Huh, my mistake. Well thats gonna be an unpleasant surprise for a number of people. Also, do Gwen and Agra know about the others relationship with arthur?
A Light in the Dark: A King Arthur/Warhammer 40k Imperial Knights Story
- Thread starter MysticKnightJoe
- Start date
- Crossover Fantasy
- Location
- Dethklok
Have we already had that explanation? Or you're keeping it for the future?
GilliamYaeger
M'crazy.
From last chapter, seems he's hunting Damsels who directly serve the Lady of the Lake.
- Location
- Dethklok
thank you. It seems it's going to make life even harder for Arthur then
Womenslayers
MysticKnightJoe
Defender of Holy Terra
- Location
- Fighting the Forces of Evil Across the Cosmos
King Arthur looked older and grimmer sitting across from him. Wearing nothing but a robe and a sword, he somehow radiated a sense of intense dignity. The woman behind him, who Balin only vaguely recognized, was wearing even less, just a cloak to cover her, yet even despite that, and the fact he was certain the King had been about to do something with her on the table before they had interrupted, she seemed to radiate a seriousness as she stood behind Arthur, papers in hand.
"Womanslayer," Balin sighed, "in truth I am amazed that it stuck. Only killed two."
"Generally, even murdering one woman is enough to give a knight an ill reputation," King Arthur's lady said dryly.
"Oh an ill reputation I understand and deserve. I am a Freeblade and criminal, after all. My honor is well and truly tarnished and very much for sale. As a Freeblade, I've met plenty of men who have killed women and worse. I suppose the women I killed were simply worth more."
"All crimes committed by such knights will be investigated and treated with absolute seriousness," King Arthur said firmly. "But we are at present not talking about them, we are talking about you, a man I am considering taking on an important quest. If that is to be, I need to know the source of your blood feud, and if you will murder more allies of the loyal cause."
Balin took a deep breath, and decided at that moment to tell something that was close to the truth. "My father, as I believe I have mentioned before, fell to the worship of Chaos. I killed him myself, when our house finally came to its end." He scowled with the memory. His father hadn't been the only one to die that night. Balan had fallen as well, and so had she. "My mother died that day as well."
"Don't see what this has to do with the Lady's damsels," Cei cut in suddenly, "sounds to me like you should be hunting Chaos."
"I have to agree, from what you've said, it seems like they are the villains in this tale, as they are in most," Arthur added.
"They are the enemy of all, but it escalated to the point because of the damsels." Balin clenched his fist. "Their Lady sent one of hers to investigate the lord. She knew the man was falling to Chaos, but she wanted to confirm it, then use him as a source of information on the enemy. To that end, she had a woman loyal to her marry the fallen lord." Balin gripped the rest of his chair tightly, his knuckles going pale. "That woman was my mother. She went into a marriage with a man going insane with worship of the dread gods out of loyalty to this world, a belief that what she was doing mattered. But she was abandoned. They had no plan to get her out, they just left her to suffer and die."
"Did she understand the mission?" the lady clerk asked, after a moment of broken quiet.
Balin glared up at her, and tried to measure her stance. Was she, perhaps, a damsel herself? It would make sense, for a lover of a King, one allowed to stay near and add to important conversations like this. The woman stared back, fearlessly and frankly, and Balin decided she wasn't. She didn't have even a glimmer of that fear of death, that even the most well-trained had in the face of a warrior blood-sworn. "It doesn't matter if she knew or not, my mother shouldn't have been in that situation."
"And this came from the top?" Arthur asked.
"I've been killing the damsels who were directly involved in the operation," Balin replied, stiffly.
"And who was at the center of the operation?" the woman asked, her voice level.
"Lady Lile," Balin replied.
King Arthur put his chin in his hand, frowning. "I do not know a damsel by that name."
If his honor wasn't so well and truly tarnished, Balin would feel bad for what he said next. "She is dead."
"So your enemies are all dead?" Cei asked, hands on hips.
"Yes." The lie was bitter, but he knew his course. There could be no regrets.
Arthur leaned toward him. "You need to understand, I will allow no blood feuds under my reign. Matters will be settled through law. After, you will speak to Lady Nimue of the death of her subordinates, Lady Lile and the others. If you serve me well, honorably and loyally, I will speak on your behalf, and try to have no more bloodshed. But that may ultimately be Lady Nimue's decision, not mine."
"Thank you, your highness," Balin returned, "all I am good at is fighting, so I'll do that until the end." And there would be more bloodshed. Balin knew that well, down to his very marrow and soul.
Ector stared at Ulfius for a long moment, as if weighing on the question. Then he shook his head. "I don't know, all I know is Myrddin brought the boy to me. That's all."
"And you just took him in, out of the goodness of your heart?" Ulfius asked, immediately cursing himself for it. He was trying to look good before his old ally, not like a rank bastard.
Ector's smile tightened. "I took in a boy who had nothing. It was the least I could do, and hardly able to balance out the hell this world has become."
"Perhaps he is Myrddin's son," Ulfius mused, "would that be possible?"
Ector was no longer smiling. "I didn't ask."
"The wizard isn't human, after all."
"Arthur is human," Ector snarled.
"I wasn't implying that," Ulfius said quickly, "just that it makes his paternity impossible. Loyalists to the Imperium would never accept a non-human King, after all."
"What then are you implying, Ulfius?" Ector growled. "What does your little brain rattle about?"
"Surely you can see it too," Ulfius hissed, "there is a bit of King Uther in him, I think. It is buried though, there is something else I can recognize."
Ector turned away. "I know where you are going with this, Ulfius. Whatever the truth is, it exists as it is, not as a way for you to assuage your guilt. King Arthur is my foster son. That's the end of it, for me." He was gone before Ulfius could respond.
With a sigh, the disgraced knight turned and left the hall.
[Baldur's Gate 3 and Final Fantasy 16 being basically layered on top of each other, God of Games does not want me to write or do much else for that matter.]
"Womanslayer," Balin sighed, "in truth I am amazed that it stuck. Only killed two."
