Noble Order of the Knights of Prasden

[Napoleon]

Feel free to leave comments or questions.

This story is a prequel to the Castleland Jarithian War story. It tells about how the Noble Order of the Knights of Prasden founded the country of Ruratainia. I am just doing this story in my spare time, so don't expect updates every day, as I will be focusing on the Group Story whole-heartedly. But anyway, here we go!

CHAPTER 1
A Monster on the Loose!

John, a soldier in the army of the first Duke of Bloxford, woke about midnight to the sound of screaming and shouting. Hurriedly dressing, he grabbed his sword and prepared to rush out of his barracks. "That's odd," he thought, "What are the men doing outside?" A wave of speculations hit his brain at once. " Rioting? Hanging? Insurrection?"

As he sprinted out onto the street, he was greeted with peasants, armed with farming tools, pushing against a line of his fellow soldiers.

"What is all this about?!" John asked a fellow soldier named Patrick.

"Oh, John!" Patrick exclaimed, "They say there is a monster on the loose!" he continued as his face grew pale, "They've gone batty with fright, they have!"

"A...monster?" John responded in disbelief.

"Oh, aye! A sorta 'wolfman,' or somethin'!"

Another soldier stepped forward and removed his crested iron helmet, " Now, Patrick, me boy, don't you go believin' in them stories. 'Tis their imagination and nothin else."

"How would you know, Sarge?"

"Yeah!" yelled a peasant, "Maybe YOU are the creature and are trying to fool us inta gettin' off yer scent!" he said accusingly.

"Now that's enough!" the Sarge yelled, " Corporal!" he addressed to his second-in-command, "Disperse the crowd!"

The corporal nodded, put his helmet on, and motioned for the men to proceed. The peasants backed down and started running in all directions as the soldiers arrested the mob's leaders.

[Napoleon]

Monster on the Loose: Part 2

After dispersing the crowd...

John and Patrick rode their horses down the quiet, empty, dark streets. All the villagers had locked their doors and closed their shutters. Silently, a full moon looked down from the sky through the dense fog while rain came down at a steady trickle and turned all of the dirt roads to mud.

"I say that it's them Fright Knights!" said Patrick, breaking the gloomy silence.

"Now what reason would those honorable gentlemen have for causing us trouble?"

"What REASON!"

John rolled his eyes, "I was being sarcastic," he said.

"Oh," said Patrick, calming himself. The duo then continued down the street.

John drifted into deep thought, "What was all this monster stuff about?" he asked himself in his thoughts,"If it wasn't real, then who could so easily create something that could terrify the townsfolk so easily? Who?" John realized that "who" was the real question, "Someone had to have made it all up; they HAD to have made it up!" John reassured himself, "After all, wolfmen were as impossible as a leprachaun riding a unicorn pulling a wagon-load of sasquatches!" John grinned at the thought, "I'll get to the bottom of this...I swear it!"

[Napoleon]

Monster on the Loose: Part 3

"So you think the Fright Knights might be behind this? Hoaxing us?" John asked Patrick. While listening to Patrick go on and on about his monster theories, John reached back and took his canteen out of his saddlebag. He took a few sips and reached back to put it back; he dropped it, and unsaddled to retrieve it out of the deep mud.

Patrick continued,"Oh, aye! Those Fright Knights are sorcerers. Or at least I heard tell that they're sorcerers."

All of a sudden, a lightning bolt lit up the sky, followed by a violent crack of thunder, and then another flash. John looked up for a minute, and then continued to try to find his canteen in the deep mud.

And then, when another flash came, Patrick let out a shriek of horror and his horse reared back! “JOHN! I saw IT!”

“What?” John, in his search, had turned opposite of Patrick, and missed what he had seen.

'The monster, by thunder!” he screamed in a terrified reply, “We must warn the others!”

“Right!” agreed John,”Go alert the others while I keep a lookout,” he ordered while drawing his sharp curved sword.

