Classic-Castle.com

Additions to the continuing epic should be posted here. Character registerations, questions and comments regarding the CCRP should be posted in this thread.

Let the adventure continue!

Grid: I-5
Location: Approaching Taurus Stronghold

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“As a disclaimer, I would like to point out not all Crusader food tasted like…”

“Dirt.” said Hans, “Good ol’ Crusader dirt.”

Adrian clamped his mouth shut and spend the rest of the day glaring at Hans.

It was two weeks after Hans, Adrian, and Cate had left Denderham, and they were arriving at the capital of the Bull Knights: Taurus Stronghold, having come up through Crusader and Forestman land.

"I'm looking, and looking," said Cate, "but I'm not seeing any capital city. And that castle looks too small to be the king's..."

"It is," said Hans. "I've seen illustrations. Although since most of those predate the Bull/Falcon War, I'm surprised it actually looks the same."

"Why so small?" asked Cate.

"The Bulls have always been a small, more rural faction," explained Adrian. "They were originally just an independent tribe between the Forestdwellers and the Falcons. Even now, they've got the smallest population of the factions. Their leaders didn't take the title of king until the 1890s."

"Still, they must have been pretty important if Earl Nathaniel hid a clue here," said Cate.

"Well, they've played their part in the drama of history, to be sure," said Adrian. "But the point is that the Bulls have always been fairly rustic and this castle, though quite old, really isn't all that different from an ordinary baron's castle elsewhere. And- believe it or not- it's the biggest castle in the kingdom."

"One thing's for sure," said Hans, "we shouldn't have any problems with red tape here. The Bulls are really loose with rules. Remember those Bulls at the Ball!"

"How could I forget?" Cate rolled her eyes.

"Well, your memories might be too full of Hans' hat and Sir Dractor's vomit to remember such trivial details," suggested Adrian.

"I'm afraid that I was so absorbed in my handsome date that I don't know what you're talking about," said Cate, fluttering her eyelashes, and causing Adrian's face to sour.

"I just hope they have their archives taken care of," said Hans. "And that they're in some sort of order."

"I'm sure they won't be that big," said Adrian.

"Even a tiny faction like the Bulls should have a decently large archive, if properly maintained," said Hans. "And if it's not properly maintained, then I fear that Nathaniel's clue would be lost to history."

"It might not be paper," suggested Cate. "The clue in Denderham wasn't."

"If it's not in the Archives, then I haven't a clue where we would look," said Hans. "Even a small castle like Taurus Stronghold would take forever to search if we didn't know what we were looking for."

"Well, let's not worry needlessly," said Adrian. "For all we know, the Archives will be in perfect order."

"Yeah..." said Hans, looking up at the soldiers leaning casually against the castle gate they were guarding. "Yeah..."

K-19 Hidden Caves

Throg reacted first. Instantly, his battle axe came whistling out of his shoulder strap. Tearing through the first orc’s face and burying itself in the second one’s neck. A boot to the corpse’s chest wrenched it out. The Shadow Cultist made a hissing noise and drew a chrome dagger, he seemed to float backwards, about six feet.

The other four orcs behind dropped the Morcian corpse with a clatter and drew their swords. Throg blocked and deflected the first few blows easily. All four of the orcs were using the terrain to their advantage. He threw in a quick crack with his axe. Sending one down with a split skull. Giving ground, Throg moved in and carved through another at the ankles. Now the remainder were afraid. Throg put them out of their misery with two swings.

“Foolish infidel! Your ignorance of the Shadow will be your undoing!” Hissed the cultist.

In the blink of an eye, the cultist made a sign in the air and began to chant. Throg saw something very wrong was happening, so he attempted to do something about it. He would have thrown his axe at the minifig, but it was not designed for that sort of work. It was a pity because the cultist disappeared in a puff of smoke. Once it cleared, a wall of shrieking scorpions was in his place.

“Tyco!” Gasped Throg.

The jet black scorpions were the size of dogs. The foul creatures began to scuttle towards him. Cursing, Throg swatted several aside with his axe. Picking up a fallen sword, he pinned one to the floor before it could recover. The scorpion flayed about uselessly, while it’s fellows encircled their prey. Muttering curses with every swing, Throg swatted them around. The blade was good for cleaving through the stoutest ABS, but the scorpions carapaces seemed to be resistant to it.

Unless Throg’s eyes were deceiving him, another scorpion emerged out of the darkness every minute. It now appeared he faced a dozen more then when he first started. He wasn’t the type to run away from a good scrap, but he didn’t particularly feel like falling to these little freaks. Soon he broke into a run down a hallway.

Formendacil wrote:Melkan closed the door, and they were back in the hall.

