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Classic-Castle Roleplay: August 2005

LEGO gaming, including group role playing games

Postby TheOrk » Tue Aug 23, 2005 4:00 pm

J-6 Bardelen, The Land of the Bulls

Kale rode near to the summit of a high ridge and reigned his horse. It had taken him over a month and a half to cover a distance he could go over in a week or two. There had been too many distractions getting here.

For some reason there seemed to be an explosion in the population of orc wolfriders and drazards in the last week. Enough so that Kale could refill his money pouch after his bender in Orion.

Kale trotted slowly to the top of the high rock crowned ridge. Soon his eye fell on the familiar rugged landscape. Spurring his horse onward he bolted down the hill. He flew down an old overgrown road and over a crumbling bridge.

Firey arrows lit up the night sky. Kale watched in horrid facination as they fell back to earth, over a dozen Bull Knights, many he had known well, were plucked from their saddles. Kale felt one cold bolt bury inself in his shoulder. Grunting he ripped it out.

Tyco it if it got infected, the battle was at it’s breaking point and he had yet to face the enemy.
The ragged infantry division holding the bridge was starting to break. Kale knew that would be the end of it. In the last week it seemed, every enclave of Bull resistance had been decimated by the Bloody Falcons.

Kale was still hesitant about openly fighting with his fellow Bull’s. He had a hefty price on his head for murder, set by the King himself. But he and the rest of the royal family had been destroyed, and the Bull Nation was catching up, so it didn’t really matter anymore.

Then the blue and black tide of the Bloody Falcons broke through. “Fall back to Bardelen!” Barked a Bull captian, moments before he was ripped from his saddle by a horde of Black Falcons. Wrenching his sword from a Falcon’s chest, Kale fell back in the opposite direction……..

Kale came to an overgrown hedge. On the otherside of it lay the ruins of Bardelen. A prosperous town sacked by the Black Falcons. His home. Kale turned a corner and steeled himelf for the site. He blinked in amazement. Much of the wreckage seemed to be cleaned up and numerous stone and wooden buildings dotted the landscape. At the top of one small motte and baily castle fluttered a pennant with the insignia of the Bulls. Kale was home…
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Postby Sir Kohran » Tue Aug 23, 2005 8:56 pm

Sir Drake wrote:In the distance, Jaythus saw another man fighting wolves and not so far of him, Viktor and Santis were holding out.

Grid: K-10
Location: LEGOland Plains

Santis was bodily hacking at the wolf riders. How long can we keep this up? he thought, as he brought down another enemy. Suddenly, he and his steed crashed to the ground as a wolf rider pounced upon them both, slamming Santis to the earth. He barely rolled over, to see the wolf rider recovering. A second later, it charged towards him.

Years of experience had calmed Santis, and though he was half-stunned and bleeding, he snatched up a rock and smashed it into the wolf's opening mouth, knocking the monster to the ground. The Orc rider fled.

"Close shave..." Santis muttered, snatching up his sword and warhammer, and discarding his heavy shield. He ran towards the approaching riders with a shout, and attracted one. He jumped under it's legs and cut them with his weapons, bringing down the wolf from below, and crushing the Orc rider.

He turned to see Viktor, still mounted. The Banterian had just beheaded another beast when a barbed Orc arrow hit his leg, surprising the horse, which allowed an Orc to push him off his steed with his club. Viktor got up quickly, ignoring the arrow in his leg, and impaled the Orc. He retreated back to Santis.

"This isn't looking good," Santis gasped, steadying himself.

"No matter," Viktor replied, watching the Orcs regroup. "Let's take 'em."

The two split to combat the oncoming enemies. Santis staggered under a blow from an Orc axe. The armour withstood the blow, but the blow sent waves of pain through the Orkosanian Knight. Gritting his teeth, Santis took down the Orc, and turned to face his next foe.

The Orcs, due to their leather and rusty metal armour, were easy to dispatch by themselves, but they had great ferocity in a pack, and there were also many Orcs left to slay. Also far too many Orcs that Viktor and he couldn't all slay.

And where's Jaythus in all this? Santis worried. Solesstorn didn't apear to be mounted anymore, and Santis's young charge wasn't anywhere to be seen, though there were a few other strangers in the fighting, probably drawn by the sounds of battle.

Sir Drake wrote:The man on the hill ran down towards him, followed by two others, judging by their forms, a woman and another man.

"Solesstorn, I, eh, could use some help here" Jaythus managed to bring out. The weight of the animals was almost killing him.

Jaythus was about to pass out beneath the weight of the two animals. The sounds of battle and the din of arms rang in his ears, but he ignored it. He was wondering how he would possibly survive this time. To his Solesstorn appeared to have forgotten him; he was busy bringing down an Orc with his steel staff, his black cloak turned to the trapped ambassador. Santis and Viktor were busy fighting in the front, both of them stained with blood and wounds, but still standing.

Suddenly, a hefty pull retreived the stunned Jaythus from under the horse and wolf. Air! he managed to think. Suck it in, breath...

He staggered round, to see his rescuer, a tall, slim figure hidden in a hood and cloak, which he somehow knew was a woman. "She" didn't stop and speak, but turned, unsheathing a sword, and charged back into the action.

"Jaythus, lad, um...a bit of help, please!" Santis cried from a few metres away.

Jaythus was feeling sick, tired and hungry, but nonetheless he could see that Santis and Viktor were close to being overwhelmed. Viktor was able to get under his opponents' defenses with his agility, and Santis could break through his foes with raw strength, but both were tiring under the relentless tide of enemies, were worn and wounded, and besides that, they were fighting on foot.

Wearily, he picked up a jagged Orc sword and his Talonjay shield. He couldn't find his Morcian sword, so the Orc sword would have to do. Doggedly, he lowered his visor, and ran towards the fighting.

