Classic Castle Roleplay: October 2005

[TheOrk]

K-14 Kinopokar

Catch you later then!” Yelled Gyrioss.
“See ya later then bro!” He shouted back.

Pyriuss looked around uncertainly, then ran after the three knights. A thousand thoughts flashed through his head. Those were the bodyguards of the shadow council sent to fetch him. They must have something special planned for him. A promotion or an exexcution it would still be an honor for anyone of them to be summoned.

The three Rub n’ Buff clad knights shoved their way past several laundry carrying slaves and proceeded down a long steep staircase. Pyriuss followed them in utter silence. Even if he tried to make conversation, they would most likely ignore him. That was if he tried to make conversation, he was almost into a jog to keep up with them.

They journeyed deeper and deeper into the bowels of Kinopokar. In this area, the tunnels were made out of stone, in the floor, the ceiling and in the walls. At last the three stopped before an iron gate, flanked by another two soldiers. One gave a crisp solute to the lead knight and let them pass.

This next chamber was very dark and dank. Pyriuss shivered at the sudden steep drop in temperature. Two of the knights stood at attention on his flanks. The lead one walked into the shadows. After a moment of silence, he returned.
“Go inside.” He muttered as walked passed.

Pyriuss gulped and walked into the shadowy doorway. He suddenly emerged into a brightly lit hall. It was very plain, it only held as much luxurious decoration as there is to be found in any Dragon Master or Bull hall. This one was clearly used for war.

Half the walls were covered in myriad display of weapons of all shapes and sizes. Pyriuss had never seen three quarters of those weapons before. Of the few tables, each were covered in maps and other important documents showing rosters and reports. In one corner, on a round table, rested a strange dark blue orb. Pyriuss was mesmerized by it.

“Don’t look to deeply into it, many foolish minifigs have lost their minds to it’s depths.”

Pyriuss whirled around to see a black garbed man standing over a crackling fire pit. The man was clad in black and crimson robes, with a hood hiding his face. On his chest was a medallion bearing the sign of the scorpion.

Pyriuss gasped as he recognised the man as the Vindicator. Lord Vladek was the militaristic leader of the Shadow Council. Th vindicator was the spiritual leader and his words carried more weight then any of the other Shadow Lords, including Vladek.

“My lord…” He gave a weak bow.

“You know not why you are summoned? Pyriuss son Kyrious.” He said in a thin rasping, all knowing voice.

“No my lord…”

“Of course. But you do know of the events concerning the infidel Vermicus?” The Vindicator whispered the name with such malice and hatred, that Pyriuss stepped back..

“Yes, of course my lord…”

“You know that are numbers dwindle, many of our greatest warriors have been seduced by him and many more of our greatest warriors have fallen into the shadow over this. We lost too many good warriors in claiming the staff from Solitaire. We cannot afford such casualties in dealing with this nuisance while fighting the Morcian scum at the same time.”

Pyriuss was feeling very uncomfortable in the Vindicator’s presence. Many of the things in the Shadow Cult made him uncomfortable.

“The draws near for when we shall strike. The fool Vermicus hopes to crush the lands in swing of the hammer. Orcs have their uses but they are not a war winning weapon. We are the spawn of the shadow itself! This is not a war to be fought in the fields, but in the shadows. The fool rebuilds his fortress in the ruin of the Ankoria. Soon the knife will come down and we will be rid of this scum, once and for all!”
Pyriuss nodded, not daring to anger the Vindicator.

“You Pyriuss are such a minifig as the Shadow Cult requires in this time of strife. I have looked in yon orb” He gestured to the dark blue orb “and have seen part of what is to come. Your time to prove your worth to the council will soon be at hand.”

Sweat trickled down Pyriuss’s forehead. “Me sir?”

“Yes. I know not how at this moment in time, but I forsee great ruin will be upon us otherwise. Your mission will be perilous of course, but the shadow clerics shall bless you before you depart.”

“What mission sir? What about my brother? Can’t he come too, we always fight together, we’re unbeatable together.”

The Vindicator snickered “He is not of importance to us. I did not see your twin doing anything productive to our cause in the near future. You on the other hand…”

Pyriuss’s mind whirled, he was going somewhere, without Gyrioss? He didn’t think he could stomach being in the presence of all these creepy Shadow Knights without his brother. The only reason he stayed here was because the Shadow Cult protected the two, they raised them and clothed them. They taught them how to fight, how to make their way in the world.

“Take this” The Vindicator handed the young knight sealed parchment stamped with the sign of the scorpion. Read that once you set out, report to the shadow clerics at the midnight for your blessing.” With that he turned away.

“Leave.”

That was not a request, it was an order. Pyriuss took the parchment and ran out of there as fast as he could.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Dale looked at Alice. Her eyes were soft. She leaned forward and kissed him. Then she stood, and walked away. Dale sat there. Then he began to hum his scales.

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington

Fell Isle’s slippery grip on the last strains of summer were quickly slipping away. The last of the harvest was brought in. It had been a good year. After what was needed was packed, canned, smoked and stored, the excess goods were packed upon wagons and pack animals.

“Where are we going?” Dale asked Orla MacDougal as he helped he her heft a bundle of dried jerky into Old Tom’s newly-repaired wagon.

“North, to Josstshire. A trade fair is held there even year from 24th to the 27th.”

Dale’s ears pricked up at the name of the city.

“Isn’t that the Provincial Capital?”

