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Classic-Castle Roleplay: June 2005

LEGO gaming, including group role playing games

Postby Dragoman » Tue Jun 07, 2005 5:24 am

Dragoman wrote:“are you coming?” he spoke impatiently and with that he turned around once again to the arch and entered the underworld passage to Hellecell.

Grid: S-1
Location: Somewhere beneath the surface.

Jedrek immediately followed Theron in; Arthus however waited to make sure the rest of the Shadow Knights past through the portal like archway. When he had finished directing each one in to the strange smoke, Arthus also enter but not before taking a deep breath and then saying to himself in a sigh: “I hope this is worth it”

Those first steps in left Arthus in an unsettling feeling of confusion for the strangely breathable black smoke was now all around him and was so thick that he couldn’t catch sight of his comrades who entered just before. Along with this confusion he also began to have a strange sense of awareness: like loosing all hints of direction and yet still knowing exactly where he needed go.

The journey through was very short and though Arthus had only walk for what couldn’t have been more then fifty feet, the time spent had felt like an eternity.

When he had finished his way through the underworld passage and had stepped out of the obscurity, Arthus found himself somewhat dazed by his short lived journey and had not yet grasped his surrounding.

“are you all right? Ask Jedrek as he was coming to check on him.

“Don’t waste time over me” replied Arthus in a grunt still a bit unsure of his footing “we must keep moving.”

Theron then spoke cryptically when he said “look around you Arthus of the Scorpio, no further do we travel…we are here.”
Last edited by Dragoman on Mon Jun 13, 2005 7:32 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Tue Jun 07, 2005 5:54 pm

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“Here,” said Lord Void, thrusting the last five invitations at Caimlin, “Send those along to Governor Drock. Let him send them to whomever he wants.”

Grid: C-16
Location: Monolinious Dracis

Governor Drock was at his desk when Caimlin’s parcel arrived two days later by pigeon.

“What’s this?” he asked, setting aside his quill.

“A package sent from the mainland, sir.” said the Dragon Master servant, “One of the Grolling Fortress pigeons carried it, sir, but…look…”

The servant smoothed out the rumbled packaging paper and indicated a smudged spot that looked like a LEGOland symbol.

“That’s the Classic Emperor’s crest.” murmured Drock, “How odd.”

He took the package and ripped it open. There were six folded slips of paper inside. Drock took the smallest of the six and looked at it. Written over the neat instructions from the Imperial Steward Julius Hadrianica in a different ink was a short message from Caimlin.

Send remaining invitations to whomever you want.” Drock repeated out loud, and sighed. He had enough on his hands as it was without distributing invitations to balls. How he longed to just drop this governing foolery and get back to his own secluded hut and his friends the giant sea turtles.

“Let’s get this over with…”

Drock opened a drawer in his desk and thumbed through a list of contacts. Randomly selecting four names, he wrote them of separate envelopes and stuffed the invitations inside. The last invitation he kept for himself.

“Give these to the pigeon master.” ordered Drock to the servant.


The servant exited the room and made his way to the pigeon coops, a cramped and smelly room set atop a spire.

“What’ve we got ‘ere?” asked the pigeon master.

“Personal letters from Governor Drock.”

“Right them, I’ll send ‘em out right away…”

The pigeon master took the four envelopes and thumbed through them.

“Madame Baradair, Ajaxx Dragonsbane…got quite a list of big folks…”

The pigeon master tied the four envelopes to the legs of four pigeons, sending them flying with a wave of his hand.
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Postby Loneranger » Tue Jun 07, 2005 11:16 pm

Since 33 days before, when King Sirion set out for the Black Knight islands, he was invited to some sort of party. The same day he landed was the day of the party, Sirion thought it would be like a ball, which he wasn’t used too. So he quickly gathered his things and put something on that looked decant enough for the party. He was then shown to his carriage.

Later when the carriage arrived at the party, he found himself wondering around the front with a wine glass that was handed to him. He quickly noticed pillar’s surrounded the ballroom, from which he was just entering. He found it to be a perfect hiding spot for the night, trying to avoid mostly everyone, and wondering why he came. Then, a beautiful lady entered the ballroom. Her beauty outstood the rest; Sirion grew nervous as the beautiful woman began to approach him.

“Well well well, Sirion the trouble maker.” The woman spoke to him.

Sirion, a bit baffled by the lady.

“hmmmm?” He replied, his voice sounding nervous.

“You don’t remember? You poured some type of tar on my head. It took three years for my hair to grow back.”

Sirion, now completely shocked and embarrassed.


“So you do remember.” Elizabeth smirking to herself.

“I’m deeply sorry for that, I was foolish as a kid.” Sirion, trying to regain his honor

“And look at you now, rough face, Wrinkles, beard, your eyes look as if they’ve seen to much of the world.” Elizabeth spoke in a calm voice.

Sirion, beginning to feel quiet calm and no longer nervous, though clueless as what to say.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” She asked.

“Why yes, I would love to, the thought of a ball is quiet nervous.”

Elizabeth smiled.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” She said as she walked and stood next to him, putting her arm around his.

They walked out the nearest door and onto a path towards the wood. Talking, catching up on past memory’s.

“I heard about the great battle, news was coming in every day and troops were being sent out in every boat that could be used.”

“Yes, we were completely surrounded, the city is still being rebuilt, but the scars of it will always remain.”

“I’m glad it’s all over now, we all can live in peace once again.” She said, smiling at Sirion.

“Yes, I do hope so.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, a bit confused.

“Sure we’ll live in peace again, but the memory’s of the men who fought and died will always be with me.” He said, his face starting to look depressed.

“I’m glad you came.” Elizabeth, trying to change the topic to something else.

