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 may 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!
Sean Malloy-1: As you can see, I've updated everything.
Funky in Fishnet: Sorry about the confusion, but I kind of have to do it. Where's the fun in letting everything out all at once?
The Fellowship of Extraordinary Men
The Prince stared out at the scene in front of him.
It was the final battle of King Arthur once again. The stench of blood, the fallen knights, the broken weapons...
They were clearer than they'd ever been before.
And there, in front of him, the fallen knight in black armour (Mordred), alongside the tall robed figure from last time...
Who was he?
Was he the Demon Master?
And if so, how could he have survived for this long?
"You have failed, Mordred," the robed figure said, as the injured knight looked up at the figure, his face concealed behind his helmet. "You thought you could defeat Arthur here, on the field of battle, with nothing more than human soldiers. You were wrong."
"Yes," Mordred said, nodding slightly in his armour, clutching his side as a brief spasm of pain passed through his wound. "I acknowledge that. And I also acknowledge my punishment." He appeared to bow his head slightly in his helmet. "Do as you will with me."
The figure raised its arm, stared at Mordred for a few seconds, and then lowered the arm again.
"No," it said simply. "I shall not destroy you. You have failed me now, but I sense that you will prove invaluable to me in the future."
"In what way?" Mordred asked, looking at the figure with renewed interest.
"We have failed to conquer Arthur using purely human means," the figure explained, as it raised one hand and began to wave in the air. As the Prince watched, a strange, shimmering hole formed in the air, through which the Prince could see brief glimpses of flames. "Therefore, I believe it would be more practical to devote our energies to taking control of a more powerful force to crush this kingdom of his."
"Demons?" Mordred said, looking at the robed figure in shock. "But the magical energy required to control them is..."
"A lot, I know," the figure said, as it rose back onto its feet and began to wave its arms, causing the portal to expand and grow as the Prince watched it. "It shall take some time to summon magic of that power, but I am prepared to wait."
"But you'll... you'll..." Mordred said, apparently reluctant to continue.
"Never live that long?" the figure asked, looking back at Mordred.
To the Prince's surprise, the figure almost appeared to be smiling.
"I am aware of that fact, Mordred," the figure said, as its eyes sparkled with a glam that boded ill for anyone who got in this... thing's way.
Because, as far as its soul was concerned, it was evidently not human.
"Which is why you and I shall gather our power in here, where time flows at a slower rate than in the real world," the figure explained. Then its eyes lost their eager gleam as they stared Mordred in the eyes. "I shall rule, Mordred. Do not doubt it. And you shall rule by my side."
"Of course," Mordred said, as he slowly staggered to his feet and removed his helmet, revealing a shock of black hair. "I would have it no other way."
And, as Mordred and the robed figure (The Demon Master, as the Prince finally realised it must be) stepped into the portal, the Prince found his perspective of them shifting, so that he could now just see Mordred's face.
The ear.
The cheek.
The...
The Prince blinked.
He was looking at Robin's face.
"We're there," the ex-outlaw said to the former nobleman. "Everyone else is waiting outside the cart, but you appear to be sleeping in a lot for some reason."
"Yes, I apologise about that," the Prince said, as he stood up and grabbed his sword. "It's one of the side effects of my condition; I occasionally have visions that are connected to any dangerous situations I find myself it."
"Really?" Robin said, his curiosity overriding his haste to complete their mission. "What have you been seeing? Anything that could be of use to us?"
"Well..." the Prince started to say, but hesitated. Should he explain that he was having visions about the final fight of King Arthur when he didn't even know anything useful from them? He didn't even know who the Demon Master was; was it really worth worrying the other Fellowship members about them until he knew anything else?
"Nothing," he sighed. "The images are too fast for me to process them properly. I could maybe process them if given enough time, but-"
"Time is a luxury we lack, unfortunately," Robin sighed. He looked back outside the cart, sighed, and glanced back at the Prince. "We'll just have to hope that your visions don't include anything that could prove potentially vital in the short term. Come on."
