INTERACTIVE STORY #4...
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Come ooon, let's get started Jumps around like a demented kangaroo
The newcomer shook Treguard to wake him up.
"Wha-, what? Who are you?" Treguard started
"Treguard, have you really been here all on your own this past 11 years?"
Treguard nodded sadly, he was still half asleep and wondered if he could be dreaming.
"Well, that's going to change, because I've got someone here to see you" the figure smiled
Treguard jumped with a start "Wait a minute, aren't you..."
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Tregaurd woundered why he hadn't rconised his guest before now.
The figure that stood before him was dressed in the robes of a holy man but his faces was shrouded with a Hood.
"Brother Strange!!"
Treagaurd said in a mixture of shock and joy at seeing an old allie.
"What brings you to Knightmare Castle again after all these Years??"
"Dungeonmaster I bring some news and another guest. He is I belive at the Threshold of your castle now, I did not invite him in as that task is the job of a Dungeon Master.
The Mysterius monk bowed his head in respect to the Dungeon master and steaped aside to alow Treagurd to pass and invite there other guest into the antechamber in the customery way.
-
When he perceived the guest's identity he was momentarily convinced that it must be a dream after all, a notion dispelled only by the certainty that such a shock would have woken him up, which had not occurred. Treguard couldn't work out what he was doing there or how he should deal with him, but it was unquestionably he in face, build, clothes and voice:
"Greeting, Dungeon Master."
"Mogdred!"
-
**
Bit out with the numbering...you've already done an Interactive Story #3! http://www.knightmare.com/forum/http://www.knightmare.com/forum/viewforum.php?f=7;action=display;threadid=1199
Oops...edited!!**
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Tregaurd was more shocked to see his old nemasis Mogdred then had had been to see Brother Strange. Tregaurd quickly pulled himself together and started to waigh the situation up in his mind What ever was going on he did not like it one bit.
"So Necromancer what brings you back to this realm? I thought we had seen the last of you after the 4 phase of The Dungeon."
Mogdred regarded Tregaurd coldly and with contempt.
"Belive me Dungeon Master it is not by my own free choice I return to this relam. The Techno Magic that my succsesor Lord Fear has filled this relam with is like poison to my pure magic, and has there for renderd me almost completly powerless. However I am here now due to Magic far stronger then mine."
Now Tregaurd was certain he did not like this situation he had found himself in.
Mogdred continued
"I have been pulled across space and time against my will by a power so great that it threaterns even Lord Fear's magic."
"What Power Mogdread?"
Tregaurd asked even though he feard the ansrew.
"By The Alzan race."
Came the reply
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Treguard shuddered. He knew he was in no position to challenge the will of the Alzan race.
He sighed as the only thing he cauld do to get rid of Mogdred was appeal to them directly and wait. But he knew he had neither the strength nor the courage. The only thing he could do was try to get used to this.
Treguard secretly wondered why the Alzan race would want to bring Mogdred back. He also wondered if Merlin had also returned.
As these thoughts buzzed relentlessly around his head, Brother Strange spoke:
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"Dungeon Master, as you are no dought aware this is a very dangerous development. If The Alzan race have taken an intrest in this realm you can be sure it is not a one of peace and freindship, but one of conquest."
"And Mogdread's presence here is proof of that for I am sure they intended for him to fight with Lord Fear and in the carnage that would certainly of insued mearly walk in and conqure. However due to the polution of the magic aura in this realm due to Fear's Technomagic that can not happan."
"However the rest of the news I'm affraid is not as hopefull. The Alzan's seeing there first plan has failed have sent there Cheif agent of sabotarge and terror, The Mercenery Leytan into this realm."
"Why? What can one Mercenery do? Even one with the reputation of Leytan. Any trouble he stires up is not going to be enough to cover the arrival of The Alzans"
"He's not here for that purpose Fool!"
Mogdread sneered
"The Tact of the Alzanshas changed now there looking just to invad and Leytan is here to open a gateway for them. By useing one of Merlins old spell books."
