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Classic-Castle Roleplay: June 2005

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Classic-Castle Roleplay: June 2005

Postby Formendacil » Wed Jun 01, 2005 6:03 pm

Greetings Roleplayers!

Additions to the continuing epic should be posted here. Questions and comments regarding the CCRP should be posted in this thread.

Let the adventure continue!
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Jun 01, 2005 6:44 pm

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

Formendacil wrote: "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."

Brakespear had all the tools and materials he needed to forge the armour. Despite having not accepting a commission in years, he had done village work, horseshoes and nails and such, and he had plenty of materials left from his days as a royal armsmith. Brakespear was a thrifty man, and kept things a long time.

So the next morning, he and Sir Dractor went out to fire up the forge. They took the measurements for the armour, and hauled the premium-grade ore from Brakespear's storehouse.

Thomas spent the day wandering about the village. He had no work to do that day, and there was no point in staying home, where he would only be getting in the way. So he wandered the forests and fields about, and visited some friends- those who weren't busy.

In the late afternoon, Thomas returned towards the village, having visited the site of the Wolfpack battle, and saw a small crowd gathered in the village square. They were all staring at the same house, his house.

"What's going on, Tom?" asked Corporal Jarva, the lone royal official in the village. Thomas didn't answer right away, he was too busy taking in what everyone was staring at.

It was actually Brakespear's smithy, not the house, that was the object of attention. It was an overcast day out, and afternoon was turning to evening. It was plain to see what had attracted the village's attention. Strange colours were shining from the chimney and at the cracks around the doors and shutters. Colours of shimmering orange, red, and gold. One could also hear Brakespear pounding away at the malleable steel with his hammer, but the sound was clearer, more bell-like, than any smithwork ought to sound.

"I don't know, Corporal," Thomas told him. "My grandfather was supposed to be making the visitor, Sir Dractor, a suit of armour."

"I didn't know he was an armoursmith," said the corporal. Thomas started for a moment, but realised that he his grandfather had never once made a weapon or suit of armour since coming to Hemmerington. He also realised that he had never once been around when his grandfather had plied his trade.

"I'm concerned," came the voice of Healer Melkan. "Your grandfather was over to see me a couple days ago, and he's not in any sort of shape to be doing this."

"Why?" asked Thomas, startled. "He's always been in fine health. He never said anything."

"He's in fine health, right enough," said Melkan, "as long as his heart doesn't go. And that's what has me worried. He's been having some chest pains that clearly point to an unstable heart. Otherwise, he's fine, but that heart of his could go any time, and when it does..."

Melkan left the sentence dangling.

"I'm not surprised he didn't tell you, though," he said. "Your grandfather cares for you a great deal. I imagine that he would find it hard to tell you."

"It explains a lot though..." said Thomas to himself.

They stayed there, watching the magical interplay of shining colours, and the clear, ringing sounds of that hammer, until well into the night. Thomas was not at all surprised now that his grandfather had been a very famous armsmith. There was clearly an element of magic in his craft.

Finally, the lights stopped and the hammering ended. A few people left for bed, but most waiting for Brakespear and Sir Dractor to emerge. Finally, a couple of hours later, they did.

Brakespear emerged first. He was black with soot and walked with tired, slow, movements. He looked out at his amazed fellow villagers with bemusement.

The Sir Dractor emerged behind him. The big knight was equally sooty, although not so tired, but the soot was hidden by the shining armour he wore. Brakespear's work glistened in the moonlight. It was, as all his suits of armour must have been, a work of art- and an incredibly strong piece of protection. The helm, the breastplate, and all of the armour-suit were strong and light, as well as decorative. Sir Dractor was well-pleased.

As for Thomas and the other villagers, they were well-amazed. No one moved or said anything for a minute, then Sir Dractor announced.

"Excuse me, Mistress Korbalt, but I will be returning to bed. It's been a long day." And as the village looked on, struck dumb, Sir Dractor strode right past them, and headed off to bed.
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Postby Sir Drake » Wed Jun 01, 2005 7:39 pm

Grid: K-13
Loc.: The desert of Morgdal

A long column of Fright Knights moved through the desert together with oxcarts and slaves. In front of them a general rode on his horse, clearly in charge of the column.

"Agriman" the captain continued. "I think we've reached, send your scouts towards that black building over there, hurry up, a sandstorm is coming up!"
"Yes, general Abbadon, your will is my command"

Not soon after that, the Agriman setted of with a bunch of soldiers, ready to scout the building.
Quickly, they returned and reported.

"Lord, you're right, after fourteen days of traveling we've finally reached it"
"Magnificent, I shall free Lord Anub'arahk out of his tomb and he shall reward me with mighty powers, so I will be able to take over all of Dametreos"

The two men grinned as the general raised his hand and gave signal to move towards the tomb.
The tomb was a large black symmetrical building, full of golden hieroglyphs and decorated with golden skulls. Next to the door opening their stood two large bats. The door opening was a rather small carved out entrance in the black stone.

As the soldiers got closer, Abbadon gave the order to light their torches.
Slowly the warriors went inside, one by one. They got deeper and deeper into the tomb and it got darker and darker. All around the place, there were skeletons, weapons and armor plates.

Finally, after two hours of walking and searching, the group reached the Inner Sanctum. In front of them their lay a stone coffin.

"Great, here it is, get the slaves and order them to open this box" Abbadon ordered.
"Sure, sir" a sergeant said and went of to get some slaves.

Grid: R-7
Loc.: Daggerfall Spire

The emissaries of the Wolfpack were send of two days ago to inform the Wolfpack's allies that their King had returned. Methalor wanted everything to be perfect for the King's arrival.
Today, the first guests even arrived. It were Dark Foresters.

In a long black column they moved through the gates of Daggerfall, towards the Spire they moved, under their feet lay petals of roses that were thrown of the houses by the locals. Slowly the small company found itself at the gates of the Spire. They moved in and threw their hoods back while they waited for their host to arrive.
Shortly after their arrival, Methalor arrived.