"Generally, even murdering one woman is enough to give a knight an ill reputation," King Arthur's lady said dryly.
"Oh an ill reputation I understand and deserve. I am a Freeblade and criminal, after all. My honor is well and truly tarnished and very much for sale. As a Freeblade, I've met plenty of men who have killed women and worse. I suppose the women I killed were simply worth more."
"All crimes committed by such knights will be investigated and treated with absolute seriousness," King Arthur said firmly. "But we are at present not talking about them, we are talking about you, a man I am considering taking on an important quest. If that is to be, I need to know the source of your blood feud, and if you will murder more allies of the loyal cause."
Balin took a deep breath, and decided at that moment to tell something that was close to the truth. "My father, as I believe I have mentioned before, fell to the worship of Chaos. I killed him myself, when our house finally came to its end." He scowled with the memory. His father hadn't been the only one to die that night. Balan had fallen as well, and so had she. "My mother died that day as well."
"Don't see what this has to do with the Lady's damsels," Cei cut in suddenly, "sounds to me like you should be hunting Chaos."
"I have to agree, from what you've said, it seems like they are the villains in this tale, as they are in most," Arthur added.
"They are the enemy of all, but it escalated to the point because of the damsels." Balin clenched his fist. "Their Lady sent one of hers to investigate the lord. She knew the man was falling to Chaos, but she wanted to confirm it, then use him as a source of information on the enemy. To that end, she had a woman loyal to her marry the fallen lord." Balin gripped the rest of his chair tightly, his knuckles going pale. "That woman was my mother. She went into a marriage with a man going insane with worship of the dread gods out of loyalty to this world, a belief that what she was doing mattered. But she was abandoned. They had no plan to get her out, they just left her to suffer and die."
"Did she understand the mission?" the lady clerk asked, after a moment of broken quiet.
Balin glared up at her, and tried to measure her stance. Was she, perhaps, a damsel herself? It would make sense, for a lover of a King, one allowed to stay near and add to important conversations like this. The woman stared back, fearlessly and frankly, and Balin decided she wasn't. She didn't have even a glimmer of that fear of death, that even the most well-trained had in the face of a warrior blood-sworn. "It doesn't matter if she knew or not, my mother shouldn't have been in that situation."
"And this came from the top?" Arthur asked.
"I've been killing the damsels who were directly involved in the operation," Balin replied, stiffly.
"And who was at the center of the operation?" the woman asked, her voice level.
"Lady Lile," Balin replied.
King Arthur put his chin in his hand, frowning. "I do not know a damsel by that name."
If his honor wasn't so well and truly tarnished, Balin would feel bad for what he said next. "She is dead."
"So your enemies are all dead?" Cei asked, hands on hips.
"Yes." The lie was bitter, but he knew his course. There could be no regrets.
Arthur leaned toward him. "You need to understand, I will allow no blood feuds under my reign. Matters will be settled through law. After, you will speak to Lady Nimue of the death of her subordinates, Lady Lile and the others. If you serve me well, honorably and loyally, I will speak on your behalf, and try to have no more bloodshed. But that may ultimately be Lady Nimue's decision, not mine."
"Thank you, your highness," Balin returned, "all I am good at is fighting, so I'll do that until the end." And there would be more bloodshed. Balin knew that well, down to his very marrow and soul.
*****************
Ector stared at Ulfius for a long moment, as if weighing on the question. Then he shook his head. "I don't know, all I know is Myrddin brought the boy to me. That's all."
"And you just took him in, out of the goodness of your heart?" Ulfius asked, immediately cursing himself for it. He was trying to look good before his old ally, not like a rank bastard.
Ector's smile tightened. "I took in a boy who had nothing. It was the least I could do, and hardly able to balance out the hell this world has become."
"Perhaps he is Myrddin's son," Ulfius mused, "would that be possible?"
Ector was no longer smiling. "I didn't ask."
"The wizard isn't human, after all."
"Arthur is human," Ector snarled.
"I wasn't implying that," Ulfius said quickly, "just that it makes his paternity impossible. Loyalists to the Imperium would never accept a non-human King, after all."
"What then are you implying, Ulfius?" Ector growled. "What does your little brain rattle about?"
"Surely you can see it too," Ulfius hissed, "there is a bit of King Uther in him, I think. It is buried though, there is something else I can recognize."
Ector turned away. "I know where you are going with this, Ulfius. Whatever the truth is, it exists as it is, not as a way for you to assuage your guilt. King Arthur is my foster son. That's the end of it, for me." He was gone before Ulfius could respond.
With a sigh, the disgraced knight turned and left the hall.
[Baldur's Gate 3 and Final Fantasy 16 being basically layered on top of each other, God of Games does not want me to write or do much else for that matter.]
bookwyrm
Doom of Public Libraries
- Location
- Wichita, Kansas
Plans within plans, hints that maybe the Damsels had something to do with the abduction and rape of Igraine, with the birth of Arthur- in a very like Bene Gesserit way merging the blood of Harkonnen through Jessica with the house of Atreides, perhaps? Regardless, I think the more and more this civil war transitions from 'the Quixotic usurpation of Arthur's little band' to 'the defiance of the increasingly besieged kings against the growing force of the high king', the more players like Nimue will have to start showing their hands.
The Imperials who crash-landed were being moved away from Lot's court to go meet the Lady of the Lake, right? Sounds like the perfect opportunity for the big reveal of Nimue as an actual character in the story, and for exploring what's really up with the Damsels.
The Imperials who crash-landed were being moved away from Lot's court to go meet the Lady of the Lake, right? Sounds like the perfect opportunity for the big reveal of Nimue as an actual character in the story, and for exploring what's really up with the Damsels.
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
With the way people talk about him, you'd think it was more.
Oh no, Balan is dead as well.
If he is telling the whole truth here, then that was a stupid plan from the Damsels.
So the question is, who of his targets are still alive. Nimue herself?
