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Classic-Castle Roleplay: May 2005

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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Fri May 27, 2005 2:59 am

Even if he had lost the advantage of surprise, Johnson was sure he could best the Bombardier. The two longboats had surged forward to their targets when something totally unexpected happened.

First, a massive cloudbank rolled over the moon, blocking out whatever light there was.

Secondly, the Bombardier began to move away, towards the Aterops of all things.

And thirdly, another ship had swiftly moved between Johnson and his target. By the looks (and smell) of it, it was a pirate vessel.

Johnson did not like his situation. Not one bit. Suddenly though, a spark of an idea flashed through his head. He called out to the other longboat, some twenty feet away.

“Board that ship! Forget the Bombardier – We’ll get her later!”

The men looked up at their captain, surprised. Still, they rowed on, trusting that his judgment was for the better.

Korgan was a smarter pirate then most, but he did have one shortcoming – faulty memory. He had seen the two frigates that evening, but now he had convinced himself that the closer one was the Crusader ship – not the Bombardier which was now making its way to the Aterops. Whatever his shortcomings, he had noticed the alarm, and thought he had been sighted. This also completely left him shocked and unprepared when forty determined Crusaders armed to the teeth boarded his ship.
"Bite off more than you can chew, then chew like heck"

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Postby Formendacil » Fri May 27, 2005 9:28 pm

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington, in the southern Dark Forest Fell Isle territory.

Formendacil wrote:"I'm looking for one Harold Brakespeare. I was told I could find him here," said the big man.

"That's true," said Thomas. "He's my grandfather. I'm Thomas Valt."

"Pleased to meet you," said the warrior. "I am Sir Dractor."

Thomas accompanied Sir Dractor back to the village, and led him to his grandfather's home. They talked little along the way, as Sir Dractor didn't seem to be the sort to talk a lot to strangers, and Thomas was a little too in awe of him to say anything himself. However, Thomas did gather that the big knight was hoping to get a new suit of armour, and that he wanted the best. Thomas wished him luck, but doubted that he would have much, as his grandfather had turned down just about everyone who had sought his help as long as he could remember.

At the house, Thomas opened the door for the big knight, and directed him in.

"Grandfather will be in the back, in his smithy," he said. "Wait here, and I'll get him." Minutes later, he returned with Harold Brakespear.

That the old man was a smith, there was little doubt. He had the massive muscles of one accustomed to hammering and lifting ironwork. He walked with a slight stoop, and a pair of circular spectacles rested on his nose and ears. A rather expensive luxury there. Few in Dametreos could afford the cost of spectacles.

"Sir Dractor?" said Brakespear, introducing himself. "My grandson has told me that you wished to meet me. I'm Harold Brakespear."

"Pleased to meet you," said Sir Dractor, gravely shaking his hand. "I have been told, Master Brakespear, that you are the greatest living armoursmith in Dametreos. I have need of your services, if you will allow it."

"A full suit of armour, I would assume," said Brakespear. "Helm, body armour, etc, etc."

"And a sword," said Sir Dractor. "This axe, while suitable, is only a temporary measure. I am used to carrying a sword, and I'd prefer a somewhat more dependable weapon. Axe handles are rather undependable, and liable to break at the worst possible time."

Brakespear nodded, a bit bemused. He had never heard such a complaint before. Although most axe-wielders he knew were probably not doing the same sorts of things as Sir Dractor.

"I'll think about it," he told the knight. "Although I should probably tell you that I have refused most commissions these last fifteen years, in spite of some rather impressive promises on the part of the prospective buyers."

"The decision is yours," said Sir Dractor. "I have come to you only because I want the best. Where do you advise I stay while I wait for your decision?"

"Mistress Korbalt takes in boarders, when she can," said Thomas. "I think she has an empty room. I'll show you the way."

"Don't bother," said Brakespear, pushing himself up from his chair with his cane, which he seemed to carry mainly for ornamental organisms. "Healer Melkan wanted to see this afternoon anyway. I'll show Sir Dractor the way on my way over."

Sir Dractor thought he detected a faint twinge in Brakespear's eye at the mention of the healer, but Thomas didn't seem to notice anything, and Brakespear seemed healthy enough.

They walked out into Hemmerington, and across the village, and Brakespear left Sir Dractor at the home of Mistress Korbalt. Sir Dractor went in, and met the lady, and her three young, strapping (and somewhat dull-witted) boys, and arranged to stay there.

It turned out that the Korbalt boys were friends of Thomas', and when Brakespear ended up spending supper with Healer Melkan, Thomas invited himself over to the Korbalts' for supper. Mistress Korbalt was glad to have the company, and the boys were having a grand time with him, but Sir Dractor figured that the real reason that Thomas was there was curiosity about him.

"So what brings you to Hemmerington, Sir Dractor?" asked Mistress Korbalt. "We hardly ever have royal visitors."

"I'm hardly royal," said Sir Dractor. "I'm here to see if I can get Harold Brakespear to make me a new suit of armour."

"Good luck with that old fellow!" said one of the boys. "Your granddad's a pretty tight fellow, eh Tom? He hasn't done a commission in, what, years?"

"What happened to your last suit of armour?" asked another boy. "You must have had one."

So Sir Dractor launched into a colourful rendition of his part in defeating the Sorceror-king. The boys and their mother listened attentively, but it was Thomas who was worth seeing. His eyes were wide as he listened to the tales of great adventure and perilous battles. This man, Thomas could tell, was a great hero.