Orla shook her head, biting her tongue as she roughly retied a fraying knot.

“No. You’re thinking of Swordbranch, farther to the north and the biggest Dark Forest city on Fell Isle. Josstshire is one of five county seats. It’s some leagues north and east. T’would be a two day’s walk from here, but with this gang…it’ll prob’ly be double.”

“Oh.” Dale wrinkled his brow.

“But one can…register to become a citizen there, in Josstshire?”

“’Course.” said Orla.

Dale hoped she wouldn’t ask questions, and she didn’t. When they finished loading the jerky, Orla went off to help her father with cases of delicate glass. Dale nearly bumped into Alice. He was surprised.

“You’re coming too?”

She smiled.

“Of course. Not all herbs needed for healing can be found locally. Every year, Hemmerington undergoes the same exodus. This fair is really our last contact with the outside world until spring. We get heavy snows here in Hemmerington."

Dale shivered. Alice laughed.

“Don’t worry, whiling we’re there, we’ll get you some proper winter clothes.”


“Good.”

An hour later, most of Hemmerington’s residents had mobilized, heading north toward trade and commerce.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

"I can shepherd them myself, thank you," said Bjarn. "I still want to know why they're up here, now that I know why they managed to misplace the highway."

Grid: M-8
Location: Forestman lands

Hans went his customary red as Bjarn allowed himself a final chuckle.

“Come!” he said, gesturing, “You can tell me as we walk.”

“I’ll see you back at Drullen Bell in an hour.” said Elacil, then he was gone, melted away into the woods.

“So, you three,” said Bjarn, “What brings you to Forestmen lands?”

Hans, Adrian and Cate glanced at one another. They had no intention of concealing their quest from Bjarn, it was just hard to decide how to begin.

“Well…” said Hans, “This sounds dumb, but we’re looking for a brick.”

Bjarn raised his eyebrows.

“A brick?”

“Yeah,” said Hans, speaking fast now, “The One Brick To Rule Them All. It was my ancestor’s, given to him by the Ikrosians!”

“Ikrosians?” Bjarn’s brow furrowed angrily.

“This happened nine hundred years ago.” Adrian cut in hastily, “Hans’ ancestor, Earl Nathaniel of Wells, was giving this One Brick To Rule Them All as a sort of ‘peace offering’.”

“Nathaniel, Earl of Wells…” Bjarn paused, then turned to Hans, “Do you mean the Lord Of The LEGO is your ancestor?”

Hans stumbled over a root.

“No.” he said, “Adrian and I did research. The guy who wrote The Lord Of The LEGO, J. R. R. Nathaniel, is not the same guy as Nathaniel, Earl of Wells.”

Bjarn chuckled.

“Ah, here’s your stray highway.” he said.

The trio gratefully began to walk upon the highway, with Bjarn ahead and Anardan behind. Bjarn returned to the previous subject.

“If you had dug a little deeper,” he said, “You would have found out some interesting facts. For instance: though Nathaniel, Earl of Wells and J. R. R. Nathaniel are not the same person, they are related.”

Hans, Adrian and Cate looked up.

“Related?” repeated Cate.

Bjarn nodded.

“Aye. J. R. R. Nathaniel was Earl Nathaniel’s grandson.”

The trio stared.

“How’d you know all this?” demanded Adrian.

Bjarn snorted.

“Become a dusty old scholar, I have, ever since the end of the Lost Stars adventure. When I don’t manage matters of state, I write. And when I don’t write, I read. Fascinating stuff.”

“Drullen Bell has a good library, then?” asked Adrian eagerly.

Bjarn winked.

“It would be bordering on bragging to say that it’s the best of the Forestdwellers, but I do think it is true.”

“Neat.” said Hans, “I just never though that…ah…”

He trailed off, embarrassed.

“That Forestmen would be in possession of such a collection?” finished Bjarn, amused, “We’re not all tree huggers, Hans, though the rest of Dametreos might think so.”

Cate giggled, then gasped.

“Oh, wow!”

Hans and Adrian and Cate stopped and stared. They had arrived at the capital city of Delvarden Gard.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Norbrik blinked for a moment. Pillage? Perhaps the second best thing in Norbrik’s life besides hunting sea serpents. “I’d thought you’d never ask!” He laughed.

Grid: E-10
Location: Off the Royal Knight coast

The small Viking fleet was was floating just off the Royal Knight coast: five ships total. Capiaining one was Thedrikforge. Norbrik was at the helm of another. Together they led the three other ships. A steady drumbeat pounded, a monotonus tune unwaveringly rowed to. Thump, thump, thump...

"Row, men, row!" bellowed Thedrikforge, "The shore not be far!"

The drumbeat quickened it's pace, as did the rowers. Like serpents, the five longships slid over the ocean waters. All at once they had beached themselves, and snarling Vikings were leaping fore and aft, vicious weapons glinting.

The Royal Knights were about to be pillaged.

[Formendacil]

Grid: K-12
Location: The LEGOland/Fright Knight border, on the edge of Dracul province...

"The technical lingo sounds a lot better-planned than 'run like heck'" said Arthur. "Which, by the way, we should probably get started on."

Together, Arthur and Jayko spurred their horses into action, galloping shamelessly away from the battlefield, on an angle away from the Fright Knight's left, in the direction of the bluff from which the attack had first come.

