Classic Castle Roleplay: September 2005

[Maedhros]

Grid: K-14
Location: Batlands

Ignazio was in a very bad mood. They had been delayed far longer than he´d hoped but now they were finally closing in on that accursed castle. He was worried sick about Mircea but didn´t let his men see that.

He had managed to gather 26 knights and 50 footmen. A journey through Fright Knight domains wasn´t very good for the morale but this morning they had spotted the faint form of the castle far away. So everyone except Ignazio was in a rather good mood today as they marched toward the crumbling castle that was seen by the horizon.

Ignazio suddenly stopped, he saw a large roup of minifigs down in a nearby valley. After a moment of gazing he realised that they were just serfs. Nothing to worry about, but they could have some valuable information.

He pointed them out to one of the knights and whispered:

"I´ll investigate it, stay here with the rest of the troops. We don´t wish to scare them."

Then he unmounted his horse and walked down to the serfs.

There were about 90 of them and they had built some kind of primitive camp where they lived. They started mumbling as Ignazio came walking toward them in his white and red clothes and silvery armour. He bowed gently and an old woman stepped forth and returned his bow.

"I bid you greetings, people of the Fright Knights. I am Ignazio Torrieschi, High Commander of the Order of the Dragon."

Everyone but the woman backed off. She met his gaze with her proud and strong eyes.

"Well met, milord, I am Cecilya Drazescu. What is your business here?"

Ignazio swallowed and pondered for a few moments but then he decided that it would be best to be honest.

"We are here to defeat the Batlord of Castle Milash."

The woman´s expression changed to something a lot more emotional.

"Are you companions of the knight Mircea?"

Ingazio´s heart jumped.

"You know him?"

She smiled weakly and pointed to a tent.

"I think we need to talk, sir Ignazio."

[Maedhros]

Grid: K-14
Location: A small village

A cloaked stranger sneaked out of a small alley and quickly darted toward a black carriage on the road. He quickly glanced in every direction and then climbed up. He lashed with a whip and the carriage began moving.

A minute later Mircea breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled back his hood and let the cold breeze caress his even colder face. The moonlight illuminated a tiny shining tear of blood coming from his eye and slowly flow down his cheek.

He had killed again.

This was the third time, and the third night since he had left Milash. He always tried to stop in time but they died in his arms. He had never before had such a bad conscience and with each new sunset he wondered if the Dragon had forsaken him, as he had forsaken the Dragon. But he wouldn´t commit suicide, this had in fact given him a new purpose. He would never rest before Laurentiu and his get had died.

He couldn´t distinguish the village anymore and stopped the carriage. Then he climbed down and sat down on the dirty road. He closed his eyes and prayed for the soul of his victim.

Suddenly he stopped, something answered him. A soft voice which sounded like a light breeze:

"Rise, Dragon. Your master has new plans for you."

----------

Zaharia bowed deeply before his master. He had quickly learnt to adopt to his new life as a servant instead of a lord. He had no choice really, it was serve or die, and Zaharia had always been to cowardly to die.

Laurentiu smirked. He really enjoyed seeing the old Batlord bowing low before his throne.

"So, blood-slave. What do you want?"

Zaharia swallowed what was left of his pride and met the gaze of his master. But the force which resided behind those eyes forced him to look down almost immediately.

"80-100 serfs has left the town, master. We don´t know why or where yet, should we send some warriors to get them?"

Laurentiu calmly gazed at Zaharia for a long time and opened his mouth to answer but before he could say anything he felt something strange in his mind.

He closed his eyes and leaned back. He could hear something, something familiar. It called to him. Suddenly he recognized it. A wide twisted smile formed on his face.

"Leave me, blood-slave. I don´t have time for your petty troubles."

Zaharia opened and closed his mouth and looked dumbfounded but after a slight frown from Laurentiu he hurried out.

Laurentiu stood up and traced a strange pattern in the air with one hand, then he cut open his wrist with a small dagger and let three drops of blood hit the stonefloor.

A quiet whisper was heard and after a few moments a transparent light blue shape appeared in front of Laurentiu.
It touched the blood on the floor and whispered:

"I want some more."

Laurentiu smiled and reached out with his bleeding wrist. The shape immediately grabbed it and drank some of the blood. Then it floated backwards a few feet and observed Laurentiu.

"I bid you greetings, spirit of wind. Now use your speed and carry a message to my progeny."

There was a short silence and the shape did something that looked like a nod. Laurentiu continued:

"Tell him that I want him to change his course, the awakening of my brother Costea can wait. I´ve felt a call from the north."

----------

Mircea opened his eyes and gazed at a transparent light blue shape which floated mid-air in front if him. The voice, which seemed to come from the shape, continued:

"You will not travel to Castle Sibiciu yet. Instead, head north, to Castle Dracul. Someone is awakening there..."

[Formendacil]

Grid: A-18
Location: Houshii Province, Ninjarian Territory, Boranis Dracis Island

Elbadar stepped off the ship, glad to back ashore. It had been a long voyage from the Fell Isle, and he was glad to stand on solid ground again. Po Lee gestured him ahead while his men unloaded themselves and their equipment.

"Daimyo Gailin lives in the fortress of Shindar, in the interior," Po Lee told him. "It is a five day trek through rather difficult terrain."

"I remember it," said Elbadar. "It's much the same across the Isle. I was banished to the Dragonsbane Brigade early on in my career, because of my bloodties to Prince Hadadar. That was back in the mid 90s, when there were a lot of border tensions."

"You will understand then," said Po Lee with a nod, "why Daimyo Gailin dwells in the interior, rather than along the more peaceful and more heavily populated coast."

"Yes," said Elbadar, "it's safer and more inaccessible."

"Precisely," said Po Lee. "And under normal circumstances, the Daimyo there would be invulnerable to almost any threat that an off-islander such as Sorgodh could offer. However, with the recent upheavals in Dragonar..."

"Upheavals?" said Elbadar, "what upheavals?"

"You wouldn't have heard of them in the Fell Isle," said Po Lee gravely, "but Commander-General Ajaxx Dragonsbane has been leading a revolt against Lord Void for the past month or more. And since the departure of the Dragonsbane Brigade from Boranis Dracis and the death of Governor Molkoor, Boranis Dracis' Dragonar province has been in a state of upheaval. Furthermore, the locals have just told me that Ajaxx Dragonsbane is now the King of Dragonar, and the new governor, appointed by Lord Void ere his ousting, was a strong loyalist to the old regime."

"Interesting," said Elbadar, "but what it all boils down to for us is that it has been possible for this Sorgodh to land an army in Dragonar for several months now, and march it over the border without anyone interfering."

"Exactly," said Po Lee. "As of when I left, there were reportedly over three hundred Fright Knights or mercenaries in Houshii territory. I'm sure there are more now."

