Allow me, GundamWolf.

All right, everyone, here is the new adventure board. This board requires the rules posted on the Sword and Sorcery Discussion board. I will repost every adventure post made on that previous board to this one, using the original author's name. This is purely for the sake of continuity, I am not taking over your characters. I don't have any place to keep them, my closets are full. Enjoy yourselves, and remember:

NO POKEMON!

At the tavern...

And so, I was cornered. Nowhere to run... but then I saw a flint! Remembering the words the old man told me, I threw the flint at the creature, hoping the old man was not as crazy as he looked... and it was slain!

People clap.

Ugly guy: How do we know that's true?

Because I have the creature's eye!

Displays the eye. People cheer.

Non-ugly guy: Get him another drink!

(The tavern door swings open, and a figure steps out of the stormy, cold night. Shaking the rainwater from his brown, coarse cloak, he walks across the common room to an empty table. He motions for an ale, then sits back to survey the room with interested eyes.)

Who are you? Where do you come from? And you know you must have a story to tell if you want our finest ale, and not the filth they serve to any-old-body.
Everyone except the Stranger laughs

Na, pulling your leg. But you look mysterious, like you've got something to tell.

Well, I come from a very far-off land, I doubt any of you have heard of it. I'm just taking a...I'm just wandering around this land, looking for any adventure, perhaps a profitable one. You are a knight, sir?

(takes a drink of ale)

Mmm. This place is better than it appears. My name? Call me...Keeran.

(takes another drink)

So what is the name of this establishment? I only saw the bunch-of-grapes tavern sign outside, I didn't catch the name. It's a fierce storm outside.

(Keeran reaches back and lowers his hood, revealing the hilt of a silvery two-handed sword in a scabbard on his back.)

I am a Knight, Keeran. Is it Sir Keeran or just Keeran?

Well, the tavern doesn't really have a name as far as I know, most people call it the "[Rooster] and Bull" because of the stories people tell!

An adventure you say? What sort of adventure?

(Keeran the Stranger takes another sip of his drink.)

Well met, Sir Knight. No, I don't think you would recognize any titles I may have, and I don't think revealing them would be beneficial. I am just Keeran the Stranger here.

What sort? Well, any sort of adventure, as long as we might find some treasure or a valuable item. I would advise waiting until Friday, though.

(Keeran smiles and finishes his ale.)

May I buy you a drink? Bartender, another round.

A young boy, perhaps 10 or 11, wearing a blue herald's robe with a purple sash, walks into the tavern. He looks around for a minute, then walks over and hands Sir Bowen something, and says:

"I was told to give this to a man matching your description. I hope you're the right person."

He turns around and leaves, running out of the piece of parchment, and a map. The parchment says 'Sir Bowen, your services are needed in Thornbriar as soon as possible. I cannot expound on this further until we meet in person; the danger is too great, the circumstances most dire. Come to the Bumbling Badger, at the edge of town. I will be there for a week. If I am not there, one of my representatives will be. As many allies as you can bring with you will be greatly appreciated....and rewarded, if they accomplish the task I have in mind.'

There is no signature on the parchment. The map shows that Thornbriar is at least a four days' ride from your present location.

A man dressed in silver and black walks into the bar. He is carrying a lute, and his left hand appears to be made of silver.

Greetings gentles all!

Noman Gilinde Celebrimbor am I, a bard of the harp. Barkeep! A glass of your best elvish wine, please!

There is a loud disturbance outside the tavern; a crashing sound, followed by the sound of at least three horses passing by at full gallop, and finally the swift, sharp sound of blades being drawn!

Anyone who looks out of the tavern sees two seedy looking men in dirty leather armor armed with shortswords attacking another man. He is wearing a blue cloak with a hood that hides his features, and black studded leather armor, with small spikes on the shoulders and the wrists, and is seemingly defenseless. As the two thugs move in to attack, he reaches back and draws two strange-looking swords; both are double-bladed, with him holding each weapon by a handle in between each blade. Each blade is a strange silvery color, and the handles are made of what appears to be onyx.

(The ales arrive, and as Keeran hoists his, he spots movement through the dirty window of the tavern. He motions to Sir Bowen, and together they watch the man in black and blue draw his weapons against the ruffians.)

Got to admire courage, although the hooded one out there looks fairly confident. Shall we examine the situation at first hand, Sir Knight?

(Keeran drops several coins on the table to pay for their drinks, winks and tosses another coin to the pretty serving girl, then he casually makes his way toward the door.)

The two thugs move in, too stup.d to be intimidated by the man's unusual weapons. There are a series of clangs and clashes as blades are parried. One of the two thugs tries to slash at the man's throat, but he dodges, punches the thug in the face, then kills him with a wicked blow to the chest that cuts right too the bone. The man backs up as the body falls, spinning the strange double-swords in his hands, then dodges the other thug and decapitates him. Undaunted, he replaces the weapons in their scabbards behind his back, then steps into the tavern.
He looks around for a few seconds, then reaches up and pulls back his cloak's hood, revealing....

He looks around the room for a few seconds, then reaches up and pulls back his cloak's hood, revealing...uh, oh! bathroom break! (Just kidding!)...shoulder-length black hair and a mustache and goatee. He had piercing, dark blue eyes the color of sapphires. He announces to the room:

'My name is Dhalric Blacksilver, and I just killed two pieces of scum working for the thieves' guild. Let those who witnessed this know that I will brook no interference from their ilk! Anyone who crosses blades with me doesn't live to make the same mistake again!'