And as he went home that night, and told his grandfather about his day, that fact was first and foremost on his mind. And after all, had he not seen plain evidence of it that morning?
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Postby The Green Knight » Fri May 27, 2005 11:11 pm

Meanwhile, on the wharf, O’brion stood scratching his head. What did the man mean “this is where they came ashore”? If he was speaking of Burtrand and the princess it hardly seemed possible.
O’Brion ducked as he entered a tavern near the docks. Five of his men followed him in, the rest being split up to search for Burtrand. “What am I doing?” O’brion muttered to himself as he scanned the rowdy bar patrons, looking for Burtrand. “Following the lead of some crazy seaman…”

“Excuse me,” he said, approaching the bartender. “Have ya seen a pirate with a young girl around these parts?”

“Pirates?” said the flustered bartender slamming two mugs down in front of some thirsty customers. “No, I don— Hey, put that down! Ya’re gonna break it’s antlers off!”

O’Brion turned to see who the man was shouting at. Some drunk hanging off of the stag head above the mantle. Indeed the whole bar was unusually rowdy.

“Sorry about that.” Said the tender returning to O’Brion. “What was it ya wanted again? Somthin’ about a pirate? Oh, my name’s Yill by the way.”

“Pirate?” said a man a man sitting near by on a stool. “Who’s lookin’ for a pirate?”

“These men are.” Said Yill “Mr… Oh, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

“O’Brion” said O’Brion. “And I’m looking for a pirate named Burtrand.”

“Hmmm” the man on the barstool scratched his chin. “This Burtrand feller… was he sorta tall with a big moustache an’ a tricorn hat?”

“That sounds like him,” said O’Brion. “Did he have a girl with him?”

“Hurm, can’t say, though he did have somthin’ draped over his shoulder. I caught him on me ship this mornin’. Looked like he was trying to stow away or somthin’. I called for the guards but when I turned around he disappeared. I don’ know where he went but I can tell ya he ain’t on me ship. Not a corner did I leave unsearched when I went lookin’ for him.”

O’Brion was a shock. Could Burtrand really have escaped with the princess and gotten to shore. But O’Brion’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a shout from the front door.

“Bobart! Where are ya? Show yarself ya bloody PIRATE!”

Yill looked at the newcomer and groaned. “Who’s that?” O’Brion inquired.

“Don’t pay any attention ta him.” Said the bartender.

“Yeah” said the man on the barstool, raising his hand to shield his face. “That there’s Skarp, the village idiot. A kegger in the worst sense of the word. Though I ‘d like to know what he wants with me.”

“What? You’re the Bobart fellow he’s lookin’ for?”

“Captin’ Bobart actually but don’t say it too loudly. I’d like ta have this drink in peace.”

It was too late however, for the swaggering man had already found the captain and was making straight for him. “BOBART!!” He called, eyes flaming. “Where’s yar son?”

“What?” said the captain “What do ya want with him?”

“WHAT do I WANT with him?” The crazed drunkard shouted, taking a stool beside Bobart. “The bloody Tyco stole mah fishin’ boat that‘s what!!”

“Ah please.” Said Bobart, turning away. “Ya prob’ly jus’ got drunk and forgot ta tie it up.”

“DRUNK!!?? Drunk!!?? Well awright maybe I did have one ta many. But is that any reason far yar son ta steal ma boat while I’m sleepin'.

“Well how do ya know it was Robby then eh Skarp? ‘specially if ya were asleep the whole time.”

“Ahha! Well I wokes up see? An’ I sees him out on the water in ma boat! Course I didn’t see him too well –his bloody hat was over his eyes- but I saw who was with him! An’ I asks maself, What lady in this town would have the money ta buy a dress like that? Certainly none of the common folk…”

“What are ya getting’ at, Skarp?”

“Don’t insult ma inteli— intelee— Don’t insult ma brains, Bobart. Ya know as well as I do that yar son is the only one courtin’ the mayor’s daughter. Aye, an’ what a shame ta bring her inta this felo— felern— inta this CRIME!”

“Wait!” said O’Brion interrupting. He had begun to lose interest in the conversation when it veered off course but the mention of a well-dressed girl leaving the city, suddenly captured it back. “I don’t think it was your son, Captain. The pirate I’m chasing is wanted for the kidnapping of Anastasia, Princess of the Crusaders.”

Yill and Bobart gasped. Skarp burped.

“Quick man,” said O’Brion, addressing Skarp. “What was the color of the dress?”

“Uh, red?”

“That’s it! To the docks, men! Smartly now!”

“But sir!” said one of his men. “We don’t have a ship!”

O’Brion stopped short. “Bobart! In the name of the king I order you ta aid me in the capture of captain Burtrand Stormrider. We’ll need your ship!”

“Ohhh no!” said the captain. “First off, ya’re in Knights Kingdom now, not Crusader land. I don’ have oblige ya with ma ship. Second, I’m not the type of guy who goes for adventures at the drop of a hat. -Though there are plenty of that type in this land- Third, I’ve got my own trip ta make ta the southern isles today. And forth, you don’t have any clue where that boat is headed.”

O’Brion slumped into a nearby chair, flummoxed, stumped and without any way foreseeable way to stop Burtrand. Then it hit him.