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
I'm wondering. Remember the deliberate distinction between Lancelot and the Freeblade Silver Gauntlet in how they handles being 'dishonored'? Lancelot had Clout Privilege, SG had to resort to corporal punishment to assuage his subordinate's wrongdoing.
I think Balin has gone through the main list of targets. If Nimue was the target, he'd have taken more direct steps to ingratiate himself with the people around the Lady's forces. But the problem is, much like a certain immortal action hero, the powers that be can't let that wrong rest. Knights will always feel that Balin must be slain for his crimes, women will feel they must summon their friends and protectors to strike down a debased killer in arm's reach. Balin knows he's only going to bring Arthur more trouble.
- Location
- Dethklok
Now I wonder how Balin didn't grow up as a chaos worshipper or corrupted by chaos?
Bedwyr Bedbound Part One
MysticKnightJoe
Defender of Holy Terra
- Location
- Fighting the Forces of Evil Across the Cosmos
Bedwyr knew full well he couldn't fall asleep. Yet he also tried to rest, holding Vivian's hand and breathing in and out slowly in the manner Myrddin had taught him so long ago. His foot was starting to hurt at last, which he took as an almost good sign, it meant human feeling was returning to him.
His leg was kept propped on a block, and he wasn't covered by a blanket, mostly to ensure he couldn't get comfortable enough to really sleep. Eventually, he felt the heat of Vivian's hand leave his, and felt a bit of pain at the idea she was leaving him. Maybe he would be thrown aside now, at last realized as a fraud, a cripple who got lucky.
"It was a mistake." The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, but though Bedwyr couldn't place the direction, he knew instantly it wasn't his voice, or Vivian's, or Melissa's, or anyone else he knew. It was a throaty woman's voice. "To go in the in-between state in such a weakened state. Awen is powerful, but now you have left a crack, Bedwyr the Cripple."
"Sir Bedwyr to you," Bedwyr snarled. "I care not if you call me a cripple, whoever you are, but you will address me by the title I have earned." His force of will had returned in an instant. He could look down on himself, but he'd be damned before he allowed others to. He'd die before that would happen, and would be sure it would be a legendary death, not a pathetic one on a cot.
The woman laughed, a high shrieking sound, and slowly came together above Bedwyr, hanging over him like a bird of prey. She was a frightfully tall woman, her features plain, her hair a dull brown, hanging limp beneath her wimple. She was wearing robes of a dull gray, that seemed to end above her wide hips. Beneath the short robe was a length of body that was very clearly not human, though Bedwyr couldn't make it out in the haze of his mind.
So I am being attacked psychically once again, he decided. He glared at the woman, tightening his defenses, and then proceeded to do his very best to ignore her.
Slowly, the woman glided around him, cackling coldly. Bedwyr could hear scratching sounds as she walked, talons or claws tearing into wood. Wood that most certainly didn't exist, it was an attempt to break his concentration, his will.
"You rush along, trying to ignore the weight of destiny, and this is what it leads to," the witch hissed, "struggle and struggle, and slowly die as the weight crushes you." The wood scratched again as she moved.
Bedwyr could make her lower half out now. It resembled a bird of prey, with long pinions and yellowish talons. The feathers seemed to shift constantly, sometimes purple, sometimes green, then suddenly a more uniform white and brown. Bedwyr steadied his breathing, and forced his mind to center the feathers as being white and brown. Just a normal bird-arsed woman, that was all.
"Your King Arthur is much the same. Not the first to so struggle, but he'll be damned like the rest. Drowning in the sea of fate and destiny, from which there is no escape."
Bedwyr stared straight ahead, saying nothing, trying to not respond.
The witch leaned over him, looming like a bird of prey. For an instant, her mouth was a sharp beak, but Bedwyr sank deeper into his trance, and forced it back into the thin-lips that matched the woman's face. "Do you really think this works, human? Your petty little magic trick? If I so wished, this would be your end."
"Then stop your blabbering, spawn of Chaos, and kill me and save me from your presence," Bedwyr muttered, managing to sound more irritated than angry or frightful.
The woman's face twisted into rage, and her mouth split open wide, revealing blood-stained teeth. She seemed to glow, building power within her throat, building to an attack that would no doubt leave Bedwyr dead, with a skull full of ash.
And then, just as suddenly as the psychic attack had begun, the woman was gone. Bedwyr was back in reality, sweating heavily, still gripping Vivian's hand. She was asleep beside him, and the site of her was instantly refreshing, like a sea breeze.
"That was almost nostalgic, Sir Bedwyr," a youthful voice hissed near his ear.
"Almost." He rolled over, and grinned a little. Melissa, the young psyker, was on the other side of the bed. She was smiling, but there was a frightened edge to it. She was still a child. "I'd prefer I not be so attacked, though. I have very little defense against it."
"It was harder than that old bog sorcerer who plagued you those years ago," she said softly. She rubbed her arms, shaking. "If she had focused on me, instead of being drawn so fully on you, I may not have been able to drive her away. She was very strong, either a Chaos Lord or something far worse." The girl smiled then. "Still, you shouldn't be so down on yourself. That was an effort of extreme will on your part. Myrddin says only Arthur shows more sheer willpower than you."
Bedwyr laughed. "Well, that's why King Arthur is King. I guess he'd be able to flick off that sorceress with barely an effort."
"Oh it would take effort," Melissa blurted, "but he would manage it alone." She flushed. "I'm sorry, that probably seemed rude to you."
"Not at all," Bedwyr said with a sigh, "no shame in needing help. I'm well aware Arthur is stronger than I am. I wouldn't be laid up in this cot if I had even a fraction of his strength."
Melissa seemed to want to respond, but before she could, the door to the medic room swung open. The little psyker flinched, then seemed to waver, vanishing into thin air. A man in armor, helmer under his arm, walked in, a pale woman following close behind, one of the medics at his side. The man's nose was bleeding heavily.
"I'm fine," he snapped, "quit your whining, it is just a minor wound."
"But Sir Lanceor," the woman stammered, "it was quite the blow, proof of Sir Balin's strength. What if he returns and tries to cause you more harm."