He walks over to the bar, sits down with his back to the wall, and orders a glass of the tavern's finest ale. He seems to be staring at Keeran as if he knows him.

(Keeran looks at the newcomer Blacksilver as if he's seen him before. He searches his memory but comes up with nothing. So he shrugs and takes a sip of ale.)

Ahh. Well met, neighbor. One couldn't help but be impressed by the way you handled those ruffians. Have you angered the local thieves' guild in some way?
(Keeran looks around and notices that most of the patrons of the tavern have moved to different tables, farther from his, Bowen's and Blacksilver's, and seem to be nervously staring at the imposing man in black. Keeran laughs.)

I think you startled them with your little speech, neighbor. Well, when they get deep into their cups they will probably forget all about it. From where did you come?

The man is leaning backwards, his hands in a triangle position before him, a grim look on his face

I have come from the region of vile darkness known as the Shadow's Maw. There I encountered a strange old woman who showed me a vision after I rescued her from the clutches of a pack of zombies. In the vision, I saw you and your friend in the strange armor fighting, and dying in agony. Unfortunately, I could not see what you were fighting, except for a long, red arm with flames surrounding the hand. I asked around and found out who you are, and I followed you here after you left the last town you were in. I feel I must accompany the two of you on your next mission, whatever it may be.

The man with lute walks over to the table where Dhalric and Keeran are sitting.

Greetings good sirs! My pardon... I did not mean to eavesdrop, but did I hear you say you were going upon a quest? Mind if I sit down?

Sits down without waiting for an answer. He appears to be just this side of middle-aged, with black hair, deep brown eyes, and a neatly trimmed mustache. Up close, it can be seen that it is not a gauntlet, but that his left hand is definitely made of silver, and even more strange, there appear to be no mechanical joints in his hand. Upon his left hand he wears a ring with some sort of crest. He wears a longsword, and under his silver surcoat, he appears to be wearing black chainmail. Oddly enough, it made absolutely no jingling noises as he had walked across the room.

Noman Gilinde Celebrimbor of Darkwood and Vincible am I, a wandering bard of the harp. I desire to join you upon your quest.

Well met, neighbor Noman.

Dying in agony? Strange dream, although I'll not discount its prophetic value. Well, men have run to their own deaths for less than a dream, not to cast aspersions on your own combat ability, Blacksilver. I daresay whatever adventure the fickle forces of fate point us to will be an interesting one.

Dhalric gives a quick glance around the room. He seems intrigued by Noman's silver appendage, focusing on it a second before taking a large gulp of his ale

Does anyone here have spellcasting or thieving abilities? I think we need to know what everyone's specialties are before we leave this place and head out into the wilderness. I myself as, you can see, am a master of the double-swords, and am also an accomplished tracker, animal trainer, and archer, and I have some minor spellcasting abilities as well. Nothing fancy, however; I can cause a campfire to burst into flame, or blast a locked door open, but I don't toss around lightning or turn people to frogs!
I was once a member of the thieves' guild when I was younger, so I also have some thieving skills, but I prefer not to use them.

He takes a sip of his ale, then looks at Noman

I noticed that you carry a musical instrument. Are you just a musician, or do you have any combat skills as well?

I am Cascerot, Demon prince of the Underworld, My flame whip, black sword, and full mastery of the black art of necromancy, makes short work of my enemies and creates new servants for my cause. All mortals tremble before my flaming appearence. However, I was kicked out by Scott Ennius, Lord of Death, over a small issue involving paper products. I would wish to join your party as a non human character.

Indeed, friend Dhalric, I have some skills in both those areas. I have some skill with the magicks of Nature, as well as some nimbleness, though this (raises his left hand) does cause some small problems now and again.

Also, I am skilled in the matter of using two blades. I fight well with Ringis (pats his longsword) in the one hand, and a dagger in the other.

Did I Metion That I am quite adept with sword?

Dhalric sits back, looking as if he engaged in deep thought. After about a minute, he looks at the doorway, then at the group gathered before him

We need a cleric, preferably one who worships Aphostorous or Shalanra. He pauses, finishes his ale, orders a glass of ale for each member of the group, and looks at Sir Bowen So, what, pray tell, is the mission you are on?

For the details on Aphostorous and Shalanra, refer to the discussion board, where these posts originally were

By the way, Obsy, I liked the name Dragonbrawl B better!


Seriously, though? Novaquest?! wasn't that a really lame video-game back in the 70's or 80's?
Nawdle and I were having a discussion and we thought that the players that have gathered so far should come up with ideas for a name and vote on the new name. Novaquest's gotta go!

Nearly everything here was sent in at the same time? Is there only one person here?

Err, What is this about?

Go away. They were all sent at the same time because they're copied from the board "Brave tales of swords, sorcery, dungeons and dragons." If you want to know more about this then read that. OK? I get it the red guy and Italic Text have the same author?

You should also read the Confessions board before you start using names like that here. Sorry for all this blue posting, Obsy, but I know for a fact that Red Guy and Italic Text have the same author, and I don't want him posting any more inappropriate names!