He staggered round, to see his rescuer, a tall, slim figure hidden in a hood and cloak, which he somehow knew was a woman. "She" didn't stop and speak, but turned, unsheathing a sword, and charged back into the action.

She turned, and confronted another green-skinned Orc, who was wielding a hammer. A sudden slash decapitated him.

"Mikelen, are you there?" she asked behind her.

"Yes, milady," an elderly man from behind her replied, as he swung his cane.

Sir Drake wrote:Next to him, Solesstorn crawled back up.

Magic? Again? No, not just yet...the Wizard thought to himself.

Solesstorn was the only member of the humans (if he and his undead hand counted as human) that wasn't particularly troubled or hurt, though he had taken a blow from a blunt spear to the arm.

Two or three more Orcs attacked. Solesstorn dealt with them swiftly, bringing two down with powerful swings from his long iron staff. The third fled, shrieking with fear. Another pair were coming towards him, spear and axe raised, roaring battle cries.

Suddenly, they fell to the mighty strokes of a tall man clad in a black cloak, with what looked like a faded Wolfpack tunic beneath. Solesstorn spoke quickly.

"Glad to have you with us," he shouted. "Who are you?"

"Swift," the man answered abruptly.

Solesstorn nodded, then returned to the fighting. There were still many more Wolf Riders to be taken care of.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Tue Aug 23, 2005 10:31 pm

Sir Kohran wrote:There were still many more Wolf Riders to be taken care of.

Grid: K-10
Location: LEGOland Plains

Standing near to Santis, Viktor continued to wield his Crusader broadsword, not in sweeping blows like Santis, but in thrusts and stabs; skewering orc after orc. The pain in his leg was horrible, and Viktor knew he was loosing blood fast. Five more minutes, ten max, and he would faint from loss of blood. And then he would be dead.

It was then that Viktor suddenly noticed that the persons battling the wolf riders had somehow grown. Two, three, four, perhaps more people had appeared, wielding broadswords and kantanas (Kantanas? puzzled Viktor, Ninjas?. But Viktor couldn’t waste time staring. He brought his large rectangular shield up quickly and blocked a blow from a spiked mace before impaling the wielder. Behind him, he could hear Solesstorn cracking skulls.

Why doesn’t the son of a tyco use his magic? Viktor grumbled, wiping rain and blood from his face. The skies were getting darker. The rain was pouring harder.

Suddenly, at that moment, a harsh call ripped through the air. At once, the remaining orcs and wolves vanished into the streaking rain. Santis let out a growl of triumph. Jaythus cheered weakly. Viktor at once dropped to one knee and ripped the saddlecloth off the prone form of Santis’ horse. He bound it around his leg awkwardly. Crude, but it would do for now.

“We survived!” called Jaythus.

All the strangers began to converge. One said warningly, “Death strikes by air as well as by land.”

“What?” asked Santis.

Solesstorn swore.

“Get DOWN!” he bellowed, and threw himself over Jaythus. Viktor looked up. At first he saw nothing, and continued to stare. It nearly cost him his life. Black arrows streaked through the pelting rain and spun downward.


Viktor dove under his shield. It rattled as the flint tips buried deep in the wood. Above him, Santis grunted in pain as a dozen arrows bounced off his battered armor. Cautiously, Viktor raised his head. None of the strangers seemed too harmed, the Ninja-folks were calmly standing there. Viktor wondered for a second if they had dodged the arrows. The Wolfpack person had three arrows in his back, but he was pulling them out disdainfully, ignoring the pain. Santis was cursing and swearing: an arrow had managed to penetrate a weak spot in his armor and had imbedded itself in his neck. Quite amazingly, it appeared the shaft had missed the throat and arteries. Viktor threw off his shield and gazed into the wind. No more arrows came. Wind lashed rain into his face, stinging.

Why would the orcs flee in a rainstorm? Viktor wondered, orcs love water: that’s why the make such good corsairs.

Solesstorn rose, groaning. An arrow had penetrated one of his hands.

“They’ll be back.” he said, “They’ll fight until either all of us are dead or all of them are --”

Jaythus interrupted, gasping.

“Your hand!”

Viktor looked close, and felt his stomach turn. Solesstorn’s hand was not bleeding. Viktor realised this had been the first time he had seen Solesstorn’s hand. It was green, and looked dead. Dead flesh that had not rotted. An undead hand.

Santis looked at the hand and recoiled. Then he glowered at Solesstorn.

“Looks like you’ve got some explaining to do…” he growled.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Tue Aug 23, 2005 10:56 pm

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:"Now...Dale," Alice began quietly, "You've never really told any of us. How did you come to be buried alive?"

Dale stiffened. He knew this time had to come. Carefully, he prepared his next words...

Grid: P-10
Location: A room in Mistress Korvalt’s house, located in the Dark Forest village of Hemmerington

“I…I was cursed by a wizard.” Dale began, “A Dragon Master called Majisto.”

Alice grimaced. Dale looked at her.

“You know of him?” he asked.

“No,” said Alice, smiling a little, “but who doesn’t grimace at the mention of Dragon Masters?”

Dale nodded.

“Well,” he continued, “I was traveling with some companions of mine, Forestmen, and Wolfpack…when it happened. We were camped out where my grave is when…”

Dale pause, torn between how much to tell and how much to hide.

“…Majisto attacked. With Deathers. He…wanted something of ours. He stabbed me, right here.”

Dale touched the ropy scar that lay over his heart.

“I thought I had died. There was a flash of pain, then nothing. Then…then I suppose my friends buried my body. I don’t really know. I guess I was sort of unconscious for a long time. My…spirit, that is. Well, one day, I just became…aware of myself again. Woke up, I guess. I was in Drullen Bell Keep. And I was a ghost. And…I was trapped within a sword.”

Dale looked at Alice. She was listening intently, hands supporting her chin.