Patrick rode frantically through the streets toward the barracks. Upon arriving, his horse was froathing at the mouth and promptly collapsed. Patrick rushed through the guard posts and slammed on the door of sleeping sergeant's hut.

“Yeah, yeah, comin',” muttered Sarge as he opened the door,“Oh, what is it, me boy? Ye look like you seen a ghost!”

“Not a ghost!” replied a very sweaty Patrick, ”The Monster!”

“Where?” asked Sarge skeptically.

“Down by the town square. Hurry!”

“All right, all right, Pat. Looks like I'ma not goin' to get any sleep anyway. Call the men!”

“Aye, sir!” saluted Patrick briskly. When Patrick blew a small horn that he always carried with him, the soldiers dashed out of their bunks and mounted their steeds.

'To the town square...forward!” ordered the Sarge. The twenty mounted Bloxfordian troops galloped out of the gates to investigate Patrick's find.

When the garrison arrived, they found John staring into a dense cluster of small trees and bushes.

“See anything, Johnny?” Sarge asked curiously.

“I...well...yes,” John stammered, ''Or... at least I thought so. Though I can't sure. I thought I saw some...eyes... looking at me from the thicket over there.

“Now Johnny, Johnny, Johnny...'' started the Sarge while looking at the thicket, ''This is a perfect example of 'mass hysteria;' first one bloke claims to see somethin', and then someone else chimes in, and soon that someone's friend hears tell about it and has an 'encounter'; and the whole time, the 'creature' is gettin' bigger, scarier, and more blood-thirsty as it passes from person to person, until a whole town (or even a city, for that matter) is rioting in the streets. Is tha what you want? Now there is no 'monster,' 'big-foot,' or 'wolfman' in that thicket.”

“I'm tellin' you, Sarge,” said Patrick frustratingly, “I saw somethin'! John's seen somethin' now, too!
I say we burn it...just to make sure!” A unanimous chorus of agreements arose from the crowd of soldiers.

“Are ye MAD!" screamed Sarge, “We're not burnin' anything!” he scolded, “That is another symptom of mass hysteria! Folks get together and agree to start burnin' things. First, they burn somethin' small, like a shed or an outhouse, and then they move on to burnin' other, larger, more important things, like houses. Once that's done with, they burn down orphanages and schoolhouses! Now, ye've got an angry crowd of monster huntin' pyromaniacs! What's next? Would ye like me to burn down the Duke's castle? Torchin' orphanages ain't good enough for ye anymore, eh?!”

Patrick stared in disbelief at the Sarge's long-winded puffery, “Sarge! I ain't askin' you to barbecue orphans. I ain't even askin' you to burn a shed! Just a thicket. That's all.”

“Tell ye what,” started the Sarge, “I'll go in that thicket and prove to you nit-wits that there ain't no monsters in it.”

“Sarge...Be careful,” warned John.

“Aye,” he answered. His men then watched him disappear head-first into the thicket.

“See anything Sarge?” asked Corporal Phillip,”Sarge?” he asked again after a long silence.

Suddenly, a terrible howl sounded from the thicket and a massive creature came streaking out of it; the Sarge's blood on it's paws.

“Gods in Heaven protect us!” shrieked Phillip as the wolfman ripped through two of the soldiers.

Kill it, men!” ordered John, “ATTACK!”

The monster killed five more before turning to John, “You have not seen the last of me,” it growled as it turned and ran away.

“Someone tell me that thing didn't just...talk,'' Patrick asked, disgusted.

[Seikfreid]

Looks good so far, keep going! I'm interested in finding out who is behind the monster, if it truly is a monster.

[Napoleon]

Looks good so far, keep going! I'm interested in finding out who is behind the monster, if it truly is a monster.

Thanks for the compliment! Oh, yeah! I'm totally going to keep going. Here comes the next update; hope ya like it, too.

CHAPTER 2
The Search for Answers

One week after Sarge's death...

John readied a few of his belongings and headed out of his barracks. A division of Bloxfordian troops had arrived in town to help keep the citizens calm... or at least under control... sort of.... John was about to go to the lands of Lord Basil. The Fright Knights were a dangerous breed; they were fierce warriors and they were known to dabble in sorcery. John was confident that they were behind the monster.

