[M/IC] The Lost Tales of Camelot: The Green Knight

[Rha'az]

This roleplay is rated M for Mature. There will be depictions of violence and bloodshed, gore, distressing/depressing situations, uses of profanity, alcohol, sensual situations and anything regarding the mature theme. Read at your own discretion.

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Prologue

The Men of Ma'arn

"How many are they?" asked Percival who stood upon a grassy hill, looking over at a beach. Behind him were a force of a few hundred strong with only small force of knights ready at his side. Down below, the warriors of Ma'arn disembarked their ships as they sailed from the nearby Broken Islands to the shores of Aronshire. He turned towards the scout, a young man not older than his mid twenties who looked at the approaching Ma'arnic warriors with his widened eyes. "This is way more than you said lad,"

The people of Ma'arn lets out a warcry, raising their swords and axes and spears as they organized their own men. Percival looked through the enemy's forces to find the King of Skulls himself but he is nowhere to be seen. Six hundred of them, he estimated. They carry no flags, no sigils upon their armor but only their faces painted or smeared with a black paint. Their eyes told the knight of their eagerness to take what was deep in the lands of Camelot as they roared in anger.

Percival drew his sword from its scabbard, a dark bladed bastard sword with golden ripples ran down its black steel like the surface of water. He saw them charged upon his own forces, "Form shield wall!" His orders met with a collective 'aye!' as a response from his men. Quickly, they stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder as their large shields are big enough to protect themselves. "Spears out!" He ordered. Spears lowered as they locked their shields, waiting in anticipation of the inevitable clash between the two armies.

The warriors of Ma'arn were no match against the might of Camelot steel. The moment the two forces clashed shields, the outcome of the battle has been decided despite the opposing force possesses a larger number than their own. As Percival ordered his cavalry units to flank the army, he began to charge through the lines and tore a bloody path through their ranks with his sword in his hands. He heard the sound of thunder, followed by flashes of white light. Percival looked around to see the bright sky above him and the white clouds that hangs over his head.

It was too late for him to realize that he was struck by a powerful bolt of lightning, throwing him off of his horse and down upon the ground. He gasps for air and as he regained his senses, he was lucky enough to survive the hit. He smelt the scent of smoke coming from the mark where the bolt had struck him, thankfully his armor had dissipated the energy and saved his life. "Magic," he said to himself. Percival stood up and kept a firm grip upon his sword as its blade was engulfed in purplish black flames.

With a single swing of his flaming sword, a large portion of the Ma'arnic warriors bursts into flames, the dark fires emited from Percival's sword began to consume their flesh and armor, tearing apart their skin. Their warcries turned into screams of agony and terror as some decided to run back onto their ships. Yet, as they do, only one man remained. He wore a cloak made of a wolf's fur and his eyes glow, his fingers began to spark and they skies turned dark as if the weather began to change.

Pillars of lightning struck down from the skis above, some managed to hit a significant portion of the Camelot soldiers while others merely missed their targets. But those who were unlucky, were destroyed by the powerful force of lightning. Without a moment to spare, Percival charged through the remaining forces of the Ma'arnic army and approached the sorcerer. The man unleashes a beam of pure lightning towards the knight but Percival's reflexes were too quick as he managed to raise his sword, refracting parts of the beam to his surroundings. The grass beneath his feet were caught in flames because of the magic conjured by the man and yet, Percival began to make his move.

He stepped aside, avoiding the beam entirely as Percival threw his flaming sword like a javelin. It cuts through the air with a blazing speed. One moment, the man was alive and conjuring large amounts of powerful magic to aid him. He was dead at the next, with Percival's dark bladed sword pierced through his throat as he dropped lifeless upon the ground. At that moment, his men erupted into a cheer of victory as they managed to prevail once again in the name of Camelot against the warriors of Ma'arn.

Yet, one thing remained in Percival's mind as his men celebrated their victory. How many more sorcerers are there in Ma'arn? Why do they attack Camelot?

Chapter 1: The Sun And Its Shadows

The city of Camelot

"That's the fourteenth time this month," said Galehaut, a large knight who stood a few heads taller than the average human. Known to many as the Giant Knight or rather...the Short Giant, he was the strongest among the knights of the Round Table and feared by many, but respected by Arthur himself. "Their attacks are getting more frequent," he said, clenching his fist as he leaned forward towards the round table.

