Jon's Junkyard Thursday (19 Sep 2001) Agatha ventures into Jon's Junkyard on a quest.

Jon's Junkyard
This collection of junk -- far too massive to have come solely from Ainigton alone -- is walled in, inside a roughly L-shaped enclosure, secured by walls of salvaged corrugated tin sheets nailed to wooden frames, with a rusty gate sealing off the front. Jon's house/office resides in the clearing in the quadrant hemmed in by the "L", and a tool shed and some trees are in the space between it and the outer wall. The whole area is hemmed in by trees, protecting travelers from seeing much of the eyesore from the nearby road. A sign by the gate reads "Beware of Dog". Jon's office sign reads "Jon's Salvage".

Thanks to the overcast sky today, it's just cool enough that Agatha can get away with wearing her denim jacket. Along with her work shoes and grass-stained jeans, she feels fairly well protected against the inevitable pointy bits, grease and rust likely to be encountered in the junkyard. Holding her gloves in one hand, she raps on the door to the office with the other. "Hello? Anyone home?"

There's a sound of tools being dropped, and then footsteps. The door creeps open. A large man with close-cropped blond hair looks out the door, at a spot above Agatha's head ... then looks down at her. "Eh? No, I don't want any scout cookies."

Smiling, Agatha says, "I'm not selling any, actually. I was wondering if I could collect some scrap iron for a crafts project? I'm going to learn how to make horse-shoes."

"Hey, kid, I'm not in the business of just giving away scrap iron," Jon says. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have much of a business, huh?" He regards Agatha a moment, then says, "Eh, how much scrap are you needing?"

"A few pounds, maybe ... twenty or thirty?" Agatha guesses. "How much do you charge for iron scrap?"

"Depends on what kind," Jon says. "I generally pay for scrap by the pound. What I sell it for depends on what it is, and the condition. For instance, spare parts for cars: fenders, engine casings, that sort of thing."

"Tell you what ... I'll let you poke around, and you find what you think is scrap," he says, "and then I'll put a price on it. But you can't go back all that far. My dogs are out back, and they don't cotton to strangers, and I don't cotton to having your parents come over and holler at me if you get yourself bitten or scraped or what-have-you."

"I know how to keep safe," Agatha assures the man, putting on her gloves. "I've been working on the renovation of old Harcourt Manor, and my dad's a mechanic."

"Eh, right," Jon says, grumbling. "Anyway, let's keep this short." He looks at the sky. "I don't like the looks of these clouds."

Looking towards the gate leading into the yard, Agatha says, "Okay. Is the scrap mixed, or separated?"

Jon sighs. "Mixed and separated. Look, I don't want to have to give a kid a tour of the place. I'm busy." With that, he steps out on the front porch, and closes the door behind him, fumbling through a weighty bundle of keys he pulls out of a pocket, until he finds the right one, and then he locks a bolt on the door. "C'mon," he says, and starts striding toward the front gate.

Agatha follows along, wondering why there would be so many keys for a junkyard. "Right behind you, sir."

Jon leads the way off the porch, down through a slight depression, across the dirt path leading back to the tool shed, then back up to the front of the junkyard, where he then proceeds to fumble around with his keys some more and unlock several padlocks on the front gate. One should be more than enough to hold the gate closed, but it appears he has a surplus, and uses them. At last, he has the locks undone. The gate doesn't swing open, but rather consists of two sections of metal wire fencing on pole frameworks on wheels, which slide to one side and the other with a considerable amount of screeching.

"Thanks, sir. I'll try to be quick," Agatha promises, and hurries through the opening.

A peal of thunder echoes in the distance. Not close by, at least, but it's still a bad sign for the weather. Jon, distracted, looks up and away in the general direction it must have come from.

