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Yay! A new hat! *plops the new hat on head and wiggled head from side to side* It makes a JINGLE!

Oh, and congratulations to Myinah for the well-deserved win!

[Best Non-King Character:]

Best Non-King Character: Sinitrena (the narrator again)
Best King: Myinah - All hail the great leader!
Best Atmosphere: Myinah - I can almost see the oppressive burger joint, the armed guard looming in the background, and hear the uplifting music honouring the Great Leader.
Best Ending: Myinah - Though I would have loved to see this thing escalate waaay out of control!
Best Background World: Kconan - So much detail! And the lions got to me!
Best Writing Style: Sinitrena, Myinah
Most Substantive: Myinah - I approve of waterboarding over missing beef.

[The Führer]

I sort of wanted to subvert the idea of an incompetent leader, and rather went for a perceived incompetent leader and some alternate history. See for yourselves.

------------------

The Führer

“Herr Führer, what do we do? The communists are inside the city and the men are faltering! The reports from the west are no better and people are...”

There is a long pause as tension fills the air as the man searches for the right words. The fans that circulate air in the bunker are clearly audible as a distant hum.

“Herr Führer, the people are afraid!” -he finally manages.

The black-clad officer is pale in the face and sweating profusely. The others: Goebbels, Heinz and the handful of officers and secretaries are equally frightened-looking, as if they were all worn out and hadn't slept in days. Most of them probably hadn't.

How tired they all look, Adolf thinks to himself, and how tired he himself must look after all these years. Then he blinks once, twice, and straightens his back for one last time.

“You have your orders, all of you.” -he barks, spittle flying in the air as he speaks. His trembling hand whisks away a runaway strand of hair from his forehead as he continues to spout: “Berlin must not fall, and I have full confidence in the stalwart men standing against the communists. We have nothing, I repeat, nothing to fear from Stalin's dogs!”

The words take a few moments to sink in. Adolf can see, out of the corner of his eye, Goebbels rolling his eyes in poorly hidden disgust. Adolf brushes his tan uniform of accumulated dust and raises his hand in a salute, which no-one returns.

“Now I must bid you all farewell, as Eva and I will now retreat for the night. Goodnight.”

The others gasp in abject horror and look on, wide-eyed and afraid, as Adolf and Eva turn and leave, closing the bulky metal door behind them as they enter the Führer's bunker proper.

“Do you think they bought it?” -Eva asks as soon as the door closes with a metallic clang.

“Of course they did. Not one of them would question their Führer at this stage, the time for such folly is long gone.” -Adolf replies, punctuating the sentence with a long, weary sigh, as he walks through the door of the darkened conference room and pauses. He remembers the Wolfsschanze -incident all too well. A chill runs down his spine. Eva places her hand reassuringly over Adolf's shoulder.

“Come now, dear, there is still one more thing to do.”

She turns to the left and opens the door to Adolf's office. The hinges operate soundlessly and as the door opens, a bright red light momentarily blinds them both. As his eyes adjust, Adolf can see the ornate glass case sitting on his desk, the carved bas relief depicting some strange betentacled creature crouching or sitting behind the thick glass, emitting the ominous red illumination that seems to envelop the world around it, distorting the air and making his head swim.

Eva steps through the office door and delicately places her hand over the glass.

“Is it hot?” -Adolf asks.

“Ice cold...” -she replies, her voice quivering slightly.

Adolf steps into the office as well, closing the door behind him.

“The smell of it. Even through the glass it smells of the sea.” -Eva says reverently.

“We shouldn't waste time. Too many have suffered over this already. We owe it to the Japanese to finish this here and now.”

Eva nods at that, moving her hand to the small handle embedded in the glass. Adolf moves to the desk as well, placing his hand over the identical handle on the opposite side. The two pause for a second, looking through the glass at the figurine, then slowly raising their eyes to look at one another.

“I love you, Eva.”

“I love you too, Adolf.”

