Alastor Silverspur stepped off the gangplank onto the solid dock of Blackstone Keep. This region had a much saltier smell to it than the port he had come from far to the west, and the mixture of sickly sweet brine and fish was an interesting welcome to the area.
Depadee Pettifogger, his loyal companion, followed behind looking at bit green after the long sea voyage.
The keep looked to be relatively untouched by the scars of war. There were a few blackened flagstones in addition to a number of scratches in various walls that indicated some few battles had occurred, but these scars had been painted over and repaired with care.
Yes, it seemed like this region was much better than the sorry state of affairs the West had been thrown into lately.
A man stood at the end of the dock, greeting them with a sing-song voice and an overlarge smile that gave Alastor the impression of a snakeoil salesman. He waved the man off, and he and Depadee continued into the keep to seek out replacements for the supplies they had been forced to leave behind in their haste to flee the armies of Azazel.
This place seemed like a fine place to stake a claim. The rugged man was saddened to leave his home behind, but he reminded himself that his home was long destroyed. There was nothing to return to. The warring armies had seen to that.
Others were on their way. Jaylor, JB, Chavez and those who had survived the onslaught. Maybe Blackstone Keep would be a safe place to live and to defend. Perhaps he could find his place in this new world.
"Well, parnder, we've arrived," Alastor spit into the harbor, which quickly mixed with the brownish foam. "Time for a drink, I'd say."
Depadee adjusted his eye patch from the left to the right. "Shore is, Sheriff! Lead on!"
The Blackstone Regulators
Moderators: DM_eaze, Luceran, DM_Jaydaan, ST_DM_Myle, dm_xeen1, DM Nexus, DM_TrainWrek, Carpe_DM1, DM_Unicorn, DM_Griphon, DM_Shadowlands, dm_zane, DM_Centaur, DM_Mystic, DM Rendyll, DM_Avalon
-
temordae01
- Baron
- Posts: 77
- Joined: Sun Mar 11, 2007 3:30 am
Alana watched the man with interest. His cigar roiled smoke into the morning air and his eyepatch under a wide brimmed hat tickled her memory. She shifted the large bow on her back and ambled on up to him.
"Howdy little lady." He tipped his hat to her and then it hit her.
"Don't I know you sir?" Her drawl left over from living far to the west came through and he frowned as if remembering something. "I've come from a ways west, and you seem awfully familiar."
His one eye roamed over her and he pulled the stogie from his mouth. "Your father and I knew each other...Alana was it?" She blanched as the memory slammed home.
"Ala...Alastor? It IS you!" Alana gave him as big a bear hug as her little elven frame could. "Father's dead, Mother's gone and left for Gods know where, and there were so many Orcs! I had to get away, I just had to!" She was shaking with the release of emotion.
Alastor hesitantly returned her hug, a bit embarassed in the middle of the Keep. "Easy there Alana, just tell me what happened." He patted her on the shoulder.
"Well..." Alana, Alastor, and James B. Hickok were seen later by the citizens of Bordermarch in their tavern, drinking and telling old tales of remembrance for hours on end.
"Howdy little lady." He tipped his hat to her and then it hit her.
"Don't I know you sir?" Her drawl left over from living far to the west came through and he frowned as if remembering something. "I've come from a ways west, and you seem awfully familiar."
His one eye roamed over her and he pulled the stogie from his mouth. "Your father and I knew each other...Alana was it?" She blanched as the memory slammed home.
"Ala...Alastor? It IS you!" Alana gave him as big a bear hug as her little elven frame could. "Father's dead, Mother's gone and left for Gods know where, and there were so many Orcs! I had to get away, I just had to!" She was shaking with the release of emotion.
Alastor hesitantly returned her hug, a bit embarassed in the middle of the Keep. "Easy there Alana, just tell me what happened." He patted her on the shoulder.
"Well..." Alana, Alastor, and James B. Hickok were seen later by the citizens of Bordermarch in their tavern, drinking and telling old tales of remembrance for hours on end.
With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion.
- Steven Weinberg
- Steven Weinberg
Alastor had been confused by the lack of concrete authority figures in the keep. He had encountered the warden of the keep, who had wanted adventurers to dispatch hoards of goblins who had taken over a local mine, and had also found a man named Rodran who appeared to work with the guards.
The guards themselves seemed to patrol around the entrance to the keep, but mostly just wandered around by the old oak tree.
How could any form of government withstand such a lax approach to security? He had considered walking up to the warden to ask about such matters, but held himself back. After all, perhaps he didn't know the entire story about the region.
Many years of training under the elves had taught him that a warrior's best tool was to watch and assess before flinging oneself into battle. He had no desire to take a foolhardy approach this time.
Seeing Alana again had brought back painful memories of the past. He had trained long and hard with her father. He had learned many tactics, and was impressed with the elven style of battle.
But he also remembered Alana's reputation amongst her people. She had been rumored to be too brash and foolhardy. Much more so than the common elf. He was not surprised to see that she had left her family to come to the keep. She had excellent parentage, no doubt about it. That sword she kept strapped to her back was a reminder of the power her father had wielded.
She was an honest sort, and being brash was an important part of keeping the peace. She'd do nicely, he thought to himself. She could help keep the law around here... Even if she might be one to jump before talking and reasoning.
Depadee had traveled with him around the keep, noticing various problems. Many adventurers had come to the region. Supposedly pulled by the threat of Shalnath's forces. But it seemed that others were drawn by the chance to join with the demon or take its power, while others just saw the opportunity to victimize the opposing sides.
