Behind Closed Doors | KoL (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
behindcloseddoors) wrote2012-02-08 10:37 am
behindcloseddoors) wrote2012-02-08 10:37 am
Entry tags:
prologue ♔ passion or coincidence once prompted you to say | pride will tear us both apart
♬ Ordinary World ; Red
WHO || Wynnefalshond & Arthur Pendragon [closed]
WHAT || The tables have turned.
WHERE || Winchester, Hampshire, England, outside the Great Hall
WHEN || Wednesday, Feb 8, 2012, morning
HOW || Actionspam
[It was possible, of course, that this lunatic was nothing more than a lunatic. The world was full of them, after all, and Wynn had seen a vast extent of fools in his time. But perhaps it was the sudden influx of arrivals in the past week whose stories didn't hold up to the same tale he'd been hearing for centuries - people coming from somewhere other than the Shadow World - that had him on edge, and drove him to investigate the claims of the man claiming to be "Arthur Pendragon" himself.
Apparently, he'd appeared quite suddenly wearing full plate mail in the Great Hall of what was left of Winchester Castle, where a reproduction of the Round Table hung famously on the wall. This might have been taken as something of a good prank if he hadn't actually been wearing a quite dangerous looking sword as well, and argued so vehemently with the security guards who came to escort him off the grounds.
Wynn had his ways of traveling quickly, when he had to, and whatever instincts drove him to not just dismiss this also compelled him to utilized those methods now. There was a sense of something in his gut that he couldn't quell. It felt a lot like dread, which was something he'd gone a long time without feeling.
So it was that he marched along the path outside the building, casting his eyes around for signs of the madman. Perhaps he'd continued to argue and been hauled off to a cell. A frown carved its way across Wynn's features as he walked around the perimeter, ignoring the stares that his unusual height and cut of clothing drew. It was rare that he questioned his own judgment in matters like these, but he started to think that perhaps this had been a spectacular waste of his time, after all.]
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It has been only about a hundred years since the world grew aware as a whole of the reality of magic and magical creatures. The response has been varied, but almost all cultures now recognize magic as something to be appreciated and respected, not feared or reviled.
There's darkness in some aspects of it, yes, but there's also the potential for equal darkness in the deeds men can do without it.
Not everyone is so willing to embrace such an ideal of a world at peace, however.
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[ But peace. Arthur may know far too much about war for a man who's never properly waged one, but it's knowledge he would never wish to use. ]
I could not fight for the cause of magic. But I could fight for peace.
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That is the most important goal we serve.
[After a moment of searching the man's gaze, he turns his eyes back to the great gilded doors. His voice is carefully even.] You said you had only ever met one magical being before that meant you no harm.
You were mistaken. You have met two.
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[ Arthur sounds confused. If he has met another, he does not remember it, and Arthur looks back to the doors as though waiting for light to be shed. Unless, of course, it was a creature he had met in this world. And he can count the beings he's met here on one hand. His eyes slide over to Wynnefalshond, too-tall and pale, strange of name and speech, and then his whole head turns as the pieces slot neatly into place. ]
[ I've found that the ideals of the chivalric code have rung true with mankind throughout the ages. And not just mankind. ]
[ Men like you aren't the only things to have come through the Veil. ]
[ Fifteen hundred years ago, I was faced with the same choice. ]
[ Arthur's eyes widen, though to his credit, only fractionally. ]
You're joking.
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♬ Supertzar - Black Sabbath
[Wynn lays one hand against the doors, and abruptly a crack appears in them, an intense golden light spilling forth† as they begin to open. The light dims after a moment, however there is still a bizarre golden glow emanating from beyond.
For a second, Wynn stands in silhouette against the light, apparently unmoved by it, until it resolves itself into something easier to look at. He does not turn, and his tone is careful, as if a lot rides on this moment.]
I would entrust you with my secret, Arthur-King, but you must brave those final steps.
[It isn't that he believes Arthur lacks in courage. But this is beyond a need for courage. It is a question of trust, instinctual or otherwise.
With that said, Wynn moves forward into the hallway that connects in a T-formation, splitting left and right and dead-ending straight ahead, disappearing around the corner to the left with measured pacing.]