Without another word the two of them lift the glass case, and almost instantly the ethereal red hue that had coloured the room envelopes them both. The glass case disappears from sight, as does the entire office and the bunker around them. Clouds and smoke swirl in the sky around them as their spirits fly up and away, circling the carved relief between them.

Adolf glances down and can see the entirety of Berlin spread below him, like a map. To the east the city is enveloped in flames, explosions tearing down entire city blocks as the soviets advance. Eva cries out, a wordless wail of disgust. In seconds, Adolf too, can sense it: a foul stench is being emitted by the relief, reminding him of all the worst things he has experienced, as if all of his fears and nightmares were embedded in that loathsome stench.

With determination and willpower, Eva and Adolf push on, approaching the relief, which now seems to float several kilometers in the air above the city, rotating slowly. The carved bas tentacles seem to slowly twitch and turn, as if the carved idol was slowly coming to life.

Adolf and Eva moved closer, locking their fingers together, forming a two-person circle around the relief. The two of them shivered with the cold, recoiled from the stench and cried out in pain as the red-hue of the relief assaulted their eyes and skin, but they held on, hand in hand. To let go now, would doom not only Berlin, but all of Europe, perhaps even all of the world.

Faint forms of men and women floated past them, ghosts of those killed on the battlefields below. Adolf looks at one such form as it floats past Eva's shoulder and sees sorrow and fear in the dead man's eyes. Tears well in his eyes as he thinks of all the people who have died at his orders.

“Be strong, Adolf! Be strong now!” -Eva shouts, her face distorted by the pain and the effort, but her voice is only a whisper, barely audible over the unnatural silence emitted by the relief. Adolf nods, the effort sending jolts of pain through the muscles of his neck and his spine, then closes his eyes, focusing his will. He can feel the spirits of the dead, a dome of them high above, kept in this world by the will of the order and the magicks of the Schwarze Sonne, the scattered hordes of the dead slowly rising from below. They are warm, gentle spirits, and it is that warmth that keeps Adolf and Eva alive through this trial of wills. It is their unknowing sacrifice that permits the two of them to live and fight on.

“Now! We must do it now!” -Eva screams.

Adolf tightens his grip on Eva's hands and begins to roar, not intentionally, but as an uncontrollable side-effect of the exertion his mind is now going through. Through his mind's eye he can see the dome of spirits above suddenly caving in, the hollow forms of dead men and women swirling down and towards the relief. At first the red glow of the carved idol repels the torrent of spirits, rending the souls of the fallen into pale shreds and mist, but as more and more slam against the bubble of force around it, the light begins to change shade, turning first purple and then a shade of pale blue, before collapsing entirely.

“It's working! It's breaking!” -Adolf exclaims after gasping in a breath of icy air. Eva does not respond.

“Eva?” -he calls out.

Only silence is her reply.

Fighting against the cold and the pain, Adolf forces himself to open his eyes, to truly see the maelstrom of souls washing over the bas relief, which is now spinning wildly, chips of the carved idol flying off and disappearing is puffs of black smoke. Eva is still there, her cold fingers tightly gripping his, but her eyes have rolled into the back of her head and her face is distorted and frozen in a scream of agony.

Seconds feel like hours, but finally the bas relief breaks completely. In an instant Adolf finds himself tumbling down, through the air, through the perceived kilometers and kilometers of emptiness and clouds. Just as he is about to impact with the ground, his hands slip.

With a thud the two of them fall to the floor, again in the darkness of the small office. The glass case lies shattered on the floor and there is no sign of the carved bas relief within. The room feels cold and a strange smell lingers in the air, a foul and hated smell, like that of bitter almonds.

“Eva?” -Adolf calls out, his voice hoarse. She does not reply.

Adolf lifts himself up from the floor, and reaches out to his desk lamp, yanking on the switch. The light feels blinding and hurts his eyes, but it allows him to see properly.

Eva is not in the room. Instead, the door leading to the sitting room beyond the office lies ajar.

“Eva?”