"He is Dungeon master at this very moment hunting threw the levels for the one book which holds the spell to allow one relam to phase with another."
-
[I must confess, I feel disappointed. I had an idea last night to follow Thanatos' post that I was enthusiastic about, but obviously, I failed to post in time.
Not only are Leytan and the Alzans Ricky/Skarkill's long-standing creations, but they've been extensively developed through roleplay and writing outside this forum, and I'm not sure that I'd be comfortable 'playing' with them myself.
So, I may well refrain from contributing to this story; but, for the sake of interest, here is what I'd been hoping to contribute after Thanatos' instalment:
Treguard stared, almost incredulous that not only was this incarnation of evil standing before him after an absence of many years, but also that this was the first time he and Mogdred had actually met in person. And this inaugurated a feeling within the heart of the Dungeon Master that he considered it a sin for him to broach: the feeling of fear. He, Treguard of Dunshelm, found himself doing what he had resisted doing so many times in days of yore: he was looking upon Mogdred, and quailing. How could this happen? He experienced a resurgence of the fleeting shame that he used to feel as dungeoneers walked to their deaths, while he sat passively in his chair so far from the 'front line', like a corrupt despot on his throne. As if in response to his shame, he leapt to his feet, and met his erstwile enemy's nonchalant gaze with his own trademark glare.
"What," demanded Treguard, losing himself for a moment in cliché, "is the meaning of this?"
Mogdred countered with a cliché of his own. "I was not dead, Treguard. I was merely sleeping."
"And it was I who woke him," confessed Brother Strange. Clearly, 'let sleeping dogs lie' was one proverb that had not made it into his volume. "With the aid of two of my brethren: one who remembers Mogdred's dominion, and one who remembers his departure."
Two names came to Treguard's troubled mind: Cedric and Mace. Seemingly, the three monks had somehow retrieved Mogdred from the purgatory he had been banished to after his last manifestation. But, why? Why would they...
"I am here because the Powers That Be need me," intoned Mogdred. Relishing Treguard's disgust at this idea, he continued. "A certain deed has been perpetrated by my alter ego, and the monks of your Dungeon, while greatly troubled by its implications, know that I can help like no one else."
Treguard found his voice faltering. "Merlin? He... he's back? What has he done?"
"Yes. It's Merlin," said Brother Strange slowly. "He's stolen Christmas."]
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(Whatever, let's get on with the story!
![😕](https://www.knightmare.com/forum/assets/plugins/nodebb-plugin-emoji/emoji/android/1f615.png?v=cbb8c768457 ":-\")
Sorry for the outburst, but it should be spontaneous and improvised. I've never roleplayed either but these interruptions are starting to get kind of irritating...sorry but I had to just say that.
I vote for continuing with Drassil's.)
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(In that case...)
"Christmas?!" said Treguard in disbelief. "But that's preposterous!"
He cast his mind back to a quest which now seemed so long ago. Young Giles and his advisors Robin, Andrew, and Bret, who came so close to victory. Just a few more rooms and the Cup that Heals would have been theirs, but, alas, Christmas Day was less than a week away, and the path closed for another year.
"But Merlin showed no disdain for the holiday when I last saw him" said Treguard. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
"On the contrary" replied Mogdred. "His love for the event has grown to enormous proportions, to the point of insanity. He feels that only he should have Christmas, as he is the only one who deserves it"
"As you can see..." interrupted Brother Strange, pointlessly, "this is indeed a grave matter".
"It certainly sounds unusual" said Treguard, "but I am willing to help. And we need to get on with it, too; we only have a short time before the holiday returns"
"As much as it pains me to say so...I agree" replied Mogdred. "And here's what I suggest we do first..."
-
(Whatever, let's get on with the story!
Sorry for the outburst, but it should be spontaneous and improvised. I've never roleplayed either but these interruptions are starting to get kind of irritating...sorry but I had to just say that.
