Medieval

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<span class="title">Bataleur</span> <span class="author">by <a href="https://mecherez.itch.io" target="_blank">Mecheres</a></span>

<<nobr>> <li><<link "credits">><<script>> Dialog.setup("Credits"); Dialog.wiki(Story.get("credits").processText()); Dialog.open(); <</script>><</link>></li> <</nobr>>

<<set $chapter to "chapter one">><<if visited() is 1>><<if settings.notifications>><<notify 3s>>THE BEGINNING<</notify>><</if>><</if>>\ Say what...? *[[Echo park elit austin DIY dolor edison bulb letterpress.|2]] *[[Organic consectetur 8-bit cronut schlitz DIY leggings.|2]]

/* define your story variables here */

/* custom widgets go in here */ <<widget "are">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>are<<case false>>is<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "were">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>were<<case false>>was<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "s">><<switch $plural>><<case true>><<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "es">><<switch $plural>><<case true>><<case false>>es<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "re">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>re<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>> <<widget "ve">><<switch $plural>><<case true>>ve<<case false>>s<</switch>><</widget>>

Another page to do whatever you want with! I really just wanted another page to fill out the footer menu<3 ---- !Heading 1 !!Heading 2 !!!Heading 3 <<cycle "$cycling" autoselect>> <<option "Cycling link 1">> <<option "Cycling link 2">> <<option "Cycling link 3">> <</cycle>> <<textbox "$textbox" "Type here...">><<button "Submit">><</button>> * List item 1 * List item 2 * List item 3 <<button "Return" $return>><</button>>

[[Sugarcube 2 Documentation|https://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/2/docs]] [[The Twine Cookbook|https://twinery.org/cookbook/index.html]] [[OpenDyslexic Font by Abbie Gonzalez|https://opendyslexic.org]] [[Notify Macro by Chapel|https://github.com/ChapelR/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2]] [[Live Update Macro by Cycy|https://github.com/cyrusfirheir/cycy-wrote-custom-macros]] [[Twine/Sugarcube 2 Template by a.w. morgan|https://awmorgan.itch.io/twine-sugarcube-template]] !!Dev Note Thank you to Vahnya, nyehilism, cerberus, Grim and others for your resources on how to use Twine, especially for someone like me who has no idea what any of the silly brackets mean. I appreciate your work for the community, and I love the things you are doing. You all inspire me, greatly. With love, Jens <4

<<set $they to "They">><<set $plural to true>>\ Here's an example of how the 'Live Update' macro by Cycy works: *<<link "She/Her">><<set $they to "She">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>> *<<link "He/Him">><<set $they to "He">><<set $plural to false>><<update>><</link>> *<<link "They/Them">><<set $they to "They">><<set $plural to true>><<update>><</link>> <<liveblock>> $they <<are>> super fun and love<<s>> cupcakes. <</liveblock>> You can also use it to update the dialog labels! Try it by opening the settings menu and toggling the dialog labels button :) <<liveblock>> *<<link "Choice with flirt label $flirt_label" "4">><</link>> *<<link "Choice with info label $info_label" "4">><</link>> <</liveblock>>

Some helpful resources: [[Sugarcube 2 Documentation|https://www.motoslave.net/sugarcube/2/docs]] [[Twine Cookbook|https://twinery.org/cookbook]] [[Beginner’s Guide to Twine 2.1|http://www.adamhammond.com/twineguide]] [[The Twine Grimoires|https://gcbaccaris.itch.io]] [[Quick Twine Tutorial|https://catn.decontextualize.com/twine]] [[r/twinegames|https://www.reddit.com/r/twinegames]] Macros/Sample code: [[Chapel's Custom Macros|https://github.com/ChapelR/custom-macros-for-sugarcube-2]] [[Cycy's Custom Macros|https://github.com/cyrusfirheir/cycy-wrote-custom-macros]] [[HIEv's Sample Code|https://qjzhvmqlzvoo5lqnrvuhmg-on.drv.tw/UInv/Sample_Code.html#Main%20Menu]] Other Sugarcube 2 templates: [[1 by Cerberus|https://ccrberus.itch.io/twine-sugarcube-template]] [[2 by Vahnya|https://vahnya.itch.io/twine-template]] [[3 by Nyehilism|https://nyehilism.itch.io/sugarcube-template]] [[4 by Nyehilism|https://nyehilism.itch.io/twine-template]] [[5 by Strandworks|https://strandworks.itch.io/gradient-template]]

"Please, my love. Do not do this to me. To us." She is speaking, but her words are nothing more than a buzz that crackles in his ears and makes his skin itch. He glares, a fire burning under his chest that threatens to claw its way out. There is no longer warmth in his gaze, no longer the same resplendent and dulcet tones as he coddled the woman in his bed; no longer the same gentleness in his words as there once were in his hands. Shame drips and bleeds into his fingertips as they dig into the fat of his lover's arms, and the smell of copper permeates the air. "You cannot do this... Please, it is your child." Her sobs echo in the halls, and they follow her as she is pulled from the room and thrown onto the marble. She clutches her waist, and lets loose a cry that shatters stars. The halls are empty and barren, the hushed servants seeking shelter where they cannot be seen like mice. There is only the King. His firstborn listens with his cheek pressed against the door, eyes. struggling to adjust to the moonless night that slips past his curtains. There is a flutter of black wings and the smell of burning oil, and it shoos him away to his bed where he dreams a dreamless sleep. Young and afraid, he did not question his father the next day, or the next, or the next. There is something angry, wrathful, something sacrosanct being born. It is godly, and it is unkind. [[That was the day, King Arthur was born.->Travel]]

!CHAPTER ONE

[["Sir?"->Sir __]] [["Lady?"->Lady __]] [["Ser?"->Ser __]]

[["Sir Mordred?"|Sir Mordred]]

[["Lady Morgana?"->Lady Morgana]]

[["Ser Madoc?"|Ser Madoc]]