Her name seems to hang in the thick air. With great difficulty, Adolf takes a step, then another and another, finally reaching the doorway. Tears stream down his face as he sees Eva sitting on the sofa, slumped to the side, her hair messy and windblown, her face pale and cold, her eyes unseeing and dead.

Adolf steps closer, leaning in to kiss her gently on the cheek, then running his fingers over her eyelids to close them. He draws his sidearm, a reliable Walther PPK and clicks the safety off. He sits down next to the woman he loved and only recently married, and wordlessly places the weapon at his own temple.

---

As the sun rises over the columns of thick black smoke in the east, Joseph Goebbels sits at his desk, writing. He pauses, searching for the right words to put down on the paper, when a man bursts into the room.

“The Führer! He's dead! The Reich is lost!” -the man speaks the words hurriedly and clumsily, through gasps and gulps, while hanging to the doorframe.

Goebbels grimaces and places the pen he had been writing with on the desk, then steeples his trembling fingers, forcing himself calm. What a waste, he thinks to himself as the man in the doorway stares at him, dumbfounded. What an utter waste all these years had been, and he had had such high hopes for the Führer. In the end it was all in vain, and all because the man he had trusted, the man the German people had trusted, had been such a wasteful fool...

Congratulations to Baron! Glad to see so many people voted.

[Sinitrena]

Best Character: Sinitrena, for the lavishly detailed vampire

Best Plot: Sinitrena's gothic vampire tale really got my mind working overtime. Lovely details and lore embedded in a lovely package, albeit a bit too lengthy for the Fortnightly.

Best Atmosphere: Sinitrena's prison takes the cake from the first words to the last. Lovely, how the mindset of the protagonist affects the mood of the tale so much.

Best Setting: Sinitrena, for certain. The Facility of Baron's design does not tell much of itself, and seems like a rather bland incarceration facility in comparison. The fact that Sinitrena and I also see eye to eye when it comes to choosing a time period also helped my decision.

Best Word Choice/Style: Baron. I feel that Sinitrena's story suffered from it's length and numerous typographical errors, although the issue is more in technique than style.


EDIT: I just realized what I did! Someone else vote! Read up, folks, getcha readin' on right here, this fortnight! Read'n'vote'n'validate our existence!

Good grief, and here I was thinking that I wrote a fairly long piece this fortnight.

I'll try and read both of the stories over the next day or two. With so few participants I really hope we get more voters than just the participants themselves.

[It's in the blood]

It's in the blood

Rain falls down on the heads and shoulders of men at sea, as five longboats tether themselves to the side of a far larger ship, which stands still amidst the waves, despite the ocean waves crashing into it's sides. Lightning flashes high above, revealing the dark silhouettes of men at the railings, followed by a roaring boom of thunder.

“Get up there, ya gits! Move on up, or you'll never see the light o' day again! Up! Up the ladder!”

Rough hands push and shove at the ragged young boys cowering at the side of the two longboats, as they desperately reach up at the rope ladders swinging in the wind. Two boys on each ladder are holding on for dear life, knuckles raw and teeth gritted, and trying desperately to pull themselves up. Sprays of salt water soak them from head to toe, and the longboat rolls and heaves as wave after wave rebounds from the hulking side of the larger vessel.

To the left and to the right, other longboats carrying provisions are offloaded, the kegs and crates hauled up and away on crude rope pulleys as men curse and shout abuse somewhere in the darkness above.

“Please, Sir! I'm not supposed to... I'm not-”

A man in a red coat slams a flintlock pistol sideways and into the jaw of the pleading boy, who looks like he's barely fifteen.

“Up the ladder you sorry scum, or it'll be a drowning death!” -he shouts as others grab the bloodied boy before he falls over the side and into the waves.

More boys join the climb, goaded on by the soldiers in the red coats, as well as shouts hooting laughter from above. Up top, one of them slips and loses his grasp. He shrieks like some otherworldly beast as he tumbles, gets tangled in the ropes and finally falls, head first. There is a loud crack and a chorus of frightened shouts as the falling boy strikes the side of the longboat, which responds by swinging even more violently than before. The lifeless body tumbles overboard and disappears in the blackness of the sea.