I vote for continuing with Drassil's.)
[I'd like to apologise for breaking into the storytelling in the way that I did - it was a tad selfish of me, and I can see how it might be irritating. Although in my defence, I'd like to point out that there'd been an entire week without any new instalments shortly before my first post, and likewise with this post.
With that in mind...]
Before Mogdred could say any more, the viewing screen in the antechamber shimmered and whined. The old and long-disused equipment took a while to display a clear image. A woman was gazing with furrowed brow upon the room. The Dungeon Master hurriedly stepped forward to address her.
"Sidriss. What may we... I... do for you?"
Sidriss replied in a voice more austere than when Treguard had last heard it. "Greetings, Dungeon Master. I am aware of the Dungeon's current predicament." She paused. "As is my father."
A tall figure appeared at Sidriss' side. His beard and hair were white, his outfit a rich and familiar shade of red, but it was bound across his round stomach by a belt that looked suspiciously like a silly rope.
"Ho... Ho.. Hordriss?" spluttered Treguard.
"Mace?" uttered Brother Strange.
The figure blinked slowly and sighed. "Call us... Macefact."
Eyeing the screen, Mogdred was doing something he'd hadn't thought possible: he was withholding a maniacal laugh. He was greatly amused, but this precarious situation called for restraint - for now. He settled for a mere smirk. "I assume this was Merlin's doing?"
Macefact grimaced curiously at Mogdred, and nodded. "Merlin wanted to create an agent of Christmas to do his insane bidding, and felt that an amalgam of two - myself and er, oneself - would result in something akin to the fatherly personification of Christmas from the dungeoneer's realm. He caught us unaware, and we were unable to resist."
"Adding Brother Mace to Father has really improved his sense of humour!" continued Sidriss blithely. "But it also sharpened his Latin, and he was able to cast a complicated spell and escape from Merlin."
"This is the magic of shift-and-blend," declared Mogdred, relishing the importance of his superior understanding. "Merlin is able to blend individuals, just as he was able to shift the evil from within him into the form of a new individual. Yet removing so much of himself is what has left his mind so unstable." He scrutinised the listeners, waiting for them to realise what he meant.
And indeed, Treguard did. He ruminated on the phrase 'shift and blend', which had mysteriously entered his vocabulary some years ago. He thought of the magic Lord Fear had somehow acquired and used to combine Bhal and Shebah into Firestorm some years ago. And most of all, he pondered Merlin. He had always wondered how someone as august and longevitous as that could never go senile, forgetting names and sleeping for years on end. Now he understood. Every mind needs a balance of dark and light - he recalled his own earlier days as a far more sinister man, and Hordriss' - but Merlin, by extracting his own dark side and turning into his 'alter ego', had slowly but surely unbalanced his great mind. Calling himself Marlin was one thing; stealing Christmas was quite another. Something had to be done.
"There's nothing we can do for my father at the moment," said Sidriss, as the monk-mage next to her frowned and nodded. "We have more pressing concerns. I went to seek help from the elves, but they're gone, and I found out why. Merlin's kidnapped them all to make toys for him. All except one..."
And everyone turned as that very elf charged breathlessly into the antechamber.
[I hope that's not too long!]
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Pickle rushed in "Master, I'm back! I heard about this predicament and now I believe there's something else you should know..."
He turned around. There where a magnificent pair of red, firey dragon's wings on his back
"Merlin did this to send toys to all the different levels;to eliminate the need for Smirkenorff. But I ran away before he could do anything else" Then he whined, "But I can't stand Elita's nagging."
"Stop obsessing with your own problems, elf. Can't you see everyone's in a mess?"
Pickle gulped. "Sorry, Master-but I think you should know...he's planning to do something very similar with you and there's only one person who can put an end to all this."
Treguard's eyes widened "Oh no, I had enough of them the first time round"
"But it's the only way, Master. We have to make allowances..."