Loremaster & Obsy, I decided we should use blue text if we're talking out of character, remember? Anyway, I want KAM to pull those posts from the other board!

No suggestions for a new name, Loremaster?

I need to speed things up, because I said that Thornbriar is 4 days away, and tomorrow's Friday, so I need Kerran or Cascerot to make a post before I can move things along in-story.


Dhalric gets up from his seat, drinking his ale down in one gulp

Never mind, Sir Bowen. You can fill me in on the details as we ride. I assume you all have horses, or some other type of mount?

(A sickly pale green horse appears)
I have a mount, I can also fly, but I prefer to ride.

Dhalric is intrigued by the appearance of Cascerot's mount. He looks at Cascerot

You said you were kicked out over a `small issue involving paper products'. So...let me ask you a question? Did it involve someone selling their soul? (He pauses) I've got another question; Cascerot, Keeran, do either of you by any chance know the spell Ride of the Just? It would help us reach Thornbriar faster.

Note: Either Cascerot (less likely) or Keeran better answer `yes'!

Hath thou needst one such as I to assist on your Quest?

I didn't report the use of a legal pad. I also used Copier paper for printer paper. Soul selling isn't done by Lord Ennius.

I can chase after your horses and they will run faster than the wind with my whip on them.

Dharlic puts his left hand close to his side

First of all, I never said I was riding a horse! Second, I don't think using a whip on our mounts would help! Third....anyone touches my mount....he draws one of his double-swords...they get a taste of this! He resheathes the weapon

Dhalric looks at Keeran Do you, perchance, know that spell?

Yes, I misspelled Dhalric's name at the beginning of the last post; I was being distracted (Instant Messenger) at the time!

<REVERB>CASCEROT! PERFORM WELL ON THIS QUEST AND YOU MAY BE RESTORED TO YOUR POSITION! FAIL, AND YOU WILL FEEL MY DISPLEASURE</REVERB>

I'm afraid I don't know any spells. I'm just a knight who's seen a lot of things, and done a lot of things, and although some of the things I've seen are magical, none of the things I've done are.

Greetings, Cascerot. Are you coming with us to Thornbriar?

How about we just say "Four days later?"

Okay. but you'll have to wait to find out just what exactly Dhalric's mount is! Ahem....


Four days later....(There, you happy?)

The heroes (and Cascerot) arrive in Thornbriar and dimount, except for Dhalric, who stops and the edge of town, takes his mount into the forest, then meets up with the rest of the group. Keeran stops a passerby and asks for directions to the Bumbling Badger. The heroes then proceed to the inn. Not wanting to alarm the locals, each member of the group waits a few minutes before following the proceeding member in. Cascerot and Dhalric, however, stay outside as lookout in case the meeting is a trap.

Inside the inn, everything seems normal; there are a lot of people in the inn, but the place is not uncomfortably crowded. Most people are either eating breakfast or engaging in conversation. A man dressed in quite luxurious clothing, easily standing out from the rest of the people in the tavern, seems to be looking straight at Sir Bowen. He is middle-aged with brown hair and a beard, both with gray streaks, and a slight scar on the right side of his face, running from his forehead to just above his eye. He motions anxiously for Sir Bowen to come join him.

Looks around for the person who sent the note, or one of his representatives.

Dhalric, do you think I should ask someone about it or should it be kept secret?

Wanders over to a stool by the hearth, and unslings his lute. He begins to play a currently popular ditty, something about "my heart will go on"

Aye, the bard is good, but the song gets old very quickly. So, friend Dhalric, what is our course of action now?

Note to Sir Bowen's author:read the previous posts! You're INSIDE the inn, Dhalric and Cascerot are OUTSIDE the inn!

Sir Bowen sees the man motioning to him and walks over. The man smiles

Thank the gods you received my message! I hope you have brought several, powerful allies with you, because you will need them for the mission I am about to offer you.
But, first, I must introduce myself; I am Baron Tavos Shanlir of Hart's Hope....or what's left of Hart's Hope. For a reason that I cannot fathom, some of the gods have become enraged; they destroyed the town with a series of fireballs and thunderbolts in the middle of the night; of the three-hundred or so citizens of the town, only myself and a handful of others survived.
The gods left only a clue to the reason for their assault on our town; a note, pinned to a tree with a dart made of ash. The note said....He pauses, and pulls out a small, folded piece of paper, the edges of which are singed, and hands it to Sir Bowen Here...read it for yourself.

The note:


Return the Heart of Power, which was stolen from us! If the Heart has not been returned to the Temple of the One Who Waits in one months' time, all within 1,000 miles of Hart's Hope shall suffer!

Baron Shanlir looks at Sir Bowen, a frightened look on his face

I am afraid I cannot offer you much, but you must help! I beg of you! There are only three weeks left until the deadline!
A sage I employed before I came here said to travel to Silvercliff, where you may find some information about the Heart. Will you help us?


Baron Shanlir looks pleadingly at Sir Bowen, as if he will die on the spot if the knight refuses. Suddenly Dhalric enters the inn, a grim look on his face

Dhalric: We've got trouble! A group of riders are approaching, and they don't look too friendly! I think they might be Iron Reapers!

(The Iron Reapers are a group of mercenaries known for using scythes in battle; some of them are also capable of casting minor combat spells.)

All right. Dhalric, Bowen, let us greet these newcomers.