"Well, I'm a physical healer, not a healer of the mind, but it seems to me that she still bears the scars of her family's sudden death. Keep an eye on her- she'll need the support."

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington

It was the beginning of February, the coldest month, and Dale was inside Alice’s small home, cleaning the soot out of the crooked, cast-iron stove. He was smeared black and gray, and he couldn’t stop sneezing. He was going through a particularly impressive series of “achoos” when Alice pushed open the door, her healer’s basket on her arm.

“’Ello --CHOO-- Alice!” sneezed Dale, wiping his nose.

“Hello.” replied Alice quietly.

Dale looked at her. She appeared disconcerted and sad -- worry lines creased her normally smooth forehead.

“What is the matter?” asked Dale at once.

“Merina has taken ill.” said Alice, kicking a stool into place before stepping up upon it and untying some dried herbs from a rafter beam, “She won’t stop coughing, and she’s getting weaker. Melkan is deeply troubled. Nothing he does helps. He hasn’t looked this helpless since that tree crushed poor Vanessa Rochtinger’s boy.”

“Oh…” Dale stood and hastily wiped the soot off his face and hands. Alice got off her stool, and Dale held her tight.

“Melkan saved me from death. I am sure he will find some way to aid her.”

“I’m not sure…” said Alice, “I’m not sure of a lot of things these days…”

Dale looked at her.

“What else are you not sure about?” he asked slowly, “Are you not…sure about us?”

“No!” cried Alice, clutching him tight, “I have no doubt in my mind about us. But other things…”

“Like what?”

“Hemmerington.” said Alice, “I was born here. I’ve lived here all my life. And Hemmerington’s never been like this…never so…so cold.”

“McGregor said it was just a bad spell, that the snows will…”

“No,” Alice interrupted, “Not that cold. Human cold. Where’s the friendliness I remember from yesteryear? Everyone…now everyone’s on edge, nervous, snappy. Ever…ever since Thomas came back.”

“Thomas, whether he as meant to or not, has stirred up trouble.” said Dale, “Merina, for one. And the Fright Knights.”

“I feel so sorry for him.” said Alice.

“As do I.” said Dale, “But that is the way things go. He’s going to have to come to terms with what he’s done, whether he meant to or not.”

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington

It was nearly a week after the Fright Knights had made off with Harold Brakespear's papers. Thomas was sitting with Merina in front of Melkan's fire, when William Jorgenson came.

"Found him," said the outlaw. "Took us long enough."

Thomas shifted to listen. The Fright Knights had departed from the Fell Isle almost immediately, returning to their ship that had been moored off the coast. All the Fright Knights, that is, except one. By chance, Arvey had discovered that the Fright Knight captain, with the papers, had not gone with his men, but had remained behind in his camp.

By the time Thomas, William, and a few others had headed to the Fright Knight camp, a blizzard was beginning, and the Fright Knight was nowhere to be found.

Thomas and most of the others had retreated to Hemmerington for shelter, while William and Arvey tried to track down where the Fright Knight had gone. That was five days ago.

"He's gone to Rendport," said William. "And apparently he booked passage to Chevraport, the main Classic port city."

"Chevraport," murmured Thomas. "Why not just go to the Fright Knight lands?"

"Because no Fright Knight ships are to be found in a village like Rendport," suggested Melkan. "Chevraport is as close as he'll get to the Fright Knight border."

"So, what do we do?" asked William.

"I'd like to go after him," said Thomas. "I'd like to know what's so important about those papers." He sighed. "But we need to get Merina to Acklarion."

"Acklarion's in Black Knight territory," noted William. "It wouldn't really be a detour if we went there by way of Chevraport."

"That would mean going overland," said Thomas. "Which is more strenuous."

"I don't really care for the ship's motion too much," said Merina. "And it's a warmer climate down there."

"If you're going to try and catch this Fright Knight," said Melkan, "I'd take ship from Davem's Cove, south of here. It'll save you a bit of distance, seeing how Rendport's to the north."

"Would you be ready to leave tomorrow, Merina?" asked Thomas.

"I think I'd be fine," nodded Merina.

"Then that's when we leave," said Thomas. "And I'm ready. As nice as it's been to be back, things aren't the same as I remember. They're right when they say that you can't go back. Hemmerington is different. And so am I."

Grid: I-5
Location: Taurus Stronghold

Formendacil wrote:"Well, let's not worry needlessly," said Adrian. "For all we know, the Archives will be in perfect order."

"Yeah..." said Hans, looking up at the soldiers leaning casually against the castle gate they were guarding. "Yeah..."

The three young friends were in luck. The Bull Knights were indeed very lax about rules, and they were allowed to saunter right in to the Archives, where a freckled kid not even their age was the main caretaker.