“Last one's coming up! Depart!” -comes a shout, and the other longboat carrying fresh prisoners pushes away from the larger ship. A skinny young boy, with blonde hair and pale green eyes, his face covered in little cuts and bruises and his crude shirt stained with blood, grabs the rope ladder and begins his ascent. Sprays of salt water sting his eyes and make his cuts sting painfully. He makes the climb slowly, his hands and feet shaking with every pull, but after a couple of minutes he can finally feel the rough wooden deck under his feet once more.

Looking back down he can see the longboats pulling away, the men in the red coats barely visible in the light of the dim lanterns below. Somewhere in the darkness a boy wretches and whines as he empties his stomach over the railing, while some others weep and whine.

“Lis'n up, scum!”

A thunderous voice, rivalled only by the distant rumbling of the heavens, echoes across the deck. Silence falls over the young boys like a curtain, as glistening faces both pale and tan turn towards it's source. A flash of lightning illuminates the deck for a split second. It is enough to see shapes that might be more boys, huddled around the edges of the deck, to see a line of two dozen men, armed with nasty looking cudgels and knives, and the two dozen new arrivals, standing in a group, looking lost and confused.

“I'm cap'n Smith, an' I run this shithole! You, scum, have two options: do as you're told ‘n be quiet, or sleep with th' fishes! Welcome, scum, to the HMS Conviction!”

It sounded like he had hatefully spat out the last few words, and the finality of them was like the sound of the death knell in the air. The guards and their cudgels went to work immediately, herding the boys below decks and knocking down the older ones who tried to resist or showed any attitude other than obedience.

“Come ‘ere!”

The young boy with the blonde hair was yanked to the side by a guard, then shoved down to his knees. A minute passed in silence, before he had the courage to open his eyes. The other boys and the guards had stepped inside, save for the one guard who still remained. The boy looked up, but in the darkness and the rain all he could make out was the thick full beard on his face.

“What yer name, boy?” -the guard asked in a gruff voice.

“Sam.” -the boy replied “Why are y-”

“How old are you?” -the guard asked, interrupting the boy's question.

“Thirteen.”

“Your mother from London?”

“Yes.”

Why was he asking all these questions. All the other boys had gone below.

“Name!” -the booming voice caused the boy to jump.

“M-My mother's name was Maryanne. She lived in Jane Street, north of the river.”

“Is she alive?”

The boy paused for a moment. The question was odd and it gave him pause, but he replied nonetheless: “No. She drowned when I was ten. Three summers ago.”

The backhand blow came sudden and unexpected, sending the boy reeling.

“You lie!” -the guard hissed between gritted teeth.

The young boy, confused and afraid, looked up at the man now towering above him in the storm-wrought deck.

“Tell me, Sam, why did they send you here. What did you do?”

“I got caught stealing. I had to do it.” -poor Sam confessed, his voice shrill and desperate. “My uncle got hit by a horsecar and my father is in prison, so I was on the streets. I was alone. Please, sir, don't hit me. I...”

A hand with a grip like a vice grabbed the boy's slim neck and lifted him up so that only the tips of his toes touched the deck. A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, and for a split second the boy could see the face of the guard; the thick beard and moustache that covered his features, the thin wisps of hair that were now glued to his scalp, and the pale green eyes that swelled with tears.

The guard's voice was a faint whisper: “My son is no thief.”

A roar of thunder drowned out all sound for miles, and it seems that the world shook and trembled at God's wrath. As the light subsided and the world went dark once more, the guard stood at the railing of the HMS Captivity, alone. No-one could hear him as he screamed in rage.

Congrats Stupot+, and thanks for the votes everyone!
Looking forward to the next one, I have a writey feel right now.