† [Reflex save 15 to avert thy eyes on time; Fort save 15 to not be momentarily blinded, failing that]
well this reply sure fast-tracked my character sheet. Reflex: 17
[ Does he trust the man? Oddly, yes. If only because in a world where everything is madness, he has made things understandable. Arthur has followed along, like a leaf in the wake of something huge and flying, caught up in talk of veils and magic and knighthood and glory. ]
[ He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath to steady himself. Wonders what would happen to him if he turned around and walked away. ]
[ Behind him, the doppel Excalibur seems to mock him with a reminder that this is not his time, not his world. He must return home. And in that, he trusts Wynn, who has lived over a thousand years away from his. ]
[ Arthur walks forward. He intends to follow Wynn, but at the juncture of the corridor he looks both left and right. ]
yw C:
The glow originates from the direction Wynn took to the left, and the sight that meets Arthur's eyes there would be enough to stop anyone in their tracks.
It feels as if the room opens into yet another world, a world composed entirely of gold, but that's merely because the overall effect is so dramatic. The ceiling rises just as high as the dragon statue did in the next room, making it clear this room extends through both floors of the castle, and the room is lit by the warm flickering light of numerous candelabras on tall stands. Gathered in innumerable piles on the floor is a veritable sea of loose coins, dotted with golden artifacts, jewels, gems, shields, pieces of armor, weapons, staffs, tapestries, sculptures, scepters, pillars, tomes, and who knows what more. The coins seem structured in various mounds at first, that look deceptively like small hills or more morbidly, burial mounds, but it becomes clear upon looking a moment longer that it is because they are sloped around a large depression in the center, that has to be at least 120 feet in diameter.
Wynn stands a few feet inside the room, his expression obscured, hands locked behind his back once more
He says nothing.]
[
this is not a serious song cue but I can't help myself]no subject
[ But he recovers soon enough, walks up beside Wynn, not certain what he's being shown apart from a lot of money. And there are quips on the tip of his tongue but it doesn't seem the time to make light. ]
Tell me what this means.
and this would be why you get a secret log 8|
[Wynn turns his head to look at Arthur for a long moment, as if waiting to see whether realization will sink in or not. But he knows there's really only one way to fully allow that to happen.]
Once again: it may be a simpler matter to show you.
[And with that he walks forward over the piles, with uncannily sure footing, the coins clinking and crunching beneath his boots. As he reaches the crest of one mound, he tilts his head up to gaze at the distant window fixed in the ceiling. A strange scent pervades the room, not entirely unpleasant.†
Wynn looks back at Arthur, and his eyes have changed entirely. Instead of being dark, they appear to be composed of pure mercury, void of any pupil, and they seem to flash with a sudden sheen when the light catches them. And then, with a suddenness that's nearly startling, he is expanding, changing. Wynn's features don't seem to even contort, just vanish to reveal others, as if someone were rubbing away one image painted over another, much larger image.
The first striking features to reveal themselves are an enormous expanse of glistening scales, each barely distinguishable from the ones beside it, giving the appearance of a creature sculpted out of pure metal. The head that rears up on the long neck is crested by a dramatic metallic silver frill, supported by black tipped spines, that flows down the creature's head and neck. Similar ear frills fan out from below two long, smooth silver horns, tipped in black. Its nose is beaklike, and no teeth visibly protrude from its closed mouth, while a frill dangles from its chin that looks strikingly like a miniature goatee. An especially shiny and tough looking plate covers the front of its face, blending into its beak.
As it rears to a standing position, the creature comes to tower at a height almost four times that of the man, two long silver wings with darkened edges unfolding and stretching to a span of one hundred and fifty feet, before folding back at his sides.
The dragon nestles regally atop the pile, fixing its gaze - the same bizarre, intimidating, wise gaze he had as a human - upon the young man now far below him. It seems to be waiting, patiently, for him to speak, and makes no motion to move from its perch.]
† Wis check of 14 to note the smell as that of fresh rainfall
/woke the dragon
[ Arthur stares up at the dragon, and there's none of the dizzying shock that came with the first revelation of his arrival here, though he feels that he's just seen something that few are given a chance to see, and his heart thrums in his chest as though on the eve of battle. ]
[ Arthur has faced down a dragon once before in his life, all fire and hatred swooping in vengeance from the sky, but this is nothing like the grey-green creature in his mind's eye. That encounter itself is spotty — they had quested for a Dragonlord, he remembers, but he had died. He thinks the dragon might have died too. He knows a lot of his people had died. But it had just been any other magical creature. If it had spoken, if it had been sentient, then he does not remember. ]
[ And he can't bring himself to feel betrayed, not when Wynn could hardly have shown or told him any point before here and now. Every step they'd taken from their first meeting — for Arthur's first meeting, at any rate — had been an arrow, pointing directly to this moment. ]
You're a dragon.