"And they have wizards," Percival said, taking off his helm to reveal a rather young man with a solid jawline. He had a jet black hair almost dark as the shadows and his eyes carry the colors of the flames. He puts aside his helm and looked at Galehaut, "That's the first time I see them having a magic user. Who knows how many they have."

"Let's hope it's not too many," Gwayne said, putting his sheathed sword upon the table as he held his own helm in one hand. "The rest of the Round Table are very much occupied with the landings from Ma'arn. We needed to drive them out if we do not wish to see them raiding villages that far inland," he continued. "What do you think Arthur? What should we do?"

Arthur remained silent as he looked at the table. It was carved with the map of the continent itself, complete with the names of several mountain ranges and cities. Then his gaze is set upon the Broken Islands, located west of Camelot itself. "They have established a settlement on one of the islands right?" He asked.

Gwayne nodded and so does the other two knights that were present.

"We take our army there, bring down their walls and burn their buildings. If they build more than a single one, burn every city you can find and impri - "

"Arthur," Gwayne interrupted. His words made him concerned about the king. He turned to Galehaut and Percival whose eyes remained on Arthur's own, remaining silent after hearing what he said.

"It was just a joke, you three." He said, pulling himself away from the table and crossed his arms. "Can't you guys be less serious than usual?"

[bluemoon]

Edeva sat by the fire, using the tip of a small knife to clean the blood from under her short nails. The chopped meat from a freshly skinned rabbit lay by her knees, small pieces of onion and potato scattered beside it. She was deep in thought, or so it seemed, when she heard the familiar steps of her brother coming up behind her. A hand fell to her shoulder and she flinched, the blade digging into the soft flesh of her nail bed. Letting out a small squeak and immediately putting her finger in her mouth, she turned and looked up, a scowl on her lips. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that," she scolded, her gaze noticing the satchel he carried over his shoulder.

"...and you shouldn't play with sharp objects," Aldis countered, looking at her with mock concern. He paused for a moment, clearing his throat. "I was just coming to bid farewell."

She turned her back to him and scoffed, going back to cleaning her nails. "...and I'm jus' waitin' for dinner to cook itself."

"Don't be like that," he said, applying light pressure and turning her to him again. "I'll be back in three days. It's not that long. I need you to promise me you'll behave."

"I always behave," she said, shrugging her shoulder to get him to release his grip.

"No going off on your own to hunt for three days...or anything else. Chanse is in char..."

"Chanse is a donkey's butt," she interrupted.

"Besides that, Eva, promise me. No hunting." He crouched down, coming to her level to make her look him in the eye.

Eva looked down, shaking her head, only returning his gaze when his fingers went under her chin and lifted her head up again. She grumbled, then nodded. "I'll listen....and no huntin'." She said the last word with emphasis, knowing that was what her brother expected her to do. "Promise."

As Aldis rose, Eva stood also, following him to his horse to help him ready his mount. "Come back in two days," she urged. "Gettin' supplies can't take that long."

"I have other things to attend to," he replied.

"Like seein' her?" she prodded, lifting her eyebrow in a suggestive manner.

Aldis gave her an innocent smile then turned and mounted his horse, his hand lifting to signal his departure. "I'll bring a surprise for you," he said, digging his heels into the bay's side. Eva watched him ride away, shaking her head then turning back to the fire.

"Give 'er my love," she said softly, then turned to look at Chanse. As expected, he was watching her closely, always the faithful watchdog. He nodded to her, his blonde tresses pulled back in a loose ponytail. "Whatcha lookin' at?" she called, hating the fact that she was now under his wing.

"Did you get everything ready for the stew?" he asked in his deep baritone. He stood over six feet tall and seemed almost as wide. He was the muscle of the operation and only second to her brother in brains. She didn't care for him, never had. He seemed sneaky to her and a bit too full of himself. On top of that, he was also the cook.

"Yep, all cut up...obviously," she said, gesturing to the food.

His eyes fell to the waiting ingredients, then to her again. "Did you wash up?"