“Me too, though it was your mother who sent the invite, wasn’t it?”

Elizabeth, blushing and bighting her tongue.

“Ummmm, not exactly.”

“Heh, what do you mean?” He asked, being nosey.

“Well, It was…” trying to avoid the answer.


“Me…” She said, lowering her head and looking at the ground.

“Oh, well, thank you for the invite.” Sirion smiled at her

She brought her head up looking at him, and smiled too.

“Hey, I remember this place.” Sirion said looking around the forest.

“Yes, this is the place we used to play all the time.” She said looking at him.

“Mhmmm” Sirion replied.

Both of them looked at each other for a few moments, but before either of them could say anything.

“Lord Sirion! Lord Sirion!” A boy came running towards him out of the bushes holding a message in his hands, and breathing heavily, bends over to try and catch his breath.

“Yes young lad?” Looking at the boy.

He held up a message to Sirion, still bending over.

“A massage from the emperor.”

Sirion opened the message and began to read, Elizabeth trying to look over his shoulder to see what it said.

“Oh a Ball, how wonderful!”

Sirion turned his head, knowing she had finished it before him.

“Well, I guess so, hahaha. Though it seems I have no one to go with, would you consider going with me?”

Elizabeth, trying to hold back her excitement. “I would love too go with you, though I think you would need something else to wear than that old suit.” She smiled.

“Hahahaha, you’re right, I’ll have to get something fitted before we leave.”

“When is the ball, does it say?” She asked politely.

“Yes, but if we are to make it in time, we should leave tomorrow morning.

“Hmmmm, that doesn’t give me much time, I must be going if I am to be ready by tomorrow!”

Elizabeth went running back down the path.

“Heh.” Sirion smirked to himself.

“Young lad, mind walking me back to my carriage?” Sirion asked.

The boy smiled and nodded.

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Postby Formendacil » Wed Jun 08, 2005 2:44 am

Grid: N-24
Location: Talistrand

Formendacil wrote:Smiling, he set two invitations aside, and resealed the envelope. It was only fitting, he thought, that the forces of the Sorceror-king, which owed no allegiance to any faction, should be represented.

And if he was to find his men a job other than those offered to Oris Del Grakken, then attending this ball would be an excellent idea.

Elbadar returned to Talistrand completely successful in what he had left it for.

As he soon learned, however, Bernard Quorandis had not been entirely successful in everything had been intending to do without leaving. After giving the remaining invitations to King Valentius, the king had asked him to bring the two allocated for the Commander-General over to his officer. Elbadar agreed with good grace.

"It's a nightmare, I tell you!" said Quorandis, describing his marriage preparations. "And an expensive one too. No wonder people elope. Honestly, if I could, Elwen and I would, but we're practically prisoners. If we even tried, someone would report us to my other instantly, and that would be the end of that."

Elbadar chuckled. "She's that fearsome, your mother?"

"Normally, no," said Quorandis. "But she's taken this whole wedding business WAY out of proportion. I will be quite glad when it's all over."

Quorandis paused to read the invitations Valentius had sent over.

"You know about these?" he asked Elbadar, looking up.

"Aye," replied the Dragon Master. "Two were allocated for the Sorceror-king's people." Quorandis didn't pick up on the very subtle hint of amusement on the Marshal's face.

"This is going to mean foregoing the honeymoon," said Quorandis. "Or putting it off, at least. We'll have just enough time to get to Orion after the wedding. Pity, I was very much looking forward to a few weeks totally alone with Elwen."

Elbadar, a single man all his life, smirked.

"She'll be using that other invitation, I assume?"

"Of course," said Quorandis, as if nothing else could be contenenced. "What of your other invitation?"

"Captain Del Grakken," said Elbadar. Predictably, Quorandis snorted.

"You know I don't like, or trust, that man," he said, responding to Elbadar's raised eyebrow. "And while you've been gone, Captain-Major Isidores (who's been running the men while I've been locked away in this wedding) says that he's been spending a lot of time in the seedier parts of the city- with men that I wouldn't trust farther than I could twist their wrists."

"Better to have him where I can see him," said Elbadar simply. "Corporal Halfstare can keep the men in order without us, and I hope to find a job for us."

"With all the dignitaries in Orion, that shouldn't be hard," nodded Quorandis.

"Well, if you don't mind," said Elbadar, making to leave. "I have a regiment to see to. And other business. I'll see you soon, if you ever get some time off."

"Aye, if ever," nodded Quorandis.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Wed Jun 08, 2005 3:41 am

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“Very good, dahling!” exclaimed Elsa Byrd. And then she was gone, her pink accessories floating along behind her.

“I don’t like her.” snorted Caimlin.

“Nor I, Lame-Kin.” smirked Lord Void, “Here,” he continued, thrusting the last five invitations at Caimlin, “Send those along to Governor Drock. Let him send them to whomever he wants. Then we shall dine. Then, tomorrow, we set out to the Fire Breathing Fortress for the groundbreaking.”

Grid: G-7
Location: the ruins of the Fire Breathing Fortress

The next day, Lord Void, Caimlin, and Elsa Byrd teleported back to ruins of the old Fire Breathing Fortress to oversee the beginning of the construction process. Or, at least, the clearing process, for even before the outline of the new fortress could be lined out the rubble from the old fortress had to be cleared away. As soon as the last whips of the teleport spell had faded Caimlin jumped into command.

“Captain Aakar!” he ordered, “Get the men to rouse the slaves immediately! Distribute pickaxes and hammers! Keep a close eye and kill any slave that attempts to escape.”

“Wound.” counter-ordered Lord Void, “I don’t want all my slaves getting kill in the first week. A wounded slave heals, and becomes a worker again. A dead slave is nothing.”