"Everic McBaudler," he said, stretching out his hand in welcome. "Can I help you?"

"We're just browsing," said Hans. "Thanks, though."

The three friends began to look through the stacks.

"It's bigger than the Dark Forest one," said Cate.

"Other than the Falcon conquest, the Taurus Stronghold hasn't been overrun," explained Adrian. "And the Falcons tend to be rather fond of records, and paper in general."

"Kind of like Crusaders and dirt," said Hans with a grin.

"Or Classics and overusing already tired jokes," said Adrian.

"It seems to be in pretty good order, too," said Hans, ignoring Adrian's jibe. "Not in book-perfect order, but at least it's neatly shelved, and roughly grouped in order."

"The usual?" said Cate. "Split up and looked for Nathaniel, Wells, and Earl?"

"Dibs on Nathaniel," said Hans.

"Cate?" asked Adrian, gentlemanly, getting more of a reaction out of Hans than his jibe at the Classics had.

"Thanks, Adrian, I'll take Wells."

"Then I get 'Earl'," said Adrian. They split up, and headed off to look through their assigned sections.

Evening was coming on, and the sky was darkening outside before anyone found something.

"Here!" cried Cate. "I've found something about 'the legacy of the Earl of Wells'."

"Naturally, they filed it under 'Wells'," grumbled Adrian, although it was a good-natured grumble.

"What's it say?" asked Hans.

"Here," Cate handed over the parchment.

"August 1784,

While reinforcing the foundations under the southeast tower of Taurus Stronghold, the labourers came across an inscription believed to date to the 1300s, written in what appears to be a Classic LEGOlandian script. I transcribe it here at the Baron's orders:

The bricks of bricks is safely kept,
Hidden not in this forgotten crypt.
Look not to the Bulls to find the gift,
But seek it beneath the Falcon's perch.

The stone bearing this inscription was badly damaged when discovered, and has since been removed, and probably no longer exists.

Albert Bullstrode, Scribe of Baron Barbapple II"

"Pity that block of stone was removed," said Adrian. "It would have been neat to see."

"The important thing is that we need to go to Falconis City next," said Hans. "It was the Falcon capital in the 1300s, right?"

"As long as there have been Falcons, there's been a capital in Falconis City," agreed Adrian, "except for during the odd invasion."

"Guys..." interrupted Cate. "Do you hear anything?"

The boys went silent.

"Not a thing," said Hans, as Adrian shook his head.

"Exactly," said Cate. "What happened to that kid, McBaudler or whatever?"

"Listen!" said Hans. "I hear footsteps in the passage!"

The door to the Archive opened, and a four figures dressed in black, masked, entered the room. They were carrying unsheathed swords.

"Quick!" said Hans. They dashed around a freestanding shelf, before any of the black figures had seen them. But they had been heard. The figures dispersed throughout the room, seeking them methodically.

"Come out, young ones," said the one who must have been their leader. "We know you are here."

Cate looked Hans and Adrian in the eye, and pointed at the shelf in front of them. Nodding, the three of them stood up suddenly, and slammed into the shelves. Top heavy, and destabilized, the shelves careened over, slamming down on top of one of the men, and hitting the next row, causing to fall onto another of the black-robed figures. But before the three friends could applaud themselves, the two remaining black-cloaked men were after them.

Hans and Adrian drew their swords in defence, painfully aware that they barely had an idea of how to use them.

"Run, Cate!" said Hans. "Save yourself!"

"Don't be ridiculous!" said Cate. "They're between me and the door."

"Oh, yeah..." said Hans.

The two black-cloaked men approached them, but even as they drew near, the door of Archive banged open, and a towering, rugged figure stood in the doorway.

"What is megablox is going on here?"

Barbod, King of the Bulls, had been asleep in his bedroom upstairs. Catching sight of his spear in one hand, and battleaxe in the other, the two black-cloaked men jumped out the window.

Formendacil wrote:"What is megablox is going on here?"

Barbod, King of the Bulls, had been asleep in his bedroom upstairs. Catching sight of his spear in one hand, and battleaxe in the other, the two black-cloaked men jumped out the window.

Grid: I-5
Location: Taurus Stronghold

Under the glowering stare of the King of the Bulls, Hans and Adrian wavered. Their sword tips fell to the floor. King Barbod squinted at them. His bushy eyebrows darted up in astonishment.

“You two!” he blurted, staring at Cate and Adrian, “That young Classic couple! At the Ball! What are you doing here?” he added gruffly.

Cate blinked once, then, like a pro, slipped her arm into Adrian’s. Subsequently, Adrian’s and Hans’ eyes bugged in unison.

