted his work. Jarvick knew who it was without even looking. Only his brother would enter his private chamber unannounced.

“I’ve completed the preparations for the voyage. The colonists should be ready to embark in three days.”

“Thank you, Drock.” said Jarvick without looking up. But Drock didn’t leave.

“So you’re really going to do it?”

Jarvick looked up at his younger brother. He was standing in front of the door, arms folded across his chest. Slowly Jarvick stood, straitening his tall stately form above the ruin of his desk. He spoke with his usual stern tone, and yet with a spark of excitement in his eyes.

“Drock, I’ve been searching for this my entire life. Ever since I found that reference to it in that book of grandfathers. And with the knowledge I gleaned from my time in Majisto’s workshop I was finally able to find the location. I have to go, Drock. You’ll make a fine governor of this island and yes, I’m really going to Depe’ceala.”

Deciding that there was nothing left to say Jarvick sat down again and once more and returned to his work. But Drock still didn’t leave.

“Yes Drock?” said the first sorcerer in an irritated tone.

“When you did that spell…the Nugaia counter-spell…are you sure you did it right?”

Jarvick leaned back in his chair and frowned. “Well of course! You’re here aren’t you? And made of flesh moreover?”

“Well, for the most part.”

“What do you mean?”

Drock pulled up a stool and sat down in front of his brother’s desk. “Ever since I came back, I haven’t been able to feel my knuckles or the back of my hands. And feel them! They’re harder, less flexible. More like stone then any sort of hide.”

Jarvick reached forward and felt his brother’s hands. They didn’t seem that different to him, Drock’s hands had always been harder and rougher then most, especially his own.

“And there’s the hair on my feet too.” Drock continued. “It’s gray now, and more wiry.”

Jarvick sat back again and stroked his chin. “It seems to me,” he began “that you’ve developed some sort of frostbite from your time in stone. Parts of you became so effected that they didn’t quite heal. It’s a good thing we revived you when we did. The people of this isle might not have agreed with a golem for a governor. I wouldn’t worry about it though. The chances of it getting worse now are infinitesimal.”

“Well thanks.” Said Drock, standing. “It’s good to know isn’t serious. Oh, by the way, if you’re not coming down I can have the cook send up some cooked eel for super.”

“That’d be fine Drock, thank you.” so Jarvick turned back to his work and the second sorcerer left him to it.
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





Ok, enough of that!
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Post by The Green Knight »

Grid: G-18
Location: At sea

It was midnight. The moon was high in the sky, gazing steadily down on it’s rippling reflection in the water of the southern seas. The sea was calm that night, and the waves put only the most lifeless folds on yellow disk. But wait. Another set of ripples disturbs the reflection, crisscrossing over the first set. The wake of a small sailboat heading south. There were three persons on board. Iirick, Hullin, and Thenais. The blind
man sat at the prow of the boat, soaking in the sea air and an occasional splash of spray. His mind was wandering. Thinking back to that first night in Knights Kingdom. How long ago it seemed. And to imagine, all he had learned since then…
~
I-14
It was night time in Knights Kingdom. Thenais could tell by the drop in temperature and by his own yearning for rest. They had made slow progress that day, but at least it was progress. Thenais and Mac had now entered into the Knights Kingdom. It was a peaceful land, with a just ruler and happy subjects. It did have troubles. Such as the great snowstorm which had harassed the inhabitants for a good month. But the storm was gone now, leaving the last traces of it's destruction in the patches of muddy road. This added to the slow progress, but as I said before, it was night time and the two men weren't traveling.
"Another night under the stars." Thought Thenais as he listened to Mac make camp. They talked for a while, about what they should do once they reached a town and about whether Thenais wanted to continue traveling afterward, but they eventually grew tired and resolved to call it a night. Soon enough, both were asleep.
In the middle of the night, Thenais awoke. He sat up rubbing his eyes. Had he heard something?
There was a noise behind him. Thenais turned and nearly jumped out of his skin at what he saw.
"Hello Thenais, I'm back."
"You!" Thenais cried. And before Iirick could even think, the beggar was on top of him. "Demon! Sorcerer! Phantasm! I don't know what you are, but I know I'm not crazy. What do you want with me, Fiend?"
Iirick gasped from under Thenais's iron grip. You wouldn't think a blind man to be a warrior, but Thenais could see his quarry and he wanted some answers.
"I-I want to ex-plain." Iirick managed to whisper.
"You want to explain?" said Thenais. "Now, after you've dragged me out here to the middle of no where! Countries away from my home and friends!"
"Yes," said a third voice. Thenais looked and to his surprise, found that he could see this man as well. "Yes Thenais," The man continued. "I think it's time you learned the truth."
"Thenais?" a groggy voice interrupted. It was Mac. "Thenais, what are you doing up?"
"I couldn't sleep." Thenais lied. "Go back to bed."
"Ok," said the magician. "But try to get some sleep alright. We have to make Clagle tomorrow."
Thenais waited until Mac was snoring soundly before turning back to his invisible visitors. "Alright, I'm listening. What do you have to say?"
"I understand your concerns Thenais," said the man that Thenais didn't recognize. "But please understand that we are just as surprised as you." The man looked a lot like Iirick, although much taller and with a beard. "We've never encountered someone who could see us before." The man continued. "It's hard to explain. I uh... I don't really know how to say this. Have you ever heard of the Men of Valor?"

