Classic-Castle.com

Grid: F-11
Location: Port Firetresses

Elbadar stepped off the ship onto the wharf, back at last on his home soil of Dragonar. He had not been there since his adventure with Bernard Quorandis, nearly a year before, which had taken him to Port Jozef, Anka Dolour, and back to Talistrand.

Admittedly, Port Firetresses was a sorry sight. It had been hastily erected, on a fairly ugly and otherwise useless stretch of coastline. Even the governor's mansion, destined to be a handsome stone ediface, was still a construction site of mortar, stone chips, and sawdust.

But it was home.

Behind Elbadar, seventeen other Dragon Master soldiers, once the elite of Lord Void's army, disembarked from the ship. Behind them, Mask and his six shinobi followed, still masked.

"We shall see you tomorrow, when you leave for the Dark Dragon's Den," said Mask, and then he and his shinobi vanished.

"Let's find ourselves an inn," said Elbadar. "Mask will find us without difficulty when we leave. It's good to be home, isn't it?"

The soldiers nodded their agreement, but Elbadar's pleasure was cut short as he caught sight of the next ship sailing into port. The banner at its stern was chillingly familiar. It was a green dragon on yellow- the banner of the Del Grakkens. Oris Del Grakken had also arrived in Port Firetresses.

"He'll be trying to rebuild the regiment as well," muttered Elbadar, then he said more loudly to his men. "Let's get out of here- and let's try to keep a low profile tonight. Hopefully, Del Grakken will be aiming for Grolling Fortress or the Fire-breathing Fortress."

Formendacil wrote:Precisely what Cate was about to call her steed, Adrian and Hans did not find out, for at that moment it chose to leap into a gallop, tearing down the road, Cate hanging on for dear life.

Doing their best to force their old horses into a similar pace, Adrian and Hans plodded after her.

Grid: Q-7
Location: Forestman, nearing Three Lands Crossroads

The ride through the Forestmen lands was NOT enjoyable for all three of them. It mostly involved boring scenery, cold days and nights, and very sore rears. Cate's horse was uncontrollable, Hans' horse was unresponsive, and Adrian's horse was just plan dumb. The sole highlight, for Hans and Adrian at least, was hearing Cate’s surprising large library of expletives.

“Tut tut.” chided Adrian, after Cate had taken a particularly hard fall and had called the horse something completely inappropriate to reprint here, “Such language for a Classic Noblewoman.”

Here Cate called Adrian something also unprintable. Hans wisely decided to stay out of the discussion until Cate had had time to cool off. He gallantly offered Cate his horse to ride while he ran ahead to fetch Cate’s wild mount. When Has returned half-an-hour later bruised, scratched and muddy, horse’s reigns (but no horse) in hand, Cate exclaimed,

“Where the tyco is the horse?”

“I dunno.” said Hans. He could barely see through his spectacles through the grime, “I found these tangled up in a megabloks bramble bush half a mile up the road.”

“Buildit.” said Adrian.

Cate colorfully cursed Honyst Edd.

“Now what are we going to do?” she said.

“We’re gonna have to double up.” said Adrian.

They looked at one another. Hans was the muddiest, but they were all certainly not clean. A week of travel both by sea and by land was evident by their sight and smell.

“Ew.” said Cate.

“We’ll do straws.” said Hans, “Two short and one long. Whoever gets the short one rides alone.”

“Alright…”

With his pocket knife (originally a humble quill sharpener), Hans trimmed down three twigs. He stuck them evenly into a lump of mud, then turned away as Adrian rearranged them without revealing their lengths. Then, one after the other, they drew out the twigs and compared them. Cate cackled.

“Saddle up, boys!”

Then she leaped upon Hans' old horse and rode off.

TheOrk wrote:The pillage had begun.

Grid: E-10
Location: the Royal Knight Coast

Thedrikforge's heavy battle armor clanged as he sprinted up the gritty beach. The other Vikings sometimes bantered with Thedrikforge about his "iron undergarments", but Thedrikforge preferred the more security the armor provided. It sometimes slowed him down, but now, with the bloodlust running through his veins, Thedrikforge felt he could outrun a Fenris.

Thedrikforge and Norbrik were now off the beach, pounding over the boardwalk and into the village. The screams of the skraelings filled the air. It had been peaceful since the end of the BloodVaine War. Even the pirates had slacked off. And so the Royals Knights were wholly unprepared for the Viking's raid.

Thedrikforge was not an evil man. He did not kill just to kill. He did not hunt anyone out. But woe to any Royal Knight who got in the way of his axe.

"Graaah!!"

Thedrikforge smashed down the door of a thatched home. A scared-looking man was holding a fire-poker. With a grunt, Thedrikforge disposed of him easily. A scream made him swerve about. A girl -- no, a woman -- was crouching in the corner behind the door. Her face was deadly pale. She was staring in horror at the blood on Thedrikforge's axe. Then she fainted.

A woman! What excellent luck!