"But what of your own local forces?" asked Elbadar. "I'm still not clear on why your samurai and ninjas are not sufficient defence."

"Houshii is a small province, population-wise," said Po Lee. "There are only a few samurai families, and Daimyo Gaidin does not hire ninjas as do the mainland daimyos. Out here on the Isle, it simply isn't proper."

"Didn't bother them during the war," muttered Elbadar under his breath, then he asked more loudly: "So how many samurai DOES the daimyo have?"

"There are perhaps two hundred and fifty all told in Houshii," replied Po Lee, "but better than half of them are posted in the coastal villages. Daimyo Gaidin has less than a hundred with him at the Shindar fortress."

Elbadar looked back, and saw Corporal Halfstare signalling that the men had totally unloaded, and were ready to march.

"If that's everything," he said to Po Lee, "then lead the way."

[Formendacil]

Grid: Q-18
Location: Envika Sorgodh

Andrei Bartavlo's face appeared in Vækadær's crystal. He was making his regular report to his master.

"Report," said Vækadær.

"Milord, I have received a telaharm from Drazzuil," reported the batlord. "He has located Harold Brakespear. Brakespear died four months ago, leaving no family and no personal papers. I've ordered him to start making his way to the coast, and I told him I'd relay your orders on the road."

"A dead end," mused Vækadær. "And the papers of Augustus Alexander Smith still not found..."

Vækadær pondered that for a moment, then returned to Bartavlo.

"Identify all members of the Smiths' Guild council at the time Harold Brakespear was its head, and find their current whereabouts. Then assign your agents to investigating whether or not they have Smith's papers. Add their reports to your own when contacting me."

"Yes, Milord," nodded Bartavlo, visible in the crystal. "What do you want done with Drazzuil?"

"Send Captain Drazzuil to take command of the regiment I had infiltrated into Dracul province," Vækadær told him. "Remind him that he will be there as an invisible presence, and is not to make himself or his regiment known until I give him the command. Inform him that this may be a long term assignment. Dispatches from either you or myself will be infrequent, and that most commands will come from myself."

"Yes, sir," replied Bartavlo. "I also have a report on the Elbadar situation. The Dragon Masters have landed on Boranis Dracis, and Po Lee reports that all is in place. Captain Del Grakken is proving very susceptible, as you predicted, and our men are in place to move in as ordered. In addition, Daimyo Gaidin remains completely unaware of Sorgodh's death and your takeover of his domain."

"Excellent," said Vækadær. "Any other news?"

"Yes, sir," replied Bartavlo, with a frown. "One of your contacts in Bull territory reports that Count Ollero was not, in fact, the last of his line, but that a cousin of his ruled part of that land under the Falcon occupation. He and his family departed after the recognition of the Bull state, and their current whereabouts are unknown."

Vækadær also frowned.

"Interesting. Have our contacts in Falconis City search the records. If anyone has a record of where these noble Falcons have gone, they will. What was the name of this noble?"

"Arnulf Fredrick Valenti," replied Bartavlo. "Is that all, Milord?"

"For now," said Vækadær. "Excellent work."

"Thank you, Milord."

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

"Maybe Cate," said Adrian. "She's got a lot of connections."

"Yeah," said Hans. "This isn't going to be the best experience I've ever had, asking Cate to get her dad to get me a job."

Grid: J-10
Location: Imperial Archives, Orion

And so, it was on that note that Hans Lentawl and Adrian Seojton found themselves on the doorstep of the Slacsentius Manor on a misty September morning. After silently glaring at one another, daring each other to knock, Adrian sighed and pounded on the doorway none-to-elegantly. The door was opened by the stiff profile of the butler, Daniels.

“Masters Lentawl and Seojton.” greeted Daniels gravely, “I’m afraid Lady Cate is away with Madam. Is there a message you would like me to deliver?”

“Er…” Hans tugged at his goatee, “Well…then…can we see Mister…Master…Sir….er, her dad?”

Adrian grimaced. So did Daniels.

“Master Slacs is busy with affairs of the family.”

“Oh…”

“Eh,” coughed Adrian, “It is most urgent we speak to him on the matter of…”

“…Lady Cate, yes, I understand sirs.” said Daniels smoothly.

Hans went red and Adrian went rigid.

“What! No, I mean, that’s not…”

“Totally not true, man…”

“I quite understand, sirs.” said Daniels, “It must be a friction point between the three of you…”

Adrian burst out laughing, clutching at his side. Hans shot him a glare and snapped at Daniels.

“Just take us to Mr. Slacs, please!”

Daniels inclined his had shortly.

“Yes, sir. This way.”

With Adrian still chuckling, the two homeless, jobless, bachelor teenage scholars were allowed into Slacsentius Manor and led down a hall. Daniels stopped at a large oak door and knocked softly with a white-gloved hand.

“Masters Lentawl and Seojton to see you, sir.”

“Ah, the young suitors! Bring them in, bring them in!”

Daniels opened the door and Hans and Adrian entered. Lord Caius Slacs was at his desk. He set aside the paperwork he had been working on and greeted Hans and Adrian with a genuine smile.

“Greetings and well met, Masters. How can I help you?”

“Er…” started Hans, “This isn’t easy for me to ask, but…”

“We are seeking…” interrupted Adrian, only to be interrupted by Lord Slacs, who laughed.

“I understand, I understand. My, my, this is a sticky issue. Now, I appreciate you coming to me first, but really, I’m not terribly old-fashioned. I think you are both fine lads, and it would be unfair of me to choose one against the other. It would be best if you approached Cate herself on this most joyous of matters.”

All through this discourse Hans and Adrian had listened with growing confusion, then unease, then outright embarrassment.

“Er…” stuttered Hans, “Well, we, er, aren’t here about Cate. Not that we don’t like her! I mean, er, we’re not, er, you know, but it’s not like…!”

Adrian sighed and interrupted again.

“We were wondering if it was possible you knew of any job openings in Orion. We both are seeking work in the scholarly field.”

Lord Slacs stared at the both of them for a long moment, then burst of laughing. He laughed long and hard. Hans and Adrian uncomfortably stood by awkwardly.

“I’ll hire you myself!” said Lord Slacs abruptly, waving at his messy table, “Return from a nice summer vacation and I get bombarded with this lot: paperwork. I’ll pay each of you three cobbles an hour to sort out this mess.”

Hans and Adrian looked at one another. Three cobbles an hour was amazing generous, especially in a job that involved nothing but paper-pushing.

“Done!” said Hans and Adrian together.

“When shall we start?” added Adrian.

“Right now, if you have the time.” said Lord Slacs, moving out from his desk.

Hans and Adrian looked at one another.

“Alright!”

Lord Slacs smiled and stuck out his hand and Hans and Adrian shook it. Then Lord Slacs left. When they were along, Adrian muttered.

“Cate’s better get married fast, either to you or someone else. This courting business is getting on my nerves.”

