Classic-Castle Roleplay: January 2006

[TheOrk]

Grid: P-19
Karond Kar the Tower of Despair, former Kingdom of Ankoria

Ten minutes past. Throg lead his band of orcs up through a winding pathway in the camp. The jagged rocks split the landscape all around them. It gave the camp the appearance of slums from some great city, orc and goblin shanties stood perched precariously on each rock, with mounds of garbage in between. For a moment, Throg looked over at the Shadow Knight camp enviously, before grunting and turning back to his troops.

They had begun to set up four tents, three long ones in a row and a smaller square one behind them. Each tent was of Black Falcon make, their previous occupants would have no need of them any longer. Each was large enough to comfortably house ten of the hulking orcs and all of their equipment. The fourth tent was Throg’s, anyone else who might have wanted that much extra space could come and ask for it…

“Oi Sklob n’ Frob! Get over here” Throg muttered looking around for his lieutenants.

“What be the problem boss?” Grunted Frob.

Frob was the second biggest orc in the band, he looked bigger because he was encased in ebony euro armour, a heavily notched axe dragged in the dirt behind him. The other orc lieutenant, Sklob was the third biggest orc there. He had plain leather armour and a wicked longbow strung across his back. Both orcs were loyal to Throg, but if he should show a lot of weakness for some reason, he didn’t doubt they wouldn’t hesitate to put a dagger in his back. The only orc in living and unliving memory to not have to rely on fear was long dead.

“What be yer wantin’ boss?” Asked Sklob walking over.

“I’s gonna go walk around the camp n’ see the condition of our new allies.” Replied Throg.

The two orcs and another close enough to hear the conversation all blinked, few orcs could keep a sentence going for that long without sounding unintelligent. “If ye say so boss.” Replied Sklob.

“I wants you to come with me though.” Said Throg as he turned to leave.

“If ye wantin’ that, then sure.” Said Sklob throwing down a sack.

“Frob?”

“Boss?”

“Guard the camp, most of these orcs dun’t look like the trustful type, Stick any of dem who have butter fingers.” With that Throg turned to leave.

Frob smiled “If ye say so boss.”

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

“I will never understand the female sex.” stated Adrian dryly.

Hans grinned. “You don’t have to understand ’em to like ’em.”

Grid: M-7
Location: Drullen Bell Keep

The trio left the next day. With packs slung on their backs (to be soon deposited upon the backs of their three steeds), Hans, Adrian and Cate said their thanks and goodbyes to Lord Bjarn personally.

“Let me know as soon as possible when you find your One Brick.” said Bjarn, pumping Adrian’s hand.

“Don’t worry, we will.” Hans promised.

“And come and visit anytime.” said Bjarn, “I’m going to be bored without your three, with Sir Dractor and Thomas gone off and all.”

“Ginny promised she’d stop by as often as possible.” said Hans.

Bjarn’s eyes twinkled. Adrian winced, but Cate immediately groped from Hans’ hand. She clasped her hand in his and said sweetly, “That will be nice. Well, goodbye Bjarn!”

Bjarn barely restrained a chuckle.

“Farewell, you three.”

He gave the Sign Of The Elk. Adrian returned it, and Hans tried to, but Cate was still clasping his hand firmly. As they turned their backs and crunched through the snow to the stables, Gonderin materialized out of the shadows.

“I am not sorry to see the back of that lady.” the elf said quietly, staring fixedly ahead.

Bjarn did chuckle this time.

“I think Cate’s got herself quite occupied for the time being.” he said, “So you need not worry Gonderin.”

“Thank Chodan.”

Bjarn could barely hear the elf’s reply, but it made the old Elk Man grin.

[The Green Knight]

Lord Void rose from the table, and held out the crystal before him.

"I think it's time to contact my most loyal servant. Caimlin has no idea I'm still alive, so this could be quite amusing."

Japheth and Elbadar glanced at each other. Lord Void was planning on open war between the Isles and the Mainland, was he?

“Show me Caimlin!” Lord Void commanded and the crystal soon cleared to reveal the inside of Drock’s home on Monilious Dracis. Two men were seated at a wooden table in the center of the room. It had been three and a half months since the Dragon Isles seceded and Caimlin was once again taking council with the isles other governor.

Lord Void listened.

“…I don’t know Drock,” it was Caimlin speaking, “My contact on the mainland tells me there are no signs that Ajaxx is planning an attack on the islands. No unusual troop deployments, no increased enlistment of the masses… It looks as though all my preparations may have been for nothing.”

Caimlin was referring of course, to the actions he’s taken to prepare for what he believed would be an imminent attack upon the two islands. All the forces he’d gathered and defenses he’d raised seemed to be without purpose now. Caimlin had assumed you see, along with many others that even though war was never officially declared, Ajaxx would not be long in trying to reclaim what he viewed as his.

Drock chuckled. “I could have saved you the trouble, you know that. For myself, I haven’t done anything to prepare for whatever that traitor is going to throw at us. At least nothing beyond notifying the diviners and stargazers of the isle to be on the watch. If any attack is to be made, Caimlin, they will know long before your informant. In truth my friend, I am very little concerned with what Ajaxx may be planning. You’re free to continue watching and waiting, but I will go on with my life, Caimlin, and let war come when it may. I have an appointment tomorrow with Sikopar the great sea turtle…”

“Humph.” Said Lord Void, growing disinterested in the conversation as it began to veer into other territory. “I think it’s time to interrupt...”
~
Meanwhile, back in the home of Drock, the sorcerer had finished discussing his plans for the next day and was fixing on a new topic of conversation.

“Have you ever considered getting married, Caimlin?”

When that sentence reached his brain, the steady Caimlin almost died of shock. You see, there are certain things you never expect to hear from certain people and Caimlin had just heard one of those things.

“Hassawah?” the befuddled Dragon Master stammered.

“My ancestors have ruled this isle for generations, Caimlin." Drock continued undeterred. "I always thought it would be Jarvick’s job to produce an heir for that legacy, but now that he’s gone it has fallen to me. You know, even after he left I didn’t let it trouble me, but ever since we declared the isles their own country the need to continue my line has become more obvious. I—

The sorcerer trailed off as he realized that Caimlin wasn’t listening anymore. “Blasted teleharms.” He grumbled, scowling at Caimlin’s closed eyelids. Drock didn’t like being interrupted. “And what’s he grinning about anyway?”

[Formendacil]

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington

"Don't bother!" said Gherry, who was bundled up and clutching his cane. "I'm off to Melkan's. I've had enough of women's gossip for one day."