Thedrikforge heaved the limp form onto his broad shoulders and left the house, not before kicking a log from the fire into a pile of straw. Soon the building was ablaze. It was not the only one. The raid was already ending. The village was burning, and the villagers either dead or captured. Thedrikforge spotted Norbrik dragging a chest of gold away from the village church. Thedrikforge shouted something of encouragement at Norbrik and then returned to his longship. In a moment his crew had returned and began to push the Midgard back out to sea. Soon the other Viking ships were also disembarking. When a disturbed band of Royal Knight soldiers -- alerted to the unfolding disaster by a surviving villagers -- stumbled into the inferno ten minutes later, the raiders were gone. They had vanished into the mist, the only signs of their presence the marks of hulls upon the beach and the destruction they left behind.

Grid: C-3
Location: Mt. Greybeard

Formendacil wrote:Thomas and William were running full tilt, but it was only their headstart that was going to save them. The dragon, immensely larger and faster was already gaining on them.

Seizing the first possible chance for cover, Thomas ducked into a very narrow crack in the side of the tunnel, leaving William to run on alone with the goblet.

Panting heavily, running faster than he had thought possible, and clutching at the goblet for dear life, William Jorgenson leapt out of the cave, only a split second before the blast of dragonfire followed him. Propelled by inertia, he continued down the mountainside, losing his footing and falling several feet. The goblet went flying and William did not see where it landed.

Meanwhile, Sir Dractor, Sir Yves, and the other outlaws had launched themselves at the dragon. The dragon spun around swiftly, his tail knocking over his opponents. Even as he came at them again with his fire-breathing maw, they were struggling to their feet. Sir Dractor and Sir Yves raised their sheilds protectively.

Then, for no explicable reason, the dragon flapped its wings, and soared off the ground. It circled them once, spraying them with fire, and then flew up to the very peak of Mt. Greybeard, looking down on them like an enormous vulture.

"Now what?" asked Sir Yves, while the outlaws helped William to his feet.

"He's waiting for us to enter his cave so that he can trap us," said Sir Dractor. "Well, we won't fall in with his plan. We'll wait for Thomas to return with Estella, and then fall back for another assault at another time."

L-12 Castle Dracul

And now he found himself entering the foul castle for a third time. This time, he would be sure to burn it when he was done. As if one cue, the great oak doors creaked open…

Valric followed by Theodore, stepped into the dark, crumbling halls of the castle. It was still midday but the two knights had to squint in the darkness. Valric felt his way along the wall and found a torch. While Theodore stood guard, sword drawn, he set about making a light.

In the dim light, the two could see that the maze like hallways of the castle still resembled a battlefield. Every piece of furniture had been smashed to splinters, every tapestry, curtain and every other cloth or plastic furnishing had been torn to shreds. To lighten the mood, the corpses of the previous battle still lay where they fell. Most of the bodies were near the main entrance, it was there were Pythos’s traitorous band of warriors had counter attacked Count Belzzar’s own troops. As the two jouneyed in deeper, bits and pieces of the nameless abominations from the dungeons started to appear.

The only other thing by now besides the strange unatural darkness, that seemed odd to the two knights was the castle’s condition. It seemed to have aged a thousand years since last time they came here. Piles of rubble lay everywhere. If they had to destroy the place, it seemed that the strigoi had made the job easier for them.

“Valric, do where in the name of Chodan are we?” grumbled Theodore, as they wandered throw the endless halls.

Valric laughed “I thought you were leading the way?” Theodore sighed.

Soon they came to a large well furnished room. Books, artifacts, tapestries and weapons lined the walls. A fine place was on side with a number of comfey looking chairs clustered around it.

“This room must have been the count’s study.” Said Theodore as they stepped in.

The room might have been the count’s study. Between Pythos,Venvorskar and Ioan the place was very worse for wear. Half of the ceiling had fallen out, part of the floor had fallen out, one wall was warped. Half the non brick elements had been burn’t to a crisp.

“Was the count’s.” Corrected Valric as he turned to leave.

As he turned to the doorway, a grey schreeching blurr flew in. It leaped at Valric, swearing he leapt out the way and tripped over a chair. The thing appeared to be a thin wraith like hideously deformed minifig, it looked like it was once a minifig from one of the villages before.

“Tyco!’ Growled Theodore as he raised his sword and shield to defend himself.

The minifig showed a perfect set of glistening white fangs. Theodore attempted to swing his sword at it, but the vampire swatted the sword out of his hand. The thing pounced on Theodore, with inhuman strength, it threw him against a window. As he fell to the ground, a flailing hand grabbed hold of the rotting curtain, tearing it off, exposing a weak ray of sunlight. The beam fell squarely on the vampire’s face. It shrieked as it’s face began to burn, the grey blurr disappeared down the corridor.

Valric walked over and helped Theodore to his feet. “Where the tyco did that come from? It’s in the afternoon, not night!”

Valric sheathed his sword, for the moment. “Maybe, but by the looks of it, not very much sunlight gets in here…”

The two continued on their way, tearing off the closed curtains as they went…

Maedhros wrote:Then Kae-Os grabbed Aiden´s shoulders and turned to the boat. He offered Shika a last smile and then he led Aiden to the boat. Then they set out to the Happy Dragon...

Grid: E-12
Location: Ninjara mainland coast

The ship had landed on a piece of coast in the north of Ninjara about a week ago. There had been some disagreement over the landing spot. Aiden and Kae-Os had not wanted Hidemitsu to go out of his way just for them. At the same time, Hidemitsu would not be considered rude and insisted on taking the two at least as far as the Royal border. It was an interesting battle of politeness. They had settled on a compromise.