(Keeran, Dhalric and Bowen run outside, to see a number of fierce mercenaries riding furiously at them. As they move closer, the Iron Reapers unlimber their razor-sharp scythes, fully intent on riding down the adventurers and removing vital sections of their body. Keeran calmly reaches back and draws his huge sword. It makes a hideous sound as it slides out of its sheath, like Death whispering. Keeran smiles.)

Frightening, isn't it? It's only to discourage would-be attackers. Now..

(Keeran hefts the two-handed sword and points it at the quickly approaching riders. He chants softly, and the very tip of the sword glows. Suddenly every Iron Reaper's horse stumbles and falls, and the Reapers are flung off at a hideous speed. They land with a thud in front of the party. Two have fallen on their scythes, and another is groaning, unable to get up, but five more stagger to their feet and raise their weapons. They charge...)

Nice little piece of writing, there, Keeran!


Dhalric reaches behind his cloak and withdraws both of his double-swords, then begins spinning them. He kills one of the Iron Reapers with a couple of slashes to the chest, leaving a wound resembling a backwards #7. Another of the Reapers moves toward Dhalric, but he raises the two double-swords and crosses them into an `x' shape. The blades begin to glow intensely, blinding the seven Iron Reapers who look at it. Strangely, anyone else who looks at the swords is unaffected.
Dhalric notices that two of the Reapers have jumped back on their horses and are retreating

Now, lets show these fools the error of their ways!

He pauses, then whistles. There is a strange noise as something flies out of the forest nearby...it is a large, dnagerous-looking Gryphon, with a strange-looking saddle on its back. It flies low toward the ground, and lands. Dhalric climbs onto the Gryphon

I'll be right back. Those men cannot be allowed to report back to whoever sent them after us. Take care of the others, but try to keep one of them alive. We need one for questioning....he looks at Cascerot let Cascerot have him! Dhalric flies off toward the two riders. He reaches down and grabs a longbow and quiver that were strapped to the Gryphon's saddle, nocks an arrow, and begins pursuit

Cascerot Leaps into action

Ring of Fire!

He transforms into fire and surronds the men.

He then procedes to beat them with his whip and sword, killing them, and saving their gullet, eyes and hearts, as well as drinking their blood. He then procedes to string their skulls as a necklace.

I SUMMON FORTH THEIR SPIRITS!

A Ghost appears visable, it is then forced back into it's body, making it a zombie, but still ripe for questioning until the sun goes down. It is also now Cascerots slave, and will answer fully.

I was going to ask Keeran but instead I asked Dhalric because he had the same author as the one who brought in the note. I forgot he was outside, even though that was the reason I was thinking of asking Keeran in the first place.

Intersting display, Cascerot. Crude, but effective. But then, very little isn't. Now, how do we locate this "Heart of Power"?

Saunters out.

If I remember my lore, the Heart of Power is a large ruby, roughly the size of a man's fist. Legends tell that whoever possesses it becomes an incredibly powerful wizard.

Noman makes his Legend Lore roll

It was last seen over 400 years ago in the land of Argle Bargle, east of here.

(Close, Noman....actually it can only be used by clerics, not wizards, but you got the fact that its a fist-sized ruby right)

`Argle Bargle?!' Re-read my anti-silliness rule over in the other board (I'll let it slip this time; we'll just say its a Gnome-ruled land, okay?}

Dhalric catches up to the two riders, their horses being no match for his Gryphon in the speed department. Dhalric fires an arrow, hitting one of the men square in the back of the head. The arrowhead protrudes through the front of his skull, and he slumps over dead. Dhalric prepares another arrow, but the other riders begins swerving (evasive maneuvers). Dhalric prepares one of the few spells he knows, Seeker, and casts it on the arrow. He fires, and the arrow follows the rider, finally hitting him in the heart. Satisfied, Dhalric flies back just in time to see what Cascerot does to the other Iron Reapers. He lands the Gryphon nearby and dismounts.

It's a good thing I've got a Gem of Holy Protection built into my belt buckle! I'd hate to have someone do that to me! Okay, Cascerot, ask him who hired him and his friends to attack us, and if he knows why.

(Matt, feel free to wing it. The Iron Reapers aren't connected to the Heart of Power plot. I just threw them in so we could have some combat!)

We'd better get to Argle Bargle. If that IS its real name.

The sage that the Baron hired said to go to Silvercliff. If the Heart was last seen in Argle Bargle 400 years ago, then maybe we should go there, too. Lets vote; who wants to go where? I'm not voting, because it doesn't matter to me where we go first!


No posting that the party goes one place or another; I actually want each character to vote before we decide; no, I'm not voting; I'll let the rest of you decide.

I agree with Bowen. The best place to start is the beginning.

Looks up from the rendering flesh, grunts and continues eating.

Geez! No posts in two days! Have we all given up on this board? I know we all have lives, but you'd think someone would have posted! (I'm waiting for Noman to post ; since he came up with the idea of Argle Bargle, its only fair that he writes the next portion of the adventure!)

Sorry, work calls... I'll try to put something up tonight...

Cascerot finally finishes eating.

I suggest we retire to a private room to discuss this. I don't think we want prying ears to hear this.

Bear with me, guys. I'll try to provide background, but it's been years since I've had to do this sort of stuff, and since I work during the day, maybe once I provide the backstory, the rest of you can keep things going, and provide direction?