!End of Teaser HI!!!!!!!! thanks for reading! this is the end of the current build! Chapter 2 will include!!!! - Arthur stealing your clothes - Guin chewing on her nails - Poe chewing on your HAIR - Sir Kay. (standing_man_emoji) - Merlin slays Please contact me or whatever blah blah blah my socials and stuff are in the blurb below the .html im always online on discord if you want to chat, im a silly little person :o) muah muah ily ily

"Lady Morgana!" You blink the sleep from your eyes, making a small noise of contempt. The arms around your waist gently pat at you to shake you awake. "I was calling your name, my lady. Are you quite alright?" It takes you a moment to adjust to the orange glow all around you, but you nod. "Simply resting my eyes, dear Accolon." "I am sorry for waking you, but we are almost to the crossroads. We are to be met by an escort." The escort in question, was sent from the capital. A royal British guard, perhaps? They were unknown to you—as was most of the information in the parcel you received—but it was an important summons that required you to arrive at Camelot //post haste//. It did not ask nor deign for a reply, and instead gave coordinates and a location to meet an entourage. "Is Poe alright?" Poe was a black and white gelding, gifted to you as a present on your seventeenth birthday. He was a gorgeous horse, splotches of white over his black coat and a blaze that left his mouth and nose a soft pink. His eyes were wide and expressive, a fathomless dark brown that helped him look more spiteful if he ever was denied a sugar cube or beetroot. Poe was roughly ten years old now, but he was nonetheless a reliable steed. His temperment truly preceeded the average horse, especially for his age. Accolon hums, before leaning around your shoulder to pat the small strip of exposed neck. "You always had a penchant for pretty things. Is the soft leather and the chainmail necessary? But I digress. He's a sturdy boy, he should be fine. Just need to give him some treats when we get a chance to rest, yes?" You laugh, leaning back and shoving Accolon away gently. "You are too close to me, you foolish man." You can practically hear him smile, and he resigns to leaning away and straightening his back. "We have been close for what feels like millenia, my lady. Do you not enjoy it when I forgo professionalism?" He did have a point, really. Accolon was your vassal, who dropped everything to follow you on your pilgrimage. When you silently packed up what little things of value you had that would be important for a trip such as this, he begged to come along with you. Neither of you told your father where you would be going; the summons after all asked for personal discretion. You were not sure you would be missed that greatly by your siblings or your father regardless, and in your youth it was much the same. The only one there for you was Accolon, as it had always been. When he was assigned to you he was a gangly boy around your age, who struggled to wield a greatsword and instead used a bow. Now, he was a tall and handsome man who commanded attention in any room he set foot in, and at his waist was a magnificent blade forged with exemplary steel from the Royal foundry. His armor was steel with black oxide, causing it to take a dark blue and almost black coloration. Brass rivets and strips along with leather fastenings with nickel-plated buckles complimented the soft reds of his gambeon that peeked through. [[Not to mention he was... attractive.|Acc Desc]]

"Sir Mordred!" You blink the sleep from your eyes, making a small noise of contempt. You feel a shoulder knock into yours, and you groan before tightening your grip around the assaliants waist. "I was calling your name, my lord. Are you quite alright?" It takes you a moment to adjust to the orange glow all around you, but you nod. "Simply resting my eyes, dear Accolon." "I am sorry for waking you, but we are almost to the crossroads. We are to be met by an escort." The escort in question, was sent from the capital. A royal British guard, perhaps? They were unknown to you—as was most of the information in the parcel you received—but it was an important summons that required you to arrive at Camelot //post haste//. It did not ask nor deign for a reply, and instead gave coordinates and a location to meet an entourage. "Is Poe alright?" Poe was a black and white gelding, gifted to you as a present on your seventeenth birthday. He was a gorgeous horse, splotches of white over his black coat and a blaze that left his mouth and nose a soft pink. His eyes were wide and expressive, a fathomless dark brown that helped him look more spiteful if he ever was denied a sugar cube or beetroot. Poe was roughly ten years old now, but he was nonetheless a reliable steed. His temperment truly preceeded the average horse, especially for his age. Accolon hums, leaning away from you to pat the horses exposed neck. "You always had a penchant for pretty things. Is the soft leather and the chainmail necessary? But I digress. He's a sturdy boy, he should be fine. Just need to give him some treats when we get a chance to rest, yes?" You laugh, feeling Accolon straighten his back and promptly resting it against your chest. You can practically hear him smile, and he continues to lean until you have to grab his shoulders to stop him. "You are too close to me, you foolish man." "We have been close for what feels like millenia, my lord. Do you not enjoy it when I forgo professionalism?" He did have a point, really. Accolon was your vassal, who dropped everything to follow you on your pilgrimage. When you silently packed up what little things of value you had that would be important for a trip such as this, he begged to come along with you. Neither of you told your father where you would be going; the summons after all asked for personal discretion. You were not sure you would be missed that greatly by your siblings or your father regardless, and in your youth it was much the same. The only one there for you was Accolon, as it had always been. When he was assigned to you he was a gangly boy around your age, who struggled to wield a greatsword and instead used a bow. Now, he was a tall and handsome man who commanded attention in any room he set foot in, and at his waist was a magnificent blade forged with exemplary steel from the Royal foundry. His armor was steel with black oxide, causing it to take a dark blue and almost black coloration. Brass rivets and strips along with leather fastenings with nickel-plated buckles complimented the soft reds of his gambeon that peeked through. [[Not to mention he was... attractive.|Acc 2 Desc]]