-
Mogdred was puzzled. If the elf was right, and there was another who could stop Merlin, then why did the monks go to so much trouble to resurrect him? He felt a sense of trepidation creeping within him, as he realised that he might be nothing but an inferior pawn within this latest Dungeon game, soon to be knocked off the chessboard; for he knew so little about the forces that had sallied forth into the Dungeon during his years of absence. He loathed to contemplate it, but perhaps the Opposition had been taken over by one with powers as great as his own.
Mogdred no longer felt like laughing. He decided that he must tacitly learn all he could, and recommence the fight for his own interests only when he could be certain of victory...
"If I may raise a question," spoke Brother Strange. "If Merlin wants to steal Christmas, then why would he have elves deliver toys across the Dungeon? Even to Level 3? Cavernwights, catacombites, gargoyles: do they know it's Christmas time at all?"
"Old habits die hard," replied Macefact, realising with a slight smile that this was the probably the wittiest thing one could say to a monk who collected proverbs. "Merlin is so accustomed to distributing clue objects and scrolls throughout the Dungeon that we suspect his broken mind is feverishly obeying that custom. Except that these toys he would not have left to others as presents - he wanted me to steal them back."
Sidriss piped up, determined not to be forever in her father's shadow, even if he had experienced the novelty of being merged with a monk. "Father told me that Merlin's stronghold is in Winteria." She looked hopefully at Pickle for confirmation, and he duly nodded, shaking snowflakes from his thick hair. "He wanted to guarantee himself a white Christmas."
"Queen Aesandre would be a valuable ally," said Macefact, finishing the thought. "But does she still rule Winteria?"
Treguard was no fan of the troublesome ice wench, but could not deny the potential of Macefact's proposal. "Aesandre has not been heard of for many years," he explained. "It's possible that Lord Fear took revenge on her for freezing the Dungeon."
Mogdred listened intently. 'Lord Fear'? A pretentious joke of a name if ever he'd heard one. But this Lord of Fear could be a greater threat to his plans than anyone else.
Before he could be interrupted, Treguard seized the initiative. Moments ago he had been snoozing in his chair; now he was being given the chance to prove to all who doubted him that he deserved his chair, his antechamber, his castle... his Dungeon. "I suggest that we journey to Winteria, find Aesandre, and pool our resources against Merlin. Without delay." He looked around. "Unless anyone has any other ideas?"
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"If it would be any help old thing then I do" said a familair yet cheery sneer.
They turned to see Lord F stood at the door yet instead of wearing his familar clothes, was wearing a long dark red coat, a dark blue and yellow waist coat, an edwardian bow, a 15ft long multi-coloured scarf, light grey trousers with cowboy boots. Yet wearing his shiney helmet. What was strange though is that he had a carpet under his arm.
"Lord Fear what are you doing wearing that ridiculous garb?" Treguard asked, "Merlin's magic?"
"No, I usually wear this on my good days, helps brighton the day don't you think?" said Fear trying to get a pun in, "But anyway as I was saying..."
-
Treguard looked again at the insanely motley crew that had found its way into his antechamber (not that Motley the jester was among them):
The elf, who sported a set of wyrm's wings it appeared he couldn't use yet;
The monk who was Strange by name and by nature;
Not one, but two pale sorcerers whom Treguard once viewed as dangerous arch-enemies, and whom he now feared could undermine him at any moment;
And on the viewing screen, an erudite and eccentric cross between another monk and another sorcerer, with a trainee sorceress standing beside him.
The antechamber hadn't been so outlandishly crowded since... since Merlin filled it with decorations and sent those boys home in time for Christmas. The memory of which brought Treguard uncomfortably back to the task at hand.
"Lord Fear," asserted Treguard, "Because of the imminent crisis in the Dungeon, I will excuse your uninvited entrance into my castle. But I'm not quite sure we want any ideas from you, particularly if they're as ludicrous as your outfit!"
