Post by greybeardabbot on Jul 25, 2006 22:58:59 GMT -5
"All he wanted is what rightfully belonged to him. What he was asking for was a war."
CHAPTER ONE THE CHATEAU NOIR:
I met him in a cell in Oleans. Twas the third I were in prison. This time it was for killing a nobleman in a fair fight. He were a bully and I stood up for a peasant family. Truely I had no intention of killing him. I took his men from him quickly... one lost his hand and another will n'er walk without a limp... I did them light justice for their foolishness. But this marquis... this fairy... fancied himself good with a blade. My sin was that I did not put him down quickly, but rather toyed with his majesty... ta take him down a peg and introduce a little humiliation to his puffed pride... But he was mighty quick with that spanishmake rapier and he ventilated my armpit... it were mere instinct that cut his throat. So there I sat innocent of murder... but guilty of instigation. I don't fear death, and that's no boast. It's far less a nusance to me than a cage. Death I can escape... a cage on the other hand...
Post by greybeardabbot on Jul 25, 2006 23:43:39 GMT -5
It had been four years by my reconning, when my mate Will made confession of his hopes... for by now he had given them up for lost.
CHAPTER TWO FOR A GOOD MAN HE MIGHT:
"We shall never leave here. The only way out of Chateau Noir is in deaths arms." "What need to leave? Good company we are I say. Besides which, I enjoy our lessons nearly as much as you do." "To what end? You have been like a father to me Christian. But I have a real father whom I love and I will never see again." "Thas, fools talk! Young buck, what you say will only come true if you give up... now... no more O' that." "You call me a fool? And you hold out false hopes.... mere dreams and lies? My father is dead. The that son of a bitch Hurqual gave me the message an hour ago... He told me that The Userper now sits on MY throne." "Your Uncle?" "My Uncle... Miraz will order my execusion... small wonder... He has no need to keep me a live now." "Like is true." --I've never dared to take me own life. I've always feared it was a sin I could na recover from... and like as not... I would wake-up to discover meself in hell. I fear that an 'immortal' must never commit suicide without forfiting his 'immortality'. But what is the difference between suicide and sacrifice? The riddle is simple... one is a selfish act... and the other is selfless... For my own sake I could never attempt a mad rush agaisnt the guardshack... Certain it would be my death, from which I could hope to rise over shortly after they buried me... or through me over to the sea... God forbit they burn my body... I don't believe I could srevice a cremation... BUT, for the sake of someone else, for the sake of thier freedom, thier restoration... For a good man I might dare to die... and live again. "William. Whot I'm gonna say ta ya is goin ta seem nigh well impossible... but you have got ta trust me... will ya trust me?" (Will, looks at him with squinted eyes... doubt seems to fill his whole heart, but with his head he nods in the affirmative.) "I've been keeping a rather despirate secret... a way of escape for one of us... me. Since I cannat take ya with me, I was reluctant to try it... But there is a way... and if you sware to me that you will not give up hope... and stay alive until I returns... why me bucko... you will get your reward... and your revenge." "What are you going to do?" "Never you mind that! After midnight to night I'll work it out... But this is what you will hear, and this is what they will tell you... I'm say it now... DON'T BELIEVE ANY OF IT... You will hear the alarms... unless I'm a coo-coo or a shadow... and If you do... well... you will hear a pretty bad fight... And... they might tell you I'm dead... By the power's they will say they killed me... and son... it will look to God like they had... But you MAY NOT believe it... even if you see my body... DO NOT DOUBT.... Trust me lad.... I will return to this little rock of an island in a fortnight and you will be rescued." Will's face dropped and he sighed a great sigh... "More silly dreams old man?" "Damn it boy! I've told you no lies!" "What about seeing my father again?" "Ack... Will... That's the surest promise I've made to ya... can't ya see? Look... Miraz thinks your safely squirrled away... He's too much on his plate to think of you just yet... Listen... If I thought you would live to see the end of this month I would give this half-baked idea a little time to gell... But by thunder... you've surly got 14 days... TRUST ME BOY!" Will doubts in his heart and doubts in his mind... and can give no reply. "If I'm wrong... you can call me a liar!" (smiles) Will laughs sardonicly... and scampers back to his cell (they had made a tunnel between them to keep company)
Post by greybeardabbot on Jul 25, 2006 23:55:05 GMT -5
CHAPTER THREE THE GREAT ESCAPE:
Three years earlier Greybeard had managed to crack the stone where the lock was set... This had gone unotice by the jailers for it was well concealed. It was possible to escape his cell through the door. Gaston was the misreable wretch that brought down the mealy bread and the fowl strew and weak broths and water mixed with a little wine or vinager to make it potable... Greybeard would have compassion on him... He would have a head ache... and Greybeard would have the keys... But as for Hurqual... He intended to kill him for his wickedness and cruelty... and take as many guards as possible.... "But wait.. News of vilence at the Chateau Noir, might provoke Miraz to order Willams death prematurly... I must risk a covert operation... and attempt escape and not death... It galls me to think of letting Hurqual take my life... But he would do it gladly and quickly... the guards might be clumbsy and slow."