Some ran through the streets with their weapons drawn. Alastor's hands itched with the desire to whip the weapons out of their hands, but he restrained himself, continuing to watch.
Others were loose with their tongues and insulted those who passed. Words, he could deal with. Evidence of law breaking, he could not abide.
At one point, he found an old accomplice, James Butler Hickok, gambling at the inn. He had apparently won a number of hands of poker against the citizen, who appeared to have lost much of his money, and gave the two a scathing look as they shook hands.
Adventuring with JB was like old times, as they hunted down monsters who preyed on travelers journeying down the roads in the forests.
Jaylor Holliday came next. The stout dwarven woman was a testament to her kind. She had witnessed much in the mountains to the West. Her clan had fought with gold prospectors for many centuries, and many of her clan had died in more recent battles with the demon Azazel and its minions.
Chavez had also journeyed to the keep. That one had a noble history steeped in hardened battle. His tribe did not take sides in the wars and was decimated during a battle similar to Alastor's own background.
Alastor was content to just wander and observe. Depadee, on the other hand, was not as subtle, nor as patient.
One day, as the two walked out into the hamlet, they noticed a man standing holding a farm implement. Alastor recognized it as a kama, used for gathering crops and eliminating weeds.
When attempting to strike up conversation, Depadee made a comment the man was not pleased with. The man made threats, which did not faze Alastor, but his claim that he had just killed an elf in the nearby bard did.
Depadee stood guard while he investigated. Far from having a dead body in the barn, Alastor found a number of large rats, which he had to kill before returning to find Depadee arguing with the man.
Alastor tried to defuse the situation. He mentioned to the man that as far as he could tell, no law had been violated, and it seemed like the man, himself, was delusional. Why else would someone admit to a murder that appeared to have not happened?
The man took offense toward Alastor, which he personally found confusing. He was NOT the law around the keep. The man seemed to be insulted by just being asked the questions he had been asked.
The blow that hit him was magical in nature, the second hit from an arrow of one of his companions was not. Alastor fell to the ground, unconscious.
When he was revived a moment later by Depadee, the men were gone.
"This may be tougher than I though," he grumbled to Depadee.
The guards themselves seemed to patrol around the entrance to the keep, but mostly just wandered around by the old oak tree.
How could any form of government withstand such a lax approach to security? He had considered walking up to the warden to ask about such matters, but held himself back. After all, perhaps he didn't know the entire story about the region.
Many years of training under the elves had taught him that a warrior's best tool was to watch and assess before flinging oneself into battle. He had no desire to take a foolhardy approach this time.
Seeing Alana again had brought back painful memories of the past. He had trained long and hard with her father. He had learned many tactics, and was impressed with the elven style of battle.
But he also remembered Alana's reputation amongst her people. She had been rumored to be too brash and foolhardy. Much more so than the common elf. He was not surprised to see that she had left her family to come to the keep. She had excellent parentage, no doubt about it. That sword she kept strapped to her back was a reminder of the power her father had wielded.
She was an honest sort, and being brash was an important part of keeping the peace. She'd do nicely, he thought to himself. She could help keep the law around here... Even if she might be one to jump before talking and reasoning.
Depadee had traveled with him around the keep, noticing various problems. Many adventurers had come to the region. Supposedly pulled by the threat of Shalnath's forces. But it seemed that others were drawn by the chance to join with the demon or take its power, while others just saw the opportunity to victimize the opposing sides.
Some ran through the streets with their weapons drawn. Alastor's hands itched with the desire to whip the weapons out of their hands, but he restrained himself, continuing to watch.
Others were loose with their tongues and insulted those who passed. Words, he could deal with. Evidence of law breaking, he could not abide.
At one point, he found an old accomplice, James Butler Hickok, gambling at the inn. He had apparently won a number of hands of poker against the citizen, who appeared to have lost much of his money, and gave the two a scathing look as they shook hands.
Adventuring with JB was like old times, as they hunted down monsters who preyed on travelers journeying down the roads in the forests.
Jaylor Holliday came next. The stout dwarven woman was a testament to her kind. She had witnessed much in the mountains to the West. Her clan had fought with gold prospectors for many centuries, and many of her clan had died in more recent battles with the demon Azazel and its minions.
Chavez had also journeyed to the keep. That one had a noble history steeped in hardened battle. His tribe did not take sides in the wars and was decimated during a battle similar to Alastor's own background.
Alastor was content to just wander and observe. Depadee, on the other hand, was not as subtle, nor as patient.
One day, as the two walked out into the hamlet, they noticed a man standing holding a farm implement. Alastor recognized it as a kama, used for gathering crops and eliminating weeds.
When attempting to strike up conversation, Depadee made a comment the man was not pleased with. The man made threats, which did not faze Alastor, but his claim that he had just killed an elf in the nearby bard did.
Depadee stood guard while he investigated. Far from having a dead body in the barn, Alastor found a number of large rats, which he had to kill before returning to find Depadee arguing with the man.
Alastor tried to defuse the situation. He mentioned to the man that as far as he could tell, no law had been violated, and it seemed like the man, himself, was delusional. Why else would someone admit to a murder that appeared to have not happened?
The man took offense toward Alastor, which he personally found confusing. He was NOT the law around the keep. The man seemed to be insulted by just being asked the questions he had been asked.
The blow that hit him was magical in nature, the second hit from an arrow of one of his companions was not. Alastor fell to the ground, unconscious.
When he was revived a moment later by Depadee, the men were gone.
"This may be tougher than I though," he grumbled to Depadee.