"All it proves, Colombe," Lanceor said roughly, "is Sir Balin has good boots and a strong kick. If Lady Cei hadn't interfered I'd have had him on the ground in a few more seconds."
"It will need to be reset," the medic stammered, "and please, Sir Bedwyr is resting before his transport tomorrow, do try to keep it down."
"No need to worry about me," Bedwyr called over, waving. "I'm already up." The talk of Sir Balin and Lady Cei worried him immensely. He'd ask this man, Lanceor, about it.
Beside him, Vivian stirred and gave Lanceor a rather frosty look. She rubbed her eyes and muttered, "I, on the other hand, was sleeping quite soundly."
"Oh! Vivian!" Colombe cried. She rushed to the other woman's side. "Have you heard, Sir Balin Womanslayer is here! It is terrible, King Arthur is letting him walk free and armed, he broke dear Sir Lanceor's nose! He's a vile animal, Vivian, he wants to kill followers of the Lady like you and me, he…"
Vivian smiled, taking Colombe's hand. "Good to see you again, Colombe. You were always high strung. Don't you worry, King Arthur has Sir Balin on a tight leash. We traveled close together, and he never made an ill move against me."
Colombe darted a look between Vivian and Bedwyr. "You have Sir Bedwyr though, so he wouldn't risk it."
"Are you saying I'm not a deterrent?" Lanceor said, scowling darkly. Before the medic could he reached up, grabbed his broken nose with his right hand, and wrenched it back into place with a pained grunt.
Poor Colombe looked at her lover, eyes wide. "Of course not, Sir."
"You asked Sir Lanceor to kill Sir Balin then?"
Lanceor dabbed at the blood around his nose. "Aye," he answered for his damsel, "she did. And I would have if Lady Cei hadn't interfered."
Bedwyr closed his eyes and sighed. Life certainly wasn't any less complicated than a psychic assault. "King Arthur wishes to use Sir Balin, for his considerable talents."
"You and I are twice the knights that mad dog is," Lanceor growled, "and ten times the men."
"Think of it this way," Bedwyr noted wearily. "Where King Arthur goes is the most deadly circumstances. Sir Balin may be killed as readily as he is redeemed."
Lanceor and Colombe both seemed to relax at that assertion. "Better than he deserves," grumbled Lanceor.
"Perhaps," Vivian sighed. She squeezed Colombe's hand. "But don't be worried, Colombe. Sir Balin will be far away very soon. King Arthur will make sure he kills no innocents while under his banner. No blood will be shed unrighteously."
"Sir Balin has killed his last damsel," Bedwyr agreed.
"Then I can count on your support against him, once you are well?" Lanceor asked, pouncing on the opening.
Bedwyr turned toward the other knight. With his blood flecked nose and angry eyes, he looked as feral as he claimed Sir Balin was. "I will support you, once we are in a more stable position, in whatever regard seems most reasonable given the circumstances," Bedwyr said at last, trying to be diplomatic.
"Thank you, Sir Bedwyr," Colombe cried, leaning down to kiss his hand. "Lady bless you, and the Throne of course."
Bedwyr saw a flicker of heated jealousy in Lanceor's eyes at Colombe's tender gesture.
A medic peaked in, before more could be said. "If Sir Lanceor and Lady Colombe are well now, please leave. King Arthur has arrived with the wizard and the magos. They wish to see Sir Bedwyr at once. Alone."
Lanceor and Colombe rose to leave, Lanceor putting a possessive arm over his lady. He glared at Bedwyr. "Remember your promise, sir."
"Of course," Bedwyr said, exhausted. "Farewell, Sir Lanceor, Lady Colombe."
They left swiftly. Once they were gone, Bedwyr put a hand through his hair. "Hope I don't regret that promise."
"I don't think you will," Vivian sighed. "Sir Balin does merit some kind of punishment, we just need to know all the facts of what exactly happened in his life." She looked at Bedwyr, frowning. "Are you ok, Bedwyr? You seem more on edge than a visit from poor paranoid Colombe and her lover could cause."
"I'll speak of it when King Arthur comes," Bedwyr said. For all that he had to face, it was comforting to know he had friends, and powerful ones at that. They'd know what to do.
His leg was kept propped on a block, and he wasn't covered by a blanket, mostly to ensure he couldn't get comfortable enough to really sleep. Eventually, he felt the heat of Vivian's hand leave his, and felt a bit of pain at the idea she was leaving him. Maybe he would be thrown aside now, at last realized as a fraud, a cripple who got lucky.
"It was a mistake." The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, but though Bedwyr couldn't place the direction, he knew instantly it wasn't his voice, or Vivian's, or Melissa's, or anyone else he knew. It was a throaty woman's voice. "To go in the in-between state in such a weakened state. Awen is powerful, but now you have left a crack, Bedwyr the Cripple."
"Sir Bedwyr to you," Bedwyr snarled. "I care not if you call me a cripple, whoever you are, but you will address me by the title I have earned." His force of will had returned in an instant. He could look down on himself, but he'd be damned before he allowed others to. He'd die before that would happen, and would be sure it would be a legendary death, not a pathetic one on a cot.
The woman laughed, a high shrieking sound, and slowly came together above Bedwyr, hanging over him like a bird of prey. She was a frightfully tall woman, her features plain, her hair a dull brown, hanging limp beneath her wimple. She was wearing robes of a dull gray, that seemed to end above her wide hips. Beneath the short robe was a length of body that was very clearly not human, though Bedwyr couldn't make it out in the haze of his mind.
So I am being attacked psychically once again, he decided. He glared at the woman, tightening his defenses, and then proceeded to do his very best to ignore her.
Slowly, the woman glided around him, cackling coldly. Bedwyr could hear scratching sounds as she walked, talons or claws tearing into wood. Wood that most certainly didn't exist, it was an attempt to break his concentration, his will.
"You rush along, trying to ignore the weight of destiny, and this is what it leads to," the witch hissed, "struggle and struggle, and slowly die as the weight crushes you." The wood scratched again as she moved.
