The Dan

Graduate
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    93
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About The Dan

  • Rank
    Young Traveller
  • Birthday 02/11/1991

Profile Information

  • Custom Title
    Lindsay's Punching Bag
  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Florida, USA
  • Occupation
    Olympic-Tier Crotch Masseuse
  • Interests
    Women

Role Play Details

  • Favorite RP Genre
    Fantasy, Supernatural, Immature
  • Role Playing Style
    Long posts with too many words.

Contact Methods

  • Skype
    fathermudkip
  • Website URL
    http://www.zombo.com/
  1. ...and it made me frown

    HAELLO MYGRAINE
  2. Halloween

    FRIEDAE NAIGHT MAGJICK - GONNA DRESS UP AS A REAL MAGICIAN
  3. Celebration Thread

    SUNDAY WORK I HAVE WORK I HAVE THE JOB WOO
  4. yo

    father mudkip standing by
  5. Triumphant Return

    what an exciting day for returns
  6. Hi, me llamo Phreshaer.

    phresh i like fajitas so we'll get along
  7. Hi Nervous I'm Dad

    hi i'm dan i like knives but contrary to abovestated, i don't usually love to befriend sixteen year olds, they kind of just follow me around most of the time i also know about the lights above the arby's
  8. Starry Sean Protest

    curious as to what my name is on brianna's list. like this post if you agree.
  9. Starry Sean Protest

    voted sean five stars. this is tragic. my prayers are with him and his family.
  10. You are a BUTTFACE.