They would drop anchor farther north that Aiden and Kae-Os had planned, but not as far as Hidemitsu had planned. After coming ashore, Aiden and Kae-Os had bid them all farewell and struck out toward the Royal Knights.

In all honesty, Aiden was quite glad to leave the sea behind. Not only was the sea not his favorite spot, especially after the incident with The Hard Luck, but the crew had began to bug him. Hidemitsu and the shinobi were all right to a point, but their never-ending politeness had nearly driven him insane. And then there was Swift. The fellow was not only a bit sulky and silent, but Aiden was sure that Swift had taken an immediate dislike to him. It had been a relief to be out from his frown. Still, maybe he was just imagining things. Also, the weather was getting colder, and it would not be long before the first heavy snow fell. Aiden would be just as happy to be in Castleton when that happened, and defiantly off the sea.

He and Kae-Os had covered all of the remaining Ninjarin land by now and were now about to enter the thin stretch of land owned by the Dragon Masters that separated them from the Royals. Apart from a million and one glares at Kae-Os, the trip through the land had been eventless.

As the border came on, Aiden spotted a lone Dragon Master sentry sitting beside a small hut. No ninjarin could be seen.

"State yer business for entering the lands of King Ajaxx." Said the guard in barely controlled yawn.

"Just passing through to the Royals," stated Kae-Os.

"Hmm," grunted the sentry, peering at them. "Not many people come this way and you sure don't look like ninjas." He paused, as his small head organ calculated the possible harm that might come to him if he let these people through. After a second he shrugged and said, "move on."

"King Ajaxx?" puzzled Aiden as they walked. "I wonder when that happened?"

Kae-Os shrugged in reply.

"Well, better pick up the pace." Aiden said. "It would be good to reach Port Firetresses, or maybe even the Royal border by night."

L-12 Castle Dracul

The two knights continued wandering around the crumbling halls of the castle. Valric never really noticed how big it was before. As far as castles went, it must have been one of the largest in the Batlands. Probably only Gyrnhaunt and Count Durak’s castle were the only ones bigger. A minifig could be lost for years in this dank hole; not counting the dungeons.

“We’ve been walking around in here for hours!” Grumbled Theodore, the vampire encounter still fresh in his memory.

“Yeah, I know what ya tyco mean…” Replied Valric, he booted an expensive looking cabinet for good measure.

“If we don’t find them soon, the sun’s gonna set.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t in here for that long!” Laughed Valric.

They came to a set of finely carved oak doors, Valric unceremoniously booted them in. This next chamber looked like a bedroom. The count’s bedroom, it was even more decked out then the study. Valric suddenly had a great dislike of the former count. In this one room alone, he had more possessions then all he the people in the surrounding villages combined. If he ever met the deranged count ever again, he was going to get a big surprise.

“I think this Belzzar fellow has just about as much wealth as King Kjeld once had.” Scowled Theodore.

“You might be onto something there.” Said Valric yawning, he leaned against the wall as Theodore examined a bookshelf. Something caught Theodore’s eye.

“What’s this? The Chronological History of the Royal Knights.”

As Theodore picked the book up, he found it was stuck. Without warning, the wall slid out from behind Valric, revealing a spiral staircase. Valric swore and tried to regain his balance, a moment later, he bounced down seven floors worth of stairs. Every time he started to slow down, he caught air from the next step.

Valric landed in a mangled heap at the bottom, a moment later Theodore appeared. “Sorry about that…” Mumbled Theodore sheepishly.

“Bah! Don’t worry about it, a seven floor drop never hurts anyone.” He said in an odd tone as he dusted himself off.

The two found themselves in a dank dungeon. “We’ll it seems we’ve come to the right place.” Muttered Theodore, waving his torch around.

Valric drew his sword and wasn’t surprised to see it was glowing. They came to an ancient iron padlocked door. Valric smashed the lock in two with his sword. They came into another chamber, a lit chamber. It was a fairly large room, it had arched alcoves along all of the walls. Hundreds of candles in a hundred different types of holders lined the walls and the floor. The center pieces of the room were a dozen caskets in the middle.

Valric smiled “this is more like it!”

He walked over to one coffin and ripped the top off. Inside was a young girl she was deathly pale and hauntingly beautiful. Valric winced and drew the stake he made from his belt. One stab and decapitation later, Theodore set fire to the corpse and the coffin. As the corpse burned, an ear piercing shriek almost knocked the two to the floor.

A small door creaked open at one end of the room. “Those strigoi, the ones Mircea was talking about. Don’t ask me how I know, but I know they’re down there.” Said Valric steadily.

Theodore nodded “then let’s end this nonsense.”

The room didn’t look too big. But it didn’t seem like the kind of place anyone in their right minds would want to be anywhere near. As Valric stepped through the ominous archway, the door slammed closed in Theodore’s face.

“Theodore!” Shouted Valric.

He pounded on the door with his fist, unless he had a battering ram on hand.

“Alright strigoi where are you?” He growled at the impenetrable darkness all around him.