“Aye sir.” nodded Caimlin, “Aakar! Order the men to wound any escapers, not kill!”

“Aye, sir…”

As Caimlin continued to direct he subordinates, Lord Void and Elsa Byrd retreated to a nearby knoll, where out of thin air the eccentric architect produced a pavilion, complete with squashy chairs and a keg of iced tea. To Lord Void’s inner relief, the cloth was not pink, but a creamy white.

“Pink, it is a good color dahling.” said Elsa Byrd, as she descended into her plump seat, “But my God, dahling, it does try on the eyes sometimes.”

“Pink always tries on my eyes.” grunted Lord Void, also sitting, “Caimlin!” he called, raising his voice, “Come.”

Caimlin retreated from the pens where other soldiers where kicking and forcing slaves to stand and trotted up to the pavilion.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Are the slaves about ready?”

“Just about, my lord.”

“Good. I will have a word before you start.”

Lord Void rose and strode the edge of the top of the knoll, where he flung out his arms grandly. In a magically-amplified voice, he called, “Slaves! I am Lord Void, your lord and king and master! You will obey me and my men! Disobey, and you will be punished. Attempt to flee, and you will be punished. Attempt to sabotage the construction of my fortress, and you will be punished! And no, I will not kill you. No, I won’t let you escape that way. You will suffer, and once your punishment is complete, you will return to work! You are slaves! You are owned by me, and me alone! And you will work for me! Caimlin!”


“Take it from here.”

As Lord Void stepped back and sat in his chair, Caimlin bellowed, “Right, you lot! Let out the slaves! Make sure they’re good and shackled! Aakar, Mugis, Grawp, Feddle, Shekk, you know you orders, get your divisions moving!”

The Dragon Master captains turned slave masters all shouted their understanding, then began shouting at each other, their own soldiers, and the slaves.

“Roight, you lot, start clearing’ them rocks there. Anything too big to carry, leave it! ‘Urry, you loafing scum!”

“Shekk, when yer lot’s gotten all the smaller stuff moved, I’ll send my lot in with pickaxes to break the bigger blocks up.”


“Not, there, megablocks, move the rocks there! There! Son of a tyco!”

A whip cracked. Then another. Soon along with clinking of pickaxes and the moans of slaves, the sounds of the whips searing flesh filled the air like a ghastly symphony.

Lord Void cackled.

“Stone by stone the past is going away. Here me BloodVaine? Even you couldn’t destroy me, my fortress, my land, my country, not really, not at all. No one can destroy me. And Dametreos will tremble when the Fire Breathing Fortress has been built!” he said vehemently.

“Very good, dahling.” nodded Elsa Byrd, sipping her ice tea.
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Postby Robin Hood » Thu Jun 09, 2005 3:54 am

Grid: G-8
Location: Castleton

"Robert, why don’t you take the rest of the night off." Kjeld’s personal guard had just shown the king’s last visitor to the door. It was several hours after dinner and the Kjeld had spent all that time listening to people. It was now getting late and the king had decided to call it a night.

"Very good sir, assuming you don’t need anything." Replied the soldier.

"Not at all," answered Kjeld, "besides, you haven’t had an evening off for the last two weeks."

“Thank you sire,” said Robert and he left. He was rather happy to get a bit of time off. As he walked down the corridor he found he was thirsty. "I known just the place to cure that." he thought. "There are always some guards there to talk to."


The dark shape of Cloak smiled to himself as he walked toward the inn. His employer would be very pleased, he would do the job and everyone would accuse that bumbling guard. He had spent the last month planning the whole operation. Nothing would go wrong.

As he neared the inn, Cloak turned into an alley and entered the inn by the back. Sticking to shadows, Cloak was near invisible. He slowly made his way through the building until he was in the kitchen. At this time of night, few staff were about. There were two cooks who were just off duty, talking, and one serving lady who was filling up a drink for a customer.

The woman was just closing the tap to the last drink when she heard her boss call her from the back room. Idly wondering what he wanted, the woman walked into the room. Suddenly, a black hand reached around her and forced a small cup into her face. Before she could even cry out, the fumes from the cup knocked her out.

Cloak then hulled the lady out into the alley, dumped her beside a pile of refuse and dropped a black cloak over her. One of the easiest ways to temporarily hide someone at night was to stick them out of the way and cover them in black. Only strong light would reveal her. Cloak then went back into the inn, picked up the tray of mugs that he had caught, and walked directly into the main room.


"So I said to him, if that’s Herman, then where’s Bob."

The table erupted with laughter. Robert laughed with the rest. That was the best joke told all night.

The serving lady walked up to their table with their second round of drinks. "Here you go sirs," said the lady, and passed them each a mug of foaming ale.

Robert took a long swig of the stuff and listened as another guard began to tell about an interesting encounter with a drunk.

"Hmmm, this isn’t quite the same as the last batch," thought Robert. He took another drink. "Yes, definitely different." It was in fact a bit more than different. The ale was not agreeing at all with his stomach. Hastily excusing himself from the others, Robert stumbled out of the inn. No one noticed that a minute later, the serving lady followed.


Lego XIII looked over Castleton. The great city sat in the moonlight like a beautiful toy. It felt good to be back. He had been anxious to see his father, anxious enough to ride into the night to get to Castleton.

The prince sighed. Though it felt good to be home, he wished he had Vallen with him. His son had liked his stay with his uncle so much that Lego had granted his wish of another month or two on the isle. Also, Lego would too busy at the capital to spend much time with his son.

