Bork Lazer

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Verdun is on fire.

Smoke rises out of great pits rent in the earth, strewn with bodies,bullet shells and ashes. Mass graves don’t even begin to describe the scale of the carnage Justin sees as he whips the reins forward. His steed neighs nervously, hooves coming to a crawl in front of the shelled neighborhood.

“ Easy there, my companion,” Justin rubs the horse’s cheek affectionately, trying to calm him down. The trotting becomes faster from its once inexorable pace. Good. They had to get there in time before the Germans -

The sound of the air screeching is the only warning he has before he is sent flying off his horse along with the entire block being leveled to a pulp. He hears the sound of frantic whinnying. He tries to move but his ribs dig into his chest like spears when he tries to raise himself up. His ears are ringing and -

---

SHINING KNIGHT - FELLOWSHIP 2.1.2

---

“ - Oi, Justin. Wake up! I said, wake up!”

Flannegan’s hand slapped his back heartily. The sounds of bustling conversation and faded pop music combined to awake Justin from his slumber. Wiping away the drool on his lip, Justin realized much to his embarrassment that he’d fallen asleep on the bar counter. Flanagan had invited him to a night out in the pub to celebrate his new promotion. He accepted the invitation in spite of the fact that alcohol and deep drinking had lost its effect on him in the 19th century.

He downed the last dredges of ale in his tankard before observing the television above that everyone paid rapt attention to. The reception was horrible, resulting in grainy images that were cut off by bursts of static randomly. Justin could make out a racing track as the camera zoomed in on a line of eight horses with their riders on the back. The sound of gunshot erupted and Justin’s ear nearly bled at the roar of excitement in the bar, cash held in white knuckled grips as attendants were both praying and gnashing their teeth at the animals they had bet their entire life’s fortune on.

“ Beggar’s Chance is coming fast behind with London’s Bridge behind her. We’re rounding around the last turn now. And, what’s this!” The announcer’s voice became ecstatic as if he had witnessed a miracle in front of him “ Winged Victory is leading! I can’t believe it. Another tally in the twenty year long streak - “

It was a white palomino horse that broke through the line, outstripping the other horses. Whilst the other bar attendants were busy alternatively celebrating their wins or mourning their losses, Justin stood up and observed the winner of the race. He noticed something odd that others didn’t. The rider wasn’t in control of the horse. He was a spectator, merely making an illusion that he was controlling the horse, pulling the rein in unnatural ways and spurring the horse onwards when it didn’t need to.

“ Flannegan, who’s that?”

“ Winged Victory? Crowd favorite. He’s been on the scene for about two decades at this point. “ Flannegan quirked his eyebrow in thought and took a long drag from his beer. “ Surprising he hasn’t retired yet. Most horses retire at 10. Bless his trainer for maintaining that stallion as long as he did.”

Justin considered Flannegan’s words for a silent minute before sliding his bar tab forward and pushing himself off the stool. The trainer wasn’t responsible for that horse’s long life. Something else was.

“ Where are you going?,” Flannegan called out.

“ To find an old friend,” Justin replied back, pushing through the crowd and buttoning his trenchcoat to wander into the cold night.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Thoughts/Notes on Shining Knight: Arc 1 - Piety

- The titles of each arc was supposed to be in reference to the Five Knightly Virtues. Initial title themes included either the parts of a sword, various christian iconography related to baptism/faith or roman numeral crap.

- Some thought was given to mixing the origins of Shining Knight and the Black Knight but was discarded extremely early before any development could take place.

- There was a lot of conflict initially about whether I would keep the backstory of whether Shining Knight being magically transported to the present ala Samurai Jack or having been cursed with immortality after the Fall of Camelot. I blame a late night watching of the Old Guard for pushing the immortality angle and the CW show for having Sir Justin being present as a janitor for the homelessness inspiration.

- Arthur Blackwood was initially planned as a potential villain/mini-antagonist for this arc before I scrapped in favor of a bildungsroman/introspective character piece rather than a typical inimical relationship of good triumphing against evil. The Order of St Dumas was also under consideration but was discarded to save potentially for future arcs.

- Stonehenge was briefly considered as a site in Piety 1.5 instead of the Cornwall Lake where Arthur would have to reenact the Sword in the Stone.

- The Spectre was supposed to be there instead of the Gurt Hound.

- Briefly considered implications that the other members of the Round Table survived and were in the same straits as Justin but would remove the impact of Justin being the last survivor and would raise suspension of disbelief that somehow, Justin didn't know his brothers in arms were alive for a millennia.