There was a quiet, tense, moment as Iirick and Hullin waited for a response. Thenais was quiet for a second, staring blindly at the ground. His eye twitched as though a sudden spark of lightning had leapt across his brain and then…he smiled, and the smile gave way to laughter. Soon Thenais was rolling on the ground, howling with laughter.

It didn’t last too long however, for soon Mac began to fidget and threaten to wake.
“So that’s what this is all about.” Thenais sat on soft turf, shaking his head. “So, you two are men of Valor huh? That’s why Mac couldn’t see you before. You’re invisible! The Men of Valor." Thenais repeated. "Oh yes I know about them. Let’s see, how does it go? Ah yes…

“In an ancient time, when the world was young, a tribe of ordinary shepherds and cattle herders lived on a small island in the south of the world. They lead simple lives, content in the own little civilization, built around farming and agriculture. So sheltered and out of the way was their island, that they seldom heard news from the continent. Indeed, few on the mainland even considered them part of Dametreos or paid them any notice at all. This didn’t bother the people of the isle though. They were content to keep quiet and conduct their own affairs in private.

They might have continued like this, living their quiet lives in seclusion, had not it been for the messenger. No one really knows who the messenger was. Some say he was angel, others say he was a wizard. Whatever he was it was certain that he was a messenger.

“News from the north, he brought. Bad news. Rumors of war and a spreading evil. ‘Do not be fooled.’ Said the messenger. ‘Do not think that because you are small and neglected now that you will not be affected. For when the evil has conquered the resistance in the north it will come for this island.’
‘But what can we do?’ the people asked. ‘For we are a small people and unequipped to defend ourselves.’
‘I will provide a protection for this isle” the messenger said. “If you will pledge to protect those who cannot protect themselves.’ The people agreed. Even though, perhaps they failed to fully understand what they were agreeing to.

“But the messenger held to his word and he made the island invisible to all but those who lived there, thus securing it from invasion. And of course the islanders pledged to defend to weak and innocent, and to confront the evil in the north, as was their part in the agreement. Soon they were leaving their isle and setting sail to the mainland. But the messenger did not send them alone, without weapon or defense. That would have been cruel, like sending sheep to assail a pack of wolves and the messenger would not do that. So he gave them a gift. To every man of noble spirit and steadfast virtue, gave he the gift of invisibility. He gave the gift to be their weapon and their defense, and he charged them strictly not to reveal themselves to any man.

“So the began the order of knights known as ‘The Men of Valor’. Invisibly they went about their work, aiding the forces of good in their struggles against the darkness while remaining unseen by all. As time passed the first knights died, passing their gifts on to their sons and grandsons. For hundreds of years they continued their work, all the while unnoticed by the children of Dametreos.

“Was there ever a widow who found a sack of gold in her hovel on the very day her food ran short? Was there ever a shepherd boy who heard a yelp behind him and turned to find a wolf, dead where he lay, crouched to spring? Was there ever a robber who was suddenly struck from behind as he waited to spring on a passing monk, and find himself in a prison when he awoke. Was there ever a traveler warned of orcs on the road ahead by a still small voice? Yes I can tell you with certainty, all those deeds were the work of The Men of Valor.”