Lightly kicking his horse, the prince road down toward the city.
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Postby Robin Hood » Thu Jun 09, 2005 5:56 pm

Grid: G-8
Location: Castleton

Robert stumbled into a wall, no that drink had not gone well with him. He felt dizzy, unable to concentrate. He was slightly deluded too. He thought he saw a shadow detach itself from the wall and put a cup into his face. But whether deluded or not, Robert lost conscience and fell to the ground.

Cloak smiled to himself again. His plan was working exactly according to plan. He quickly dragged the fallen guard into the shadows, picked up the man’s spear, and covered him with another black cloth. He started to leave, but then stopped, bent down, and picked up a rock which he pocketed.

Cloak then turned and headed toward the castle.


Lego climbed a flight of stairs up the castle. He turned and walked along a corridor toward his father’s room. He met Robert standing in his normal place.

"Robert, please tell my father that I have arrived."

"At once sire,"replied the guard. “After you your highness."

The two men then walked toward the room and Lego then opened the door.

"Father? I’m home."

Kjeld looked up from the window, which he had been staring out of. “Ah Lego, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow."

"I road hard," replied his son and the two embraced.

"Sire," came Robert’s voice from the doorway.

"Robert? I thought I gave you the night off." Said Kjeld.

"Yes you did sire, but I have a message to deliver," answered Robert.

"Well, what is it?" asked the king.

"This!" Robert then hefted his spear and threw it strait at the king. At such close range, with his guards training, it was impossible to miss. The spear hit the king in his chest, and without a word, Kjeld sank to the ground.
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Postby Sir Drake » Thu Jun 09, 2005 7:49 pm

Grid: R-8
Loc.: Daggerfall

Willem Blackcloak, true leader of the Wolfpack had arrived two days ago at Daggerfall, capitol of the Wolfpack. Today, he was getting coronated. All the representatives were at the official coronation at the cathedral.
After a half an hour, Willem proudly strode in, followed by some elite Wolfpack soldiers, clad in Wolfpack brown. At the altar, they stopped and lined up in two lines, between them, a Elder walked, holding the Crown in his hands.
Then, the Elderl started to speak:
(Formendacil does the coronation stuff ussually so I'll let it this for him)

Grid: R-8
Loc.: Daggerfall

Lhorn walked through the streets of Daggerfall. He left his armour at the Inn and he was just dressed in his long, silk, grey-coloured tunic. It was pretty quiet in the streets because most people waited at the doors of the Cathedral to get a glimpse of their King.
Lhorn looked around and saw a small fruit stall. He went closer, took an apple and took a bite out of it. Suddenly, the seller came out of his store and saw Lhorn, the man started yelling and soon Lhorn was running through the alleys of Daggerfall, followed by a bunch of soldiers.

Lhorn ran and ran but suddenly he ran against somebody and fell on the ground. He cleaned his clothes and looked at his hand.
Best-lock, he thought, it's bleeding, how's that's possible
In the mean time, the person he ran against sat crouched next to him. He noticed her and looked into her beautiful deep brown eyes. Her brown curls drifted in the light breeze. Her body was dressed in a sun-yellow shouderless dress.

"Let me help you" the woman said and reached out her hand.
"Thanks" Lhorn said and grabbed her hand and pulled him up.
"Why are you running?" she asked him.
"I've got some problems with a local guy"
"No, just a minor problem, I 'borrowed' an apple of a guy and he got all mad"

She laughed and took a bite out of the apple.
Last edited by Sir Drake on Sun Jun 12, 2005 12:16 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Postby Robin Hood » Thu Jun 09, 2005 8:16 pm

Grid: G-8
Location: Castleton

Lego stared in shock as the spear plunged into his father’s chest. Yet the prince did not cry out. He had seen to many battles to be shocked so easily. Instead, he drew his sword and circled around the traitorous guard.

Robert tried to make a dash for the door, but wasn’t fast enough. Lego got there first. The prince pointed his sword at Robert’s belly. The guard wasn’t able to stop quickly enough and the blade made a very shallow cut in his stomach. Lego then slowly forced him to the window.

Suddenly, Robert stopped. His whole body seemed to shimmer and then dissolve. In his place was a man robed entirely in black with his hood up so that nothing could be seen. The black figure then put a black-gloved hand into his pocket and pulled out a stone. Which was then thrown backward at the window.

The window shattered and the strange figure changed again. Before Lego could cry out or attack, the black man shimmered and dissolved into another shape. This one was a hawk. Without a sound, the bird flew out the window and into the night.

Lego immediately dropped his sword and rushed to his father’s side. It was hopeless. The spear was stuck in Kjeld right side and would not come out without killing him.

As it was, the king was not far from death. He was breathing in short raged breaths.

“Father,” was all Lego could say.

Kjeld gave a soft cough and spoke. “At least it wasn’t Robert. I can rest in peace knowing I wasn’t betrayed by one of my best friends.”

“Father, I-“ said Lego, but Kjeld spoke again, this time even weaker.

“Lego, don’t weep for me. You must be strong and keep the country together. If you don’t, the people will take matters into their own hands and the country will erupt in war.” Kjeld’s breaths were now so shallow that it was hard to hear him. “I always loved you were the best son anyone could have.....fair well.....keep the country together.....Lego.....keep it son,” Kjeld’s hand weakly grasped his son’s, and then, with one last breath, the king of the Royal Knights died.
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Postby The Green Knight » Fri Jun 10, 2005 2:56 am

Grid H-23
O’brion stretched out his toes, admiring them before he put them into his boot. That cream the merchant had given him sure worked like a charm. The beer on the other hand…well, O’Broin thought it best not to try it yet. After all, beer brewn from seaweed couldn’t taste very good. So thinking, he stepped to the stairs and emerged on deck.

“Where are we?” he asked Bobart when he found him near the wheel.