- The biggest change by far in terms of the writing process was the ending of the arc. Justin was initially supposed to get a vision of Excalibur and misinterpret the words spoken by his illusory self, believing that Excalibur was the only thing that could permanently remove his immortality by killing himself. It was pretty bleak and would result in the later arcs (which I am currently writing and planning) revolving around Justin embarking on a death quest to redeem himself through suicide via Excalibur.

- Ending was rewritten multiple times. Initial location was a morgue instead of a lake and Justin was supposed to submit himself to M15 willingly of his own choice.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

The cherry trees are blossoming on the streets, petals strewn under my feet.

Smiling isn’t as strenuous anymore.

A month has passed since my sojourn at Cornwall. I walk now with purpose.The spirit is more whole than ever.

And yet, the quest has only begun.

Dreams call to me now instead of nightmares. They are scattered, grainy. I can barely recall them.

What purpose are they guiding me towards? Why am I still stricken with them?

Perhaps, I must learn to listen more carefully.

---

SHINING KNIGHT - FRAGMENT 1

FELLOWSHIP 2.1.1

---

Those were the first words imparted to him by his first master at arms when he first began training as a squire in Arthur’s court. Other maxims were forgotten and shed as technology progressed and the sword was forgotten in favor of new ways of bloodshed but Justin held onto that lesson. Rage was easier than calm, more addicting than the foulest spirits that he could imbibed in any tavern. To draw from calm required focus and most men didn’t have the luxury of honing the will of their minds in the heat of battle. To kill was easy but to kill for a living was the occupation of a knight. Dealing with the toll of killing was an art itself; to walk a fine balance between numbing yourself to the wanton slaughter and being aware that your life was on a fine thread with each passing moment.

The fashion store mannequin shook from Justin’s blow, swaying on its pole. With a pull, he dislodged his weapon and took a breath, spinning it slowly in his hand. Readying himself, he began slashing away again at the dummy at various angles. Sweat beaded on his naked chest as he recited the exercise mentally in his head.

Right, left, feint, top, down, left-right. Pause. Left, feint, right, top, down, left-right. And other combinations that were more or less the same as the last. Under the steady rhythm of his sword, the junkyard groaned around him as a crane shifted its haul of scrap from one mountain to another. As he continued training, muscle and mind became one as the movements of his blade became second-hand, gliding and scything through the air like butter. It was that moment of peace, of thoughtlessness where Justin could find solace away from the modern world.

He was consumed so entirely in it that he didn’t notice how his blade came forward at an awkward angle. Instead of embedding cleanly into the dummy, it was knocked out of his grip and was sent skipping a few feet away. He walked forward to where it laid and picked it up. Turning around, he prepared to settle into his stance again. Only, it wasn’t his dummy.

It was Arthur tied against a pole, bleeding from the various wounds he’d struck into him. His ruby-encrusted crown laid askew on his blood-matted hair and his stubble was ridden with drool and spit. Justin froze still as Arthur inclined his head towards him and whispered.

“ Save us, Justin,” The corpse opened its mouth and spoke again. “ Save us.”

Justin dropped the sword, clanging growing deeper in the ground, as he walked back in horror at Arthur’s unblinking eyes and gormless open mouth. The crows in the pines above cawed a cacophonous dirge and in a blink, the headless dummy was there back again. The hills became mounds of rusten cars and the blood-rent sky was back to the smoggy clouds of London. He

That was enough training for today.

---

The Hourglass Order

Onarr Yidlob

When the mist dissipated from the ocean, Onarr found himself paddling wildly in the water just to keep his head above. He gradually pulled himself out, letting magnetic energy flow out of his palms as he bobbed gently above the surf. Onarr looked around, hissing to cradle his dislocated arm. The force of the explosion was so powerful that he could hear the sound of fish colliding with the ocean’s surface every so often. Still panting, he continued to gaze around dazedly, wondering where the kinetic mage was. She was nowhere to be seen or perhaps, was making herself unseen. Onarr looked around the endless expanse and then looked below. An average person could hold their breath underwater for 90 seconds, more if they were untrained. If the individual was trained in the military, then -

Onarr felt as though someone smashed a sledgehammer in the back of his head as he was shoved roughly into the water. He didn’t have time to hold his breath in before a hand lifted him out. Onarr saw through his frenzied gasping that she was floating on a ball of water and quickly surmised that that was how she dodged the explosion. It wasn’t without cost, though. He could see that her right eye was pulped, rivers of blood gushing out from the socket, and that the brigandine that covered her body was torn apart. Her ankle was also twisted in the opposite direction.

