Day the Second and Twentieth of the Ninth Moon, Two Thousand Ten and Eight
At last freed from imprisonment at the top of his lonely spire, Lord Urban of Meyer, Protector of Ohio, rejoined with his bannermen, taking up again his sword--Shelley the Goblin Cleaver, named for his beloved Lady--and remembering the weight and heft of the blade that had been the bane and death of a thousand goblins of Michigan. At a banquet with his true brothers in arms, Lord Urban of Meyer did anoint his generals and advisors, bestowing on them the honors befitting the conquering heroes of elder times: Lord Lawrence of the Firm Handshake, Master of Spies Greggorio Schianus, Lord Kevin of Wilsonchestershire, Lord Bill the Oft-Malign'd, Lord Hartlion of the Crisp Routes, Alex Grinch (who was far too new and callow to have received a lordship or proper-sounding name as of yet), and of course, chieftest of all, Lord Ryan of Day, who Lord Urban likened to a son (for like any good son, Lord Ryan of Day was little amused at Lord Urban's fatherly japes and banter). Also in attendance, the many valiant knights who'd fought in the absence of their Liege Lord to keep the walls of Columbus safe and mostly clean of Beaverman blood.
However there was little time for merriment. In the midst of the great banquet, a messenger threw open the doors of the great hall, shrieked in a most unmanly way, ran three times around the banquet table, devoured a small roast pheasant, quaffed a tankard of mead, shrieked again, then proceeded to warn the assembled lords and knights of an approaching host to the south, before finally collapsing onto his face and succumbing to the many arrows that had most unattractively studded his backside.
Immediately Lord Urban of Meyer and his bannermen stood from their banquet and hurried to arm themselves. Such was the discipline ingrain'd into every knight and man-at-arms in Columbus that a full battle host was ready and assembled by the next toll of the bells. A host of colorful brigands had come to menace Columbus: the dread bandits of Tulanus. Famed for their ferocity in battle, their legendary debauchery, and the colored glass beads they wore around their necks, the men of Tulanus marched under a green banner and demanded tribute from Columbus.
Eager to ride once more, Lord Urban of Meyer saddled his horse and commanded his soldiers from the front, with Lord Ryan of Day at his side. When the two hosts met, the great knight Sir Haskins cut a swath through his outmatched foe, hacking down no less than five captains of the host from Tulanus. In truth there was little in the way of a battle between the knights of Columbus and their brigand foes. So quickly and so utterly did the bandits collapse that Lord Urban dismissed his finest knights, allowing them to return to their feasting and merriment, and sent in their place the squires, under the lead of young Sir Martell.
But a perfidious surprise awaited the callow squires. Even as the bandits fell away and turned tail, a new menace emerged, one for which Sir Martell and his squires were no match: the strip'd devils of the Southern Marshes, fiends that the men of Tulanus knew as Raepherees. Dressed in the strip'd pelts of great cats, these warlocks of Tulanus hurled most terrible spells upon the squires: the yellow sign. Flung back, sometimes by as many as five-and-ten cubits (though also by increments of ten or five), the squires lost any semblance of valor.
It is said that from his distant sanctum, the Arch-Mage Tresselius did shake his head and quietly mumble a harsh oath, so disturbed was he by the appearance of the dreaded yellow sign. But even such foul magic could not win the day for the bandits of Tulanus, and spurred on in equal measure by his desire to impress his fellow knights and his desire to return to feasting, Sir Martell did at length rally his stricken squires, driving back the dark spells of the Raepherees and the brigands who'd called them forth from the pit.
The day won once more, Lord Urban summoned his men back to the keep to complete their banquet. They would need their merriment now, for a great challenge would soon emerge: a crusade against the terrible, blasphemous Catmen of Mount Nittano.