“My, my, Lord Barbod, you gave us a start.” Cate laughed lightly, “We were just up here on business -- dear Adrian is most interested in arranging the purchase of some acres for a summer manor -- and we thought we’d stop by.”

Adrian grimaced.

Barbod turned to Hans

“Who are you?” Barbod demanded. Apparently the Bull King had forgotten about Hans.

“Uh…” Hans fumbled.

“He’s our porter!” inserted Cate quickly, “He, uh, helps with our horses, and all that…”

Hans dropped his sword with a clang. Cate leaned forward toward Barbod and winked conspiratorially.

“He’s a bit slow upstairs.” she confided, “But strong. And he’s loyal.”

Barbod chuckled. Hans bent over stiffly, retrieved his sword, shoved it into it’s sheath, them stumped behind Adrian to glower. Cate gushed on, “Thank you so much for saving us for those robbers!”

Barbod frowned.

“Skilled robbers to get into my castle.”

He looked at the tumbled bookshelves, as did the trio.

Adrian exclaimed, “Where are the other two? We knocked two down!”

“Hmpf.” said Barbod, “They must have slipped out. Bloody robbers, wrecking my library…where is that runt McBaudler? McBaudler!”

McBaudler stumbled down the staircase and into the wrecked room. A purple bruise popped from the side of his head.

“Yessir?”

“You’ve got a library to clean. Call that Peter McSournley if you need help.”

“Yessir…”

Barbod beckoned to the trio with a single beefy club of a hand.

“Come. There’s half a boar upstairs.”

Barbod lumbered up the stairs, weapons still in hand, with Cate following, dragging Adrian with him, and Hans trailing behind. Hans shrugged silently in apology at the stunned-looking Everic McBaudler, who had quite a mess to clean up. As they ascended the stairs, Barbod asked, as a way to keep up the conversation, “So, got a few youngin’s running under some nanny’s feet back in Orion?”

Adrian stumbled on a stair. Behind them, Hans the “porter” snorted.

“Uh…no.” said Cate, blushing.

Barbod looked incredulous. “Not even a babe? Not even pregnant?”

Cate shook her head, now bright red.

Barbod turned about and slapped Adrian hard on the back in a teasing manner.

“You might want to get your equipment checked out.” he bellowed good-naturedly as they entered the great hall.

It was Adrian’s turn to go crimson.

“Still partaking in the good ol’ booze, then?” winked Barbod, “Good -- good…you’ll beef up your little completion yet!”

Several other Bulls were at the table already, including those who Cate and Adrian had met briefly at the Ball, so many months ago.

“Welcome, Classics!” greeted Jerral jovially.

Cate and Adrian were given the seats of honor next to Lord Barbod, and Hans was seated several seats down sandwiched between Gerrick and Dordrot.

Barbod raised a goblet full of wine.

“To our guests, the young couple!” he bellowed.

Adrian and Hans glowed for very different reasons. Cate giggled.

Grid: I-5
Location: Taurus Stronghold

After the meal, it took all of Cate’s wiliness to escape from the Taurus Stronghold. The Bulls were a boisterous much, and they were most disappointed when the young couple and their manservant had to go. But, finally, the trio did leave, but took up residence in a local inn, since it was getting dark. Hans and Adrian were still grumpy, but Cate was in a good mood.

“Those Bulls,” she said, “Are so funny.”

“So you say.” muttered Adrian.

“You didn’t like them!’ accused Cate sharply.

“Let me just said I understand a Black Falcon’s point of view.” said Adrian slowly.

Hans laughed.

“Can’t agree more. Manservant, indeed. By the way, thanks a lot, Cate, for that.”

Cate shrugged innocently.

“Would you have rather been thrown out by the king of the Bulls? It was the best I could come up with to make sure we didn’t get separated.”

“Still…” grumbled Hans, “Manservant.”

“Anyway,” said Adrian, “The important thing is we got the clue.”

Hans nodded.

“The next clue is obviously in Falconis City.” he said.

“But where, exactly?” asked Cate.

“I’m guessing somewhere in or around the Falcon Spire,” said Adrian, “You know, the ‘falcon’s perch.’”

Cate’s face wrinkled in worry.

“That will be hard to get into. And…we have those masked men to worry about.”

“Yeah,” said Adrian, “They must be following us.”

“Not to worry,” said Hans grandly, “We have our swords. We can defend ourselves.”

Cate rolled her eyes.

Grid: M-24
Location: Old Ruins

M'dagril was dozing. At M'dagril's age, one dozed quite a bit. 1200 years was a considerable age, to be sure. He was nudged awake by a gentle push from Al'laxi.

"Mmm?" he mumbled, looking up.

"R'nedri," she said. "She's passed on."