  11. CLOSED The Firstborn of Lancaster

    I lamented my choice to come to the continent of Estrines, home to the Lancasters and their grand castle. I lamented that I had named Myr, and that I had named Myr after a dragon I had once been close to. I wanted to be gone from this place, but I now owned a dragon, and that meant I was responsible for that dragon. I was also responsible for my duties, though I did not look forward to fulfilling them. The "Firstborn of Lancaster", I had learned, had technically died some two decades ago, though the unborn child had not been named. In Thera, where a man's word held power, words and names were used carefully. In the days of Thera's founding, only the truest of blood could be allowed to take a royal throne, but when the truest of blood was no longer available, the people found sanctum in their elected officials and established nobility through the power of the commoners' respect. It was said, in Thera, that influence could be bought, and nobilty could be obtained, but respect must be earned. In Castle Lancaster, I had obtained the title of Lord, and wondered if it was always so easy to obtain nobility through nefarious promises. Regardless, the Firstborn of Lancaster had earned the respect that can only be earned by surviving to the age of ten. John, of Hunter's Corner, had earned the name John Sure-Shot before that age, and adopted it as his man's name. His Royal Highness, Stephen Augustus Lancaster IV, Prince of Estrines, had a much better name, so I thought. But, I also thought, the two boys would have enjoyed playing at jacks together, had things been different for my life. I hated royals, fiercely, as I bowed to them stiffly from the back of the court. Their glances were vicious. I was patient, and the horse I le was well-trained, even despite its youth. It was a beautiful thing, and would someday be a strong stallion. I thought it matched its owner well, in that aspect. The boy prince, who I was tasked to kill, barely glanced at my face, in his joy of seeing his gift horse. I did not hold this against him at all, and in fact, I smiled in unrepressed amusement when he ran towards to touch and pet the colt. The noblemen muttered, and I caught myself quickly, bowing, again stiffly, for the highborn boy. I had presented my gift, and fulfilled today's small task. I had taken the measure of Prince Stephen. I had decided, then, that I did not wish to kill him. Perhaps I would capture him, or hold him ransom. Perhaps, then, no man would be able to speak ill of my word, nor my success. For a dragon-rider to assassinate is not unheard of, but it is disgraceful to all dragon-riders. We are warriors of the sky, and proud masters of the proudest animals on the planet. We enslaved lizard and human alike, and controlled them. To an army, there is little more terrifying than a guild of riders darkening the sky; to a tavern wench, there are few men more interesting. Perhaps we were not the noble knights of castles, nor the fierce peasant barbarians who were paid in levy during wartimes. Perhaps we were not the sly snipers or rogues of the grand cities, but when farmers have nightmares of their daughters being seized by men, they dream of wyverns, and the cruel men on their backs. I was certain I would not be paid the large sum of gold promised me, if I took the route of capturing the boy. However, I soon began to realize that the games of these nobles went rather deep around me. My bones told me to be gone from this place, and not to return. I grew more certain as the days passed that, even if I should manage my secret job, I would find knives, and not gold, even if I sought ought Master Arin. It was in my duty to care for the horses, and I slept mainly in the small hut near the stables. It was comfortable and pleasant, but small, and the stench of horse-dung prevented me from sleeping the first night. Baena complained of the smell when I went back to her, saying I smelled of horse, and not man. She did not complain overmuch, but she did ask many questions about my plans for the princeling. I told her the castle was very secure, and that I had much thinking to do. I did not go to see her after that. I did see Myr every day, after the afternoon overseeing of the pages. It was my task to teach them about the various weapons and their uses on horseback. Pages, to my eye, are slaves for knights, even though they are boys. I wondered how many of my students would be sacrificed, should Lancaster ever decide to bring them to war. I did ask any of their names, but they asked many questions of me. I told them as little as I could, and was glad that they seemed intimidated by my short gruffness. However, they seemed to admire me, and when one of them followed me and discovered that I took care of a dragon just outside the castle, I realized that I had earned many more followers. At first, I was paranoid of them, thinking they were spies sent by their masters. But it became clear to me soon that they were just boys, young soldiers, who were amazed by the way I dealt with Myr. It was not long before I had to explain to one of them, a sandy-haired freckly lad, the oldest and bravest of the teenagers, that to try to sit on the horse would almost certainly be the last thing he would ever do. Indeed, during these first few days, Myr himself seemed agitated by all the attention, and required much firm treatment. But I was patient, and I was fond of the creature, for he always held himself proudly, and almost seemed to enjoy showing off. One day, I ran him through standard diving routines, and at the apex of one of the tight curves, he released a wild roar, the roar of an alpha male over a land. To me, this was extremely significant. It meant he was comfortable with me on his back, and would be willing to eat with me. To the boys below, it was a magnificent display of power. I was not unaware, thereafter, that I had other followers. Waifs from the kitchen, no doubt tracking my movements and relaying them to spies who paid them. Older girls, from the brothels, sometimes followed