But first, he had to say good-bye to his family. He might be gone for quite a long while, and he would miss them dearly. As he opened the door to his small, one story house ( that he only stayed at during the weekends) his son of 15 years, Bruce, and his wife, Susan, were waiting for him. They both knew of the perilous journey that he was about to undertake and dreaded that he might not come back. After talking for a few hours, John was ready to get started. His son loaded a sack with food and put it on John's horse outside. Little did Bruce know that a pair of blood-thirsty eyes were watching him from a group of nearby trees.

“Not yet...” the eyes' owner said to himself, “I am after bigger prey.”

John, Susan, and Bruce once more stood inside their house. Susan readied a pig's bladder full of water and walked outside to put that on the horse.

“Hmmnnn...” the lurker thought, “At least it is an adult... and dear to the Soldier! I will attack!”

Susan watched in horror as the beast rose up and readied his razor-sharp claws to kill her. She let out a brief shriek as the claws descended for a killing blow.

John and Bruce heard the scream and rushed outside. There, they saw the monster kneeling over Susan's body.

“I told you that you hadn't seen the last of me, Soldier!” it howled.

“Bruce, get in the house...NOW!” John ordered while pulling out his sword, ”Why do you hate me, creature?”

The Werewolf grinned evilly and said “Because... I need someone to hate. I love to hate no-good do-gooders like you! See ya!” it turned and ran off into the wilderness.

“Come back here beast!” John demanded while picking up his wife's body, “COME BACK HERE YOU FILTHY DEVIL!” John screamed, “COME BACK HERE!”

[Seikfreid]

Interesting twist now that you have John's personal life involved. One of the best ways to develop characters' personalities is to show their actions around those they love. Great addition to the story!

[Napoleon]

Interesting twist now that you have John's personal life involved. One of the best ways to develop characters' personalities is to show their actions around those they love. Great addition to the story!

Thanks, Seikfreid! I just went over the story and corrected some typos; does it look better? I am not sure where I am going with the introduction of Pyotr and Hilda in this post. I took a little inspiration from old westerns; the hero starving in the wilderness, stumbles, condors/vultures, gets rescued by family, you get the idea.

I think soon I will be borrowing the classic plot from The Seven Samurai/The Magnificent Seven. Have you seen either movie? It's plot is timeless; hero gets a pack of fellow heroes to save a village from roving outlaws/barbarians/desperadoes. Each hero has his own specialty/trait such as "violent one," "wise one," "overly-helpful one," "ruthless one," "sword/knife master one," "flashy one," etc. I figured it would work for this story, since it would be the first fantasy/medieval version of that plot that I've seen(and it's been used a lot).

The Search for Answers: Part 2

John got on top of his horse and headed off to the Fright Knights' territory.

After two and a half days of travelling John finally reached the lands of Basil.

The entire landscape changed to rugged, insurmountable mountains covered with dead plants and trees. He could here wolves howling and condors screeching; waiting for a lame animal or person to become their next meal. “I am not goin' to be a meal!” thought John, “I hope I can find a town before long.”

He took out a spyglass and scouted the countryside, “Nothing. I cannot understand why anyone would want to call this Janzarr-forsaken waste-of- creation a home; not even Basil,” He muttered. Again, he saddled his horse and continued on his way.

After another day, he was running low on water and food; the next day, he was completely out.

John stumbled along. His horse could no-longer bear him. Eventually, it collapsed and John put it out of it's misery. Here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, no food, no water, no nothing. One good thing, however, was that it wasn't hot. The Fright Knights' lands were inexplicably cold. Even without roasting, though, he collapsed in exaustion. He stared up at the sky and was ready to give up, when he heard the sound of hooves. Too tired to care, he just lied there.

The next morning, he woke up on a bed. Staring at him was a grey-haired man and a dark-haired young woman.

“Hello, Herr Stranger,” greeted the man, “How do you feel?”