“ That was a neat little surprise you pulled there, joruban,” The kinetic mage squeezed his throat tightly with a sadistic smile “ But your journey ends here. Out of respect, I’ll make your death quick.”

“ Please don’t do this,” Onarr pleaded, grunting underneath her grip as she began to dance her fingers around his chest. “ Please don’t make me do this.”

Onarr felt the brush of her kinetic energy begin to slow down his heart and panicked, thrashing in her firm grip. His mind raced for possibilities yet there was only one left. He closed his eyes and with the last dredges of every charge in his body, pushed it all into the only thing near his body which could absorb it. Unfortunately for the kinetic mage, she just so happened to be the perfect conductor. The kinetic mage’s eyes widened as her arms became frozen and her face became transfixed into a rictus of a smile. The bubble of water collapsed underneath her and she splashed down into the surf, the water swallowing her features. Onarr saw her body slowly fading in the darkness of the ocean’s depth, bubbles floating up from her wake.

It would take a minute for her to asphyxiate and another minute before her brain would completely shut down. Onarr couldn’t stop the facts from appearing in his mind as he watched the waves listlessly but he did.

It took an agonising five minutes to crawl all the way back to shore. Onarr limped onto the sand, seeing Benedetto and Ingrid engaged in a furious conversation with the latter looking livid. When he was within throwing distance of them, he gave a half-hearted wave.

“ Anyone know binding magic?” He let his broken arm hang for a second before nursing it back up with his other. “ I’d rather not have to get amputated and become drawn into the world of piracy at such a young age.”

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

“Then loudly cried the bold Bedivere:

“Ah! My Lord Arthur, whither shall I go?

Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes?

For now I see the true old times are dead,

When every morning brought a noble chance,

And every chance brought out a noble knight.

Such times have been not since the light that led

The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.

But now the whole ROUND TABLE is dissolved.

Which was an image of the mighty world;

And I, the last, go forth companionless,

And the days darken round me, and the years,

Among new men, strange faces, other minds.”

---

SHINING KNIGHT: FRAGMENT I

PIETY 1.5

---

The rain comes down in blistering sheets, beating the yew branches she’s standing under until they are stripped bare of spring needles. The thin parka around her body is little more than paper as she huddles around the warm thermos of coffee she prepared this morning. Her ears pick up the crunches of sodden dirt behind her followed by a loud yawn.

“ Christ, I fuckin’ hate this weather,” Julia, her supervisor, grunted lightly, lighting a cigarette. She drags the blunt along her lips and breathes out a wispy cloud of smoke that is quickly cut apart by the rain. “ Can’t believe we had to drive all the way down to Manchester when the EMTs are already here picking over the body. I don’t care if I get the stink eye from Wisdom. I’m sending an email to HR as soon as we get out of this dump. ”
Ystin nodded in agreement. The director of M113 had sent them all the way out here to Cornwall out of all places. Ystin was hoping that their next assignment would be located in Bristol so that she could use that favor from her ex in time for Glastonbury. Instead, she had to drive all the way to the middle of nowhere to some glorified ditch filled with swamp water with possibly the most crankiest person she ever knew on this earth.

Julia flicked away the cigarette and stamped it under the sole of her boot. “ Well, enough standing by, kiddo.”

She then glanced cheekily at Ystin with a lopsided grin.

“Wanna see a dead body?”

Julia began walking down the hill and Ystin followed whilst putting on her hood. The bright yellow uniforms of the EMTs reminded Ystin of the rain jackets she would wear on rainy days to kindergarten. As the pair got closer to the scene, Ystin’s first impressions of the dead man was that he was enormous. His chest was barrel-sized and his arms could wrap around an entire oak with enough room to touch his elbows. Judging by the defibrillator that was hurriedly unpacked at their feet, it seemed that they’d already tried resusticating the man.

“Well, what do we have, officer?,” Julia gruffly spoke.

The EMS stood up, a curl of ginger hair peeking out of the parka. She looked up from the neoprene clipboard she was scrawling on.

“ Well, we got a John Doe. No wallet or any ID on him. Guy’s built like an ox, though. Took the three of us to drag him out of there. Time of death is 11:45.”