[Best Character:]

Best Character: Stupot+
Best Atmosphere: Stupot+
Best Word Choice/Style: Stupot+, monkey424
Best Creativity in terms of Survival Tactics: kconan, Alberth
Most Efficient Story: Myinag, Dualnames, Durinde
Best Scenario: Durinde, monkey424, Alberth

[Frank White]

Story below. I hid it because it takes up a bunch of space due to formatting.
I present to you: the twitter feed of the dead!

Spoiler

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  5 December 2014
Flying to #Finland to meet with my buddies from the guild. I hear it's cold as hell up there, tho. #HelsinkiPolarBears #Justkidding

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  5 December 2014
At the airport now. @MikaAlamaja666 WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, MAN!?

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  5 December 2014
Not a single taxi in sight and the bus timetables are in finnish. #FML

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  5 December 2014
I'm so fucking lost

@frankwhite88z retweeted
Mika Alamaja @MikaAlamaja666 ·  5 December 2014
Fuck! Overslept and my buddy is stuck at the airport. WHERE ARE MY PANTS!? #FML

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  6 December 2014
Well past midnight, but @MikaAlamaja666 picked me up. At his place now. Goddammit Finland is cold in December. Like -15C! #Frozen

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  6 December 2014
That was probably not the right hashtag.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  6 December 2014
Apparently today is the Finnish independence day. Fireworks, celebration and booze for me, please.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  6 December 2014
im so drunk rite now FINALNDIA VODKA FTW!

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  6 December 2014
Thosse are awesome firewroks

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  6 December 2014
Those are not fireworks

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  6 December 2014
I just saw a police officer shoot a woman in the street! #WTF

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  6 December 2014
WHAAT THE FCUK!?

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  9 December 2014
Found a phone charger. Status report: Alive and alone. Freezing cold. Dead everywhere. Send help.

@frankwhite88z retweeted
Reuters @Reuters ·  9 December 2014
Europe and Asia swept by unknown disease, mistakenly identified as Ebola during first stages. Experts baffled as death toll rises.

@frankwhite88z retweeted
Reuters @Reuters ·  9 December 2014
European union declares continent-wide state of emergency, as top politicians evacuate to US via emergency airlift.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  9 December 2014
I tried to read some Finnish news, but can't understand a word. Seriously I need help.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  9 December 2014
Holed up in a shopping mall with some locals. None of them speak english. #FML

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  9 December 2014
We are stockpiling food. The skinny guy with the fur hat and camo clothes has a gun. I called him Sergei and he got really angry.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  9 December 2014
@Steve1991W Thanks for the info, I'll keep my racist remarks as my own from now on. Jesus.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  9 December 2014
@SammyD831 sent me some translated news. Apparently the cold weather slows down the walking dead. Lucky me.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
We carried off anything we could and moved to this house.Less dead here but we lost two people on the way.Just me and two others left

christian Johnston @Whamthemammoth  ·  10 December 2014
@frankwhite88z Stay at home moms makes around $5500 in one month work from home jobs. read it now at http://goo.gl/aHvoJ?cat

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
Big guy is building traps and the girl is organizing the food stocks. Neither speaks any english, believe me, I tried.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
We opened up the basement. Big guy now has a shotgun.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
Found an axe and some other tools in the shed outside. Can't see the dead but can hear them.

@frankwhite88z retweeted
Kevin Colby @Colby2157 ·  10 December 2014
The dead cannot freeze to death, so be wary of snow. Lost a friend to one that was sorta hiding in some ice.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
Helped the big guy barricade most of the windows on the bottom floor.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
Apparently the big guy is an electrician and is rigging up some sort of fence that's connected to the power line.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
SHIT! Big guy is dead! Fuck!

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
Yeah, he's not breathing and he smells burnt. Hell of a way to go.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  10 December 2014
Can't find the girl. Shit!

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  18 hours ago
Okay, I'm alone again, save for the big guy, who is walking around outside. Wish I had the gun.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  18 hours ago
NO! I am not retweeting your fucking forever alone -face! Fuck you!