Many years ago (about 400), during the reign of King Dargov the Wise, a poor farmer was digging in his field, when he dug up a fantastic ruby. Naturally, he thought his days of poverty were over. But rumor, like a barking dog, ran before him, causing many a thief to try to steal the stone. All their attempts were mysteriously thwarted.

Then, one day, the High Priest of the He Who Shall Not Be Named arrived at the farmstead. He had heard of the stone, and recognized it as the long-lost Heart of Power. He offered the farmer a small fortune in gold for the stone, which the farmer greedily accepted.

Once the evil priest had the stone in his possession, he slew the farmer, retook the gold and fled off into the east. He was last seen in the city of Argle Bargle (so named because being at the junction of major trade routes, people of many tongues came there, and the name just came about... it was originally named Firth, but that's another story).

Sorry for the digression, but you know how bards are!

In any case, that's the story. Argle Bargle lies about 150 leagues east of here. I suggest we get provisions now, and take an early start in the morning.

Noman, I still haven't figured out who you really are, but the way you wrote that last part....you da man! He Who Shall Not be Named?! Methinks me doth detect a Lovecraft fan amongst us...or a Call of Cthulhu roleplayer....or both

Dhalric stands up:

Nicely told, Noman. I knew about the reason for Argle Bargle's name, but I didn't know it was the same town once known as Firth! He looks at Sir Bowen Well, Sir Bowen, I guess since this is your quest, you're our leader. Do you have any idea where we can find a ship for hire nearby? I know one that travels to Argle Bargle, but its too far away....at least three days at full gallop! (Two and a half on my Gryphon)

I'm posting a guess about Noman over at the board this one sprang from....but I'm probably wrong...I usually am!

I know a man who can get us a slight little, tight little, slim little, trim little craft... Sorry, my brother is a bard, who often lapses into that sort of behaviour... haven't seen him for a while, though. As I say, I know someone, his name is Soric Langis.

Sounds good, friend Bowen. Aye, I've known a few loopy bards in my time.

I know what you mean...there are two bards, John of Teshhe and Kenne of G'hee that I can't stand being around....their music always puts me to sleep, but I digress....where may we find this Soric Langis, Sir Bowen?


What happened to Robar?

Please, friends... do not lump those "Minstrels" in with true bards! Sir Bowen, might I ask your brother's name?

Dhalric, he is at the nearest coast, three miles from here.

Noman, my brother's name is Dunwyn.

I need a better disguise if we are to go to a city

Throws a black hooded cloak over his 8 foot massive firery frame.

I will not be reconized. Hey guys if anyone asks, I am the Dread Pirate Roberts

As you wish...

To save my fingers, and avoid typos, in the future, I may post as just Noman, rather than Noman Gilinde Celebrimbor.

BladeWolf: Oh yeah. A hooded cloak. That'll prevent anyone from noticing he's EIGHT FEET TALL! (Smart call on the finger-saving, Noman.)

Now...back to the story.....

Dhalric: Will Soric have any problem with a Gryphon on board his ship, or should I fly to Argle Bargle? I may have a way to speed up my journey if I have fly, but I will have to cash in a favor to do so! A wizard I know owes me one for saving him from rampaging Trolls after he ran out of spells......

(Cascerot Wearing his disguise this time with a tricorner hat, eye patch and a raven dressed as a parrot.)
We could um, take my ship, since I am a "14 year old Marine Canine." Now let us not catch a citrus defiecently and set sail.

(A ship made from toenails of the dead appears in a fjord, painted brown. the skeleton crew running it are dressing in really dumb outfits. the maggots and other vermin are crawling into a small caveran. other symbols that this is a ship of the dead are being painted over. Finally, the witches directing this transform into ship's cats. The errie mist surrounding it is blown away by vultures, who were in the area.)
(This is Cacerot, no one can tell that this ship or it's crew are dead. I disguised it.)

I see Cascerot/Dread Pirate Roberts' Author knows a little mythology, too. The toenail ship's scandanvaian, isn't it? Or greek? Can't remember which right now.....

Dhalric: I think I'll take my Gryphon; I smash skeletons, not sail with them....


(Dhalric is a Ranger, but his specialty is fighting undead; his main species enemy are vampires; I'm using 3rd edition D&D rules for Dhalric; 3rd E lets you have more than one species enemy; you'll find out the others later.)

Looks like Soric won't be needed after all.

(Travel music from Monty Python and the Holy Grail plays in the background.)

Arre, The ship be made from not toenails but from scurvy wood.
Aside: Do I really have to play this ridicoulous character. Does it really matter if your friends think who know who you are that we are pirates. Scurvy wood? that dosen't even make sense. You know Scott Ennius is really going to be upset when he finds out that you didn't check out the barge for clearing the river Styx swamps of bootleggers. Ande must I wear this silly outfit, I mean I am 3 centuries old, the raven is older, it dosen't deserve to have it's feathers dyed. Sigh

The vampire is vaporised for misspelling ScottEnnius' name. There is no space.

Friend Dhalric, you fight the undead? An honorable profession. I have no quarrel with those who refuse to leave this realm, so I shall ride with Cascerot.

I'll ride on your ship, but keep your `crew' away from me! Any skeleton that moves into striking range will be destroyed!