Thenais finished and there was silence for a moment before the bearded stranger spoke. “How can you possibly know that?”
Thenais chuckled. “It’s my gift. When you said ‘The men of Valor’, the entire history of your organization suddenly came flooding into my head.”
“What?” said Iirick “How—
“How could this happen? Well it's all very simple. You see, ever since I can remember, I’ve had a gift for stories. Someone would merely have to name a tale and the entire story would pop right into my head. I don't know why it happens, but I always assumed that I had known a great deal of tales in the time before I lost my memory. Though I must admit, this new revelation is quite unlike anything I’ve ever remembered before.
“But…but that still doesn’t make any sense.” Said Iirick. “There are no tales of the Men of Valor. No one knows about them…us. You said that yourself. How could you remember our story when there’s no story to remember?”
“Don’t look at me, I’ve told you all I know. But I would like to know why you didn’t show yourself to Mac that one night. You made me look like a bloody fool!”
“I’m sorry but…it goes against the code. No one is supposed to know we exist.”
“Ha! Well so much for that! I’d say your code’s pretty much blown to pieces now.”
“I wouldn’t have come back to explain,” said Iirick. “But Hullin said we ought to make an exception in your case.”
“Of course I did.” The bearded man -obviously Hullin- said. “This is a highly irregular case you know and we still are no closer to discovering why you can see us.”
“Well don’t think I’m going to go off gallivanting with you again! I’ve had enough of these adventures. Maybe I don’t care if I can see you!”
“You may not have a choice.” Said Hullin.
“What do you mean.”
“I mean, you know our secret now. We have no reason to believe that you won’t tell someone about us. And therefore it is in our best interests to see that you don’t.”
“So what, then? You’re going to murder me? Kidnap me perhaps? I thought you were supposed to protect the weak and innocent!”
“No one is innocent.” Said Hullin. “But yes, we will not harm you. I do urge you to consider your situation, however. If you come with us I can guarantee you a fine room and a warm meal every day for the rest of your life. Should we reach our destination that is.”
“And where’s that?”
“You know Thenais. The place where all Men of Valor live. The Invisible Island.”
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





Ok, enough of that!
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Post by lemon_squeezer2 »

Guterviz woke up with a start from his cot. He felt hot – intolerably so. Lifting his hand up to his forehead he mopped perspiration from his brow. It was still dark and around him were the snores of the several other members of the home guard stationed in Iadoraz.
Slowly he eased his body over so that his bare feet touched the ground, knocking against one of his boots. Then all of a sudden he began to feel sick. For a minute he sat, trying to relax. Slowly he began to ease himself to an upright posture when he felt it again – this time he was almost certain he would dispose of his dinner right on the floor. Clenching his mouth shut he staggered to the end of the barracks to the door.

Outside the sky was cloudy, and only short gaps allowed the faint twinkle of stars to shed their feeble light onto the earth below. Guterviz drove himself a little farther, but a few yards outside the barracks he couldn’t hold it any longer. Gagging, he let a sickenly warm mixture of stomach fluid, last night’s dinner and – blood. Struggling to maintain his balance he stared down at the ghastly combination before he fell over, loosing consciousness.
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

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Post by The Green Knight »

Walf was silent for moment, looking into Jos’s eyes to be sure he was serious. “I’d like that.” He said at last. “I’d like that very much.”
Orion

When the time came at last that the group should be separated, they all gathered in the great room at the Gold Wallow for one last hurrah. And after many fond farewells, they parted company.

Alex, Logen and Keavur(for Dale had chosen to stay in Orion) waved goodbye as they stepped out the door. And in another five steps they had turned the corner and were out of sight of the Gold wallow inn.

In time they found themselves at the south square of Orion, standing beneath the stone statue there.

“So,” said Logen. “To the south?”

“To the south.” Keavur repeated. But before they had even taken one step, a voice called out from behind them.

“Alex?”

Alex turned and to his surprise saw a tall stranger in adventurer’s garb coming towards them, a small boy at his side.

“Aros?”
~
Above the party, the statue watched the warm reunion of the two old friends. Smiles and laughter and slaps on the back.

But the statue didn’t care about this. At the moment he was trying to exercise the movement in his left forefinger. It had been almost two months since his consciousness returned just in time to see the snows of winter recede, and after all that time he was only able to twitch his forefinger. How many decades had he been petrified? With the rain wearing away his stony flesh, birds leaving their dung on his head and moss growing up his leg. How many centuries since he’d uttered the spell to save himself from that bomb in his quarters? It was an assassination attempt. He knew that.

The statue watched again as the group of four men and the boy headed down to the southern gate. It might be a year before he could fully move again. But that day would come and when it did the world would again tremble at the name of Khal the Conqueror.
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...





Ok, enough of that!
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