L-12 Castle Dracul

“Alright strigoi where are you?” He growled at the impenetrable darkness all around him.

Radu looked at the young knight jumping at shadows. He turned to Ioan, “master? What will you do?”

Ioan chuckled “well my progeny, I haven’t seen a good fight for countless years. But I still doubt that this uncouth fool is worthy enough to become one of my own.”

Radu nodded, with a blood curdling shriek he leaped at the knight’s throat. With a yell, Valric raised his glowing sword to defend himself. Radu swung his scimitar in a downward arc, Valric dodged it and counter attacked. Radu was far stronger then Valric and Theodore combined, but that still didn’t change his fighting style in the slightest. If it did, Valric would have been splattered all over the wall by now.
Then something Radu did not expect happened, Valric disarmed him, seizing his opportunity, he slashed Radu’s chest. The glowing blade was not forged to fight vampires, but they were creatures of the shadow still. Radu stumbled backwards crying in agony as the wound sizzled.

Cursing, he snatched his scimitar up from the floor and counter attacked. Valric seeing his unearthly foe had a weakness, went on an all out offensive. Radu was rewarded with another wound, this one across his side. Growling he dropped his scimitar and leaped at Valric, with every intention of tearing his throat out.

Valric struck first, his sword flashed through the air, slicing through Radu’s neck. The vampire clattered to the floor, clutching his terrible wound.
Valric wiped beads of sweat away. He looked down at the wriggling creature at his feet with a mixture of pity and hatred.

“Perhaps he is worthy after all…” Chuckled Ioan as he materialised out of the darkness.

“Demon!” Spat Valric “You’re the one behind all of this!”

Ioan chuckled “no. That would be my dear brother Laurentiu. If you wanted him, I’m afraid that I’ll have to disappoint you. He seems to have moved on to a greater game. But it does not matter, you and your friend will never again see the light of day.”

Valric swore incoherently and charged, Ioan smiled…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Theodore hammered on the door, tried to force it open. Cursing, he finally gave up. A strange series of sounds caused him to turn around. Dozens of bodies were rising from the coffins. Very few seemed to be of the surrounding villages. They were ragged and thin, most were well groomed and plump. Most seemed to be well dressed merchants or elite citizens, clad in ninjarin silk. Each body had a set of dead vacant, hungry eyes and glistening white fangs.

“Hello there…” Replied Theodore weakly as he counted over a dozen.

Before Theodore could react, Valric’s body smashed through the door in a shower of splinters. He groaned and wiped some blood out of his eyes. “Weigraf was still harder…” He wheezed as Ioan stepped out of the archway.

Valric noticed Theodore wasn’t paying attention to the whole scene.”Whats wrong with yo-“

Theodore gestured to the rest of the room “Ah Valric, I’d like to introduce you to they um… Living dead.”

“I wish you wouldn’t…”

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:Cate cackled.

“Saddle up, boys!”

Then she leaped upon Hans' old horse and rode off.

Grid: R-7
Location: Nearing Daggerfall Spire

It was a wet Monday morning when the Trio trudged into the Wolfpack capital city of Daggerfall. They were chilled, dirty and aching.

“At last.” sighed Hans, sitting in front of Adrian upon the nag they shared, “Daggerfall. I’d kill for an inn with a bathhouse.”

“Quite.” said Adrian.

“I hate Mondays.” said Cate sourly.

She, unlike the boys, was not accustomed to the grimy ways of travel. This was probably the first time her life she had not washed for several days.

The city of Daggerfall was deceptively dark and dreary looking. Daggerfall and the surrounding countryside was in biosphere in itself: it was actually below sea level, nestled between the Sharpfang Mountains, a stretch of craggy rock reaching all the way up to Sharpfang Citadel, and rolling hills of Inner Fell, or the heart of Fell Isle. Down from the mountains crashed the Daggerfalls, a series of cascading cataracts and plunging waterfalls. This forever pounding of water could be heard for miles, and it’s throaty voice was never silent in Daggerfall City. Mist from the falls rested upon everything the wind touched; every house, every person was constantly damp. In this perpetually wet condition, cobblestone streets were impractical and hazardous. Instead the streets were of packed dirt, or, more often, mud. At least the dampness always kept down the dust.

Dust was not even on the list of the Trio’s current worries.

“I want a bath…now.” growled Cate.

“There’s an inn.” said Hans.

“Fine.”

They dismounted and stomped their way toward the inn after tying up their nags.

“You know,” said Hans, “There’s something odd about these buildings…”

“No thatch.” said Adrian, “Very little wood, too. Would get rotten in this mist, I guess.”

Adrian’s assessment was correct. Mildew, mold, rot…all were constant enemies afflicting Daggerfall. Every building was constructed of thick, sturdy stone, all quarried locally.

“Why would anyone want to live here?” grumbled Cate as they pushed inside the inn.

“The Daggerfalls is like what Jewel Reef is to the Dark Foresters.” said Adrian, “It’s hallowed ground.”

“How’d you know that?” demanded Cate.

Adrian toted a book.

“What’s that?” said Hans wearily, “Why The Wolfpack Drink Wolfsbane?”