"Ser Madoc!" You blink the sleep from your eyes, making a small noise of contempt. You feel a hand pat your face, and you swat it away. "I was calling your name, my liege. Are you quite alright?" It takes you a moment to adjust to the orange glow all around you, but you nod. "Simply resting my eyes, dear Accolon." "I am sorry for waking you, but we are almost to the crossroads. We are to be met by an escort." The escort in question, was sent from the capital. A royal British guard, perhaps? They were unknown to you—as was most of the information in the parcel you received—but it was an important summons that required you to arrive at Camelot //post haste//. It did not ask nor deign for a reply, and instead gave coordinates and a location to meet an entourage. "Is Poe alright?" Poe was a black and white gelding, gifted to you as a present on your seventeenth birthday. He was a gorgeous horse, splotches of white over his black coat and a blaze that left his mouth and nose a soft pink. His eyes were wide and expressive, a fathomless dark brown that helped him look more spiteful if he ever was denied a sugar cube or beetroot. Poe was roughly ten years old now, but he was nonetheless a reliable steed. His temperment truly preceeded the average horse, especially for his age. Accolon hums, adjusting himself in the saddle to pat the exposed neck of your horse. "You always had a penchant for pretty things. Is the soft leather and the chainmail necessary? But I digress. He's a sturdy boy, he should be fine. Just need to give him some treats when we get a chance to rest, yes?" You laugh, feeling Accolon relax. Quietly you begin to muss with his hair, tucking some behind his ears. He leans into your touch, and you hear him sigh. "You are enjoying this an awful lot. Aren't you my vassal?" You feel his smile against your fingertips as you tug his ear. "We have been close for what feels like millenia, my lord. Do you not enjoy it when I forgo professionalism?" He did have a point, really. Accolon was your vassal, who dropped everything to follow you on your pilgrimage. When you silently packed up what little things of value you had that would be important for a trip such as this, he begged to come along with you. Neither of you told your father where you would be going; the summons after all asked for personal discretion. You were not sure you would be missed that greatly by your siblings or your father regardless, and in your youth it was much the same. The only one there for you was Accolon, as it had always been. When he was assigned to you he was a gangly boy around your age, who struggled to wield a greatsword and instead used a bow. Now, he was a tall and handsome man who commanded attention in any room he set foot in, and at his waist was a magnificent blade forged with exemplary steel from the Royal foundry. His armor was steel with black oxide, causing it to take a dark blue and almost black coloration. Brass rivets and strips along with leather fastenings with nickel-plated buckles complimented the soft reds of his gambeon that peeked through. [[Not to mention he was... attractive.|Acc 3 Desc]]

When he first arrived, he was the same size as you. His hair was shaved and he had peach fuzz and a pathetic mustache that he was always worried about. //"I don't want to shave it! I want to grow it thicker,"// he always said. When he got older, and started eating like a starving dog, he filled out his armor perfectly and his jawline fluffed to the point that he had to regularly trim it to keep it from scruffing up. He got... Tall. Unbelievably tall, really. The tallest person you knew. He loomed over everyone else in the Royal Guard and dwarfed you. Lots of people took this at face value and associated him being scary or intimidating, but he really never did change from his childhood; he was still sweet and kind and when he wasn't stationed at your door he'd go help the tavern owner's mother bring in her baskets from the market, or help load sales onto the back of mule carts. He was handsome, and even you could agree with that. The handmaidens in Lothian often times called the two of you an item; you both were gorgeous together. The raven and the wolf, you were both called. One night, there was a ball in collection with clergy members who your father sought an audience with. Lords and barons from all across came in attendance, and you were pressured into bringing a guest. Of course, you chose your personal knight. No one batted an eye when you strode in, your long black hair left down and only adorned with a circlet. It was odd perhaps, to not braid or plait your hair, but you preferred it loose. It did nothing but compliment your features, if anything, so no one truly complained. Accolon struggled with adjusting to the fact he wasn't allowed to wear armor, and circumvented this by wearing chainmail that left him rattling when he moved too much. This was the only day he shaved his face bare, and you made a quiet comment towards the end of the night that you preferred his beard; without it he looked like a scared little deer. It was a funny scene to witness when he reached for a drink from a passing servant, and shook their hand in thanks. His arm clanged and clinged, and he wore a blush that burned into his ears and cheeks as he excused himself after receiving a few odd looks. [[You draw your attention back to the present day when you feel a tap on your shoulder.|crossroad]]

When he first arrived, he was the same size as you. His hair was shaved and he had peach fuzz and a pathetic mustache that he was always worried about. //"I don't want to shave it! I want to grow it thicker,"// he always said. When he got older, and started eating like a starving dog, he filled out his armor perfectly and his jawline fluffed to the point that he had to regularly trim it to keep it from scruffing up. He got... Tall. Unbelievably tall, really. The tallest person you knew. He loomed over everyone else in the Royal Guard and dwarfed you. Lots of people took this at face value and associated him being scary or intimidating, but he really never did change from his childhood; he was still sweet and kind and when he wasn't stationed at your door he'd go help the tavern owner's mother bring in her baskets from the market, or help load sales onto the back of mule carts. He was handsome, and even you could agree with that. The handmaidens in Lothian often times called the two of you a double threat; you both were gorgeous. The raven and the wolf, you were both called. One night, there was a ball in collection with clergy members who your father sought an audience with. Lords and barons from all across came in attendance, and you were pressured into bringing a guest. Of course, you chose your personal knight. No one batted an eye when you strode in, only compliments on your new haircut that kept your hair above your ears. One lady even directly touched you, adjusting the circlet on your head with a flirtatious wink. Accolon however, struggled with adjusting to the fact he wasn't allowed to wear armor, and circumvented this by wearing chainmail that left him rattling when he moved too much. This was the only day he shaved his face bare, and you made a quiet comment towards the end of the night that you preferred his beard; without it he looked like a scared little deer. It was a funny scene to witness when he reached for a drink from a passing servant, and shook their hand in thanks. His arm clanged and clinged, and he wore a blush that burned into his ears and cheeks as he excused himself after receiving a few odd looks. [[You draw your attention back to the present day when Accolon nudged you again.|crossroad2]]