Hans muffled something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle and began to tackle the paperwork.

[Robin Hood]

He collapsed beside his friend, too wearied to stand, and drove the stick into the ground. He then drew out of his clothes, a bright red piece of cloth. With trembling hands, the elf tied it to the stick. Should anybody pass by them, he would see the cloth and investigate, hopefully finding them before it was too late.

Having done all his weakened body would let him, Kae-Os fell to ground beside his friend and the world turned dark.

Grid: B-15
Location: Boranis Dracis Island, Ninjara side, small hut near the coast.

Kae-Os awoke sometime later, feeling for all the world as though he had never drunk a drop of water. His throat was parched, his lips cracked and bleeding. The elf did notice though that the salt had been washed from his face.

Warily, he opened his eyes. The light that hit them wasn't too harsh. That told the elf that either it was getting late in the day, or he was inside.

Slowly the world came into focus. He saw that he was lying on a woven mat, inside a single room hut. The hut's walls were made out a dark plaster. The room was thatched with dried grass. It was furnished simply. A low table, meant for sitting on the floor beside, was the only large piece of furniture. There were a few cupboards on the walls as well as various jars and boxes on the floor. Two windows were set in opposite walls, but they were curtained. Judging from the light that came through, Kae-Os guessed it to be a little after sunset. Aiden was lying on another mat beside the elf. He looked healthy enough. His breathing was regular and he looked far less pale than he had on the beach. Between the two lay their weapons.

Cautiously, Kae-Os sat up. Apart from his thirst and a slight disorientation that passed in a minute, he felt perfect.

He had just stood up when their host entered through the door. He was a Ninjarin. He was dressed in simple cloths with a large round hat on his head. He carried a basket full of what looked like the contents of a garden.

Placing the basket on the table, the ninjarin bowed.

Responding likewise, Kae-Os said, "Thank you for saving us. If you had not found us, we would undoubtedly have died."

The ninjarin didn't immediately respond. Instead, he poured some water from a jar into a cup and passed the cup to Kae-Os. Sitting cross-legged behind the table, he spoke. "Drink, you are thirsty."

Kae-Os drank half the cup, and then passed it back.

The ninjarin raised his eyebrows. "You must be extremely thirsty. Half a cup should not quench it."

"Perhaps for a man," replied Kae-Os. Who sat down opposite the ninjarin. "But for an elf half a cup is plenty. At least for now."

"Ah yes." Commented the man. His voice had taken on an edge. "An elf. I must be plain with you elf. I find having a creature such as you under my roof repulsive. It is a pity that I happened to be passing by you on the coast."

Taken aback by the man's blunt statement, Kae-Os said, "I beg your pardon. I did not know that we were disliked by the Ninjarin. If you do not mind me asking, why save a being you so hate?"

The ninjarin seemed to take the question as an insult. He remained calm, but his eyes flashed. "I would not leave any being alone to die. Not even a being such as you. It would be a disgrace to let you perish."

Kae-Os inwardly shook his head. The ninjarin culture was extremely different from the others it appeared. In the other Dametreosian countries, elves were generally treated with respect and revernse. Or at least with awe. It seemed that the Ninjarins thought differently.

The ninjarin however said nothing more. He instead began preparing a meal. Saying nothing, the elf remained where he was until the meal was ready. It consisted mostly of rice, carrots, and a strange vegetable that tasted somewhat like a potato.

After the meal was eaten, the ninjarin pointed to the mat. "Sleep. Your friend will not wake until tomorrow. You should rest. That is unless your great elf body does not require sleep." With that, he left the hut.

Deciding that it would be best to sleep, Kae-Os lay down on the mat. Within seconds he was sound asleep.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

"I'll go as well," said Gonderin. "You're going to need someone who knows how to handle a trebuchet. I doubt that many Forestmen do."

"I didn't think that any Forestmen could handle a trebuchet," said Sir Dractor frankly. "Where did you pick up that talent?"

"Don't ask," said Gonderin, "it's too long a story."

"Very well," said Sir Dractor. "I'll leave you to selecting your team then, while I send rangers to Radjar, getting us those men, and informing him of our plans. Oh, and reminding him not to do anything rash."

"That last is most important," said Gonderin. "This plan is risky enough as it is."

Grid: M-5
Location: At sea, off Jewel Reef

Sir Dractor nodded sharply.

“Risky indeed.”

The council broke up at that point. Thomas hovered near Gonderin, unsure what to do.

“Squire Thomas,” said Gonderin suddenly, turning away from another Forestman, “Do you know how to track? Are you skilled at subterfuge?”

“I’m a Dark Forestman.” said Thomas with a nervous laugh.

Gonderin’s think eyebrows drew together.

“That is not an answer. Remember our previous discussion, Squire.”

Thomas hung his head.

“I hunted pretty well back in Hemmerington.” he said, “I guess I know some tracking.”

Gonderin nodded sharply.

“Good. Put these on.”

Gonderin pushed a crumpled bunch of cloth at Thomas.

“What are they?” asked Thomas.

“Moccasins. Superior to boots by leagues. Also, remove all dangly bands, jewelry or other tokens. If you have maille on, remove it. And that has to go.”

Gonderin gestured at the large hammer hung on Thomas’ belt. Thomas put his hand protectively over it.

“No.” he said, looking straight at Gonderin, “It was my grandfather’s.”

Gonderin looked back.

“Muffle it, then.” he ordered, then said, “What weapons are you proficient at?”

“Er…” Thomas hesitated, “Sword, I guess. And I’ve hunted with a bow…but…”

Gonderin looked directly at Thomas.

“I’ve never shot anyone.” admitted Thomas.

Gonderin said, “Then be ready with your sword.”

Then the elf turned away, talking quietly with other Forestmen.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

An hour before dawn the next day, the penetration force came ashore a mile east of the Jewel Reef. There were ten men: Gonderin as the leader, Thomas, and eight Forestmen rangers. They were stripped of all factional insignias and draped in murky browns and greens and grays. Mud was smeared across nine faces, one was darkened by tattoos. Three of them, including Gonderin, had bows. The rest had swords only. No shields, no secondary weapons. The only metal on them was the weapons of the swordsmen and Thomas’ hammer, and they were muffled by rags.

With Gonderin in the leader, they crept forward through the scrub brush, poised between the sandy shores to their right and the thick forest to their left. For half an hour they traveled thus, until they came upon the palisade wall hastily constructed by the Ikrosians.

The Forestmen didn’t bother killing and/or distracting guards to get through an entrance. Neither did they attempt to cut through the palisade. They simply climbed over it. They were no Wolfpack, but Forestmen and Dark Foresters could infiltrate almost as well if they set their mind to it.

Now inside, the penetration force was exposed. Harsh lantern light flickered everywhere; it was hard to find dark shadows to hide in. At last, after several close calls, the penetration force came to the dock.