They be pirates arrge. besides they be easyly recycleble.

(Is Noman supposed to play the squeezebox while you dance the jig?!)

Then lets go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we get off that...pardon the pun....dam ned ship!

I see land ahoy!

About time! My fingers are sore from playing all those sea chanteys!

Author's note: Check the date before Sir Bowen's post; December 18th! I was about to give up the board for dead! Yaay! Welcome back, guys!

Land ho! Get my gryphon, Greatwing, ready for flight!

Oops! JANUARY 18th! Sorry...I was in a hurry when I posted, and I didn't have time to check it!

(Keeran comes up on deck from below.)

Almost there? Good. I've just been playing dice with your skeleton mates down in the hold, Cascerot. They'll find it hard to pay Charon when the time comes. I've a pouch full of silver oboli. They can't seem to toss the die well, though. Stiff joints.

(Keeran smiles wryly)

(A short, stocky man dressed in nondescript clothing pushes himself off of the wall he was leaning on and approaches the dock as the party disembarks.)

"Sir Bowen and company I presume. I am Caladron. Baron Shanlir thought you might be needing my help. I am at your disposal."

(The man bows and sweeps his cloak in a wide ark. As he does you can see that he is wearing no armor, but is quite well armed. Several daggers protrude from different places among his dress, and now that you're looking, there is a dagger hilt sticking out of each boot.)

"When you're ready, I have procured us a guide from the local thieve's guild..."

As you stand looking at the stranger, a few things about him begin to stand out. He appears to be human, standing about 5'8", and is a little on the portly side. Were it not for the bristling daggers and gleam of mischief in his eye, he could pass for a farmer. Despite the fact that his profession is obviously something less than honest, he exudes a confidence and friendliness that make you want to trust him

Noman makes a small sign with his hand that goes unnoticed by all the others. Caladron's eyes widen for a fraction of a second and then he nods.

Caladron makes a wide gesture with his left arm than encompasses the view of the city from the docks and draws your eyes across the city front. With his right hand he makes some answering gestures in Noman's direction.

"I have arranged for us to meet our guide a little further in the city. If you will follow me, we can begin our search..."

Caladron begins walking away, expecting you to follow.

You follow Caladron through the streets of Argle Bargle, and you notice that whatever area of town you are heading towards is decidedly seedy. The houses are becoming more run-down, and the streetwalkers beginning to appear more like loiterers than inhabitants about their daily business. Finally you arrive before a small building with three floors. The building has definately seen better days. Caladron walks right up the steps and enters the dwelling. You follow him into a sim room currently inhabited by about four seedy looking individuals. The youngest appearing of these approaches the group and hails Caladron

"Hey, tubby! Are these the schmucks you're gonna leave with?", says the youth.

"Gentlemen, meet Khardek, he is...an employee...of mine. No one knows this city like he does, and since I just...took over this establishment...he's going to be our guide.", explains Caladron. "Where would you gentlemen like to begin searching?"

Caladron looks at you expectantly, awaiting an answer.

I don't know, Caladron, we don't have enough information. Do you know anything about an evil priest or a Heart of Power?

A seventeen year old girl with long black hair tied back loosly looks out of a window in Argle Bargle. She is waring a plain blue dress and a sleevess black tunic. She sighs as she watches the knights talking to Caladron in through an upstairs window to the window across the street.

Why is it always the men who go on the quests?!

She notices Sir Bowen

He looks kind, for a knight, I`ll go across the street and ask him if I can acompany him!

She gets changed into a squire outfit and bundles her hair into a cap

There! I will introduce myself as Bob and become his squire!

Meanwhile, several unscrupulous fellows sneak aboard the Ship of the Darned. They plunder and loot all the valuables, and write "Thieves of Andinor were here" in red writing.

A youth enters. He walks up to Sir Bowen and reaches up to take of his cap and then cheks himself and mearly bows

Greetings Sir! I am Bob, a townslad. I have always longed for adventure and I want to be your squire.

Before Sir Bowen can answer, a drunken beggar appears. He is being harrased by two thugs dressed in chainmail. They are pushing him around.

Thug #1:C'mon, you drunken bum! Get out of here! (He pushes the beggar toward the other thug)

Thug #2:Yeah! Go on! (Pushes the beggar) Leave before we cut you in two. We don't like drunks in this town!

Thug #1:If you thought what we did to that shoplifter was horrible, you don't want to know what we'd do to you! (Both thugs start laughing)

Greetings, Bob. Yes, you can become my squire. But have you any training?

All right, you two thugs, clear out. I will warn you, many members of our band are evry adept with the sword. And I won't even tell you of the things this feller (points to Cascerot) does.

The two thugs don't pay any attention. They keep pushing the drunk around.

Thug #1:Ha! We're not afraid of you! (He pushes the drunk)

Thug #2:Yeah! We work for Lord Bosrak! (He draws a short sword and points it at the drunk) I think I'll just go ahead and kill you...just like we killed those shoplifters!

`Drunk' Beggar, not sounding like a drunk at all: Those people were innocent.

