The story about to commence takes place one month after the events of the movie. The tale does not center on King Arthur; nor does it include Bors and his brood. If you find it Mary Sueish, oh well, this is entirely for my enjoyment. This is a crossover tale for King Arthur's knights and the land of Faerun. There will be romance, as well as action, adventure, pain, triumph, blood, and glory. The knights of Arthur will be entering a world they never knew existed; a world similar to the fairytales they grew up hearing, but not everything in this world is a happy ending. Monsters only dreamed of, races only imagined; surrounded by magic, might, and mystery we'll see how our brave knights make new friends, new enemies, and begin new lives…
The old man hobbled across the grassy field chuckling madly to himself. The night was clear and still as dawn approached, a rare evening for Briton. "First things, first, yes, yes, first things first…" he mumbled. The man spared one quick glance to the small cemetery and kept moving forward. He made it to the open tavern and almost grinned gleefully. "Right where we knew they'd be; yes, right there."
For the most part the tavern was quiet. Most of the patrons had retired to their rooms and were sleeping off their drink. Two men however still sat at a table, mugs of ale in front of them, and somber expressions on their faces; neither looked up as he entered and approached.
Both men were attractive, not that the old man really noticed, but women certainly would. The older of the two had long blonde hair that was tousled and braided in some areas. Icy blue eyes were surrounded by thick, blonde lashes, and at least a week of scruff covered his cheeks and chin. The second man had shorter dark hair that curled recklessly. He too was scruffy, but the eyes that now turned to the man were a jade green.
"Is there something you're needing help with Sir?" The brunette asked using the term to show respect for the elderly man. He was quite odd looking in the younger man's opinion. The man's hair was still black, yet it was liberally streaked with the white and gray of old age. His nose was large and hooked downward, and his eyes were a muddy brown and deep set in his leathery face. The man wore black robes belted with a brown sash, and carried a wooden walking stick that was as tall as his head.
The old man grinned and it wasn't difficult to see the tinge of insanity burning in his eyes. "Am needing the help of Arthur's Knights. Dagonet, Galahad, Gawain, Lancelot, and Tristan."
The blonde man stood. "I'm afraid you won't be able to find everyone on that list good sir." He murmured.
The man frowned. "Must."
"You have found Galahad and Gawain. Our brethren have passed from this world." The brunette threw a look at his companion.
"Have a quest, a very important quest that must be fulfilled!" the man almost snapped. "Take me to them."
Gawain, the blonde man, didn't like the old man's tone, but he also wanted to get this over with so he could drink some more. "Come then, we shall take you to our brothers' graves."
The three men made the short walk to the cemetery and the old man stood staring at the three graves with a frown. He poked his stick at the spot where Lancelot had been burned. "Still enough, but won't be easy." He said crossly pointing his finger at the other two as if everything were their fault. The man began digging through a pouch on his belt and brought out a vial filled with liquid so blue it was almost black. He chuckled, "Been working on this one for years." He whispered conspiratorially. The man then proceeded to empty one third of the bottle onto each grave of Lancelot, Tristan, and Dagonet, until the bottle was empty. Galahad and Gawain weren't sure what was happening. Had the man just desecrated their friends' final resting places? "Domine skrash veil lero!" He practically shouted.
The man put the empty vial back into his pouch and sighed. He rubbed his hands together, coughed once, stared at the ground, and then sighed again. After several moments of complete silence it was Gawain's turn to sigh. "Okay old man, time to go. We'll get you a nice warm place to sleep…" as he began to move forward to take the man's arm the ground began to tremble. He fell back a step with his hand automatically going to his axe. Galahad had taken a similar stance and was currently drawing his sword.
A thick, nauseating mist had risen from the ground and hung there as the trembling continued. "By the Gods what is happening?" Galahad murmured in horror. The ground over the graves was breaking, and the ashes, all that was left of Lancelot was swirling in the air. Thunder clapped in the once quiet air, and a flash of lightning illuminated the area.
The mist finally began to clear and the old man waved it away from him while coughing. "Gotta work on the smell next." He muttered and brushed off his robes.
Gawain dropped to his knees as he looked at where the mist had been the thickest. Something he'd thought to never see again. Lancelot, Tristan, and Dagonet lay on the ground as if sleeping. Their chests rose up and down as breath moved their bodies. All wore their armor, and all held the weapons they'd carried in life. Galahad too was in shock. "What dark sorcery is this?" his voice came out hoarsely.
"Told you I had need." The old man sighed in exasperation. "Not much use to me dead now are they?"
Slowly the men who'd moments before been dead began to wake. Lancelot, the last to die, was the first to become conscious. His eyes blinked open drowsily. "What has happened?" his voice was rough with disuse.
"Get up! Get up! Don't have all day you know." The old man snapped and began mumbling under his breath. The only words the men could hear were 'looking……..players….game….women…can't wait'. None of it made sense to them. The old man waited impatiently as Lancelot began to stand with Gawain's assistance. Galahad moved forward to check on Tristan who was waking, and then Dagonet. Once everyone was standing, all looking extremely confused, the man clapped his hands. "Splendid! We're ready for our journey."