“No,” said Adrian, “The Complete And Unabridged History Of The Wolfpack, Eighth Edition. With a foreword by Willem Blackcloak, too!”

“Why is the Daggerfalls hallowed ground?” asked Hans.

“According to legend,” quoted Adrian, “The first man of the Wolfpack was unwanted by his prostitute mother. She placed him in a basket and tossed it into the Daggerfalls. Somehow the child lived, and wolves who lived in the caves around the falls raised him as one of their own. When he was twenty-one, this wolf-man rose from the caves, and found his mate, a elfin wild woman, a druid of an animalistic elf tribe. Together they raised many children, and these children grew up in this “Wolfpack”, where the lines between human, elf and animal blurred. As the generations passed, the Wolfpack became less tribally elfish and more roguish. By the time the Classics had landed upon Dametreos, and more humans diluted the once purely elfin forest clans, the Wolfpack had become a band of robbers and highwaymen. They changed little over the centuries, except to continually split into diverse and numerous clans.”

“Whatever.” said Cate. She confronted the innkeeper.

“Three rooms.” she said wearily.

“I’m sorry,” said the innkeeper, a friendly-looking man with a lisp, “I’ve got only two rooms available right now. A big lot of tradesmen came in yesterday and --”

“Fine, we’ll take the two rooms.” said Cate.

Hans and Adrian looked at one another and started to protest. Cate paid the innkeeper and tossed a key at Hans.

“You two can fight over who gets the bed.” she said dismissively.

She turned from them and said to the innkeeper.

“Now, sir, please lead me to your washroom.”

She left them.

“I’m older.” said Adrian quickly.

“I’m taller.” said Hans.

“You are not!”

“Well…almost.”

“Fine, it’s settled, I get the bed.”

“You do not!”

“Do to!”

“BOYS!” bellowed Cate from the hallway.

The other clientele turned and looked and Hans and Adrian. They slumped, defeated.

“You can have the bed.”

“No, you can.”

“I insist.”

“No, I insist…”

Grid: C-8
Location: At sea

Formendacil wrote:"We are Vikings of the Clan Briksnarri!" said Thorgeir proudly. "Natives of Norseland! We were driven east in a mighty storm, and lost at sea for months. I am the jarl, Thorgeir Hakónsson. Who are you, and where are you from?"

"We are from the continent of Dametreos," said the stranger, "specifically from the realm of the Fright Knights. I am Lord Vækadær."

"Lord Vækadær," said Thorgeir, commiting the name to memory. "What is this deal that you spoke of?"

"You know nothing of the lands of Dametreos, do you?" asked Vækadær.

"Dametreos?" said Thorgeir. "I've never heard of it. What about it?"

"You are now in the waters off Dametreos' coast," continued Vækadær. "You are on the edge of a major trade route, from Lion Island and the western Black Falcons, to Boranis Dracis and the southern isles. There are hundreds of ships that ply these waters."

"So what?" said Thorgeir. "We're not afraid of any of them."

"No," said Vækadær, "but you are totally ignorant about them. You know nothing of these lands, of these waters, of the peoples that inhabit them. Your entire way of life is warlike, and it will not be long ere you find yourself at odds with one or more of the great lords hereabouts."

"I'm a great lord myself," said Thorgeir. "Jarl of the Clan Bricksnarri."

"The Clan Bricksnarri is merely the men on this ship of yours. All fine warriors, to be sure, but outnumbered by sheer volume of forces that the local lords can send against you. Each of the kings who own the coastlands to the east can field several thousand-man armies. ONE of them could wipe you and Vikings off the face of the Earth."

"We are good sailors," said Thorgeir. "We can flee."

"But where to?" asked Vækadær. "You know nothing of Dametreos. Unless an unnaturally beneficent luck were to favour you, any hiding place you might find would likely be known to those sailors native to these lands.

"And you cannot flee Dametreos. We are entirely too isolated for you to set out again across the wide oceans. To the north you will find cold and chill long before you will find another civilised land. To the south you will find nothing but sea until long after all the supplies you can carry have given out. To the east you may come to lands, but they are lands of madness, and none has ever returned hither that wished to go back. And to the west... are your lands, far beyond where any Dametreosian has gone.

"You are trapped in Dametreos, Thorgeir Hakónsson, and there isn't a thing you can do about it. If you wish to have any chance of survival at all, and still retain your warlike culture, you will need help. You will need MY help."

"All right," said Thorgeir. "Let me hear what it is you want, at least."

But when they were safely out of earshot the governor turned to the captain of his guard.
“Keep an eye on them, my friend. And keep them away from the caves.”

Burtrand rolled off, still keeping low.
“A shame,” he thought, “she won’t be near as docile when those drugs ware off. Aye, I’ll have my work cut out for me then.”

OOS
Grid: I-24
Location: At sea

“Why?”

Burtrand turned back from his lookout at the prow of the boat. “What?” he said, pocketing the spyglass.

“Why?” Anastasia repeated. “Why are you doing this? Why have you kidnapped me?”

“Ye don’t understand lass.” Burtrand sneered. “It’s nothin’ personal. Just that yer father is tryin’ ta kill our business in your country and I needed some leverage to stop him. Besides, it was Targon who kidnapped ye, not I. You can thank him for that. Oh, an’ don’t worry, I’m sure your parents won’t forget about you for at least another year.” The pirate chuckled, leaning back and watching the anger well up in the girl’s eyes.