“I could never be more that a few yards away from that cursed sword, the sword that killed me. Eventually, I learned how to wield it, to control it at will. It began almost second nature.”

Dale pause, very much aware he was leaving too much out. But he plowed onward.

“Then, during the Imperial Ball, you know, the one that was hosted in July, I was confronted by a wizard, a different one. He freed me. I don’t know how, but he did somehow. I awoke in my body. I don’t remember much else…”

Dale looked down at his clasped hands. Alice let out a breath.

“That is…” she said, staring intently at him, “So sad.”

Dale felt grateful for her sympathy, but guilty at hiding so much from her.

“I guess the magic of Majisto kept your body from decomposing?” she suggested.

Dale shrugged.

“I don’t know. I suppose. I guess I was really never dead when I was a “ghost”. Maybe there are no true ghosts: only dead people and living people.”

“Then what were you those months?” asked Alice quietly.

“I don’t know.” said Dale, “I don’t know…”

A bird chirped outside, and that seemed to snap both of them out of their revere. Alice rose swiftly and began packing her basket.

“I have to go. Healer Melkan has some flint seeds for me to grind. I will see you in two hours.”

She turned about in the doorway, smiling gently.

“Rest well, Dale.”

Dale nodded, then she was gone.
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Postby TheOrk » Wed Aug 24, 2005 1:32 am

L-12 Castle Dracul Area

Shrieks and howls lit up the night sky. Belzzar grasped his batstaff instinctively. Those howls sounded like Drazards on the hunt. Sighing Belzzar sank back into his hateful state. He had been sitting in a chair in the small camp for days on end, trying to figure out away to finish off Pythos and reclaim his lands. It seemed not all of his men served Pythos. He had gathered several hundred men still loyal to him. According to many of them, Pythos had been doing strange things from the moment Belzzar left.

There were strange tales of creatures in bronze and silver armour breaking into people’s homes and carrying off the poor souls inside. Many claimed to hear their screams and those of unatural, savage beasts echoing up from the depths of Castle Dracul.

Belzzar soon became aware of some commotion in the camp. Getting up, he was surprised to see a battered Radu stumble into his tent. “Wine!” He croaked, crumbling into a chair. Belzzar tossed him a bottle of some dribble picked up from the Crusaders.

“What happened?” Snapped Belzzar. Radu had been gone for nearly two whole weeks. Radu seemed to be covered in blood and mud. Some of it was his, most of other minifigs, there even seemed to be something of drazard blood down his side.

“Curse that tyco megablox Pythos. I have had to put up with drazards, orcs, gargoyles, bloody traitors and...and…” Radu was lost in thought. A look of sheer terror came over his face. Belzzar was very taken back by that. He had never managed to get that response from a victim in his torture chambers and he was postive the blood thirsty Fright Knight Captian sitting infront of him never was that afraid in his life.

“What happened?” Growled Belzzar, his patience fading.

“Demons.” Whimpered Radu. His right hand was locked in a death grip on his blood stained scimitar. “Pythos is doing something up in the castle. Something I don’t think any sane minifig would even conceive of thinking of doing such a thing.”

“I thought we had established that Pythos was utterly insane months ago?” Muttered Belzzar dryly.

“He has to be stopped now.” Muttered Radu, holding his bottle with a shaking hand.

“O he will be.” Declared Bellzar “these outlanders cannot grasp our ways. None shall defy the Fright Knights! I will have Pythos’s head on a pike within the week. With my knowledge of the lowest levels of Castle Dracul and the troops we have here, we can take it back swiftly.”

Radu looked at him and nodded “don’t you think we should gather reinforcements first? Lord Durak or perhaps Vaekae-
“ before Radu could continue, Belzzar cut him off.

“No! If any of the other Batlords get wind of this, I’ll lose favor with the Lady and will probley get a knife in the back before long…”
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Postby Maedhros » Wed Aug 24, 2005 1:08 pm

Maedhros wrote:Kor shrugged off some rainwater and looked at Takemasa.

They didn´t need to speak. Takemasa began to run toward the encampment and Kor followed him.

Grid: K-10
Location: LEGOland Hills

A thick cloud had spread out all over the encampment and the only visible point was the top of the peak.
They ground was very slippery and they stepped on both blood and immobile bodies. None of them spoke. They just wanted to get on top of this and breath. Coughing they climbed up the peak. Kor had some trouble with his arm but Takemasa helped him. When they reached the top of it both of them let out a deep breath. They could breath fresh air again.

After a few moments they bean to look around. There were some signs of a newly dead fire and they could also see a dead orc lying beside it. Now they could hear more sounds, but it was further away. Sounds of battle.

"So, that was the wolfhowls", Takemasa said. "But where is Hidemitsu, and what happened to all the orcs?"

Kor shrugged his shoulders. "I don´t know, and it´ll be hard to find out until this tyco smoke is gone."

"So, shall we wait here?" Takemas asked.

"I don´t know, but i don´t think it´s wise to stay here. i don´t like the smell of this smoke, we should get away from here... and besides, the battle isn´t over."

Takemasa grinned for a moments but then looked at the ground. He looked like he was going to sob. "I suppose that´s what he had wanted..."

Kor stared at him. "What? You believe him dead? I don´t think Hidemitsu let himself be killed by those tyco greenskins." Takemasa met his gaze but shrugged.

"I, I don´t know. But where would he be?"

Kor shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea but I think there´s no reason to just sit here and well, wait. Let´s get going." He took a deep breath and began to climb down the small peak again.

Takemasa looked after him. You, you coldhearted shifty brick! I should have saved my strength for my brother instead of you. He sat down and buried his face in his hands.

Kor quickly made his way out of the smokecovered encampment and strided out into the rainy darkness. He saw nothing but he followed the sounds. They wouldn´t far away. He realized that Takemasa wouldn´t come but he couldn´t blame him. Kor was worried sick as well but he didn´t just want to sit down and wait. Or was it a wish to repent? For not being there to help Hidemitsu.