“Which ship?” asked Thomas, careful to keep his question barely a whisper.

Gonderin’s eyes flicked over the ships quickly.

“That one,” he said, pointing.

The penetration force rushed forward and leapt up the gang plank. While the eight Forestmen dispersed to take care of the crew, Thomas stared in wonder at the ship.

A technological Ikrosian wonder, the trebuchet ship was distinctly unique. It was as long as a schooner, and just as wide. But it had no sails and no forward deck. The poop deck was set low; one could almost hop from the main deck to the poop deck with no stairs. The draft of the ship was deep. The waterline was only three feet from the rails, but there was a second deck below, the oar deck. Long oars stuck out of the sides of the vessel like that of a trireme. And what was most distinguishing of all was, of course, the trebuchet. It was a small trebuchet, only about twelve feet high. Without wheels, it was built right into the main deck. Instead of having a swinging bucket filled with rubble on the arm, several rings of metal, each three inches thick, were spiked into the arm. Right now the trebuchet lay at rest: the arm vertical and it’s sling empty.

“How’s it work?” asked Thomas, agape.

“I don’t know.” said Gonderin calmly, who had stayed behind as watch, “I know how a trebuchet works and I know how a ship works. I didn’t know they could even work together.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” asked Thomas.

“A matter of simple physics. Trebuchets need incredible balance in able to stay upright while flinging such a heavy load. Early trebuchets were made like this one: without wheels, with a large base reinforced, staked down and braced. The kinetic engery generated by an arm twelve feet long, pivoting nearly one hundred degrees and weighted at one end with seven hundred pounds is enormous. Early trebuchets tore themselves to pieces after a few shots or tipped over: all that energy was forced to ricochet through the structure and had no where else to go. Then engineers got smart: they replaced the ring weights with a swinging box. Not only was this easier to construct, but it also helped the trebuchet fling out some excess energy through this box. With the swinging box, the arm lost momentum faster, and siege works were able to reload faster. Then engineers discovering something new: if wheels were added to the frame, the trebuchet was free to expel all it’s energy faster. The swinging of the arm caused the whole trebuchet to roll forward and backward. This rolling back and forth in turn counteracted the swinging, thus causing the arm to come to a stop faster, thus bringing the whole trebuchet to a stop faster.”

Gonderin looked at Thomas.

“Do you understand?”

“I…think so.” said Thomas slowly.

A Forestman approached.

“Sir, the crew has been disposed. We’ve discovered a whole deck of oar slaves below deck.”

Gonderin nodded.

“Good. Then we will be able to move this ship after all. Keep them quiet, but assure them they will be set free in due time, once we are in safety. What nationality are they?”

“They claim Ikrosian.”

Gonderin hid a grimace.

“I see. What about shot? Have you found the shot?”

It was the Forestman’s turn to grimace.

“We have, sir. The problem is…there’s only one left.”

Thomas groaned. Gonderin did not appear to react.

“I see.” he murmured, “Keep two men below decks. I need the rest up here with the trebuchet. Thomas!”

“Yes, si- er, Gonderin?”

“Keep watch.”

Thomas strode to the side of the ship, near the gangplank. Behind him, the sun began to rise. It was most unfortunate.

“You there, whelp!” growled an Ikrosian, “Gerroff that ship!”

“Uh…Gonderin!” Thomas called.

Gonderin glanced over. Ikrosians were beginning to pick up weapons and getting up from camp fires.

“Whochat arming the treb for?” demanded another.

Gonderin did not hesitate.

“Thomas!” he bellowed, kick away the gangplank! Archers, to the front! Rouse those rowers!”

The Ikrosians suddenly realised their precious trebuchet ship was being hijacked.

“Alert Commander DeValle!” shouted one.

Others were grabbing bows while those with blades ran forward. Two were already up the gangplank Thomas had fail to push away. Thomas, screaming, yanked out his sword and barely parried a swing from an Ikros swordsman. Hazily, he heard the voice of Sir Dractor in his head, telling him what to do. The young Dark Forester pulled back and swung his blade at an angle, feinting at the last moment, and twisted it downward in a short cut. The Ikrosian jumped back and his partner came forward, swinging a huge halberd. Thomas desperately held his blade up, blocking a chop, then twirled his blade and stabbed forward. He caught the Ikrosian in the chest, but the man’s maille halted the blade. Never the less the man was winded, and he fell back. Thomas suddenly realised his sword was stuck, tangled in the maille, and he let go without think as the Ikrosian axe man, gasping, tripped and rolled down the gangplank, tripping three others. Thomas was now unarmed, and was facing a growling Ikros soldier with a menacing blade.

The ship at that moment lurched forward as the slaves, goaded by the two Forestmen below deck, dug their oars into the harbor water. Thomas and the Ikros man, unprepared, wavered and both gripped the handrail. The ship surged away from the dock, and the gangplank fell away, sending Ikrosians toppling into the water.

The Ikrosian swordsman leaded forward and swiped at Thomas, who ducked and scuttled sideways like a crab. The swordsman swung again, and this time Thomas tripped and fell. He landed hard on his side, on his hammer. Then Thomas realised something. He was not unarmed.

“Yraggah!”

The swordsman brought his sword down in a killing blow, but Thomas rolled, missing the blade, and sprung up. The Ikrosian was bent over, cursing and trying to pull his blade from the wood of the deck. Without thinking, Thomas pulled out his hammer and pounded the swordsman as hard as he could on the back. The was a sharp crack, as of wood snapping in frigid temperatures, and then the Ikrosian collapsed up his blade. He was already dead.

Thomas froze. He stood there, completely dead to the world around him. Then Gonderin was in his face, yelling and shoving Thomas aside. The elf quickly hefted the body of the swordsman and threw it overboard. Then he looked at Thomas, dark eyes like pools.

“First man.”

It was a statement, not a question. Thomas nodded dumbly. Gonderin simply pushed Thomas aside.

“It is not over yet, young Squire.” said Gonderin, then abruptly shoved Thomas down as a hail of arrows thudded into the ship.

“Not lit.” observed Gonderin, “They want their ship intact. Good.”

“LOAD THE TREBUCHET!” he bellowed as another round of arrows rained down.

Half of the Forestmen disappeared below decks to get the shot while the rest remained, winching the big arm downward and arranging the sling. Gonderin leaped to the poop deck and crouched, peering with squinted eyes. On the main deck, the Forestmen appeared with the shot: a chiseled round ball of stone high as a man's knee and heavier than a chest of gold. They began to wrestle it into the sling when two men cried out. The Ikrosian arrows were beginning to find their mark.

“Thomas!” bellowed Gonderin, “Help them!”

Thomas rushed forward.

“Below decks!” bellowed Gonderin, “Turn the ship two points to starboard!”

“Yessir!”

Like a centipede, the massive trebuchet ship began to turn in place. With one last heave, the shot was rolled into place. Thomas jumped back as the Gonderin directed the proper roping and tying off.