“All right, I suppose. Who are you?”

“I am Gustav von Batson, and this is my daughter Hilda,” he said. Just then, a man of about 28 years of age; about four years younger than John, walked into the room.

“Hello,” said the man. John could tell it was Gustav's son.

“This is my son, Pyotr. He helped Hilda bring you here. She vas the one who found you,” added Gustav.

“Well, thank you very much, but I must be going,” said John sincerely.

“No. You are too veak to travel unprotected.”

“I could go vith him, vather,” said Pyotr eagerly.

“Why can't I go unprotected?” asked John quizzically.

“Because, there are less-than-friendly things out there, Herr...” Hilda trailed off, waiting for John to introduce himself.

“John. Just John. What kind of 'things?'”

“Eh...monsters,” said Gustav nervously.

“Let me and Hilda go with him, vather. Please?” asked Pyotr once again.
“What kind of monsters?” John interrupted.

“Oh, vell, there are vampires, giant lizards, and of course the casual sasquatch,” answered Gustav.

John's eyes bulged out of their sockets, “Wolfmen?”

“Don't be silly! There haven't been volfmen in a 1000 years!” giggled Hilda.

“1000?” asked John, confused.

“The evil wizard Marius created volfmen to serve in his army. That's how the Volfpack got established; the original members of the group vere real volfmen. However, after Marius's fall, the organization almost disbanded. However, regular humans soon joined, and after 500 years, it became purely human,” Gustav explained.

“I see,” said John.

“I guess you and Hilda could go vith him, if he so desires,” Gustav finally answered Pyotr.

“Thank you, vather,” in a few minutes, Gustav put on his hunting clothes and sharpened some knives and Hilda put on an armoured coat over her faded black shirt and pants. In a few more minutes, the group was ready to get going.

John and the brother and sister rode off with four horses and a pack mule, “So vhere exactly should ve head to?” asked Pytor.

“Basil's castle,” John answered solemnly.

Hilda's eyes widened and Pyotr looked at John skeptically, “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes. I believe that Basil is behind the creation of the wolfman who killed my wife and sergeant.”

“Oh, I am sorry. But remember, there haven't been any volfmen in a thousand years.”

“Yeah.”

[Seikfreid]

Thanks, Seikfreid! I just went over the story and corrected some typos; does it look better? I am not sure where I am going with the introduction of Pytor and Hilda. I took a little inspiration from old westerns; the hero starving in the wilderness, stumbles, condors/vultures, gets rescued by family, you get the idea.

I think soon I will be borrowing the classic plot from The Seven Samurai/The Magnificent Seven. Have you seen either movie? It's plot is timeless; hero gets a pack of fellow heroes to save a village from roving outlaws/barbarians/desperadoes. Each hero has his own specialty/trait such as "violent one," "wise one," "overly-helpful one," "ruthless one," "sword/knife master one," "flashy one," etc. I figured it would work for this story, since it would be the first fantasy/medieval version of that plot that I've seen(and it's been used a lot).

I think the corrections look good. I can see the inspiration from the western film in the beginning of this post. No, I haven't seen either movie. OK, I get the general plot of the movies, though. I think this is a great way to develop your characters: by basing each character's supporting traits off of their one main trait, you get characters that are more realistic and alive than in many other cases. I find that developing characters by using "central traits" allows me to better connect myself to them, leading to scenarios where I can think, "Now, what would John do here?" and write down the answer. This makes story writing easier for you and better for your audience. Keep up the good work!

[Napoleon]

Thanks, Seikfreid! I just went over the story and corrected some typos; does it look better? I am not sure where I am going with the introduction of Pytor and Hilda. I took a little inspiration from old westerns; the hero starving in the wilderness, stumbles, condors/vultures, gets rescued by family, you get the idea.

I think soon I will be borrowing the classic plot from The Seven Samurai/The Magnificent Seven. Have you seen either movie? It's plot is timeless; hero gets a pack of fellow heroes to save a village from roving outlaws/barbarians/desperadoes. Each hero has his own specialty/trait such as "violent one," "wise one," "overly-helpful one," "ruthless one," "sword/knife master one," "flashy one," etc. I figured it would work for this story, since it would be the first fantasy/medieval version of that plot that I've seen(and it's been used a lot).