When he first arrived, he was the same size as you. His hair was shaved and he had peach fuzz and a pathetic mustache that he was always worried about. //"I don't want to shave it! I want to grow it thicker,"// he always said. When he got older, and started eating like a starving dog, he filled out his armor perfectly and his jawline fluffed to the point that he had to regularly trim it to keep it from scruffing up. He got... Tall. Unbelievably tall, really. The tallest person you knew. He loomed over everyone else in the Royal Guard and dwarfed you. Lots of people took this at face value and associated him being scary or intimidating, but he really never did change from his childhood; he was still sweet and kind and when he wasn't stationed at your door he'd go help the tavern owner's mother bring in her baskets from the market, or help load sales onto the back of mule carts. He was handsome, and even you could agree with that. The handmaidens in Lothian often times called the two of you an enigma; will they, won't they. The raven and the wolf, you were both called. One night, there was a ball in collection with clergy members who your father sought an audience with. Lords and barons from all across came in attendance, and you were pressured into bringing a guest. Of course, you chose your personal knight. No one batted an eye when you strode in, but you did receive a few curious glances at the braided rear of your shaggy haircut, as well as the gems of your circlet. They weren't mean or judgemental, but you surely caught some eyes. Accolon struggled with adjusting to the fact he wasn't allowed to wear armor, and circumvented this by wearing chainmail that left him rattling when he moved too much. This was the only day he shaved his face bare, and you made a quiet comment towards the end of the night that you preferred his beard; without it he looked like a scared little deer. It was a funny scene to witness when he reached for a drink from a passing servant, and shook their hand in thanks. His arm clanged and clinged, and he wore a blush that burned into his ears and cheeks as he excused himself after receiving a few odd looks. [[You draw your attention back to the present day when you heard Accolon clear his throat.|crossroad3]]

//Godeater. Kingslayer. The Welsh Dragon. You had many names, but which one truly fit you?// Before we begin, I would like to specify that there will be a lot of things that may be uncomfortable for readers. Without going into detail, it will include: Death Suicide Murder Gore Violence Self-Harm Substance Abuse General LGBT-phobia Fat Shaming Insects Blood Religious Topics Trauma Sexually Explicit Content If you would like an in depth rundown on exactly the context, I'll try my best to keep the page updated so you know exactly what to expect. [[Click here|trigger warnings]] if you are curious. If you have finished reading the warnings or simply do not mind and wish to proceed, I hope you enjoy the story. //Will you fulfill a prophecy, old as time?// <<button "We shall see." "Start">><</button>>

!!WARNING I feel like it should be... slightly obvious, but here I will explain //exactly// what will be included in this interactive fiction. I do not wish to trigger anybody, so please take caution if you are continuing forward. [[Continue?|Actual Warnings]]

!!Death Death is mentioned several times in passing; typically when referencing Uther Pendragon or some other character who has passed away. Particularly, Uther's death is described in a bit of detail and it mentions how exactly he died and the pain he was in. !!Suicide There are no suicides in the story from any of the core characters, and it is only mentioned due to a situation that happens with a servant and one of Palamedes followers. !!Murder War brings about murder, and there are several recounts of deaths happening on the battlefield. The secondary Pendragon is never involved in any battles or fights beyond sparring and other mundane training, but Yvain, Accolon, Guinevere and Bedwyr are both warriors who have seen the outcomes of war. !!Gore A product of war. Either Yvain, Accolon, or Bedwyr returns from a compromised outpost wounded depending on your romance with them which may be distressing. !!Violence Mention of domestic violence in the beginning, and more mentions later when recalling King Lot and King Uther. !!Self-Harm See below. !!Substance Abuse Sir Kay has an alcohol problem, and it is mentioned frequently. !!General LGBT-phobia Homosexuality and general LGBT rhetoric is frowned upon as a product of the setting; there are no hate crimes, only general sour comments, but there is internalized homophobia from Bedwyr and Claudin. !!Fat Shaming A few comments from handmaidens while they attend to the player, however they are small. As well, a few comments on how much Kay eats, and how little Isolde does. These comments may be sensitive to those with an ED. !!Insects Palamedes has a collection of pet scarabs that the player has a chance to play with, as well as Palamedes himself talking about insect parts in detail. !!Blood Bedwyr, Accolon, and Yvain come back injured at some point, and are bleeding. Mention of blood frequently. !!Religious Topics Clergy. Several characters struggle with religious independence since the clergy is an extremely important figurehead in terms of royal rule. Claudin in particular despises how involved religion is in terms of her assumption of the throne. !!Trauma As expected. !!Sexually Explicit Content This one actually is the most embarrassing, but I felt it was necessary. The story is linear, however it splits off in each direction of the six love interests. The scenes are written... explicitly, but not pure raunchy smut; this story is not to get your rocks off. If you do somehow achieve that, however... congrats? Sex between you and one of the characters is entirely optional, simply select the choice when prompted. Thank you for being here. <<button "I've finished reading the warnings." "Introduction">><</button>>

"Sir Mordred? You were away from me for a moment." You let your head slump against the back of his neck, wincing at the metal against your nose. "Hush, dear Accolon. I was reminiscing. You worry too much." "I only worry, //dear Mordred//, because we are here." He shrugs you away, before glancing over his shoulder at you. You lean closer again, dropping your voice to a bare whisper. "There's... two people. Did we know there were two people coming?" Accolon shifts forward away from you, tightening the reins. "Didn't the letter just say //an// escort?" One of the figures raises their arm in a greeting, while the other stands with their back turned as they adjust the straps on their saddle. [[The knight greeting you speaks first.|greeting2]]

"Lady Morgana? You were away from me for a moment." You turn your head, looking him from your peripheral. "Hush, dear Accolon. I was reminiscing. You worry too much." "I only worry, //dear Morgana//, because we are here." He huffs, placing his hands on your shoulder to give you a gentle squeeze before letting go. You turn your head back forward, and your fingers clutch the reins a little. "There's... two people. Did we know there were two people coming?" Accolon shifts closer to you, an arm on your waist. "Didn't the letter just say //an// escort?" One of the figures raises their arm in a greeting, while the other stands with their back turned as they adjust the straps on their saddle. [[The knight greeting you speaks first.|greeting]]