I wonder if this place gets struck by lightning often?, Agatha thinks as she looks around the first section of the yard. There's a big central pile, and plenty more refuse surrounding, and she can make out another large pile beyond it. "Circular paths; welcome to the Siege of Metal," she says quietly with a grin, and starts to make her way around the central pile, keeping an eye out for rods, pipes and old rebars that might be made of iron. I'm past the Troll, at least.

Just inside, Agatha is greeted with a marvelous mound of ... junk. The nose of some large airplane pokes out from the center heap, along with the remains of a silvery wing sticking out to one side. Under the shadow of the wing is an old car, its tires long gone, its axles up on blocks. Discarded appliances, boxes of crushed cans, and other sources of scrap metal or odds and ends can be seen stacked or simply piled in only occasionally anything resembling order.

Court of the Dark Castle
Just within the ruins of the ancient fortress, a collapsed outbuilding stands within the front portcullis, testament to whatever battle led to this castle's fall ages ago. Bones and the remains of ancient warriors can still be found amidst the rubble -- helms, breastplates, swords, most of them rusted to the point of being almost beyond recognition. The front of the out building yawns menacingly, hinting at what horrors might hide within. And beyond that, the howls can be heard of the horrid beast, Cerberus, that lurks within the tower of Cerberus Keep.

Drawing her sword from its hiding place beneath her armor, Redmane stalks forward carefully. She's certain the Golden Arrow is near the lair of Cerberus, and the remains of previous armored visitors all around her attest to the danger. She keeps her eye out for an unbroken lance or shield that she might be able to use as she creeps towards the Keep.

Aha! A suitable shield bearing the coat of arms of some doomed knight of old peeks out from under the decayed wing of a giant war-bird corpse keeping lifeless vigil over the waste. Nearby, a discarded spear -- rusty but serviceable -- pokes out from the rocks.

Redmane attempts to pry the weapon and shield loose without drawing the attention of the Beast. Sheathing her sword, she decides to lead with the lance.

The sky bursts open, letting down torrents of rain. At this, the troll that Redmane had tricked back at the portcullis lets out a howl of anguish! As everyone knows, Earth Trolls cannot stand water, for they will melt away if exposed to them and deprived of the filth that covers their bodies! The wretched troll, not wishing to succumb to such a fate, flees to its cave.

Hoping the rain will cover some of her own sounds, Redmane hurries to a spot where she can spy on Keep, and hopefully see if its guardian is alert or not.

A howl from the direction of Cerberus Keep indicates that the beast is indeed awake and about.

In the distance, Knight Redmane hears a crash of falling debris, and then the barks and howls of Cerberus, agitated by the noise!

Thanks perhaps in part to this distraction, the knight is able to find herself a place to spy upon the twisted, three-pronged tower of Cerberus Keep. The three-headed dog leaps out from its lair at the base, rushing toward the distant sound of crashing debris!

The Explorer must be providing a distraction! Redmane thinks, and abandons her vantage point to try and rush the tower, hoping that she can climb high enough to be beyond the grasp of the beast. The Arrow should be on the tower somewhere.

The Beast appears to be distracted, indeed, by something in the other wing of the court, as it sniffs simultaneously at the air and at the ground with two heads, and barking with the third. While it is looking the other way, she manages to cover the distance between her vantage point and the base of the Keep!

Redmane looks up along the walls of the Keep, trying to catch any flash of gold as she quickly tries to circle it -- in the direction that puts it between her and Cerberus, just in case.

The beast turns about, one of its three heads focusing on Redmane ... and then ... there comes a clatter -- a thrown stone, knocking down a pile of rubble!

The Knight freezes, hoping the beast will go after the rubble instead.

Just then, the beast's two other heads start barking, and the collective beast goes running off toward the collapsing debris! The way is clear!

And ... Redmane sees, just to one side of the entrance to the Keep ... a glimpse of gold!

Releasing her held breath, the Knight dashes forward towards the hint of gold, hoping it's not just some bit of hoarded treasure, but the arrow she seeks.

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This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.