Thanks Tad, that's a great story. Only thing, I'm not a Knight, although the difference appears to be pretty slight. I'll add this to my third story, but he is bound to a Lady by emotions (maybe enscrolled
) and not duty. I see him more as a personal champion rather than serving the whole court.
I'll try to do as well for Mordred.
Mordred Thulsson in "You did what!" guest staring Jack Nimble.
Mordred had been walking through a track of woods for the past hour and was getting frustrated. He had been told there were some cultist operating out of a park just outside of town. The local law hadn't done anything, because they apparently hadn't done enough to warrant arrest, but Mordred knew without a doubt that he needed to be here. He had only a few weeks before given up his body and soul in exchange for the power to fight against the evil he now saw all around him.
He pushed aside a branch only to be struck by a clump of snow. Swearing an oath, he stopped to brush off his chest. He was dressed for battle. He wore only his torc, a large cloak and a pair of leather and fur pants that came down to his knees. His upper body and face were covered in symbols that few in this modern world would recognize or understand, but that matter not at all to Mordred. The purpose of these runes were to honor his gods. They were a physical, visual testament of his faith.
Snow crunched under his think, heavy boots. The air was crisp and cold this wintery day, but the beserker ignored it. He was aware of the chill, of the danger it posed if he stayed out here to long, but he had been drawn here to preform his sworn duty. Suddenly, he heard the cry of two crows, as a couple came crashing out of the trees and into a small clearing in front of him.
Jack had just recently parted from a new found friend after saving the girl currently running at his side, only to be ambushed by yet more members of the cult. He had managed to avoid the trap, but was quickly becoming mentally and physically drained. The girl at his side was in a panic and she let out a scream when they ran in front of the large man dressed in furs and carrying a spear. Jack let out a growl of anger at his bad luck and tried to escape with his charge.
Mordred saw the man seeking to avoid him, but he would not let this cultist do what he pleased with the poor frighten girl he held so tightly in his clutches. Letting out a roar, he spirited towards the fleeing man and woman. His spear thrust out before him, but before Mordred could close to do battle the man pointed and a beam of pure light shot back at him. However, he was prepared for just such an attack. This is how the corrupt fought, fleeing when threaten, killing with indifference, but his gods would not allow this tainted magic to harm him. Strangely, Mordred realized the attack was not directed at him, but enveloped a tree off to his left. Then without warning the tree started to move. It reached out and grabbed him, seeking to restrain him, but to such a battle harden man action and thought were as one. He let his spear fly even as a branch circled his arm. Unfortunately, whether from the tree's grasp or the other man's own skill, the spear missed its mark and did not land a killing blow. The man has hurt enough to drop and lay crumpled in the snow, holding his side as blood seeped between his fingers.
When the girl leaped to impose herself between Mordred and his prey, he hesitated. Something was tugging at the back of his mind. The coat sleeve on the man's right arm, burst into flame, symbols appeared, glowing brightly. Mordred did not know their meaning, but he understood they had something to do with the fae. Dread filled his heart, was his purpose here to hunt cultist or something else? The man he had just injured wasn't who he thought he was and the girl trying so desperately to protect him, wasn't his hostage.
In his mind's eye he saw Old Garnard still alive and speaking to the boy he had once been. The priest's face bore a shocked expression and Mordred could hear him saying as clear as day, "You did what!".
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