Of course! Burtrand had tried to stow away on Bobart’s ship. And if the ship that was headed for the southern isles…it could only mean one thing. Butrand was trying to get somewhere south. And better still, if Burtrand was heading south, then Bobart wouldn’t have to go out of his way to follow him.

“Mister Bobart,” said O’Brion. “I’d like to have a word with you.”

Yill watched as Captain Bobart and the Crusaders left the tavern and turned down the street. “Well,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes. “That made a lot of sense.” He turned to Skarp who was looking as clueless as Yill felt himself.

“What about my BLOODY BOAT!!!” The drunkard screamed in confusion. As if on cue, the bar erupted into an all out brawl.

“Great” said Yill “Fifth one this week.”
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...

Ok, enough of that!
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Sat May 28, 2005 5:59 am

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“Very good, men,” he wheezed, “Japheth, report!”

After a head count, Japheth stated, “Lost sixteen men, sir, at least thirty be wounded.”

“Sixteen good men.” Ajaxx sighed, “Megablock.”

Japheth approached from behind.

“Be it might…a warning?” he asked slowly.

“There be no such thing as signs.” snapped Ajaxx, “This be only a roadblock. One on many more to come, perhaps. But I be ready. Bring it on. Ajaxx Dragonsbane be ready.”

Grid: C-15
Location: Locknest Strait

Five days and only three leagues north later, the wounded Precious was gaining water by the day. Slowly but surely, the Royal ship was sinking. The damage from the locknest had been worse than first predicted, and the pumps could not keep ahead of the constantly leaking water. In his cabin, Ajaxx was bent over a detailed map of Dametreos, a polished magnifying glass positioned over the grid-laced Locknest Strait.

“There be no little islets we could run the Precious onto to patch her?” he asked Captain Dolter.

“Nay, sir. The Locknest be a deep strait, deep indeed. That be why the locknests like it so -- there be plenty of room to swim ‘bout in to mate and feed.”


Ajaxx straightened and looked out the unshuttered but closed pane windows that lined the aft wall of the cabin.

“We be not making to Port Firetresses, then?”

Captain Dolter shook his head.

“Nay. There be not a chance of that, sir. She’d go to the bottom long before.” he said.

“Give me options, Captain.” Ajaxx demanded urgently.

Dolter bent over the map again, a geometry compass in his hand.

“We be having two options. We sail back to Borianis Dracis or Monolinous Dracis…or…we head for Ninjaria.”


“Aye, sir. See, as far I can reckon, we be right near where latitude C crosses longitude 14. Ninjaria be ‘bout the same distance from us as Monolinous Dracis.”

Ajaxx scratched his chin.

“Then we head to Ninjaria. Going back to Monolinous Dracis would be a waste. Ninjaria will be a simple side stop on the way to Port Firetresses.

“Aye sir!”

They both exited the cabin and ascended to the poop deck.

“Mr. Taggard, take her two points to starboard. We be heading to Ninjaria.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Japheth, who had been nearby, approached Ajaxx.


“A repair stop.” explained Ajaxx, “I don’t intend to sink halfway to Port Firetresses.”

Japheh simply grunted in approval.

“Ship ho!”

Ajaxx looked up sharply.

“Repeat, Mr. Tog!” ordered Dolter.

“Ship ho!” repeated Tog, “Be it to the east!”

“Captain,” Ajaxx beckoned, “Your glass.”

Dolter whipped out his spyglass and handed it over to the commander-general. Ajaxx put it to his eye and swiveled slowly about in place until suddenly stopping, backtracking slightly, then stopping again. He squinted.

“Odd.” he muttered, “Japheth, what be you make of it?”

Japheth took the spyglass and looked for a moment before shrugging.

“A single square sail. Odd indeed.”

“May I?” asked Dolter. Japheth handed back the spyglass. The captain put the glass to his eye, focused on the wraith sail for a moment, then said, “That’s a trireme.”

“A trireme?” repeated Japheth, “One of those multi-level ships that use oars as well as a sail?”

Dolter nodded. “Aye. Fright Knights mostly use them. Prime slaver vessels. The cargo can also power the ship, ‘stead of wallowing in the bilges.”

Japheth took the spyglass again and looked at the sail.


“What?” demanded Ajaxx.

“There be more than one.”

As if to confirm this, Tog the lookout shouted out, “Ship ho! I count ‘nuther sail -- pos’bly two more!”

“Three slaver triremes?” said Dolter skeptically, “Slavers don’t usually travel in packs. Be easier to catch.”

“They might not be slavers.” Ajaxx suggested.

Dolter shrugged. “Possibly. They could be warships. But they have no reason being in the Locknest Strait.”

Ajaxx scratched his chin. “If they get any closer, drop anchor and alert me at once. I be wanting to avoid any chance of contact.”

Dolter nodded and saluted.

“Aye, sir.”

Two hours later, Ajaxx was called back up on deck. The three sails could now just barely be seen from the poop deck without Dolter’s glass.

“They be appearing to come right this way -- right up the Strait.” stated Dolter.

“Ah.” Ajaxx stared at the sails, “Run up the Royal flag. Be getting any sign of ‘Dragon Master’ stowed away. Keep the Precious anchored, but leave her sails unfurrowed.”

“That will cause stress on the rigging, sails and anchor chain if the winds be getting gusty.” Dolter warned.