I think the corrections look good. I can see the inspiration from the western film in the beginning of this post. No, I haven't seen either movie. OK, I get the general plot of the movies, though. I think this is a great way to develop your characters: by basing each character's supporting traits off of their one main trait, you get characters that are more realistic and alive than in many other cases. I find that developing characters by using "central traits" allows me to better connect myself to them, leading to scenarios where I can think, "Now, what would John do here?" and write down the answer. This makes story writing easier for you and better for your audience. Keep up the good work!

I just corrected some more mistakes, so I think it is pretty proper spelling and grammer now. It's a shame you haven't seen the movies. I have yet to see The Seven Samurai(it seems pretty rare, since it is a Japanese film), but I have seen The Magnificent Seven probably about 20 times in the last two months; I have yet to tire of it. Both have been named the best movies ever made by many critics. When they made TMS, the filmmakers called it "the western version of The Seven Samurai."

Well, I am going to start on the next entry to the story tomorrow.

EDIT:Update has been postponed until further notice. I am a little to busy today, so probably tomorrow.

[Seikfreid]

I just corrected some more mistakes, so I think it is pretty proper spelling and grammer now. It's a shame you haven't seen the movies. I have yet to see The Seven Samurai(it seems pretty rare, since it is a Japanese film), but I have seen The Magnificent Seven probably about 20 times in the last two months; I have yet to tire of it. Both have been named the best movies ever made by many critics. When they made TMS, the filmmakers called it "the western version of The Seven Samurai."

It must be an excellent movie, then! There are only a few of those I could watch that much and not tire of. I will try to get my hands on a copy soon.

Well, I am going to start on the next entry to the story tomorrow.

EDIT:Update has been postponed until further notice. I am a little to busy today, so probably tomorrow.

Sounds good, I look forward to reading it.

[Napoleon]

Really huge addition this time! Enjoy.

The Search for Answers: Part 3

For over half the day, the trio didn't have any problems. Getting more comfortable with their surroundings, the two men fell into idle chatter about the latest methods for catching deer. They did not notice that Hilda had taken the wrong way on the last two-way fork in the densely-vegetated road. She soon found herself lost, and she, panicking, quickly started yelling for help. It was of no use, though; all the natural rock walls muffled her shouts. But she was heard by someone, or somethings. A pack of ravenous wolves had come down from the mountain side after the recent wind-storms destroyed their regular hunting-grounds. A nice, juicy human was just what they wanted.

With loud howls, the pack surrounded Hilda from all sides. She knew how to hunt and kill, as any citizen of the Fright Knight territories should, but she could not hold them off for long. One of the wolves suddenly attacked her horse, and she plugged its head with an arrow. Do not be fooled; she was not calm or steady. On the contrary, she was quickly “losing her cool.”

The wolves were now all around her. As soon as she shot one, another took its place. It was clear she had no hope of survival.

Just as the pack was ready to attack all-out, a man dressed in chain mail suddenly and dramatically appeared, hacking away at the swarms of wolves. One wolf tried to bite his leg, but it was dead before its jaws even closed. Hilda watched in awe as the man picked up a wolf, grabbed its mouth, and sprung its jaws; killing it.

Soon, only five wolves remained. One circled around to try to bite him in the back, while three others distracted him. The other was the pack leader, and watched on, anticipating the man's death.

Hilda saw what was about to happen, and dismounted. Pulling out her sword, she slowly advanced. When she attacked, the man saw his chance. In less than a second, Hilda jumped in front of him, and killed one of the wolves, while he spun around and stabbed the one that was to bite him in the back.

When the pack leader and the two remaining wolves saw, they tried one last desperate measure: two jumped on Hilda and one ran between the man's legs to distract him. Hilda fought for her life. She pushed, shoved, and hit the wolves until they were bleeding. The man, seeing her predicament, wanted to help, but could not; she would have to fend for herself.