Julia tilted her head pointed towards the large stretch of mottled scar tissue that stretched across his belly in swollen bubbles.

“ What about this?”

“ What about it?,” The EMT shrugged casually, his face lined with decades of caffeine fueled nights. “ If you’re suspecting foul play, there’s no blood loss. It’s not up to me to figure out what junkies do in their spare time.”

The EMT jotted down another note, giving a brief nod towards one of her partners. The partner unzipped a bag and took out a paper tag, tying it around the victim’s ankle.
“ Alright, we’re done here. Let’s see if we can get this sucker to the morgue - “

A hand around the EMT’s neck paused him mid-conversation as the man suddenly gasped and woke up hyperventilating. Bloodshot eyes flitted back and forth between her and Julia as he shakedly scrambled up to his feet. His steps were unsure, sometimes treading on his own feet like he was a newborn. Julia immediately whipped out a taser, the contacts buzzing with static.

“ Sir! Let go of the man, kneel on the ground and place your hands behind your head,” Julia barked out.
Ystin, meanwhile, wasn’t concerned about the fact that somehow, a man had seemingly risen from the dead in front of her. She was more unnerved by how the man wasn’t fazed by the pistol in her supervisor’s hand. He stared at it as if it was an annoying fly more than something that could end his life in the pull of a trigger. His ventilation slowed down and he let go off the EMT who fell down on the ground, skin paper white with fear. The other EMTs began walking away slowly as the man kneeled onto the ground.

“ Alright, now, place your hands on your head.” The man didn’t respond, his hands still hanging by his side. “Are you deaf? I said - “

In one swift movement, the man dug a handful of dirt into his palm and tossed it wildly at Julia’s eye. Ystin heard her supervisor swear out loud in frustration, coughing as some of the mud made it into her mouth. In the next second, the man was in front of her, swiping to knock the pistol out of her hand. His arm then wrapped around her shoulder whilst his left hand grabbed her thigh before proceeding to flip Julia over as if she was a sack of potatoes, slamming her into the mud. Beads of sweat ran down Ystin's forehead as she was determined to get away from the man who had somehow treated a M113 agent like an overgrown toddler. She looked around, to see the fading yellow jackets of the EMTs flapping away in the distance.

A quiet cough broke her out of her reverie as the man gave a tiny little wave.

“ Greetings.”

“ Hey,” Ystin said unsurely.

“ My apologies for how I treated your colleague.” The man was busy taking apart her supervisor’s gun with one foot on her torso. “ Rest assured, she is unharmed. Do you have any means of transport out of here? A car or -”

“ A truck.” Ystin paused before detailing further. “ Toyota 1984.”

“ Then, that is satisfactory.” The man took off Julia’s jacket whilst she was still unconscious, wrapping it around his body. “ What date is it?”

“ July the 4th.”

“ 7 days…..but how…”

The man looked in disbelief at what she said, somewhat bug eyed, before looking down at the scar on his chest in wonder. He opened his mouth, the edge of asking a question, before clamping it shut deliberately as if he was holding himself back.

“ I must take my leave. I have matters to attend to. I apologize again for borrowing your friend’s vestment. I will repay later when I am able to do so. I bid thee farewell.”

The man then gave a bow (Who the hell gave bows?) and began to trudge away on his bare feet.

“ Wait, Wait!” Ystin shouted out. “ Who the bloody hell are you?”

The man stopped and his head swiveled back slowly, his haunted slate eyes seeming to expose every inch of her soul.

“ My name is Justin Inse Ghall, my lady, and I am a knight.”

Then, thunder flashed, making Ystin’s world white, and when she lowered her arms down from her eyes, Justin Inse Ghall was gone.

---

NEXT TIME…….

THE SHINING KNIGHT: FRAGMENT 1

CHAPTER TWO: FELLOWSHIP

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept

And in the moon athwart the place of tombs,

Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men,

Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang

Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down

By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock,

Came on the shining levels of the lake.

---

SHINING KNIGHT: FRAGMENT I

PIETY 1.4

---

There is a lake south of the parish of Bolventor in the green pastures of Cornwall, small and untouched by the ravages of tourism or industrialization. It is not the largest or the oldest in the isles. Few know of its legacy except for him.

It was on these very shores that the first men to walk what was known as Briton would make their first hearth. It was the waters of this lake that were mistaken for the famed Fountain of Youth by enterprising Spanish conquistadors. A thousand nameless duels, confrontations, discoveries and historical records happened and were forgotten here, buried under the loam and the sand, never to be unearthed.