Takemasa awakened with a start. He jumped up on his feet and raised the dagger. He was furious at himself, how could he have fallen asleep. He glanced around the peak and saw nothing, except.

"Hidemitsu!" He dropped his dagger and embraced his brother who was standing behind him.

"Oh, please. let me go, Takemasa-chan." His voice sounded weak and exhausted. Takemasa released him and looked at him. His clothes were dirty and ragged and he was covered in blood, both red and black. He had quite a few scratches and cuts.

"What happened?" Takemasa asked with a worried look on his face.

"We have no time to talk about that, where is Kor?"

"He... uhm, he followed the sounds of battle and... you know..."

Hidemitsu stared at him. "He joined the battle? And you stayed here? No time to lose." Hidemitsu jumped down the peak and ran with the swiftness of a panther through the smoke. Takemasa quickly followed.

When they were oput of the smoke Takemasa stopped and shouted: "But, you can´t fight! You´re hurt."

Hidemitsu stopped and turned around with a furious look on his face. "I will fight, you don´t need to join me but i´ll do it. Intellabrix these scratches. They won´t keep me from fighting for what I believe in." Then he turned and continued out into the darkness.

Takemasa shrugged and followed him. He ain´t mortal, he thought. He ain´t mortal.
"Hinc satis elucet maiorem habere uim ad discenda ista liberam curiositatem quam meticulosam necessitatem.”
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Postby Maedhros » Wed Aug 24, 2005 1:28 pm

Grid: K-10
Location: LEGOland plains

Takemasa shrugged and followed him. He ain´t mortal, he thought. He ain´t mortal.

Kor had engaged the enemy now. He didn´t really know how time passed. Everything was just a blur of bodies, blood and weapons trying to hit him. He wasn´t sure who else was fighting but he could hear human voices far away.

Hidemitsu and Takemasa hadn´t been running very long when they reached the battle. They saw Kor and joined him both sides. He didn´t see them at first but when he realized that Hidemitsu was there and alive he nearly stopped fighting.

Hidemitsu beheaded an orc and grinned at him. "Concentrate on the battle now."

They pushed on further into the mass of wolves and orcs and now Hidemitsu could clearly see other humans. Or at least brightly colored armour. Eastern Knights Kingdomers, I wonder if that´s good or bad. Good for now at least.

Suddenly, at that moment, a harsh call ripped through the air. At once, the remaining orcs and wolves vanished into the streaking rain. Santis let out a growl of triumph. Jaythus cheered weakly.

Hidemitsu fell donwon his knees. "We made it, for now at least." He din´t rest more than a few moments and closed in to the other fighters. Takemasa and Kor followed him but before anyone had time to talk one of the strangers spoke:

“Death strikes by air as well as by land.”

“What?” asked Santis.

Solesstorn swore.

“Get DOWN!” he bellowed, and threw himself over Jaythus. Viktor looked up. At first he saw nothing, and continued to stare. It nearly cost him his life. Black arrows streaked through the pelting rain and spun downward.


Viktor dove under his shield. It rattled as the flint tips buried deep in the wood.

Hidemitsu pushed down Kor and he and Takemasa jumped in different directions and evaded the arrows. As soon as the rain of arrows had stopped they rolled unto their feet again and Hidemitsu helped Kor on his feet. Then they just stood there and quietly looked at the others.

A strange lot indeed.
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Postby TheOrk » Wed Aug 24, 2005 8:39 pm

I-6 Bardelen

Kale felt strange. Sort of reinvigorated, like sitting down a mug of olde Bull Beer after a hard day of work. He felt now that he could take on all of the Bloody Falcons without any problems. After seeing the fortress of Bardelen rebuilt he came back to the bitter reality that he only had one lead weight off his shoulder. Even if the Bull’s had been “conqered” and rebuilt, he still had doubts they’d forgive a murderer.

His family once lived at Bardelen, but not anymore. As far as he was able to figure out. His parents and the last knot of warriors went down fighting. Staring in disbelief at the villagers milling about him, he continued onward toward the castle. The grizzeled guard at the gate opened it once he saw Kale. Not many Bulls could say they had a full well maintained suit of the platemail worn by the elite knights of bygone days.

Kale was met with many slaps on the back and the standard form of Bull hospitality. Beer. Through it all Kale learned that Prince Barbod had somehow survived and returned to rebuild the kingdom. Many of the former Bulls had congrigated at Bull Isle, a ways down south.

Kale wouldn’t bother inquiring about his birthright. The fellow Barbod had made baron seemed to be a fine fellow from the Bull Isle. Besides Kale had no stomache for ruling.Kale didn’t reveal much about his past. Only that he was pure blooded Bull from the old days. The Baron in charge most likely would have asked more questions about Kale’s suit of armour but by this time the beer flowed freely.

The following day, when most of the minfigs still lay sprawled out in the great hall Kale made ready to leave. Before he kicked his horse onward the last words he said to whoever was listening were that he was going to pay a visit to the King.


I-6 Taurus Stronghold

Kale rode into the afternoon, following the Barbuckle River northward. Up in this area of Dametreos the land was of rolling hills crowned with rocky outcroppings. It had been too long since he last visited this place. King Barbod had finished rebuilding the Taurus Stronghold. It had taken less then a year too. But the castles of other factions were too grand and foppish. Bull castles were rough looking but would stand longer. Unlike Bardelen which was a wooden motte and baily castle, the Taurus Stronghold was made of stone and was a regular shaped casle.

Kale slowly made his way through the small village outside and stopped at the gates.