Eva sighed, then nodded. "Yes...I washed my hands!" She offered them up, turning them around to show him how clean they were.

"Good!" he stated. "Wouldn't hurt you to wash the rest." He added in a softer, mumbled voice and Eva just grunted, pretending not to hear his words. He wasn't exactly smelling of daisies either...and it was too cold to bathe anyhow.

She went over to her bedroll and sat down, looking at the pile of weapons she was supposed to sharpen tonight after dinner. She let out another deep sigh. It was going to be a long three days.

[Rha'az]

"We needed more men to guard the shores," said Galehaut as the tall knight crossed his arms, his large greatsword leans against the table. "They are coming in large numbers, some of their forces already defeated our own and began making settlements along the coastline." He continued, pointing along the shores of Aronshire as he trailed his finger down to Lordspire, close to Irongaunt. "Luckily for us, these bastards won't get close to Lord Rhoyse's castle,"

"But for how long?" Percival asked. "If we needed more men, recruitment and training took a lot of time. The Ma'arnic warriors would attack at any moment. They are unpredictable. Ever since this...King of Skulls claimed the Broken Islands, we have faced a difficult situation." He continued, he leaned against the tables with his eyes set upon the southern kingdoms of the continent. "We could hire a few mercenary companies from the south. Or perhaps even a few from the distant lands of Essarch and Moiairon," he suggested.

Gwayne remained silent, thinking of the options that has been proposed. Hiring a mercenary would prove quite beneficial in the defense of Camelot's shores, "But hiring sellswords would cripple our finances is it not? Besides, some of them are known to be oath breakers, fleeing from battle during times of desperate need." He said, crossing his arms as he glances over them.

Arthur looked to Gwayne, his arms crossed as he stood beside Galehaut and Percival. "Then what do you suggest, Lord Gwayne? Even if Camelot has that wealth, we are not sure if we could afford not one but several mercenary companies to protect our lands."

Gwayne pulled himself away from the table and placed a hand upon his sword as he begins to think of a viable option. He was never a tactician like Percival or even Lancelot nor was he a strong knight Galehaut. But then he remembered a figure in his life, one that possesses an unnatural ability but perhaps much more deadlier than even Percival's flames. "I have an old friend that could help us," he said to them.

[bluemoon]

Edeva's empty bowl sat by her side as she picked up a sword and examined the blade's edge closely. She had a few hours work ahead of her, but sharpening the weapons was one of her jobs and she took particular pride in the task. It was actually something she enjoyed, as it gave her time to be alone with her thoughts--not that there was a lot for her to be working through at present, but the men were having a discussion that she was not included in at the moment. She carefully arranged her tools, and picking up a file she proceeded to shape the sword's edge, first along one side, then turning it and repeating the procedure. Once she finished the first step, she took out her whetstone and pulled the length of the blade down it, essentially polishing the edge to smooth out the rough spots.

As she worked, she eavesdropped, learning that three of the men were going out to scout in the morning. She was unsure of their intentions, but Oakes would be staying behind, most likely to keep an eye on her. Of course, that was not how they would present it. Her brother didn't want her to be taking risks when he was not around to protect her, especially with the talk of the Ma'arn recently, and these buffoons were always getting into trouble when he was away. So she would stay behind and "guard" the camp with the one man that she personally thought she could beat in a fight. Oakes only stood an inch above her and she was sure she outweighed the scrawny man. His only real attribute was his blood lust--he never backed down on a kill. It kind of made him endearing--like a little rat attacking a wolf. As for Eva, her smaller stature allowed her to move through crowds easily, mostly unnoticed, as she wove around the bodies, taking purses along the way. She scoffed as she picked up an oiled cloth and rubbed the blade's edge, setting the weapon down as she picked up another. It was a slow and arduous task, but her skill was evident in the way the weapon's performed and the length of time they remained sharp.