me as near as the castle gate itself, only to give me a flower or beg for my patronage. I was certain that at least half of those girls were being paid to do so. For the rest, I understood that I was a dragon-rider from Thera, the new Lord of Horse, the upjumped stableman. I was an exotic novelty. I hoped that the attention on me would dwindle before the month was over. On the days when it was necessary for me to be in the castle, I bathed carefully, and even purchased flower-and-spice oils similar to those that I had smelled in the castle before. Myr would not let me near him for the whole day when I had to wear them, so I only entered the castle when it was absolutely necessary. Twice a week I gave lessons to Prince Stephen, who I found a studious and avid learner. He was very interested in horses, but he seemed intimidated by me. I made certain to give him no reason to fear me, and focused mainly on the lessons. In truth, I was no master of horselore, but I had been a cavalry archer before I was a dragon-rider, and I knew plenty by experience. I taught him the basics that any lordling should know: the different breeds and types of horse, and what they were fore, the strengths and weaknesses of male and female, ideal diet within the area, and so on. I knew he would be expected to hunt, and under the guidance of Master Arin, showed him the hunting bow. In the archer's field we shot arrows for two hours. Him going as far as to applaud when I first showed him the proper technique. It would be many years before he could hit a bulls-eye on every shot, but he showed promise. He spoke often of knightly tales, and seemed to be attached to a story about an archer who had saved his sister. "I want to shoot like Able David!" he had said, in dismay, when his first arrow fell short of the target. "That is not the way of things," said Master Arin. Able David was a myth among commoners, a boy archer whose prowess with the bow had earned him much respect in his army. According to the story, he would challenge the general of opposing armies to a match, and impress them with his skills, thereby being able to find compromises with enemy groups. Able David was the hero of John of Hunter's Corner. "It is important for you to learn to hunt, but you are not a commoner boy. You must be able to face an army in the field, rather than try to wheedle out of it, like a coward." "Master Arin is wise," I said, patiently. "He is a great swordsmaster. Your Highness must remember that a swordsman fights with honor, and honor is the measure of a man. The bow may kill a beast at fifty yards, and give you food to feed a family for a week. A sword can protect your honor." I adjusted his shooting posture as I spoke, and directed the angle of his pull. I gently stepped back, and when he released the string, the arrow his the blue ring around the bullseye. "Your Highness shoots well!" "Your Highness shoots well," echoed Master Arin, applauding gently. The princeling beamed at him, and lined up another shot. I was very aware of Master Arin's hand on his hilt for the session. I was very careful not to make any sudden movements. Prince Stephen talked as he shot, babbling about his colt, babbling about the stories his older sister had told him about Able David, sometimes asking questions about the bow. He was a young boy, but a good talker, and he asked complicated questions. Master Arin answered whenever possible, and I answered when he hesitated. It was clear that he was a swordsman, not an archer. I explained about the different sorts of feathering, and arrowheads, and the different types of bows. I told him that when he was old enough to shoot on horseback, he may like to learn the shortbow. When he expressed an interest in the greatbow, Master Arin laughed that the greatbow was a weapon for peasants. "I would like to try one someday," persisted the boy. "It takes a lot of strength to pull a greatbow," I said. "Indeed," said Master Arin, "it requires a commoner's strength. Even I am not able to do so." I turned to Master Arin, who had spoken too much. I wondered if he knew how I judged him. He did not look me in the eyes. I smiled. "Perhaps when Your Highness is a full man, with broad shoulders to swing a greatsword well, I will teach you the subtleties of the greatbow," I promised the persistant prince. He knew this was not the way of things, but I think that only made the prospect more exciting to him. Indeed, he giggled. I felt rather than saw Master Arin's sharp look, stepping forward again to adjust the prince's angle. On the next shot, his arrow pierced the bullseye, just to the left of my own shot. We both applauded him. Master Arin cornered me after the lesson. "How goes your preparations concerning the assassination?" he said, frankly. It was only then that I realized how alone we were, in the archer's field. Perhaps wisely, it had been reserved for the prince's use this evening. Master Arin smelled of sweat. He stood squarely in my path, and had drawn his sword more than an inch. I was unarmed, and looked askance at the bared steel. "You have my word that I will take the firstborn, at the end of this week, in the morning," I said quietly. I had given my word. He seemed satisfied. "I have much to think about yet," I explained, and did not look back as I walked past him. When I returned to the room, there was a greatbow sitting on my thin mattress, with a single sniper's arrow beside it. I knew who the arrow was intended for. I hid the weapons under my bed, where a Theran sword and buckler waited. The shield proudly bore the sigil of the guild of which I was a member: The Dragon-riders Without State, a guild which rarely protected outlaws and tended to only claim patronage to the just. Wearing the thick one-handed saber made me feel safer around pirates and cut-throats, and wearing the shield made me feel safer around the captains and merchants of the sea. It was perhaps thanks to them that I had had no trouble getting to Estrines by boat. I had also bought a short-bow and a matching quiver, which held about two dozen