(Both thugs look confused)

Thug #1: Oh? Well, we don't care! (He draws a short sword, just like the other thug's)

Beggar: Well, I do! (The two thugs try to attack him, but he dodges and weaves like someone who is in a drunken stupor. He does this for about a minute and a half, then knocks out both thugs with a series of lightning-fast moves. When he is finished, he dusts his hands, then pulls a bottle of alcohol out from under his rags and takes a drink, then wipes his mouth) Ahh....much better! (He re-stoppers the bottle and puts it back under his rags, then walks over to the group, smiling) Thanks for coming to my defense, but I had those two morons right where I wanted them. The Lord Bosrak that they spoke of is nothing more than a petty, two-bit crimelord. He's so inept, even the Thieve's guild won't have anything to do with him. (He looks at Khardek) Isn't that right, Khardek? Oh...allow me to introduce myself....my real name is unimportant, but I am known as the Staggering Monk!

My little tribute to Drunken Master!

Don't worry....he's not going to be a regular character.Yet.

Um, I really think you should have posted that last comment on Brave Tales.

Um, I posted it here so those who don't frequent Brave Tales would see it!

The Staggering Monk looks at Sir Bowen

I wander from town to town trying to avenge wrongs...without violence preferrably. Bosrak runs a small shop on the northern side of town, and he occasionally frames those he doesn't like for shoplifting. These two idiots are his `enforcers'. (He pauses) Now that these two have been dealt with, I'm leaving. Maybe we'll meet again sometime. (He turns around and runs off)

Suddenly, out in the street is heard a man's alarmingly surprised, frightened screams. The small band rushes to investigate and behold a sight unlike any not a one of them had ever seen before. A giant tiger, almost as tall as Caladron's shoulders, with stripes of deepest black and flaming orange, standing in the middle of the town, its right forepaw upon an old man's chest, its head not an inch from his face, its hot, tepid breath invading the aged, wrinkled nostrils as its saliva slowly dripped over the dry, deep-lined, quivering lips and shrunken gums of the ages-old mouth, its eyes, mere slits as to be almost completely closed, yet with a deeply burning fire within that shined through as they stared at the hapless, paralyzed victim. At such a sight it is only natural that a man use whatever weapons he has at his means to engage such a beast, and so it was that the band all drew their weapons and were about to train them on the monstrous feline when a beautiful, silken voice, as soft and fine as a baby's hair and as ageless as the winds said in a caressing lilt,

"No. Sheath thy weapons."

And they all did, as though by some gentle invisible force of which they were helpless to disobey.

Then to the tiger she said, in a slightly husky, whispering sigh, "Bellepherus, release this man. He has neither meant, nor done you any harm and is certainly no match for your great strength and speed even if he had. See how frightened you've made him, and he hasn't many more years in him as it is. Please let him enjoy those that he has left."

The great black and orange paw, easily bigger than a man's head and able to divorce same from one's shoulders with but the slightest brush, slowly lifted. The old man fainted. The small coterie of men, along with all of the townsfolk, just stared, as speechless as though the gods themselves had rendered them mute with but a mere thought.

Then the men rested their eyes upon the author of that pleasantly lilting voice, a female, young, but of indeterminate age and infinite beauty, with hair of the purest golden honey, the light glowing and dancing on it as if joyously alive, her alabaster skin, with just a faint touch of pink and a smoothness to rival that of the finest satin, her eyes the deepest, most piercing blue as to put the sky to shame, and telling of a vast, eternal intelligence and wisdom well beyond her years. She stood only of average height but gave the presence of a mountainous stature, and the vast strength of character to go along with it.

The beautiful, fine, young lass then turned to the small band and said,

"Greetings to our small, humble excuse of a town, strangers. I am Khistra, the Tiger Maiden. I live out in the wilds and come into town only on occasion. I see I chose the right day to do so, too, I might add."

Gesturing to the tiger she said, "You've met my companion and guardian, Bellepherus. Don't worry. He won't attack you," Then in a soft, conspiratorial tone and with a mischievous smile, "Well, not unless he really has to. And who praytell, might you all be and what brings you to our corner of the world?"

Goshdurnit. I forgot to describe Khistra's outfit. Well, next time. I spent so much time on the last two posts that I just plumb fergot!

Author's Note: Noman did *NOT* draw his weapon.

(Guess who you are, huh? Well, the first, lengthy post you made reminds me of Jason, aka Commander Adon, over on the LICC boards....)

Dhalric sheathes his double-blades, but remains cautious.

We are on a quest to recover the artifact known as the Heart of Power, and we have come here seeking information. I am Dhalric Blacksilver, of the Dark Hunters. My tall friend in the robes here is..ummm...Caserus Longbranches. The bard standing next to him is known as Noman Gilinde Celebrimbor, and the man in the brown cloak is Keeran. As for the armored warrior you see in front of you, he is our leader, the noble Sir Bowen, and the lad is his squire...Bob. (He pauses) Aren't you taking a risk bring such a fine specimen of a tiger into town?

Note to Matt: Didn't think you'd want Cascerot's real name told, and it wouldn't do to call him the Dread Pirate Roberts. Sorry about the name I made up...you can ditch it later!

Kind Dhalric, surely you jest. Bellephorus is perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and is mostly likely to be unaccosted by most any creatures, even humans, save for the occasional drunken oaf who wishes to challenge him. Besides, my companion comes and goes where and when he wishes. I can hardly stop him. Well, sometimes.