“Two miles from our destination, mate. I trust ya’ll be getting off there?”

“Aye, even if I wanted to go back I have nothing left to barter with. By the way, what’s our destination?”

“Port Blagart. We’ll be there a’fore long so I’d suggest getting’ ya’re men ready far landin’. Been a pleasure doin’ business with ya mister O’Brion. I hope ya find who ya’re lookin’ for.”
Grid: K-18
Location: Port Maltressa
Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote: “Sir…” came a voice, “We’ve docked at Port Maltressa. We’ve landed at Western Knight’s Kingdom land.”

Captain Johnson went to the door and opened it only to find the sailor still standing there. “Yes?”

“U-um there’s something else you should see.”

The captain was soon on deck and could see for himself what the sailor meant. Sitting next to them in the harbor was the strangest ship he’d ever seen. It was… well, he didn’t really have time to examine it for at that moment he found himself approached by a man of equal oddity.

“Ah, good evenin’ tae ye mister Johnson. Aloow me tae introduce meself. Road’s the name. Taylor Road. Sailor, tradesman an’ merchant extraordina—”

“No thank you.” Said the captain, still in a bit of a fowl mood. “I’m not interested in trading today.”

“Aye but I believe ye are. Word on the breeze is that ol’ King Robert’s a-hopen’ tae resurrect the Crusader navy. Aye, an’ that’ll mean findin’ more then a wee bit o’ sailors ifin I’m guessin’ a-right. So a-fore ye start settin’ ye’re press gang tae round up the fine men o’ yeer land, ye might wanna take a wee look at the merchandise I’m peddlin’ teday.”

The captain looked over the gunwhale at the small ship, near sinking under the weight of its passengers. “They look like pirates.” He said to the peddler.

“Aye, an’ I canna disagree with ye there. I wonna say that they havena played the picaroon in time o’ past. But there salty as they come an’ twice the seamen yeer lubberly pressed men would make. Aye, an' they’re going fer cheap too.”
Down on the deck of the Apple-tart Smythe was fumbling in his bag. “Worthless, worthless, useless. Isn’t there anything useful in here?”

“What are you doing?” said Targon looking over his shoulder.

“What’s it bloody look like I’m doin’? I’m tryin’ ta find somethin’ ta get me out o’ this situation!” The pirate held up a little vial of glove cleaner. If he remembered rightly, it was pretty much diluted Dragon tears. Hmmm, might be useful.

“Why don’t ya just swim fer it?”

“What! Are ye mad! I don’t want ta get ashore here. Not in Port Maltressa, that’s fer sure. Aye, maybe if this here were Palaceville but… Praps if I knew how to run this contraption we could escape. No but we couldn’t outrun the Aterops. Not in this sardine clipper. Aye, we’re in sour pickle here, matey. Gallows-fodder, the lot of us.”

Targon was considerably less worried. He wasn’t a pirate after all. What could they pin on him? Just then Taylor’s head popped over the bulwark and shouted down.

“Alrighty lads, ye can come on up.” When no one moved he shouted again. “Dinna worry lads, ye’re enlisted in the king’s navy now, so step livey.”

Still they hesitated until Peggy piped up with… “Well, it can’t be any worse then stayin’ here.” And all the pirates agreed.

As the pirates began to climb the rope ladder Taylor turned to the captain.

“Just, eh- dinna put them on the same ship, eh?”

“Aye, but I occurs to me that I’ve seen some of these men before. I don’t suppose ya’ve seen a ship by the name of The Mantis around here? My first mate was onboard.”

“Oh, Mr. O’Brion? Aye, I saw him. He was in a wee bit o’ trouble when I first happened ‘pon him, but we got him out o’ that an’ I dropped him off at port… Port, eh— Well, port sompen er other. It’s up north in Knight’s Kingdom. Aye, O’Brion’s hot on the trail, he is. Hot on the trail o’ the princess.”

Port Blagart
O’Brion was lost. He was lost in Blagart, this pitiful, desolate, gray town with depressed citizens and cruel, sneering watch-guards. He was lost in his mind, not knowing where to look for Anastasia next. And he was at a loss of hope, for he’d scoured the city with no results.

Where could she be? Was she even here? Maybe Burtrand had headed to other parts of Dametreos. Or maybe, just maybe Burtrand and Anastasia were still at the bottom of the ocean, tied to that ship’s anchor. And maybe this whole thing was a wild goose chase.

“What do ya think men?” he said, turning to his two companions.

But before they could answer, they were interrupted by another growling voice. “Heard you guys were polkin’ yer noses aroun’ here abouts. Lookin’ fer someone… We’ll I see ye’ve not found yer quarry, but ye have attracted his attention. An’ now he wants ta see ye.”

For the first time, O’Brion noticed the dozen Falcons surrounding him and his men. This was not good.
“An that, me frien’ is all I ken.” Taylor finished his story. “An’ now I’m afeared I most be gang.”

And with that he turned and slipped down the rope-ladder on to the empty deck of his ship. Johnson didn’t know what to make of it. But it didn’t matter, because at that moment there were other things to think on. Things like the crew of Corsairs standing behind him on the deck of the Aterops. And even the cheery tune of the lilting calliope couldn’t keep him from frowning.
On board the Apple-tart Targon turned to his captor. “Ok, so ya can let me off here an’ I can find me own way from there. Really, it’s no problem.”

The merchant turned to Targon with a scrutinizing eye. “Yee’re a strange one, Targon. Aye, an’ that’s why I’m not lettin’ ye out of my sight. Ye know, yeer voice sounds a wee bit garbled taeday. Ifin ye care tae tell me why, I might jus’ let ye go ashore. Why dinna ye step intae me cabin, mister Destructible.”
Let us stop for a moment and ponder the signiture...