And knowing that Thomas Valt would be all the talk over supper, Old Gherry left the widows to eat their meal in peace.

Old Gherry was as good as his word. He set out across the alley to the healer's house, from which the smells of a delicious supper were wafting. It wasn't Melkan's cooking. After a lifetime of living alone, he was an adequate cook, but Alice and Dale were over for supper, and it was Alice who was cooking.

"Why, Gherry!" said Alice, as he entered the house, via the kitchen backdoor, unannounced. "What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

"I've got a bone to pick with the healer," said Gherry.

"Gherry, is that you?" said Melkan, entering the kitchen with Dale. "You'll stay for supper, I hope."

"Certainly, certainly," said Gherry, easing himself into a chair. "Babs has all the gossip circle over, and I'd just as soon not listen to an evening of malicious hearsay about young Valt and his lady friend."

"Is he a noteable person here?" asked Dale. "I've heard his name a couple times, and the entire village was out to see him, it looked like."

"He left," said Alice. "That's enough to make any Hemmeringtoner noteable in the village. But Thomas was always a nice boy."

"His grandfather was the old blacksmith," explained Melkan. "and quite famous in his own way. Thomas became a squire to a knight after his grandfather's death, and has been gone for seven or eight months now."

"Not everyone had their eyes on Thomas Valt," said Gherry. "Or on his companions. At least one person wasn't."

"And who was that?" asked Alice.

"Melkan here," said Gherry, "was more interested in Brian Broughton. He grabbed him off the street pretty quickly."

"I guess that Melkan wasn't the only one not watching Thomas," laughed Alice, "if you were watching him. What did you want Brian for, Melkan?"

"Oh, just to ask how his trip was," said Melkan evasively.

"And maybe that trip was taken at Melkan's urging," said Gherry.

Melkan glared at Gherry.

"You are a nosy old man, Gherry," he said, "did you know that?"

"Babs has mentioned it a few times," nodded Gherry, pleased with himself.

"What DID you want Brian for?" asked Alice.

"Do you remember that Fright Knight who came to the village back in September, looking for Harold Brakespear's papers?" said Melkan. "Well, it appears that he's back. Arvey caught sight of him and a company of Fright Knight soldiers camped in the woods, and he's sent spies into the village, asking about Brakespear's papers. I was afraid that if he didn't find them, he'd come against the village with his men, so I sent Brian after Thomas, hoping that he'd bring him back with his knight. When I didn't see him, I grabbed Brian for an explanation. Apparently the knight, Sir Dractor I think it was, is off to Orion, before rejoining Thomas here in a month or so. A month! That's too long. The Fright Knight is going to lose his patience long before that, I think."

"Why don't you just give them the papers?" asked Alice. "Surely there's nothing so serious about them."

"I think there might be," said Melkan. "Harold was a pretty important man before he retired here, and the importance that these Fright Knights attach to them makes me worry. Besides, they are Thomas' papers, not mine."

"But would you put the village at risk, rather than surrender them?" said Dale.

"No," said Melkan. "That's why I wanted Thomas's knight to come. He's a formidable warrior, apparently. But since he didn't... Well, at least I can give the papers to Thomas, for him to deal with."

"I wouldn't be so sure that you have to give those papers up," said Gherry. "Thomas has changed since he left. You could see it in the way he walked. And his muscles are harder too. He may be enough, with the help of his trapper friend and some of the village boys like the Korvalts, to keep those Fright Knights in their place."

"How could you see what Thomas was like," said Alice. "I thought your sight wasn't so good."

"Doesn't matter how fuzzy your sight is to see when a man holds himself different or that his shoulders have gotten wider. Besides, you could hear it, as well as see it, and there ain't nothing wrong with my hearing. Thomas Valt is a man now, not a boy, though the village don't know it yet."

"The village will be far too busy inventing scandalous stories about his ladyfriend to see that," said Melkan, "or at least some of the gossips, anyway. I hope no one takes it too far."

"If they do, it's Thomas' own fault," said Gherry. "I haven't seen a worse case of being moonstruck in thirty years- including the two young ones at the table."

Dale blushed and Alice laughed.

"Yessiree," said Gherry, "Mart Baldwin and Katha Arrins were right smitten and no mistake..."

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

"If they do, it's Thomas' own fault," said Gherry. "I haven't seen a worse case of being moonstruck in thirty years- including the two young ones at the table."

Dale blushed and Alice laughed.

"Yessiree," said Gherry, "Mart Baldwin and Katha Arrins were right smitten and no mistake..."

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington

Dale and Alice laughed. Mart and Katha Baldwin lived a few houses down. They were a delightful middle-aged couple, with two grown children.

“Seriously,” said Dale as he helped Alice set the table, “Who would take it out too far on Thomas? Sure the Korvalt boys sent many a glare my way when I first arrived, but everyone in Hemmerington aren’t exactly the hot-blooded type.

“There is nothing worse than a woman spurned.” pronounced Melkan, “Or girl, at least.”

Dale looked puzzled.

“It’s common knowledge Maeve MacDouglas has a thing for Thomas.” explained Gherry.

Dale laughed.

“Ah. I see. Then I don’t envy Thomas.”

“Nor should you.” said Alice, slipping her arm into Dale’s, “Come, it’s time to eat…”

***

Though Dale wasn’t envious of Thomas Valt at the moment, several young Hemmeringtons were. Among them were the three Korvalt boys and Maeve MacDouglas. The boys were more in awe of Thomas, and were clamoring to hear of his adventures. Since he was staying at Mistress Korvalt’s that night, they got just what they wanted. Maeve, however, was not in awe at all. Tucked away in her loft, she was already plotting her revenge.

***

The next morning ways a chilly one. Mothers bundles up their children with extra scarves, and sent them scurrying along to school, where Schoolmistress Maeghan waited. There was trouble when the schoolhouse stove wouldn’t light, and Dale happened to be passing when Schoolmistress Maeghan stuck her head out the schoolhouse door and hollowed, “Excuse me, Dale!”

Dale turned.

“Good morning, Molly.”

Molly Maeghan shivered theatrically, though not in pretence.

“It’ll be good when it warms up. The stove won’t light. I was wondering if you might have a look at it.”

“Of course.” said Dale, “But I can’t promise anything…”

Dale stamped snow off his boots at the doorstep and walked between the rows of small benches where shivering children sat. The black, cranky old iron-cast stove squatted in the middle of the one-room schoolhouse. It’s grate was open wide, and a partially charred log stuck out like a callow tongue. The was a smell of smoke in the air. Dale bent and examined the log.

“It would light for a moment, but when I shut the grate it would go out.” said Molly Maeghan.