“Where are we going to shoot!” cried Thomas, “We only have one shot!”

“The palisade!”

“But what about the ships!”

Gonderin did not answer.

“Trebuchet ready, sir!”

Gonderin did not hesitate.

“Brace yourselves! Fire!”

A Forestman yanked back a robe, snapping a trigger. The huge counterweight fell downward. The arm was arched upward and the sling whipped out. The shot was propelled upward and out. The counterweight reached it’s max angle, and it swung back. The ship virtually leapt out of water, the bow plunging deep while the steer reared. Everyone was thrown to the deck and the timbers of the ship groan in resistance. Then the splinting of wood filled the air. But it was not from the ship or the trebuchet. A ten foot section of the palisade exploded. Splinters and shards of wood flew into the air, piercing many an Ikrosian. A belated cheer rose from the deck of the trebuchet ship.

“Turn this ship around!” bellowed Gonderin.

The slaves below obey. The promise of freedom spurred them on. The ship quickly turned in place and began to head out of the harbor. It was met square one by the two galleons. They floated side by side, bows forward. The ships were slowly but surely drifting together, effectively blocking the harbor. Thomas groaned.

“We won’t make it in time.”

Gonderin said nothing. He gripped the hand rails. The distance between the three ships shrank.

“Sir!” called a Forestman, “We’re going to collide!”

“Don’t stop rowing until my command!” bellowed Gonderin.

The ship continued forward.

“Arm trebuchet!” ordered Gonderin.

The Forestmen looked at him

“Sir, we have no shot!’ exclaimed one.

“I didn’t say load trebuchet,” snapped Gonderin, “I said arm it!”

“Yessir.”

The Forestmen rushed to the trebuchet, where they began to winch the arm back up. The hulls of the twin ships loomed like a canal. Thomas squinted. The trebuchet ship would just squeeze by if it had no oars, but --

“STOW OARS!” bellowed Gonderin. There was a massed clattering as oars were pulled quickly into the ship. And not a moment to soon. The trebuchet ship slipped in between the two larger ships, gliding forward with decreasing momentum. Then the terrible screening began. The two ships on either side were pressing inward, squeezing the ship in the middle. Below deck, leaks began to spring. Gonderin sucked in a breath.

“FIRE TREBUCHET!”

The mighty siege weapon fired again, this time fling it’s sling upward and whipping the air, firing an invisible payload. The ship rocked and surged forward, scraping and cracking wood as it forced apart the ships and pressed onward like a burrowing mole. As soon as the ship had cleared the hulls of the other two Gonderin bellowed, “OUT OARS!”

The trebuchet ship sprouted legs and at once churned forward. Gonderin sent carpenters below, and then sighed, wiping his forehead. Thomas stared.

“That was amazing!” he said.

Gonderin allowed himself a smile.

“It’s still not over. Not by a trebuchet shot.”

[Formendacil]

Grid: J-10
Location: Orion

Lord Slacs smiled and stuck out his hand and Hans and Adrian shook it. Then Lord Slacs left. When they were along, Adrian muttered.

“Cate’s better get married fast, either to you or someone else. This courting business is getting on my nerves.”

Hans muffled something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle and began to tackle the paperwork.

"This is SO funny!" Cate giggled, crammed behind a tiny kitchen table with Hans and Adrian, in their recently leased apartment. "You two working for my Dad!"

"It may pay well," said Adrian, "but it's no cakewalk, I can assure you. We're earning every penny. It's a nightmare, I tell you."

"And it's really not a temporary job either," said Hans. "It could easily take a couple weeks, if not a couple months, to sort it all out."

"Well, you've got jobs, haven't you?" said Cate. "And now you've got this awesome place."

"You can call it awesome," grumbled Hans, "you don't have to live here."

"What's the matter?" asked Cate. "It doesn't leak, does it?"

"No," said Hans, "but the walls are thin, and Adrian snores."

"I've heard no proof of this yet," said Adrian with a grin.

"Of course not," said Hans, "you were asleep. Actually, it wasn't too bad, not nearly as bad as those kids in the next set of rooms."

"Oh, they were bad," agreed Adrian, "where ARE their parents all night?"

"You guys," laughed Cate. "You're making this out to be a lot worse than it is. Come on now, admit it."

"Maybe we are," said Hans at the same moment that Adrian said, "We most certainly are not." Cate laughed.

"Well," she said, squeezing past Hans to get away from the table, "I should go. It's getting dark, and Dad doesn't want me out too late. Not that he doesn't like you guys," she added with a mischievious smile. "He's quite torn as to which of you I ought to pick. But anyway, I've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Right," said Adrian. "Since when does a light breakfast, followed by a leisurely morning, with a dainty noon meal, and an afternoon stroll, ending with a rich supper, qualify as 'busy'?"

"For your information," said Cate, "I'm supposed to be learning accounting so that I can manage the estates once my parents are dead and gone and I'm married to one of you."

Hans blushed and Adrian grimaced. Cate laughed.

"What are you up to tomorrow?" she asked.

"I think we have to go in to the Archives," said Hans. "Your dad wants some data about vinyards in the Wells Earldom to compare with."

"That reminds me," said Adrian, "I looked up your "Earl of Wells", that Nathaniel guy, and he's not J.R.R. Nathaniel, who wrote the Lord of the LEGO."

"Speaking of reminders," said Hans, "I wanted to look up more about the Earl of Wells. We can do that tomorrow, if we time our trip for around our lunch break."

"I'll meet you there," said Cate. "I'll need a break as well. I hate numbers. Well, see you, boys!" And blowing a kiss at them, Cate descended from the stairs, and out of their flat.

"Well," said Adrian, "I recommend you get started on sleeping, if you want to beat my snoring, because I'm dead on my feet."

"Last one to sleep gets the smudgy quill tomorrow," said Hans.

[SavaTheAggie]

"I, Sir Kullvox, Lord of the Knights of the Lion's Crest, servant of King Ulmerad and his bloodline, pledge to you all of my knowledge of the secret you seek if bested in single combat."

"Excellent," Dahnaris smiled, "Let's begin."

Grid: L-5
Location: Inland, Vice-Admiral Dahnaris' Temporary Camp

The two men stared at one another, swords drawn, a pair of gladiators ready to fight to the death. The two were so terribly different, and yet so eerily similar. One used might and power to bend the world to his King's whim, and the other for the greater good in the name's of Kings passed. One was bent on conquest and absolutely loyalty to his King; the other on the preservation of an ancient code and honorable way of life.

And yet, though so very different, they both were as blood thirsty and merciless as the other, letting so very little stand between their goals.

Vice-Admiral Dahnaris, the obidiant soldier, was ready to give his life for his King, willing to risk it all for the glory and wealth and privilege that came with success.