Bedwyr could make her lower half out now. It resembled a bird of prey, with long pinions and yellowish talons. The feathers seemed to shift constantly, sometimes purple, sometimes green, then suddenly a more uniform white and brown. Bedwyr steadied his breathing, and forced his mind to center the feathers as being white and brown. Just a normal bird-arsed woman, that was all.
"Your King Arthur is much the same. Not the first to so struggle, but he'll be damned like the rest. Drowning in the sea of fate and destiny, from which there is no escape."
Bedwyr stared straight ahead, saying nothing, trying to not respond.
The witch leaned over him, looming like a bird of prey. For an instant, her mouth was a sharp beak, but Bedwyr sank deeper into his trance, and forced it back into the thin-lips that matched the woman's face. "Do you really think this works, human? Your petty little magic trick? If I so wished, this would be your end."
"Then stop your blabbering, spawn of Chaos, and kill me and save me from your presence," Bedwyr muttered, managing to sound more irritated than angry or frightful.
The woman's face twisted into rage, and her mouth split open wide, revealing blood-stained teeth. She seemed to glow, building power within her throat, building to an attack that would no doubt leave Bedwyr dead, with a skull full of ash.
And then, just as suddenly as the psychic attack had begun, the woman was gone. Bedwyr was back in reality, sweating heavily, still gripping Vivian's hand. She was asleep beside him, and the site of her was instantly refreshing, like a sea breeze.
"That was almost nostalgic, Sir Bedwyr," a youthful voice hissed near his ear.
"Almost." He rolled over, and grinned a little. Melissa, the young psyker, was on the other side of the bed. She was smiling, but there was a frightened edge to it. She was still a child. "I'd prefer I not be so attacked, though. I have very little defense against it."
"It was harder than that old bog sorcerer who plagued you those years ago," she said softly. She rubbed her arms, shaking. "If she had focused on me, instead of being drawn so fully on you, I may not have been able to drive her away. She was very strong, either a Chaos Lord or something far worse." The girl smiled then. "Still, you shouldn't be so down on yourself. That was an effort of extreme will on your part. Myrddin says only Arthur shows more sheer willpower than you."
Bedwyr laughed. "Well, that's why King Arthur is King. I guess he'd be able to flick off that sorceress with barely an effort."
"Oh it would take effort," Melissa blurted, "but he would manage it alone." She flushed. "I'm sorry, that probably seemed rude to you."
"Not at all," Bedwyr said with a sigh, "no shame in needing help. I'm well aware Arthur is stronger than I am. I wouldn't be laid up in this cot if I had even a fraction of his strength."
Melissa seemed to want to respond, but before she could, the door to the medic room swung open. The little psyker flinched, then seemed to waver, vanishing into thin air. A man in armor, helmer under his arm, walked in, a pale woman following close behind, one of the medics at his side. The man's nose was bleeding heavily.
"I'm fine," he snapped, "quit your whining, it is just a minor wound."
"But Sir Lanceor," the woman stammered, "it was quite the blow, proof of Sir Balin's strength. What if he returns and tries to cause you more harm."
"All it proves, Colombe," Lanceor said roughly, "is Sir Balin has good boots and a strong kick. If Lady Cei hadn't interfered I'd have had him on the ground in a few more seconds."
"It will need to be reset," the medic stammered, "and please, Sir Bedwyr is resting before his transport tomorrow, do try to keep it down."
"No need to worry about me," Bedwyr called over, waving. "I'm already up." The talk of Sir Balin and Lady Cei worried him immensely. He'd ask this man, Lanceor, about it.
Beside him, Vivian stirred and gave Lanceor a rather frosty look. She rubbed her eyes and muttered, "I, on the other hand, was sleeping quite soundly."
"Oh! Vivian!" Colombe cried. She rushed to the other woman's side. "Have you heard, Sir Balin Womanslayer is here! It is terrible, King Arthur is letting him walk free and armed, he broke dear Sir Lanceor's nose! He's a vile animal, Vivian, he wants to kill followers of the Lady like you and me, he…"
Vivian smiled, taking Colombe's hand. "Good to see you again, Colombe. You were always high strung. Don't you worry, King Arthur has Sir Balin on a tight leash. We traveled close together, and he never made an ill move against me."
Colombe darted a look between Vivian and Bedwyr. "You have Sir Bedwyr though, so he wouldn't risk it."
"Are you saying I'm not a deterrent?" Lanceor said, scowling darkly. Before the medic could he reached up, grabbed his broken nose with his right hand, and wrenched it back into place with a pained grunt.
Poor Colombe looked at her lover, eyes wide. "Of course not, Sir."
"You asked Sir Lanceor to kill Sir Balin then?"
Lanceor dabbed at the blood around his nose. "Aye," he answered for his damsel, "she did. And I would have if Lady Cei hadn't interfered."
Bedwyr closed his eyes and sighed. Life certainly wasn't any less complicated than a psychic assault. "King Arthur wishes to use Sir Balin, for his considerable talents."
"You and I are twice the knights that mad dog is," Lanceor growled, "and ten times the men."
"Think of it this way," Bedwyr noted wearily. "Where King Arthur goes is the most deadly circumstances. Sir Balin may be killed as readily as he is redeemed."
Lanceor and Colombe both seemed to relax at that assertion. "Better than he deserves," grumbled Lanceor.
"Perhaps," Vivian sighed. She squeezed Colombe's hand. "But don't be worried, Colombe. Sir Balin will be far away very soon. King Arthur will make sure he kills no innocents while under his banner. No blood will be shed unrighteously."
"Sir Balin has killed his last damsel," Bedwyr agreed.
"Then I can count on your support against him, once you are well?" Lanceor asked, pouncing on the opening.
Bedwyr turned toward the other knight. With his blood flecked nose and angry eyes, he looked as feral as he claimed Sir Balin was. "I will support you, once we are in a more stable position, in whatever regard seems most reasonable given the circumstances," Bedwyr said at last, trying to be diplomatic.
"Thank you, Sir Bedwyr," Colombe cried, leaning down to kiss his hand. "Lady bless you, and the Throne of course."