"We must tell Arthur!" Gawain was caught between rejoicing and fear.
"And Bors of course!" Galahad added. Tristan was staring around himself not understanding what had happened. Galahad clapped a hand onto Tristan's shoulder. "It is glad I am to have you all back with us." The younger man began to walk and walked straight into an invisible barrier. "What the bloody hell is this?"
"Didn't go to all this trouble so that you could walk away boy!" The old man looked at Galahad as if he was daft. The man began to mutter under his breath once more, but this time it was obviously some sort of chanting. The barrier around them started becoming visible as it shimmered with blue and purple colors. It was as if someone had cut a hollow sphere in half and had dropped one half on top of the group. All five men began feeling a strange tugging in the depths of the stomachs, and they were becoming lightheaded. Dagonet tried to move forward to stop the old man but he was jolted with electricity as soon as he touched him. He fell to the ground clutching his hand. "Magic over might boy, magic over might!" Now he cackled crazily. "As if you could defeat Halaster Blackcloak!" were the last words the men heard before a blinding white light exploded over them.
They walked the dark cavern hallways as silent as possible. This was no easy task. Several of the party members wore full plate, and they were all weary from their weeks under the mountain. Bloody and gritty from fighting Drow, Trolls, Bugbears, and gods only knew how many Duergar, the five women trudged on hoping they'd find their escape from this pit of hell soon. Two redheads, one raven, one chestnut, and one blonde made up the party. One of the redheads, and the blonde were human, the other three were elfkind.
The smallest of the group moved forward to the wooden door set into the stone hallway. Her fingers were nimble and clever as they moved over the door and handle searching for anything out of place. She finally looked up and gave them the all clear signal. She brushed her long, soft chestnut hair back over her shoulder and moved away from the door. She watched in silence as the tall blonde human fighter and the shorter, although certainly not weaker, dark haired elven fighter moved forward into door opening position. They had to use extreme caution anytime one of them opened a door of any sort. Undermountain was a labyrinth of traps and horrors.
The door swung open revealing another hallway. It led approximately forty feet into darkness before turning to their right. The group began to move forward. As soon as the last figure was in the hallway a large stone slab slammed down blocking off the area they'd come from. Four pairs of eyes turned to look at the thief.
"There's no way anyone could have found that one." She said in a bright voice.
The dark haired fighter slumped against the wall, and the redheaded human sighed dejectedly. "That's what you've said the last three times traps have sprung Naciel."
The thief, Naciel, sniffed and folded her arms over her chest. She turned from them with a pout on her delicate face. "Well then, if you don't think I do a good enough job, maybe you should check from now on."
"What now?" KiaLyn, the redhead human peered down the hallway and then turned to look at Kat, the dark haired fighter. Even through the helmet KiaLyn could feel the elf's piercing green gaze on her.
"Not much choice. We keep going." Kat's words were short and to the point. No reason to make chit chat. "Check for secret doors as we go. Melevey, perhaps some light for the humans?"
The gold skinned, redhaired sun elf pulled out a rock and spoke softly. "Luminos." Muted light came into being making her gold-green eyes shimmer.
The women continued on and turned the corner. Now, instead of just the sounds of their own armor they could hear something up ahead. Melee. Someone was fighting. As stealthily as possible they moved forward to where the hallway opened into a large cavern. The sight before their eyes startled them. Five human men, all in armor, were currently in battle with seven hook horrors. The beasts were large, taller than most men, with hard gray exoskeletons. Their heads were almost vulture like, they stood on two legs, and their arms ended in large hooks. The creatures made clicking and clacking sounds to communicate with each other, and their eyes resembled eyes one would find on an insect. Currently these beasts appeared to be gaining the upper hand against the men. Several of the men were wounded; one looked to be bleeding quite badly.
Both Kat and Waverly, the blonde fighter moved forward to aid the men instantly. Even while running Kat pulled her long sword and her short sword; Waverly pulled out the large two handed bastard sword and was swinging for the head of the closest hook horror. Behind them Naciel had pulled out her bow and was aiming to fire. Melevey was preparing a spell, and KiaLyn was moving forward with her mace getting between the badly injured man and the beast.
The creature shrieked as green darts of acid ripped into its natural body armor. It lashed out at KiaLyn, but she managed to duck out of the way, and proceeded to slam her mace into its side. Meanwhile Kat had begun slicing on another of the creatures. Two of the men had managed to dispatch two of the creatures, and two other creatures looked quite the worse for wear. Between the ten of them it didn't take long to defeat the monsters. As a whole it seemed everyone breathed a sigh of relief. KiaLyn turned to look at the injured man at her feet. She dropped to her knees and began rifling through her bag. "You are very hurt." She told the handsome blonde man in a gentle tone. Even bloodied, dirty, and in pain, it was easy to see these were handsome men. "I will help you." She waited for a moment for him to nod his understanding.