At the top of the bluff was the small copse of trees from which Captain Drazzuil and his men had surveyed the Cadets on their approach. As they galloped around the Fright Knights, Jayko and Arthur, mostly ignored, came upon the ridge from a more sloped angle. Currently, it appeared that they had been unnoticed by the Fright Knights, being the edge of chaos that had erupted as the Fright Knights tried to cut off and capture, kill, or maim the Cadets.

"Up there!" said Jayko. "We'll hide there until it passes over."

"Right," nodded Arthur. They turned their steeds up the slope, and were soon in the thicket. The two of them dismounted, and tied their reins to one of the trees.

"I suppose the only thing to do now is sit tight and wait for those bloody Fright Knights to crawl back into whatever megablox hole they crawled out of," said Arthur. Ahead of them, there was a rustling in the trees.

"Who's there?" called Jayko, drawing his sword. Arthur also unsheathed his blade. They pressed onwards, and came upon the gaunt figure of the Illusionist.

"Sepulcrix!" said the Illusionist in a rasp, pointing his hands abruptly at them, fingers splayed. From behind him, a dozen undead skeletons materialised out of the trees, and began to advance on the Cadets.

Instead of fleeing, Jayko and Arthur dropped their visors, and launched themselves at the skeletons.

And promptly found themselves slicing right through thin air, the skeletons misting around where they had sliced through.

"Blimey!" said Arthur, "these aren't anything more than smoke and mirrors- except without the smoke and mirrors part."

"Okay, Frighty!" said Jayko, menacing pointing his sword at the Illusionist. "Give it up! If you had anything better up your sleave, you'd have played it by now."

"I say," said Arthur lightly from behind him, "this is really the most interesting view on things." Jayko glanced, and saw that Arthur was standing right in the same space as one of the skeltons, doing his best to mimic its actions.

"What do you want?" asked the Illusionist, his eyes red, but otherwise appearing in control. Jayko glanced at Arthur.

"An army of Cavaliers!" said Arthur. "And a bloody big one! Let's give those Fright Knights a taste of their own medicine."

Reluctantly, the Illusionist pointed his widespread hands at the plain, and whispered, "legionnes". Immediately, what appeared to be an army of Cavaliers, a thousand strong, appeared in the distance. It came closer, throwing up illusionary dust, apparently galloping full tilt. The Fright Knights quickly stopped chasing the single members of the Cadet regiment to form up defensively.

"You're pretty skilled at this, aren't you, old boy," nodded Arthur approvingly.

"Good," said Jayko. "Now present an illusion of me ordering all the lone Cadets to regroup behind the Cavalier lines. Have the Cavaliers slow and split into five forces."

"Falconensis," said the Illusionist, and it was as Jayko had commanded. The Cadets began to withdraw, and regroup behind the illusionary host, the illusionary Jayko leading.

"Have the five Cavalier forces encircle the Fright Knights, and prepare to engage," said Jayko. "Meanwhile, have me order all my men to return, post-haste to Captain-Major Battista's fort. Then have my illusion turn about and join the Cavaliers."

"Wouldn't that be strange for you?" asked Arthur.

"Not as strange as being with them one minute on their way back, and then gone the next," said Jayko.

"Good point," nodded Arthur.

Meanwhile, below them, the fake Cavaliers were almost within striking range of the Fright Knights. There was only a minute or two left. The Cadets were already galloping, fullspeed, towards the Classic border.

"Okay," said Jayko, before the Fright Knights had engaged. "Drop the illusion, but spell out in really big letters 'ha-ha-ha'."

The Illusionist did. "Insipius!.

Meanwhile, on the battlefield, Captain Drazzuil reacted in shock as the Cavalier host disappeared and the giant "ha-ha-ha" appeared in the sky. In the distance, he saw the Cadets riding too fast to catch out of his range. He looked darkly up at the bluff.

"Gather all wounded Cadets that didn't escape," ordered Drazzuil to his officers. "I will be taking second company up to check on the Illusionist."

[Formendacil]

Grid: C-3
Location: Approaching Fendor's Field, in the Lion Island interior

"I will," said Thomas, with a grin. "And then I'll tell about the time YOU went poaching Forestman elk, and ended up in the Drullen Bell gaol. Gonderin gave me the full story."

Sir Dractor scowled darkly for a moment, but lightened up as Thomas gave a spirited and slightly reworked version of his two most famous Dametreosian misdemeanours.

Two days later, they arrived in the area of Fendor's Field. It was a small area of the dark interior forest, nestled right at the foot of the Crags, where years of inhabitants had thinned out the forest, and scattered crops and pastures in small clearings among the trees. Fendor's Field itself sat in the largest of the clearings, right under Emberlain Castle, where Baron Edmond Tendarl ruled.

As they made their way out of the forest, and into the village, they noticed that it was much-burned, and that it's inhabitants seemed to have deserted it. Not a sound of man, woman, or child, or of domesticated beast was to be heard.

"So the dragon has struck," said Sir Yves, his jaw set grimly. "And recently, too, from the looks of things."

"Where is everybody?" said Thomas. "Surely the dragon didn't kill ALL of them!"

"No, boy," came a voice from one of the ruined houses, "he didn't. But they had the good sense to evacuate to Emberlain Castle. Pretty much everybody in the barony who didn't flee or die is there. Welcome back, Sir Yves."

"Do I know you?" asked Sir Yves, brow furrowing.

"William Jorgenson," said the man. "One of the outlaws, as they like to call us. We've sort of moved into the area to act as scouts for the Baron, since he can't get men to patrol outside the Castle. Too scared."