Ajaxx shook his head. “I don’t care. I be not wanting this ship to go anyway -- but appear it to be so.”

Dolter saluted.

“Aye sir.”

Japheth learned near Ajaxx.

“Why this charade?” he asked.

“I be not wanting a risk at exposure,” replied Ajaxx, “I want those triremes to pass us by without a thought. Then we be moving on once they be gone.”


Grid: D-15
Location: Locknest Strait

Onboard the trireme Centipede, Caimlin was in his bunk, reading the book Jarvick had given him. He felt pleased. He knew he had been a bit slow in getting to Fright Knight land and to Anka Dolour, but he was certainly making up for the lost time on the return trip. With a strong wind at the backs of the three ships, and holds full of rowing slaves, the Centipede, Barracuda and Piranha were fast approaching Potter’s Point, a large stretch of cliff face along the as yet invisible Ninjaria shoreline which signaled the approximate halfway-point between Anka Dolour and Port Firetresses. Another two weeks and Lord Void would have his slaves.


Caimlin looked up. Captain Migal Mordorse was standing over him. A muscle twitched in the Fright Knight’s check.

“The lookout has spotted something. Come.”

Caimlin stood and followed the captain to the bow of the Centipede.

“Look, there.” Migal Mordorse pointed. Caimlin squinted.

“I don’t see anything.” he said.

“That is because you don’t have seamen’s eyes.” sneered Migal Mordorse, “It’s a sail.”


“So, there’s another ship out there.”

“Makes sense. This is an ocean. Ships float on oceans.” quipped Caimlin.

Migal Mordorse sneered again.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten something. The Centipede is a slave ship. The Barracuda and the Piranha are slave ships. If that is a Classic patroller, or a Crusader galleon --”

Caimlin saw Migal Mordorse’s point.

“I see. Well. Then. Keep me informed.”

“Very well.”

Caimlin returned to his book. A few hours later, Migal was back.

“It’s a Royal.”


“That ship. It’s a Royal merchant ship.”

“Let me see.”

They returned to the bow. Caimlin could not see a sail, but that was all.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

Migal Mordorse handed over a beaten-up spyglass. As Caimlin looked at the ship, the Fright Knight captain explained, “Look at the flag. Also note the colors of her highlights on the railing: red, white and blue with a touch of gold. Lastly, her name and registration.: J.R.R.T. Precious. Unmistakably Royal. She’s too wide for a warship, and lacks proper armament. Therefore, obviously merchant.”

“Isn’t she a little -- low in the water?” asked Caimlin.

“So you do know something of ships!” snipped Migal Mordorse, “Yes. She is very low. Low even for a merchant ship. And she’s out of place. The Locknest Strait is a dangerous place for a merchant vessel. The captain must not be very smart.”

“Well then, she doesn’t seem to be a threat.” Caimlin concluded, “So let’s just sail around her, then. Give her a wide berth.”

“Very well.”


Ajaxx Dragonsbane, Japheth, and Captain Dolter all watched as the three triremes sailed by in the distance. It took them all day and through the night, but by the next morning they were gone.

Ajaxx breathed a sigh.

“That be good. Captain Dolter, set a course for Ninjaria.”

“Aye, sir.”
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Postby Sir Drake » Sun May 29, 2005 11:06 am

Grid: R-7
Loc. : Daggerfall

Methalor walked through the halls of the Spire. Suddenly Darrath walked up to him.

"Milord" he said and kneeled.
"Darrath my friend, how are you"
"Fine, sir" the captain said and stood up again.
"I'm glad to hear that, now, what do you have to tell me?"
"We received this this morning, it's a letter bearing the seal of the Black Falcons"
"How strange" Methalor muttered against himself "thank you, you can go now"

Darrath bowed and ran off again.

Methalor walked to his room, took a knife and opened the letter.

Wednesday, 27th of May
Falconis City,

Dear Steward of the Throne of the Three Daggers,

With great pleasure I announce that your rightfull King has left Falconis City yesterday together with his companion. He would ride as fast as his horse would allow him and was planning to arrive at his home within a week and a half. He asked me to write this letter so everything would be ready for his coronation.

Friendly greetings,
The Lone Falcon

Methalor smiled, finally peace, prosperity and time to rebuild would strike the Wolfpack.

He left his room and walked towards the throne room. There, he stood on the balcony, behind a bunch of guards, beneath him, thousands of people, doing their daily businesses. From the balcony he shouted:

"People of the Wolfpack! Great news I have received today, your King is returning to Daggerfall. He should arrive in less than two weeks, prepare your finest dresses and cook your best food for peace shall return to us!"
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Postby Formendacil » Mon May 30, 2005 7:23 pm

Grid: H-21
Location: At sea near Anka Dolour

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“You know I will kill you.” growled Viktor, “A knife can’t duel with a sword.”

“You can’t throw a sword.” replied the woman. Like lightning, she threw the knife. Viktor wasn’t sure he saw it fly through the air. One moment it was in the woman’s, the nest, it was in his. Imbedded, that is: the blade sunk deep in the flesh his hand.


Viktor was in terrible pain, but things boded quite poorly for Rosa now, as he was armed, angry, and thus at something of an advantage. However, before anything happened, the door of the cabin smashed open, and Broadside's mate Bill sauntered in with two other men.

"You need help?" he asked Viktor, glancing at the two of them.