He’d always feared coming here, of tasting the ashes of yesterday’s glory. Every step he took on the sand brought back memories he’d long tried to bury. He could clearly see the five of them standing on the shoreline: him, Percy, Lancelot, Edwin watching stoically as the boy king rowed to the middle of the loch to retrieve his birthright. He could smell the dew that dripped from the petals of lilies that once dotted the lake’s surface. Most of all, he could hear the voice of his king, a boisterous laugh that reminded them all that the sun would always dawn tomorrow.

Justin crouched down and touched the surface, watching the waves radiate out and dissipate, eventually settling back down into stillness. The center of the lake was occluded by a dense thick cloud of fog that floated on the water’s edge. Tendrils of grey mist flicked in and out as if they were looking for any unwary traveler to take hold of.

Why did he come here? This place was nothing but a graveyard of memories and lost faith. Did the stranger send him here to take the piss out of him? Justin then spotted an old boat, moss clung to the underside, with a paddle hanging out from the seat.

He’d have to walk the same steps as his king.

Justin pushed the boat off the shore and clambered onto it. The planks creaked underneath his weight as he sat and took hold of the paddle. The water felt like treacle as he cut through the lake with his paddle, pushing the boat ever so closer to the fog. For brief moments, the blanket of fog devoured his senses. It was suffocating as an indistinguishable void permeated everything outside of the boat. He focused on the monotony of rowing, his arms moving back and forth, as he continued to venture deeper and deeper.

The fog then cleared and he saw a small island with a gnarled tree, hooked branches free of leaves. The trunk was hollow and twisted in a helix with glowing runes inscribed onto the bark. The lip of the boat hit the dirt with a thunk and Justin stepped it off slowly. Je reached his hand towards his belt

“ Hello, is anyone there? My name is Justin.”

His voice travelled out back across the lake, growing dim before it echoed back.

“ Justin Inse Ghall.”

“The Shining Knight.”

“ The Last of Arthur’s Men.”

“ Sir Justin.”

The last words made the hair tingle on his back and he turned around to see himself from over a thousand years in the past. A coif of chain mail obscured his sandy hair and his cleft chin remained bare of the overgrown beard that obscured much of his jawline. Thick yellow plates of quilted brigantine covered much of his body, inalid with war scratches and trenches from enemy swords. In the center of his chest, an ornate raven had been stitched on the outer layer, the sigil of his ancestral homelands.

Justin stood agape at his own reflection. Or perhaps, he was the reflection, a pale imitation of who he once was. They stood apart for a while, silent, before Justin spoke up, his voice quiet.

“ I don’t deserve to be called sir. “ He motioned to himself, placing both his hands on his chest. “ You should be ashamed of how much I’ve ignored! Why are we still here?!”

“ What blossoms in the springeth, burgeons in the summ'r, sheds in autumn and dies in wint'r but remains the same und'rneath?” His reflection took a step towards him, his stoic face never changing. “ What did thee seeketh here again?”

“ Faith.” Justin’s face turned away from his reflection, downcast with shame. “ B-but we’ve lost it.”

“ Thee never hath lost thy faith. From thy dunnest nights to thy brightest days, thy faith did remain alive. How can thee feareth, cry, chuckle, rage without faith to fuel?”

“ I’ve seen too much to still have faith,” Justin murmured, voice heavy with defeat as he begun to walk back towards the shore of the isle. Just as he was about to step into the boat, his reflection then chuckled wistfully.

“ So, we hath kept telling ourselves for 9 centuries. Your faith has always been strong, Justin, whether you try to convince yourself otherwise. Arthur knighted you for a reason. ”

Anger flashed in Justin’s heart as he rounded back on his reflection, wanting to strip off that past arrogance, hurt him, show him what he was exactly fighting for. Grass crunched underneath his feet as he pounded his reflection’s armor with a balled fist.

“ My faith is broken!” He kept battering it repeatedly, his blows growing more feeble, as he slid to his reflection’s feet. “ I used to believe that He gave me a purpose to walk the earth for a reason. I thought this eternal life was a blessing and that I could champion the ideals of my King throughout these many ages. Instead, I feel emptier with every passing day. t’s harder to wake up? ”

Justin sobbed before letting out a final plea.

“ Can’t my quest end?”

For brief moments, he was lost in his own world of grief and futility, grabbing onto his reflection like a lifebuoy. Firm hands then grasped his shoulders and pulled him up. His reflection looked upon him sombrely, not with pity, but with patience.