Outside the cart, the Prince was pleased to see that Marcus, Ivanhoe, Malcolm, and the Black Arrow were all prepared to fight. Each of them had grabbed several weapons from the boxes the Fellowship had found in the cart, and were armed to the teeth. Ivanhoe and Malcolm were in suits of armour, shields on their arms, and swords and daggers hanging on their sides. Marcus and the Black Arrow, however, had ignored the armour, being used to fighting without it, and had instead simply picked up some longbows, arrows, and daggers and swords.
"Ah, you're here," Marcus said, looking over at the Prince with a grin on his face. The sun was setting, but Marcus was safe enough for the remaining hour or so it would be up; he'd positioned himself under a nearby tall tree, and was sitting casually in the shadow as he looked over at the other Fellowship members. "Tell me, will you be wearing armour for this fight, or will you just be going in with your own skin as defence?"
"The second one," the Prince replied. "I was never much of a man for armour; I find it too cumbersome for my combat tastes."
"Fair enough," Robin shrugged, as he reached down and grabbed a quiver of arrows and slung them over his shoulder, followed by a longbow, sword and a couple of daggers. "I agree with that statement; I have always relied more on my wits and skills to keep me alive than any armour. Besides, who is to say these demons will be very heavily armoured anyway?"
"They'll still be remarkably strong," Malcolm put in from where he was taking a couple of practice swipes with his sword. "Remember that detail; whatever else they are, demons are, traditionally, capable of doing a great deal of damage when it comes to hand-to-hand combat."
"Then we'll have to ensure it doesn't come to that," Ivanhoe said, as he pulled his blade out of his scabbard and held it up in front of him, as though checking it for imperfections. "Marcus will be able to handle himself at close quarters, and the Prince's time-bending skills may give him an edge, but the rest of us... we shall have a bit of a problem."
"Relax, Ivanhoe," the Black Arrow smiled, as he pulled an arrow out of his quiver and looked at it. "You forget, Robin and I are two of the best archers of our time, even in darkness. If anyone can stop some of these demons before they reach us, we can."
"Besides," Marcus added, from where he sat under the tree, "I'm no slouch when it comes to archery myself. If nothing else, my night vision and natural hand-eye coordination should help us turn the numbers in out favour."
"Good," the Prince said, before turning to Robin. "What is the plan of attack?"
"Follow me," Robin said, as he turned around and walked towards a small cluster of trees a few metres away from the cart. The Prince followed him, walking through the trees for a few seconds...
And then stopping short at the sight in front of him.
It was a large tower, larger than any he had ever seen on his travels. It had several narrow slits all over it, a remarkably large and sturdy-looking wooden door at the bottom of it, and several smaller towers around the top of it. The Prince could just make out several robed figures standing around the top of the tower, but in the fading light it was hard to be really sure of anything.
"The fortress?" he asked Robin, out of the corner of his mouth.
"The same," Robin replied, as they walked back into the trees and stood there, out of sight of the fortress's inhabitants. "Our current plan of attack is simple; we sneak in as close as we can to the fortress without getting seen, and then you freeze time for us while we get in closer. Once there, Marcus, whose abilities apparently include a certain talent for climbing walls like those of this fortress, will head up to the top of one of the less obvious towers, take down any immediate resistance he may encounter, and then throw a rope down for the rest of us. From there, we shall endeavour to track down the Demon Master's room, and then neutralise him. Marcus and Malcolm are of the opinion that, without him to coordinate them, the demons shall leave this dimension, and never bother us again- or, at least, not for a very long while."
"Ah," the Prince said, nodding his approval as he listened to the plan. "A good plan, Robin. I may have some difficulty in holding time still for the length that shall be required, but I shall do what I can." He paused briefly. "Just... allow me some time to rest afterwards, please?"
"Of course," Robin nodded. "We shall be sure to keep your limitations in mind." He looked back at the sky. "We'd better get moving; the sun shall be setting soon, and I want to go over things with the others one last time."
He looked back at the Prince. "The world's fate is in our hands. We must stand together, or fall apart."
"Agreed," the Prince said, as he held out one hand. Robin shook it, and then the two of them turned back to join the other members of the Fellowship.
The battle would soon begin...