M'dagril sighed, but it was tired, world-weary sigh. "Yet another of our number gone. Shall there be any of us left when the King finally comes?"

"We can but place our trust in Chodan," said Al'laxi. "The King will come."

"We are so few... and so old," sighed M'dagril. "Only fourteen, now that R'nedri has passed on, out of a band of two hundred. And even young W'llessan is nearly eight hundred."

"The King will come," said Al'laxi resolutely. "He must."

"I fear that if he does not come soon, it will be too late," said M'dagril. "The invasion of those soldiers and sorcerors last year is an ill omen. The magic tires as we do..."

"Nay, the magic is strong!" said Al'laxi. "It was a part of the natural workings of the magic that allowed them to enter."

"But in the past we should have driven them back out," said M'dagril.

"The King will come," said Al'laxi.

M'dagril nodded. He hoped so.

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“Not to worry,” said Hans grandly, “We have our swords. We can defend ourselves.”

Cate rolled her eyes.

Grid: G-7
Location: Falconis City

It took the Trio eleven days on horseback to reach the mainland capital of the Black Falcons. They arrived in Falconis City in late morning. The gates of the city were flung wide, and persons on foot and horseback traveled in and out in a steady stream. Hans, Adrian and Cate met no resistance until they attempted to enter the Falcon Spire.

“I’m sorry,” said the polite but firm guard dressed in navy with black trim, “But the Falcon Spire is not open to the public.”

The trio tried every variant of pleading they knew, but it got them no further.

“Please,” said Cate, “We’re scholars, and there is something of value we are seeking, and we think it’s in the Spire.”

“The public library is just down the street.” said the guard firmly.

The trio turned away, dejected.

“Tyco.” swore Hans.

“Well,” said Cate reasonably, “I’m frankly surprised this hasn’t happened sooner. How many countries let teenagers wander about the inner sanctum of their capital?”

“For starters,” said Adrian, ticking them off on his fingers, “The Forestmen, the Dark Foresters, the Wolfpack, the Crusaders, the Bulls…”

“That’s because of luck and having the right connections.” said Cate.

“Well, we’re out of luck.” said Hans, “Cate, do you have any Black Falcon cousins we could trick into getting us into the Spire?”

“I have plenty.” sniffed Cate, “But I’ve never met them. I’m not about to turn up on Great Uncle Olaf’s or Cousin Cecily’s doorstep, bedraggled and in the company of two questionable lads asking for the keys to the Falcon Spire.”

“Questionable lads?” Hans fumed, “Whaddaya mean --”

“She’s right, Hans.” interrupted Adrian, “Asking a distant relative isn’t going to work…”

Hans shoved his hands into his pockets grumpily and stared at the ground. Adrian did likewise and leaned against a brick wall despondently. Cate, on the other hand, squinted at a place just above Adrian’s shoulder.

“Move Adrian.” said Cate, pushed him out of the way.

“Well excuse me.” snapped Adrian.

Cate peered hard at the brick wall. Upon it was posted a parchment.

Hear ye, hear ye! Come on, come all! Those with a penny in one’s pocket and a love for theatre in one’s heart are bid welcome to attend the Theatre Popular! Master Vanderdious Shiringtonbergville presents the classic tale of The Ghost Of The Theatre, a musical, by the playwright A. L. Cobwebs.

“Vanderdious Shiringtonbergville…” Cate rolled the name over her tongue, “Hans, wasn’t he that Black Falcon with that gigantic hat at the ball.”

“Heh, whaddaya know…” smirked Hans, “He did say he was an actor…”

“Ooh, then we should go and see it!” said Cate.

“Why?” asked Adrian, “We saw The Ghost Of The Theatre in Orion.”

“Yes,” said Cate, “But it’ll be great to see it again! And we aren’t going anywhere anyway…”

“I’m all for it.” said Hans.

Adrian shrugged. “Well, okay. When’s it at?”

“Nightfall.” said Cate.

“Good.” said Adrian, “That’ll give us time for lunch. Those Black Falcon sausages are calling me…”

H-7 Doufwuden Castle

Dryna spent the whole day locked up in here study. Very few would try to reach her, even if she was the one who dealt with all the paperwork involved in ruling the land. The long winding spiral staircase was enough to fell the best of them. Only two minifigs dared brave the dizzying heights. One was a banker who almost got his head torn off and the other a servant who came to give the Countess a slice of bread, since she would not be dining with the good Count.

Dryna sighed in irritation, on her desk lay a massive opened tome. The Chronicles of Dametreos 1200-1980, Wiki Edition. A month or so beforehand, she had sent Gunther to fetch it from Falconis City. The information held within it’s texts was absolutely vital to all her schemes. Fate would have it that the book was illegiable.

