behindcloseddoors | prologue ♔ passion or coincidence once prompted you to say

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Arthur makes equally curious eye contact with the other man but keeps following Wynn. He isn't intimidated by the grandeur, which is white and open and far more what he's used to that he expected. ]

I'm not surprised. Doing right by others isn't exactly something that goes out of fashion.

[ Wynn might have thought he could just slip that past Arthur, but it rings alarm bells enough that he catches up in order to look across, with sharp eyes. ]

What do you mean by that? What else is there, besides mankind? I doubt a horse has much interest in chivalry.

Even in your time, there was talk of other beings in the world. Creatures of the woods, the seas, the earth: like men, but not like men. Older. Different. [They pass down the long corridor, lined with standing suits of armor, tapestries depicting medieval scenes, and some displaying paintings of various Arthurian tales, of course.] Men like you aren't the only things to have come through the Veil.

You mean magical creatures.

[ Arthur narrows his eyes. ]

I thought that was what you said your Order fought.

I said that we fight evil magical creatures that threaten this land.

There are evil men, as well, who would do ill to magical creatures in your predicament, who mean only good. Just as we seek to stop evil from entering the world of men, we seek to protect these creatures from the evil men do.

[ Arthur's mouth twists. "Good magical creatures" seems like a bit of an oxymoron to him. ]

As I've never met a magical creature who did not mean me harm, I find it hard to believe—

[ He cuts himself off. ]

No, that's not wholly true. I think there was a unicorn, once.

[ He glances over at Wynn. Okay, he'd fight on behalf of a unicorn. ]

[Wynn just looks vaguely entertained by the talk of unicorns, but says nothing as he pauses in front of the gigantic painting taking up a large space on the right hand wall, depicting warring angels and demons. There's a small card in his hand abruptly, that seems to have appeared out of nowhere, and he swipes it through a narrow groove on the glass case hanging on the wall beside the artwork. The case opens, and he turns the unusual bright red canister inside as if it were a handle, prompting a loud clanking sound that seems to resound from the panels within. As he closes the case again, the painting swings slowly away to reveal a stone hallway, with high ceilings but narrow in width, lit by only torches.

The painting closes behind them, sealing them in with the strange series of paintings tapestries, rugs, artifacts, carvings, and more hang over every inch of either wall, weaving an unusual story. There is imagery that seems to evoke scenes from Camelot: Arthur himself, a wizened wizard with a long white beard accompanying him, a beautiful fair queen, knights in battle, the Round Table, Excalibur, the Holy Grail. But these make up only a small part of the mosaic, the rest seeming to detail the history of the Knighthood itself. Knights throughout time do battle against all kinds of those 'evil magical creatures' Arthur was just talking about in scenes of bloodshed, battle, triumph.

One image repeats itself in various locations: a gigantic silver dragon battling alone against armies of dark skinned pointy-eared warriors, or, in some cases, just fighting one of these warriors in particular, a larger than life wicked looking caricature in spiked armor.

But amid the battle scenes are others as well: knights bending knee in front of what looks like a goddess, planting a tree in what appears to be a garden, reclaiming artifacts, helping the sick and weak. The only text that appears in the hallway hangs above the pair of wide sealed doors at far end, where the creed of the Knighthood is written in bold lettering:

Thou Shalt Defend the Knighthood.
Thou Shalt respect all Weaknesses, and Shalt constitute thyself the Defender of them.
Thou Shalt not recoil before thine Enemy.
Thou Shalt make War against Injustice, without Cessation and without Mercy.
Thou Shalt never lie, and shall remain Faithful to thy pledged Word.
Thou Shalt be Generous, and listen to and Respect All.
Thou Shalt be Everywhere and Always the Champion of the Right and the Good against Injustice and Evil.

Wynn walks past these images in quiet contemplation, eyes raking over the long history flanking them on either side. He speaks quietly, thoughtfully.]

I imagine there is much that you will find difficult to believe. But that does not lessen the reality of any of it.

[ It's with widened eyes that Arthur walks through the whole. It is unparalleled as the surrealist experience of Arthur's life. Some things ring true, and others do not, and others only serve to highlight the gaps in his memory. Excalibur he knows, and he's see that round table before, though he couldn't say where. The people who surround the depiction of a man obviously meant to be him are wholly unfamiliar. But none of that matters, because it's the fact of them, that he was so important, so resonant, that someone took the time to weave and paint and forge these artworks that tell his story. ]

Did you collect these?

[ It's asked only as a curiosity. If Wynn has lived a long time, likely he's had ample opportunity to commission and patron and purchase, but that's not what interests Arthur. The dedication to a man he hasn't become yet is painfully clear. Just what is Wynnefalshond expecting of him? For the first time Arthur wonders how Wynn came to be in Winchester at the perfect time. ]

[ But he doesn't ask; is too busy reading the bold text now, which is more than just the code of Camelot, the good practice he asks of his knights; it's a list of rules that Arthur has striven to have guide him in life. Seeing his morality all written down like this it's a little unnerving. ]

[Wynn glances once at Arthur's expression.] Something of an idle hobby.