Barbod looked around glumly “My lord! If I may have your attention! You still haven’t signed these trade reports. After that you still have the tax returns! That essay on foreign policy, the trade agreement with the Royal Knights…”

“I forgot about this part of being king.” Growled Barbod to a chuckling Dordrot who leaned against a nearby pillar, gazed out at the window at the sweeping hills beyond.

Barbod stabbed some piece of parchment with his quill. The Crusaderish advisor looked at Barbod’s untidy scrawl disdainfully, then handed him the next form. Thankfully for him, one of his men appeared in the doorway. “Sire! There’s man here to see you.”

Barbod looked up hesitantly “not another bloody merchant!?”

“No sire, a man in what looks like Tauran Armour.” Replied the servant.

Barbod looked at him oddly “send him in!”

Dordrot looked Barbod questionly “Tauran armour?”

“It’s from the old days…All of the old King’s best warriors were called the Tauran Guard.” Replied Barbod gruffly, with a dreamy look in his eyes “most of em were murdererd in here when…” He seemed to turn purple for a second and crushed his quill into splinters.

The servant showed the advisor out and let a rather shady looking man into the room. To Barbod he indeed wore the platemail of the Tauran Guard even if it was black. No full suits were none to exist in all of Dametreos, the legendary chrome armour was believed lost to the ages. Kale’s was of the same craftmanship and bore the insignia but it was painted black and crimson. The man’s features were odd, he had the same rough features of all pure blooded Bulls. Jagged scars crisscrossed his face and he had a brown eye patch hiding a paticularly ugly scar. The thing that struck Barbod was his single bley coloured eye and seemingly ageless appearance. He seemed to be older then Barbod and younger at the same time.

“Prin-King Barbod?” Blurted out Kale.

“Aye, that be me” Replied Barbod “and this here be my good friend Dordrot” he gestered over in his direction.

Kale gave them both a solid handshake. “Name’s Kale, Kale of Bardelen.” Muttered Kale almost bitterly.

Both Barbod and Dordrot looked at him oddly but stilled pulled out a keg of beer regardless.

“I heard of a Kale of Bardelen once…” Replied

Barbod. “Weren’t you the one who slew your brother?”

Kale stared at him “he derserved it”

Barbod laughed “from what I heard of him I woulda killed ‘im myself. Bloody Bull, made himself look worse then a Bloody Falcon.”

“Aye” Said Kale through clenched teeth.

“So wotcha come down here for?” Asked Dordrot, handing him a mug of beer.

Kale thought for a moment “I was one of your father’s most trusted knights. I have no other goal in life other then wenching from town to town…”

Barbod laughed and gave him a slap one back. “Hahaha! I could use more experienced warriors. I don’t think there will be any problems for us fer many years but we could use a better army anyways. That Bloody Falcon may be dead but there may be another BloodVaine. Welcome aboard!”
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Wed Aug 24, 2005 11:05 pm

“I want you to find a man.” he said, “A Wolfpack. He goes by Morgue. Bring him here, but not against his will. Give him this if he is hesitant.”

Lord Void tossed two large purses to the first two Wyrms. He turned away. His instructions were over. The thirteen Wyrms turned about in unison and mounted their dragons. With powerful thrusts of hind legs and heavy beating of wings, the dragons with their riders rose into the air and soon were gone from sight.

Grid: G-11
Location: Grolling Fortress

Lord Void looked at the man standing a few feet away from him. The Wyrms had been quick. Two days had passed, and already they had returned. They had found Morgue.

“Take a seat.” said Lord Void, gesture politely like an Classic host addressing guests at a party.

Morgue shook his head.

“As you wish.” murmured Lord Void, uncorking a bottle of wine.

“Care for a drink?”

Again, Morgue shook his head.

“Very well.”

Lord Void poured himself a glassful and sipped, eyeing Morgue over the rim. A mysterious man, Morgue. The assassin was cloaked all in black. A knotted rag covered his head, and a cloth mask hid the lower part of his face from view. All were visible were two eyes: gray eyes that stared, never blinking. Morgue was more shadow than man. He was cold killer, like most assassins. But something set him apart from the other assassins in Dametreos. Some assassins hired themselves out, openly visiting kings and offering their services of death, just as a bard would offer his services of music. Infamous assassins like Faolan or Jago were like this. Other assassins employed magic, or used magical items, such as Cloak the shape-shifter.

But Morgue was not like this. He was a silent killer. He did not advertise. He did not make his presence known to the world. His methods of death were varied, and simple: a touch of nightshade in a nightcap, or a poisoned dart in the neck. Morgue avoided public displays of assassination. Knives were messy, swords messier. Strangulation left bruises. Concussion left dents. Arrows remained imbedded unless carefully removed by the assassin, and even then a tale-tail hole was left. Traps such as trip-ropes at the top of stairs were complicated and time-consuming to set up. There are many ways to kill a man: only a few are not messy. Even less are undetectable. Even some poisons can be traced. But not all. And those were the poisons Morgue used. Morgue had sent many people to his namesake.

Even though he did not advertise, he was known. He was an open secret. Not many could contact him, few could find him, none could capture him. But many knew of him. The Marquis d’Durlass had known of him, and the Falcon Secret Service had employed him on several occasions. Emperor Constantius knew of him. The Classics had tried and failed many times trying to capture or kill Morgue. The Blackcloak clan knew of him. The Grimtongue clan knew of him. The Houndstooth clan knew of him. The Tillshire clan knew of him. In fact, most, if not all, of the Wolfpack clans knew of Morgue the assassin, saboteur, spy and turncoat. For Morgue was a Wolfpack member. Some called him a villain, some a hero. But all feared him, and not even the Wolfpack could track Morgue.

And Lord Void knew of Morgue. And that is why Morgue now stood before the Dragon Master sorcerer.

“I have a job for you.” said Lord Void silkily, “If you so desire to accept it.”

Morgue did not react. He moved not a muscle. Lord Void leaned forward suddenly, setting aside his wineglass.