"Ah, welcome honored guests of the Dark Forest. I see that you're not in the company of your Queen?"
"No, you're right" Radjar replied. "I am here to represent her, she's very busy right now and she couldn't find time to pay homage to the King of the Three Daggers, for this, I am deeply sorry"
"I accept you apoligises, my young Prince, let me show you the way to your rooms"
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Postby Formendacil » Wed Jun 01, 2005 11:29 pm

Grid: L-20
Location: The Western Knights' Kingdom, island coastland.

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“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.

It was somewhat amazing to Broadside that Viktor and Rosa were willing to be dropped off at the same place, but as it made his job simpler, he wasn't going to argue.

Only a few days from Anka Dolour they reached the southern coastlands of the Western Knights' Kingdom portion of Kingdom Isle. As the Bombardier was anchored off the coast of a small cove, Viktor and Rosa were sent ashore in the longboat. Broadside went along to see them off.

"Well, Vikky," he said. "Good luck to ye. Try not t'get yeself killed right-off by that lady."

"Lady?" said Viktor with raised eyebrow. "Don't worry, she won't. Thanks for saving my skin back in Port Crowne, and for dropping me off here."

"Ye led me ter Stormrider," said Broadside, "just as ye promised. T'isn't yer fault those buggers showed up an' messed up me plans."

The longboat ran ashore on the sand. Rosa leapt out.

"Finally!" she said. "Land."

Viktor said nothing, and took his time getting out, but his sentiments were exactly the same.

Some of the sailors got out, and shoved the longboat back out to sea. Broadside waved in farewell. Soon the privateer was back on his ship, and headed for parts unknown. Meanwhile, Viktor turned to Rosa.

"So, now what?"
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Wed Jun 01, 2005 11:56 pm

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote: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.”

Grid: D-14
Location: nearing Port Shin-Po

Ajaxx Dragonsbane was on the poop deck of the Precious, near the ship’s bell. His muscular hands gripped the railing in front of him, and his shoulders were hunched. He was willing the Precious forward. The giant cliff faces that bordered the shores of Ninjaria were now just in sight, slipping in and out of the constant fog like wraiths playing an ethereal blind man’s bluff. And a dangerous bluff it was. The cliffs were not the only rock formations that slipped in and out of the gray mass. Shoals were thick, and jagged rocks the size of rowboats stuck out of the gray frothy water, maliciously seeking hulls to rip out. One needed a detailed map, a chunk of luck and the sense that only comes with a lifetime of sailing to navigate the Ninjarian Coasts.

“Steady…” murmured Dolter, himself gripping the helm, “Be steady a she goes…”

“Rock to port!” cried Togs the lookout, “A point off t’ bow!”

Dolter tweaked the giant wheel a forth of a turn and glanced at the overcast sky.

“Curse this soup of a fog.” he muttered, “I don’t got my bearings without the sun…”

Ajaxx said nothing, but gripped the railing tighter.

“There be whole cluster o’ rocks, two points off starboard bow!” cried Togs. Dolter adjusted the wheel accordingly.

The Precious continued deeper in the maze of rocks. The fog thickened. The cliff in front looms higher. For ten minutes the Royal ship carrying the Dragonsbane Brigade crept ahead. Then suddenly there was a shout from Togs.

“There be something ‘head!”

“What?” snapped Ajaxx, “Ifn’t be rocks, shout out!”

“Nay, it be not rocks, sir…it’s…doors!”


The question had barely left the commander-general’s lips when he saw them himself. They were just as Togs described: doors. Giant ones. Twins doors, sunk in the water and covered in seaweed and barnacles. They were hinged the to rock of the cliff itself, and carved into the cliff were small towers. Small dots of yellowish light flickers on top of and within the towers, and murky humanoid shapes could just be discerned moving quickly back and forth.

“Whoa…” murmured Japheth as the aquatic gatehouse became clearing and clearer as the Precious approached. Captain Dolter, however, didn’t have time to gawk. He had he ship to manage.

“Drop anchor!” he bellowed, “Drop it ‘fore we ram them gates!”

Dragon Masters scurried to obey, and soon with a splash the twin-fluked aft anchor descended into the water and snagged on a reef, pulling the Precious to a stop about a dozen yards from the gate.

“Royal ship!” boomed a voice obvious Ninjarian and obvious amplified either by magic or a bullhorn, “The aim of fifty bowmen and two ballistae are upon you! Do not attempt to move! Boats will arrive shortly to inspect you!”

Japheth growled, but with a swift motion of his arm Ajaxx silenced his friend.

“I be suspecting something like this. The Ninjas be a secret clan, very suspicious to outsiders. Let us hope their inspection be short.”

From a little dock at the base of one of the towers and to the right of the gate, three sleek but small boats glided forward to the Precious. A rope was flung up and a little over a dozen cloaked figures appeared on deck. Ajaxx strode forward just as one of the Ninjarians detached himself from the group. Ajaxx noted carefully that all the figures, both male and female, carried short curing kantanas, but that was all. They all wore protective leather armor and some had helmets, while others wore head rags like pirates. None were scruffy, all were straight and strong-looking, though all were a good foot shorter than Ajaxx, who was tall even for a Dragon Master. One thing Ajaxx knew: though not warriors, these guardsmen would battle admiringly if pressed to do so.

The lead Ninjarian brought the palms of his hands together, fingers pointing upward, and bowed. Ajaxx, well-versed in the cultures of other factions, returned the greeting.

“Ronin Fa Mushu.”

“Commander-General Ajaxx Dragonsbane.”

“What business have you at Port Shin-Po?” asked Ronin Fa, looking at Ajaxx in a squint.

“My ship be damaged by a locknest, I be seeking a friendly port to repair her.”

At the mention of a locknest, all of the Ninjarian ronins shuttered and made an obscure gesture, some muttered what sounded like prayers.

Ronin Fa explained, seeing Ajaxx’s confused look, “All who live at Shin-Po fears the Great Devourers. They come often when hungry, and when Shin-Po was unprotected many years ago, they ate all who could not flee. One, Great Green-Back, took Mulan’s whole family.”

A female with black eyes and black hair tied into a hard bun fingered her kantana threateningly.

“That is why we built our gate,” Ronin Fa continued, motioning behind him, “Our only protection from the Devourers. Our only defense. But,” he paused, eying Ajaxx keenly, “I do not understand. This is a Royal ship. You are Dragon Masters.”

“I bought this ship from the Royals while in Borianis Dracis.” Ajaxx lied smoothly.

