towerofanimus | The Tale of Sir Lancelot

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The Tale of Sir Lancelot - part 1. Dolorous Guard

Characters: Sir Lancelot, aka the Servant Berserker, and All & Sundry
Setting: All Around the Tower
Format: Prose and Action are Both Welcome
Summary: Having just lately arrived, Sir Lancelot is in search of his Master
Warnings: No Warnings at Present. Unless you are a Monster, then look out.

Your world has been destroyed...

Lancelot, for he knows himself at the moment, is largely unmoved by the strange letters. He destroyed his own world long ago.

At the moment he is more concerned with his immediate surroundings, the mysterious clothing (and the collar) on his body, and the absence of his Master. His last memories before waking are of fire, of wind, and of thwarted rage. But he feels nothing now save a grim wariness. If this is indeed a Reality Marble, it is a mysterious one, and might contain anything. If an event caused by the Grail itself, then he can only meet what will come. If a device of his Master's-- Lancelot finds himself less than pleased with the idea.

Alone in the room where he has woken, he wastes no time in materializing his armor, and, as the situation seems an unusually urgent one, his sword. Both are as black as ever. His helm he leaves, as in carrying his blade he will be known regardless. He does not open the chest.

Reaching out to his Master, Lancelot is gratified to detect a faint pull. He will follow it, wherever it leads.

The Dormitory Hallways
Lancelot makes his way along the hallways nearby, but not limited to, 3-02. Any monsters he encounters, he will fight and slay. Any people he encounters, he will speak with.

The Cafeteria
Unable to pinpoint his Master's location, Lancelot proceeds to the bottom of the Tower. He is intrigued by the Cafeteria, and also by the idea of eating, which he has not done since he was living. He finds the idea of eating food in this place to be problematic, as he wonders if it might not be cursed or enchanted in some way. Being reared by Faeries will leave one with such ideas. Still, he's aware how important it can be to abide by the rules of magic in a possibly magical place. You'll find him stirring his oatmeal contemplatively.

Floor 10: The Aquarium
In the midst of continuing his search, Lancelot is distracted in the Aquarium. Water draws him like nothing else. He finds it calming, even now, in spite of his agitation at following his Master's poor prana signature. This water, obviously enchanted as it is not contained, is full of life. He shouldn't dally long here, but the sight is lovely, and it's difficult to resist stopping a moment.

Floor 25: The Meadow
This would indeed be an odd place for Lancelot to find his Master. Usually, the magus huddles unseen in dark corners, sewers, alleyways, and the like. He's searched in such places, and slain some few Monsters in the process, but has yet to find his Master. Still, there is a refreshing breeze here, and no obvious threat.

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Lancelot is unimpressed by these arguments, and he does not bother to mask this emotion.

"I do not know what has passed between you and my Master in this place. Doubtless you have the advantage of me in knowledge of the man. But my contract with him is inviolate and where he goes I must follow. It was not I who summoned him, and made him Mad and so drained my life.

I did not come to this place of my own will. In our late Battle, he was nearly killed and so I was unable to prevail on his behalf. Now I seek him here, and I will find him."

"I do not need him to survive. But I will have answers from him, and I will return my Master and myself to the field."

"And what if I was to say he's not actually your master despite how things might look and feel?" Diarmuid asks, taking a step forward. He's not being aggressive, though. Instead, he's hoping to use the movement to force himself to relax. Anger and tension are his enemies since they so quickly drain what little mental energy he has.

"They tell us that no matter how unbelievable it may seem each and every one of us come from a different world. Even if we remember things exactly the same, something happened to set our realities onto different paths," Diarmuid isn't sure if he believes this himself since there seems to be proof both ways, but that isn't something he is going to debate now. "So there is no way he can be your Master. Your Master died when your world did. Leave the Kariya here be. He deserves his peace and rest."

Lancelot's slight smile is a grave thing.

"My World ended long ago, Servant Lancer. Believe as you will, but I will not trust or fear the unproven word of the unseen Masters of this fell place. Though I know no peace myself, it seems unlike a place of any peace or wholesome rest to me."