"That's very noble of you," said Sir Yves.

"Hey, the dragon's as dangerous to us as he is to you," said William. "And we've no desire to see our more law-abiding neighbours and relatives hurt. Speaking of them, you'd best get on up to the Castle. 'Twill do them good to see you back- with aid. I'm assuming that these two good fellows are aid."

"Aye," said Sir Yves. "Sir Dractor here bears the blade Dragonwrath, which is said to be magically fatal to dragons. The younger one is Thomas Valt, his squire."

"Pleased to meet your lordships, I'm sure," said William. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back on patrol. They say the dragon was seen heading this way. Young Hanson up on the mount caught sight of him. If I see the birds a-heading this way, I'll know he's moving in."

William Jorgenson headed away, back through the house and into the trees, silent as a Forestman, while Sir Yves and his guests continued up to Emberlain Castle. As they drew nearer, they noticed that the stone of the Castle was charred black in places.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

An hour later, most of Hemmerington’s residents had mobilized, heading north toward trade and commerce.

Grid: Q-10
Location: Josstshire

After Dale had gotten used to the peaceful quiet of Hemmerington, the bustling madhouse that was Josstshire was a horrible shock. Josstshire was a large, noisy, smelly town filled with cramped tudor-style buildings and narrow cobblestone streets. Greasy smoke smeared the crystal blue sky and a witch's brew of odor's assaulted Dale's senses.

He glanced at Alice. She nodded grimly.

"Josstshire wasn't always like this. It was once a small little hamlet like Hemmerington, but then something happened to it."

"What?"

"Progress." sighed Alice, "May Hemmerington be spared from such a fate."

Slowly the residents of Hemmerington dispersed, mixing like oil and water among the other persons. McGregor and the other farmers drove their wares to the city's marketplace, while artisans such as the MacDougals began going shop to shop, peddling. Alice soon left Dale to inspect herbalist goods. Feeling out of place and very nervous, Dale pushed his way through the crowd aimlessly. He had no idea where the County Office was and didn't dare ask an unfamiliar face. Dale continued his wandering in this manner until early afternoon. Then he spotted someone he did not expect.

"Felix?"

The flamboyant bard turned about. He grinned.

"Dale!"

"What are you doing here, Felix?" asked Dale, "I thought you said you liked to keep to yourself."

"I do," said Felix, "But I need some good strings for my instruments. Deer gut is good, and I can get that in Hemmerington, but it's a messy process to prepare, and I admittedly am the squeamish type."

Dale laughed. He waited until Felix had bought all he needed, then asked, "Felix?"

"Yes?"

"Where is...uh...the County Office?"

Felix looked up.

"Ah." he said with a twinkle in his eyes, "I'll show you."

Felix led Dale down a confusing passage of streets until they came upon a two-story building constructed of crumbling stone. The lobby of the building was dark. A musty carpet lay on the for and wall sconces full of flame sputtered and cast weird shadows. A hugely obese woman with a triple chin sat at the lone table in the room. She had hair on her upper lip and she wore immense, half-inch-think spectacles, giving her a sluggish, bug-like appearance. A brass plaque bore the name "Roz."

"How can I help you?" she croaked. Her voice was a rasp.

"I...would like to apply for citizenship."

"Sit." Roz commanded.

Dale sat. Roz reached behind her, where stacks of official-looking papers lay and grabbed one with a bloated hand. She slapped it upon the table and grasped a quill.

"Name?"

"Dale."

Roz squinted in annoyance.

"Full name?"

"Dale Antonio Barrett."

"Age?"

"Twenty-one."

"Height?"

"Five feet, five inches."

"Hair color?"

"Black."

"Eye color?"

"Blue?"

"Father?"

"Arvin Swain Barrett."

"Mother?"

"Johanna Karla Barrett."

"Siblings?"

"None."

"Faction of birth?"

"Western Knight's Kingdom."

"Current faction?"

"Western Knight's Kingdom."

"Have you ever engaged in illegal or immoral activities as defined by Dark Forest law?"

"No."

"Have you ever engaged in illegal or immoral activities as defined by the laws of other factions?"

"No."

"Have you ever served in any military service?"

"No."

"Do you have any inhibiting medical conditions?"

"No."

There were no more questions. Roz continued to scribble while Dale sat nervously. Then she shoved the paper and quill toward him.

"Sign here, here and here."

Dale did so.

"You are now a citizen of the Kingdom of the Dark Forest." pronounced Roz dully, "Congratulations."

Then she began to scribble on something else. Dale slowly stood and walked outside, where Felix was waiting.

"Well?" asked Felix.

"I'm one of you." said Dale slowly.

Felix grinned.

"Welcome to the club!"

"It was so easy." said Dale.

"It always is. C'mon, this calls for some ale!"

And with a chuckle, Felix threw an arm around Dale and led him to the nearest pub.

[Sir Dillon]

J-12
Fright Knight prison.

Grabbing his spear that was leaning against the wall, he hopped up and strode to the doorway and looked in. Seeing no one, he shrugged and went back to his papers.

Donall snickered quietly to himself. Moving out of the shadows he had been standing in, he swiftly and silently made his way down the corridor. As he walked he looked into each cell, every one was empty. Except one.

"That's him" he thought, silently drawing one of his swords. He set it against the bolt that held in one of the hinges, and, with a quick turn of the wrists, wrenched it off. It clattered on the stone floor with a loud clank. He cringed, looking over his shoulder, the guard couldn't have not heard that, and would be down in a few seconds.
He quickly set his blade against the hinge, and did the same thing as before, only this time, with out any hinges, the door collapsed, revealing a very shocked Cynan.