“Ah.” Ronin Fa paused, “You…do not mind if we search your ship? All ships landing at Ninjaria ports must be searched.”

“Not at all.” smiled Ajaxx, “Us Dragon Masters be employing a similar policy.”

Ronin Fa bowed slightly and murmured a word or two at his companions, who quickly spread throughout the Precious in near-silence. Not many moments passed before most of the ronins were back.

“The cargo hold is flooded.” said the female Mulan, “Completely.”

Ronin Fa nodded slowly. “I see…”

He turned to Ajaxx.

“A very damaged ship, I see.”

Ajaxx nodded. “And she’s getting worse by the minute.”

Ronin Fa heard the hidden message. He thought for a moment.

“If you were smuggling goods, they would be ruined now.”

If I was, yes.” said Ajaxx, stressing the first word, “But I be not.”

“Then…” Ronin Fa said, “You are permitted to enter. I will warn the shipwright ahead of your arrival.”

“I be much obliged.” said Ajaxx, and bowed again. Ronin Fa returned the bow, then he and his companions returned to their boat and the small dock.

Minutes passed, and Ajaxx and the some of the other crew of the Precious could hear muffled shouts between the Ninjarians in the towers. Then, slowly, with much creaking and groaning, the incrusted gates of Shin-Po ground inward. Chains rattled and wood popped, but slowly and surely the gates swung completely inward, allowed the Precious open passage into a secluded bay and the town of Shin-Po. Captain Dolter ordered the anchor raised and like a fumbling pregnant woman, the Precious lumbered forward. Once she had cleared the gates, cogs and winches reversed and the gates slowly closed shut, sealing the way. Thus began a week of intense labor for most of the residents of Shin-Po, who were all paid handsomely to either repair the beached Precious or entertain the Dragons Masters. After those sevens days were complete, the Precious was floating high in the water with a newly patched and cleaned hull, her cargo hold was full of fresh supplies, and Ajaxx’s chest of gold was substantially lighter. So, in high spirits with full bellies, the Dragonsbane Brigade left Port Shin-Po onboard the refitted Precious, turning their sights to Port Firetresses.
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Postby Formendacil » Thu Jun 02, 2005 3:23 am

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

To whom it may concern,

The Court of Constantius VII, Emperor of Legoland and Overlord of Dametreos, is pleased to invite you to an Imperial Ball, to be held at the Yellow Castle in Orion on July 11th, 2005, C.C.

With the end of the Wolfpack Civil War, and the end of the Royal-Falcon Conflict (2004-5), Dametreos now enjoys near-total peace, with no nations possessing formal stances of aggression towards any of its neighbours, a state which has not occurred, according to Imperial staticians, since 1723 C.C.

It is therefore in honour of this most momentous occasion that His Imperial Majesty is hosting a Ball, for all the invited dignitaries of the Empire and of Dametreos.

The festivities will open with a parade for the edification of Orion's citizens, in which as many guests as desire may partake in. A formal feast will be held for the guests immediately prior to the Ball. Both will be held in the Yellow Castle.

At midnight between the 12th and the 13th of July, a fireworks display will be provided, ending the official festivities.

In the days leading up the ball, and ending the day after, Orion will be hosting an international trade fair, open to merchants from across Dametreos. All guests of the Emperor are invited to visit this, and promote the trade of their nations.

All guests will receive food and lodging free from the Imperial bounty, and will be lodged in the Yellow Castle or in the great estates of Orion.

Trusting that the guest, or his or her delegated representative will be able to attend, I remain,

Julius Hadrianica,
Imperial Steward of the Yellow Castle,

on behalf of His Imperial Majesty,
Constantius VII,
Emperor of Legoland,
King of Orion,
Lord of the House Legonis,
Overlord of Dametreos

Emperor Constantius VII looked with approval at the document.

"Excellent, Julius, excellent," he said "you never fail to please."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said the Imperial Steward with a dignified bow. "To whom shall I send these invitations?"

"Send the following amounts to the various heads of state, with letters that they are to distribute among their deserving countrymen as they see fit. I doubt if many of them will personally attend, but I think it best to allow them to chose their own delegates."

"Well good, sir," said Julius. "And the numbers are?"

"Eight to the Royal Knights," said the Emperor. "Ten to the Crusaders, Six to the Dark Forest, Twelve to the Wolfpack, Eight to the Black Knights, Four to the Western Knights' Kingdom, Four to the Eastern Knights' Kingdom, Four to Ninjara-" The Emperor paused as Julius scribbled furiously.

"Continue, sir," said the steward, when finished.

"Twenty to the Forestmen."

"Twenty, Your Majesty?" said Julius, peering over his spectacles.

"Twenty," nodded the Emperor. "The Forestmen were practically the leaders of the resistance to BloodVaine, and have the best track record of peace in Dametreos. As a celebration of peace, it is fitting that they receive such a large number of invitations."

"Then why did you give the Wolfpack twelve, and the Western Knights' Kingdom four?" asked Julius. "The Wolfpack have been far less peaceful."

"And they need to be shown that all is forgiven," said Constantius. "Leave the numbers to me, and save the rest for yourself."

"Very well, sir," said Julius, with a slight hint of disapproval. "What of the Black Falcons and the Bull Knights?"

"Twelve invitations to the Falcons," said the Emperor. "And eight to the Bulls. Is that all the nations?"

"You missed the Dragon Masters and Fright Knights, sir," replied Julius.

"Ah, yes, I wonder how that happened," murmured the Emperor. "Very well, send four invitations to the She-of-the-Barrow, and eight invitations to Lord Void, although I don't know if either will bother sending any delegates. I'm quite certain that neither will come themselves."

"But what if they do?" asked Julius, with a hint of pessimism.

"Then we will treat them as honoured guests, and they will behave themselves. The Emperor has means of dealing with poorly-behaved guests, even ones of powerful magic. Had my nephew had time to use them on BloodVaine, I would still be an Imperial Ambassador."

"As you say, sir," said Julius. "Is that all?"

"How many invitations does that come to?" asked Constantius.

"If I am correct, that is one hundred four invitations," said Julius, counting the numbers.