arrows. I slid the thin, silver arrow in amongst them, displeased by the way it stood out. It was taller, thinner and more expensive than my other arrows, which were broadly-angled and heavy cavalry arrows. These were meant to puncture the thick plate armor of a knight, but would likely not leave a fatal wound. The sniper's arrow had fine, sharp razors embedded down its length, which would help it fly true, and tear a vicious hole in any unarmored target. I wondered if I would ever use that arrow. I imagined it punching through the body of the child it was intended for. My stomach lurched. I lamented my decision to come to Estrines. * * * * * * * * It was halfway through this week that I came to understand the way things were. The prince would be seeing off his sister's retinue, as she was of age to be sent off as, essentially, a hostage of courts. Perhaps it would be later agreed that she would be married to the prince of the castle she would now live in. Perhaps she would be married to a lesser lord of the nearby lands. Perhaps she would return home in a month. Perhaps she would be lost to bandits on the road. It was a game of kings and queens, of females. The prince and his mother would be seeing off his aunt's retinue, as her visitation celebrating the Prince's nameday had come to an end. They would be taking with them Princess Ophelia, His Highness's older sister, and it would be a proper royal affair. During the pomp of the Royal Family's leave of the castle, excepting of course the King himself, the front of the castle would be on high guard. There would be a great number of knights and spearmen, with noblemen wearing their little swords, applauding their own attendance of the meaningless affair. The archers would be manning the walls around the castle, leaving the front of the keep, itself, devoid. Nobody would expect someone within the castle to shoot at the back of the royal family. The ballistae atop the keep towers, of course, would be well-active, with crossbowmen at the ready. Should they become under attack, it was the job of those men to raise the cry, and protect the Royal Family with supporting fire until they had retreated into the safety of the Keep. I would be able to make an easy shot with the sniper's arrow from one of the Keep's many arrow slits, intended for the defense of the castle. I would be able to blend in with the noblemen bustling about during the madness of it all, discarding the bow anywhere to maintain my innocence. I would be able to escape suspicion during the hustle, as very few within the castle would have assumed that the Lord of Horses would be a master of the greatbow. Indeed, even those who believed the gossip that I was John the dragon-rider, Master of Myr, knew that such a man was skilled with the bow. I would escape suspicion, receive what was due to me, and that would be the end of that. That would be the way of things. During one of my walks of the towers, I came unexpectedly across the High Steward, Lord Albelin. He greeted me dryly, and I bowed my head. "How are the horses?" asked he. "They are as well as can be expected, my Lord." "What brings you to the North Tower?" I shrugged. "On clear nights like this, I like to sit quietly beneath the stars," I recited. This was not the first time I had been questioned. "In the town below, there are lights of candle fire, and noise of content folk. At the top of these towers, there are only quiet archers, and the moon and stars above." "I see," he said furtively. "It would do you well to stay away from the ballista tonight. It is undergoing routine maintenance." I shrugged again. I knew that that was a lie; I had done a bit of work on the ballista with my belt knife, the past three nights. I was grateful that I did not wear it openly. "That is unfortunate. I suppose I will return to the stables." This time, the smaller man shrugged. He did it with the hint of a smile. "The South Tower is understaffed tonight. Perhaps you would find it accomodating. I bid you good-night." I bowed, and made my way to the South Tower. I was sweating. Did he suspect me? Was he aware I had done it? I frayed one of the ropes with my knife, such that it would snap upon being pulled, rendering the ballista useless for at least five minutes. This was necessary to my plot. I had already done the same in the South Tower, last week. It was fortunate for me that Castle Lancaster was infrequently under attack by dragons. In the South Tower, I played my part, watching the skies for at least an hour, and having minimal discussion with the soldier on duty. He asked me badly-veiled questions about archery, and I answered noncommittally. He was whittling a branch into a rod to be used as an arrow, and frequently complained of a dull knife. He asked me, more than once, if I had a knife on my person that he could borrow. I was certain that to admit I was carrying the knife would result in my capture, so I explained that a stableman did not have much need of knives, and a man with a beard certainly had no need for a razor-sharp one. The man was not able to extract any damning confessions from me, but I learned a good many things. For one, nobody seemed to notice the pebbles that I had wedged in the mechanisms of the southern ballista, behind the guards' backs. They only seemed aware of the knife-frayed ropes. This was good news for me. For two, the northern ballista, which I could barely see, had been completely dissassembled. It would be in perfect working order, come the end of the week. This was bad news for me. Third, because my mind was flying in a wild panic, I had noticed what I had missed before. Lancaster was so far from the forest mountains of the northeast, and the drakes that preferred such ranges, that dragons infrequently appeared in the castle at all, let alone feral ones attacking it. These soldiers were not well-versed in combat against dragons. I realized, then, the significance of Myr's alpha roar. Here, we were the hunters. I smiled on the way back to my hut. I knew the true the way of things.
  12. I know who you are.