“Hmm.” Dale shoved the log back into the stove, “Pipe might be blocked…I’ll see if Donald has a ladder I can borrow…”

A few minutes later, Dale was struggling through the snow dragging a ladder. He braced it against the side of the schoolhouse and began to climb.

“Hello…what seems to be the matter?”

Dale looked down. A man younger than himself with a hammer on his belt was looked up at Dale in a curious and friendly manner.

This must be Thomas Valt. thought Dale.

“The stove won’t stay lit.” said Dale, descending the ladder, “I think the pipe might be blocked.”

“Ah,” said Thomas, “Yes, it often did that. Soot buildup.”

They stood for a few seconds, then Dale stuck out his hand.

“I’m Dale Barrett. I’m a newcomer.”

“Thomas Valt. I grew up here…then I left for a while.”

Thomas turned and looked at the schoolhouse.

“Mind if I take a look?” asked Thomas, “I’ve had to clean out chimneys when I was younger. My grandfather was an arms smith. Amazing how much soot would build up.”

“Not at all.” said Dale, “I’d much rather have someone else try their luck on a snow-covered slanted roof.”

Thomas climbed up the ladder with agility and was soon peering down the pipe.

“Yup,” said, “Almost completely blocked. It needs a good cleaning. My grandfather used to have a good chimney sweep…I think the Whettons might have it now…”

“I’ll fetch it.” called Dale.

No sooner had he turned his back then Thomas let out a yell of surprise. Dale turned just in time to see Thomas toppled backwards down the roof. He slid for a few feet, then flew off into space and landed in a snow bank. Dale rushed over to him as the children inside the schoolhouse peered out the windows, curious about all the commotion.

“Are you alright?” asked Dale, pulled Thomas upright, “What happened?”

“Someone hit me with a snowball!” said Thomas furiously, “I lost my balance!”

***

Unseen by Dale and Thomas, Maeve MacDouglas slunk away, particles of snow sticking to her gloves.

[Formendacil]

Grid: H-11
Location: Dracis Ini

The sorcerer trailed off as he realized that Caimlin wasn’t listening anymore. “Blasted teleharms.” He grumbled, scowling at Caimlin’s closed eyelids. Drock didn’t like being interrupted. “And what’s he grinning about anyway?”

A few minutes later, leagues upon leagues away, Lord Void looked up from "his" crystal, his good mood still clearly intact.

Normally, when telaharming in front of others, it was considered polite to speak out loud the thoughts you were sending to the other party, but Lord Void always played his cards close to the chest, and used the crystal in silence.

"Excellent," he said, as he stood away from the table, pocketing the crystal. "Caimlin will depart for Ninjara this afternoon. I expect him to be in the village in about ten days."

"Will you meet him there?" asked Elbadar. Lord Void laughed coldly.

"I rather think the villagers would dislike that," said he, "remember how I lived before Opal's return. I rather suspect that the villagers might cause a ruckus if they saw me."

Lord Void sat in a chair by the fireplace, igniting the flames with a wave of his hand and quick mutter under his breath. He had started doing things like that regularly, little puffs of Earth Magic here and there, as if flaunting or stretching the magic that was slowly returning to him.

"In any event," he said, eyes on the flames, "I think that you will do just as well, Marshal Elbadar. You are acquainted with Caimlin, are you not?"

"We've met," nodded Elbadar.

"Excellent. Then there should be not trouble. He should be alone, maybe a couple of guards with him, but no more."

Lord Void's mouth turned up with a hint of a smile.

"We shall make a great hero of General Caimlin, a hero to ignite a fire right where it will hurt Ajaxx the most- in his pride."

[Formendacil]

Grid: M-8
Location: Drullen Bell

Sir Dractor lingered at Drullen Bell for several days after Thomas's departure, but early on in the New Year he made ready to depart for Orion with Estella and Sir Yves.

"Come on, young lady," he said to the former, "let's get you to Sir Jayko, without any further delays."

"It's about time!" said Estella, and it appeared that she was more than pleased to be leaving the Forestman keep. Perhaps, thought Sir Dractor, it was too much associated with Thomas and Merina in her mind.

Whatever the reasoning, it wasn't long before Estella and Sir Yves were on the road south of Delvarden Gard, towards Farburg, on their way to Orion, with Sir Dractor leading the way. The weather was still cold and wintery, and the old men were predicting it to get worse, but it was passable.

"It'll be warmer in Orion," said Sir Dractor, "away from the influence of the Fell Sea. The currents from the north chill the Forestdweller kingdoms a great deal. It's colder there than it is to the west around Castleton."

"Don't go expecting summer, though," Sir Yves warned Estella. "We'd have to go a lot farther south than Orion to find that."

"I am not a fool," said Estella, but the downfallen look in her eyes suggested that she had been picturing warm sunlight, green grass, and flowering gardens. Estella's understanding of geography was sketchy, at best.

[Sir Dillon]

J-12
Location: The City of Red Talon

The city of Red Talon sat along a jagged contour of land; a great gash of stone and wood work.

Huddled along it's southern side, the low sprawl of wine shops, churches, living quarters, and markets that always seemed to gather in cities. There was a great and never-ceasing smother of noise: voices, marching feet, turning wheels, the ring of an armorer's anvil, and clear calling trumpets over all.

On a morning in early winter, two travelers presented themselves at the gate of the city, demanding to be let through. They were faintly disreputable couple, mounted on small mares that had certainly seen better days. As the sentry let them through, the gates closed behind them for the night.

In the last few months, Donall had changed very little in his appearance; he still wore the same dusty black cloak, and his two most valuable possessions -his swords- were slung on his back as they usually were.
Cynan, who before had looked very much like a homeless beggar, was now looking like his noble-ish self again, he had shaved his beard, he also rid himself of his old Black Knight armor and tunic, and was now dressed in a dark cloak much like Donall's.

As they passed through the gate, Donall leaned over and quietly spoke something to Cynan. Cynan gave a short nod, and the two men parted ways.

Cynan dismounted and walked his horse down the lamp-lit streets. Though Donall was very taciturn, over time, he had found out why he had been freed from the prison by the strange man, and what Donall wanted of him.
He trudged down the cold wet streets until he came to a darker part of the city.

“Ah, this is it” he muttered. In front of him stood an old, beat up looking building. A sign hung down on a rusty chain from the front of the building; with a crude picture of a birds head. There were a few red splotches of paint, which represented blood. Below the picture, it read 'Bloody Beak Tavern'.

He called to the boy sitting just inside the doorway, who came, took Cynan's horse, and led it around to the back of the building.