"I can handle this on my own," said Viktor through gritted teeth.

"All righ'," said Bill. "But if'n yer comin' with us, we're leavin' quick. The cap'n wants ter be out o' here as soon as may be. King Kendo down in the harbour don' like us none."

"Right, I'm coming," said Viktor. "And this one's coming to. Could you fellows escort her to the Bombardier? I don't think that I can." He looked down at his hand.

"And what if I don't want to come?" snapped Rosa.

"You don't really have much of a chance," said Viktor. "But I don't see why you'd want to stay. It didn't look to me like you got on all that well with the Crusaders anyway."

"Fine, I'll come," said Rosa. "But I want to talk to your captain before you try locking me up or punishing me or anything. What's more, I expect to be well-treated."

"Don' worry," said Bill. "The cap'n won' let any Crusader woman be mistreated. He's got a soft spot fer his countrywomen. Now just ye move along, Viktor, and leave this lady ter us."

Under duress, Viktor did. And as soon as he was back on the Bombardier, he had his hand bandaged. Meanwhile, on deck, Bill was reporting to Broadside.

"We sacked the Aterops o' all her valuables," said Bill. "Didn' amount ter too much. They didn' put up too much of a fight. Gave up when they saw they were too badly outnumbered. We disabled her ballista, but left them with stores and equipment. Our men are in fine shape. Only two sailors and that Viktor fellow hurt themselves at all."

"Good work," said Broadside. "Cut the lines, and make sail. When their cap'n returns, I want ter be long gone, even if 'is men are in no condition ter fight. It's time ter lie low fer a little while, methinks. That Stormrider business didn' work out the way I was hopin'. As soon as we drop off that Viktor, we'll go look fer a harbour to rest in fer a while."

"Very good, cap'n," said Bill agreeably, as the men began to get the Bombardier loose and ready to sail.

"Oh, by the way, cap'n," said Bill. "We picked up a Crusader lady in the Aterops' cabin. She's the one what tore up Master Viktor's hand. Didn't seem to be well-trusted by the Crusaders. We brought her aboard. She wants a word with you- guarantee of safe conduct, I imagine."

"Thank ye, Bill. I'll attend to her once we're underway."
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Postby Formendacil » Tue May 31, 2005 3:08 am

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington, in the southern Dark Forest Fell Isle territory.

Formendacil wrote:"I'll think about it," he told the knight. "Although I should probably tell you that I have refused most commissions these last fifteen years, in spite of some rather impressive promises on the part of the prospective buyers."

"The decision is yours," said Sir Dractor. "I have come to you only because I want the best. Where do you advise I stay while I wait for your decision?"

Harold Brakespear met with Sir Dractor again the next morning- alone. Thomas was out with the Korbalt boys, and wasn't due back until the evening meal. Which suited Brakespear fine. Some things he had to say, he prefered to say without his grandson present.

"As you have probably guessed, I have made my decision," said the armoursmith without preamble when Sir Dractor arrived that morning.

"I have refused every request for the past fifteen years, and I would refuse yours too," he continued, "regardless of how highly you are esteemed by others, and how noble your work might be. However..."

Brakespear trailed off.

"However, I have recently been reminded of my mortality. I am as human as the next man, assuming the next man isn't some all-powerful sorceror, and I'm getting on in years. I don't know how much longer I'll be around, and I want to know that Thomas will be taken care of."

"How much are y-" Sir Dractor began, but Brakespear cut him off.

"I'm not after money here. An immense fortune is not what I want to leave Thomas. I'd rather see him make his own way in the world. And the amount of money I'd have to ask for to set him for life wouldn't be worth it, not even for the best armour in Dametreos."

"I thought that you had earned quite a bit during your years in the Crusader king's employ," said Sir Dractor.

"I did, but that money is long gone," said Brakespear. Sir Dractor found that to be a rather strange statement, since Harold Brakespear seemed to be a thrifty man, with inexpensive tastes, but he remained silent.

"In any case," Brakespear continued, "I have no fortune to leave Thomas, and I'd rather see him get the skills he needs to survive than money. If you will take him on as your apprentice, and teach him how to hold his own as a warrior, I'll make you your armour."

Sir Dractor was silent, thinking it over. The last time someone he had promised to train someone, he had lost the commission not long after. His nephew Aelfred... He had not even seen the boy since then.

Brakespear, mistaking Sir Dractor's quiet for something else, hastened to persuade him.

"He's a good worker, wants to learn. And he's always been fascinated by weapons, soldiers, and adventures. He'll be a very eager apprentice."

"I noticed that myself," said Sir Dractor, shaking himself from his reverie. "No, he would be a fine lad to train. And I... I could use the company. It is a lonely life, as a warrior. Do you want that for your grandson?"

"He wants it for himself," said Brakespear. "It's in his blood. Both my daughter and her husband were wanderers and heroes. They settled here with me in the boy's early years, but when his brother, Thomas' uncle, was held for ransom, there was no stopping them. They were off like the wind."

Brakespear's eyes were no longer focussed on Sir Dractor, but were gazing off into the past.

"It was a trap," he said. "They walked right into it. They were held for ransom too. It cost me nearly everything I had saved all those years. But the traitors played me false. I got back my daughter and son-in-law, alright, but their lives had left them. I've had nothing to do with the Wolfpack since."

"The Wolfpack?" said Sir Dractor, a bit surprised.