“You— You brute! You evil, cruel, cowardly man!” The princess screamed at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “If you were a real man you would fight my father without stooping to these base tricks. Without using young women for leverage! I hope you rot depths of the sea!”

“Ohoe! And I suppose ye’ll be the one to deliver me thence?”

“I just might!” she cried, and sprung at the captain. But quicker then thought, was the hand of the pirate, as it brought it’s sword between the two of them. “Careful, missy. I wouldn’t want to cut any lassies with this cutlass.”

“Go ahead!” Anastasia said, practically spitting out the words. “I’m no good to you dead. Better yet, I’ll jump. Take me home now or I’ll jump!”

“Humph, go on an’ try it missy. It won’t do ye any good. The second ya hit that water I’ll be there with ye an’ before ye can drown you’ll be saved by my little rock. The man I got it from used it to escape an earth demon. I think it can handle anything ye can dish out.”

There was silence as the girl stood there, translating what had been said. Slowly she backed away from the side of the boat and sat down, defeated.

“That’s right girl. You are trapped, an’ nothin’ can save ye now.”

Anastasia stayed awake late that night, keeping an open eye on the pirate until sheer exhaustion drove her to slumber. When she awoke she found herself in a dimly lit place with watery and dripping noises all around. It felt like a cave.

“Mornin’ Princess.” The shadowy sneering face of Burtrand Storm-Rider leered down overhead. “We’re here.”

Forcing her up, the Pirate pushed her off onto a rickety wooden dock anchored into the rock. “You see,” Burtrand began as they made their way along the rock ledge. “A long time ago there was a governor of who was very greedy and taxed his subjects mercilessly, see? Aye, and as a result, got a great amount of trouble. So much trouble, in fact, that when his son took over, years later, he tried a different tact. Smuggling. Aye, an’ that’s how I came to work with him. Why, e’s an old friend o’ mine. Aye missy, don’ ye worry. We’ll be welcome here.”
~
“You are not welcome here, Stormrider.”

It had taken five minutes for Burtrand to be proven wrong. The two of them had footled down the dank, wooden dock and off through a narrow tunnel where they soon halted at a large iron gate. “Smawling!” Burtrand had called through the bars and within seconds a falcon guard had appeared, wielding a dim lantern. “Who goes there?” “Burtrand Stormrider. Ye can tell Smawling I’m here to see him.”

In minutes the governor’s face had appeared on the other side of the bars. “You are not welcome here Stormrider.”

The governor sneered with an air of superiority. “Your rash actions against the crusaders have endangered my operation. I don’t know how, but you’ve somehow managed to draw their attention here. A large group of them landed in Port Blaggart yesterday. They were looking for the girl.”

At this news a little color left Burtrand’s face. How had they found him? Surely it had to be a coincidence. For Burtrand, this was terrible news. But for Anastasia however, it was hope, and a sudden spark leapt up within her. Boldly she stepped out from behind the pirate’s shadow and into the light.

“There, you see Governor,” she said turning up her nose. “they’ve come to rescue me.”

To her surprise the governor recoiled from Anastasia as from an venomous wyrm. Now he rounded on the guard beside him. “You said he was alone!”

“Wha-we-well eh-” the poor guard stammered. He obviously hadn’t seen the princess before going to Smawling, even as Smawling himself hadn’t noticed her.

Anastasia couldn’t figure why she threatened him so much. At the moment, Smawling looked both terrified and furious at once. But that didn’t last long. Now he was thinking. Anastasia could see his eyes darting back and forth across the dark tunnel.

“Alright,” he said at last, producing a large key and inserting it into the iron lock with his knobby fingers. “You may enter. Put the girl in one of the cells,” he was speaking to the guard now. “and Burtrand… You can come with me.”
~
Soon the two of them were alone, holding council in a small secluded room, far from the ears of any guards.

“I ought to have you hanged for this, Burtrand.” Smawling paced back and forth across the grey floor. “By your idiotic actions you have almost assuredly brought us all ruin!”

“What are ye talking about gov’ner? She’s just a girl.” Burtrand stood tall defending his tactics.

“Just a girl?” Smawling croaked. “She’s a princess! What part of keeping a low profile don’t you understand? I don’t need an entire faction set against me!”

“Ah, simmer down little birdie. No one’s going ta find her here. That’s why I brought her here. The Crusader’s have no reason to suspect ye.”

“But she’s seen me you idiot!” Don’t you understand? What if she escapes? Whose story do you think King Robert would believe? And when the rest of the Falcons are presented with the truth, do you honestly think they will hesitate to destroy me, when the only other option is war with the Crusaders? I’ll be locked in the tallest tower of Falcon Spire and you won’t have anymore business in Port Blaggert!”

“She’s not going to escape.”

“Oh no? Is the infamous Burtrand Stormrider a great sooth sayer as well now? Trust me. You wouldn’t believe how unlucky a man in my business can get in this land. The only way to keep her silent is to kill her.”