Post by greybeardabbot on Jul 26, 2006 0:04:26 GMT -5
CHAPTER FOUR LOOK OUT FISHES:
"You take the head... I'll take the feet." "I always get the head. nothing to hold onto." "Hold on to the canvas... and lets walk up a few feet higher... better distance... Sir Hurqual swore he'd cut our rum rations if we didn't put him in the water this time." "Stupid old man... why'd dya think he tried to attack Hurqual when we had him cornered like that? He could have gone back in his cell, but instead E' gets an arrow in the chest." "That's Sir Hurqual, ya idiot. Most of em go looney after a bit of time... here let me get this block tyied around his ankels... There, that's got it...." "One for the money.... two for the show... three gets ready... and four... to... GO!"
Post by greybeardabbot on Jul 26, 2006 0:18:57 GMT -5
CHAPTER FIVE FIT AS A FIDDLE:
Greybeard wakes underwater... it takes some doing but he does excape after three days... The Forth day he arrives in Avinion... From an account with the fuggers he withdraws 10,000 duckets... And sends out six messages... He is bathed, shaved and re-outfitted... He spends three days learning the news of the rehlms... and the fourth day he rides out to stay at an inn, in the little village of Amble. just north of the Southern Reaches. There he waits for his comrades.
::The door of the tavern swings open and a tall and slender man steps in, scanning the room suspiciously and keeping a hand on the hilt of his longsword. A long black cloak partially conceals black chainmail and a short loop of cloth which bears the white cross on a black field. His head is wrapped in a black cloth that completely covers his ears and brow, holding back short-cropped hair, and stained with dry blood. A smile quirks across his face at the nearly empty room, and he pulls up a chair next to the abbot ::
"That poor messenger of yours might have wandered through the mists for months, Greybeard, had curiousity not had the better of me. Fortunate that it did, though. Teaching shield work to young warriors in the Stronghold of Eternal Winds holds not a candle to what you promise now. Freeing a falsely imprisoned man, overthrowing a usurper...and an impressive golden haul. You've sold me on good deeds for today, abbot. Now...who else did you send for?
Post by greybeardabbot on Jul 26, 2006 14:36:26 GMT -5
"Aye... Fortunate I am... To send out a call and already get three of the six I had hoped for. I sent out to Rune, and to Frost and Furey... and... If the winds favor us... It's possible we might discover Oron on this little advent. I darn near trampled Firoth at the cross roads... He was an an erand... but he might show his face... I'm open to sign-up what ever other mercs fit the bill. I'm promising you a good aventure if you'll you'll take my guidance... I intend to lead this little party, but I'm willing to turn over command to those I choose for generals... And each to his specialty."
An Old Woman, who might have been a beauty in days long past, crosses to the Table where Taos, and Zaron sit with Greybeard and asks with obvious irritation... "And am I to be feed'n this mottly crew, as well, Granfather?"
