Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Fellowship, the majority of the demons they're fighting (I'm running out of places to look for pictures, so I ma be improvising for some of them from here on in), or Malcolm; he's someone from fiction going around under an alias. The plot is mine, and that's it.

Feedback: Is Skinner slightly annoying? Of COURSE I want some!

Funky in Fishnet: Thanks for the compliment about the fight scene, but, on the subject of Marcus, you don't need to worry about having seen Underworld; he was mentioned, but never seen, so I'm just improvising his character. I assure you, I will reveal Malcolm's identity when the time comes, but you've still got a while to wait...

Sean Malloy-1: Oh, you'll have to wait and see on that front. As Clez once said; 'It would be a HUGE spoiler if I gave anything away...'...

The Fellowship of Extraordinary Men

In the centre of the fortress, the Demon Master sat on a massive throne, and stared blankly at the wall in front of him. Off to one side of the throne, a large cauldron was slowly bubbling, filled to the brim with a glowing green fluid that occasionally turned red. Originally, the potion had only turned red for a few moments at a time, but now, the Master was pleased to note, it was remaining red for a few minutes every time it changed. It was growing every more potent.

Soon, it would be ready for the purpose that it had been made for.

And then...

The Demon Master smiled underneath the long cloak that covered his face.

His objective would soon be achieved.

And the only obstacles to his achievement of his ultimate destiny- the so-called 'Fellowship of Extraordinary Men'- would soon be dead...

Just then, a loud knocking on the door to his room broke his line of thought.

"Enter," he said, waving one arm.

The door opened, and a small figure walked into the room

The Demon Master recognised it instantly; it was Gachnar, the Demon of Fear, one of his most loyal and powerful soldiers. However, his loyalty and power failed to make up for what, in the Master's opinion, would have earned any other demon death.

He was only six inches high.

As a result, he naturally lacked any great physical strength when it came to actual one-on-one combat, and was mostly kept around due to his efficiency as a spy and his ability to keep the Master's foes off- balance.

"Yes?" the Master asked, looking down at the tiny demon.

"I thought you should know," Gachnar said, in his customary squeaky voice, "the Fellowship have defeated the demons you deployed against them."

"WHAT?!" the Master bellowed, standing up so suddenly that his waving cloak knocked Gachnar over. "How? NONE of them could have lasted against their opponents by themselves for a great length of time, let alone defeat them!"

Gachnar blinked; he, like the other demons in this army, hated giving the Master bad news. "I-it was the man they call 'the Prince', Master," he said, shaking so badly he felt like he'd accidentally turned his own power onto himself. "It w-would appear that his past powers to manipulate time have remained with him, even though he has sacrificed the Dagger of Time. As far as I can tell, he f-froze the Mohra demon long enough to destroy its g-gem, and then aided the vampire in stopping the Fyarl..." His voice trailed off, leaving the Master to finish the sentence; Gachnar was too afraid to say anything else.

"And then the Prince and the vampire aided the rest of their Fellowship in defeating my demons," the Master said simply. Gachnar nodded, even though it wasn't really a question the Master had asked him; he'd simply been stating a fact.

The Master looked down at Gachnar again. "I assume the bug has been planted?"

"Oh yes," Gachnar said, relieved that he had at least that bit of good news for his master. "We now have a means of discovering all the attack plans of the Fellowship of Extraordinary Men, and they don't even know it."

"Perfect," the Master said, his eyes gleaming under his robes. "Keep me informed of their progress. You may go now."

Gachnar nodded, and walked out of the room.

The Demon Master grinned again. The Fellowship were not defeated yet, but, with his wolf set among their sheep, they would fall quickly enough when it came to the final battle...

"So, how do you know all those combat skills, Malcolm?" Robin asked, looking over at the unexpected addition to the Fellowship as they started to ride once again. At the moment, Marcus was sleeping under a bench in the cart while the Black Arrow drove the Fellowship to their next destination, giving the Fellowship the chance to talk with their newest member.

"Well, you tend to pick things up when you're dealing with demons on a regular basis," Malcolm shrugged, as he sat back in the cart and looked at his new friends. "I quickly realised that, while I want to learn about demons peacefully, not all demons are as interested in my good health as I am in theirs. I started learning al the martial arts I could while I travelled the world, and am now a master at many forms of unarmed combat."

"Intriguing," the Prince said, looking at Malcolm curiously. "I have to admit, I wouldn't mind seeing what you can do in a sword fight myself. When we next stop, what do you say to us having a fight for practice?"

Malcolm smiled. "I would enjoy that," he said simply. He looked over at Robin. "Maybe you and the Black Arrow could have a similar contest when we stop; it might be interesting to see how you two compare to each other."

Robin nodded thoughtfully. "Yes... an interesting suggestion, certainly," he commented. Then he shrugged. "However, we have more pressing concerns at the moment; namely, having witnessed the sort of demons we shall be fighting on this mission, do we stand a chance of defeating an entire army of them by ourselves?"