Bedwyr saw a flicker of heated jealousy in Lanceor's eyes at Colombe's tender gesture.
A medic peaked in, before more could be said. "If Sir Lanceor and Lady Colombe are well now, please leave. King Arthur has arrived with the wizard and the magos. They wish to see Sir Bedwyr at once. Alone."
Lanceor and Colombe rose to leave, Lanceor putting a possessive arm over his lady. He glared at Bedwyr. "Remember your promise, sir."
"Of course," Bedwyr said, exhausted. "Farewell, Sir Lanceor, Lady Colombe."
They left swiftly. Once they were gone, Bedwyr put a hand through his hair. "Hope I don't regret that promise."
"I don't think you will," Vivian sighed. "Sir Balin does merit some kind of punishment, we just need to know all the facts of what exactly happened in his life." She looked at Bedwyr, frowning. "Are you ok, Bedwyr? You seem more on edge than a visit from poor paranoid Colombe and her lover could cause."
"I'll speak of it when King Arthur comes," Bedwyr said. For all that he had to face, it was comforting to know he had friends, and powerful ones at that. They'd know what to do.
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
Yeah, you tell her, Bedwyr!
Ok, this is very worrying.
Heh, that's the best way to sound when you want to irritate someone with a big ego and flair for dramatics.
Bedwyr does have some way with words.
Oh, calm down, boy.
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
This is Lancelot. The only reason he hasn't snapped is the lack of a Xiphon Interceptor and the NTR plot line.
That said, he's very quick to make friends with Beddie. Last they met, Lancelot was fuming over having been played into a stalling action and still not having a proper rematch. But I think that with the benefit of hindsight and a current distraction for his ire, Lancelot is being more honest about Beddie's skill and prestige. He's treating the kid as a peer.
MysticKnightJoe
Defender of Holy Terra
- Location
- Fighting the Forces of Evil Across the Cosmos
This isn't Lancelot, it's Lanceor. Sorry, similar names so it gets a bit confusing
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
Yeah, I was also confused for a hot second, like "Lancelot!? How is he suddenly here?!", before realizing it was a different name.
MysticKnightJoe
Defender of Holy Terra
- Location
- Fighting the Forces of Evil Across the Cosmos
Just be happy I'm only planning on having one Bors, one Elaine, one Lionel, one Ector...etc etc
bookwyrm
Doom of Public Libraries
- Location
- Wichita, Kansas
Come on these are desperate times for the free kingdoms of Avalon, you can't expect everyone to get their own distinct name! if everyone refuses to pitch in and share their root name elements, then they'll be thousands of poor children trapped in namelessness with no more good loyalist names to give them, just think of all the at-risk teens tempted to adopt traitor names and in danger of damning their souls just for a measly Vortimer or a Diwrnach.
MysticKnightJoe
Defender of Holy Terra
- Location
- Fighting the Forces of Evil Across the Cosmos
There was a minor feminist uprising a few centuries before Vortigern over upperclass women only having about four acceptable names. This is why every woman we meet isn't just named "Elaine"
Bedwyr Bedbound Part Two
MysticKnightJoe
Defender of Holy Terra
- Location
- Fighting the Forces of Evil Across the Cosmos
When Arthur entered the room where Bedwyr was resting before transport, Myrddin and the mad druid Waylen moved to the injured knight before he could, Waylen kneeling by the foot, inspecting it. Myrddin looked around the room, scowling. "Something stinks," the wizard hissed, "Chaos?"
Melissa appeared beside Arthur, the little girl pale. She didn't look like the frightfully powerful entity she was, just a village child. "Bedwyr was visited by a sorceress or a daemon," she said softly, "we were able to push her away."
Myrddin swore violently in the elder tongue, and Arthur couldn't help but smile. That language wasn't meant for harsh sentiment. He put a hand on the wizard's shoulder. "Can you do anything to prevent other incursions?" he asked.
"I've given Bedwyr some mental training, and Melissa will no doubt be by his side for the reminder of his recuperation, that is the best I can do." The wizard looked guilty at Bedwyr. "I do apologize, sir."
"Don't," Bedwyr said gruffly, "I can take care of myself."
Vivian gave her lover a frightened look. "If we had my friend Ragnelle, she could help, she's a perfect counter to this sort of thing. But I haven't seen her in years." She sighed. "I hope she is ok."
"If she can't be found, best to not dwell on it," Myrddin said, "if she is to be found, she'll be found in time."
Meanwhile, Waylen seemed to be ignoring everything else as he kneeled by Bedwyr's foot. "Faulty," rumbled the maniac, "either you haven't had it regularly checked by a machine priest, or the one who checked it was a complete incompetent."
"I've been busy," Bedwyr replied.
Waylen quivered and his mechanical limbs emerged, blades whirring. "Hold still."
As Waylen began the work, Bedwyr ignored the pain. "I was visited by Sir Lanceor, before you came in. He said Sir Balin is going to be traveling with you. In my place while I heal." He tried to not sound bitter.
"To keep an eye on the man as much as anything," Arthur said, "there is good in him, I think. I wish to nurture it. That can't happen if he is challenged every ten seconds."
"Yet he is also better than me in combat," Bedwyr added dryly. He flinched, whatever Waylen was doing felt like his bones were being flayed.
"You two have never fought, so that can't be measured." Arthur stepped close, and put a hand on Bedwyr's head. "Believe me, I'd prefer you were with me, for all quests to come. Yet you need to rest, and heal well. If you fell in battle for a wounded foot, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."
Bedwyr winced, Waylen hissed something in binaric, and one mechanical limb grabbed Bedwyr's leg tightly to stop it from moving. "It wouldn't be your fault. If I fall, it would be mine. For being too weak."
"You are not weak." Arthur bent down to kiss Bedwyr's brow. "Get well soon, and return to my side, Sir Bedwyr."
"Of course, Arth-" He was interrupted by a wrenching feeling at his foot, a sharp jolt of sudden agony. "Waylen, the hell are you doing?" he yelled.