"Aye, men of the Clan Houndstooth. They did it to a lot in those days. The other Wolfpack did too. They're an unsavoury lot, that entire nation. Founded on slavers, robbers, gamblers, and pirates. It shows, too."

Sir Dractor kept his face neutral, but he found it somewhat humourous when he recalled the bravery of Willem Blackcloak and Graygon, and many others, during the Great Fire and the war.

"How much of this does Thomas know?" he asked, diverting the conversation.

"All of it," said Brakespear. "Or he did. It has been a long time since we've talked about it, although I doubt he would have forgotten anything, young though he was.

"So will you do it?"

"Yes," said Sir Dractor. "I will take Thomas Valt, and train him as my squire, in exchange for the armour.

"But there is one thing you haven't mentioned, and I hope you won't mind my prying, but what news have you had to remind you of mortality?"

"I don't mind your prying," said Brakespear with a slight smile, "but I'll keep that private, for the moment."

"As you say."
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Postby SavaTheAggie » Tue May 31, 2005 6:08 am

SavaTheAggie wrote:The Wanderer smirked, recovering his head with his hood. Without a word, he began walking away, making his way south and out of the city.

Grid: C-4
Location: Outside a tavern in a small coastal town

"I really appreciate this," she said quickly, handing her patron a mug of ale. Her customer simply replied with a nod of the head, leaning his chair off of two legs and against the front wall of the tavern.

"It's just that," she continued, "well, I can't have the other customers fighting inside, I just can't aford to pay the damages."

The man simply lowered his head to the mug in his hand and took a slow drink.

"I mean, the smell is, well, the other customers were really complaining," she laughed nervously. The man glanced up at her from beneath the hood of his cloak.

"Can I at least get you a room? You could clean up, have a good night's rest,"

"I won't be here that long," the gravel voice of the Wanderer finally spoke, taking another long sip from the mug.

"Can I at least wash your cloak for you? You must be tired of it, umm," she trailed off, searching for the right words.

"I'm leaving on the next ship for the mainland," he replied, staring off into the distance. The night was clear and cold; the crescent moon shown down brightly over the countryside. The faint glow of the dock master's lantern swayed slowly in the distance as he made his rounds.

"Well, at least consider the drink on the house. Just to apologize for having you sit out here..." she sighed apologetically.

"Don't worry about it," the cloaked man said, placing a strange gold coin in her hand. She looked down at it in amazment, flipping it over several times to inspect it.

"This is Ikrosian, this is worth a lot more than your drink, a lot more!" she said with wide eyes. In truth it was worth more than she made in a month.

"Gather your things and sell off what you can't take with you," the man said, guzzling the last of his drink down.

"What?" she gasped.

The Wanderer slowly creaked out of his chair and stretched his legs. As he began to make his way to the docs he glanced over at her.

"When the storm comes to engulf this place, run to the high ground; the less populated the better," he said, turning from her, leaving her calling out questions to him. He ignored them all, instead focusing on the dock master still making his rounds. After a few moments he had caught up to the salty dog, whisteling while walking his rounds.

"Is the ship ready?" the cloaked man asked slowly. The dock master turned around and looked the figure over.

"Aye, she's ready," he nodded in reply, "though I'm not sure how you got old Jack to set sail in the middle of the night."

"Thanks for all the help, friend," the Wandered smiled, handing a gold coin to the old sailor. The dock master quickly pocketed the coin and smiled, lighting the way to the waiting ship.

"This old buzzard giving you trouble, Mister?" a man called out from the deck of the ramshackle ship.

"I'm no more trouble than ye, Jack," the old sailor laughed, coughing toward the end.

"Everything is ready, then?" the Wanderer asked, walking past Captain Jack without a glance.

"Of course, as long as you still have my payment," Jack smiled, turning to follow the cloaked man. The Wanderer held out a small purse and jingled it in the air.

"Set sail, Captain," the Wanderer ordered.

"Aye!" Jack clapped his hands, chuckling, "you heard him, mates! Hoist the anchor! Set sail for the mainland!"

The Wanderer slowly made his way to the bow of the ship, staring out onto the horizon. He was running out of time, he thought to himself. It wouldn't be too much longer before it all happened again, and just like the time before there was nothing he could do to stop it once it began. The only way to keep death from washing over the people of this land was to succeed where he had failed.

"I will find you..." the cloaked man said under his breath.

Give a man a fire and he'll be warm for a day.
Set a man on fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Tue May 31, 2005 9:03 pm

Formendacil wrote:"Oh, by the way, cap'n," said Bill. "We picked up a Crusader lady in the Aterops' cabin. She's the one what tore up Master Viktor's hand. Didn't seem to be well-trusted by the Crusaders. We brought her aboard. She wants a word with you- guarantee of safe conduct, I imagine."

"Thank ye, Bill. I'll attend to her once we're underway."

Grid: H-21
Location: Departing from Anka Dolour

The Bombardier, sail fully piled on, was making a quick getaway from the slave island. Once Broadside was satisfied they were well underway, he made his way to his cabin. Two persons were inside, Viktor and a woman, the woman Bill had mentioned. There were positioned on opposite sides of the room, both glowering at one another. Viktor was massaging his bandaged hand while the woman quietly fingered a long, slim knife. Broadside coughed.

"Bloomin' barnacles, Vikky, ye look at little worse fer wear."