Taos laughs... "Looks whose calling you grandfather GB, she could be your mother." GB: "Aye... that's awkward...Taos... but she happens to be my grandaughter. Four times I've allowed myself to take a wife... Out lived them all... Lisel, here is one of my progeny that I've kept it touch with... She's still a beauty in my eyes... Grace, Lisel! Plan to victle this mob for three days... on my purse... Drinks too... we should all be here by then, and out of your hair." Lisel: "That's love. Make me work for the inheritance I'll never see!" She cross back to the bar and asks Nictmar what he'll be eating?
GB: "Peace, child... you know I'm generous where your concerned!" Turning back to Z... "That's why I chose this for a meeting place... we'll be free to make bold about our plans."
Everyday you make the choice, to be a good man.... or not.
(For this rp, im going to be a hobit. Try on the boots for a bit. )
*A loud thump out of the tavern catches the attention of those inside* *Shortly after, the door to the tavern opens, and the short hobit walks in, clad in black from head to foot, shield still strapped to his back, quiver at his side, and sword on the other.*
Damn horse, i swear it grew four inches from when i got on it the first time. One day, im gonna invest in one of those there short horses. They seem more useable to me. Like having an ogre around, always big and in the way. And hello, by the way. I have looked forward to seeing my fello wwarriors fro atime, and now we are all almost here. Wait, i smell FOOD. Are you guys eating with out me? Thats blasphemous.
*Walks over to the bar by Nichtmar* Misses, can i have some food too, surely GB mentioned me while he was here, the one with the appatite? I'll try my darndest not to eat all of your food, hehe. Dont worry ma'am, im just pulling your stings. But not about the food though, im hungry.
So, what did you have need for Mister GB?
He who joyfully marches in rank and file has already earned my contempt. He has been given a large brain by mistake, since for him the spinal cord would suffice. - Albert Einstein
Post by greybeardabbot on Jul 27, 2006 12:17:30 GMT -5
Aye... Brings joy to see you again master Hobit, I'm afraid it have been far too long. Nichtmar! Give Lisel your order and turn that ugly mug of your'n this direction. Now... Like it is that I'll need to repeat this in more detail, so I'll just be given ya, the nuts and bolts to wet your appetites... I know my message was brief, just given the coordinates with the criptic message... Goed deeds for thee brothers: Shall we free a man falsely imprisoned? Overthrowing a usurping king and earn a pretty reward? 10,000 up front + 15% No doubt it were curiosity that gathers ye?
"sometimes being subtle is a good thing, especially for a man your size"
Berrok stands to see who has chastised him. A man wearing a deeply cowled black cloak steps forward. A weariness seems to hang on him as long hair and beard are the only visible features beneath the shadow cast by the hood. He moves to the table where the men are sitting, all of them hoping the same thing.
As he sits down he lets out an audible sigh of relief. He pulls back the cowl of the hood to reveal his face, and after a year spent in the wild, the only discernable feature were his eyes. But his eyes commanding respect as always and his men knew that he had come back finally.
"I figured now is as good as time as any to come back. Down to business though, what can the Dragoons for this man?"
Post by greybeardabbot on Jul 29, 2006 23:19:49 GMT -5
Moving Fureys Post HERE
::::The clatter of Tavern talk echoed as the hooded man known as Aidan Furey sat at the table nearest to the window in the "Ambel Inn." The rain fell steady, peppering the thick glass windows, as the doors creaked open periodicly with many folk shaking the water off their haunches, leaving darkened, damp wood in their wake. Furey sat sleepy eyed sitting with hood over his eyes, as he sat back. Letting out a sigh he looked to the barkeep as he served Ale. Taking in every detail Furey thought to himself, "Contract.. Contract? Where in the Blazes is everyone?" Furey Sighed again, and put his feet up on the table, pulling out a long tavern pipe, Furey sat smoking the last of his pipe leaf:::::
Everyday you make the choice, to be a good man.... or not.