"Then make up an addition ninety-six invitations, to be distributed among the people of our own nation," said Constantius. "Use your own discretion is selecting the guest. Just be certain that two invitations are allocated for Commander-General Quorandis."

"Yes, sir," said the steward. "Is that all."

"For the moment," said the Emperor. "Tomorrow I'll be wanting to discussion accomodations and supplies. We will likely have one hundred and fifty guests in the city for that day, who will have to provided lodgings for, as well as any servants that come with them. I'll also want to talk to Captain-Major Rillian and the head of the Chamber of Commerce about setting up the trade fair, parade, and fireworks show."

"Yes, sir." And with his orders and notes, the steward withdrew to do his duty.
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Postby TheOrk » Thu Jun 02, 2005 3:57 am

L-12 Castle Dracul

Pythos stood out on one of the tower balconies. Smirking evily to himself. The castle’s garrison, minions of the Dracul Family for centuries; scurried about below him. Catering to his every whim. There was no doubt who was Master of the Castle.

The Tome of Tyco sat against a high backed chair. He noticed the red lumpy cushion it sat on was slowly rotting away. Scuttling across the floor was a rat. Pythos eyed it hatefully. Raising a hand, he muttered something in a language that no minifig was supposed to hear. To keeled over and began sqeaking in pain, a second later a pile of charred ash remained.

Not long now. The final phase of his plan was about to go forward. He could have done it already, but the ritual required a specific date. Less then a month away.

His train of thought was derailed abruptivly. A loud rap came at the huge cryptic door to his appartments. Who ever would dare to disturb him! A flogging was in order now. Stumbling into the room was one of Belzzar’s slaves.
“M,milord a vistor” He sqeaked weakly. The “visitor” impatiently pushed his way past him.

“Ah Kale! I was wondering when you would show up…” Pythos said dryly.

The slave ran past the Bull Knight and out the room. Kale stared at him balefully. His single Bley coloured eye glared at him. The Bull Knight would prefer not to have anything to do with him. But with the Fall of the Bulls, work was work.

“I know why you called me.” He growled.
“Yes of course you would. That dose of megablok magic I gave you as a reward is finally fizzeled up. Without another you will become another inferior minifig as you once were. Not only that but without it, you will shrivel up and die because your body will be too old and decrepid to handle the loss of all that power.”

Kale eyed him like a man on his deathbed.(Which he almost was)

Pythos grinned evily, he enjoyed playing with his puppets. Another dose or two of the megablok magic would make Kale as powerful as the late Sir Weigraf. He was a good servant, as was Kale, he did it of his own free will.

“I have recently come into posession of one of the greatist megablok relics in all Dametreos, in all of the world.”
“So?” Sneered Kale impatiently.

Pythos gave him a dirty look. “This has increased my powers greatly! Soon when all that was fortold will come to fruition…” Pythos had an odd look in his eyes. “I will give you the dose you need to survive.”

Kale stared at him in wonderment. A second later his eye retained it’s trademark glare.


“Of course” Growled Kale, he knew there was a catch.
Pythos walked over to a cabinet filled with many strange concoctions.

“Before I embark on my “quest” there are several threads I would prefer cut. When I return and your task is completed I will give you another dose.”


“With three doses of this” He began mixing potions. “You could become a God amongst minifigs, all you have to do is swear not to suplant me!…………………”

Kale nodded, so he wouldn’t be stabbing him in the back after all.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Thu Jun 02, 2005 10:29 pm

Formendacil wrote:Viktor turned to Rosa.

"So, now what?"

Grid: L-20
Location: Western Knight’s Kingdom coast on Kingdom Isle.

Rosa fingered her knife and put on her standard glare.

“I don’t know.” she snapped, “Why are you asking me?”

Viktor shrugged and didn’t reply directly.

“I’ve never been on Kingdom Isle.”

“Tyco.” muttered Rosa, “That son of a mega block could’ve given us a map.”

Viktor was in no mood to argue.

“Look,” he said, “We both wanted to get ashore, right? And Knight’s Kingdom was the closest. Any land’s fine by me. I hate ships.”

Rosa snorted in contempt.

“You may like any patch of ground you can set your flat feet on, but I want to get back to the mainland!”

“Fine then, you go there,” muttered Viktor, “All I want right now is a pub.”

Viktor turned away from Rosa and the lapping waves, and began to make his way through the gritty sand. He heard crunching behind him. Rosa was following. Viktor grimaced.


“I’m thirsty too.” she snapped.


They continued onward side-by-side, neither talking, until they came upon a small seaside village. Actually, calling it a village would be inaccurate. The tiny gathering of ram-shackle buildings known ironically as Palaceville was a place most persons who were not smugglers or criminals would avoid at all costs. But Rosa and Viktor had no choice.

“What a dump.” Rosa wrinkled her nose.

“I hope it has a pub.” said Viktor.

“All bilge holes like this have pubs,” spat Rosa.

Rosa was right, there was a pub in Palaceville. It was recognizable only because of a small, creaking sign that hanged over a blackened door. Viktor entered first and coughed as a smokey haze billowed outward. Blinking rapidly, he groped his way to the bar, his eyes watering from the smoke permeating the grimy room. Rosa a right behind him, he fingers near her knife. She took the seat to the right of Viktor, her back straight as a board, her face white.

Viktor coughed again. “I’ll have an ale.”

The balding bartender squinted. “Don’t got that.”


“Don’t got that.”


“Don’t got that.”

Viktor slammed his fist into the bar.

“What do you got!?”

Without a word the bartender bent down behind the bar and emerged a moment later with a greenish bottle filled with a thick liquid. He took out two dirty glasses and filled them, the pouring liquid making a glop, glop, sound.

“What’s this?” Viktor demanded.

“Summat I make meself.”

“Lovely.” Viktor grimaced and took a sip. It was, without a doubt, foul.

“Gack!” Viktor coughed, “What a bunch of bley! Got anything else?”


“Then gimme that, tyco it!”

The bartender whisked away the two glasses and placed before them two more glasses, this time full of what appeared to be water. Viktor took a sip.

“Tis ‘k.” he said, and downed the rest. Rosa did the same without a word.

“Six coins.” demanded the bartender.

“Six!?!” Viktor exclaimed, “For two glasses of water?”

“Six each.” said the bartender, “Twelve to both.”