"Ser Madoc? You were away from me for a moment." You fuss with your face, trying to rub away the sleep and the onsetting sunburn. "Hush, dear Accolon. I was reminiscing. You worry too much." "I only worry, //dear Mordred//, because we are here." He reaches a hand behind him again, tapping the edge of your knee. You peer over the left of him, before snapping back into place. "There's... two people. Did we know there were two people coming?" Accolon makes a quiet noise, his hand touching your leg again. "Didn't the letter just say //an// escort?" One of the figures raises their arm in a greeting, while the other stands with their back turned as they adjust the straps on their saddle. [[The knight greeting you speaks first.|greeting3]]

"Lady Morgana and her vassal, I assume?" The voice is muffled behind a helmet, but you can see a the glint of teeth beneath the grating. The knight standing at the horses startles, quickly turning around and saluting with an arm across their chest. "Ah–" Accolon dismounts first, wobbling slightly. "Yes. I am Sir Accolon, and this is Ser Lady Morgana Luwddoc." "Pleasure to be of service. I am Sir Lancelot du Lac, Royal Guard to the virtuous king, King Arthur." He salutes, the same as the other knight, before correcting his posture and beginning to remove his helmet. It's a pretty silver, the beak of it shallow with wide grates. A plume of thick dark blue feathers flow from the top, and you watch as he tucks it under his arm before bringing your eyes back up to finally see his face. He's rather handsome, but it's obvious he knows that too. pointy nose and curious hazel eyes that glitter between green and brown. His hair, having been tied with a ribbon close to his neck to prevent it from messing with the inner skullcap of his helm, is a warm auburn that glows in the setting sun. When he smiles it crinkles the edges off his eyes and the crooks of his cheeks. "This—" He says, dramatically spinning on his toes and gesturing to the knight behind him who is still frozen in a salute, "Is Ser Yvain. She is the understudy of one of the round table members; Bedwyr? You have probably heard of him." Yvain steps closer, removing her own helm. It's less decorative than Lancelots; a simple silver with a chainmail throat and no visor. Her eyes are more visible through the vents, and she looks a bit lost. Her hair is tied much like her companions is, but it is a dark brown that compliments the freckles and moles that scatter across her face. She does not smile, simply nods. Her back is stiff, and she is taller than both you and Lancelot, but Accolon still looms over her. "Ser Yvain Urien, my lady. At your service." When she speaks it is soft, but firm. She chokes for a second, and her fingers twitch against her helmet. "Do... Do you need help dismounting?" It takes you a moment, before your cheeks flush. [[You've been sitting on Poe this entire time.|dismount]]

"Lord Mordred and his vassal, I assume?" The voice is muffled behind a helmet, but you can see a the glint of teeth beneath the grating. The knight standing at the horses startles, quickly turning around and saluting with an arm across their chest. "Ah–" Accolon dismounts first, wobbling slightly. "Yes. I am Sir Accolon, and this is Sir Lord Mordred Luwddoc." "Pleasure to be of service. I am Sir Lancelot du Lac, Royal Guard to the virtuous king, King Arthur." He salutes, the same as the other knight, before correcting his posture and beginning to remove his helmet. It's a pretty silver, the beak of it shallow with wide grates. A plume of thick dark blue feathers flow from the top, and you watch as he tucks it under his arm before bringing your eyes back up to finally see his face. He's rather handsome, but it's obvious he knows that too. pointy nose and curious hazel eyes that glitter between green and brown. His hair, having been tied with a ribbon close to his neck to prevent it from messing with the inner skullcap of his helm, is a warm auburn that glows in the setting sun. When he smiles it crinkles the edges off his eyes and the crooks of his cheeks. "This—" He says, dramatically spinning on his toes and gesturing to the knight behind him who is still frozen in a salute, "Is Ser Yvain. She is the understudy of one of the round table members; Bedwyr? You have probably heard of him." Yvain steps closer, removing her own helm. It's less decorative than Lancelots; a simple silver with a chainmail throat and no visor. Her eyes are more visible through the vents, and she looks a bit lost. Her hair is tied much like her companions is, but it is a dark brown that compliments the freckles and moles that scatter across her face. She does not smile, simply nods. Her back is stiff, and she is taller than both you and Lancelot, but Accolon still looms over her. "Ser Yvain Urien, my lord. At your service." When she speaks it is soft, but firm. Lancelot looks at you, another coy smile plastered on his face. "Is your horse comfortable, Sir Mordred?" It takes you a moment, before your cheeks flush. [[You've been sitting on Poe this entire time.|dismount2]]

"Laird Madoc and their vassal, I assume?" The voice is muffled behind a helmet, but you can see a the glint of teeth beneath the grating. The knight standing at the horses startles, quickly turning around and saluting with an arm across their chest. "Ah–" Accolon dismounts first, wobbling slightly. "Yes. I am Sir Accolon, and this is My Liege, Ser Madoc Luwddoc." "Pleasure to be of service. I am Sir Lancelot du Lac, Royal Guard to the virtuous king, King Arthur." He salutes, the same as the other knight, before correcting his posture and beginning to remove his helmet. It's a pretty silver, the beak of it shallow with wide grates. A plume of thick dark blue feathers flow from the top, and you watch as he tucks it under his arm before bringing your eyes back up to finally see his face. He's rather handsome, but it's obvious he knows that too. pointy nose and curious hazel eyes that glitter between green and brown. His hair, having been tied with a ribbon close to his neck to prevent it from messing with the inner skullcap of his helm, is a warm auburn that glows in the setting sun. When he smiles it crinkles the edges off his eyes and the crooks of his cheeks. "This—" He says, dramatically spinning on his toes and gesturing to the knight behind him who is still frozen in a salute, "Is Ser Yvain. She is the understudy of one of the round table members; Bedwyr? You have probably heard of him." Yvain steps closer, removing her own helm. It's less decorative than Lancelots; a simple silver with a chainmail throat and no visor. Her eyes are more visible through the vents, and she looks a bit lost. Her hair is tied much like her companions is, but it is a dark brown that compliments the freckles and moles that scatter across her face. She does not smile, simply nods. Her back is stiff, and she is taller than both you and Lancelot, but Accolon still looms over her. "Ser Yvain Urien, my liege. At your service." When she speaks it is soft, but firm. Accolon salutes in turn, before turning around. "Would you like my help?" It takes you a moment, before your cheeks flush. [[You've been sitting on Poe this entire time.|dismount3]]