Ok, enough of that!
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Postby Sir Kohran » Fri Jun 10, 2005 8:12 pm

Grid: P-19
Location: The Bonecrack, near the coast

He looked up. The sky was a dull-grey, with a sprinkling of faint blue peeping through the gaps, which matched the figure’s robes, which were draped around him. His iron staff rested on the rail of the vessel, within a hand’s reach.

He glanced around him slowly. He was gradually nearing land; the ship was slowly forcing its way towards the shallows, where the lightly-pebbled, mostly sandy beach awaited them. The ship was moving slowly, what with only one soul to pilot it, but he was sure it would get there before it sank beneath the waves. Silently, he turned, surveying the awful carnage and the bodies strewn about the once-proud Bonecrack, calmly making sure they were all slain.

He frowned. Crewmen lay dead all around him, killed in various ways, their corpses scattered across the different parts of the ship. It had been a hopeless cause for both sides, but being pirates, and thus quite foolish, they had ruthlessly engaged in battle.

He sighed. Even though these pirates were common cutthroats, perhaps they didn’t all deserve their deaths. However, most of them probably did. Earlier, he had overheard the hired pirates discussing plans of his murder, suspecting that his staff might be worth something. So he returned the compliment, by alerting their position to a rival crew and ship. The opposing pirate crews promptly attacked each other, resulting in the horror before him. The idiots, lured by promises of gold and jewels, had fallen right for it, butchering each other, and sinking one of the ships. Now he was free to go his own way. Of course, he had opened a hole in the hull of the ship, letting the craft slowly slip into the abyss, covering all signs of his brutal operations. Effectively, he had played both sides against each other and left no tracks.

He winced. Waves of pain shot through his left hand. The reason why was hidden in a black glove. But he had come to welcome those pains; they reminded him of the reason he fought. They reminded hi mof the resolve in his heart.

He looked up. There, standing amongst the bodies by the mast, stood that same dark figure, staring out at him from beneath a black hood, with perhaps just a hint of sarcasm.

Solesstorn glared back.

Solesstorn really hated ghosts.
Last edited by Sir Kohran on Tue Jun 28, 2005 6:32 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Dragoman » Sat Jun 11, 2005 3:17 am

Grid: S-1
Location: Hellecell (Somewhere beneath the surface).
Dragoman wrote:Theron then spoke cryptically when he said “look around you Arthus of the Scorpio, no further do we travel…we are here.”

When Arthus had looked, he realized that he had gone into a long dark hall with floors of old stones and walls of a cold black color. Along these lengthy hallway walls were sinister looking giant sculpted skulls with flames used as torches within their soot covered mouths.

Arthus turned to face where he had come, but when he had; he saw neither the glowing archway nor the strange smoke but an ash filled land with rivers of magma surrounded by unquenchable flames. Arthus stared bewildered for a short time just inside what he realized to be a kind of antechamber.

Theron’s Shadow Knights stayed calm through most of what they had seen and Arthus was no exception, though the intensity of the predicament still weighed heavily upon them.

Theron was looking down the hall as if trying to get a glimpse of something illusive. He then turned and looked back at Jedrek in a mysterious manner. Jedrek found it strange but he seemed still to know exactly what Theron meant and with it looked back at Arthus and said “it’s time”.

To this Arthus stood tall and looked at the meager troops, who were now in formation.
“Shadow Knights!” said Arthus openly “prepare your selves, for this is the hour. It will either be death or life for us depending on our devotion to this cause. Stay fearless and remain vigilant for we don’t know exactly what await us. But remember, we are Shadow Knights; we should fear nothing of the darkness for we are of the darkness. And Let us not forget the lessen Theron taught us about loosing hope, for we will surly need it in this conflict. So Shadow knight, stand fast and be ready.”

Then Theron in his bear like tone said “let’s move”

They all made there way down the menacing hall, holding their weapons tighter then before.

When they had reached the large twin doors at the end of the hall they saw an inscription placed at its arch which read: all who enter will be mine.

Theron was the only one who understood the ancient language on this inscription but chose to tell to other of its meaning.

No Shadow Knight paused as they got closer and Theron pushed open the dark colored doors with out hesitation. But what they saw then was something that they had never expected to see in Hellecell.
"a man will give his life for a mystery, but not a question mark."
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Postby Formendacil » Sat Jun 11, 2005 10:04 pm

Grid: P-9
Location: A seaport, in the southern Dark Forest Fell Isle territory.

Formendacil wrote:It took a couple days to deliver the furniture and goods to the local people. The recipients gladly came to help, and there were more than a couple tearful thank-you/good-byes. It was only on the last night, when Thomas and Sir Dractor laid out their bedrolls on the plain floor that had once been the Brakespear kitchen, that Thomas realised that he was really and truly leaving, and not likely to come back.

Sir Dractor and Thomas took their time leaving Hemmerington. It was more of an amble up the country to the coast than a journey. Even Thomas, who had never been away from Hemmerington in his life, didn't find it too adventurous. One Dark Forest village in those parts was much like another.

The Fell Sea was quite exciting though. A massive, churning expanse of water- salty at that!- was something he had never seen before. And the ships that docked in the port, fisherman's vessels, trading vessels, a couple of Dark Forestman naval vessels, and others, were utterly strange and mysterious to him.

It was good, Sir Dractor thought, that it WAS mysterious to him. Thomas needed all the mystery and excitement he could get to distract him from his recent loss. So far, he seemed to be in decent spirits, and displayed a lively curiosity, and Sir Dractor wanted to keep it that way.

With the Dark Forest and Forestmen borders now open, they booked passage to Delvarden Gard on a Crusader trading vessel.