Viktor violent slammed his good fist into the rotten woodwork of the bar.


The bartender looked at Rosa. The lust was clear.

“Perhaps…she could pay for it…” he leered.

Almost like magic, Rosa’s slim knife was in her hand. She leaned forward like a viper and slashed violently. The knife snagged on the bartender’s baggy shirt, ripping the cloth but not the skin beneath. The bartender yelped and backed away. He stared into the burning eyes of Rosa.

“Megablocks you.” she hissed.

The bartender paled but turned away. Viktor and Rosa could just hear him mutter, “Intellabix Jellies…”

It was Viktor’s turn to whip out his weapon. The Eastern Knight’s Kingdom slur often to applied to non-Easterners and Easterners alike stung deep.


Viktor surged forward, a pirate saber Broadside had given him clutched in his left hand, growling. The bartender squeaked and ducked as Viktor swung his sword violently. Worm-eaten wood crumbled and bottles smashed as the blade swung wide and connected with a shelf. Viktor swung again, and this time a line of blood appeared on the chest of the bartender. Then another appeared - this time on his arm.

“MEGBLOCKS YOU!” Viktor bellowed, swinging his sword for a third time. A blade whirred past his head and imbedded into wall beyond. Viktor aborted his attack.

“Viktor!” Rosa snapped, stamping her feet, “That’s enough, unless you want to get us both arrested!”


“There’s a band of Kingdom solders headed this tyco way!”


The redness faded from Viktor’s vision. He didn’t was to be captured, not again, not after he had escaped those mega blocks Crusaders and Broadside’s ship. With a final kick, Viktor left the bartender and Rosa retrieved her knife. They looked at one another, then they both rushed out the door and away from the shanty village of Palaceville. As they ran deeper into the darkness of dusk, Viktor said offhandedly, “By the way…thanks…”

“For what?” Rosa snapped.

“For alerting me to the soldiers. You coulda just ran off alone.”

“Hurm…well…” Rosa glanced at Viktor, “No problem…”
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Postby Dragoman » Fri Jun 03, 2005 1:03 am

Location: Solitaire
Dragoman wrote:They soon reached a point where they could no longer see before them though this did not slow them down. Shadow Knights are quite use to the darkness and have no problem moving through it, and so they were very much in their element. But after a mile or so of this they soon began to see faint signs of a red light coming from the void and soon it became clear that they’re getting close to what they feared to enter.

Their pace lessened as they got closer to the strange yet familiar light. All the men were making a tight grip on their various weapons knowing the time was rapidly approaching when they would be put in to use. As they went, the tunnel they were traveling began to widen and soon it quickly went from 6 feet to a good 30 feet from wall to wall. They became more wary of this, knowing that they would need to keep a sharper eye in the more open gloom.

When they had reached the source of the red glow, they found them selves before a great archway with pillars made from the same fiery ruby that they had seen before, which went from one side of the wall to the other. But what caught their eyes was not the arch but the red streaks swirling in and out of the black smoke that seemed to come from it.

They all looked upon it with an ingoing fear, though most did well to holed back their trembling which surged to their core.

“This must be it” softly spoke Arthus while coming to a pause just after Theron and along with everyone else.

Theron said nothing in reply to Arthus but instead cautiously began to walk closer to the mysterious arch.
But before he could reach it and when he was no more then ten feet away, two great slabs vertically placed on either side of him lifted revealing two colossal sized Earth Golems. They possessed enormous war axes in the left and right of their stone grizzled hands and they kept the axes crossed on their rock hard chests.

Theron then stepped back in surprise as he got ready for a fight. But what he realized then was the golems were not attacking but simply stood there staring at him with their red eyes that matched the arch that he was approaching.

“You can not pass.” said the golem’s in unisons and with voices that seemed to make the ground rumble.

Theron then went in to a more relaxed stance with this and while looking at the huge brute on his right said in his own thundered and most defiant tone: “we will go where we must and neither you” then turning to one on the left “or you will stop us.”

The golems remained motionless and said nothing.
So Theron signaled his men to follow him through the strange towering arch, but before anyone could get any further then Theron, The strange twine voices spoke out again saying: “So be it.”
The golems then stepped out in a rapped motion while making their weapons ready, but just as one looked as though one was about to attack the unsuspecting Jedrek, Theron took his spear in hand and through it right in to the golems head and in-between its eye where it collapse on itself. The other golem then did a downward swing to the ground but Theron side stepped it and while the axe was still stuck in the rock strewn ground, Theron jumped upon it and ran along the handle while poling out his second spear, he then leaped in to the air and on his way down he toss the spear and then horizontally stomped it into the attacking golem’s left temple. The golem stumbled around for a moment and then collapsed just as the first did.

When the dust had settled and he had gathered his spears, Theron intently made his way the glowingly ominous arch which he then suddenly stopped inches away from and then turned to face to his men who were now stunned with amazement by what they just saw

“are you coming?” he spoke impatiently and with that he turned around once again to the archway and entered the underworld passage to Hellecell.
Last edited by Dragoman on Mon Jun 13, 2005 7:37 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Postby lemon_squeezer2 » Fri Jun 03, 2005 1:08 am

Gold. How can such an ordinary looking metal drive men to such madness? There is nothing unusual or fantastic about it, but the desire for wealth and power has driven many to commit many stupid and foolish things.

1732 had been a good year for the small settlement that lay on the Chepeke Isle. The harvest was being brought in, and the annual supply ships that helped sustain the settlement were almost due. Rob Frit was especially excited at the latter prospect. As the Knight-Commander of the village, he was expecting tools and supplies in great numbers from the mainland. The colony had been in existence for five years now, and still no adequate defenses had been erected. Rob knew he had been lucky thus far. Pirates and other vagabonds had used the unexplored archipelago for years, and all it would take was one raid to bring down the twenty or so wattle and daub houses. Granted, a wooden palisade had been erected, but that of course offered no real protection should a determined assault come.