“ Our quest hasn’t ended. The quest never ends, whether you will it to be or not. That is the great burden of knighthood. We fight to honor our oaths and protect those shielded by our vows because that is what a knight does. The call never escapes us, as much as we want to ignore it. To do so would tear apart a knight from the inside.”

“ I haven’t been much of a knight in the last twenty years.”

“ A knight’s greatest strength isn’t in their feats of daring or their renown throughout their lands but their faith. To hold onto faith even when all is lost. You still have faith, Justin. It calls upon you and you must answer.”

Justin suddenly felt a sharp pain blossom in his chest. He looked down to see a sword buried to the hilt, yet, no blood came out. His reflection’s face smiled tenderly as he placed his hand on the handle and gripped it tightly, wracking his body with agony.

“ You must answer the call.”

The words didn’t register in his brain. Black dots swam in his mind as he felt the distinct sensation of sinking in ice. The sounds of his breathing grew shallower before he felt something pull on his ribs as darkness devoured his vision.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

So all day long the noise of battle roll’d

Among the mountains by the winter sea;

Until King Arthur’s table, man by man,

Had fallen in Lyonnesse about their Lord,

---

SHINING KNIGHT: FRAGMENT I

PIETY 1.3


“ Trouble a stranger for a game of chess?”

Justin looked up from the sports section he was reading and rolled his eyes. Of course, it had to be him. The man before him cast no shadow. His cheeks were sunken around his chiseled face with a smirk tilting the edges of his tightly pinched lips upwards. A navy blue trench-coat with gold trimmings cloaked most of his body and the brim of his blue bowler shadowed his eyes.

“ You. ” Justin gently folded the paper before setting it down on the bench he was sitting on. “I can’t remember the last time we conversed. Help me recollect. Was it when you were idling by during the Salem Witch Burnings when I arrived on the shores of the New World for the first time or during the Battle of the Somme when I was drowning under German artillery fire? It’s often hard to see you under all your facade of impartial cowardice that you call neutrality.

The man snapped his fingers and Justin’s paper flashed into flames. Wisps of smoke danced up as it curled upon itself into an ashen pile. Justin rubbed the ashes absentmindedly between his fingers whilst giving a rank look of annoyance at the man.

“ That cost fifty pence. ”

“ You’ll find that what I have to offer is more stimulating than the tabloid rag you were reading. ” The man’s accent was rich with a sonorous baritone that reverbated the air around his head. A chess board appeared in his hand out of nowhere and he shook it invitingly at Justin. Justin shook his head in disbelief before motioning over towards an empty picnic table for the both of them. The Stranger waved his hand and the litter simply faded away like a drop of water on a summer’s day. Justin’s skin shivered. It was a simple miracle that was only a small sliver of what he knew this unassuming looking man could do. Both of them sat down opposite to one another whilst bystanders walked around them, enjoying a walk in the sunny day.

“ I haven’t played in centuries since the Crusades.” Justin said while helping set up the board. “ I might have forgotten the basics.”

“ You’ve forgotten more than just that.” The man’s words made Justin briefly bristle in anger as he moved his pawn first. “ I’ve watched you for centuries, Justin of the Hebrides. You’ve changed in the last sixty years and not for the better I’m afraid.”

“ The world’s changed.” Justin said bitterly. He thumbed his pawn forward haphazardly, considering moving his knight before settling on the bishop, moving it amateurly close to the other side of the board. “ It’s as simple as that. I’m just being less naive about it now than I was before.”

“ If that’s what sheltering yourself away from the world is now.” The stranger continued to make headway into Justin’s side of the board, slowly plucking material off piece by piece. “ Pray tell, what exactly is your plan? You’ve been living as a homeless man in the Thames for the last fifty years and you’ve never taken the opportunity to kill yourself. You’re waiting.”

“ I’m waiting to die. ” Justin grumbled bitterly, moving his queen into open view of the stranger’s pieces. “ Or maybe Justin Inse Ghall died when Camelot fell. It feels like the last nine centuries were me just pretending that every problem was a dragon that could be slain. I feel like a jester on Arthur’s court.”

The stranger seemed to consider Justin’s open bait, his lip curled in contempt, before flicking his king over.

“ You forfeit?,” Justin’s brow arched in confusion as the stranger stood up, adjusting his lapels tightly.