Post by greybeardabbot on Aug 1, 2006 16:18:29 GMT -5
All right gents I see that yas are game for a good show... In my room I have a map of the "Black Castle" and after supper tonight we are going to go over that map in some detail (look for the map to be posted in GB Rules, thread)... But here is the history in brief.
The Chateau Nior is located on a penisular on the north sea, it was to be a serious fortress of Ragnar the short, but shorter still was Ragnars regency. He could not hold his father's land, his inheritance, free of the ambisions of his brother Reinald. Only the Keep was completed and that laviously. Ragnar built the Keep but Reinald built the outer walls and barbican. There he kept in garison a small army, about 500 men-at arms. But economies change, lads, economies change. What had once been a fief of some economic promise, was bypassed. Reinald could not hold his lands and Louis the fat takes no intrest in the Chateau Noir... under his administrations it has but three uses... One is to serve for navigation. The upper Keep has become a lighthouse. The second is to serve as a jail. The keeps dungeon serve for that. And the third is a lone outpost. Thirty men serve to keep a rather slavenly watch on the coast and boarder. Miraz is friendly to the crown. A fact that should be self evident in that the Chateau's dungeons hold Miraz's enemies as well as those of Louis.
Gentlemen... While the old Keep is sectioned off from the fortress, and for all practle purposes they have nothing to do with eachother, it would serve us well to play count... The fort has thirty armed men. Armed and bored. Their comander is lax in his discipline and they are unkempt, undisciplined and frequently drunk. I can not say if they are unskilled. The jail is kept by four men. Hurqual is the warden and in his time I have no doubts that he was a formitable foe. He is fifty, now and as dangerous as a lion in winter. He is too wise to be a fool and too crule to overlook a detail. Gaston is one of three men who guard the prisoners. Since they are mostly locked behind stone and iron, they are seldomed armed with more than a dirk or a mace. I only know gaston and I have only seen one of the other two. He would bring what passes for food when Gaston was absent... which wasn't often. Gaston is short, thick and mean. The other is taller and thin. He never spoke and treated us with neglect. William and I were the only two kept in that level, which I assume was the bottom most, which is why only Gaston seemed to be our only visitor in that God forsaken place. A man named Hector LaStronge was also a prisoner there, but died in my first year. They put William in his cell. We shared a common wall, so to speak... about three feet thick. But I had figured that the back of my cell was on the seawall, and I dug it out over nine months. It opened a tunnle between our cells. It allowed us to be friends, but not freedom. There was too much rock. Finally... I'm somewhat certain that there are two or three men that station the light. All totaled... we risk near fourty swords... But what the odds for the likes of you?
"Forty swords to our current seven...hmmm. I know im good for at least 39 so if the 6 of you can take out the other were good right?" A slow smile crept across my face "obviously kidding, everyone knows Im good for at least 60, but seriously. Before Furey gets to speak his mind and say we run in there brazenly and kill all those in our path. Do we have intimate enough knowldege of the lands to do some diversion and Nichtmar dont cry, but stealth maybe? Maybe all this black we wear could come in handy at some point."
Post by greybeardabbot on Aug 1, 2006 21:14:50 GMT -5
I can give you the the details on the terain... have been neglected for so long with little concern for threats... The wood and brush have grown up on a number of posible fronts. Aye, but the cue-de-gras is the stairway benieth the fortress that leads down to a "hidden" inlet. It may be possible to anchor a small craft unseen, and enter undetected.
Among our choices... we must decide if this is a mission of stelth, or assalt. We risk Louis' involvement if we kill his solders... But if we left none alive, it could be months before he was even aware... Still... If we have to start a war with Miraz, would Louis be more willing interveen on his behalf? And what of the diplomacy between William and Louis afterward? But on that mark, what have Dragoons to do with politics when all is said and done? Blessed little and more is the pity! But this apears to be your bread and butter, eh?
Everyday you make the choice, to be a good man.... or not.