Cynan walked through the doorway into the Tavern, where he found Master Gringell the innkeeper sitting on a high stool behind the counter, his head bent over some sort of paper work.
Grigell was lean-shanked and sharp-eyed, his nose narrow as a knife blade. His mouth was pursed and puckered as if he had been sipping vinegar, and his cheeks were as mottled as moldy cheese. As Cynan appeared at the counter, Gringell made a sour face, and without looking up from his work, demanded in a equally sour voice:

“What do ye want!? Can't ye see I'm busy, go get one of them bar maids yonder, but don't be botherin' me.”

Cynan gave a harsh laugh, and replied, “Nay Gringell, I'm afraid that I need ta bother you t'day.”

Gringell jolted his head up in surprise.
“Cynan!?” he gasped, “Why, I haven't seen you since...” he dropped the sentence. Then, in a hushed tone said:
“Yer a wanted man, my friend.”

“Aye, I know.” Cynan said, shifting his wait uneasily. “But, I didn't come 'ere just to say hello, and to tell you what I'm doing. I'd like to speak with Daran.”

Gringell gave short nervous laugh, and some of the color drained from his face. “S-s-sorry” he steamered, “he's not here.”

Cynan slammed his hands down on the counter and leaned towards Gringell so he was face to face with the old innkeeper.

“Don't give me that Megabloks, Gringell.” he growled, “I know very well that Daran comes here every five days, and that today is one of the days he comes. I also know that you know that, so I don't want you lying to me.”

“Alright, I admit it, he's here, in the back room” Gringell confessed “I just don't want ye getting hurt, ever since ye killed his brother, Daran's been trainin'-

“Oh tyco it.” Cynan interrupted “Who cares if he's been training!” Then turned and started walking in the direction of the back room.

“Wait! You don't understand” Gringell cried as he leaped up from his stool and grabbed Cynan on the shoulder. “Daran is now twice the fighter you'll ever be. He will kill you.”

Cynan smiled, and put his hand on Gringell's arm, which was still tensely clutched on his shoulder.

“Don't worry” he said softly, “I can take care of myself, I know what I'm getting into.”

“Alright,” Gringell sighed, letting his hand slowly drop from Cynan's shoulder. “I guess I can't keep you under my wing forever... Be careful” he added, “I don't want another person getting killed in me inn.”

“Don't worry about me” Cynan reassured “I'll be fine” But in the back of his mind he wasn't so sure.

[Formendacil]

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington

“Are you alright?” asked Dale, pulled Thomas upright, “What happened?”

“Someone hit me with a snowball!” said Thomas furiously, “I lost my balance!”

Thomas slowly dusted the snow off himself, and with Dale's help, got the chimney cleared.

"Care for a mug in the Pu'?" said Dale.

"Thanks," said Thomas, "but I've already promised Healer Melkan that I'd lunch with him. And I don't know how long that'll take. Another day, if I can."

"Alright then," said Dale, knowing what Melkan was going to talk to Thomas about. "I'll being seeing you."

As Dale strolled off, Thomas made his way back to the Korvalt's, where he gathered Merina and William, and led them to Healer Melkan's.

"Ah, thank you for coming!" Melkan greeted them as they came in. "Sit down, sit down!"

"Brian explained what was going on," said Thomas, "but has anything new happened?"

"Only that the Fright Knight spy left the Pu', and the village, five days ago," said Melkan. "I let Arvey do a little nosing around, and it seems that the Fright Knights are still there, although Arvey thinks that a couple might have left."

"What for?" Thomas mused.

"Probably to get assistance," said William. "If these Fright Knights of yours really want these papers, they'd be sure to have enough men to take on the village, if it came to that."

"I'd like to have a closer look at this Fright Knight camp," said Thomas. "Could we get there and back in the space of an afternoon?" Outside, the sun had already climbed to its noontime position.

"I don't know," said Melkan. "Arvey would, but he's checking his northeast trapline. He'll be at the Pu' tonight, I'm sure, but in the meantime..." Melkan shrugged his shoulders.

"Do you think, Thomas," he went on, "that Hemmerington really could fight off these Fright Knights? Could you?"

"Yes," said Thomas. "I will do as much as I can to keep the Fright Knights away. And I can probably keep them from attacking the village, if I get a little help. But if it did come to battle, the village would stand its ground, I'm positive."

Melkan sighed. A moment later, a knock could be heard at the door.

"Message fer Mister Thomas and Miss Merina," said a freckled eight year old boy. One of the Whetton children, Thomas recalled. He took a piece of parchment from the boy's grubby hand.

Thomas: ran the first part. I'm helping move the McGregor livestock down to the sheltered pasture. We could use an extra hand or two. If you and your tough-looking friend would join us, we'd be much obliged.

Clyde Whetton

P.S. Roberta's having a bunch of the ladies over for tea, and wants to invite Miss Merina over as well. It's an informal tea, she says, for four o'clock. Miss Merina is welcome to stay for supper as well.
-Clyde

Thomas read over the note, thanked the young boy, and then showed the note to the others.

"Do you want to go?" Thomas asked Merina.

"Why not?" said she. "It'd be nice to get to know a few of the villagers. You and William go and move that herd."

"Right," said Thomas. "We'll head out as soon as we've got you back to the Korvalt's."

"I can walk on my own, Thomas," said Merina. "And I know the way."

"I'd rather not have you collapse in the street all alone," said Thomas.

"Collapse in the street?" said Melkan. "Why would that happen."

"It wouldn't," said Merina.

"Because Merina's got an ailment that causes her to cough to the point of collapse," said Thomas.

"I've never heard of such an ailment," said Melkan, concerned. "Have you had it looked at?"

"Yes," said Merina, "and it had the Drullen Bell druid completely baffled. He gave me Essense of Lipton to sooth the throat and keep the coughing down, but he couldn't come up with a cure."

"Well, if the Drullen Bell druids can't help, I rather doubt that I could," said Melkan. "But go easily, if that is the case!"

"I wasn't planning on anything else," said Merina. "Really, Thomas, it's only eight houses down to the Korvalt's. I'll be fine."

"I'd still rather you didn't," said Thomas. "It's more chivalrous to walk you back."

"Tell you what," said Melkan. "I'll go with her. I need to give Mistress Korvalt a soothing draught for her migraines anyway, and it'll save Alice a trip later. Besides, the fresh air will do me good."

Thomas gave in, and with William headed out to join Clyde Whetton and the others who were helping McGregor move his herd.

"So tell me, Thomas," said Herman Kerry, as they began to guide the cows northwards, "what have you been up to since you left. Is being a knight's apprentice all that it's cracked up to be?"