[ It's obvious, but saying it helps him cope. He looks over that mighty form with a warrior's eye, and abruptly wants to sit down. A deep breath. Another. ]
A dragon.
[ He's still just. Processing. ]
do you even know how hard it is not to make that joke every day
Yes.
It is ... easier and more practical to navigate this world in human form, and in the age where magic remained a well kept secret, it was a necessity of survival, as well.
But this is my true form.
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[ Arthur decides to just sit down before he falls down, kicking aside some stray coins and leaning back on his hands so he doesn't have to crane his neck. It's not as though a few feet is really going to matter given the situation. And it stops his legs from being able to beat a hasty retreat without any input from his brain. ]
[ He's really glad that Wynnefalshond seems to like him. Nevertheless, his voice is a bit pitchy. What can he even say? ]
Is that common in your homeland? Er, being a dragon?
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More common than in this land, but there have never been a great many dragons. Most of us who come to this world, however, are easily hunted and destroyed, whether we are good or evil.
[He snorts in thought, and what first appears to be smoke ejects from his nostrils - though after a moment of hanging there, it becomes evident that it's actually frost instead.]
Only my eldest knights and my Dragon's Claws share knowledge of what I am. I would ask, if you choose to join us, that you safeguard this knowledge as well.
† annnnd a spot check of 15 or more would allow Arthur to get over the gigantic dragon aspect long enough to spot what appears to be something of a scar on the dragon's left flank. It looks like a very large scale is missing, though the wound looks old.
Spot: 16 [18 -2]
[ Arthur's response is immediate. ]
No matter what, I shall not breathe a word of your secret.
[ Not that he's ever been good at dishonesty... but it doesn't seem like something that would come up in casual conversation. ]
[ And his eyes track that massive body, fascinated by seeing such an unlikely beast at close quarters. His gaze catches on that scar, wonders at what could wound such a creature. Though perhaps he has some idea. ]
You're the dragon in the artwork, aren't you?
[ Arthur tips his head to the side, eyes back on Wynn's again. ]
Fighting those creatures...
lmao, -2. /pats arthur's head
Some of the pieces are... historical. Others were inspired by the works of a prophet in the 14th century.
how else did Merlin get away with using magic while standing next to him so many times
[ Prophecy. That's interesting. ]
Those dark-skinned people were in many.
stop pointing out wynn's racism, arthur
One of them in particular. I believe he is meant to be one of their gods.
HAHAHA drow are so problematic
[ He is really hoping you are going to tell him it's symbolic, Wynn. ]
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I have my theories. [He shifts his weight slightly, coins rolling down the side of a mound, and clinking against the ground around Arthur] As you may imagine. The prophecy foretold of the greatest conflict this order would face, and leaves the outcome unclear, but foreboding.
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Does it say when this conflict is supposed to occur?
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[ Drippingly sardonic, though the bite of it isn't directed at Wynn. ]
Do you prepare your organization for such an eventuality?
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Makes sense.
[ Prophecy isn't exactly his wheelhouse, so he has no particular contribution himself. He shifts his weight on his hands, marveling at Wynn's size once more, but finally looking with the eye of a warrior, looking over his claws and wings and natural armour. He dreaded to think what would be a severe threat to a creature of this size. A god indeed. ]
You've given me a lot to think about. And a great deal else besides.
[ No matter how much Wynn may think he's repaying a debt owed, it doesn't feel that way to Arthur. He lifts his chin, as earnest as if they were the same size class. ]
I'd like to join your organization.
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Then I will take you as my own squire, to teach you our protocol and history, and introduce you to the discrepancies between this world and your own. [Again, he seems almost to smile, cocking his head, as if expecting Arthur to look a bit petulant about that.] A formality, the squiring ceremony, in your case, however the importance of it lies in taking an oath to this Order in the eyes of those who will serve beside you.
We grant even our squires the title of a Knight, so that they feel themselves not only to be a part of our organization from the beginning, but to recognize the responsibility and trust being placed upon them. Those who do not successfully complete their squiring period are stripped of their title, and denied full membership. For as much as we grant them freely, the rest they must earn through their own dedication and loyalty to this Knighthood.
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