Far to the north on the mainland, something was happening that would change Frist’s life and those of many others in a very significant way. The Knight Kingdomers were at the height of their power, holding nearly all of the southern part of Dameteros. Geography was so much simpler then – there were only four or five truly significant powers, and the upheavals of the 1800s had not yet occurred. Becoming wealthy then was easy, provided you knew where to find it. In this case, the deserts and scrublands on the border of the Black Knights and the Kingdomers had been found to be flowing with deposits of not only gold, but silver and valuable iron ore. It was only surface deep, but there was no way of anybody knowing that. Small settlements that had been regarded as almost useless were soon bursting at the seems with people from all over, all hoping to somehow, someway strike it rich. In one of these settlements was a goldsmith by the name of Orson Leptar. Orson was a dishonest man, and not a too bright one at that. Nevertheless, he was skilled in gold, and could put out some of the finest jewelry, dinnerware, or anything else that was commissioned for him He too would be involved in this oddly placed chain of events.

This era of prosperity was well placed for the Kingdomers. It also led to a sharp rise in people who would rather steal then make their own honest living. Pirates now infested the seas and thieves patrolled the roads at night, proving once again that not all things wealth brings are good.

At any rate, something was happening at the port city of Impero that would affect more people then what it was intended for. Captain Dourman had been a good honest sailor all his life. For fifty years now he had served his country faithfully, never complaining, never cheating for his own gain (an all to common practice), and in all he had been regarded as one of the most reliable captains on the coast. He was sixty-eight, well past the normal age of retiring, indeed he was older then many would ever hope to become. This was to be his last run – a simple trip to the Kingdomer Isle where he planned to live out the rest of his days.

What drives men to do dishonest things? For Dourman, it could have been the years he had done everything right – perhaps he wanted to accomplish something risky, illegal, and dangerous before he quit.

In the small and cramped cargo hold, along with the usual run of trading goods, two trunkloads of gold had been stored away in a smuggling operation in a plot that the aged captain hoped would make him rich. The gold was yet unrefined, it had come from one of those mining towns on the border. Dourman had actually come across them unexpectedly – they were supposed to be delivered to the Count of Cristotares, but had somehow went astray and forwarded to the warehouses in Imperio’s shipyard. Even under these conditions Dourman should not have normally come across them but somehow he had. When his ship sailed out on that fine July morning, he grinned again, slapping an astonished sailor across his back. Life was good. Very good.


Randolph stared into black space while holding his second glass of beer. It was good beer – all Crusader brews were such, but even the well seasoned taste could not shake him of his frustration. Four days of searching dirty, dusty old maps. It made him positively ill. He finally had given up in frustration and now sat in one of Port Royal’s many taverns. The rowdy destructive crowd that usually frequented the place were gone – all that was left were a few drunks completely crashed on the unkempt round tables. Randolph had reached a dead end.

Putting down his glass he pulled out the ripped fragment. The only reasonable thing he could think of was to go to that marked spot, but that posed a different problem. The scale was too large. By his best estimates, the “X” represented an area nearly five miles square at the least. There was simply nothing he could do
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Postby Formendacil » Fri Jun 03, 2005 4:25 am

Grid: J-10
Location: Orion

"Cadets at ease! Cadets are dismissed until morning! Those on duty to report to the night officer. Dismissed!"

With Arthur Vitore beside him, Cadet Jayko Falconensis fell out of step, and began heading towards the cadet barracks. He was exhausted. The Cavalier training was intense.

Only a short while into it, he was already noticing his skills improve. Already a good rider, he was becoming great, and his handling of a lance had never been better. And it hadn't taken long for his instructor to point out just how wrong all of his swordplay was.

And then there was the fitness training, the protocol to learn, the chains of command and how to plan battles, carry and tend the wounded, secure supplies...

The list went on and on...

However, as Jayko and Arthur made their way to the barracks, there was a bit of an unusual spring in their steps. Their cadet regiment had a three-day leave, and were all given passes to leave the barracks and the castle. They were looking forward to three days of freedom.

Once back in their quarters, they changed into clean uniforms.

"Uniforms?" Jayko had asked.

"Certainly," said Arthur. "The ladies love a man in a uniform. The only real reason we have the ruddy things, I often suspect."

They both laughed, having been taught that day all the practical reasons that armies had uniforms- among other training. Soon they were clean and presentable, and with five others of their company, they sauntered out of the dormitories, out of the castle, and into the busy evening streets of Orion. But before they did, Jayko strapped on his sword.

"You're not allowed to remove cadet weaponry," Arthur reminded him.

"I'm not," said Jayko, "this is my own sword."

"Oh right, one of those Eastern Kingdomer swords," said Arthur. "I've always wondered why only one nation uses that sword, and EVERY other one uses the style we do."

"Who knows?" said Jayko. "I haven't really seen any advantage to the other ones."

Once in the city, Arthur led the small party towards a tavern with which he was well-acquainted. A natural born charmer, and an Orion native to boot, the others followed his lead without question.

The tavern to which Arthur led them was fairly upscale, and seemed to be a favourite of former and current soldiers, as well as the neighbourhood regulars. Arthur's little band wasn't the only one from the cadet regiment that made its way to Yellow Yak, as it was called, and the different groups of young men hailed each other eagerly as they entered.

"Six of your finest ale," Arthur told the bartender. "I'm paying for the first round."

Thanking Arthur profusely, Jayko and the others found them a table, and settled down at it happily. When they had drained their mugs, Jayko volunteered to fetch the next round.

As he waited at the bar for the mugs to be refilled, the man standing next to Jayko looked down at him appraisingly. The man was older, grizzled, and bore a rather old Tridentine uniform.

"You a Cavalier cadet?" he asked.

"Yes," said Jayko. "4th Orion Cadet Regiment."

"That's a funny accent," said the soldier, narrowing his eyes. "You're not from around here, are you?" His eyes fell on Jayko's Eastern Kingdomer sword.

"Yes, I'm from Barleyburg in the Eastern Knights' Kingdom," said Jayko, a bit uneasy.

"Pardon my bluntness," said the other man, QUITE bluntly, "but I've never liked foreigners in our armies much, especially them Jellybean Rainbows."

Jayko put the tray with the mugs down on the bar in a hurry.

"What did you say?" he snapped.

"I said," said the soldier. "That I don't like those Jellybean Rainbows. And I think they're a bunch of pansies, to boot."

"Hey, Jayko!" came Arthur's voice from the table. "What's taking so blooming long?" Arthur caught sight of the soldier, and got to his feet. The other cadets did too. On the other side of the bar, a bunch of veteran Tridentines, a lot more drunk than the young cadets, rose as well.