Eva lastly pulled out her short sword which she had strapped to her thigh in its scabbard. Its hilt was wooden, with archaic symbols carved into the surface. Where her hand gripped it, rope had been wrapped to allow for a more secure grip. It was leaf-shaped and had sharp edges along both sides, tapering to a sharp end. Good for both thrusting and cutting, it had seen a bit of both in her short career as a thief. It was the only weapon she was really proficient with, the others being too unwieldy for her. She also carried small razor-sharp knives in straps around her wrists, but they were used for cutting purse strings, not really requiring any skill. When she finally finished with her blade, she pulled her bed roll closer to the fire and lay down on her side. The men were just finishing the last of their drink and were preparing to retire as well. With little else to occupy her time, Eva closed her eyes and shut out their noise, wondering what kind of surprise her brother was going to bring her when he returned.

[Rha'az]

It was on the next morning when Gwayne decided to leave Camelot in search of his "friend" to aid them in the subsequent invasions from Ma'arn. He wore a black segmented plate armor with the symbol of a sun emblazoned upon its metallic pieces and steel gauntlets with dark grey sleeves. His sword hung on his hip, strapped around him with a cracked leather belt, with several pouches for keeping a few potions and herbs, essential for the trip ahead. Upon the rising of the sun on the next day, he felt a surge of energy rushed through his veins and approached his personal steed.

"Are you sure about this?" Percival queried as he accompanied Gwayne to the stables earlier that morning. "It's been a few years since you chopped his head off," he continued. His brass armor gleamed underneath the ray of the bright morning sun, with a few pieces of it already charred by his own black flames.

"I'm absolutely sure that Bertilak would help us in our efforts against Ma'arn. Besides, he had an oath to keep." Gwayne replied, pulling himself to mount on his gray stallion. "May the gods be on our side," He said, turning to Percival as he gripped on the reins of his horse.

The knight nodded in response, "And to you, my friend. Now go and find Bertilak."

And so, he rode with haste. From the city of Camelot to the southern lands of the kingdom. Day and night, his horse galloped with such speed, racing through the hills and into the depths of the forests that lies far from the great capital. As the sun settles upon the horizon and the scattered gems of the skies began to appear and glitter in the distance, Gwayne halted and made a campfire to settle for night. He sat beneath a tree and pulled out a piece of bread, looking into the flickering flames that illuminates the surrounding area.

The tall and brown haired knight leaned against the tree, keeping a hand upon the pommel of Angheliar - his trusted longsword passed down from generation to generation. He had to be prepared for any threats even if he is a knight of the Round Table. There are unknown things that lurked within the shadows, his power waned when the moon rises into the sky. A single thrust of a sharp dagger would certainly be fatal. Yet, he remained calm and looked upon the starry skies with his eyes that glitter like ice in the pale light of the moon.

[bluemoon]

The day had been uneventful, Edeva and Oakes finding ways to make the time pass while they were strapped with each other's company. They sparred for a few hours, each one equally matched and winning a few rounds apiece. Eva used "girly" ways to add an advantage--pulling hair, scratching, and biting--but it was considered a win none-the-less. After they had themselves a good laugh, they gathered wood and picked edibles, arguing over which mushrooms were safe and finally deciding to leave them all be. When the others still had not returned by dinner, they reheated the remaining stew and ate in silence. By the time darkness veiled the camp, they were both on their bed rolls, Eva dosing and Oakes watching the area with half-closed eyes.

It was the sound of hoof beats that awoke Eva. She stirred, then sat up, watching as Chanse, Egbert, and Jaxon dismounted, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Immediately they came over, and Chanse nodded to Oakes. "We had some luck today. Found us a likely mark on our way back from scouting. A lone rider. And with the handsome steed he was riding, I am sure he is heavy with coin. You two will need to prepare yourselves 'cause we head out first thing in the morning."

Eva started to protest, but Chanse looked sternly at her. "It's an easy job girl and your brother wouldn't mind the extra coin. Only thing is, I need you to be a distraction. The rider needs to be off his horse for this to work."

"I don't do distraction..." she countered and Chanse only shook his head.

"Tomorrow you will...and I will give you twice your share for it."

Giving in with reluctance, Eva stood and brushed at her skirt to smooth it. "What's the plan then?" She didn't want to argue...or rather she did but thought better of it...but was afraid that things were not going to be as easy as anticipated.

"I'm still thinking on your part, but I'll tell you in the morn. As for you Oakes," he said motioning to the smaller mousy man, "I can use your special skills on this one. We don't want this man to be walking around after we take his things. It'll be easier to sell his goods and spend his coin if he is...missing." With a snicker, Oakes nodded. "Yes sir...I can make him missing," he agreed.