“ There is no meaningful victory to be gained here.” The stranger spat out his next words in disgust like he had eaten a lemon. “ I came here to converse with a warrior of yore, a defender of justice, a good man that once fought for all. Where is the Shining Knight who ventured with Percy of Scandia to retrieve the Ebony Blade? Where is the Shining Knight who defended Jerusalem from the Crusades? Where is the Shining Knight who was a beacon of light for all in the cruel and unjust world? I now see that I was mistaken. Perhaps, you weren’t as brave as I thought you were. You hide here while the world screams for help. That’s all you’ve been doing. Hiding and rotting away in your past to avoid the present.”

Justin flipped the picnic table over to the side, planks of wood crashing on the sodden dirt. The stranger was unfazed as Justin stabbed his finger into his chest several times.

“ The world doesn’t deserve help!,” Justin hurtled the sentence out in one ragged breath. “ I was born in simpler times where thieves were sentenced by kings and everyone spoke to everyone face to face. Now, thieves rule as kings and whispers have become the new way of conversation. I’m an old relic of the past, nothing more!”

The stranger didn’t speak as he gently removed Justin’s finger from his chest and placed his hand on his shoulder. “ You’re wrong. The world has much to learn from the Shining Knight and you must learn to gain what you have lost.”

“ How?,” Justin shook his head, hopelessness on his face “ I can’t even use a bastard sword, much less an epe-”

“I’m not talking about your skills.” The stranger traced a line over Justin’s chest, eventually stopping at his heart. “ I’m talking about your faith.”

“ What do you expect me to do?”

The next words out of the stranger’s mouth seemed to slow down time to a crawl, the sound of Justin’s heart beating in his ear.

“ Find the lake to find yourself again.”

Mirage: Tales of Urth (A Quest)

[X] - Convince the synth that the most logical course of his programming is to become one with the Titans and commit group suicide (Advantage: Ego).

---

“ Why?,” you croak out in a light alto accent, each syllable crisp to preserve every miniscule drop of water you exhale out. “ Why do you abide by the will of the Titans?”

“ Because I was created by them,” The synth said matter of factly.

“ And they are gone. Gone. All that remains of them is the Wall and their bones littered around the Interior. You are nothing more than their trash, tossed out and forgo-”

A fist collides with your face and stars swim in your vision. Hot blood runs down your nose, dripping on your blue skin. You now have the full attention of the synth who is now busy sharpening his knife-like limbs, sparks flying off them with every twitch.

“ I was created by the whims of a grander civilization, Faa. Superior to that of even the Autarchs. The holiness of my code decrees that I am meant for great purpose, more than your desert walkers could ever hope to dream of.” The synth then motions to the rest of his followers. “ I have had enough of this mutant’s mad ramblings. Let us be free of their incessant chatter and explore their flesh for the bounty of information hidden within.”

“ Wait!,” you shout out, one of the followers stopping short of unchaining you. “ Isn’t there a more efficient means of finding out your purpose?”

“ Efficient?” The synth tilts its head in confusion. “ I’m afraid I don’t understand. Efficiency is in every diode of my being - “

“ Please.” You scoff, trying to play yourself off as cocksure, even as the lie you spin twists your tongue. “ Even a Faa like me knows that it is a common fact amongst synths that Titans reside in the data gales that stream from the lands of Golgotha to Gnomon.”

“ The data gales. That is the most irrational - “ The synth pauses as it looks down at its knife like hands in wonderment. “ Yes, yes, how else I could hear their whispers. Their code packets, I’ve been unconsciously receiving them in my circuits…..”

The synth pauses before regarding the rest of his followers. “ The quest is now clear. The Titans await us in the aether above, the remnants of their programming still broadcasting in the air. My followers, let us commune with their minds as one and bask in the glory of the first Thinkers!”

The sound of unsheathing blades fills the air as you watch each and every one of them stab themselves in the stomach. You watch as their water sloshes out of their open bellies onto the phtalo sands as they gurgle simultaneously in nirvana. Then, the camp is silent.

You have chosen Ego as your primary stat of choice.

Character Sheet

Name: Cirrus

Ancestry: Faa Nomad

STRENGTH: 12

DEXTERITY: 13

CONSTITUITION: 13

INTELLIGENCE: 11

PSYCHE: 13

EGO: 15

Reason For Leaving Clan: A Need To Wander

HP: 2

INVENTORY: [13 AVALIABLE SLOTS]

With difficulty, you manage to grab a key from a cultist who conveniently killed himself next to you and free yourself of your bonds. The camp is sparsely maintained and is rudimentary compared to most Vaarnish outposts. You have seen cacklemaw dens that are better organized. You also discover that prying the laser rifles from their bodies is useless, as you discover that it is integrated within their very flesh.