"My Master is a weak man in both body and mind, but these things are not of my doing. I do not seek to harm him-- though I will not hide that there is little understanding between us and I find myself frustrated in my task by his actions. I will find him whether you aid me or no, for I do feel his presence through the contract, and I will go to him. Whatever else I may be, and however sworn, I am his Knight."

"Wait, so you can feel him? The connection between you is active and recognizes him as your master?" Diarmuid seems shocked by this and he brings a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "If that is true, then what they say cannot be, right?"

Diarmuid's voice seems confused and his eyes also show that confusion. Despite having spoken those words as if they were the truth, he has been going back and forth on whether he actually believes them to be or not.

This really seems to push him not the not believing category.

He takes a deep breath, refocusing himself and then looks back at Berserker, "I'm sorry. I will readily admit I am not in the best shape to be making arguments like these. I am questioning so many things about the very nature of this place at the moment, that it is hard for me to be sure of anything. If the contract is active as you say, then their words must be false. I do not believe a contract would recognize a different version of a person as the same person.

"Tell me, how it is that you are not berserk now? It is because he was so near death when you were brought here? Did that cancel the Enchantment? If so, perhaps you will not be so much of a strain on him as I thought..."

This strange place of strange beings seems to affect even those he does know, even so slightly as this Lancer, strangely. But the man is by rights a Knight, and Lancelot will treat him as one. He does wonder if he is not the only one not completely in his right mind. But surely, he must blame the Tower.

"I do feel him, though this place does seem to confuse the bond. It might indeed be that what they say of ourselves is true, that we might live different stories all, but it is most certainly true that this man is the Master who summoned me to the Grail War. Perhaps the Powers here have no interest in your being sure of anything, Lancer. Perhaps they exploit your nature and your hopes to their own ends. I cannot say for certain, but I do believe you are right to question the answers you have been given."

As Lancelot relaxes his stance, he bows his head briefly, allowing his unbound hair to fall around his face. He should find a tie, but at the moment, comforts matter little.

"You have the right of it, I think. He so weakened himself through injury that I lost form. When I awoke here, the spell had lapsed-- only he can reinstate it."

A look of mild exasperation crosses Lancelot's face. Though he might hide within it betimes, he considers himself burdened by the Enhancement overall and finds his Master's hard reliance upon it nearly insulting.

"The strain he feels is no fault of mine. I am fit to win the Grail without the spell. But I have never spoken to the man, only listened to him bear the pain that comes of his curse. I would council him differently, but he is as willful in mind as he is weak in body."

"I believe you are completely correct on that point. The people in charge here do everything they can to confuse us. I suspect the more confused we are, the less likely we are to actually be able to successfully organize some kind of resistance," Diarmuid pauses and takes a deep breath before bowing to the other servant.

"Forgive me. I would like to start this meeting over if I may. This place...has not been good for my mental state especially considering the betrayal I faced during the war. Still, it is no excuse for me to be so rude. I may not know your identity, but you are still a hero and deserving of respect.

"I never stopped to think of how hard this must be for you. To be forced to fight with your senses stripped away through no fault of your own," Diarmuid shakes his head. "And perhaps your skills limited as well. It would be the same as summoning Cu Chulainn into such a class. A waste... So much lost."

He is quiet a moment lost in thought before speaking again, "I have heard different from Kariya, but if you two have never talked I would not be surprised if you misunderstand each other. He is very focused on his goal. Willful as you say. In some ways, to the exclusion of everything else, even his own health. I wish he would be more willing to let others fight for him. His goal is a noble one, but it cannot be completed if he is dead."

He finds all of this a bit dazzling. This place must surely tax the minds and hearts of the brave to affect Heroic Spirits so.
"I confess I do not know of any goal my Master has apart from gaining the Grail, for he has not told me. I will ask him this also when I do find him.