Right as the pack leader was about to bite her throat, she kicked it in the chest. Momentarily off-balance, the leader fell down. The other continued, but finally, Hilda managed to pull out a dagger from her belt and stab it in the neck. By the time the leader had risen, Hilda was aiming her bow. With a loud yelp, the leader fell to an arrow to the forehead.

Hilda now aimed at the wolf attacking her rescuer. She realized, though, that she couldn't fire without the risk of hitting the man. She watched closely as the wolf kept hitting the man. Before the man could kill, however, the wolf darted away from his sword. Finally, he landed the sword right down on the middle of the wolf's head. It died instantly.

After the last wolf's death, Hilda ran over to the man, “Thank you! Who are you?”

“Yes, that certainly was exciting, wasn't it? The name's Steven. Who might you be, fair lady? And what, if you pardon the expression, in the name of the Gods are you doing in this neck of the woods?” he responded almost cheerfully.

“I am Hilda von Batson, and I vas traveling with my brother and a friend, when I guess I just took a wrong turn,” she answered while wiping blood off her neck and face.

“Wrong turn, eh? It happens, but you want it to happen here. There are many wolves, snakes, and other dangerous things here. I have lived out here in the forest for ten years, but not in this part of the forest! It was fortunate for you that I was out hunting today, because I had half a mind to do it tomorrow,” he chuckled grimly, “How far away would you say your friends are now?”

“Oh, I don't know for sure, but they probably noticed me gone and are coming back to this area,” she said.

“Oh, then! It shouldn't be hard to find them. Mind if I use your horse?” he asked.

“Certainly not,” she replied. He quickly mounted the steed and she sat behind him.

After ten minutes of riding, they finally found Pyotr and John.

“Vell, vell, vell!” started Pyotr in his Fright Knight accent, “Look who is back, John.”

John grinned and said, “Did the damsel in distress get rescued? She did! And who are you, sir?”

“Steven is my name. From what she told me, your names are John and Pyotr.”

After Hilda and Steven finished explaining the whole ordeal to John and Pyotr, John asked “Would you like to tag along with us?”

Steven looked surprised, “Well, I don't have much to live for now. 'Only own a small little log house in the woods yonder...Yeah, sure I'll go with you. 'Don't have anything else to live for.”

[Napoleon]

The Search for Answers: Part 4

As the four heroes rode off, unknowingly followed by two riders.

That night, John and his friends pitched their tents and made camp.

John tossed and turned that night. He was haunted by images of his dead wife, the monster with Sarge's blood on its paws, and his son, Bruce, all alone. Even today, John almost lost a friend to actual wolves. Suddenly, John heard someone walking sneakily outside.

John drew his sword and carefully went outside. He saw a rather short figure guiding a horse and he spied another, mounted, figure about fifteen yards off. John quietly crept up behind the walking figure and held his sword to his neck.

“Who be ye, knave?” John demanded.

“John! It's...it's me: Patrick!” the figure said.

John grabbed the man and turned him around to face him, “By Janzaar! What are you doing here? You musn't sneak around like that. Why, I could've batted that head of your's right off your shoulders!” he scolded.

“Sorry, John! But I've been chasin' you for the past two days. I just got here and I was lookin' for a place to sleep until mornin'. Why, me and Bruce were exhausted!” Patrick explained.

“What!” John shouted in anger, “Bruce! You brought him HERE?!”

Bruce, the “mounted figure,” rode over.

“Well, John,” Patrick started nervously, “He volunteered! I told him NOT to come! But, he... wouldn't listen to me. He's not my son, and I be only five years older than he, so it's not like he must obey me or somethin'.”

I wanted to come,” Bruce said simply.

“Ah, well...you'll just be two more people to look out for,” moaned John.

The other three in John's camp woke up and came out of their tents.

“I've been listening; why not let 'em stay?” asked Steven while yawning loudly.