Waylen held aloft the broken foot. "This should make it easier, quicker to heal." The top of the old augmetic was jagged, and covered in blood. "It is in worse shape than I expected."
"It won't be a problem anymore," Myrddin said calmly, "one less problem is always good."
"Get the medic to bind his foot tighter, by necessity I caused more damage. My work is done." Waylen left the room. "Deal with your fleshy emotional needs. I will be waiting by Caliburn."
"Always a pleasure," Vivian muttered, holding Bedwyr's hand tightly.
"I have to go, Bedwyr," Arthur said softly. "I'm sorry I didn't visit earlier, I'm sorry we didn't have more time before we had to part."
Bedwyr forced a smile. "It is only temporary. I understand that. I simply refuse to die, unless it is in battle with the enemy."
"Or after a long life well lived," Vivian added.
"Melissa will stick with you," Myrddin said in the tenor of an order. "I will stay and give a little more training in case of another psychic assault."
Melissa nodded in response, still pale and frightened.
"Before you leave, on the subject of Sir Lanceor, he got a promise from me to help him bring suit against Sir Balin, once things are more stable." Bedwyr shrugged. "My word is my bond, and I'll admit I don't trust Sir Balin fully."
Arthur nodded to him in response. "Hopefully it won't be necessary. But if it is, it is an honorable promise, Bedwyr."
Bedwyr nodded, and managed a bow as King Arthur left the room with Myrddin.
Arthur stood outside the door for a moment, scowling. "We should return the attack if we can," he said grimly. "It seems to me that only being able to defend against psychic attack is not a good stance."
Myrddin shook his head. "The grim fact is Chaos will always have a stronger position in that regard than us. Fighting fire with fire sounds well and good, but it is always a trap."
"So what shall we do against this enemy?" Arthur asked.
"Defend as best we can, and eventually force her into a more physical battleground. That is where we can triumph."
She leaned back, smiling like a predator. Stronger than expected. If she pressed and kept pressing, she could probably eventually kill Sir Bedwyr and his little girl psychic. But that could also overextend herself, and it was best to be cautious where she was. There were daggers here, lurking in the shadows, and people grew jealous of the sway she held over Chaos Tyrant Vortigern.
Not that the petty mortal men of this place could harm her, she had more power then that. She walked over to the wide window overlooking the dark valley. A slave in black armor kneeled at the window, as he had for the entire day and night. His dark hair was filthy, and he stank of gore and sweat and filth. He glared up at her, his eyes bright with hatred and defiance.
She sprang, her talons latching onto the railing, leaning down to stare down at the ants below. "You are not broken yet?" she hissed to the slave. "You stand with such defiance." She reached with a bare shred of power, driving the slave deeper to his knees.
"Kill you," the slave croaked out, "kill Chaos."
She burst into laughter. "Kill Chaos? You are a fool, slave, for Chaos cannot be slain." She turned on the railing, and bent forward so she was staring right into the slave's eyes with her. "Yet I find your defiance funny. I can't wait to see when destiny finally crushes you under its weight."
The slave stared back. The face she could see was scared, but still handsome, the defiance only adding to it. The body she held felt some thrill at that, a vague desire to drag the man to the bed and force him deep inside her.
But that was a human instinct, and she wasn't human. She'd never been human in fact, and the body was rapidly losing even the impulses of a human. "Thou art a slave, of both destiny and men, so cease your struggles and yield. Chaos has many rewards for even weak men like you."
He said nothing, but the eyes seemed to flare with absolute hatred and contempt.
She wished she could watch him forever, his foolish struggle against the chains that bound him down both real and esoterically. But right now she had matters to settle as well. Bound to the petty schemes of men. It was pathetic, really. Yet all came together into the endless web of scheme, which some fools called destiny. Tyrant Vortigern was no doubt the grandest idiot on this filthy planet.
"Stay to your post," she hissed to the slave. "I will be back, if you have moved an inch I will punish you." She leapt from the railing, and her great wings, often hidden, spread wide. Vortigern's room was in the highest tower, twined with a thick dark cable that looped round and round and vanished in the shadows below.
He had some perspective, at least, some understanding of destiny. She landed on the outcropping, and stared into the dark of the room. All that was visible was a casket, out in the relatively fresh air. The cable looped up from the tower, and went behind the casket into the darkness.
"Come in, Priestess of Tzeentch."
She obeyed, as she would for now until destiny commanded otherwise.
And well away, the slave glared after her flight. Under his breath, he muttered the same two words over and over, like a mantra: "Kill Chaos. Kill Chaos. Kill Chaos."
Melissa appeared beside Arthur, the little girl pale. She didn't look like the frightfully powerful entity she was, just a village child. "Bedwyr was visited by a sorceress or a daemon," she said softly, "we were able to push her away."
Myrddin swore violently in the elder tongue, and Arthur couldn't help but smile. That language wasn't meant for harsh sentiment. He put a hand on the wizard's shoulder. "Can you do anything to prevent other incursions?" he asked.
"I've given Bedwyr some mental training, and Melissa will no doubt be by his side for the reminder of his recuperation, that is the best I can do." The wizard looked guilty at Bedwyr. "I do apologize, sir."
"Don't," Bedwyr said gruffly, "I can take care of myself."
Vivian gave her lover a frightened look. "If we had my friend Ragnelle, she could help, she's a perfect counter to this sort of thing. But I haven't seen her in years." She sighed. "I hope she is ok."
"If she can't be found, best to not dwell on it," Myrddin said, "if she is to be found, she'll be found in time."
Meanwhile, Waylen seemed to be ignoring everything else as he kneeled by Bedwyr's foot. "Faulty," rumbled the maniac, "either you haven't had it regularly checked by a machine priest, or the one who checked it was a complete incompetent."
"I've been busy," Bedwyr replied.
Waylen quivered and his mechanical limbs emerged, blades whirring. "Hold still."
As Waylen began the work, Bedwyr ignored the pain. "I was visited by Sir Lanceor, before you came in. He said Sir Balin is going to be traveling with you. In my place while I heal." He tried to not sound bitter.