As for my forgiveness, you need not ask it, but I give it freely all the same. This place seems set to tax our senses and minds. But though your words are gentle, and Enhancement does me ill, I was rightly Summoned.
You may have my name. I am Sir Lancelot, Knight of the Lake." Lancelot bows his head gravely, yes he can see the strain in this Knight.

"I have not yet faced you in Battle, yet you say were betrayed and speak of the War as though it were ended for you. What fate came to you, before you came to this place, Lancer?"

"He fears you. He has said as much, but this place has given you two a wonderful chance to learn about each other. That way, when you return to the war, you will be even stronger and more likely to win. Despite there being those here who claim you cannot win the war no matter what, I will not believe. Your master's goal is noble and this chance maybe all you need to prove her wrong."

The color drains from his face slightly when Berserker introduces himself. Diarmuid then bows deeply, "I am honored Sir Lancelot. I had no idea...and yet now much makes more sense. You knew her true identity even through the haze of the Enchantment, didn't you? That is why you focused on her.

"Allow me to return the favor you have shown me. I am Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, First Warrior of the Fianna. I am very honored to meet you. I speak as I do because the war is over for me. I...my master never trusted me and when he was offered the chance to escape the war he chose it. The price of that escape was my life," Diarmuid's eyes drop to the side. "I was forced to kill myself in the middle of an honorable duel with Saber."

Such betrayal and dishonor. It's difficult for Lancelot to keep the horror from off his face.
"I-- the Enhancement makes evils of all my desires. Indeed, I would know my King whatever, but there is much that lies between us unrepaired. But what you speak of, for your Master to dishonor you so-- Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, First Warrior of the Fianna, the honor is mine. You fought well, and were a true Knight."

"As for any here who doubt my prowess, or my Master's will, though he might fear me, they will have proofs. I will not be denied.
Though need not tell you that so much depends upon my Master's choices. He does not even know what he fears. Indeed, I reckon I am little more than a means to an end in his eyes.

What does he fear from me, if you may speak of it?"

"Thank you. Your words do me great honor. However, don't trouble yourself with my end. It cannot be changed. For now, we should focus on what can be changed, those who can be helped," Diarmuid sighs. "I don't know exactly why he fears you. I just know he does and perhaps it is best I don't tell you that type of thing anyway. That is probably something that is best spoke of between you two alone to avoid even more misunderstandings."

"As for those who doubt you and your master, that is something harder to deal with as so many things are in this place," Diarmuid runs a hand through his hair. "There are actually two versions of your king here, both from times long after the fourth war. One is still very similar to the Saber I knew then and the other less so for she has somehow become changed." He almost says 'corrupted,' but since she is so secretive about herself, he decides not to. "It is she who doubts your chances at victory."

"By your account, I have much to speak of with my Master-- and with she who once was my King, twice over. I do thank you for your good counsel."

Lancelot seems to feel the weight of these conversations already. But he bears things privately, for the most part, and so he masks his emotions.

"Do you find then, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, that you are able to aid the weak and unskilled even in this perilous place? It has been longer than long since I was myself and offered aid that was accepted.

Tell me of your works here, and of others who feel as you do."

"I do try. There are so many dangers in this place and those dangers have recently doubled. Shortly before you arrived, in the space of just an hour, the tower literally doubled in size," Diarmuid puts his hands out in front of himself in a helpless motion. "No one can explain how it was done. We all lost an hour of time and 'awoke' to find 50 more floors of terror in this place. I spent a great deal of time patrolling the floors in those days attempting to help all those who stumbled onto the floors unaware of their dangers."

And he had succeeded and he had failed. He had saved lives and lost his own.

"Recently, though, I have had to curtail my patrols. I am a warrior and a hero, but the mental trials this place has been putting on me have begun to make it so I cannot do the things I should be able to," Diarmuid pauses a moment, lips pressed tightly together. "Perhaps that instability is obvious to you--one constantly so close to mental fracture as you are. I am trying now to rest more so that when I can help people it is true help and not some accident waiting to happen."