The book was a diary of sorts, instead of a scribe rewriting it, he had simply squished all the paper together and made a spine. Most sections were written in cursive, she had cursed about it after battling through a single sentence. The dialects were old very old and not of that region. The language also had significant altercations.

What in the name of The Wooden Duck did the Ikrosian language have to do bringing about The Change in Dametreos? Such things were lost to the mists of time, or in the rotting pages of that book. Still she was about a hundred pages deep into the thousands of pages contained within…

Repressing her anger, Dryna stood up, she would find other things to do. The tome had completely burned her out. Once she opened the door leading down the stairs, she blinked. Feeling about herself, she realised she forgot her hidden belt knife. As a Countess of the Black Falcons she had no need to fear assassins. It was what she didn’t do as a Countess that caused her to worry.

Once she reached the corridors, a dozen servants crowded around her. “Good day milad-“ Began one.

“Go ready a horse.” She said, cutting him off.

“Of course milady! Mila…” The servant realised that the Countess was well down the hall when he was halfway through his sentence.

Another, younger servant snickered, “That’s the Countess?”

“Well at least she looks after the people.” Grunted the other.

Grid: G-7
Location: Falconis City

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:Adrian shrugged. “Well, okay. When’s it at?”

“Nightfall.” said Cate.

“Good.” said Adrian, “That’ll give us time for lunch. Those Black Falcon sausages are calling me…”

"Oh, this is going to be so embarrassing," Cate was grumbling, as they lined up to enter the theatre that evening.

"Why?" asked Hans.

"Well, just look at us!" said Cate. "These clothes aren't rags, but this isn't theatre dress by a long shot!"

"Well, we aren't exactly going to be sitting in the private boxes," said Adrian. "We're in with the commoners, packed down below the stage. Don't expect to have seats either..."

"Ugh... commoners," sniffed Cate. "We should have sprung for real sets."

"Hey, watch who you disparage!" said Hans. "You're in the company of two commoners, you know!"

"Sorry, Hans..." said Cate, sincerely. "I forgot..."

"You just made my night, Cate," said Adrian, pulling himself up aristocratically.

"Well, I'm still insulted," said Hans.

Soon after, they had purchased three tickets to the commoners' floor below the stage, and found, thankfully, that Adrian had been wrong about the lack of seats, and settled themselves onto three bare wooden seats in the middle of the third row.