Although he was keen to get underway and begin the journey to Winteria, Treguard waited to hear if Lord Fear, or indeed any of his other bizarre guests, would say anything more.
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[Since there doesn't seem to be much of a desire to continue the story at present, I'm going to add some more. Although I'd hope for the story to be as interactive as possible, I'd prefer not to see it grind to an extended halt as previous Interactive Stories have. However much I may end up contributing myself, others are of course welcome to add to the story at any time.]
...However, most of those in the antechamber had fallen oddly silent. Certain faces looked a little pained, but Treguard put this down to anxiety over their unusual situation. Macefact cleared his throat.
"Dungeon Master, your antechamber should not be left unattended. Certain factions might choose to take advantage." Macefact looked at Lord Fear, who said nothing.
"I appreciate your concern, but this matter demands my attention," retorted Treguard. He'd spent more than enough time in the antechamber - the Dungeon needed him, though he needed the Dungeon more.
"In that case, may we offer to look after Knightmare Castle in locum tenens? Although we escaped from Merlin, we are still bound by his magic, and the only way for us to return to Winteria would be the way we left - the singular method of travel that Merlin wanted us to use."
Macefact muttered something in Latin, and the view on Treguard's screen changed, to show a sleigh with Grippa and Rhark tied to the front and looking rather limp.
As Macefact and Sidriss reappeared on the screen, Treguard was still gawping, with Pickle exclaiming, "He's mad, Master! He must be stopped!" Treguard agreed that the Sidriss and Macefact should take care of the castle, knowing he could attempt to use Hordriss' calling name if he had to. He wasn't keen for Lord Fear to join the expedition to Winteria (assuming he'd come to the antechamber purely to gloat), and felt that Brother Strange was better off returning to the monastery and updating the monks on recent developments. Oddly, neither Fear nor Strange voiced any objections to this.
Knowing that travelling to Winteria by magic would alert Merlin immediately, Treguard gathered supplies for a journey to Winteria on foot. He hoped to enter the hibernal kingdom as quietly as the snow fell, and keep hold of the element of surprise. He also wanted plenty of time to decide exactly how Merlin was to be dealt with, and to develop sufficient trust in Mogdred, much as a child might take a heap of cold, pale snow and build it into a snowman. Though he armed himself with a sword, just in case.
And so, with Lord Fear and Brother Strange having silently departed, Macefact and Sidriss arrived at Knightmare Castle and wished Treguard and Pickle well as they set off with Mogdred. Though no one gave much thought to why Fear and Strange had become so quiet and compliant. It was Mogdred's doing. Just as he had constrained Treguard many years ago, preventing him from speaking to his charges while Mogdred enveloped a dungeoneer in a SHROUD spell, so he had used what magic he could muster to silence Fear and Strange. He had plans for his encounter with Merlin, and he wanted no one to speak out against him. When the monk and technomancer got control of their voices back, they would find that any attempts to warn the others about Mogdred would be too late.
The unusual trio - the Dungeon Master, his former assistant and his erstwhile enemy - trod a depressing path across Wolfenden as they headed through Level One. The marketplace was deserted: Christmas shopping was non-existent. So were decorations. Children stood crying in the street, then ran inside screaming when they saw Mogdred. The townsfolk were discovering what winter was like when there was no Christmas to look forward to, and were clearly finding it very hard to take. Treguard tried to offer reassurance to those he passed closest to, but his own morale was being shaken with every corner they turned.
By the time they reached the Crazed Heifer on the edge of the Forest of Dunn, Treguard suggested pausing for a drink. How cowardly he felt for wanting to seek courage in a flagon of ale, but he justified it by convincing himself that chill and thirst demanded it. Mogdred seemed to be occupied by his own thoughts and did not argue, and Pickle was keen to search for familiar faces in the familiar tavern.
Treguard had fond memories of slipping out to the Crazed Heifer on Christmas Eve for a cup of mulled wine. But as he pushed open the creaky door of the pub, he had no idea who or what might lie within.
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