"I beg of you to please watch yourself. Servants may seem immortal here because we are no longer reliant on our masters for energy and do not need to eat or sleep, but while our bodies may be stronger than most peoples, are minds are still far too human and they will break if pushed too far." He looks down in silence for a moment before continuing, "I am fortunate that I have friends who are watching out for me and have taken up the slack my weakness has left behind. Soon, I hope to rejoin them in trying to make this place safer for all of us."

Lancelot nods, contemplating Lancer's words. It is true, strain shows plainly in the First Warrior of the Fianna. He gives a grim little smile at the mention of his own sanity.

"I am too lately arrived to make hard judgements about my fellow Servants in this place, but you speak the truth-- I can see you have taxed yourself harshly, and that this place acts upon your nature for ill.

Though I do not fear death or pain, I cannot think how I might be affected in mind. The instability of my class may well prove an ill thing in this place. I will guard myself as best I may."

"If I may aid you in anyway, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, then I will do so-- though unlike you, I am bound to a certain extent by my Master's will in this place. Or will be so, when I have found him.
There is strength in greater numbers, after all."

"Any help is greatly appreciated since I know you and many others are bound to focus your attentions elsewhere. It's why I've worked myself so hard. I don't have those responsibilities, so I can help in more places." A sadness enters his eyes, "Or so I thought. As you say, this place has used that against me. Now I know better.

"Actually, I am glad you are here now to help Kariya. I really wish to see him succeed, but this place has played with us so much. It seems we spend more time together with our minds somehow altered than we get to spend in our right minds. It makes getting anything done very...difficult. I really feel like I have not done nearly enough for him.

"Your own mental state might not be the best, but the more aware of it you are, I think the less likely the tower will able to use it against you. I didn't realize at first just how badly off I was. Now that I am aware, I hope that awareness will make it harder for the tower to use that against me."

Indeed, I will make doubly sure to guard myself against the influence of the Tower. I would not have it lead me somehow towards Madness. That is not a strategy I would use here.

As for my Master, I'm sure you have done only your best him in my absence, Diarmuid Ua Duibhne, and so I thank you.

[In fact, he's sure the man did so with a better will towards Kariya than he himself feels.]

I should seek him elsewhere, as I have not found him here-- I could remain, but to wait here in this meadow feels too tempting a prospect.

I will say in parting that I regret having caused you distress by my appearance. your speech was noble, and I understand your alarm. [Lancelot gives a brief bow of his head, and a very, very slight smile.]

Should you ever wish to spar, however, I would gladly meet you on a field of your choosing.

Diarmuid returns the bow with one of his own.

"I have tried and will continue to do so as long as he wishes my assistance. I am sorry for reacting how I did. With everything going on...," he pauses and the waves a hand dismissively. "No matter. You have forgiven me it, so I will waste no more words on it. When I see Kariya next, I will let him know you are here so that if you have not already found him, he will know to look for you and that you mean him no harm."

A gentle, grateful look crosses Diarmuid's face at Lancelot's last words, "I am honored. I would very much like that sometime when things have settled and my mind is more at ease. It wouldn't do for me to face you at anything other than my best."

As you say, you have my forgiveness-- though you do not require it, for I am what I am, in aspect and in purpose. A fell warning.

[Ah, a spar. A real, actual spar. It's been so long. If one didn't know better, one might think Lancelot nearly looks pleased.]
I would expect nothing less than his best from the First Knight of the Fianna. I will await your pleasure in this with much anticipation.

[Diarmuid does catch just a bit of that pleased look and it causes the look on his face to shift into an excited smile.]

And I will expect no less than that from a knight such as you, Sir Lancelot. Good luck in finding your master.

[He bows again to Lancelot, and then turns and leaves the meadow. Diarmuid had come to the meadow in hopes of spending a little time with Kariya to bring some ease to his heart and mind. He might not have found Kariya, but strangely enough, his heart and mind do seem a little more at ease now.]

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The Tale of Sir Lancelot - part 1. Dolorous Guard

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