Burtrand couldn’t argue with what Smawling had said about luck. He’d lost two ships in little over a year. Still, Burtrand didn’t like what Smawling had in mind for the girl. He needed her alive and if the governor wanted to remove the evidence, Burtrand was next in line.

“I don’t like it.” The pirate said carefully. “if kidnapping is trouble then killing her is worse. There must be another way.”

The governor pulled a bony finger across his pointed chin as he thought on the pirate’s advice. Soon a wry smile appeared across his face as he announced that- “There may be another way. We could try… we could try to erase her memory.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ok, I've got one more OOS post in the works for this story line and then that's it.

L-12 Castle Dracul

“Go my children! Show me that you are worthy of my coven!” Roared Ioan.

Valric and Theodore put their backs to the wall and waited for them to come. One particularly fierce looking brute growled and leaped at them. Valric didn’t think, he just swung his sword. The vampiric creature, unlike Radu, did not have a sword in which to defend himself with. Valric’s glowing sword sliced through it’s chest. Shrieking, the thing collapsed, clutching it’s wound. Now with the blood of two of them on the sword, the others hissed and approached warily as the blade began to glow even brighter.

“This time, I think you can do all the work.” Muttered Theodore.

The vampires came in two waves. “Get through the door! We can’t take them all on in here!” Shouted Valric.

His glowing sword was doing a good job of warding them off. Ioan was starting to show signs of impatience. Before Theodore could get through the door, one of them stepped in his way. Yelling, he charged it. The vampire was not armed and was quickly becoming a chopping block. Hissing, it’s claws gouged chunks out of his armour. A filthy nail carved a deep gash in his side. Grunting, he sliced it’s hand off., then drove it’s sword through it’s heart.

“You’ll need wood for that!” Laughed Valric as he grabbed the thing by the neck.

Showing no signs of strain, he half threw the shrieking vampire into the rest. All of them virtually tore each other apart trying to get to the two. Valric jabbed several away while Theodore slammed the door closed on one’s wrist. The two knights raised their swords similtaniously and hacked it off.

“That should hold them off for a few seconds! We can hold them better from the stairs. I know they’ll come, if they don’t that one named Ioan will surely come.” Bellowed Valric as the vampires screams of rage drowned everything out.

The two knights ran up to the stair case and threw a bench and some candle holders in the way. The vampires were strong, too strong almost. The iron door leading to the chamber wouldn’t last forever against them all. The two knights relaxed for what might be their last time. Theodore leaned against the wall while looked over his gashes and his roughed up armour. Valric saw that the wound in his side was bleeding again. He muttered under his breath and shut it out.

A moment later, the door burst open. Two vampires flew at them while the others stumbled over each other in their frenzy. Theodore drew a dagger he had recently acquired from a corpse and threw it. It embedded itself in the first vampire, who laughed at the weak gesture. The two slowed their pace for a fraction of a second so that they could step over the feeble barricade without falling flat on their faces.

Valric made his move, he jumped over the barricade. With a laugh, his sword tore through the wounded vampire’s knee. A second later, Theodore fell on it from the other side. Valric barely dodged a swing from the other one. He jabbed it in the heart, then as it recoiled, he slashed it in the throat.

Seeing it incapacitated he turned his attention to the others.
After several moments of one of the hardest battles the two would ever remember, they had an opportunity to run for it. The two bloodied knights half stumbled up the stairs, keeping them on their toes. One vampire tore a handful out of Valric’s cloak. Cursing, he spun around and cracked it with the flat of his blade. The two were able to reach the top of the stairs and make it to the Count’s bedroom.

Ioan looked over his shoulder and saw Radu getting off his knees. He smiled at him “it seems these mortals were more troublesome then I anticipated. But I’m starting to grow weary of this game.” Smiling, the strigoi faded into the shadows…

Lord_Of_The_LEGO wrote:“You can have the bed.”

“No, you can.”

“I insist.”

“No, I insist…”

Grid: R-7
Location: Daggerfall Spire

Hans and Adrian compromised by giving Hans most of the blankets to sleep upon the floor, while Adrian slept fully-clothed upon the mattress. The arrangement went rather well under the circumstances. They awoke the next morning feeling refreshed and, after a quick bathe, clean. Hans and Adrian cringed when Cate came down to eat with them, but thankfully a bathe had cured her of all grouchiness.

“Good morning!” she said, sliding into a chair beside Hans.

“’Mornin’.” replied Adrian.

Hans, his mouth full, nodded.

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Bagels with toasted cheese.”

“Goody!”

The trio commenced to devour breakfast.

“Now then,” said Cate promptly, wiping her mouth, “What is our plan of action?”

“Somehow get into Daggerfall Spire and find the next clue, all without causing a ruckus.” offered Hans.

“And taking into account that we’re in the capital of the biggest spy and security network in Dametreos, methinks it’s not a good idea to try and sneak in.” said Adrian.

“Can’t we just go up there and say please?” asked Cate.

“It’s worth a shot.” said Adrian, “It’s won’t harm trying.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” said Hans.

Adrian giggled. “Let Cate go at the local archivist with her femininely wiles. That should work.”

Hans snorted. Cate looked affronted but said nothing.

They exited the inn, leaving their nags in the stable, and began to walk toward the towering Daggerfall Spire. It’s front gates were open, and many persons, most dressed in peasant garb, were streaming in and out.