Sir Kullvox, the Wanderer, the mysterious cloaked figure of so many nightmares, had spent his life defending the only way of life he ever knew, defending those who could not defend themselves, seeking not glory nor wealth nor privilege.

And here, in this secluded section of the Dark Forest, these two opposing forces were ready to do battle, ready to spill yet more blood in their campaigns.

"I'm not sure I even understand why you are still fighting, old man," Dahnaris smirked, slowly walking in a large circle with his fighting partner. Kullvox slowly walked the same circle on the opposite side, shaking his head slowly.

"You fight out of anger and hate, I fight out of loyalty and conviction."

"Noble words, dear sir," Dahnaris chuckled, "but words cannot save you now."

"I defeated you once before, Dahnaris, do not forget that."

"Ahh, but that was over ten years ago. I have grown stronger and more skilled, whereas you have whithered and aged."

"If you say so," Kullvox smirked, raising his sword into their invisible circle. Dahnaris slowly raised his sword in turn, raising an eybrow.

"En guarde!" Dahnaris shouted, lunging at the elder knight. Kullvox quickly dodged the attack, sweeping wide around his opponent. Dahnaris attacked again, attempting to use his opponent's blocks to catch him off guard.

But it was to no avail, the master swordsman that he was, Kullvox easily parried each attack. It wasn't until Kullvox went on the offensive, did he realize just how more skilled Dahnaris had become.

Attack after attack, Dahnaris blocked Kullvox' blade just as he had been blocked. Blow after blow, the two sparred evenly, blocking each and every attack, neither landing a single blow.

"I am impressed," Kullvox smiled, taking a few steps away from his opponent, "you truly have improved."

"Why thank you," Dahnaris bowed, also stepping back. The two stood once more, staring each other down, but only this time to catch their breaths.

"So tell me, old man," Dahnaris began, "When did you become a Knight of Ikros, certainly your King Garren would have recognized you."

"I highly doubt that," Kullvox smirked.

"And why is that?"

"When I said I served King Ulmerad and his royal bloodline, it was because I was knighted nearly a millennia ago, by the great King Ulmerad himself."

"That cannot be..." Dahnaris said under his breath.

"I have lived through more war and death for ten lifetimes, most of which caused by Garren and the three generations of so-called Kings before him. Garren is no King of mine, Dahnaris."

"You lie, no man lives so long."

"Aye, that is true," Kullvox nodded, "no man does live as long as I have, but I ceased being a man long ago."

"...demon!" Dahnaris stammered.

'Perhaps," Kullvox chuckled, "All that I am sure of is that I was changed when I was devoured by the great wind of death. And the death of that wind gave me unnatural life, a life that I have used to undo the sorts of evil you and your men take part in with every breath."

"No! You are the one that is evil! You seek to overthrow the great King of Ikros! You would betray the crown you claim to have sworn to serve!" Dahnaris called out in defiance.

"Garren is a false King, ruling with a stolen crown over a country he does not deserve!"

"My lord Garren is a great King! He has made Ikros strong and powerful! He has sent his mighty armies across the seas to strike down that which would do this world harm!"

"What, like these people living here? These simple folk would seek to do the world harm?" Kullvox raised his eyebrows.

"The people of this land are savages! They must be conquered or cleansed from this land so as not to do it or themselves further harm!"

"You talk in riddles, dear Dahnaris," Kullvox smiled, "No great King of old would order the wholesale slaughter of simple farm folk. I know, I have served great Kings."

"I have served King Garren my entire life, he has never lead me wrong!" Dahnaris was beginning to break down, Kullvox could see it. It was almost as if the obedient soldier within him had muffled and silenced the inner voice of sanity and common sense, but now there seemed to be an conflict within Dahnaris. It almost seemed as if the good, decent man that lay hidden within him was struggling to break free of the warped reality the obedient soldier had created.

"You have tortured and are holding an innocent woman hostage in a foreign land, claiming she carries a secret that, in itself, makes her an ememy of the state. How is that not wrong?"

A torrent of emotions raced through Dahnaris' eyes. There was no longer any focus, no ice-cold self control left within him.

"Be silent!" Dahnaris shouted, gripping his sword tightly.

"Look at what you have done, Dahnaris," Kullvox pleaded, "You conquered an innocent land for the soul purpose of capturing peasants. You slaughtered thousands of farmers and simple folk on the Daravinian fields..."

"Silence!" Dahnaris shouted louder.

"...you have enslaved entire nations all for a King who's only thirst is for power and blood and who is not afraid to sacrifice even his most blindly obedient soldiers. You have betrayed all that it means to be an Ikrosian; you have become nothing more than a mass-murderer of the highest order!"

"I have always served Ikros and my King!" Dahnaris shouted, charging the elder knight in a blind rage.

Kullvox quickly side-stepped the man, swinging his sword quickly through his mid-section, slicing he man in twain. Dahnaris fell to the ground quickly, not making a sound. He only stared wide-eyed in shock, gazing into the black abyss into which he was about to travel.

"No, Dahnaris," Kullvox said, kneeling next to the man, "to serve Ikros is not to serve its' King, but to serve its' people. Just as the people serve the King of their land, so too must the King serve his people. You would do well to serve the will of the people as devotedly as you serve the will of their King."

Kullvox slowly returned to his feet and held his sword aloft over the fallen soldier beneath him, still clinging to life. Kullvox thrust his sword quickly through Dahnaris' neck, severing every major vessel, quickening his inevitable end.

"The people have spoken," Kullvox spat, yanking his sword from the now lifeless corpse of the Vice-Admiral.

The remaining Ikrosian soldiers, upon seeing the death of their leader, and the skill of his executioner, quickly dropped their weapons and fled back towards their base camp. Kullvox slowly cleaned his blade with a cloth at his belt, walking over to Olivia, still bound.

"Kullvox, please, we must hurry," Olivia struggled against her bonds.

"Why? What has happened?" Kullvox quickly cut the ropes at her arms and legs. Olivia lept into the old man's arms, hugging him tightly, burying her face in his neck, weeping.

"Dahnaris has sent troops to kill my son! Please! We must save him!"

"By all means," Kullvox said, holding her close for only a moment.

"Go, I will find you, you'll move faster without me," Olivia sobbed.

"As you wish, my Queen," Kullvox said softly.

[Maedhros]

She smiled weakly and pointed to a tent.

"I think we need to talk, sir Ignazio."

Grid: K-14
Location: Batlands

They were sitting in a small dimly lit tent. There was nothing inside but four blankets and a small fireplace.

"How long have you known him?" Cecilya asked with her eyes meeting Ignazio´s.

"He became my squire when he was seven."

"And how old is he now?"

"Hm... I was 23 by then... So, it should be 29."

Cecilya stood up and began pacing around the room.

"What did he come from?"

Ignazio sighed. He was getting annoyed by this but he decided that it would be best to let her ramble on until she got to the point.