"To keep an eye on the man as much as anything," Arthur said, "there is good in him, I think. I wish to nurture it. That can't happen if he is challenged every ten seconds."
"Yet he is also better than me in combat," Bedwyr added dryly. He flinched, whatever Waylen was doing felt like his bones were being flayed.
"You two have never fought, so that can't be measured." Arthur stepped close, and put a hand on Bedwyr's head. "Believe me, I'd prefer you were with me, for all quests to come. Yet you need to rest, and heal well. If you fell in battle for a wounded foot, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself."
Bedwyr winced, Waylen hissed something in binaric, and one mechanical limb grabbed Bedwyr's leg tightly to stop it from moving. "It wouldn't be your fault. If I fall, it would be mine. For being too weak."
"You are not weak." Arthur bent down to kiss Bedwyr's brow. "Get well soon, and return to my side, Sir Bedwyr."
"Of course, Arth-" He was interrupted by a wrenching feeling at his foot, a sharp jolt of sudden agony. "Waylen, the hell are you doing?" he yelled.
Waylen held aloft the broken foot. "This should make it easier, quicker to heal." The top of the old augmetic was jagged, and covered in blood. "It is in worse shape than I expected."
"It won't be a problem anymore," Myrddin said calmly, "one less problem is always good."
"Get the medic to bind his foot tighter, by necessity I caused more damage. My work is done." Waylen left the room. "Deal with your fleshy emotional needs. I will be waiting by Caliburn."
"Always a pleasure," Vivian muttered, holding Bedwyr's hand tightly.
"I have to go, Bedwyr," Arthur said softly. "I'm sorry I didn't visit earlier, I'm sorry we didn't have more time before we had to part."
Bedwyr forced a smile. "It is only temporary. I understand that. I simply refuse to die, unless it is in battle with the enemy."
"Or after a long life well lived," Vivian added.
"Melissa will stick with you," Myrddin said in the tenor of an order. "I will stay and give a little more training in case of another psychic assault."
Melissa nodded in response, still pale and frightened.
"Before you leave, on the subject of Sir Lanceor, he got a promise from me to help him bring suit against Sir Balin, once things are more stable." Bedwyr shrugged. "My word is my bond, and I'll admit I don't trust Sir Balin fully."
Arthur nodded to him in response. "Hopefully it won't be necessary. But if it is, it is an honorable promise, Bedwyr."
Bedwyr nodded, and managed a bow as King Arthur left the room with Myrddin.
Arthur stood outside the door for a moment, scowling. "We should return the attack if we can," he said grimly. "It seems to me that only being able to defend against psychic attack is not a good stance."
Myrddin shook his head. "The grim fact is Chaos will always have a stronger position in that regard than us. Fighting fire with fire sounds well and good, but it is always a trap."
"So what shall we do against this enemy?" Arthur asked.
"Defend as best we can, and eventually force her into a more physical battleground. That is where we can triumph."
*****************
She leaned back, smiling like a predator. Stronger than expected. If she pressed and kept pressing, she could probably eventually kill Sir Bedwyr and his little girl psychic. But that could also overextend herself, and it was best to be cautious where she was. There were daggers here, lurking in the shadows, and people grew jealous of the sway she held over Chaos Tyrant Vortigern.
Not that the petty mortal men of this place could harm her, she had more power then that. She walked over to the wide window overlooking the dark valley. A slave in black armor kneeled at the window, as he had for the entire day and night. His dark hair was filthy, and he stank of gore and sweat and filth. He glared up at her, his eyes bright with hatred and defiance.
She sprang, her talons latching onto the railing, leaning down to stare down at the ants below. "You are not broken yet?" she hissed to the slave. "You stand with such defiance." She reached with a bare shred of power, driving the slave deeper to his knees.
"Kill you," the slave croaked out, "kill Chaos."
She burst into laughter. "Kill Chaos? You are a fool, slave, for Chaos cannot be slain." She turned on the railing, and bent forward so she was staring right into the slave's eyes with her. "Yet I find your defiance funny. I can't wait to see when destiny finally crushes you under its weight."
The slave stared back. The face she could see was scared, but still handsome, the defiance only adding to it. The body she held felt some thrill at that, a vague desire to drag the man to the bed and force him deep inside her.
But that was a human instinct, and she wasn't human. She'd never been human in fact, and the body was rapidly losing even the impulses of a human. "Thou art a slave, of both destiny and men, so cease your struggles and yield. Chaos has many rewards for even weak men like you."
He said nothing, but the eyes seemed to flare with absolute hatred and contempt.
She wished she could watch him forever, his foolish struggle against the chains that bound him down both real and esoterically. But right now she had matters to settle as well. Bound to the petty schemes of men. It was pathetic, really. Yet all came together into the endless web of scheme, which some fools called destiny. Tyrant Vortigern was no doubt the grandest idiot on this filthy planet.
"Stay to your post," she hissed to the slave. "I will be back, if you have moved an inch I will punish you." She leapt from the railing, and her great wings, often hidden, spread wide. Vortigern's room was in the highest tower, twined with a thick dark cable that looped round and round and vanished in the shadows below.
He had some perspective, at least, some understanding of destiny. She landed on the outcropping, and stared into the dark of the room. All that was visible was a casket, out in the relatively fresh air. The cable looped up from the tower, and went behind the casket into the darkness.
"Come in, Priestess of Tzeentch."
She obeyed, as she would for now until destiny commanded otherwise.
And well away, the slave glared after her flight. Under his breath, he muttered the same two words over and over, like a mantra: "Kill Chaos. Kill Chaos. Kill Chaos."
Do not break, for the Emperor is with you. The Inquisition not so much.
MysticKnightJoe
Defender of Holy Terra
- Location
- Fighting the Forces of Evil Across the Cosmos
No he's new
MysticKnightJoe
Defender of Holy Terra
- Location
- Fighting the Forces of Evil Across the Cosmos
If they didn't do the ol' scourge and purge first