Soon the play began....

~~~~~~~~~~~

When the curtain went down at the end of the play, and the audience's applause was starting to die down, Hans felt a tugging on his sleeve. A page in theatre livery was squeezed between him and the next row.

"Excuse me," he asked. "Master Vanderdious wished me to invite you and your companions backstage. He said that you would remember an incident with a couple of large hats."

Adrian grinned, Cate laughed, and Hans nodded sagely.

"Lead the way, my good man!"

L-12 Castle Dracul

After he had recovered from his wounds, Venvorskar and Stickle quickly ran up the stone steps that led out of the cavern, away from the still raging battle below. Once they were free of the cavern, Venvorskar put a curse on the door, that would prevent any of the combatents below from coming through; and would also deliver a heafty electric shock to anyone who tried.
That done, he decided to go back to the DarkCloud and fetch Venkor. He wanted to stop the fighting below, but wasn't sure how. Perhaps Venkor would know. He didn't know from what world Pythos had summoned the megablocks; but by now he was coming to understand that there were quite a few more worlds than the ones that his previous adventure had taken place in. He and Venkor were lucky to have escaped with their lives, considering what they had been through; very lucky indeed. It was amazing, but he thought that three of the little band of companions that had so convinently escaped from him, looked remarkably like, if not exactly the same as; Midark, Darkold, and Rodeny; three of those who had almost brought about his downfall, and forced him and Venkor to leave; procrastnating the rise of the Dark to some other time.
There seemed to be no presence of the Dark here on this world; but if he had learned anything from before, there most likly was, someplace. It was time to bring Venkor to the castle; it was time to gain a foothold on this world. He realized that he hadn't seen Fankoria for more than twenty years. It had been so long since that first fatal day when he and Venkor had sailed in the Darkcloud from Fankoria to Irnos. So long ago it seemed... since everything... But he and Venkor had survived it all, and now it was starting all over again. He clenched his fist, and suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. Stickle was looking at him queerly. He motioned him to come over; Stickle obeyed. He called up a portal with a wave of his hand. A twisting blue oval appeared in the air in front of him; he walked through, and Stickle followed.
They appeared on the deck of the ship. Erigeron was crouched in the bow of the ship, and he looked up when the two appeared.
Once he saw it was Venvorskar, he lowered his head again. Venvorskar walked into the depths of the huge ship to Venkor's quarters.
When he opened the door, Venkor was out of his bed and working at a desk on one side of the room.
Venvorsar was shocked, "My Master!" he exclaimed, "You are cured?"
"Yes, my apprentice; a day ago, the desease suddenly left me, I felt renewed streighnth once more."
Venvorskar thought about that for a moment, what happened a 24 hours ago... Then he remembered: it might have been when Pythos died.
"Tell me what has happened while you were gone," Venkor ordered.
"When I appeared at the source of the strange disturbance, I saw a portal, an exterimely powerful one, and megablocks were spewing through. It seemed that a wizard named Pythos had summoned them. I immediatly engaged Pythos; and my sword lightning quickly started to weaken him. But, as I was about to finish the job, some other wizard, Count Belzzar, entered. We all fired spells at each other, and that looked like it finally was too much for Pythos; he started babbling nonsense, and started falling towards the portal. Just then, a strange knight came up and sttabbed Pythos two times. Pythos tried to drag this knight with him into the portal, but the knight escaped. Count Belzzar wondered off through a side door of the chamber, and I escaped through the upper door, putting a seal on it when I was through."
"A very interesting story," said Venkor, "It seems this Pythos died around the same time as my desease was lifted."
"Yes, Master I noticed that also."
"It seems that our best course of action would be to retreat into the upper part of the castle, untill we come up with a sutable plan. This boat will need to be sent back. Let our enimies do with it what they please."
Venvorskar, Venkor, Stickle, Knickle, and Erigeron stood of the beach, and watched their ship dissapear through the blue sphere portal that had brought it here. Then, they all walked towards the forest and vanished.
~
Midark open his eyes and looked around him. He was in a forest clearing, and there was a fire buring
nearby. He noticed Darkold sitting stiring it.
"Darkold? What happened?" he asked. The last thing he remebered was staying at an inn with
Sir Valric and the rest, and then...nothing.
"You've been out for a while Midark," Darkold said, "You must be hungry. Come have some
of this soup."
Midark got up and walked over. All parts of his body seemed to be in a dull pain. While
he was eating his soup, Darkold explained what happened.
"We were satying at that inn, as you probably remember; but on the last day, while you
were still recovering from your wounds, this huge megablox dragon appeared in the sky; most likly one
of the ones that that megablox Pythos let lose. It swooped down over the town, and started shooting
fireballs on everything. One of them hit the inn, and a piece of the ceeling fell and hit your head. You were
nocked uncontious, and the inn was bursting into flames everywhere, so I draged you out into this forest.
You were pretty badly injured. But I maneged to fix you up a bit," he gave Midark a small smile.
"Thatnk you, my friend, you did a good job. What happened to Sir Valric, and the rest of them?"
"They were gone when I woke up. I thought I saw Rodney escaping; but Sir Valric and Sir Theodore
were nowhere to be found. I'm sure they must have escaped, but I could have used a bit of help," he muttered.
"I suppose we should go after them," Midark said.
"I don't know, it's been days. I don't even know where they would have gone."
"Perhaps they went to castle Dracul to clean it out?" Midark suggested.
"Aye," Darkold smiled, "That sounds like the kind of thing the Sir Valric would do. But are
you well enough for a journey?"
"I suppose," Midark replied, "But I don't just want to sit here doing nothing."
"I know what you mean. Well, now that we've seen a dragon -rather too close
for my tastes- we can go see if our friends need help."
Midark and Darkold gathered their provisions and headed out after Sir Valric and Sir Theodore.
~

Rodney had been just outside the inn when the dragon had attacked. He was practicing on his lute, and