"He was a simple peasant. I discovered his talent when he was playing with some friends. A lot of knighrs scoffed when I let him become my squire but I think he proved very well that nobility isn´t everything."

Cecilya stopped pacing and gazed at him.

"So he´s not of noble blood?"

"No, in fact there were some foul rumours about him."

"Foul?"

"Well, some people say he´s a Fright Knight. And since his name is Mircea it could be true, but Fright Knight names aren´t uncommon around Dashria."

Cecilya looked away and turned her back on him.

"The rumour are true."

"But how?"

"Never mind."

She turned back to him and looked determined.

"Would my people be welcome in Dashria?"

Now Ignazio stood up as well. This was too much.

"What? Please, can´t you tell me something that I want to know?"

Cecilya coldly met his gaze.

"Very well, Mircea and his entourage went to the castle and got slaughtered. And that´s not all, something has awakened within the castle, something truly evil. We are refugees. Every moment we stay is dangerous. The warriors from the castle could come here anytime."

Ignazio stared dumbfounded at her and lowered his gaze.

"OK then, your people would be welcome", he stammered with a weak voice.

Cecilya smiled and weeped, Ignazio wasn´t sure if it was sorrow or happiness.

"Thank you, then I can do what I must do and know that they will get a better life."

"And what´s that?"

She wiped the tears out of her eyes and smiled.

"Follow Mircea, he´s alive and heading north, why I do not know. Care to join me, sir?"

[lemon_squeezer2]

Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson looked at the chewed-up body of the young Viking lad. He grunted.

“And a-cursed serpents. Not many a ship would survive those three hazards long enough to make berth here.”

At that moment, Norbrik’s scouts returned. Between them walked a man.

Girard was unceremoniously pushed towards Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson and made to sit down rather forcefully. He cautiously glanced at the mangled body as it was taken away by two other men. His thoughts were broken when Thedrikfjörge addressed him.
"Who are you? My men have told me you were spying on our camp."
Girard stammered a bit. "Please sir, I - er... That is to say I am - or was alone on this island - stranded you might say." Girard noticed Thedrikfjörge was squinting a bit. "I assure you sir - I was not spying."
Bjeorsson scratched his ear. "Stranded ye say? From where?"
"I am a Black Falcon from the mainland - the continent of Dameteros." He pointed east. "I was in charge of the 1st fleet of Falconis XXIX, commisioned by the honorable Marqu..."
Thedrikfjörge waved his hand in a downward motion. "You need not trouble me with details. I am Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson - the captain of this group."
"Were do you come from?"
"Kjellenburg. I was ordered to start a new settlement, but it seems we have gone a little farther then we intended to." He laughed dryly. "You know the area well?"
"Most of it. I have been here for almost nine months."
"Good. I hope you will help us then. My ships are damaged, our stores almost gone, and almost half of my men are sick. You will help - won't you?" Thedrikfjörge fingered the hilt of his sword.
"Yes - most assuredly." Girard had not failed to notice Bjeorsson's subtle hint.
"Excellent. My men will get you some new clothes and you can start."

[Maedhros]

Grid: K-13
Location: An inn by the road

The inn was dark and gloomy. There were only five tables and except Mircea there was only one guest there, a drunken villager sitting with his head on the table sleeping. Mircea sat in the darkest corner and contemplated the fire which illuminated the room.

A young and beautiful barmaid came out from the kitchen and walked up to Mircea. She curtsied and smiled gently.

"Good eve, stranger. Want something?" She said in a cocky and alluring voice.

Mircea glanced slyly at her. She was dressed in a simple brown dress. Her skin was smooth as the best ninjarian silk and her hair was black as the night. Her face was very attractive, very attractive indeed, and her white smooth neck entranced him. A vein pulsated and he could hear her heart pounding. There was a sweet scent of blood in the air.

He quickly looked down at the table. Not tonight, he thought.

"I want nothing. Leave me." He said in a low voice with a slight menace.

But the girl didn´t get the point, or maybe she saw the menace as something exciting.
She leaned on the table and tried to catch his gaze.

The scent became stronger and the warmth of her body enticed him as well. She smiled seductively but Mircea just lowered his gaze even more.

"I said leave me", he growled.

But she didn´t. He felt his inner Beast rage inside him and his fangs pierced his lip. The taste of his own blood made the Beast rage even more and he could barely contain it. Blood sweats began to erupt on his forehead.

"Go, girl! Now!" He shouted but it was already too late.

In a moment he had toppled over the table and caught her in a deadly embrace. She struggled for a second but his strength was overwhelming. And then his fangs pierced her skin and she with a slight moan stopped struggling.

The sweet taste in his mouth, the warmth of her body, the beating of her heart. Mircea´s heart began to beat again and the passion intensified. There was nothing in the whole world except he and the nameless mortal girl.

And as quickly as it had begun it stopped. Her heart stopped beating and she was dead.

It all came back to him and he lay down her body on the floor. He could feel tears of blood running down his cheeks but he couldn´t stay. He hurried out of the inn and quickly got onto his carriage.

As he left the tiny hamlet he heard a voice crying out in anguish from the inn.

"Monster! You will rot in the deepest pits of Megabloks!"

Mircea wiped the blood from his cheeks and nodded slightly.

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Dale smiled.

"I look forward to it."

Grid: P-10
Location: Hemmerington

The next day, Dale wandered about Hemmerington by himself, viewing the rest of the buildings clustered around the main street. He was passing the “Pu”, a pub with an incomplete sign that yielded an amusing result, when suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He could hear strains of music. He fingers twitched unconsciously, plucking the strings, pressing the frets. Slowly, Dale followed the music, a jaunty, joyous tune, down the lane, to where a man sat on a log, strumming energetically on mandolin. Dale stopped ten paces away from the man and remained quiet until the music was over.

“That was…beautiful.” breathed Dale.

The man looked up and smiled. He uncrossed his legs and stoop, setting aside his instrument on the stump.

“I’m glad you like it, good sir. I must admit I have not seen you before.”

“My name is Dale,” said Dale, offering a hand, “I’m new to these parts.”

The man took the hand and shook it firmly. Dale could feel the a musician’s calluses in the grip.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dale. I’m Felix Ffluffingar, ex-troubadour and bard to His Late Majesty King Barbarossa of the Royal Knights, now unofficial prime musical entertainer of kind residents of the Dark Forest village of Hemmerington.”

Felix was a short man, with baggy gray pants and a colorful indigo shirt that bordered on the flamboyant. His hair was wavy and burnt orange, as was his moustache and goatee.

“The pleasure is mine.” replied Dale.

He gestured at the mandolin.

“That is a beautiful instrument.”

“Isn’t it?” chuckled Felix, picking it up and stroking it fondly, “I made it myself. I suppose I’m a sort of woodworker, too.”

Dale reached out and touched a sting. It thrummed with an almost magical tone.