"I'd say that it is," said Thomas. "I've been an Imperial Ball in Orion, helped retrieve a mythic sword, hijacked an Ikrosian trebuchet ship, and rescued a damsel from a dragon."

"A damsel, eh?" said Enrie Givillie. "That wouldn't be Miss Merina, now would it?"

A couple of the other men laughed.

"No," said Thomas. "That was someone else- someone I couldn't have stood for very long. She's on her way to Orion right now, to marry a Cavalier."

"She how DID you meet Miss Merina?" asked Clyde. "She's a pretty one, all right."

"Quite the catch," agreed Herman. "She's got a very pretty face- and figure."

"Okay, guys," said Thomas. "Enough."

"Protective, isn't he?" Clyde winked at Herman. "Definitely got a soft spot for her."

"Can you blame him?" said Herman. "She's prettier than most of the girls in this village."

"So is there anything serious between you two?" asked McGregor, "or is she just a companion of the moment?"

"We haven't started courting, or anything," said Thomas. "She's under Sir Dractor's protection, and he sent her with me and William rather than take her to Orion. He'll meet us here in a couple months."

"So she's up for the taking then?" said Herman with a broad wink. "Maybe now's a good time for me to consider courting. She'd make a handsome wife, don't you think?"

"All right!" said Thomas. "So I fancy her, and I'll stand between anyone of you who would take her for yourselves. There's still nothing official happening yet. As far as she's concerned, we're just friends."

"I don't know about that, Thomas," said William. "Just because neither of you have said you're courting doesn't mean that either of you don't think of yourselves that way. Merina- or you- may not say the word 'courting' right now, but both of you are clearly thinking along those lines."

"Just don't rush into marriage!" said Clyde. "Get to know her first!"

"And always treat her like the lady she is," said McGregor.

"And definitely don't pressure her in anything," said Fredfry MacDouglas. "She'll let you know when she's ready."

"Enough already!" said Thomas. "I appreciate the concern, but I think I can manage my own life."

Clyde chuckled.

"I think we can trust Thomas to do what's best, boys," he said. "He's got a sober head on those shoulders."

"Except where Miss Merina is concerned," said Herman. "I'm not so sure that he's sober at all there."

[Formendacil]

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington

"Do you want to go?" Thomas asked Merina.

"Why not?" said she. "It'd be nice to get to know a few of the villagers. You and William go and move that herd."

At four in the afternoon, Merina made her way down to the Whetton residence, and was admitted by the befreckled young lad who had delivered the message to Melkan's.

"Ah, Miss Merina!" Roberta Whetton came to meet her, "come in, come in. So glad you could come! Such a pleasure to meet you! I'm Roberta Whetton. When I heard that Thomas Valt had come back with a lady friend, I decided that I must have you over- if only to relieve you a little of the very male company that you seem to be keeping. I hope those Korvalt boys aren't bothering you. They're quite the rowdies. Although their mother does keep them well in hand. She's a tough woman, Wilma Korvalt!"

Merina's first impression of Roberta Whetton was of nonstop talking. She was a nice enough woman, about thirtyish, but very chattery.

"Are you going to bring her in here or not?" came the voice of an elderly lady from the table. Roberta stopped talking, and smiled at Merina, and led her into the kitchen.

"Merina," she said, "this is Babs Loran, the oldest person in the village. Beside her is Katha Baldwin. I've also invited Brigit MacDouglas and her girls, but they haven't arrived yet. Oh, wait! I think I hear them coming up the front steps. I'll be back in a jiffy. Help yourselves to the crumpets!"

"She could talk an ear off a donkey," Babs said to Merina. "Sit down, girl, and tell us something about you."

"Is it true?" asked Katha, "that you were in Drullen Bell for Yuletide? Is the fortress truly as big as they say?"

"I'm not really sure what they say," said Merina, "but it's certainly a very impressive fortress."

"You say that like you've seen a few," said Babs. "Have you?"

"I was born in the shadow of the Falcon's Spire," said Merina, "and I've seen several of the Falcon castles, as well as various Royal Knight, Classic, and Crusader ones at a distance."

Roberta bustled in with the MacDouglas girls at that point, introducing them to Merina, and vice versa. Maeve's face seemed to lock up.

"I didn't know YOU would be coming," she said.

"Maeve!" said Orla. "Don't be so rude!"

"Well, it's true," said Maeve. "I didn't. If I had, I probably wouldn't have come."

"Why?" asked Merina, feeling somewhat puzzled and a little unwelcome.

"Because YOU're the little homewrecker who's made Thomas so googleyed," said Maeve. "I shouldn't be surprised if you've been feeding him love potions, they way he looks at you!"

"Maeve, Thomas doesn't even have a home to be wrecked," said Katha gently.

"Love potions!" snorted Orla. "Maeve, you have the worst imagination..."

"I don't know," said Babs. "The boy looked well and truly besotted. I've never seen what a love potion does, but that's what I'd guess it looks like."

"I assure you," said Merina, "I have been giving nobody love potions, including Thomas."

"You've always got that waterskin with you," said Maeve, "and Erik said that it was definitely not water in there."

"It's tea for my cough," said Merina. "It soothes the irritation."

"For your cough?" said Maeve. "What cough is so bad that you carry cold tea with you all the time?"

"I'm not sure," said Merina, "the druids didn't know."

"Sounds made-up to me," said Maeve. "Sounds like exactly the sort of sob story that would make Thomas's charitable heart- Chodan bless him- throb."

"Er... how about a spot of tea?" interjected Roberta Whellan, holding a tray of china.

"Well, it would seem that Merina won't be needing any of your tea since she has her own," said Maeve. "Her 'special' tea."

"I'll gladly have some of your tea, Mrs. Whellan," said Merina.

"Did you see what Felix was up to the other day?" said Katha, desperately trying to change the subject.

"No," said Brigit, ready to play along, "what was it?"

"Apparently Aelk Borom was attaching another letter to the Pu'," said Katha. "Making it a Pub again."

"It won't catch on," said Orla. "It's been the Pu' for so long now- and all the boys like the name."

"Including Enrie?" asked Katha. Orla nodded with a grimace.

"Including Thomas?" said Maeve, pointedly.

"Maeve!" said her mother.

"I have no idea if he likes the name," said Merina, "but he spoke fondly of it when speaking of Hemmerington."

"But of course," said Maeve, "you've been busy studying up on what he DOES like. Tell me, Merina, how does he prefer his kisses standing up or sitting down? And does he prefer girls with their hair down or up? Does he prefer redheads or brunettes?"