Viktor glared and snarled, "No tyco megabloks thanks to that intellabix shifty-brick there!" indicating the woman with a violent thrust of his good hand.

Broadside turned to the woman.

"And who are ye?" he asked.

"Rosa." the woman snapped, still fingering the knife, "What ship is this, and how long 'til we reach shore?"

"This'n the Bombardier," announced Broadside proudly, "And I be her captain, Jacques Broadside. Why're ye so eager to land?”

“For the last several months I’ve been hauled from one tyco ship to the next!” snapped Rosa, “I want to go ashore.” she added dangerously.

“I--” Viktor coughed, “would like to as well…but not with her!” he added venomously.

Rosa twirled her knife but did not toss it.

“Now, now…” cooed Broadside, “Ne’er worry yes elves…the Bombardier’s shore-bound, indeed. We’ll reach the Knight’s Kingdom shore in a week or two.”

“Fine, then.” snapped Rosa. Viktor simply nodded sharply.

“Well, then…” Broadside coughed again, “Until then, Lady Rosa…er…enjoy yer stay…”

Both Rosa and Viktor glared, and Broadside quickly left his cabin in search of some wine in the hold. The shore of Knight’s Kingdom couldn’t come soon enough, with those two at each other’s throats.
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Postby Sir Dillon » Tue May 31, 2005 9:31 pm

Suddenly there was a great shouting, and the sound of people running through the woods, when a young boy burst out of the brush calling “Sir! Sir! There are Shadow Knights coming!”

Location: a clearing in the middle of some woods

“Shan” Kor yelled “Get behind me!” He looked behind him at the Black Knight; who gave him a reassuring nod, though he was clearly in pain. The boy Shan quickly ran behind him and drew a short knife.

As the Shadow Knights ran through the bushes, they stopped suddenly in front of the armed men, unsure of what to do. The one who appeared to be the leader stepped up to Kor and said in a thick voice;

“Surrender or you shall be killed!”

“Go back to the hole from where you came” Kor sneered “and if you do not, it will be you who die, not us.”

The Shadow Knight chuckled to himself, and then said to his men “Kill them!”
In less then a second after he said it, his head was no longer attached to his shoulders.

The Shadow Knights hesitated for a moment, than charged at the Samurai.

Kor flashed his sword through the first man to reach him, then pulling it out, removed the leg of another. Cynan had limped up to him, and they now fought the Shadow Knights with their backs to each other.

The fight went on for some time, till finally the last couple Shadow Knight high-tailed it back into the woods.

Kor lowered his sword, exhausted. Then turned to Cynan and said “well fought, friend.”

Cynan sat down on the ground, panting heavily. “Thanks” he said, as he looked up at the Kor. “Where did the boy go?”

Kor suddenly looked around “I thought he was right here!” he said franticly.

There was suddenly a voice that came from the woods “Sir Kor! If you want to see the boy again alive, unarm yourself and come towards the woods slowly with your hands in the air.
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Postby The Green Knight » Tue May 31, 2005 9:40 pm

Grid: C-24
Location: At sea

Thenais moved into the shade of the tall sail as the ship continued its path southward. The sun was hot. Very hot and Thenais didn’t like it. Hullin had said they would reach their destination soon, but in the mean time, Thenais had plenty of time to reminisce…
“You know Thenais. The place where all Men of Valor live. The Invisible Island.”

A deal was cut that night and in the morning, when Mac awoke and told Thenais to get ready to leave, the beggar already had plan. When they arrived at Clagle that day and after Mac’s performance, Thenias announced that he would be staying there, in hopes of setting up shop in Clagle. So it was that after a fine supper and a fond farewell, the two men parted company. But if Mac had returned and seen with the eyes of Thenais, he would have been shocked, to see the beggar leaving town with the aid of two invisible men.
It had been many months since that night in Knights Kingdom and still, Thenais was little closer to understanding this strange mystery about his renewed sight.

Why could he see these men- this race of invisible people who no one even knew existed? Sometimes Thenais was sure he was going mad. Maybe he had just dreamed this whole thing up. Like a byproduct of all his stories, rearranging themselves in his head. This feeling came on most strongly in the mornings, just before he would wake. The sun would hit his face and for a moment he would think— He would think he was back in Orion, in his tent in the corner of that narrow alleyway. But then he would feel the movement of the boat and the sway of the ocean, and he would know… This wasn’t a dream.
The first place they stopped on their southbound trip was a small, coastal town whose name Thenais couldn’t recall. But what the beggar would never forget was what happened then, and what he learned there…

“Awright ya bloody scumbaggs which one er ya pilfeed— piffeld— which one er ya STOLE ma grog?!

Yill looked up from the flagon of ale he was handing to a thirsty patron at the bar. Skarp was at it again. “As if I don’t have enough on ma hands as it is” the bar tender mumbled under his breath. “Settle down, Skarp!” he hollered across the room. “Yar mug’s in your hand!”

“Well… howrd that get there? Ah see ya put it back when I weren’t lookn’ eh? Well don’t try it again or I’ll not go sa easy on ya!”

Yill groaned. He hated his job. Probably more then any other tavern master in all of Dametreos, too. Now you’d think after five years you’d get the hang of running a tavern, but… Not Yill. He was constantly having trouble it seemed. Was it him? Did he just unlock some cage that held in people’s sanity whenever they were around him? Or was it them? Maybe the crowds were like this at all taverns and he just didn’t have the knack for handling them. Whatever the case, it was obvious that Yill wasn’t a man meant for running a tavern.