"Follow me" Donall said hastily.

Turning around, Donall faced the guard, who was running towards them quickly, but before the guard had time to stop, Donall rushed at him, cut off the hand that was holing the spear, and slammed the butt of his sword into the guards face, knocking him unconscious.

Cynan stared at him blankly. "How's you do that? With the door?" he asked.

"We need to go... Now!" Donall hissed. "I'll answer your questions later."

Cynan submitted to the Donall's wishes, and followed the cloaked figure out of the prison and into the empty streets.

"Where are we going? And why?" Cynan panted as he followed along.

"I'll answer questions later." Donall growled. And they ran on.

[Formendacil]

Grid: K-12
Location: The LEGOland/Fright Knight border, on the edge of Dracul province...

"Gather all wounded Cadets that didn't escape," ordered Drazzuil to his officers. "I will be taking second company up to check on the Illusionist."

Meanwhile, up on the bluff, Jayko and Arthur had noticed Drazzuil's company headed their way.

"Umm, Jayko, mate," said Arthur. "I be thinking it might be a good time to run like mad out of here."

"I'm thinking you're right," said Jayko. "What should we do about this fellow?" He pointed at the Illusionist.

"Leave him," said Arthur. "He's harmless, and we don't want to be carrying any dead weight with us anyway."

In agreement, they mounted their steeds, and galloped down the rear of the bluff, and then turned towards the Classic border at full tilt. Drazzuil reached the bluff just in time to see them disappear out of arrow range.

"That was embarassing," he said, to no one in particular. The Illusionist was cowering silently. "Well, enough. You, come with me."

With the Illusionist, he and his men returned to the battlefield, where the rest of the Fright Knights had gathered up the fallen Cadets. Out of the two hundred who had marched under E'terriole's command, seventy had been unable to escape. Ten of these were dead, and the rest were captured. One was E'terriole himself. Drazzuil immediately telaharmed Andrei Bartavlo.

"Yes?" came the voice of Vækadær's deputy.

"It's Drazzuil," said he. "We've routed the Cadet force, albeit with some unplanned complications, but we have been successful in capturing E'terriole alive. My men are marshalling and will soon be ready for their next assignment."

"Good," said Bartavlo. "Knock the captured enemies unconscious, and leave them at the Classic border at nightfall. Then take E'terriole and return to Envika Sorgodh. Keep your return journey as secretive as your journey there. She-of-the-Barrow is not to know Lord Vækadær was involved. Let her think it was those Strigoi."

"Yes, Batlord Bartavlo," agreed Drazzuil. "Are there any other orders?"

"If there are, Lord Vækadær will inform you of them upon your return, I'm sure. Farewell."

[Formendacil]

Grid: M-8
Location: Drullen Bell Keep

Cate giggled, then gasped.

“Oh, wow!”

Hans and Adrian and Cate stopped and stared. They had arrived at the capital city of Delvarden Gard.

Delvarden Gard was a large city. Not, perhaps, quite an Orion in its scale, but a city large and impressive in its own right.

Most of the construction of the swamp-port was out of the great timber beams that could be harvested all over the Forestdweller kingdoms. There was no city wall, of either wood or stone, for its citizens fled to Drullen Bell in times of war.

Most of the homes were built on the ground, perhaps somewhat raised above the ground, to account for the periodic flooding of the streets that visited the swamp-located city in spring and other wet periods. The city was dotted with trees that remained from great forest around them. These trees were scattered haphazardly, and many were tall and mighty lords of the forest, cut off from their kin. On the greater ones, the Forestmen had built lofty tree-houses of the sort found in Jewel Reef and some other Forestdweller cities.

The great forest grew right up to the edge of the city, which was bounded by channels of the immense Hemlock River delta, which crisscrossed the entire eastern third of the Forestman mainland, turning it into the marshlands known as the Varden Swamp.

Bjarn pointed out a few of the city's greater landmarks as they passed through, including the city hall, some old manor houses, and a large park, but he didn't seem to care much for the city.

"I'm country-born," he said, "and forest-raised. I'm a classic Forestman, in that sense: a hunter, tracker, archer, and outdoorsman. The people of Delvarden Gard are simply townsfolk for the most part, no different from townsfolk in any large city, be it Orion, Falconis City, or Glondur. The real pride of the Forestmen is not Delvarden Gard, but Drullen Bell."

And indeed, as they came through the city, and across one of the many channel-crossing bridges, they saw, rising before them, the great stone fortress of Drullen Bell. Built on a stone island in the many channels, it rose high above them, an immoveable stone monument among the shifting of the water and the woods.

The great fortress was oblong, tapering somewhat at the ends, like a great ship, save that its walls sloped inwards at the top, rather than the bottom. It was several stories tall, longer than it was high, and it was entirely built out of stone. The copious amount of vines that dangled off its sides did not detract from its feeling of permanence, but added to the feel of add and immutability.

"Wow!" said Adrian.

"Sweet!" breathed Hans.

"No kidding," said Cate.

"Welcome," said Bjarn, "to my humble home."

They went on towards the gates, where the guards immediately gave passage to their lord and his companions.

"Do you care to eat first, or visit the library?" asked Bjarn.

"Eat," said Hans.

"Yeah," said Adrian. "Breakfast was a long time ago."