That night, all was quiet around the fortress. The demons that dwelt within it were not very alert at the best of times, due to their belief that nobody would attack them at the heart of their operations, and thus it was an easy task for the six figures on the nearby hill to sneak down to the bottom of the hill without anyone seeing them.
Marcus, with the keenest vision of all the Fellowship, glanced around at their surroundings, and then looked back at the other Fellowship members.
"All clear," he whispered.
"Excellent," Robin said, as he looked over at the Prince. "It is all up to you now."
The Prince nodded, reached out, and grabbed Robin and Ivanhoe by the shoulders. On a pre-arranged decision, the two of them reach out and grabbed Malcolm and Marcus by the shoulders, leaving the Black Arrow to put his hand on the Prince's shoulder and hold on.
Swallowing his fear at what he was about to attempt, the Prince focused briefly, and transmitted himself and the other Fellowship members into that frozen state outside of time, where he and only he had dominion. He hated taking others along, mainly because he always drained a small amount of their life energy when he used his powers, but he had no choice right now.
He just had to make this quick.
"Go!" he yelled at the other Fellowship members. "Hurry, before we get too weak!"
Responding to his command at once, the Fellowship charged towards the tower. Even though all of time was frozen, even though they only took two minutes at most to reach the tower that was their target...
To the Prince, it felt like a lifetime.
Finally, he reached the bottom of the tower and was able to break the hold he'd been maintaining on reality for the Fellowship. Gasping for breath, he slumped to the ground, supported only by the willing shoulders of Robin and Ivanhoe, despite them both looking a bit pale themselves.
The Prince looked over at Robin, and smiled weakly.
"That... was... interesting..." he gasped.
"Indeed," Robin nodded at his teammate. "Do us a favour; ensure we never use that means of getting into somewhere secret again unless it is a matter of life and death, do you understand?"
"Crystal..." the Prince smiled.
"Good," Ivanhoe said, as he glanced over at Marcus. "Are you capable of climbing the wall yet?"
Marcus looked up the tall tower in front of them, and the window that was a hundred or so feet above them, and grinned.
"Naturally," he said, as he took off his boots and stuffed them into his pockets. "You forget that I have a great deal more life energy than the rest of you; a drain that would leave you all weak for a few minutes will do no more than leave me feeling dizzy for a few seconds." He walked towards the wall, placed his hands in a couple of niches between the bricks, and looked back at the other Fellowship members.
"Wait here," he grinned. "I'll be back."
And he leapt up the wall, climbing it with a speed and dexterity that made him appear to be more of a spider than the bat that his kind would come to be associated with.
Reaching the window, he slowly sneaked his eyes over the edge of the sill, relieved that the window was wide enough to accommodate the Fellowship members; he hadn't been sure it would be as wide as it had looked from the ground. He also noted, with a certain amount of relief, that there was only a couple of Brachen demons inside the main corridor; fairly powerful physically, but nothing he couldn't handle.
Leaping through the window, he drew his sword as he landed on the floor, whistling a little to attract the Brachen's attention.
"Excuse me," he said, the sword down by his side as he leaned on it like a stick, "Could you direct me to the Demon Master, or do I have to get nasty with you?"
The Brachens growled and raised their arms, the sharp spines covering their faces glinting briefly in the moonlight.
"Ah well," Marcus sighed. "Let's get this little mess over with."
He drew the sword, held it out in front of him, and leapt towards the Brachens with a gleam in his eyes. Before they could do anything, Marcus launched forward, the sword swiping out at the nearest Brachen in a blow that would have taken its head off if it hadn't knocked the blade aside with a well-timed punch.
Compensating for the shift, Marcus dropped the sword, grabbed the daggers that hung on his belt, and lashed out in a spinning swipe he'd perfected a few years ago, during a period where he'd fought in the crusades and saved King Richard's life. The daggers weren't as damaging to the Brachens as they could have been- as good as Marcus was, these demons were still pretty agile- but he still managed to scratch them.
Leaping up into the air as one of the Brachens launched a punch at his chest, Marcus drove the left dagger down into the shoulder of the nearest demon, keeping it in as he leapt to increase the damage delivered. The Brachen screamed as the blade tore through muscle, the blade only leaving when Marcus had landed back on the ground. Before it could react, Marcus drove the blade directly into its back, twisting sharply as he tore through the Brachen's spine, following it up with a powerful kick in the neck.