She winks at Dhalric in that conspiratorial way again, her blue eyes reflecting the sun's rays just right so as to temporarily blind him from her lush womanness, her full

bountiful breasts, threatening to burst out of her leather corset at the slightest wrong movement of them. Thus, her gait, her every step, was carefully measured. Her hips were generous, though not overly so, with the well defined musculature that was evident throughout her entire physique, while still displaying that she was in fact, very much and most definitely and undoubtedly a female, one ripe for the taking, if not for that striped behemoth that accompanies her. She wore a leather skirt, what little there was of it, to match her corset and display those shapely, perfectly rounded, powerful thighs that more than one man in the crowd humorously thought could either hold on quite well under the right circumstances, or cause some serious damage to the unwary.

She went up Dhalric and said,

Um, I meant to include that italized part in this narrative, not there. And sorry about Noman.

Now, kind sir, I shall take my leave for a short spell but fear not, for we shall meet again. In fact, I daresay that I...that we both shall join you all on your long journey. After all, there are many dangers ahead of you and you'd do well to have us along with you to avoid them. Or at least to have a decent fighting chance against them. But beware, for it will be a long, ardorous journey that some of you may very well not survive.

And now, I take my leave.

And with that Khistra, the Tiger Maiden, turned her back to the crowd, her shapely posterior garnering, as ever, the admiration of the town's male population, as well as that of the small band of new men visiting, as she strode off to no one knew where. Already the anticipation of when they'll see her again weighed heavily on the men.

Someone's been reading too many romance novels! (haven't you, Caractacus?)

Actually, I don't read them at all. They're too stup¡d.

THAT is a fine-looking woman.

(Keeran stares after her until she fades from sight.)

Well. Perhaps we can seek out an institution of higher learning and inquire as to the Heart of Power. Or perhaps we can embark on a rousing adventure in the town's underworld for the knowledge we seek.

Khardek forces his eyes to leave the retreating figure of Khistra.

"Wha? Huh? Oh! Yeah, I can take you to the bedroom...I mean, umm, the uh, the, uh....where was it you wanted to go again?", he stammers.

"The Academy, Khardek, we want to go to the Academy...", sighs Caladron. He also mentions something under his breath about hormones being the end of his best people...

"Oh sure! I can take you there. I know a shortcut!"

The companions follow Khardek through an alley way, and across a few busy blocks and finally end up before a large wrought-iron gate.

"Well, here's the Academy...you guys are probably going to be here awhile. Cal, is it okay if I go back to the hide...uh, office?", asked the youth.

"Sure, Khardek. If I need you, I can find you. Besides, I pretty much know my around this area of town....", replied Caladron.

"Well gentlemen, we can try to find some answers here. After you..."

On the road heading back to her home in the wilds, Khistra sings a song in a soft, pleasant tone, one of few that can always and truly soothe Bellepherus' savage heart. She walks alongside the black and orange leviathan, gently stroking his fur, forever at a loss for words as to how satiny it feels, even when it's wet or filthy, which, she was glad to say, it seldom ever was, given the meticulous way he often cleans himself. Sometimes she wonders just how lucky she ever was to come to meet this gentle, though albeit overly protective, animal, who watches her every waking moment, and especially as well as when she's most deep in blissful slumber.

That's what she's come to love most about Bellerpherus, that sense of knowing she's always protected from harm, but it's also what she's come to dislike most about him, as well, since she cannot know the comfort of a lover as yet. Maybe one day, but she knows she's a hopeless romantic with still enough sense not to get her hopes up too high. She's learned the folly of that once, and once was enough. She still sheds a tear when she thinks of that young man she liked a lot, not yet a father and now always never to be. It was nothing more than a friendly flirtation on his part, never meant seriously, but Bellerpherus didn't see it that way and took matters into his own, well, paws. The cut was swift and there was a lot of redness as a result, but the young man's life was saved, barely. It didn't appear as if he'd live or not for awhile, but he'd surprisingly pulled through better than expected. Undoubtedly he'd wished he hadn't.

She thinks about the men she met today, the strangers passing through on some journey, and especially that mysterious Dhalric. Who is he? Where does he come from? Her curiousity will have to be sated another day, for she presently had other matters to attend to, not the least of which was washing her sumptuous body in the pool near her small, humble cottage in the wilds. The pool has a waterfall under which she always washed her luxurious hair with lotions she'd make from herbs she gathered, along with others that gave her the most glorious fragrances to adorn her body with.

Suddenly, Bellepherus stopped, his extraordinarily keen hypersenses detecting a wrongness in the air, as his massive head swiveled around to find the source of his unease. Out from the bushes burst a trio of ruffians who rushed towards the girl, with malevolent intentions towards her on their minds. Unfortunately for them, those intentions would be amongst their last thoughts, as they immediately noticed the tower of black and orange next to the girl, seconds before their bowels were emptied, along with the rest of their insides.

Khistra quickly moved out of the way of flying intestines, limbs and heads, though a little blood, and something else she was unable to define, did land on her skin and hair. She thought exasperatingly that it was times like this that she hated having an overgrown guardian.

Bellerpherus! Was that really necessary? Couldn't you have just knocked them out or something? Why must you always resort to such violent means to protect me? Besides, I can take care of myself against such lowlifes as they. I love you but sometimes you really make it hard not to.

And with that Khistra strode off to wash away the gore from her body.