"Boys," Cate rolled her eyes. "They always think with their stomach."

Her nonchalance was ruined, however, by a distinctly audible growl from her lower abdominal regions. The boys laughed.

"Well, I suppose it IS mid-afternoon," said Cate.

They went and had a big, hearty, Forestman lunch, and then Bjarn led them to a large, dimly lit room in the underground level of the fortress.

"We do have a smaller room with the more popular volumes and the current records on the third floor," he said, "but anything to do with the Earl Nathaniel- if we even have anything, will be down here."

Hans took a look around at the books and other documents, and whistled at the impressive size of it. It was the Orion Archives, of course, but it was a very impressive stack indeed.

"Is it sorted?" he asked.

"Not really," said Bjarn. "It was put in an order when they first started it, and things have been added to their proper places as they've been put in since, but there is no catalogue of all the items, and if something was misshelved, there's no way you'd know."

"It's pretty damp down here," said Adrian, "what kind of condition are the books in?"

"They shouldn't be too bad," said Bjarn. "Our druids come in here periodically, and worked at drying out the dampness. Many of the Head Archivists have been druids, including the late Bella Turnleaf."

"Wasn't she killed during that exorcism?" asked Hans. "I remember your memoirs..."

"Correct," nodded Bjarn.

"Who's the Head Archivist now?" asked Adrian.

"I... guess that would be me," said Bjarn. They looked at him expectantly. "After Bella's death, the Forestmen were plunged into war and bad situation after situation, that I never had time to deal with a trivial matter like replacing a Head Archivist, and Gonderin was content to let it be. When I finally managed to settle down after the Lost Stars adventure, I sort of ended up taking it for myself. I had a lot of research to do with some of those accounts I gave you, and being the Leader of the League of Forestmen isn't as taxing as job as its cracked up to be, at least not in times of peace."

"Sweet," said Hans, nodding. "So, do you mind if we have at her?"

"By all means," said Bjarn. "I'll be up in my study on the second floor. Any of the servants can direct you there. Come and ask if you need anything. And be sure to get some more light in here. There's no need to strain your eyes."

"Aye," said Adrian.

[Formendacil]

Grid: C-3
Location: Approaching Emberlain Castle, in the Lion Island interior

William Jorgenson headed away, back through the house and into the trees, silent as a Forestman, while Sir Yves and his guests continued up to Emberlain Castle. As they drew nearer, they noticed that the stone of the Castle was charred black in places.

Emberlain Castle was built on a tall, stony hill that rose above the village. It was bounded to the rear by a clear mountain lake, and on the other sides by the clearing fields of the villagers. The Royal Knight banner and the Tendarl standard flew side by side on the great tower.

They were met at the gates by a company of Royal Knight spearsmen, who recognised Sir Yves, and sent him in. They had barely started to cross the courtyard when Baron Edmond Tendarl rushed out to meet them.

The Baron was a more-or-less average-looking man of middle age: grey-haired, slightly paunchy, and starting to wrinkle. He looked in sad shape, the mark of sleepless nights and little appetite weighing heavily on his features. But he looked excited to see Sir Yves, and there was a bit of a bounce in his step as he came out to meet them.

"Sir Yves!" he exclaimed. "Well met, friend! You've been gone longer than we had hoped, and I began to fear that the dragon had caught you ere ever you had the chance to escape. Have you found Chyroprax's Bane?"

"After a bit of searching," nodded Sir Yves. "And I have brought its bearer, Sir Aethelred Dractor, here to help us." He gestured at Sir Dractor.

"Sir Dractor, this is the Baron of Emberlain, Lord Edmond Tendarl. Lord Edmond, this is Sir Aethelred Dractor and his squire, Thomas Valt."

"Dractor," said the baron, puzzling over the name. "Is that a Black Knight family?"

"I'm not Dametreosian by birth or by fealty," said Sir Dractor. "Although I have served the Forestmen at times during the past year and more."

"He was Admiral during a joint Forestmen/Dark Forest territorial defense mission," said Sir Yves, proclaiming his finds credentials.

"You call yourself 'sir', though," said Lord Edmond, "so I'm guessing that you've been a knight for longer than your service with the Forestmen. Are you a landed Knight or a soldier Knight?"

"More of a Knight Errant," said Sir Dractor, a bit apologetically. "I have no family holdings, but I'm not a member of my lord's army, any more."

"Ah the Knight Errants," said Lord Edmond nostalgically. "The romantic knights of song! Roaming the lands, tied neither to their own holdings nor to any lord! Ridding the world of villains and beasts! Saving young maidens from perilous fates! Living a life of high moral values! Exactly the man we need!"

The Baron was so enthusiastic that Sir Dractor hated to tell him the more mundane truth.

"To kill this dragon," he said practically, "I'm going to need to confront it. Any ideas as to how that might be managed?"

"The dragon seems to have some predictable flight patterns," said the Baron, "that takes him over certain lakes and streams where he likes to water, as well as some regular hunting grounds where he catches a deer or moose to sate his man-hungry appetite. The outlaw scouts will know where they are located. William Jorgenson is the best. I suggest you wait until he returns. In the meantime, I am sure you are hungry."

The Baron led them into the main hall, while stableboys took their horses. In the hall, a beautiful young lady strode out to meet them. She had beautiful blonde hair and a perfectly formed face topping a scuptured body. Sir Dractor raised an eyebrow, while Thomas, gawking, nearly ran into him.