Cut off in mid-scream, the Brachen collapsed to the ground, blood leaking from its mouth as it lay. Even with the Brachen's natural abilities to survive broken necks, it hadn't been able to survive Marcus's last kick on top of the dagger in its back.
"Vermin!" the other Brachen yelled at Marcus, as it looked up at him from the fallen body of its comrade. "You've killed one of my own kin!"
"I'm vermin?" Marcus asked, slightly amused at the comment. "A bit rich coming from you, wouldn't you say? The last time I checked, your kind were generally fairly happy with the world the way it is; why are you working with someone like the Demon Master?"
"Key word there, blood; generally," the Brachen stated, as it began to move around Marcus, flexing its fingers eagerly in anticipation of the upcoming battle. "I and a few associates of mine are rather opposed to the general view of the world's current situation; we'd prefer to be the ones in charge of it all."
"Oh god..." Marcus groaned, rolling his eyes in exasperation...
... Only to find himself pinned to the wall, the Brachen's hands at his throat, it having moved at such remarkable speed it had actually managed to catch him off-guard.
The Brachen grinned. "Foolish, leech," it smirked at him. "You should never underestimate the pure demons in this world, no matter what superiority you may feel you have over them."
"Another... point..." Marcus gasped, as he felt the Brachen's hand start to squeeze his throat.
"Yes?" the Brachen asked mockingly.
Instantly, Marcus forced his legs upwards, his knees ramming into the Brachen's chin with a force that was every bit as devastating as a punch would have been. As the Brachen staggered back, Marcus landed on the ground in a crouch and slashed at the demon's legs with his daggers, cutting through its right Achilles tendon with one dagger and swiping the other through the Brachen's chest before it could react.
As its guts tumbled out of its chest, the Brachen looked at Marcus as though it couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Then its eyes rolled up and it collapsed to the floor, leaving Marcus with its small intestine unfortunately draped over his head.
Standing up, Marcus raised one hand to his head, picked the draping gut out of his hair, and looked at it in disdain. Then he threw it to the ground, kicked them over towards the rest of the Brachen's innards, and glanced over at the corpse.
"Never leave your opponent with any available limbs," he said simply.
Then he grabbed the rope that had been hanging from his shoulder, looped it around his arm, and threw it out of the window. He waited a few seconds, and then felt a tug that indicated someone was climbing up the rope. It was hard to determine who it was, but based on the figure's weight, it seemed logical to assume that it was either Ivanhoe or Malcolm in their armour.
Looking up at Robin as he crawled into the window, the Prince smiled a little at the ease of this whole operation. Marcus had only taken a few short minutes to dispatch whatever resistance he'd encountered inside the tower, and then the other members of the Fellowship had crawled into the window without any problems with other demons attacking the group already inside. First Malcolm, then the Black Arrow, Ivanhoe, Robin...
And, last of all, him.
Grabbing the rope that hung down beside him, the Prince began to climb the steep wall, the rope moving forward slightly as the person holding it briefly lost their balance with the extra weight. However, the loss was only temporary, and the rope steadied out again fairly soon.
However, as the Prince climbed up the wall, he couldn't shake a nagging feeling the back of his skull.
It can't be this easy...
He suspicions were confirmed when he climbed over the window sill and found himself looking at the unconscious forms of Robin and Ivanhoe, with the Black Arrow and Marcus only a couple of feet away from them.
"What the...?" he gasped, spinning around in confusion and horror...
To see Malcolm standing in one corner, the rope looped around his arm, a large red-and-black demon standing behind him with a wicked grin on its face and a blunt, powerful-looking mace in one hand.
"YOU!" the Prince yelled, horrified.
"Me," Malcolm smirked.
And he swung the rod at the Prince, striking him in the side of the head.
As the Prince fell to the ground, his consciousness rapidly fading, he realised what his visions had been trying to tell him. The tone of Malcolm's voice in those final moments...
It had been Mordred's voice!