"Oh! I completely forgot. Yes, please. That would be quite nice." The three make a step towards you, before all looking at one another. It is almost funny. <<button "Yvain, if you would. Please." "y1">><</button>> <<button "Accolon?" "a1">><</button>> <<button "Lancelot, perhaps?" "l1">><</button>> <<button "No need." "s1">><</button>>

"Oh! I completely forgot. Yes, please. That would be quite nice." The three make a step towards you, before all looking at one another. It is almost funny. <<button "Yvain, if you would. Please." "y2">><</button>> <<button "Accolon?" "a2">><</button>> <<button "Lancelot, perhaps?" "l2">><</button>> <<button "No need." "s2">><</button>>

"Oh! I completely forgot. Yes, please. That would be quite nice." The three make a step towards you, before all looking at one another. It is almost funny. <<button "Yvain, if you would. Please." "y3">><</button>> <<button "Accolon?" "a3">><</button>> <<button "Lancelot, perhaps?" "l3">><</button>> <<button "No need." "s3">><</button>>

Accolon smiles, immediately offering his hand. "Always asking for my help, yes?" The way he says it is more of a statement than an answer, but you can't help but reply. "You're my vassal, afterall." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Always at your beck and call, it seems." With your hand in his, you squeeze it. He had taken his gloves off fairly early in the journey, so his bare hands were warm without being sweaty. You could feel his callouses along the ridges of his palm and thumbpad. You roll your eyes, before winking at him. "You're not good for anything else." His laugh is just as comforting as his hands; a boyish rattle that doesn't match his accent or usual depth. He hasn't changed much from childhood, it seems. Always laughing or smiling, and always there for you. As he helps pull you off of Poe, his free arm touches the bow of your back to guide your posture straight so you don't tumble and fall. He's tender in his care, only leaving featherlight touches. You look up at him, and he simply watches you. "Yes?" He finally asks. //You swear you feel a shudder in the cavity of your chest.// "Nothing. Thank you, dear Accolon." He smiles again—as he always does—and lets go of your hand. You both stand next to eachother, shoulders touching faintly before someone whistles. [[Lancelot waves you both over, the moment between you slipping away.|standing]]

Yvain nods, walking briskly towards you. Accolon and Lancelot stand aside, instead deciding to converse between themselves. "Your hand, my lady?" Yvain quietly asks, her voice a low timbre that nestles between your ribs. She looks down, and a few threads of her hair fall into her face as she removes one of her gauntlets to expose her hand before setting the glove in front of you on the saddle. It is surprisingly dainty compared to her demeanor, and you can't help but smile at her. When she raises her head again, her eyes meet yours with a bit of surprise. "Is something the matter?" You shake your head, dismissing her worry. "No, no. I simply thought it was cute how you exposed your hands." She narrows her eyes in thought, and drops her voice a little lower to almost a whisper. "... I didn't want to hurt you with the metal." You swallow down the threat of a blush, laughing to ease yourself. "You are considerate, even Accolon doesn't do that." She makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, before extending her bare hand. You take it softly, and she helps guide you down to the ground. She barely touches you, you think, instead trying her best to not touch you at all. "Thank you, Yvain." "Of course, my lady. I am at your service." "Are you always this... formal?" She quirks a brow, tilting her head. //Awfully like a dog.// "Is it wrong of me to be?" "No! Of course not. It is refreshing to meet someone of your... disposition." She makes a face at you, and you laugh. "You are doing well." The two of you stand facing one another, your hand still in hers. You squeeze it gently, and you finally see a crack in her facade as she slips it away and uses it to fuss with her hair instead. [[Lancelot whistles and waves you both over, the moment between you slipping away.|standing]]

Accolon smiles, immediately offering his hand. "Always asking for my help, yes?" The way he says it is more of a statement than an answer, but you can't help but reply. "You're my vassal, afterall." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Always at your beck and call, it seems." You take his hand with a roll of your eyes, making a show of scrunching your nose. He had taken his gloves off fairly early in the journey, so his bare hands were warm without being sweaty. You could feel his callouses along the ridges of his palm and thumbpad. You look at him, grinning. "You're not good for anything else." His laugh is just as comforting as his hands; a boyish rattle that doesn't match his accent or usual depth. He hasn't changed much from childhood, it seems. Always laughing or smiling, and always there for you. As he helps pull you off of Poe, his free arm touches the under of your arm and rests against your rib cage, fingertips pressing into the bone. He's tender in his care, barely ghosting his touch through your shirt. You look up at him, and he simply watches you. "Yes?" He finally asks. //You swear you feel a shudder in the cavity of your chest.// "Nothing. Thank you, dear Accolon." He smiles again—as he always does—and lets go of your hand. You both stand next to eachother, shoulders touching faintly before someone whistles. [[Lancelot waves you both over, the moment between you slipping away.|standing2]]