Merina's face had gone red. Maeve thought she was shocked.

"I haven't a clue," said Merina steadily.

"Maeve, that is entirely enough!" said Brigit. "You're acting like a child!"

"What is it, Merina?" asked Maeve. "Redheads or brunettes?"

"Whatever Thomas prefers," said Merina, hard and cold, "it's no business of yours. So you leave him alone!"

"Don't you talk to my daughter like that!" said Brigit. "Thomas Valt doesn't belong to you! He's one of us!"

"Now, both of you, calm down!" Katha tried to say, but Babs waved her down.

"This is amusing," she said.

"Thomas is the kindest and most chivalrous man I've ever known," said Merina, "and if you insinuate again that he is any sort of lecherous lout..."

"You'd know all about those, now wouldn't you!" said Maeve. "I wouldn't be surprised if you knew them intimately, in fact!"

WHACK!

Maeve recoiled instinctively, her hand going to her face, where Merina had slapped her. Hard.

"Don't you DARE hit my daughter, you little hussy!" said Brigit.

"Then tell her to grow the manners that most people consider to be commonplace," said Merina, her blood boiling. "If she says another word to malign Thomas!"

"Maeve wouldn't do such a thing!" said Brigit. "She's known Thomas since she could barely talk!"

"Barely talking is something she should take up again," said Merina. "Now, if you all will excuse me, I don't think I'll disrupt this tea any further."

And Merina stormed out of the house. The sounds of light coughing could be heard momentarily as she headed towards the Korvalt's.

"I think we should go too," said Orla. "Dad will be wanting supper, and you two need to cool down a little. Thanks for the tea, Roberta."

As the MacDouglasses left, Babs turned to Katha and Roberta.

"She's got a temper, that little Merina girl. Makes me wonder if Maeve's words didn't strike too close to home."

"Of course they struck too close," said Katha. "They were striking at Thomas."

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

He gave the Sign Of The Elk. Adrian returned it, and Hans tried to, but Cate was still clasping his hand firmly.

Grid: M-7
Location: Drullen Bell Keep

The Trio's trip to Port Crowne was mostly uneventful, excluding the time when Hans' horse spooked and tossed him into a muddy snowdrift.

"You and your cursed dirt." said Hans to Adrian after Cate had over-eagerly launched herself from her horse to pull him free.

Adrian smirked slightly.

"You city folk. A little mud won't kill you..."

"Just maim me, yes, I know." snapped Hans.

They spend the night in the town of Westwater, and by the next day they were approaching the capital city of the Crusaders. Hans’ former grumpiness had been washed away after a good bath, and he and Adrian spent the last leg of their journey telling a not-so-interested Cate factorial tidbits about Port Crowne. By late afternoon they were in the chaos that was always Port Crowne.

“So where do we go from here?” demanded Cate over the din.

“Well,” said Hans slowly, “According to Nathaniel’s clue, the One Brick is hidden here…somewhere.”

“It wasn’t very specific.” grumbled Cate.

“We should find a library…” said Adrian.

Hans looked at Adrian.

“Your domain, sire.” he said, “Lead on.”

Adrian wrinkled his brow.

“I’ve only been here once,” he said, “And that was on my way to Orion…however…I do recall seeing the National Lion Archival Institute…where was it…?”

“How patriotic of you.” teased Hans, “You don’t know your way about your own capital…”

“I don’t live in it three hundred and sixty-five days of the year, unlike some others I know.” snapped Adrian, “Ah, there it is!”

Adrian pointed to a three-story building several blocks away.

Cate said, “Um, guys, why a library? Nathaniel’s letter said the One Brick would be in Port Crowne. Why would the One Brick be in this library?”

“We can’t just go through Port Crown peering under stones looking for the One Brick.” said Hans, “His letter to his cousin was really vague. Nathaniel must have left another clue somewhere specifying the One Brick’s location. Hopefully it’s in there.”

“And if it’s not?”

“We’re screwed.”

The trio pushed their way through the bustling crowd, their Wolfpack steeds whinnying. When the horses were taken care of, Hans, Adrian and Cate went inside. The National Lion Archival Institute was respectable-looking library with a slightly nautical flair. The bookcases were high and lined with books, and at the reference desk set a wrinkled old lady. A monocle was jammed into place, and she was peering at a manuscript. She looked up and smiled as the trio approached, one of her eyes oddly enlarged.

“Hello dears.” she said, “How may I help you?”

“We’re looking for any information on…the Earl Of Wells…Nathaniel.” said Adrian.

The old woman scratched her chin with her quill.

“I can’t say that I’ve heard of such a fellow, dear.”

“He lived about nine hundred years ago.” said Hans, “and he was a Classic.”

The old woman nibbled on the nib of the quill.

“A LEGOlander, eh? You might try the History section, dears. Section A1, row 13.”

“Thanks.”

Hans, Cate and Adrian left the reference desk. Section A1, row 13 was located at the far end of the room. Cate sighed as she stared at the rows upon rows of shelves.

“Books.” she snorted, and began to sort through them despondently.

Hans and Adrian dove in with enough gusto to make up for Cate’s total lack of it. It took a surprisingly little amount of time to find what they were looking for.

“Hey, check it out!” cried Hans.

“What is it?” asked Cate.

Hans held up a think volume.

“It’s the city records.” said Hans, “From 1149 to 1159. Anything of importance or interest to Port Crowne was recorded here.

Adrian and Cate clustered around as Hans began to read:

“Recorded on February the 12th, 1155 in the year of the Classic Castle by Sophia Tols, assistant archivist.”

“Tols?” Adrian squinted, “Tols?”

“Shush.” said Cate.

Hans read on.

“On this day of dark clouds and lashing rain, the harbor remains quite inactive, for the captains of ships fear collisions lest they make sail. Camborne is like one dead -- drowned by water from sea and sky. The market remains closed, and the streets are void of persons. They fear they might be swept away by the crashing waves. This storm, however, has not prevented the arrival of one most honored in Dametreos. Nathaniel, Earl Of Wells, Chief Foreign Ambassador for Emperor Dacillus, and newly proclaimed Lord Of The LEGO, recently returned from the distant land of Ikros, arrived in Camborne today bearing with him something of great value. He requested it be stored in the Camborne vaults, and it was done at once. The Earl Of Wells then departed with much haste.”

There was a brief silence after Hans finished reading. At last Cate said,

“Camborne? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Camborne was the original name for Port Crowne in the Old Speak.” explained Adrian, “‘Camn’ in Old Speak meant crown, and ‘bearn’ meant to bear away or transport. Port Crowne is Camborne!”