At their first night at sea, something rather interesting happened...

Thomas and Sir Dractor were sleeping in their cabin (Thomas had taken to the sea marvellously well), when Sir Dractor's senses were alerted. Snapping awake, he heard the muffled sounds of people in the room.

"What's going on?" he snapped. The figures fled, all but the one that Sir Dractor managed to catch by the leg as he dashed away.

"Light the lamp," Sir Dractor told Thomas, who was awake by now. Once lit, they got a look at the intruder. He was one of the Crusader sailors that manned the ship.

"What were you doing in here?" asked Sir Dractor.

"We..." the sailor hesistated at first, but Sir Dractor frowned, grasped him a little bit tighter, and he decided to squeal.

"We were after the bounty!" he blurted out.

"What bounty?" asked Sir Dractor, confused.

"The one put out in the underworld for the old man known as Magarus and his companions Elwen dan Raleigh and Sir Aethelred Dractor," said the sailor, shocked that Sir Dractor didn't seem to know about it. "The bounty posted by the Sorceror-king."

"The Sorceror-king's long gone," said Sir Dractor, dismissively. "He fled Dametreos two months ago. He won't be paying any bounties. I would have thought that the underworld was efficient enough to know things like that."

"We... er.." said the sailor, plainly embarrassed. "We, were, uh, trapped in Dark Forest territory for a few months. They closed the borders, and wouldn't let us out."

"Is the captain in on this?"

"Only a few of us."


After having wrung the names out of the sailor, and handing him over to the captain with those names, telling him that he had a pack of criminals in his employ, Sir Dractor returned to the cabin. He saw that Thomas was still awake, and rather perplexed looking at that.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"You had a bounty on your head..." said Thomas.

"Yes, the Sorceror-king put it there."

"But... only bad people are supposed to have bounties," said Thomas.

"This bounty was posted in the underworld, remember?" said Sir Dractor. "So it's only the criminals and such who would be after me."

Thomas looked relieved. Sir Dractor suppressed a grin, and decided to tell Thomas something he didn't expect.

"There's still a bounty on my head in Leidenheim, and all across the Crusader colony," he told Thomas. Thomas was shocked.

"Why?" he asked.

"I broke the law," said Sir Dractor, shocking Thomas a great deal more. "It wasn't the wisest thing to do, but my companions and I were in a hurry, and the Sorceror-king had put a few annoying roadblocks in our way. In our haste to get out of the city, we ended up getting our descriptions posted with the sum of 500 gold marks across the colony."

Thomas seemed to be struggling with the concept.

"But, you broke the law!"

"Yes, Thomas," said Sir Dractor, "and I'm not proud of it. But sometimes breaking the law is necessary. Never pleasant, or always justifiable, but necessary. The Old Man and the Sorceror-king were closely tied ultimately. Had the Old Man arrived in Talistrand later than he did, as would have been the case if we hadn't broken Leidenheim's law, the Sorceror-king would have gone right on to the Old Ruins, and have likely been successful in his quest, therefore wiping out my entire homeland- and many others.

"Actually," said Sir Dractor, thinking about it. "The Sorceror-king stayed within the letter of the law a lot better than the Old Man or I did- until reaching Talistrand. He had Cavalier help while the Old Man was keeping the company of the likes of Jack Blackheart."

"But..." Thomas clearly had some skewed understandings here, "aren't the bad guys the ones who are supposed to break the law? Aren't the Cavaliers supposed to help those in the right?"

"Supposed to is a couple of words that you should think about for a while," suggested Sir Dractor. "The line between right and wrong is often hard to make out, and often doesn't match the line between legal and illegal. Quite often, good people have to do bad things, and something bad people will do what appear to be good things. Good and evil aren't clearcut.

"Take the BloodVaine War, for example. BloodVaine was evil, that I will not deny. But among his top allies, one was Dacker Colagart, a man who retained a good deal of 'good' in him, and helped bring down BloodVaine. And then on our side you had Lord Void, an arrogant, sarcastic sorceror who would have been fighting against us if BloodVaine hadn't come along. Good is an ideal that should always be striven for, but one isn't always successful."

"So there are no real heroes then?" said Thomas, a bit depressed. "What about Fraun Jerlock, Radjar Kath, and Valus Naras? I've heard nothing bad about them?"

"You wouldn't, living in Hemmerington," said Sir Dractor. "But yes, they are (or were) good men. And they were heroes. But no man is perfectly good. At least, no man that I have ever met. I have never met Valus Naras, but I travelled with Radjar Kath and Fraun Jerlock, and I can tell you that, while they were good men, they had their faults.

"Radjar is a great man, and a great warrior. It isn't for no reason that Queen Arabella has kept him as one of her chief advisors and commanders. But he was, and is, a man for whom peace and comfort aren't enjoyments for long. Radjar itches for excitement. That's why he abdicated. In the end, he could see that the throne wasn't going to satisfy him- and that he wouldn't do his people justice. Abdicating was a very heroic effort, one that most people don't appreciate.

"As for Fraun Jerlock, he's a good man, but he's not a responsible one in my opinion. Like Radjar, he's an adventurer, prone to disappearing off on adventures without a thought towards others. And in the matters of love, he can be hopelessly illogical."

Thomas smiled. Even in seeing his heroes taken down a notch, there was still amusement.

"I don't think that the matters of love are supposed to be logical," he said.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," said Sir Dractor, almost wistfully. "I wouldn't know."

Thomas blew out the lamp, and they settled down to try and get some more sleep. But as Thomas was starting to drift off, he heard Sir Dractor's chuckle.

"You know, I first met the man we are going to see, Lord Bjarn, from the inside of one of his prisons. He was threatening to have me killed if I tried to escape..." Sir Dractor's chuckle died off as he drifted to sleep, but Thomas was wide awake for a while.