Yvain nods, walking briskly towards you. Accolon and Lancelot stand aside, instead deciding to converse between themselves. "Your hand, My Lord?" Yvain quietly asks, her voice a low timbre that nestles between your ribs. She looks down, and a few threads of her hair fall into her face as she removes one of her gauntlets to expose her hand before setting it in front of you on the saddle. It is surprisingly dainty compared to her demeanor, and you can't help but smile at her. When she raises her head again, her eyes meet yours with a bit of surprise. "Is something the matter?" You shake your head, dismissing her worry. "No, no. Simply admiring how you removed your gauntlet." She narrows her eyes in thought, and drops her voice a little lower to almost a whisper. "... I didn't want to hurt you with the metal." You swallow down the threat of a blush, laughing to ease yourself. "You are considerate, even Accolon doesn't do that." She makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, before extending her bare hand. You grab it, and awkwardly begin to dismount. "You know—" You begin to speak, "I do not often get help when getting off of horses. Is this normal?" Yvain tightens her grip as you struggle with swinging your leg over. "I suppose it is a bit odd, to help a lord in some way... But I did offer." "Thank you, then." Your feet touch the ground, and you sigh. "Of course, Sir Mordred. I am at your service." "Are you always this... formal?" She quirks a brow, tilting her head. //Awfully like a dog.// "Is it wrong of me to be?" "No! Of course not. It is refreshing to meet someone of your... disposition." She makes a face at you, and you laugh. "You are doing well." The two of you stand facing one another, her hand still in yours. You become aware of how warm it is, and how it fits neatly into your own. She seems to have noticed to, and tries her best to discretely remove it from yours without blushing. [[Lancelot whistles and waves you both over, the moment between you slipping away.|standing2]]

Lancelot's expression is surprised, but he shakes his head and smiles. "Of course, my liege." He is quick to help you dismount, simply pulling you off with a bit of force. You stumble into him, and plant your hands on his chest. He steadies you and lets you regain your composure, only letting his hands rest on your shoulder briefly before stepping back and resuming his charming yet professional demeanor. [[Lancelot whistles for the others to join you, and begins talking.|standing]]

Yvain nods, walking briskly towards you. Accolon and Lancelot stand aside, instead deciding to converse between themselves. "Your hand, ser Madoc?" Yvain quietly asks, her voice a low timbre that nestles between your ribs. She looks down, and a few threads of her hair fall into her face as she removes one of her gauntlets to expose her hand before setting it in front of you on the saddle. It is surprisingly dainty compared to her demeanor, and you can't help but smile at her. When she raises her head again, her eyes meet yours with a bit of surprise. "Is something the matter?" You shake your head, dismissing her worry. "No, no. You simply take your gauntlet off in a way I find amusing." She narrows her eyes in thought, and drops her voice a little lower to almost a whisper. "... I didn't want to hurt you with the metal." You swallow down the threat of a blush, laughing to ease yourself. "You are considerate, even Accolon doesn't do that." She makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, before extending her bare hand. You take it within your own, and swing your leg over and slide to the ground. You stumble slightly and she quickly steadies you, both of her hands on your shoulders. "Are you alright?" "Yes, yes. Thank you, Yvain." "Of course, my liege. I am at your service." "Are you always this... formal?" She quirks a brow, tilting her head. //Awfully like a dog.// "Is it wrong of me to be?" "No! Of course not. It is refreshing to meet someone of your... disposition." She makes a face at you, and you laugh. "You are doing well." The two of you stand facing one another, her hands still on your shoulders. You feel a smile creep back onto your face, and she yanks her hand away and looks away from you. Her ears are a warm red. [[Lancelot whistles and waves you both over, the moment between you slipping away.|standing3]]

Lancelot's expression is surprised, but he shakes his head and smiles. "Of course, my lady." He is quick to help you dismount, simply pulling you off with a bit of force. You stumble into him, and plant your hands on his chest. He steadies you and lets you regain your composure, only letting his hands rest on your shoulder briefly before stepping back and resuming his charming yet professional demeanor. [[Lancelot whistles for the others to join you, and begins talking.|standing]]

Lancelot's expression is surprised, but he shakes his head and smiles. "Of course, my lord." He is quick to help you dismount, simply pulling you off with a bit of force. You stumble into him, and plant your hands on his chest. He steadies you and lets you regain your composure, only letting his hands rest on your shoulder briefly before stepping back and resuming his charming yet professional demeanor. [[Lancelot whistles for the others to join you, and begins talking.|standing]]

Accolon smiles, immediately offering his hand. "Always asking for my help, yes?" The way he says it is more of a statement than an answer, but you can't help but reply. "You're my vassal, afterall." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Always at your beck and call, it seems." You scoff playfully, shaking your head. When you place your hand in his, he squeezes it shyly. He had taken his gloves off fairly early in the journey, so his bare hands were warm without being sweaty. You could feel his callouses along the ridges of his palm and thumbpad. You look down at your connected hands, before looking back into his eyes. "You're not good for anything else." His laugh is just as comforting as his hands; a boyish rattle that doesn't match his accent or usual depth. He hasn't changed much from childhood, it seems. Always laughing or smiling, and always there for you. As he helps pull you off of Poe, his free arm rests on the crook of your hip, his thumb pressing into your stomach. He's tender in his care, trying his best not to hold on harder than he politely should. You look up at him, and he simply watches you. "Yes?" He finally asks. //You swear you feel a shudder in the cavity of your chest.// "Nothing. Thank you, dear Accolon." He smiles again—as he always does—and lets go of your hand. You both stand next to eachother, shoulders touching faintly before someone whistles. [[Lancelot waves you both over, the moment between you slipping away.|standing3]]