"My daughter, Estella," said the Baron, paternal affection apparent. "If you can kill the dragon, her hand is yours."

"Delighted to meet you, valiant Sir Knight," said Estella, with a curtesy, and every appearance of being sincere. Sir Dractor's eyebrow did not drop, although his face blanched somewhat. Thomas was hard put to control the noise of startlement.

"Shall we eat?" said the Baron. "Sir Yves, will you do the honours of Grace?"

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

“By all means," said Bjarn. "I'll be up in my study on the second floor. Any of the servants can direct you there. Come and ask if you need anything. And be sure to get some more light in here. There's no need to strain your eyes."

"Aye," said Adrian.

Grid: M-8
Location: the archives chamber in Drullen Bell Keep

Bjarn smiled.

"The best of luck to the three of you." he said, "Now I must be off. I'll send someone to fetch you come dinnertime."

Bjarn left them.

"So," said Cate briskly, "Where shall we start?"

"Light." said Adrian, fumbling forward in the semi-gloom, "There's gotta be a -- ah!"

Adrian's groping hands touched upon a cord and he pulled. With a loud clatter and plume of dust slatted shades pulled back from crusted crevasses. Late afternoon sunlight poured downward, causing all three of them to blink. Cate sneezed.

"Phoo! Those haven't been opened in a while!"

"Ug." said Hans, approaching a shelf, "And those druid's have been slacking in their housecleaning..."

Hans gingerly pulled free a sheet of parchment. Originally it had been a copy of a comic lovesong called The Ballad of Sir Render and Miss Match, but a year's worth of mold had obscured the words. Water, too, had blurred lines, and, worse of all, the last five mushy lines were eaten away, probably by rats.

“Eww.” shivered Cate, “That’s gross.”

Adrian and Hans seemed more affronted than revolted.

“There are only thirty-two known copies of this ballad written in it’s original Old Tongue in Dametreos!” cried Adrian, “This is a terrible loss!”

Hans returned the ballad to the shelf with a bereaved expression.

“My opinion of the Forestmen just went down a notch!” said Adrian hotly.

“Well…” said Hans, not eager to join Adrian in those exact sentiments, “The ballad I can forgive, but I sure hope anything of Nathaniel’s is in better condition…”

“Quite.” nodded Adrian, “So, where shall we start?”

“I already asked that…” grumbled Cate under her breath.

Hans shrugged.

“Heck, W’s just as good as any.”

Actually, upon discovering the W section -- consisting of one bookcase -- was relatively small and would be cramped with three persons, Hans, Cate and Adrian decided to tackled three different sections at once: W for Wells, N for Nathaniel and E for Earl.

Conditions in the Drullen Bell Archives were not uncomfortable, but it was no Classic Archives, with the lush carpets, polished bookcases and comfy seats Hans, Adrian and Cate were used to. The stone floor was not rough but cold. The air was damp, and though no cobwebs were present, dust was. There were many sneezes in the next three hours. Nearing the end of the three hours, Cate shrieked with triumph.

“I found something!”

Adrian, in the N section, and Hans, in the W section, both looked up.

“Already? Sweetness!” Hans stood eagerly.

“What do you mean, ‘already’?” said Cate as she gingerly placed a roll of parchment on her lap.

“Honestly, I was expecting it would take, like, longer.” said Hans.

Adrian nodded he pulled up a chair.

“Careful.” he cautioned as Cate tugged at the knot binding the scroll, “It looks like it hasn’t been opened in decades.

With nimble fingers, Cate plucked apart the knot. Hans took hold of one end, and Adrian took the other. Together they unrolled the scroll upon Cate’s lap. There was, at once, a collective groan.

“Eww.”

“Tyco.”

“Not cool.”

The parchment was green and brown with mildew. Words carefully inked nine hundred years ago were obliterated, or, at best, extremely faint. Cate sighed. Adrian squinted. Hans said, “That is SO not cool.”

“Darn these slacker druids.” snapped Adrian.

“VAT!?”

Hans, Adrian and Cate jumped. Contrary to their belief, they were not alone in the Drullen Bell archives. From behind one of the books cases lurched Ida Ichdocher, a eccentric, eighty-four year old druid who served as housecleaner, librarian and all-around nuisance. She was wrinkled immensely and had a trailing mane of dirty gray hair. She brandished a feather mop at the trio as if wielding a sword.

“Vat you zay, you little pesklings? What you zay? Dat I do no vork around here? Bah! Stupid little pesklings! I do all the vork! I vorks days! I vorks nights! And vhy? For vhat? Nuzzing!”

The trio stared, wide-eyed. They were not sure whether or not it was safe to stand. Adrian decided to take the risk of being skewered by a feather duster and rose.

“Excuse me,” he coughed, “Do you keep up around here?”

“Keep up? I keep up!” Ida shrieked, “As best my poor zoul can manage! I am only one druid! I can only ‘keep up’ zo much! Curse ze BloodVaine! Before zim, der vere flocks of druids tending deez papers! No more! He killed zem! He killed those, and now I zlave here always!”

Ida stomped away, viciously swiping at manuscripts with her feather duster. Her shrieks still echoing, Hans leaned forward and said, “Well, that explains the mega blocks condition this place is in.”

“Learning that Bjarn has been short-staffed since the War doesn’t really help our problem.” said Adrian dryly, looking at the ruined parchment in Cate’s lap.

“Well, we can keep looking…” said Cate, with little optimism in her voice.