"Take that comment back this instant!" shouted Jayko.

"I won't!" said the soldier petulantly. "And I'll add that Barleyburg is most ridiculous city I've ever seen, with all that nauseous baby blue slapped over every house, horse, and hospital-"

The Tridentine didn't get another word out, as Jayko had grabbed two of the full mugs of ale, and sloshed them all over the Tridentine, soaking him.

"Draw your sword, and fight like a man!" shouted Jayko. The Tridentine did just that, and soon the entire tavern had erupted in a brawl. Although the bartender tried his utmost to calm things down, the chairs, mugs, and patrons were flying.

It only ended after ten minutes due to the swift action of the local soldiery. A patrol of soldiers in the blue and white livery of the Orion force burst through the door, and everything halted as the lieutanent shouted:

"Be silent and still! All of you!" Then he turned to the bartender, and asked who had started it. The bartender pointed staight at Jayko and Arthur.

"This is not good!" Arthur told Jayko, who couldn't have agreed more.
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Postby Sir Kohran » Fri Jun 03, 2005 8:55 am

Jaythus would have spoken, but he was stopped as they finally reached the massive wooden gates of Barleyburg!

Grid: N-14
Location: Barleyburg, Talonjay

“Well, this is it lad, Barleyburg.” Santis said, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

Jaythus was simply glad to see the twin doors rearing up into the clouds again, after so many years. He had last been here during a stop-off on the journey from Alendan, and hadn’t been here for roughly eight years. He quivered with anticipation; both his sister Jayrel and the King would be here to see him. He watched as Santis dismounted, and knocked upon the gates with his sword handle. A blue-clad soldier on the walls peered down at the two, before shouting down:

"What is your business here?"

Jaythus would have replied, but Santis got in first, with a well-known answer.

"The business of the King!"

As soon as he had spoken, the guard spoke to another soldier behind the walls, and then, suddenly, the gates thundered as they slowly opened inwards, revealing the city of Barleyburg. Santis and Jaythus led their horses in, passing below the gateway admiring the fine town all around them. A guard stopped them.

“Who are you, where did you come from, and what are you here for?” he questioned, looking dubiously at Jaythus’s Alendan helm.

Jaythus wanted to speak this time. “This is Sir Santis Rufusclaw, a famed Knight from Orkosan, and I am Jaythus Van Hawkonus, newly appointed ambassador for the King.”

The guard appeared slightly startled. “We-well, um, welcome to Talonjay, Sirs. I’ll send a message alerting your arrival to Baron Jayson as soon as possible.”

“Has the King arrived yet?” Santis pressed.

“No,” the soldier replied, “but an advance guard arrived yesterday and said that he and his escorts were on their way.”

“Thanks,” Jaythus answered, as they turned away to face the courtyard, full of the hustle and bustle of the workplace.

“Aye,” Santis grated, as he handed the reins of their mounts to a stable boy, who quickly led the two horses away to some well-earned rest and straw.

“So this is Barleyburg,” Jaythus sighed, “It hardly seems to have changed at all.”

“What are we waiting for, lad? Let’s go and find Baron Jayson!”

Only a few citizens turned to see the two Knights entering the town. Most of the townsfolk were going about their daily business, buying and selling things in the marketplace, taking horses to the stables, drinking in inns, working at their jobs or simply discussing day-to-day things. Blue-clad soldiers patrolled the streets, checking that everything was in order, which, for the most part it was. A ship could just be seen in the distance, sailing into the town’s port, probably laden with supplies and goods to be sold. The city had fully recovered from Danner Violess’s invasion, and was now a prosperous community once again.

“Amazing, isn’t it? What people can build when they work at it?” Santis commented, adding to all the noise around them.

“Certainly. It’s been a long while since I was last here, but as I said, pretty much nothing seems to have changed.”

“Oh well, that’s only because you’ve missed the important changes. There’s been a new governor, a strange old man stealing away Jayko, megablocks, there’s even been an invasion. And now there’s a rumour spreading that Jayko was here a couple of weeks ago. This town’s seen quite a bit of action over the months, Jaythus.”

“Hmm, I suppose so. Maybe hearing it from a messenger in the Castle made it seem all the same. I wonder what sort of man this Jayson will be.”

“From what I’ve seen, he’s a fairly strong-willed man, though his mannerisms could do with some improvement.”

Jaythus was intrigued. “How do you mean?”

They were stopped as an armed squad of blue-clad soldiers approached them from the street corner. They were led by a similarly dressed captain on a bardinged white horse, with strong features and a resolute expression on his face. He sneered at the locals, keeping things in order.

“Looks like the new governor,” Jaythus mumbled.

“Aye, that’s him. Jayko’s placeholder, Jayson.” Santis said.

The captain rode up and dismounted, smirking softly.

“Well, is that you, Santis Rufusclaw? It seems like only yesterday that you, me and Viktor was slaughtering Alendani pirates.”

“Seems the same for me,” Santis laughed.

“And who are you, boy?” Jayson looked down at Jaythus.

There was something Jaythus didn’t like about Jayson’s attitude. He didn’t seem very caring to anyone except people who could aid him, and looked down upon everyone else. The use of the patronizing word “boy” only added to the insult. Nevertheless, Jaythus replied in kind.

“That “boy” is Jaythus Van Hawkonus, the new ambassador of Morcia, and a “sir” to you, Baron Jayson.” Jaythus retorted.

“Oh well, that’s different,” Jayson spat sarcastically. The blue-clad soldiers seemed to move a bit closer.

There was an unstable silence for a few seconds after that.

“Well, um, the King hasn’t come yet, so, er, let’s go and have something to eat,” Santis stammered, trying to restore a bit of peace.

“Yes, let’s,” Jayson said, eyeing Jaythus suspiciously.

As the three of them strode down the bustling street, Jaythus glared at Jayson’s back, as the tall warrior sneered about him at others.