“Well, at least it looks like it is open to the public.” noted Adrian.

“Yeah.” said Hans, “But even if we can get into the archives I have a bad feeling that we’re not going to find anything.”

“Why not?” asked Cate.

“Remember the Forestmen Archives? A lot of the manuscripts were ruined, and it wasn’t a quarter as damp there as it is here. Heck, it’s practically raining!”

“Who knows,” said Adrian hopefully, “We’ve been lucky so far…”

They continued onward through the gatehouse and into the square.

“Where now?” asked Cate.

“Let’s ask someone.” Hans suggested.

He called out to a man passing them, “Excuse me.”

The man turned. He wore a brown cloak, with the hood pulled up against the rain. His eyes were dark and his chin was covered in stubble. He would have looked like any other Wolfpack member except for one strange thing: upon his chest was the black and white emblem of the Black Falcons.

“Yes?” the man asked, not unkindly.

“Er…” Hans was caught off-guard by the emblem. Adrian filled in, “We’re traveling scholars. We were wondering if it would be possible if you could show us to the Daggerfall Library.”

“We’re Cate, Adrian and Hans, by the way.” offered Cate.

The man raised his eyebrows, but smiled.

“Er…” Cate added, “Cate Slacs-Sicl, Adrian Seojton, and Hans Lentawl.”

“Well met.” said the man, “I am Graygon Tillshire-Falconis.”

Grid: C-3
Location: Mt. Greybeard

Formendacil wrote:"He's waiting for us to enter his cave so that he can trap us," said Sir Dractor. "Well, we won't fall in with his plan. We'll wait for Thomas to return with Estella, and then fall back for another assault at another time."

It wasn't too long before Thomas returned out of the cave, leading Estella. He looked somewhat disgruntled, and wasn't any happier upon discovering them all waiting for them.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Where's the dragon?"

"Up there," said Sir Dractor, pointing up. Thomas craned his neck, and saw the dragon perched atop the mountain. He was snorting fire angrily, probably at the sight of his sacrificial maiden walking around rescued.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Thomas.

"I'm not sure," said Sir Dractor. "What we really need to do is to lure this dragon into a fight. He's been very canny and has avoided us thus far. And for all his boldness in attacking Emberlain Castle, he's been rather careful not to fight us so far. I rather suspect he can see or sense something dangerous about us, in which case I'm assuming that Sir Yves was right about my sword."

"So we need to lure him into a fight," said Thomas. "How do we plan to do that?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Sir Dractor. "Any ideas would be welcome."

Thomas pondered for a moment, and then William broke the silence.

"Where's that goblet gone?" he asked. "I lost it when I came out of the cave. Would the treasure work? We lured him out with the goblet once. Could we lure him into battle again?"

"I don't know," said Sir Yves. "He appears to have decided to cut his losses."

"Maybe," said Thomas, "but this is only one goblet. What if we started to remove his whole trove?"

"We'd all have to go into the cave, and then he'd have us where he wanted," said William. "In those close quarters, he'd squash us and fry us."

"We wouldn't all have to go in," said Sir Dractor. "If Sir Yves, Thomas, and myself remained on guard at the cave entrance, while you and your outlaws retrieved the treasure, bit by bit, the dragon would eventually have to attack us, I figure."

"You're right," said Sir Yves. "Dragons are very possessive of their hoards. This one may be willing to let a goblet go, but I don't see him letting us cart off his whole hoard."

"We have a plan," said William Jorgenson. "Let's get started."

Grid: C-8
Location: At sea

Formendacil wrote:"You are trapped in Dametreos, Thorgeir Hakónsson, and there isn't a thing you can do about it. If you wish to have any chance of survival at all, and still retain your warlike culture, you will need help. You will need MY help."

"All right," said Thorgeir. "Let me hear what it is you want, at least."

Vækadær smiled.

"I want you to pillage, burn, loot, rape, and do everything that you normally do. I want you to do so when I ask, where I ask, and according to limits I set you."

"And what do we get out of it?" asked Thorgeir. "It seems we'll be doing all the fighting against your enemies. What kind of a deal is this?"

"You should know, after this fight, that I hardly need your help in fighting my enemies," said Vækadær. "What you will get out of it, as you say, is all the loot from the villages and ships you attack, any slaves or prisoners you wish to take, as well as my protection from the great powers of Dametreos. I will find you places to hide, and make sure that you are always fed, sheltered, and safe, if need be. You have my word."

Thorgeir looked uncertain.

"I do not wish to bind myself, or my clan, to a strange man," he said. "But you present a convincing case. Very well then, Lord Vækadær, the Clan Briksnarri will do as you bid, provided we receive the promised services in return- for a year. I swear upon my axe."

"And I promise that you will be fed, sheltered, and kept safe, for as long as you keep your oath. I swear upon my sword."

Vækadær then prepared to return to the Ragnoir.

"Remain here, at sea, for a week. I have some business to attend to in that time. Then I shall return, to conduct you south and east to my lands, your new secret home. Do nothing foolish in the meantime."

And with a swish of his cape, Vækadær returned to his trireme, and ordered the oars out and a course set for the Iadoraz freeport.