"Gawain!" A dark haired man with deep green eyes called. The men swarmed their comrade and KiaLyn, who began to get nervous. A tall man, almost as tall as the hook horrors themselves, crouched close. He had soft blue eyes, and his head was shaved.
"Please, I can not help him with everyone so close." Kia pleaded.
"Come, we need help pushing these hook horrors into the corner of the room." Kat ordered and began to help Waverly. The men, who didn't like being ordered about, let alone by a woman, hesitated for only a moment before assisting.
The tall man stayed with Kia and the man they'd called Gawain. "I can assist you." He offered the redhaired woman.
"There is no need. I have the help of my God. He is always with me. I do appreciate your offer." Kia laid her hands upon the wound on Gawain's side and began to sing softly.
"Hook horrors? That is what those…things are called?" one of the men asked faintly.
Both men watched in astonishment as the wound visibly healed before their eyes. The pain lessened and Gawain stared in awe. "Rest here for a moment. I must tend to the wounds of the others." She told him calmly.
Tristan studied the women who had appeared to assist them. All of the women were shorter than the knights, and all were clothed in strange armor. The woman who appeared to be healing Gawain had long, straight reddish blonde hair pulled back into a braid. She had dark brown eyes and some freckles graced her pale face. She wore heavy armor and an emblem of a rising sun around her neck. The woman currently searching the walls of the cavern they were in was… different. He hadn't gotten an extremely close look at her but she was the smallest of the bunch and had long, brown hair which she'd pushed behind her ears. She was clothed in leather, with a deep green cloak. A belt pouch cinched her waist, and she carried a strange looking bag on her back.
Another redhead, her hair like bright copper curls, stood back and he couldn't get a good look at her. He could tell she was dark robes. The last two women were obviously the fighters of the group. The short, dark haired one wore full heavy armor which seemed to emanate a faint blue glow. She also carried one of the strange looking bags, and several weapons. She was a two weapon fighter like Lancelot. The blonde fighter was the tallest of the bunch. Short, white-blonde hair framed her face drawing attention to her violet eyes. She wore chain mail, carried a huge two-handed sword, and was currently watching one of the entrances while leaning against the wall. She looked completely at ease, yet he knew she was totally focused.
Kia looked at the newcomers. The men looked…well, confused. Almost as if they were in shock. Knowing that the man Gawain would be fine she moved on to the next man. This man was devilishly handsome with almost black curls, dark brown eyes, and trimmed goatee. He held his arm at an angle that told her it was most probably broken, or at the very least it was dislocated. Yet not a sound did he utter.
"Will you allow me to help you?" she asked him.
He looked to Gawain and to where there was no longer a wound. He nodded once. Lancelot noticed how even though she appeared to be engrossed in watching for more of the monsters the dark haired fighter in the faint glowing armor and helm didn't stray too far from this red-haired lass. The woman began singing a soothing melody and his arm almost instantly felt better. Galahad moved up to their sides. Lancelot noticed the dark haired woman tighten her grip on her swords; almost as if reading his thoughts the lass looked up and over at her dark haired friend.
"Kat, they mean us no harm." Her words immediately soothed the fighter, who relaxed her stance.
"What is it you sing of?" the man who approached asked Kia. This man had brown curls and several days' growth of beard on his young, handsome face.
He looked so troubled. "I sing praise to my God."
"So you are Christian?" the man asked.
Kia's head tilted in confusion. "I do not know what Christian means? What is a Christian?" she asked him.
At first both men gaped at her, but Lancelot recovered first. "Galahad is speaking of the belief of one God. Christians are people who believe in this one God, and Christ was his son. Where we come from many people are becoming Christians. Some out of belief and others out of extreme and forced persuasion."
"What a foolish notion." Kat snorted. "One God…As if one God could be responsible for everyone and everything. As if all races and people would unite to follow one God."
Kia had moved on to Galahad's wounds. Lancelot moved to check over Tristan who appeared to have only suffered a knock on the head. It appeared his friend was observing the women. "No, we here in the Realms have many different faiths. I follow Lathander, the Morning Lord. Melevey," she motioned to the sun elf, "She follows Mystra, the mother of all magic. Kat follows Corellon Larethian, God of Elves. Naciel follows Tymora, Goddess of luck, and Waverly follows Tempus, God of war and battle. There are many more Gods than just these few."
"God of Elves?" Galahad questioned.
Naciel had finally made her way around the room and approached them. Melevey came further into the light, and Kat removed her helmet. All the men seemed stunned to see the high pointed ears, and exotic features. "You've never heard of the God of Elves?" The petite brunette elf asked curiously.
"The only elves we have ever heard of, regardless of whether they be Gods or not, are wee folk out of fairytales." The tall man crouching near Gawain explained.
"How is it possible that you have never heard of Elves?" Melevey's brow was furrowed. "We are everywhere in Faerun, most particularly the high elves who seem to breed with anything."
"We are not from here." Finally, the quiet man with tattoos on his face and braids hiding his eyes spoke.