The men walked further from Eva, leaving her alone to discuss their parts in the plan, well out of her earshot. They spoke in whispers and several times she saw them glance in her direction. Despite how hard she tried, she could not hear what they were saying, which only meant it could only be bad news in regards to her part in the game that would unfold in the morning.

------------

Dawn came early and when Eva awoke, the men were already up and gathering their weapons. She quickly pulled on her boots and drank from the stream, splashing water on her face. When she turned to the fire, she was surprised to see it was not lit and no food was cooking. She looked up to Chanse as her stomach growled and he frowned, shaking his head. "We'll eat when we're done...need to get to the road afore we lose our chance." She turned to get her horse when Chanse yelled to her again. "We're walking, now get a move on."

And so it was that Eva arrived at the designated spot where she was to act as a distraction. It was the perfect spot--the road curved before her and she wouldn't be visible until the last moment. She fidgeted, looking at the men and noticing the way they averted their gazes. "What's goin' on?" she asked as Chanse put his hand on her shoulder. She flinched, then jerked as he yanked down on her blouse, tearing it at the sleeve. "Hey...ya' know I hate sewin', wha..."

"I'm sorry," Chanse interrupted, then frowned as he pulled his arm back. Eva didn't have time to react, but she knew what was coming a second before the large man's fist hit her square in the mouth. Her lower lip split, blood running down her chin as she backpedaled a few steps. Her expression turned to one of anger and as soon as she regained her balance she lunged for him. His only recourse was to strike her again, an unplanned attack, to keep her on the road as planned. This time Eva did go down, his heavy blow taking her on the cheek and spinning her around...and down.

Anger turning to fury, Edeva struggled to get to her feet. Now she knew why she had not been informed of the plan for her. If Chanse survived this affair, she was going to kill him at her first opportunity. She groaned--her face tight, her cheek already swelling. Making it to one knee, with one hand supporting her weight, she paused, hearing the sound of a horse and rider. She lifted her head slowly while trying to control the pain, her expression rapidly changing from one of anger to one of surprise...then to amusement. She laughed, the sound soft, but unmistakable. This wasn't a "lone rider"...this was a confounding KNIGHT! How could Chanse expect to defeat a knight, even with four men? Watching with dread, Eva followed the tall man's movements as his leg swung over the saddle and his feet hit the sandy road. She lifted her skirt and with her free hand yanked her short sword out, brandishing the weapon before her.

"Turn back," she mouthed, both to the stranger and the thieves waiting to attack. The only smart move would be for the men to return to camp and give up this fool's errand--even if it meant leaving her here to fend for herself. It was the smartest move, but Chanse was not smart when it came to coin, he was greedy, and reckless. And just to prove her point, she heard his voice scream out the word, "Attack!", and from the shelter of the trees, four men rushed, two from each side, weapons held high and coin fever in their eyes.

[Rha'az]

At the next rising of the sun, he rode upon his stallion and made his way out of the forests towards the road. There was no time indeed for mere pleasantries, to head for a tavern or towards a small town nearby. The threat of Ma'arn increases by the moment and as the hours passed, he could only pray to the great Twelve that the advance of the barbaric warriors were halted by the might of Camelot's legions. Yet, Percival's words report that stated that magic users are within their ranks are more than enough to turn the tide of battle with ease. Even he himself knew that magic is dangerous for humans. Nevertheless, he rode towards the direction of the Emerald Chapel where he'd find Bertilak there, the infamous Green Knight.

The path that stretched before curved around the tall trees and Gwayne kept a close eye upon the woods. He heard of travellers and merchants finding themselves getting attacked by notorious bandits and outlaws who seek for gold and precious loot, all for the sake of wealth. Dishonorable bastards, he'd label them. As he made a turn, his eyes saw a girl upon the road, bloodied and bruised with her clothes torn in a few parts. "By the gods," he mumbled to himself and slow down his horse, approaching her. He dismounted from his steed, kneeling on one knee to inspect her wounds. "Are you alright lady?" He asked. "Who did this? Was it the Ma'arnic warriors?" He wondered. If the warriors had made it this far into the land then Gwayne would have little time to gather a formidable force to stop their advance.