Post by Lord Kensman Oron the Wolf on Aug 2, 2006 0:01:10 GMT -5
The table, deep in conversation, failed to take notice of the arrival of three others. A middle aged man with long brown hair, and a handle bar mustache, dressed in light leather armor, and covered in dust from the road had quietly stepped up to the table. He was flanked on his right by a large powerfully built bearded man, wearing the skin of a great black bear over his shoulders, and on his right by a young muscular Celt with reddish blond hair, and piercing blue-green eyes. Kinsman Oron the Wolf and his Sword Brothers Wulfgar and Modi had arrived...
"Well friend Greybeard, even with the ten of us, I would doubt the "knock on the door, and ask nicely for the release of this lad William" plan has much merit. Truly a plan of stealth would be far better for the men you have gathered here..."
All the assembled warriors look up startled at the voice of their friend, and for a moment all is forgotten as forearms are clasped, and shoulders struck. Hail and well mets are tossed about, and more ale is brought to the table.
OoC: Sorry I am late guys. You didn't honestly think you were gonna start this party without me, did you?
Post by Aidan Furey on Aug 2, 2006 12:40:06 GMT -5
:::As Furey sat pondering for a moment and running through the information Greybeard had given him... The Covert operation-variatians went through his head like lightening bolts... Him and Frost were great actors... Maybe they could present themselves as lully peasants yeah Yeah!? OR Rich snobby noblemen of that land... And they could bring carts.. or Better... They could present themselves as merchants.... And bring lots of "wares" to sell.... That could allow them to gain entrance easily... And also... If they oppted.... To leave the bulk of the force outside of the walls... Frost or I... Could... Well We could drop a ladder? Rope? Off the walls... and they could climb up in the cover of night.. and and.... Wait... We could sneak them in .. on the carts?...... Furey stood clearly in deep thought... Extremely deep though as to his brow was in a scowl, and his hand was on the side of his head... Smoking his pipe he pondered::::
OOC: Wow... many mistakes this morning... I shall reread for grammar lmao
Post by Lord Kensman Oron the Wolf on Aug 2, 2006 15:32:17 GMT -5
"I thank you for the mead Greybeard, the road was dry and dusty, and my throat is the worse for it. When the good stuff runs dry, we shall settle for whatever is left..." Oron laughs knowing that three bottles would hardly quench his own thirst, let alone that of his Sword Brothers.
"We have horses, but two days ride from here, I have moored a long ship, provisioned and ready to sail, if needed. She is called Gyrfalcon, for she is fast and light, and when the seas are calm I still sail her where I may... Some old habits are hard to give up."
The three pull chairs from a nearby table, and take seats amongst the men. Oron takes the offered bottle of mead, and drinks deep, enjoying the cool sweet taste, as it washes clean the taste of travel from his mouth.
"A fine mead Abbot, and just what I needed. I shall have to repay you with some of my own stock. There is a small cask of sweet brown ale strapped to Wulfgar's war mount, tis just about the only way to get him to ride a horse." Oron laughs loudly at his jest, and his Sword Brothers join in.
"Wulfgar hates the beasts, he far prefers the the roll of the open sea, to the rocking of a horse's canter on the high road. If time allowed, I think he would have rather run the distance than ride it." Wulfgar scowls at the thought of having to get back up onto that creature.
Post by Aidan Furey on Aug 2, 2006 17:24:03 GMT -5
:::With a sharpish movement Furey cleared his throat and tapped the remnants of pipe residue out of his bowl. Looking to the rest of the men, Furey arouse a question:::
Furey: How may we gain entry tae'this fortress? We cannae jess'simply walk to the front of this Fortress and knock on the door... and say "Oi, Laddy'Buck we're here to free some prisoners".... Well.... I dinnae... I am Partial to the Hail of Glory approach.. But.... I assume that we're trying to avoid a large scruff aye?
:::Furey leans his back to the wall quietly behind the table of the Kinsmen and Abbott:::
Those Who Want to Live, let them fight, and those who do not want to fight in this world of eternal struggle do not deserve to live~ Adolf Hitler