Something told Jaythus he wouldn’t get on too well with Baron Jayson.
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Postby Formendacil » Fri Jun 03, 2005 6:04 pm

Grid: N-14
Location: Barleyburg

Some called Sir Jayson deTalon a hard man. Some called him cruel. And, from a certain point of view, that would be correct. Sir Jayson, now legitimate Governor of Barleyburg, and not-so-legitimate Baron of Talonjay, was a stern man. He expected loyalty from his men, and relied on his own wisdom more than any other's. He was not a socialite, and one had to work to earn his respect.

And there was no denying his ambition. Sir Jayson's goal had always been to rise above his station. And he had done so well. From his merchant-class origins he had risen to be knighted, and in battle he had distinguished himself as a great warrior. And recently he had acquired the Baronial title of Talonjay. There was no disputing that he worked hard to get there, and had not been overly concerned about those in his way getting there.

But Sir Jayson was not an evil man. Once you earned his trust, you had a great friend. He was deeply loyal to his home province, and now that it was his domain, he would do his best to rule it well, and strengthen its reputation. His men knew him as hardworking and loyal, and a man who's respect it was an honour to earn.

He was a man of firm opinions, certainly, and one who trusted first impressions, right or wrong, until proven otherwise. He was a man with a sound mind, and he knew it.

And so, when he met Santis and Jaythus, his reactions were fairly predictable. Santis, who he knew and respected, he treated with his natural respect. Jaythus, who was still young, and who had not earned his respect, was naturally treated as such.

Natural, perhaps, but not wise. Jayson had made many wrong judgements- and many enemies- that way. Including Sir Jayko Falconensis. Jayson was fairly tactless, and it had got him in trouble before. And in all likelihood, it would again.
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Postby Formendacil » Fri Jun 03, 2005 9:45 pm

Grid: J-10
Location: Orion

Formendacil wrote:"Be silent and still! All of you!" Then he turned to the bartender, and asked who had started it. The bartender pointed staight at Jayko and Arthur.

"This is not good!" Arthur told Jayko, who couldn't have agreed more.

Without waiting for an explanation, the city guards siezed Jayko and Arthur, and hustled them off to the jailhouse, with a stern warning to the rest of the patrons to settle down or be locked up themselves.

A couple hours later, having protested their innocence to a silent scribe, they were locked up together in a cell reserved for rowdies and drunks.

"We're doomed," Jayko groaned. "E'terriole will kill us."

"Assuming he doesn't, we are going to be heroes in the dorms," said Arthur, more optimistically.

"Are you kidding?" asked Jayko.

"Not a bit," said Arthur. "We're going to be the toast of the regiment- at least until someone else does something totally batty."

Not too long after, perhaps an hour or so, one of the guards came to the cell, and released them. As they came out into the jailhouse's atrium, they saw the frowning figure of Captain-Colonel Marcellinus E'terriole staring down at them broodingly.

"Come!" ordered E'terriole, and he led them out of the jailhouse, and back to the Yellow Castle at a quick pace. On foot behind his mounted figure, they had to struggle to keep up. Both were somewhat terrified about what was going to happen.

"Follow me." They arrived at the Castle, and a stable boy took away the Novice-Master's horse. Following his direction, they entered the cadet wing, and went to the Novice-Master's office.

E'terriole sat down. Jayko and Arthur stood in front of his desk.

"I'm extremely disappointed," he said after a moment. "Disturbing the peace. Fighting with soldiers of another division. Getting thrown into the city jailhouse. You've done your best to disgrace the image of the Cavalier cadets. This is behavious unbecoming ANY military aspirants, but especially so in light of the military force which you are training to become a part of.

"The Cavaliers are not only the best-trained and best-equipped force in Dametreos, they are also the most respectful. The Cavaliers are keepers of the peace, not disturbers of the peace. Cavaliers never indulge in pillaging, burning, or raping. As cadets, you KNOW that. This is a duty that begins as a cadet.

"What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Throughout, E'terriole's voice had been level and calm, but that only struck more terror into the two young men. Very carefully and respectfully, they told the Novice-Master what had happened.

"I will see to it that this Tridentine is disciplined," said E'terriole when they had finished. "ALL of the Emperor's armies should keep his peace. But you two still bear much of the blame."

E'terriole paused for a moment, then went on.

"I had intended to recommend that the two of you join the officer training program. But this disappoints me terribly. An officer, especially, must exercise restraint and obedience, two qualities the two of you are sorely lacking at the moment.

"However! I will keep you in the program. You have exibited leadership and bravery, if in most inappropriate ways, which are values one expects of good officers. But if you continue such behaviour, you will soon be back in the regular training, or even expelled from the service entirely."

"Thank you, sir," said Jayko and Arthur penitently.

"Also, I'm terminating your leave for the next two days, and assigning you to help with the Castle staff for that time. Do what the stewards tell you, and do it well, or I'll have Chief Steward Julius assign you gong farmer duties.


Arthur and Jayko quickly exited the office, and headed for bed. It was well past midnight now, and they would be up early if they wanted to excape gong farmer duties in the morning.

"I say," said Arthur, as they climbed into their bunks (the others were still empty as their roommates partied), "I don't know whether to be angry about this or not. We're going to be officers!"

"As long as we don't mess up," said Jayko.

"I assure you, I have jolly well no intention of doing that!" said Arthur fervently.
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Postby TheOrk » Sat Jun 04, 2005 12:48 am

L-12 Castle Dracul

Belzzar paced around in one of the side passages. It was filled with dozens of paintings of the Dracul family. Anybody besides Belzzar who might look at them were scared away.

This area was the embodiment of Fright Knight architecture. Dozens of grisly stone statues decorated it.
Some were of knights and kings, most of many shaped monsters.

Much to the Count’s growing discomfort it seemed the statues especially the gargoyles, looked at him. Without even thinking he blasted the entire room with a petrifying charm.

He grimaced at his chief worry. Pythos had changed with that blasted book. He had not emerged from his chambers once. He couldn’t sleep at night, nightmares involving Pythos haunted him. It made him feel better to have underlings spying on them.

He had received another parchment from Lord Durak, some more gibberish of his men causing upheavals throughout the realm. Apparently groups of Belzzar’s men were stealing and vandalizing property of the peasants on Durak’s terrority.

Belzzar believed it, it seemed he was losing control on his men. He just rounded up some slaves, dressed them in uniforms and sent them to Durak. He could punish them any way he wished. He would deal with the realm culripts once he found them.
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