"Oh, we should manage the actual battle well enough," Ivanhoe commented, looking around at the others. "The way I see it, in all our fights with the demons to date, they have had the advantage in that they have known where we were, and they have always started the attack before we can come up with an effective strategy. However, when we attack the fortress, there shall be a crucial difference; even if they have guessed we might have won our last fight, they cannot be certain when we shall arrive at the fortress. If nothing else, we shall have the element of surprise available to us when we attack, and that can count for a great deal, as I have learned myself."

"Indeed," Robin nodded thoughtfully, as he looked around at the various weapons in the cart, already subconsciously picking out which weapons to use in the upcoming attack on the fortress. Then he looked down at where Marcus was lying on the ground. "Well, we should probably follow Marcus's advice and get some sleep; we have a two day journey ahead of us to get to the fortress, and we would probably be best getting in some practice when Marcus can work with us."

"A fair statement," Malcolm said. "But what about the Black Arrow?"

"Oh, I've told him to let me know when he gets tired of driving us," Ivanhoe smiled. "I'll take over later on, and he can have a rest himself at that time."

"Perfect," the Prince said, as he lay back against the wall of the cart and closed his eyes. "Wake me when it's time for our practicing," he said, before he turned his head away from the other Fellowship members and tried to get comfortable in the cart.

Looking around at the rest of the Fellowship, Robin nodded.

"Follow his example," he said simply. "Ivanhoe, when the sun goes down, wake us up. We have to get in as much practice in working together as we can. Understood?"

"Understood," Ivanhoe nodded, before the rest of the Fellowship, obeying Robin's advice, closed their eyes, and fell asleep shortly afterwards.

The Prince blinked as he saw the scene in front of him.

Once again, it was the aftermath of the final battle of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Why was he dreaming of this? He knew that it must have some kind of relevance to the current crisis, but what kind of connection would there be between the final days of the most legendary king Britain had ever known and an army of attacking demons?

He didn't know, but he was sure that he knew where the answer lay...

In the centre of the field, where the wounded man in black armour lay in pain on the ground. There was nothing else in the field which could have even the remotest connection with their crisis; nobody else appeared to be even moving, apart from Sir Bedevere, and the Prince doubted that a former knight of this noble order would be involved in summoning demons.

Walking towards the fallen knight, he watched as the knight groaned and clutched his side through his armour. However, the Prince still couldn't see the man's face; his visor was so thin that he couldn't even see what colour the man's eyes were.

Then, to the Prince's surprise, a large vortex suddenly appeared in the air beside the knight; a glowing blue swirl in the air that didn't appear to be being generated by anything. As he stared at the vortex, a tall figure wearing a long, dark blue robe leapt out of the vortex, landing on its feet directly beside the knight.

The figure crouched down beside the knight, and stared at him with an almost pitying look in its eyes. However, the Prince couldn't be sure of that, because the figure in blue was dressed almost exactly like the Demon Master in every regard; the only difference was that this figure was wearing blue robes, whereas the Demon Master had favoured an all-black costume.

"Mordred?" the figure said, reaching out one hand to tenderly touch the wounded knight on the shoulder. "Mordred, how are you feeling?"

The Prince's breathe caught in his throat.

Mordred...

He knew that name. He knew that a Mordred had played a fatal role in the history of King Arthur and his Knights, but what had that role been again...

Then he remembered.

Mordred had been the son of Morgraine LeFay, King Arthur's half-sister by his mother and her previous husband. Hating her half-brother, Morgraine had trained to become a powerful witch, and had even made arrangements that had led to Arthur becoming the father of her son, Mordred.

(At least according to some versions of the legend; others had Arthur being Mordred's father and his mother being some other woman whose name the Prince couldn't remember at the moment.)

But even if Morgraine LeFay being a witch gave the Prince a plausible motive for having these dreams (Morgraine being a magic user did suggest she would be able to control the demons), how could she still be alive today? Even if her magic gave her an extended life span, according to most versions of the legend he'd heard, she'd given her life to destroy the Knights of the Round Table, by making a knight draw his sword against her when Arthur's forces were having a fragile truce with Mordred's forces.

How could she still be alive?

And more importantly, if she had survived the final battle, why would she have waited until now to actually do anything?

He walked towards Mordred and the robed figure, desperate to see if he could learn anything more about them if he could see them better...

He looked up into the face of Robin Hood, who had one arm on his shoulder as though he'd been shaking him.

"It's time for us to begin our practice," he said simply.

The Prince nodded and stood up, but inwardly he was cursing his new friend's ill timing. A few more seconds and he might have been able to see more of Mordred and the robed figure...

But that will have to wait, he thought to himself, as he pulled out his sword and leapt out of the cart, looking around at the rest of the Fellowship as they stood, scattered around a moonlit field. Right now, they had to begin their practice.