Still, he knew his job was an important one. It had to be, or they wouldn’t have assigned him this post. Indeed, it was only when he had a chance to do his job that he had any enjoyment. Yill loved it every time he could pass on some bit of information to the men. But alas, even those times seemed to be fewer and fewer these days…

“Get off me you brute!”

Yill snapped out of his daze. Some drunkard was harassing his barmaid. “Hey! Leave her be!” Yill barked at the swaggering sailor. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand it was men who had ambitions beyond breathing while drunk.

“Sorry about that.” He apologized as the girl returned to the counter. “I’m afraid ya’ll have ta be wary of that sort of thing if ya’r going ta keep working here miss…eh miss…Oh, I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names. At the rate we go through help around here it’s hard to keep em straight. What’s-her-name jus’ quit yesterday an’ that’s why you’ve got the job.”

“Yeah well I’m not going to bother telling ya my name because ya’ll only have to memorize a different one tomorrow!”


“I’m quitin’! Ya can find yaself another barmaid, one that doesn’t mind workin’ far an idiot!”


“No offence mistah, but you haven’t a clue on how ta run a pub!”

“What?” Yill sank down onto the bar, supporting his face with his hands as he watched his new employee exit the building.

“Hey bartender! How ’bout another pint!”

“Aw, get it yarself!” he growled. But at that moment something happened that made Yill’s spirits rise. For at that moment, three people entered the room.
“Wha- we’re in a tavern? Your friend is here?”

Hullin nodded. “You stay here with Iirick, Thenais. I’ll go set up our room.”

“So, we’re staying here tonight?” Thenais asked as Hullin slipped into the kitchen.

“Yes,” said Iirick. “And maybe for a while, too if the winds don’t change.”
Yill stepped back into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. “Good to see you again, Hullin, how’s it going? Stop any wars lately?”

Hullin sighed, dropping his invisibility. “Ahh, feels good be visible again.”

“Humph!” Yill humphed. “At least you can be invisible. An’ ya aren’t stuck playing watchman in some dirty tavern! Say, I was thinking about it and maybe ya could get me reasigned.”

“Yill, you’ve been stationed here for five years.”

“Yes an’ now I think it’s time for a change. You said I’d grow into this role. That’s what you said, but I haven’t. I mean, couldn’t I do my job in the guise of a farmer or something?”

“Yill, you know how important your job is to the Men of Valor. Lots of information gets passed around in taverns. Information we need to run our operations. Besides, you’ve already been here five years. People trust you. Relocating you now would mean bringing in someone new and who knows how far behind that would put us.”

“Yeah, well… eh— Oh, ok. By the way, who was that blind guy with ya? Ya playing guardian angel?”

“No, not really. He’s why we’re here, actually. He uh… he can see us.”

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

Ok, enough of that!
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Jun 01, 2005 5:37 am

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington, in the southern Dark Forest Fell Isle territory.

Formendacil wrote:"So will you do it?"

"Yes," said Sir Dractor. "I will take Thomas Valt, and train him as my squire, in exchange for the armour."

It was evening when Thomas came in. He was exhausted. He had spent the day helping the Korbalt boys clear their new plot to the northwest. It was a new field, and plenty of new stones had been turned up in the spring plowing. It was dull enough work, but certainly strenuous.

He came up to his home to find Sir Dractor and his grandfather talking. Brakespear was sipping from a foul-smelling medicinal tea that Thomas was certain he had never seen him use before.

"What's that for?" he asked his grandfather.

"Never mind," said Brakespear, evasively, "we have other business. In exchange for making his armour, Sir Dractor has agreed to take you on as his squire."

"That's great!" said Thomas, his adventurous yearnings jumping to the fore. "I promise you, Sir Dractor, you won't have cause to regret it." But soon the blood of his grandfather shone through, and he wondered about the old man.

"What will you do, grandfather?" he asked.

"Don't worry about me," said Brakespear. "I'll manage fine. I'm more worried that you won't have any skills or trade. And now," he turned to Sir Dractor. "We have things to discuss."

So the two of them launched into a discussion of Sir Dractor's forthcoming armour, it's style and its needs, and other details.

"I won't make a sword," said Brakespear. "You need custom-fitted armour, and I'm the best there is alive in Dametreos. But a sword is much more generic, and there are many, many great masters of the past whose work surpasses my own. Search the armouries and treasuries of Dametreos, and you will find many that will suit you far better than anything I could make."

After Sir Dractor assented to that suggestion, conversation turned to the actual work.

"Can you do any smithwork?" asked Brakespear. "I can no long do all that I once could, and I'll need some assistance with the finesse-less tasks, to keep my strength up. Thomas could do it, barely, but if you know your way around a smithy, that would be better."

"I can't make a sword, or an axehead," said Sir Dractor, "but I could make a crude horseshoe, and I know what the job requires."

"Good, that's all that's really needed. Shall we start tomorrow?"

"The sooner the better," replied Sir Dractor.

"Aye," said Brakespear softly, worrying Thomas, "sooner is better, certainly."
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Jun 01, 2005 6:08 pm

The Classic-Castle Roleplay is continued in this thread.

~Michael A. Joosten - Gaming Moderator~
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