composing more of his very long ballad, when...
...WHAM!!! A gigantic fireball slammed into the inn behind him, the shockwave throwing him
off his feet and slamming him into the dirt. He quickly got up. It was one of those megablox dragons that that
megablox wizard Pythos had summoned. He remembered Midark and Darkold were still in the inn,
and he rushed around. The door wouldn't open, most likly because there were fallen debries blocking it
from the inside. He would have to run for it. He hated the though of leaving his two new friends behind,
but there was nothing for it. He couldn't get in, and the dragon was shooting fireballs at everything, so it
wasn't the safest place to be. He ran through the houses towards the forest. 'I guess its back to a sloitary
life as a bard,' he thought ruefully. He decided that he may as well head back to Orion and look around
for a more perminant job. That might be where Sir Valric and Sir Theodore would go.

K-19 Hidden Caves

With a horde of flesh eating scorpions behind him, Throg quickened his pace. Ahead of him, the dark tunnel ended off at huge metal portal. Two tall square doors decorated with chains and skulls took up an entire wall. With a grunt, he managed to pull them open. Conscious of what was behind him, he slammed the doors behind him. To make sure he got no nasty surprises, he slided a thick metal plate across the doors before he moved on.

Breathing heavily, he allowed himself to slide to the floor for a moment. He let out a spiteful laugh when he heard something scuttling uselessly on the other side of the door. Dusting himself off, he turned to get a good look at his new surroundings. He had now wandered into a cavern, a large one. He was standing on top of a virtual cliff edge, with a series of staircases and narrow catwalks branched off the length of the chamber.

Beneath him, appeared to be a full blown tyco factory. A dozen forges lay strewn about, each groaning under their workloads. Hundreds of newly forged orcish style weapons and suits of armour were slowly being placed into barrels and crates and taken out. Also amongst the workshops, were what seemed to be miniature catapults, in every shape and size. Most was being assembled in large groups rather then individually.

Throg blinked, down below him, was the makings of an army vastly larger then the one arrayed in the fields of Karond Kar. It was an army that would easily be capable of overrunning all opposition on the isle. Then possibly Dametreos itself. Throg had led his men into a big scrap alright. If this army actually got going, it would put that last Orcish Invasion to shame. There was just one flaw with Vermicus’s plan, where did he intend to get recruits from? Those abominations crawling out of the spawning pits that called themselves orcs? It would take years to spawn that many, that is if they didn’t kill each other first.

Then Throg saw some good friends of his. A dozen men in black and crimson cloaks were shuffling about in one tidy corner. “…Keeping searching, if there is an intruder, I want it destroyed!” Roared one.

“We shall find him master! Even in this labyrinth, we cannot lose him, the guardsmen know the passages well. It is only a matter of time before we flush him out, the scorpions will see to that.” Replied another in an annoyed tone.

“Very well then. What are you standing around for? Go find him!” Shouted the lead one angrily.

The dozen cultists scattered like leaves. Before the one who spoke out could leave, the lead figure turned to him. “Master?”

“Make sure the intruder does not stumble into the temple. If so you may wish Vermicus takes your head before I get my hands on you!”

“Yes master…” Grunted the cultist.

The dozen cultists took up a number of the weapons laying about and began to move out of the cavern, with a number of the orcs following them. It wouldn’t take them long to find him now. Even if he went back the way he came, he’d still have to deal with the wall of scorpions.

“Tyco it to Weetabix and back!” Muttered Throg. It seemed he would have to do something drastic…

J-18 Port Ravlin, Western Westernian Port city

Pyriuss sat mulling the day’s events over a mug of ale. Before he and his following could depart the city, a huge storm came out of nowhere. The eleven of them elected unanimously to press on and complete there mission. They were Knights of the Shadow after all. After a brisk fifteen minutes walk, the light sprinkle turned into a brutal gale. He had no choice but to pull his squad back to the city. Their Sergeant, Krelian or something like that, suggested they kept going, but after all of them had almost drowned at least once, he reconsidered.

The storm wouldn’t let up either, if anything it got worse. The denizens of Ravlin, both clean and filthy were forced to crowd together under the same ceilings. Waves weaved through the winding streets, miraculously causing little damage or lose of life. The shipping industry was spared too. The storm seemed only capable of making Pyriuss late for his mission.

Before he knew it, he had spent two days in the same inn. Truly a memorable experience, his fellow Shadow Knights would not mix with their commander. Instead they spent Mephistar knows how many hours mediating for when they would join battle with the enemy. There was no one of interest to talk to in that particular inn, so Pyriuss committed himself to polishing his armour around the clock.

Staring into the contents of his cup, he noticed something. The rain had completely stopped. Taking a cautious step outside he peered around. The cobblestone roads were still streams, water dripped from buildings like waterfalls. But it was safe to leave now.

Thumping up the stairs he forced a door opening. Half of his men seemed to be locked in a state of meditation. “You lot, snap out of it. The rain has stopped, we’re moving out.” The Shadow Knights simply blinked and began to gather their things.

Unnerved by the lack of contact, Pyriuss walked over to the next room. This time the Shadow Knights were already preparing to leave. One by one, they filed out, just leaving one remaining in the room. Pyriuss recognised him as the squad’s sarge ant. “Krelian?”

The sergeant didn’t make eye contact, but instead peered out of thin slit like window. “We are moving out are we not?”

“Yes.” Replied Pyriuss simply.

“There will be few other distractions now. Soon we shall tread on the soil of the fallen kingdom and set our eyes upon lair of the traitors…”

Pyriuss shifted uneasily at the prospect. “Right. If nobody does anything stupid we should make it back to Kinopokar in one piece.”

The sergeant continued to stare out the window. “We are prepared to do our duty. It is you who are to be tested.”

Pyriuss shivered at the thought of his last conversation with the Vindicator. “Tested?”