“Oh.” said Cate, “So the One Brick is in this “Camborne vault?”

Adrian now looked worried.

“Getting to it might be really difficult.” he said.

“I don’t think the One Brick is in the vaults.” said Hans slowly, now turning to a new page, “Listen. Recorded on March the 29th, 1155 in the year of the Classic Castle by Sophia Tols, assistant archivist. On this day Camborne is a mass of chaos. Heathen wild folk from the northern forests have attacked, and most of the good people of Camborne have fled or been killed. All valuable objects and documents have been relocated to a southern town by the name of Dendar’s Hamlet. This town has many tunnels beneath it’s surface, and the treasures should be safe there.”

“Interesting.” said Adrian, “So the Forestmen attacked Port Crowne, and Crusaders fled, taking the One Brick with them. And this Tols lady recorded it…I wonder if she has anything to do with my hometown.”

“Her brother probably founded it or something.” said Hans dismissively.

“I’ve never heard of a place called Dendar’s Hamlet.” said Cate.

Adrian rolled the name over his tongue.

“Dendar’s Hamlet…Dender Hamlet…hey! Could Dendar’s Hamlet be Denderham?”

Hans looked at a large map of current-day Crusader land pinned to a wall.

“Denderham is south of Port Crowne…” said Hans

“Hey,” said Cate, :Remember that tale Bjarn told us, about when he saved Shainya, and took when he went do Denderham, he escaped the soldiers by fleeing with others through an underground passage?”

“That’s right!” said Adrian, “And it said in that book that there were many tunnels under Dendar’s Hamlet!”

“Denderham’s got to be the place!” said Hans.

[The Green Knight]

The sorcerer trailed off as he realized that Caimlin wasn’t listening anymore. “Blasted teleharms.” He grumbled, scowling at Caimlin’s closed eyelids. Drock didn’t like being interrupted. “And what’s he grinning about anyway?”

“He’s alive?” Drock was ecstatic. Caimlin had just revealed the identity of the caller and Drock was grinning from ear to ear. “Ah, this is great! This is so…great! Hah! Why am I even surprised? I guess I forgot how difficult it is to kill a wizard…or a sorcerer.” He finished , flexing his grey tinted knuckles. “But this is fantastic! Really fantastic! Now at last we can squash that traitor Ajaxx and put an end to this business! So, when do we begin our attack? Where are we to take council? How can I help?” “

“Well, he doesn’t need your help yet, but he may soon. Although in actuality Drock…Void doesn’t want the throne. He’s not even after Ajaxx’s head.”

“WHAAAT!” Drock roared out of shock. “He’s not even… Well then what the bloody tyco does he plan on doing?”

“Uh, well he didn’t say exactly, but I got the general impression that we would be getting back at Dragonsbane with some scheme to destroy his reputation or convictions or something.”

“Oh, oh I see.” Said Drock, barely suppressing his frustrations into an intense string of words. “And did ‘Lord’ Void happen to consider how that would effect us? We may be on the brink of war with the mainland and he’s stirring the hornet’s nest! Purposely provoking their king! Not that I have any doubt that I could defeat them in war, you understand… Not that I wouldn’t welcome the chance to personally dispose of Dragonsbane, but I’d rather not have to destroy half the mainland Dragon Masters just because Void likes playing an over the top prankster instead of a king! I’ll tell you what it is Caimlin! It’s his duty to take the crown that’s what! If not to Dragonar then to me, who has to put up with that mage-killer on the throne! Ever since Ajaxx took control I’ve been searching for a way to turn things back to normal and now, when Void comes back, when I finally have the chance to end this, he— he—he destroys it! Wait til I get a chance to— No! That’s it, I’ll send him a friendly little teleharm and let him know what I think of his little games.” The sorcerer’s eyelids slammed shut.

“Wai—wha—now wait just a minute!” Caimlin had not meant for this to happen. “Whatever happened to ‘Ajaxx is a traitor’, to ‘I took an oath to serve Void’, whatever happened to that?”

“I swore allegiance to Lord Void, Caimlin. Lord Void. But he is lord no longer. He resigned his lordship to Ajaxx when he chose not to reclaim his throne. It would seem that in all the world, I alone want him to be Lord Void again. You’re free to help him Caimlin, but don’t expect any aid from me.

Drock turned to leave. “Lord Void? Hah! How will he call himself now, I wonder? ‘Mr. Void’? ‘Sir Void’? Perhaps just ‘Void’, or maybe ‘The Void’. Like ‘The Baron’, or ‘The Elemental’, or ‘The one who must not be named due to inaccuracies in his usual title, brought about by the loss of his kingdom’.”

Caimlin listened as Drock grumbled himself out of the room. “No, I’ve got it! ‘The magical practitioner formally known as Void’.”

“Perhaps I should have told him who really unstoned him.” The mainlander mused to himself. But there were many other things to think about and that first thought soon lost prominence in Caimlin’s mind. He had many teleharms to make in preparation for a quick start that evening. Kilgrim would have to be notified –told that he was in charge- as would the captain of Caimlin’s ship, for obvious reasons. He also wanted to contact Void again and inform him of the developments with Drock.
~
“You let me worry about him, Caimlin.” Said Lord Void, when he received the news. “Drock will help us, but only when I need him. Yes… but I must go now. I will speak to you later, Caimlin.”

“Yes sir, and if I may, my lord. It’s good to hear your voice again.”

“Yes,” said the wizard, dryly. “Enchanting, isn’t it?” and he severed the connection.

Caimlin smiled as he made ready to leave. Soon would begin a new adventure and possibly a change in his fates. It was twice now, that he had taken Void for dead. What were the odds? There was something else too. Something nagging him from the inner recesses of his mind.
Drock…the ball…something he said…Targon…

“Great Mocs!” he exclaimed remembering what Drock had said at the great ball in Orion. He had told the sorcerer about the teleharm Targon had sent him by accident and Drock had asked him a question.

“Have you tried sending a teleharm back?”

“I never did teleharm him.” Caimlin admitted aloud. It was true. With all the excitement that broke out after the ball, Drock’s words had been completely forgotten. Only the reemergence of Lord Void had dredged them up again. “Should I try sending Targon a teleharm?” Caimlin wondered. Well, why not? After all, what harm could there be in trying?

[Formendacil]

Grid: N-10
Location: Approaching Denderham

“Hey,” said Cate, :Remember that tale Bjarn told us, about when he saved Shainya, and took when he went do Denderham, he escaped the soldiers by fleeing with others through an underground passage?”