“Ajaxx Dragonsbane. He is the target. Kill him. And, if possible, kill his officers as well. Whatever method you desire.”

Lord Void reached beneath his desk and produced four full bags of coins.

“That’s everything, in advance, in addition to those two bags from the Wyrms.”

Morgue stood stock still. Lord Void shrugged.

“Count them if you wish. Each bag contains one hundred Dragonar kutegs. That’s six hundred kutegs total, or over one thousand in LEGOland cobbles, and fifteen hundred in Jellybean vens.”

Morgue remained unmoving a moment longer, then he glided forward, making no noise, and swept out of the room with the bags. Lord Void allowed himself a smile. Morgue would get the job done.
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Postby SavaTheAggie » Thu Aug 25, 2005 4:58 am

Grid: I-7
Location: Near the Black Falcon/Forestmen Border, Black Falcon territory

The rain splattered heavily upon him, running down his hood and cloak in streams. He watched a few drops fall softly off of the edge of his hood upon the small, lifeless body at his feet. He slowly knelt at Boeda's side, looking the boy over.

"You shouldn't have done that..." the Wanderer said softly. He slowly wrapped his fingers around the knife wedged in the boy's spine, freeing it with a sharp jerk.

Clutching the knife tightly, he stood once more, never taking his eyes off Boeda's motionless figure.

"You shouldn't have done that..." the Wanderer said a little louder, wringing his fingers about the knife's handle.

He slowly looked ahead of him, dragging his gaze across the rain-soaked ground, until his eyes stared into those of the larger of the bandits.

'You shouldn't have done that...' the wanderer cried out in a growl, throwing the knife into the larger bandit's eye socket. The large man fell backward slowly, landing with a wet thud. The other two men charged the Wanderer enraged.

The Wanderer quickly unshiethed his sword, ducking under the closer, thin man's knife and severing the foot of the taller. The wounded man fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

No. There would be no mercy this night. They showed none to Boeda. He hadn't done anything to deserve a knife in the back. It was a senseless act of violence, much like the violence he was about to unleash upon the men before him.

The thin bandit's knife flew through the air quickly, but was caught before it reached its' intended target. The Wanderer looked at the knife blade in his hand, which had cut through the glove and into his flesh. His blood quickly flowed down the knife's blade, mingling with the rainwater and dripping onto the ground.

A hand grabbed hold of the Wanderer's ankle, holding him in one place. The large bandit was barely conscious, but had enough strength left in him to pin the Wanderer's leg steady where it was. He quickly sweeped his sword down with a flourish, cutting the hand on his leg from its' master, and spinning slightly, impaled the thin bandit through the gut. Another slash sent the knife in the Wanderer's hand through the impaled man's neck.

Removing his sword from the dieing man's belly, the Wanderer walked calmly to the one footed bandit. The man had began to scramble away from the fight, doing his best to navigate through the wet mud and rain so wounded. The Wanderer quickly stapped his sword through the man's thigh and into the ground beneath him, pinning him like an insect ready to be dissected. The bandit screamed in pain, grasping the blade frantically to remove it.

Without a word, the Wanderer knelt onto the thin bandit's back, pressing his knee hard into him. With a quick twist, the Wanderer broke the man's neck, his body falling limp onto the ground. Retrieving his sword, the cloaked man began wrapping a piece of cloth around his wounded hand.

A whisper soft sound caught his ear, barely audible over the rain and wind. The Wanderer glanced back over to Boeda, who was now looking at him, gasping for air. The Wanderer dashed over to the boy, kneeling at his side.


"Don't speak, Boeda, save your strength," the Wanderer said, biting his lip.

"I... I'm sorry I couldn't... go with you..."

"Me too..." the old man was fighting tears. He softly wiped water off of Boeda's face, shielding the boy from the rain with his body.

"You'll... " Boeda gasped for air, fighting his weak body to continue, "you'll find him... you'll make things right again... I... I know it..."

"I will." The Wanderer looked down at his young companion, trying to smile. The two had become rather close over the last month, he had even started to teach Boeda how to use a sword. They had become almost like father and son, or rather, grandfather and grandson.

"C... Cu..." Boeda fought for his last few breaths, desperately trying to speak. With a final gasp, the boy went limp in the old man's arms. A soft motion of his hand pushed the boy's eyelids closed.

"Rest well, Boeda..." the Wanderer said softly, cradling him.


On the Black Falcon Plains, near the Forestmen territory, lies a simple grave by the roadside; a pile of stones and a sword sheathed into the ground at one end. In time, the ground will reclaim the stones, the sword will rust away, and the simple grave by the roadside will have been forgotten. But in the heart of one lonely wanderer, the memory of that simple grave will never fade.

The footprints lead away from the grave, eastward, pushing onward on their quest. A good friend had been left behind, but the memory of just what he was fighting for had been reborn.

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Set a man on fire and he'll be warm for the rest of his life.
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Postby Sir Dillon » Thu Aug 25, 2005 7:38 pm

Grid: K-10
Location: LEGOland plains

Kor’s arm was completely numb, and he looked down at it to make sure it was still there. He winced in pain as he looked at the blood all over his body. Fortunately, most of it was the dark greenish blood of the orc riders.

Glancing at the around at the hewn bodies around him- none of which were humans –he cautiously made his way to where Hidemitsu and his brother were standing.
“What was that?” He asked quietly, half to himself.

Hidemitsu didn’t answer, but stared blankly into the clearing mist. Kor followed his gaze, but, seeing nothing, looked at the Knights off a bit to his left, “Eastern Knight Kingdomers” Kor decided, looking at the colorful armor some of them were wearing. There were also another man who didn’t look like a Knight Kingdomer, but he wasn’t sure.