What kind of a strange world was it out here?
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Postby Robin Hood » Sun Jun 12, 2005 2:01 am

Grid: G-8
Location: Castleton

Lego sat beside his father for a long time. He had no idea how long it was, but eventually the real Robert stumbled back to the castle and found them there. He raised the alarm, but it was no good. The kind was dead, and the mysterious attacker had disappeared.

The funeral was held two weeks later. From all over the country people came to pay their respects. Duke Kristen, along with Vallen, was one of the first to arrive. The Duke and Lego had a long, private talk about the whole matter. Vallen, who had observed most of it, felt that at the end, some agreement had been made.

Among most of the lords and ladies of the country, delegates from several lands came. The Emperor himself sent a special envoy convening his sorrow. The Falcons sent an ambassador as a sign of good will toward their previous enemies.

When time came for the funeral, Kjeld was buried beside his father, Barbarossa, in a small grave. As was traditional, all Royal Knight kings were buried in a cemetery, reserved for the kings only. A simple stone was placed at the head of the grave.

Kjeld Castlin

That was all.

All day, various people came to the grave to pay homage to their departed leader. All throughout, Lego, Vallen, and Kristen stayed and watched silently. Finally, as night fell, Duke Kristen took Vallen to the castle, leaving Lego alone.

As he stared at the simple letters on the stone, Lego thought back. He saw clearly, all too clearly, the spear plunging into his father’s chest, the strange being shifting form, flying out the window.

As he thought about this, he remembered the smile he had seen for the briefest of moments, before the killer had changed into the black form. Lego sank to his knees; he pounded his fists into the soft earth. He would find that killer. He would see it killed, that he swore.


Upon reaching the edge of the city, Cloak transformed back into his real shape. He started walking down the south road. As he did, he considered the whole operation.

It had gone rather well. He hadn’t expected the prince to show up, but things always happened in these situations.

He had hoped to disappear while in Robert’s form, but when the prince had blocked his way, he had no choice.

Cloak sighed. His employer would not be happy. He had hoped to get the country into war. ”Oh well,” thought Cloak. ”That’s his problem, not mine. So long as I get paid, I don’t care.

Laughing to himself, the black figure continued down the road.
I build, therefore I am.

Brave words coming from a guy called grapenuts.
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Postby Formendacil » Sun Jun 12, 2005 2:47 am

Grid: R-8
Loc.: Daggerfall

Sir Drake wrote:Willem Blackcloak, true leader of the Wolfpack had arrived two days ago at Daggerfall, capital of the Wolfpack. Today, he was getting crowned. All the representatives were at the official coronation at the cathedral.
After a half an hour, Willem proudly strode in, followed by some elite Wolfpack soldiers, clad in Wolfpack brown. At the altar, they stopped and lined up in two lines, between them, an elder walked, holding the Crown in his hands.
Then, the priest started to speak:

"Willem Blackcloak, Lord of the Throne of the Three Daggers, receive the crown of Hadar Shadowlire, and the authority of the Wolfpack realm."

At this point, Willem was supposed to kneel. However, he remained standing. Instead of waiting for the elder to place the crown on his head, he reached out with his lightning-fast speed, and grabbed the crown for himself.

He held it aloft, and began to address the slightly-shocked crowd. Graygon, inconspicuously dressed, snuck up behind the elder, and quietly suggested he remain silent.

"People of the Wolfpack!" Willem's voice rang clear. "You have gathered here today to see the coronation of a king. Well, I am sorry to disappoint you. I have already been crowned, and therefore such a ceremony will not take place here today.

"For several years before the troubles began by the Grimtongue family, but perpetuated by Varras and others, I was already the King of the Throne of the Three Daggers. I never abdicated this title, and as I never died, any claimants who have claimed it for themselves are traitors.

"Let me make this perfectly clear: this is not the start of a new age; this is continuation of one wrongly interrupted. I am not the claimant to the throne accepting its responsibilities, I am its rightful owner returning from exile."

And Willem Blackcloak, King of the Throne of the Three Daggers, placed the crown on his head, and ascended the Throne of the Three Daggers. He gestured Graygon forward to speak.

"His Royal Highness, in a royal decree of this date," Graygon began to proclaim, reading from a fancy, rolled parchment, "herewith abolishes the government of the Wolfpack people by their current system of government in which the Wolfpack people are led by their individual clan leaders. All the authorities, powers, and rights formerly held by the clan leaders, saving those to be exempted, are herewith re-assigned to the authority of the Althing.

"The Althing of the Wolfpack is herewith incorporated as the legislative body of the Wolfpack nation, replacing the clan leaders as the chief lawmakers. The Althing is to be composed of members of the various clans, to meet at least once yearly, and to exercise the powers formerly held by the clan leaders."

Graygon stepped back, and smiled a rather cunning, Wolfpack-ish, smile. The Althing will be basically the same clan leaders, he thought, but they must now work together to make laws, rather than acting as independently as they previously did.

The new announcement did not go over well with some of those gathered. The members of the long-rogue Weaselbreath clan, resourceful as all the Wolfpack, quickly drew some rather illegal (for the coronation) daggers from beneath their clothes, and launched themselves at the king.

But Willem had expected this, and before they even made it two feet, Graygon and a team of royal Loyalists, hidden in the crowd, had drawn daggers, and felled the insurgents. The elite guards, not practised in normal, speedy, Wolfpack combat, hadn't even had a chance to move.

The rest of those gathered, seeing where the power lay, and most of them supporting the changes, rose in thunderous applause.

Graygon winked at his king. One way or another, they would keep the peace in their kingdom.
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