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  18 hours ago
Holy shit the big guy just crashed through the back door he's in the kitchen now

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  18 hours ago
hiding in the basement now

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  17 hours ago
I AM THE FUCKING EINSTEIN!

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  17 hours ago
Okay, okay! The big guy was in the kitchen and covered in snow. The snow melted and pooled. 1/2

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  18 hours ago
2/2 I managed to trick him to walk over the basement trapdoor and caught him in a wire then passed the wire through teh fusebox.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  18 hours ago
3/3 He's fucking cooked! http://goo.gl/g44jFX #Purewin

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  18 hours ago
It has occurred to me that I might have blown every fuse in the house. No idea where to find more.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  16 hours ago
Just saw a helicopter fly overhead, I have an idea.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  15 hours ago
Googling how to make a signal flare, where the hell do I find potassium nitrate!?

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  15 hours ago
Seriously fucking cold now, need to make a fire.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  15 hours ago
EVERYTHING IS WET! There's snow pouring in through the broken windows. HALP!

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  14 hours ago
I have now set the sofa on fire. http://goo.gl/82C98O

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  13 hours ago
I'm outta here!

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  13 hours ago
Stole some clothes off a dead guy. Does that make me a grave robber?

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  12 hours ago
Another helicopter. It circled around the burning house for a bit but then took off. Didn't spot me.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  11 hours ago
Getting really fucking dark in here.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  9 hours ago
The fire is going out on it's own. I think I dozed off for a bit, been a hell of a day. Still no sign of the girl.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  7 hours ago
Winter night in Finland is LONG and DARK! I can barely see anything even with my phone's camera light on.

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  7 hours ago
Looks like the fire or the light or the chopper or something has lured the dead here. There's at least a hundred!

Frank White @frankwhite88z ·  7 hours ago
Low battery warning on the phone. #FML

Kevin Colby @Colby2157 ·  6 hours ago
#RIP @frankwhite88z

Conroy White @cwhiteyzzzxxxzzz ·  4 hours ago
@frankwhite88z Not funny man! Let us know you're ok!

[close]

Already writing.

https://www.joedolson.com/2006/08/on-the-readability-of-inverted-color-schemes/

Huh, very informative. Thanks!

You think about sending midsummer celebration invitations to neighboring towns, but recall
that the celebration is kingdom-wide; everyone will be there if they can!

You congratulate yourself on your half-a-year reign with another drink.

Bright green on black has always been my go-to colour scheme and I've always found it very readable and well-contrasted. Not many people agree for some reason... :/

Theme-wise, I was going to go with B or D, but since the project idea I now have requires a LOT of reading, it looks like I'll be working off of concept A from here, as it seems that almost everyone finds it most comfortable to view.

Thanks for the feedback everyone!

Here is a link to a gallery with 4 colour schemes (A, B, C and D), please rank them to your order of preference (focus on readability, ie: which one you feel would be the most comfortable to read text off of).

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/8ljvaur6h0lk3yf/AAC6roVfCVMCEhhmlyaJdc_Va?dl=0#/

Cheers in advance!

You stand up, raise your goblet and say a few generous words of praise of the village and it's
people as well as the innkeeper and his inn. Your words are met with more cheers and it seems
that the crowd that has gathered is more than happy to have their King around.

The day turns to evening, people get drunk and song and dance are commonplace.
As you listen to the talk of the commoners you realize the reason for their merriment:
the preparations are done and tomorrow is the day of the MIDSUMMER CELEBRATION!

No work for an entire day!? You have a drink to that!

Looking at the place makes you think it would make for a good base of operations for your spies,
and perhaps Lancelot might approve if your spy network was not wholly reliant on the ladies of the
Happy Hands Brothel. With your guardian knights in tow you enter the Inn. As you step through the
door the music and chatter inside pauses and silence falls over the main hall for a split second.
You estimate roughtly a hundred patrons are gathered in the main hall, with drinks in hand and
plates in front of them. Over the massive stone fireplace a pig is slowly roasting, the crackling
of skin and fat clearly audible in the moment of silence.