“Well” Kor thought, “I guess I’ll just wait to see what happens next…”
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Postby Robin Hood » Fri Aug 26, 2005 7:33 pm

Grid: G-14
Location: Mon Caliar Port (In the Black Knights)

The sea. It stretched out for miles toward the horizon. The islands that were out there were too far away to be seen. All that was visible was a great mass of rolling blue.

"I must say, I am glad to see it." Commented Aiden, as he and Kae-Os walked toward the port. "I was starting to go mad with the boring trip.”

And boring it had been. Apart from a border dispute, two robber attacks, and several bar fights, nothing had happened on their journey.

Upon arriving at the docks, Aiden and Kae-Os sought out the port master.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" asked the old, portly man sitting at desk inside a small building. The sign above the building had said "Port Master", though Aiden had his doubts on whether or not the fellow would be any help.

"We need passage to the Ninja island. Are there any ships heading there?"

"Just a minute." Muttered the old man, who started turning pages in a huge record book. After a few minutes he said, "Only one, the Hard Luck. But you might have a hard time getting passage. It says that the captain, one Bob McKaffy, isn't the type who lets people on easily."

"Thanks for your help," said Kae-Os and the two left.

They soon found the Hard Luck and her captain, who was rather hard to miss. He was a tall, beefy man with who bore a large resemblance to a barrel. He was obviously a Black Knight by his speech, which was extremely loud.

"O! Robins! Get your lazy bottom over here and start loading these crates, we ship off in an hour." Boomed the captain. He turned and saw Aiden and Kae-Os approaching him. "And what might I be able to do for you gentlemen?"

"Were looking for a passage to the ninja isle. I am Aiden and my friend here is Kae-Os." Answered Aiden.

"Welcome. I’m captain McKaffy." And he shook both hands in a grip that left Aiden's hand tingling. Kae-Os though, showed no sign of pain.

"Passage ya say?" continued the captain. "Well it so happens that you’re in luck. I happen to be going to the isle myself and would be glad to take on two passengers. And only for a thousand gold coins apiece."

"A thousand!!" Cried Aiden. "Fifty more like it. Perhaps a hundred, but a thousand. You must be joking. That’s the most ridiculous price I have ever heard. I bet lots of other ships here would let us go on for twenty."

"Perhaps," replied McKaffy. "But none of them are going to the ninja isle. For that matter, I am the only regular person that goes there from this here port. A thousand apiece."

"Forget it." Said Aiden and he and Kae-Os walked away.

Safely from earshot of the now shouting captain, Aiden turned to his companion. "What say? Shall we wait for another ship or invite ourselves aboard this one?"

"This one," replied the elf. "You heard the captain. It could be months before another boat headed there appears."

"Then lets go." Smirked Aiden.

Two hours later, the Hard Luck sailed away from the port, carrying two rather heavy barrels.
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Postby Lord_Of_The_LEGO » Fri Aug 26, 2005 10:55 pm

Grid: F-11
Location: Gulaan

After the failed magical attack by Lord Void, Ajaxx allowed the Dragonsbane Brigade to celebrate. Casks were opened, boars were roasted and the women of Gulaan offered themselves willingly to the recruits. But Ajaxx did not have any of it. He had claimed one of the better-built houses as his headquarters, and there he holed himself up, pouring over maps, his only indulgence a mug of beer. By the light of sallow-dripping candles, Ajaxx plotted and planned. Ajaxx was more versed in the ways of writing, but his inkwell remained corked. He wrote nothing out. He thought everything out in his head, every detail. Then, when there was nothing more to plan, Ajaxx drank the last of his beer and blew out the candles. He got into bed and slept.

The next morning, Ajaxx was up early, noisily rousing his drunken brigade. He ordered them into the muddy creek to wash, and then gave each man a mug of coffee, he standard cure for hangovers. By noon, he had gotten his brigade sober, and while they drilled outside, he had a council with his officers. They were crowded into the small quarters, clustering around a map detailing the mainland Dragonar empire.

“Today be a day of impending battles.” stated Ajaxx

He sharply tapped a city, located north of Gulaan but still on the Dragonar panhandle.

“That be Ttrank, a small mining town, smaller and dirtier than Gulaan. We take that first, it be only eight or ten miles north. Then there be Madadelillon.”

The officers, Japheth and Dolter among them, murmured. Madadelillon was a grand Dragon Master city, “surprisingly majestic, almost like a Classic city” said one visiting dignitary. It certainly clashed with the stereotypical image that “Dragon Master city” conjured up. It was a high-walled city, with gardens and pillars and rich residents. There was good reason this town wasn’t like other Dragon Master cities: it hadn’t been built by Dragon Masters. Madadelillon had originally been a Royal Knight city before the Dragoon Wars of 1901. It was captured by the Dragon Masters, almost undamaged, and so it began a trophy of Dragonar.

“We be attacking Madadelillon?” asked Dolter, surprised.

Ajaxx nodded.

“Aye. Madadelillon be a useless town strategically, but it be a powerful symbol. When Void looses Madadelillon, the rest of Dametreos will begin to watch this conflict with interest. The Brigade will attack Madadelillon as soon as Ttrank is secured. Two attacks in a day.”

The officers murmured. That would be tough to do, even for the Brigade.

“I know it be tough.” said Ajaxx, “But is must be done. Captain Krochess.”

Captain Krochess stiffened.

“Ye will stay here, in Gulaan, with your division. Gulaan be our first toehold, we cannot loose it.”

Krochess nodded sharply.

“Aye, sir.”

Ajaxx looked around at his officers.

“That be all. Prepare the Brigade for departure!”

EDIT: grid location fixed
Last edited by Lord_Of_The_LEGO on Mon Aug 29, 2005 11:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby venvorskar » Sat Aug 27, 2005 11:58 pm

Midark and Darkold had finally finished preparations for their once-in-a-lifetime journey to see a dragon. They set off from Darkold's hut at noon.