"Now that that is handled, we should discuss travel. Lady Morgana—" Lancelot gestures to you with a dismissive flick of his wrist."You can ride with anyone, or I can offer my own horse for you. I do not mind riding with someone else." "I would probably be safer riding with either Accolon or Yvain, correct? I do not see why I couldn't." Yvain watches you for a moment, but Accolon doesn't budge. "I suppose, sure. It is entirely up to you. But besides that, there are a few more things..." The talk about travel is... mundane. As to be expected really. All Lancelot offers is simple prose about sights you can see, and he slowly begins to look less like a royal knight and more like a tour guide for the unassuming nomad. With little else to do, you return to Poe and stroke his snout. He makes a noise and lips your fingers slightly, and you bop him gently on the nose. "My fingers are not carrots, you silly horse. I will give you a treat when we are done here." Your voice is mock stern, but Poe seems to be able to sense the sarcasm and instead shakes his head and pulls back his ears, showing his teeth. You laugh gently, before Accolon approaches you. "Are you ready to mount back up, My Lady? Are you riding with me again, or someone new?" [[Hm. A tough decision indeed. Or is it?|teaserp1]]

"Now that that is handled, we should discuss travel. Lord Mordred—" Lancelot gestures to you with a dismissive flick of his wrist."You can ride with anyone, or I can offer my own horse for you. I do not mind riding with someone else." "I rode with Accolon this entire way, but it wouldn't hurt to ride with someone else." Yvain watches you for a moment, but Accolon doesn't budge. "Indeed. It is a decision entirely up to you." The talk about travel is... mundane. As to be expected really. All Lancelot offers is simple prose about sights you can see, and he slowly begins to look less like a royal knight and more like a tour guide for the unassuming nomad. With little else to do, you return to Poe and stroke his snout. He makes a noise and lips your fingers slightly, and you bop him gently on the nose. "My fingers are not carrots, you silly horse. I will give you a treat when we are done here." Your voice is mock stern, but Poe seems to be able to sense the sarcasm and instead shakes his head and pulls back his ears, showing his teeth. You laugh gently, before Accolon approaches you. "Are you ready to mount back up, My Lord? Do you want to ride with me again, or boot Lancelot off his horse?" He smiles and winks at the last part, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial tone. [[Hm. A tough decision indeed. Or is it?|teaserp1]]

"Now that that is handled, we should discuss travel. Ser Mordred—" Lancelot gestures to you with a dismissive flick of his wrist."You can ride with anyone, or I can offer my own horse for you. I do not mind riding with someone else." You make a face, mulling it over. "Being alone on a horse wouldn't be half bad, I would wager. Are you sure you wouldn't mind riding with another?" Yvain watches you for a moment, but Accolon doesn't budge. Lancelot pauses, before shrugging. "It is of no concern how I feel about riding arrangements, my liege. Whatever you are comfortable with." The talk about travel is... mundane. As to be expected really. All Lancelot offers is simple prose about sights you can see, and he slowly begins to look less like a royal knight and more like a tour guide for the unassuming nomad. With little else to do, you return to Poe and stroke his snout. He makes a noise and lips your fingers slightly, and you bop him gently on the nose. "My fingers are not carrots, you silly horse. I will give you a treat when we are done here." Your voice is mock stern, but Poe seems to be able to sense the sarcasm and instead shakes his head and pulls back his ears, showing his teeth. You laugh gently, before Accolon approaches you. "Have you decided to ride by yourself, or do you wish to ride with Yvain?" He asks, before quickly finishing with, "Or myself, of course." [[Hm. A tough decision indeed. Or is it?|teaserp1]]

!End of Teaser HI!!!!!!!! thanks for reading! this is the end of the current build! Chapter 3 will include!!!! - Meeting the mysterious girlboss Isolde - Merlin traumadumps - Yvain sure does do things that are things that you would do - Lancelot flirts /neg Please contact me or whatever blah blah blah my socials and stuff are in the blurb below the .html im always online on discord if you want to chat, im a silly little person :o) muah muah ily ily

!End of Teaser HI!!!!!!!! thanks for reading! this is the end of the current build! Chapter 4 will include!!!! - Accolon hates Palamedes - Guinevere hates Palamedes - Yvain hates Palamedes - Claudin hates Palamedes - Bedwyr hates Palamedes - Palamedes loves Palamedes Please contact me or whatever blah blah blah my socials and stuff are in the blurb below the .html im always online on discord if you want to chat, im a silly little person :o) muah muah ily ily

!End of Teaser HI!!!!!!!! thanks for reading! this is the end of the current build! Chapter 5 will include!!!! - la cucaracha y palamedes - yvain/bedwyr/acollon dies! not clickbait! do not watch at 3am! (i am lying) Please contact me or whatever blah blah blah my socials and stuff are in the blurb below the .html im always online on discord if you want to chat, im a silly little person :o) muah muah ily ily

!End of Teaser HI!!!!!!!! thanks for reading! this is the end of the current build! Chapter 6 will include!!!! - the end????????????????????????????? Please contact me or whatever blah blah blah my socials and stuff are in the blurb below the .html im always online on discord if you want to chat, im a silly little person :o) muah muah ily ily

You stutter briefly, before correcting yourself. "Nevermind, actually. I can do it myself." The three off them all speak in unison; a variety of "I understand", "of course", and "yes". You shake your head, swinging your legs over the saddle and stepping onto the ground. You wobble for a moment, hands on your knees to steady yourself briefly. "Fucking horseback." You mutter under your breath, before striding over to join them. [[Lancelot begins to inform you about what's ahead.|standing]]

!End of Teaser HI!!!!!!!! thanks for reading! this is the end of the current build! I apologize for the hiatus but I had a lot of things going on, and due to some donating me money??? i feel inclined to actually continue this project because i'd feel awful otherwise. please be patient! i am a student with not a lot of free time, and bataleur is more of a writing exercise than anything else. Please contact me or whatever blah blah blah my socials and stuff are in the blurb below the .html im always online on discord if you want to chat, im a silly little person :o) muah muah ily ily

<<button "Yvain, if you would. Please." "hy1">><</button>> <<button "Accolon?" "ha1">><</button>> <<button "Lancelot, perhaps?" "hl1">><</button>> <<button "No need." "ho1">><</button>>