[As he nears the doors at the end of the hall, they open, as if of their own accord, revealing a much more brightly lit chamber beyond.

The room houses an incredibly large, thick, wooden table constructed in the round, surrounded by at least twenty five chairs. Rising from the center from the table is a massive statue that appears to be made of glass or crystal, depicting a dragon in flight. Suspended in the center of the statue is an only too familiar looking sword, that looks as if it's merely hovering there because of the statue's transparent nature. The statue ascends towards the vaulted ceiling as if it means to break free and soar out of the room, creating a very otherworldly aspect to the setting. There are two other large doors on the exact opposite end of the room, very tall and heavy looking, and covered in designs of gold leaf.

He pauses a few steps into the room, lifting his eyes towards the dragon and falling silent again, as if this all says more than he ever could with words.]

[ Arthur's hand immediately goes to the hilt of his sword, just as it had when Wynn had first called his name — but now for very different reasons. Another step and he's moving past the other, towards the table; he notes the inscriptions carved their, the ancient heaviness of the wood, but he really only has eyes for the suspended sword. ]

How is that possible!

The same way, I imagine, that it's possible you are here in the first place.

[But he doesn't want to go confusing Arthur again with more talking about parallel universes, so he just continues to look up at it and offer something of an explanation for... why he has one, at least.]

It would have been a shame for such a powerful artifact to be lost to the sands of time.

[ Arthur draws his own, the sound ringing even in the vault of a room, and examines it skeptically. Even the inscription on the blade is the same: he runs his fingers lightly over cast me away, though he cannot read it. ]

Powerful artifact.

[ All right, so he remembers pulling it from stone, which isn't really where one normally gets swords, but if anybody mentioned it was more than high-quality steel then he's forgotten. ]

(screened comment)

Well.

[ Talk about needing to read the manual. Arthur holds up Excalibur as he once had when drawing it from stone, the blade pointing to the ceiling, looking at it and, before him, the sword suspended in glass. ]

[ His eyes are bright with a strange sort of pride, and passion too. To command the soul of a kingdom... he has never needed a sword. ]

And now there are two.

Yes. [He says the word quietly, obviously trying to sort out the meaning of such for himself.]

But the sword in my possession remains where it is for a reason. I am not its wielder, merely its keeper. It waits for a King who deserves to carry it.

Yours has already found one.

[ Arthur resheathes his sword, flattered and trying to be gruff about it. ]

So you're just going to store it inside a glass dragon until then? Doesn't exactly seem safe. If all you say is true, it's not a weapon you'd want in your enemy's hands.

There is nowhere safer than this chamber. [He sounds perfectly confident about the fact, and it doesn't sound at all like a boast] The sword is protected by heavy magic and cannot simply be removed by anyone. [DOES THAT SOUND FAMILIAR]

Better a dragon in a mansion than a stone in the middle of a forest, I suppose.

[ He's a bit unsure about this magic business, and decides it's time fora question that's been plaguing him.

So would I be correct in thinking the use of magic is not a criminal act anymore?

Not in most places in this world. You must understand: magic is not a constant in this realm. There are times where the magic drains from the land, that sometimes span many years. During these eras, mankind has often let itself forget the truth behind magic's very existence, letting it take its place among their fables and legends, but not as part of their history. [He halts in front of the gold doors on the far side of the room, turning to face Arthur again]

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.

[ Arthur's lips thin as he chews this over. His father had instated laws against magic, and his parents had died from magic, and his sister had left him because of her magic. Arthur cannot remember much more than those simple facts, but it is enough to make him dubious, fuel a fear that is almost instinctive. He cannot find appreciation or respect within himself when he thinks of sorcery. ]

[ 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.

[Wynn studies his expression, with something like concern knitting his brow for the briefest moment, but he nods slightly]

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.

Two...

[ 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.

Edited (every time amber spells wynn's name wrong, take a shot) 2012-02-14 09:12 (UTC)

I have no reason to jest.

♬ 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]

[ The light is overwhelming, and Arthur looks away, his heart heavy in his throat. Wynn precedes him, and by the time he looks, the man is already reaching the corner and rounding it. ]

[ 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. ]

[The right hand passage of the corridor leads down towards a wide-set pair of columns that appear to open into a large well lit circular room, though it seems entirely void of any furnishings from the angle visible.

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~~]

[ Arthur knows there are vaults under Camelot that look like this, treasure dumping grounds that nobody has managed to sort or organize, but none so vast or rich. Hedonistic though Arthur can occasionally be, he's not a man given to avarice, but regardless, gold is gold, and the sheer wealth of the room overwhelms him for a moment. ]

[ 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.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

well this reply sure fast-tracked my character sheet. Reflex: 17

yw C:

no subject