“Oh...um,” John stammered, sat down on a log, thought everything over, and gave his answer: “Yes...you both can stay, but do try to stay out of trouble.” Patrick and Bruce gave each other a thumbs-up.

Now, John had five people.

John – The Leader
Pyotr – The Smart One
Steven – The Tough One
Patrick – The Overly-helpful One
Hilda – The Kind One
Bruce – The Flashy One

[Seikfreid]

Nice touch adding in the list of character traits. I can see the development of the story, but it is not predictable so it still retains an element of suspense. Keep it up!

[Napoleon]

The next update is coming tomorrow. So, unless something big happens, see ya tomorrow.

[Napoleon]

The most important post yet!

The Search for Answers: Part 5

In the morning, the newly-enlarged group mounted their steeds and continued the journey.

“Lord Basil's castle is pretty close. We should be there by noon,” Steven announced to them all.

“Good. I want to talk to that man. And I want to know if that creepy horror theatre drop-out is behind that monster that killed my officer and wife,” said John.

Around noon:

John's group heard the thundering of hooves nearby. Suddenly, a group of armed cavalrymen came galloping out of the dead, leafless woods on the right side of the road. The soldiers had crimson tunics that came down to their knees and gleaming armour and helmets. The group blocked the road in front of John and his friends and the cavalry's leader trotted over to the travelers, “Halt, strangers!” he boomed in a commanding voice, “State your business!”

“We will if you tell us who you are,” responded John.

The leader took of his red-plumed helmet and answered, “I am Cornelius Davius, centurion in Lord Basil's army. State your business,” he repeated.

John then proceeded to name his companions. After that he told Davius that he wanted to see Lord Basil.

Davius turned to his men and said, “Altius disius publicus arnatius. Centius karanus diskusius.”

“What was that?” Bruce asked Hilda.

“He told the soldiers that they vill escort us to the castle,” she said. It was lucky that Hilda and Pyotr were present, for John, Bruce, Patrick, and Steven probably would have thought Davius was giving a signal to attack.

“Follow us,” said Davius.

“Funny...” Bruce whispered to Hilda, “I wonder how they knew where we were? Not that I believe in all that Fright Knight crystal ball mumbojumbo, but it is kinda eerie. Almost as though they had been watching us.”

“Vell,” Hilda began, “They say that Basil's vife, Baroness Lotte, has a vay of seeing the whole kingdom by use of some magical device.”

The group, now under escort by the soldiers, headed off toward the castle. After an a half-hour, they arrived.

The castle was extremely scary-looking. Frightening gargoyles lined the walls. Graves surrounded the castle. Everywhere, there were graves.

“Looks like Lord Basil doesn't care too terribly much about exterior decorating,” Steven chuckled grimly as he looked at one of the pumpkin lanterns that were rampant throughout the castle's grounds.

After they entered the castle, they were guided to Lord Basil's chambers. It was much cleaner than the rest of the castle. Actually, it was spotless. Lord Basil sat on a large, padded chair and his wife, the Baroness, stood nearby. Basil's looks matched his reputation: evil. He had a black tunic, a cape, and a slicked-back widow's peak. His wife also had a black tunic and a widow's peak. Both were about forty.

“Birds of a feather flock together,” Pyotr whispered to John.

John looked at the lord and the baroness and said to them: “I am John. These are my friends Steven, Pyotr, Patrick, and Hilda. And this is my son Bruce,” each bowed slightly to the royal family, “I have trekked many, many miles to ask you something: did you create the wolfman that killed my wife and a fellow soldier?”

“Wolfman?” Basil asked nervously, “There are no wolfmen.”

“Tell that to my dead wife. It exists all right. And I think you and your...sorceress over there created it!”

“How dare you, sir? I told you that there are not supposed to be any left!” Basil shouted, “But my wife has been telling me that there are stories of a wolfman roaming around your country. If so, there is only one thing that can kill it.”

“What's that?” John asked.

“A special golden arrow. A VERY hard-to-make arrow. I will not just give you one. To earn one, I want you to do something for me...”

TO BE CONTINUED....