She lifted her skirt and with her free hand yanked her short sword out, brandishing the weapon before her. "Turn back," she mouthed.

Gwayne's eyes widened at the sight of her blade. "It's going to be - " the voice of a man broke the silence of the trees. In an instant, several figures emerged from the shadows, armed with deadly weapons as they charged forth from the woods. He took a final gaze at the skies, silently thanking the gods for having the sun rising from the horizon. A surge of energy course through his veins and unsheathed Angheliar. Its blade glowed as pale as milkglass and Gwayne held it in his hands, turning to the girl, "GO!" He ordered as one of them swung their crude weapons with the intention of ending his life.

Angheliar clashed with one of their swords, the sheer might of Gwayne's swing shattered the steel of the blade as its shards flew towards the ground. He drove his fist upon the man's face, sending him backwards towards the ground. Gwayne eyed for the next attacker, he noticed that they were fighting with such recklessness unlike those of the Ma'arnic warriors who fought a deadly yet brutal grace. Their crude skill with the blade proved them to be mere outlaws who hungers for gold and wealth. He took his time dodging and shattering their own swords with a quick swing of Angheliar.

[bluemoon]

Oakes was down and Chanse weaponless, yet the thieves pushed on, attacking the knight with abandon. Egbert and Jaxon joined forces, coming at the stranger together, Egbert swinging an axe and Jaxon thrusting with his sword. Their coordinated attack was clumsy and apprehension was starting to show in their movements. Through all this, Edeva remained motionless, ignoring the knight's command and watching her fellows fall around her. As the knight wielded his weapon with ease, she couldn't help but notice it's inner light and she found herself draw to it, marveling at the way it chewed through their inferior weapons like a dog at a bone. Shaking herself, she finally managed to turn away and come to her feet, a wave of dizziness causing her to pause.

Fight or flee? Edeva wondered. Neither choice appealed to her, and with Oakes and Chanse defeated and the other two soon to follow, that would only leave her. She was not a coward, nor was she a fool. Even if the man still believed her innocent, that would soon enough change. Better to be prepared for his assault then let him sneak up on her while she tried to make camp. So against her better judgment, she turned to the fight, coming up on the knight from the rear and lifting her blade.

[Rha'az]

He saw the other two band together and lunge forward as a singular unit. For a slight moment, Gwayne admired them for cooperating to fight against him but they were outlaws nonetheless. He swung Angheliar downwards and shattered the steel of the man's sword before his hand grabbed the man's throat, slamming him down to the ground. Another one aimed for Gwayne's head with his axe, roaring as the man swung his weapon in a flat arc with the intention of splitting the knight's head open.

Gwayne managed to duck and narrowly avoided the deadly blow as he swings Angheliar down to the ground. Its sharp blade cuts through the man's right shin and severed a part of his leg, dropping him to the ground as he screamed in pain and agony. The knight stood up and wiped off the blood from Angheliar. Four of them he counted, all dealt with a non-lethal blow - hopefully.

He heard her as she screamed, charging forth with her own sword as she seemed to aim Gwayne's heart. The girl was too close for him to block her attack with Angheliar but he needed to stop her from killing him. Gwayne raised a hand to block the stab but her strike was as swift as the wind, her sword pierced through his palm and stopped when his hand reached for its crossguards. "By the gods, you were with them," he said dryly as he pushed her towards his horse with his own injured hand. "Bloody hell," he pulled the sword away and dropped to the ground.

***

It has been a few days since Gwayne left the vicinty of Camelot and the matters regarding the Ma'arnic invasions only seemed to grow worse. Percival had been the commander of a few of the Iron Legions, a heavy burden rests upon his shoulders as he begins to think of a solution to prevent more of these landings upon the shores of the kingdom. "Have you got anything to report to me?" He queried to a man next to him as he walked into Camelot's castle walls.

"12th Legion has been engaging with the barbarians. Praise to the gods that they do not suffer severe casualties when facing against Ma'arn." He responded as he picked up Percival's pace, keeping a hand upon his short sword strapped around him with a leather belt. The man wore a segmented plate armor with a tabard that carries the emblem of Dragonstorm.