“That’s right!” said Adrian, “And it said in that book that there were many tunnels under Dendar’s Hamlet!”

“Denderham’s got to be the place!” said Hans.

"So," Hans asked, late afternoon the next day as they approached Denderham, "what's it like? Denderham, that is?

"How on earth would I know?" asked Adrian.

"Well, you're a Crusader, aren't you?" said Hans.

"I'm a Lion Island Crusader," said Adrian. "I've only ever been to the mainland when I was passing through towards Orion. I didn't ever both hitting Denderham."

"Hey, it's not like I know all of Legoland really well," said Hans, "having hardly ever left the Kingdom of Orion, but I know what the general opinion is of most of the bigger cities in the Empire, like the fact that Chevraport is considered quite ugly, and stuff like that."

"My apologies," said Adrian, "but most Lion Islanders have never been off the Island in their lives. What I know about the mainland is from reading, and there's not much that I've ever read about Denderham."

"Me neither," said Hans, "that's why I asked."

"Hans!" Cate shrieked. "Stop!"

"Wha..." Hans said, turned to look forward again, and saw that he had nearly trampled an eight year old boy. "WHOA!" he cried, grabbing on the reins. He stopped the horse, didn't hurt the boy, but was thrown from his horse and onto the muddy road.

"Oh, you poor boy," said Cate, dismounting.

"I'm all right," said Hans, "don't worry."

"I don't think she was talking to you," said Adrian, who had also dismounted, giving him a hand up.

Hans looked over at Cate, who was holding the boy. He was a rather raggedly dressed little creature, quite grungy, and with a bundle slung over his shoulder on a stick. He grinned toothily at them.

"Fanks for thtopping, mista!" he said. "I didn' wanna get twampled."

"What's a young boy like you doing out here on the highway anyway?" asked Cate.

"I'm wunning away fwom home!" said the boy eagerly.

"And why would that be?" asked Adrian.

"Cause Mith Rotha ith mean!" said the boy seriously. "I'm thick of washing!"

"That's hardly a reason to run away," said Cate. "Come on, let's get you home."

"Yeah, you can't stay in the wild," said Hans. "It's freezing, and where would you find food."

"I gotta woaf of bwead," said the boy.

"That wouldn't last long," said Adrian. "Come on, I bet your family's having something much better than bread for supper."

"Don' got no famiwy," said the boy. "I wive at the orphanage."

"Oh," said Cate, tearily.

"Anyway, it's still better than the cold," said Adrian. "Come on, young fellow. You'll have to show us the way."

"You can ride with Hans," said Cate. "He's the one who fell off the horse. By the way, I'm Cate, and he's Adrian."

As Adrian gravely shook the boy's hand, Hans gave Cate a look that clearly said "why me?"

"I'm Thauw," said the boy.

"Thaw?" said Adrian.

"No, Thauw," said the boy.

"Saw?" guessed Hans.

"No, Thauw!" said he, a little irritated at his elders' lack of perception.

"Saul?" said Adrian.

"Yeth! That's my name!"

"Okay, Saul," said Cate. "Adrian'll boost you up in front of Hans. Then you'll have to tell us where to go."

"Fo'ward!" said Saul. Obediently, the three horses did just that.

[The Green Knight]

Grid: K-18
Location: Port Maltressa
Time.
It’s only a matter of time.
You can beat him, defeat him and take away his stone, but it’s only a matter of time before Targon will come up with another brilliant plan to take over the world.

His newest one involved tracking down Burtrand Storm-rider, taking back his rock and amazing the world with his fantastic indestructibility.

Pure genius, as you can see. The biggest problem facing Targon was how to find the pirate. As he saw it, there were three options.
One, he could board a wealthy merchant vessel, somehow, and wait for Burtrand to attack or…
Two, he could make his way back to Denderham, somehow, and wait for Burtrand to appear or…
Three, he could steal a ship, somehow, and track Burtrand down to where ever he was hiding, despite the fact that Targon really didn’t know how to sail.

Naturally, he went with the third option.

After the disastrous happenings that befell him at Little Chipping, Targon had returned to port Maltressa where he planned to implement his designs.

The actual amount of time he spent looking for the right ship amounted to a grand total of two days. Not long, but the Dragon Master grew impatient quickly, and was about to try a different tack when his ship finally came in. Literally. She was perfect. A sleek, fast, small, one person barque with accommodations for extra passengers. Perfect for chasing down Storm-rider.

It was not, however, the perfect ship to hijack. Targon’s first attempt nearly ended in disaster and would have too, but for some reason they let him go after listening to his cockamamie excuses for being on the ship. Targon attributed this to his own amazing diplomatic abilities, though you and I would more likely have given credit to his gift for looking like a harmless buffoon.

Whatever the case, Targon was not deterred by his failure and soon had another plot hatched and flying. If he couldn’t take it while in port, he’d have to hijack it at sea. Out on the ocean where he’d only have to deal with the captain, a middle aged woman of the sea, and her client, a ninjaran professor from the mainland.

Targon’s plan was simple. Wait until the professor was done collecting his minerals or whatever he was doing and came back to the ship to go home. Then stow away below deck and await the moment when they were well out to sea and he could take control. In the end it did take longer then anticipated for the professor to finish his work, but the stowing away part went off without a hitch and soon Targon was out to sea, unnoticed, in the belly of the Sea Serpent.

[Sir Dillon]

J-12
Location: An inn in the city of Red Talon

Cynan walked to the back room, which was really at the side of the building, not the back at all. He stopped in front of the door, knocked, then opened it and stepped in, closing it behind him.

Daran was a tall, decently built man, with long stringy brown hair, and a small stubby beard. He was dressed in a dark leather tunic, and his dusty brown cloak was rapped about him. He was the only person in the room; sitting at a small table, fingering a glass of wine. As he saw Cynan come into the small room, he leaped up from his seat, tipping over the cup and spilling wine everywhere, and reached for his sword, but Cynan was too fast for him. By time Daran stood up, there was already a sword pointed at his neck.

“Sit back down.” Cynan damaded. “I don't want to fight with you... Yet. I just want to talk to you.”

Daran said nothing, but just sat down reluctantly, and glared at Cynan.

“Now” Cynan began, “Around the time I killed your beloved brother-” He purposely emphasized 'killed', and smiled to himself as he saw Daran wince.

“Oh, wait” He paused, “you don't need to hear about that, your brother is dead, no matter what anyone says or does.” Cynan nearly laughed out loud seeing Daran's knuckles whiten, gripping the table. He was hurting, and what Cynan was doing was torture to him, Cynan knew, and he was enjoying it.