"All hail the King!" the Innkeeper calls, raising a tankard of ale.
"The King! The king! The King!" -the patrons cheer. Laughter and talk wash over you and the music,
provided by a pair of fiddlers, starts anew.

The two knights accompanying you give one another a smile and click their swords back into their
scabbards, from which they had been loosened as the silence fell.

General merriment encircles you, as the common men and women cheer and sing and dance around you.
Food is served for half-price at the innkeepers behest, and soon more people flood in to witness
the King in person. Toast after toast is raised in your honor and you feel the people are in good
spirits all around.

You try approaching the Innkeeper on a matter of renting a room permanently, but he gestures for
patience.
"We shall talk later, my King. When it is more quiet. Join us in a toast, this is a good day!"
-he urges you, offering you a fine silver goblet, then filling it and several others like it from
a wineskin. The other goblets are offered to a few noble traders who happen to be in attendance,
as well as your knights.

"A toast! The King's toast!" -the Innkeeper calls out, and the people respond with roaring laughter
and cheers.

Hells, it's been over a month!? I haven't had any time to write stuff lately, haven't even really visited the forums much due to "real life stuff".
Who knew that a 4 week summer vacation might be far busier time than regular work weeks. Still have some pretty hectic stuff coming up in the next week or so, but then I hope things will start to clear up a bit, so:



You decide that it is finally time you took a measure of your new kingdom and what better way to
do it than to visit this innkeeper's establishment to seal the deal he has offered. Besides: a King
should not need fear his people! You call on two of your household knights to travel with you,
though, just in case.

Within the hour you, the two knights and the visibly relieved innkeeper depart the castle on
horseback, heading east through the town.

As you ride through the castle town you catch glimpses of your people and their lives. Just
outside the castle gates is the market square. Freshly baked goods, fish from the river and all
kinds of crafts and other wares are sold here, and trade seems to take place at a good pace,
though the market is not quite crowded. Nearly all people turn and bow their heads as they see
you approaching. You sense that you are well liked among your people, and why wouldn't you be,
you've done well by them. You catch a glimpse of two of Lancelot's knights patrolling the market,
though they soon disappear amidst the people.

As you leave the market you ride past houses of red brick and wood, some of them leaning slightly
on one another and clearly in need of some repair. A few buildings are burned down, a grim
reminder of the past king's deeds in the town, though you are glad to see that the makeshift
gallows of his late reign have been torn down.

Finally you reach the town wall: a simple wooden palisade with a few raised platforms build behind
it for archers to climb upon. A number of Robina's rangers patrol the wall, standing tall atop
the platforms and peering into the distance for any signs of danger or unrest. Two more of
Lancelot's knights are stationed at the wooden gate, which is open. Your group passes through
without incident and your ride to the inn begins along the EASTROAD.

After a short ride you arrive in a small village to the east of the castle town, and within the
village you find the innkeeper's inn. As you dismount a stableboy takes care of your horses,
leading them into the stable.

"My King, I shall go at once and ensure your room is tended and a table is prepared for you
and your knights. And a warm welcome to you all to the King's Grace Inn!"

As the Innkeeper hurries inside you can see that a new sign resembling a crown has already
been installed on the wall of the inn. You wonder what the innkeeper would have done with it
had you decided not to visit...

The Inn is a fairly large one, and clearly the only one in this small village.
It is a three-storey affair, built of wood on a visible and firm-looking base of red brick and
mortar. Numerous windows give the structure an airy look, and you can see a number of old banners
hanging from the outside walls, likely left here by previous visitors. You can hear music and song
from within.

You demand that the innkeeper part with his knowledge at once and inform the man that you will
consider visiting his establishment if the information is any good.

"M-My King, a fair deal is a fair deal!" -the man stutters, distressed.
"I-I do not ask for much, just a small boon. If people find out that I told anyone what I know
my business would be in RUINS! But if a King would visit my inn, it would easily negate the
whole matter. Everybody wins."

He does not seem willing to part with his information without something more solid.