But before they could start again, a servant came slowly into the room, looking pale. By the noise coming from not far away, it was apparent he had just collided with the druid housecleaner Ida upon the stairs.

“Curses upon ze, Ark Treesline! Cures, you peskling!”

“Er…” the thirty-something servant said, rubbing his head where a few tattered feathers from a certain feather duster had stuck, “Lord Bjarn politely summons you to supper in the Great Hall.”

“Alright…” said Hans.

Cate set aside the parchment and the trio followed Ark up the stairs, dejected.

[Maedhros]

Grid: B-15
Location: Nobumura

Toratsugu and Katateru had returned to Nobumura now. The council was finished for now. They would continue later but first they were going to bring the other clans from the mainland.

The village looked as usual when they arrived, except one thing; there were warriors out training everywhere. They immediately understood why. Toratsugu turned to Katateru and smiled.

"Ah, Hidemitsu must have returned, finally."

Katateru nodded and smiled slightly too. But his smile faded quickly and he added in a sad voice:

"But I think more things have changed, Toratsugu-san."

Toratsugu raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask but then suddenly a man came running towards them. it was Hidemitsu. He bowed before them and they returned his bow politely.

"Katateru-dono, Toratsugu Sensei, I´m happy to see you again."

"And so are we, Hidemitsu-san", Katateru replied with a slight smile.

"I have thousand questions for you, Katateru-dono."

"And we have even more for you, but now I just want to rest", Katateru said and then he bowed again. "Good evening to you."

[Formendacil]

Grid: M-8
Location: Drullen Bell

“Er…” the thirty-something servant said, rubbing his head where a few tattered feathers from a certain feather duster had stuck, “Lord Bjarn politely summons you to supper in the Great Hall.”

“Alright…” said Hans.

Cate set aside the parchment and the trio followed Ark up the stairs, dejected.

"I feel really bad for you guys," said Cate, as they plodded up the stairs, Ark having disappeared ahead of them. "I know how you had your hearts set on that One Brick."

"It's all BloodVaine's fault," said Hans darkly. "If he hadn't gone killing anybody with the decency to stand up against him, they'd still have the druids to tend this valuable collection."

"It's convenient, isn't it," said Adrian, "to be able to trace all problems back to BloodVaine."

"Yes," said Hans bitterly, "it is."

"Well, I'm not absolving him of his part," said Adrian, "but I think that the druids were dwindling in number even before BloodVaine's war. He just killed off a lot of the old stock."

"Whatever the reason, it's a crying shame," said Hans.

"True," said Adrian. "Still, do you think there's any chance that there's a copy of it down there?"

"Unlikely," said Hans. "Whatever was on that parchment, it wasn't likely to have been interesting to anyone not in the know, I bet."

"Pity."

"Guys!" interrupted Cate, "is that what I think it is?"

"Huh?" said Hans. He and Adrian looked where Cate was pointing. They had just come up to the main level, and were in a broad hallway. A handsome, tattooed Forestman in important-looking clothes was coming in their direction.

"Um, Cate," said Adrian. "I don't think it's really cricket to be calling a person an 'it'."

"But is he?" pressed Cate.

"Is he a what?" asked Adrian.

"An elf!" said Cate. "Look at those features! Those tattoos! Those ears! Isn't he gorgeous!"

"Not really," muttered Hans. "Looks rather old and grouchy to me." Adrian tried to stifle a laugh.

They went on, and the elf continued in their direction.

"Good day, young masters, good lady," he said, stopping in front of them and bowing. "I assume that you are the young friends of Lord Bjarn, recently arrived from Orion?"

"Um, yeah," said Adrian, since Cate was giggling, and Hans was still glowering. "I'm Adrian Seojton, this is Cate Slacs-Sicl, and this is Hans Lentawl."

"Well met," said the elf. "I am Gonderin, Chief Lieutanent of the Forestmen. It is an honour to meet you. I assume that you were headed in the direction of supper?"

"Yeah," said Adrian.

"In that case, you are going the wrong way. It is down the hall this way." He pointed in the direction they had come, past the stairs they had come up.

"Oh," said Adrian, "thanks." The three of them made an about face, and followed Gonderin down the hallway, and into the main hall, where supper was waiting.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

And with a chuckle, Felix threw an arm around Dale and led him to the nearest pub.

Grid: Q-10
Location: Josstshire

The pub Felix and Dale entered was called the Lame Duck. Like thousands of it's kin, the interior was smokey and crowded. Dale and Felix squeezed up to the bar.

"A pint of your best beer for the both of us!" ordered Felix.

The balding bartender turned away and returned with two foamy mugs.

"Cheers!" grinned Felix, and he and Dale clinked glasses.

Dale took a sip while Felix took a long gulp.

"Well, do you feel any different?" asked Felix after he had come up for air.

"Not yet..." said Dale, "Except...I suppose...anchored. I finally have a faction I can call my own. And I can be proud of it."

Felix did not probe.

"One thing, Felix." said Dale, drinking, "Don't spread the word of this."

Felix shrugged.

"As you wish. But it's not something to hide."

"But I don't want to flaunt it." said Dale.

Felix smiled.

"It's your choice. I wouldn't be the one to spread gossip anyway, as you know."

Dale smiled.

"I know, Felix. And thanks."

"For what? The beer?"

"Your friendship."

Felix didn't say anything at once. At last, he said, "C'mon. Let's find some fellow Hemmeringtons. There's wares to be sold."