"What about the 13th?" He asked as he passed through the courtyard, filled with the soldiers that make up the Iron Sentinels who guards the city and its surrounding lands. Three hundred of them have been selected from the legions who fought at the front lines, all have the privilege to become the elite soldiers who are expected to follow the king into war.

"No word coming from Captain Damocles, my lord," he replied with a worrying tone. "It has been a few weeks since the last Ma'arnic attack upon the Lonely Fort,"

"Bastards," Percival cursed as he clenched his fist. "At this rate, they'd be marching close to the Dragonspire or even Irongaunt." He continued. "Have some soldiers from the 9th bolster the defenses of the 12th, make it quick."

"At once my lord,"

Moments later, Percival entered the War Room where he finds a few of the members of the Round Table have been gathered. He heard their voices as he approached, discussing about the matters of the realm and more importantly, the Ma'arnic invasions. Arthur was present at the hall, looking down at the map carved upon the table. The situation was tense, the Black Dragon heard one of them suggested an all out assault upon the Broken Islands, some opted for an assassination.

The king lifted his gaze and saw Percival approached, "Ah, Percival. Have your 12th Legion meet up with the 8th at Irongaunt," he said, crossing his arms.

His eyes widened, Irongaunt is further away from the shores near the Broken Islands and located far south down the kingdom. It was heavily defended as if it was the fortress itself is designed to withstand invasions, "Pardon me, my king but why? The shores near the Broken Islands should be guarded and fortified with our men. Having the 12th Legion head over to Irongaunt would only make the jobs of these invaders much easier to raid more of our villages!" He said. "Why not just have the - "

"The Iron Sentinels shall be taking the 12th's position." Arthur interrupted. "We shall mount an offensive assault in three weeks upon the Broken Islands. That's why I need more men to be a part of this." He continued. "We sail off the coast of Irongaunt and head for the Islands."

But the Iron Sentinels won't be enough to defend against the Ma'arnic warriors! he wanted to shout. He himself knew that the warriors from the Islands won't concentrate their attention in attacking a single place along the coastline. Three legions under his command, having already lost communication with one of them is considered a bad news. Relocating the 12th Legion would mean weakening the fortified position set at the coasts near Camelot. Percival turned to Galehaut.

The Giant Knight shrugged, "I tried." He mouthed and shook his head.

Percival sighed, "I hope you know what you're doing, Arthur,"

"King Arthur." He corrected. "And I know what I'm about to do," he leaned forward and his eyes remained upon the map.

[bluemoon]

Edeva almost lost her balance...again...as she tried to recover from the knight's shove. She looked down at her empty hand, confusion setting in for only a second as she realized what had happened to her sword. Embedded in the man's hand, she had let go of the hilt when the blade fully penetrated the flesh of his palm. She wasn't sure of her next move...she had not expected to draw blood...but a cry from one of her fallen comrades drew her from her stupor.

"Finish him! What are you waiting for Eva. Kill the bastard!"

It was Chanse, and he was rising from the ground and screaming to her. She could see him, his arm danging limply as he struggled to his feet, his face red with rage. Near him Oakes still lay motionless while Jaxon tended to Egbert's leg, wrapping a tourniquet around it to stem the blood flow. That left only her, but still she shook her head in refusal. The only weapons available to her were the small blades strapped to her wrists but they would require close contact. It was a risk she wasn't going to take, but even with that thought in her mind, she took two steps closer to the knight when Chanse yelled at her again.

Clutching his wounded arm to him, Chanse scowled at Eva and began to advance on his own, closing the gap. He had never been defeated by a single man and his pride was getting in the way of his good sense. He scooped up Egbert's Axe and charged...his first strike easily blocked. When he swung again, his attack was thwarted, the knight raising his weapon and striking a blow that fell the thief. As blood began to flow from the deep wound, Eva let out a cry of despair, her eyes darting from the knight to the defeated four. She suddenly felt as though she couldn't move, her feet firmly rooted. She narrowed her eyes and clenched her hands and with a flick of her wrists, a blade appeared in each palm. Finally she settled her stony gaze on the only real threat, that of Lord Gwayne.