“You’re a musician too, aren’t you?” asked Felix abruptly.

Dale was startled.

“How did you know?”

Felix shrugging.

“There are some things a person just…knows.”

Dale nodded and smiled.

“You are correct, partially. I was a musician. Not any more.”

Felix raised his eyebrows.

“Oh? Why not?”

“I died.”

Felix stared at Dale.

“There is another thing a person just knows, Dale. You do not lie. I am most eager to hear this tale.”

Dale sighed and smiled faintly.

“I would have thought all of Hemmerington knew by now.”

“I don’t dally much in gossip, despite the fact it’s the national sport here.”

“Very well.”

And so Dale told his tale to Felix as he had told it to Alice. Felix sat cross-legged the whole time, the mandolin in his lap, staring all the while at Dale. When Dale was done, Felix whistled.

“Now that is tale I would like to sing about.” he said. “But you’re completely alive now, are you not? What prevents you from taking up the instrument again?”

“I lost my guitar…” said Dale, then at last said, “and I can’t remember how to play?”

Felix snorted.

“No one forgets how to play an instrument! It’s like riding a horse: once you learn, you never forget!”

“I have.”

“Nonsense! It takes just a little goading to get it all back. And the matter of the guitar is not an issue. I’ve got at least three spare ones at home and all they’re doing is gathering dust. You can have one, and so help me, I’ll tutor you myself if I can wring a few notes out of you.”

Once again, the immense generosity of the residents of Hemmerington overwhelmed Dale.

“But what can I do in return?” asked Dale. He received the same reply he had received from Mistress Korvalt.

“Do whatever you can to aid the village in the harvest. That’s payment enough for me.”

Dale smiled.

“Thank you, Felix.”

“Not at all, Dale, not at all.”

[Lord_Of_The_LEGO]

Girard was unceremoniously pushed towards Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson and made to sit down rather forcefully. He cautiously glanced at the mangled body as it was taken away by two other men. His thoughts were broken when Thedrikfjörge addressed him.
"Who are you? My men have told me you were spying on our camp."
Girard stammered a bit. "Please sir, I - er... That is to say I am - or was alone on this island - stranded you might say." Girard noticed Thedrikfjörge was squinting a bit. "I assure you sir - I was not spying."
Bjeorsson scratched his ear. "Stranded ye say? From where?"
"I am a Black Falcon from the mainland - the continent of Dameteros."

There was a murmuring among the Vikings. Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson and Norbrik glanced at one another.

“There is land nearby? A continent?” said Norbrik gruffly.

Gerald nodded.

He pointed east. "I was in charge of the 1st fleet of Falconis XXIX, commisioned by the honorable Marqu..."
Thedrikfjörge waved his hand in a downward motion. "You need not trouble me with details.

“I am Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson - leader of what remains of my clan. This is--”

Norbrik roughly pulled Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson to one side, away from Girard.

“Should we trust this Skraeling? He is a stranger. He is not of our clans.”

Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson shrugged, lifting broad, muscled shoulders.

“He’s only on man. If he displeases us, we can just kill him. And I think he knows that.”

Norbrik shrugged in reluctant agreement. They both turned back to Girard.

“And I am Norbrik Ogbriksson.”

"Were do you come from?"

Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson and Norbrik glanced at one another.

"Kjellenburg. I was ordered to start a new settlement, but it seems we have gone a little farther then we intended to." He laughed dryly. "You know the area well?"
"Most of it. I have been here for almost nine months."
"Good. I hope you will help us then. My ships are damaged, our stores almost gone, and almost half of my men are sick. You will help - won't you?" Thedrikfjörge fingered the hilt of his sword.
"Yes - most assuredly." Girard had not failed to notice Bjeorsson's subtle hint.
"Excellent. My men will get you some new clothes and you can start."

Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson and Norbrik moved away from Girard.

“If this Skraeling speaks true.” said Norbrik, “We might be not a-cursed after all.”

Thedrikfjörge Bjeorsson nodded, scratching at his braided beard.

“Aye. If this be just an island off the coast of a continent, then we might just survive this cursed expedition after all.”

[Formendacil]

Grid: M-5
Location: At sea, off Jewel Reef

“That was amazing!” he said.

Gonderin allowed himself a smile.

“It’s still not over. Not by a trebuchet shot.”

Nor was it. The two Ikrosian ships set to guard the entrance to the harbour gave chase, and the two ships sent by Commander DeValle were already after them.

"Thomas!" called Gonderin, "take the helm!"

Thomas grabbed the helm, as the Forestmen set about preparing to be boarded.

"How many to the starboard?" shouted Gonderin.

"About 110, sir!" shouted back a Forestman.

"Just over 400 Ikrosian troops, all told," said Gonderin more quietly, sounding satisfied. "Sir Dractor's conjecture was about right. There are few enough soldiers on shore that the Dark Foresters should succeed in their task."

"The other ships are gaining!" came Thomas' voice. "It must be their sails!"

"With a good wind, a sailing vessel can easily beat a galley," said Gonderin. "We haven't far to lead them, though. A point more to shore, Thomas! Make them think we intend to run her aground."

"Sir!" said the nearest Forestman ranger, "the waters here are mighty shallow. We might just do that!"

"Then so be it," said Gonderin. "Meanwhile, arm the slaves as best you can. See to it that all are able to flee or fight if need be. Assuming that they can help us, we should have no need to bring the fight back to Jewel Reef with the ships. We'll outnumber the Ikrosians quite well."

~~~~~~~~

Not far away, the Forestman fleet sat waiting.

"Admiral!" the Sea Elk's captain shook Sir Dractor awake. "The sun is rising, and the mist is starting to disperse."

"Has Radjar sent the signal?" asked Sir Dractor.

"The ancient pine south of Jewel Reef is ablaze," affirmed the captain. "Jewel Reef is being attacked, and our men have led the Ikrosian fleet away."

"Excellent. Things are running more or less as planned, for once in a lifetime. Bring the ships around, and have all the men ready for boarding. Send the Dark Foresters to the front lines."

"Sacrificing them first?" queried the Forestman captain.

"They're better armoured," said Sir Dractor. "As I've told you Forestmen before, armour is a key element in many battles."

"If you say so, Your Excellency," said the Captain. "But I'll take lincoln green anyday."

~~~~~~~~

The fire behind them lit up the early, dim morning, and hid somewhat the movements of the Dark Forest army as it moved forward to advance on the breach in the palisade. But they were not hidden enough for Commander DeValle not to see what was happening.

"Order all men to the breach!" he ordered. "Stop the savages from fleeing! I want hostages."

"Too late, sir!" reported a soldier. "While the men headed to the ships to deal with the thieves, most of the village broke out. It would seem that they had forewarning."

DeValle scowled.

"Form up a No-Tail Scorpion! We're going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. Let's show these country bumpkins what a real army can do."