"Well, what do you think Midark?" said Darkold, "Finally off to see a dragon! I can hardly believe it!

"Yes," said Midark, I've been looking forward to this for a long time."

"I wonder what they'll look like?" said Darkold.

"Probably they will be fifty feet high, with heads as big as clouds!" said Midark in awe.

(You can pardon them this error in size- they were excited)

They walked until dusk, and set up camp for the night. Darkold set up a fire, as Midark unloaded provisions. They ate a quiet dinner, each one of them imagining what a dragon would look like. After they had supped, they unrolled their sleeping blankets, and dreamed of dragons. Darkold had a particularly strange dream: He saw a dragon flying through the clouds, this lasted for a long time, then the dragon flew slowly to where he was. He did not know where he was; only that he was. He saw the dragon come closer, strangely, he was not afraid; it was so close he could see its eyes, they were green. Suddenly, he had a disturbing suspicion that he had seen those eyes before, but he could not remember when. The sky turned black, and clouds covered the heavens, and he could see thunder and lightning. Then, the thunder faded and the lightning stopped, and all the clouds disappeared. But they had disappeared to bring blackness, total blackness; except for the eyes of the dragon. They still shone like green embers of a fire that won’t go out. He wanted them to stop, and for light to return, but he only saw the eyes getting closer, and closer; and he knew now where he had seen those eyes. The wizard! He remembered the night in the forest, all in vivid detail, but this was worse; now he could not look away, the eyes held him. And when those eyes filled his world he remembered no more.

“Get up, get up!” he heard Midark saying to him. “If we don’t start now it’ll take us ages to get there.” Midark said good naturedly. (Darkold had forgotten his dream)

They had a short breakfast, and continued on there way. At about ten, they saw some travelers on the edge of the forest.

“Hello Friends!” Midark called out to them.
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Postby TheOrk » Sun Aug 28, 2005 4:12 pm

L-12 Castle Dracul Area

The four minifigs trudged wearily onward. They had found one of their horses, but that one was scared off by another drazard attack. If it wasn’t that then maybe perhaps it was the attack of the hill orcs, the giant spiders or blood wolves.

“Why did I have to sign up for this?” Growled Theodore as they climbed over a rocky outcrop.

“Don’t ask me!” Laughed Valric “you wanted to come!” By now the whole party had found Valric’s crazed optimism alittle annoying.

“Simply amazing, I knew you lot would attract danger! I’ve already started on a ballad. It just needs a name and a good ending, then I’ll be famous!” Laughed Rodney as he scrambled up to the top of the hill.

“Yeah…” Grunted Theodore, nursing his battered right arm and recently added sprained knee.

“Akk!” Jother slipped clumsily over the rocks, his once rich looking robes in tatters. Sighing Valric bent down a scooped him up like a sack of potatoes

“Thanks but I didn’t need…” Begin Jother

“Forget it” Said Valric, scanning the horizon. “It’s not far to Castle Dracul. Another day or two at most.”

“About time.” Began Theodore “If this Pythos chap is the one who unleashed that monster on my men back in Arral, I’ll look forward to paying him back.”

“Aye” Grunted Valric, a dangerous look in his eye.

“Hello Friends!” Midark called out to them.

The four looked up to see to minifigs in the Fright Knight garb and armed to the teeth come toward them. One was unarmed and had no armour. The other wore a heaby suit of mail and had a broadsword crossbow, longbow and to quivers strung across his back. It seemed odd that people native to the Batlands would travel through the wilderness in such a small group, or the fact they hailed them as friends.

The two groups met eachother in a wood shrouded clearing. The two seemed very friendly, seeing as this was as a good time as any, they sat down to lunch. The two called themselves Darkold and Midark. They seemed friendly enough. Darkold unearthed a flask of beer, giving him a good page in Valric’s book.

The two simply said they wanted they wanted to see a dragon before they die. Not content to simply eat iron rations, the two walked off into the woods and less then ten minutes later came back with a full deer.

When Valric asked how they got that, the two replied they lived in the Batlands long enough to know how to catch any game.(Which was already very little) The two were not under the dominion of Count Dracul, they came from the Fright Forest, which was Count Durak’s land.

“So where ya headed?” Asked Valric while devouring a whole leg.

“We’re not sure.” Replied Midark. “We know there are dragons roaming the Batlands.”

“Unless you try to find a tame dragon, your not going to survive long.” Said Valric now starting on another leg.

“How so?” Asked Darkold.

“There are packs of them bloody drazards, giant spiders and bloody blood wolves everywhere.” Growled Theodore.

“Don’t forget the hill orcs” Laughed Rodney who was working on his ballad. “You may find the wild dragons in the deepest hills, but so the songs go, they’re infested with ghosts as well.”

“Thanks for making our day.” Laughed Darkold. “So where are you four headed? It’s not often people come into here of their own free will”

The mood of the conversation seemed to go downward from that point. “Well to put things simply” started Valric “I’m going to kill an evil wizard who’s Megablocks bent on conqering Dametreos and then the entire world. Theodore here is coming along for the ride. Rodney wants to write a ballad about this and I’m not quite sure what Jother is here for.”

“Just thought you could use a magician to help you heheheh…” he mumbled uneasily.

“Well now ain’t that something.” Whistled Darkold.

“Will you lot be seeing a dragon on the way?” Asked Midark.

“From what I understand, Count Belzzar has two dragons, being a Batlord he probley has more then that.” Replied Valric.

Darkold and Midark said something to eachother. Several minute later the two turned to the four. “Well if your going to Castle Dracul, you’ll need two more pairs of hands.”

“Are you sure? Theres a good chance half of us or more will die” Said Valric blankly.

“No, it’s decided. This is the best lead we have to find a dragon.” Came Midark.

Less then twenty minutes later the six companions made their way to Castle Dracul.
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