There’s little else remaining except for a mound of chrome garbage and scrap situated next to the campfire. After hours of searching, you manage to find something useful in your rust-smeared fingers.

Choose an Exotica

[X] - An outline of a sickled knife shaped from shimmering candle-light. The iconography of Amun-Oh is stamped on the hilt; a scarab with eight legs and a snake’s tail is stamped on the hilt.

[X] - A luminous flower with cracked, shattered petals. It smells faintly of burnt root syrup.

[X] - A locked metallic box with numerous biometric padlocks. Sounds of loud squawking can be heard from the inside.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

It’s the same nightmare every night.

The impressions change but the thread is woven the same.

A castle in ruin. A bloodied blade in my hand.

A kingdom on fire. A knight lost to time.

---

SHINING KNIGHT: FRAGMENT I

PIETY 1.2

---

The air is cold enough that he can see his breath coagulating in the frigid wind. Puffs of pale white issue from his mouth with each exhale. He’s faced more merciless winters but those are with the assistance of hearths the size of hallways. He has nothing except the warmth of his own blood as his arms circle around his torso in a deathly grip. It’s only an hour before the shelter opens back up and already, his skin is numb and his fingers feel like thick boiled leather.

Justin sighs and looks up from under the shadow of the Thames to his fellow companions. Flanagan was busy stroking the back of one of his rats. The rodent was arching its spine with every affectionate poke that his friend gave. Another one was taking a long drag of his pipe, fiddling with the end to stuff more tobacco in . The rest were in various states of languid napping and restless sightseeing, awaiting the moment for when the homeless shelter would open their gates and let them in.

A soft bark rang out to the air and Justin turned his head to see a dog imp towards him. One of his paws is hung up, twitching, as he moves on his three legs. His long, matted fur glistens with damp rain as a trail of water drips behind his wagging tail. Justin tries to ignore it until he feels the brush of a wet nose against his arms.

“Go away,” Justin murmurs in annoyance, pushing away the dog’s jaw. The dog whined in complaint before continuing to prod him incessantly as if it had mistook him for its master. Justin stood up, his shadow looming over the mutt. “ I said, go away - “

“ I will not, ser knight,” The dog said.

Justin stumbled onto the ground in shock, his back landing onto the slick concrete hard. The absurdity of seeing a talking dog overwhelmed any sense of pain that he had to a dull ache in the back of his mind. The dog was no longer limping and it had seemed to grow three sizes in full. Its eyes glowed with sinister green hues and the fur seemed to writhe in the shadows as if it was a second living skin.

“ I charge thee upon the laws of the Pentecost.” The dog spoke again in a commanding tone. “ You have forgotten your oaths. Finish it or risk damnation, ser. ”

Breathing fast, Justin narrowed his eyes and summoned the strength to look at the dog’s eyes. Damned Gurt dogs. He thought them all extinct and domesticated by the Age of the Gunpowder. Justin snorted before shrugging his shoulders and looking away from the supernatural creature who could rip his throat out in an instance.

“ No.”

“ That was not an offer - “

“ And so?” Justin’s head whipped back as he spat out his next words sarcastically. “ Do you see any court here? Any king to arbitrate my punishment if I don’t abide? There is no oath to honor in this age. They are dead and so will you and I, foul spirit. Go back to the netherrealms from whence your master dwells and tell him to go fuck himself.”

The Gurt hound tilted its head down, considering Justin’s words, before speaking once more.

“ Perhaps what you say is true, but what matters is that your knightley oaths remain unfulfilled.”

“ What if I choose not to obey them?”

“ Then, -” The dog paused for effect. “ you invite a punishment on your soul of your own will.”

“ What would you have me do?,” Justin replied, the ebbing tide of the Thames echoing off the underside of the bridge.

“ Start by listening more carefully, ser knight, and the path will be made clear.”

The Gurt hound then walked into the shadows and melded with it, sinking into the darkness until its shape was no longer visible. The sound of rabid howling was left in its wake, haunting Justin’s memory until he would return back to the shelter.

Mirage: Tales of Urth (A Quest)

If anyone is watching, I need a tiebreaker between two of the votes being chosen right now.