Lets read Everworld-Show me the way to go home.

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > Lets read Everworld-Show me the way to go home.

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

quote:

When Jalil talks about parallel universes I picture two soap bubbles floating through the air. One contains all we know to be real. The other contains an entirely separate set of laws and truths and realities.

Interesting metaphor to choose given that soap bubbles typically indicate fragility - I think the "double life" aspect is still foremost in their mind, the wonder of whether or not if they "die" in Everworld they can just say farewell to it and slip back into their real lives, as easily as if one of the bubbles just pops.

Fritzler posted:

I do like David a lot - for same reasons that April does. He really tries, it is almost inspiring.

Agreed, although being a teenage boy with main character syndrome he's blind to how it affects others, not just emotionally but materially i.e. the other three having to go back to the Aztec city to find him when he went after Senna.

I know we've seen his flashback about turning a blind eye, out of fear, while another kid got sexually abused at summer camp; IIRC it turns out that this is a repressed/redirected memory and it was David himself who was molested? Although actually the former makes more sense if he's driven by a sense of failure to protect others.

# ? Aug 6, 2023 00:06

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# ? Jun 8, 2024 08:06

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

III

I finished reading the scene for the class. Not my best performance, I was a little distracted. A little distracted by the fact that I, or some version of me, my twin, had just been saved from a dragon by Galahad. Sir Galahad, I suppose I should say. Sir Laurence Olivier, Sir Anthony Hopkins, Sir Galahad.

Yeah.

And now I was here. Class, with the clock on the wall above the door, the good old time-only-moves-one-direction dock ticking away the minutes. I had been here all along, of course. Had been here and there.

It was one of the paradoxes of this lunatic life. You knew when the two "yous" first rejoined in the real world because you'd get this sudden news flash, this CNN Breaking News: The other you is about to become a human sacrifice, or dragon food, or prey to some alien.

The bell rang.

This just in: April O'Brien is losing her mind. "You did great, really brought the character to life," my friend Magdalena said as we filed out into the hall.

I sighed. "Magda, you're sweet, but if you're ever going to make a career out of acting you'll have to learn how to lie."

This was my life. This was me. Don't let it affect you, April. Don't let it take over your life. This is you, the real you. Who cares what that other April is doing or having done to her? That's her. Not you.

"Acting? Hey, I want to direct. But, just between us, honey, you do seem a little spacey. I know what it is, too. It's the vegetarian thing. See, I'm sorry, I know if s not my business, but sometimes I think you need to eat a little meat." She batted her eyes suggestively. "Mario comes to mind. 'Cause that's all beef, baby."

I laughed. The laughter seemed fake. Her face, fake. The room, the hallway, the kids all crowding around, sauntering or rushing to their next dass, fake.

I was in the middle of two lives at once. I had all my memories of being here, and all my memories of being there. I remembered Mario asking me out last night. And I remembered Galahad grabbing my shirt just moments ago. Both real.

Both interesting. Mario was another drama guy. And he was actually straight. And Magda was right, he was all
dark, brooding eyes and smooth chest and full lips. Antonio Banderas as a senior.

"He has bad teeth," I said. We reached my locker and I stepped out of the river of moving bodies and grabbed the steel shore.

"He can have that fixed. Everyone in Hollywood has their teeth fixed. Brad Pitt had awful teeth. Brad Pitt had medieval teeth."

The locker combination. Did I still know it? How could I? How could I remember something so trivial when my head was filled with the dragon's liquid fire?

"Now how on Earth do you know anything about Brad Pitt's teeth?" I asked. Going through the motions. Saying the right things. Like a long-running play where I'd done the same lines a thousand times.

Magda ignored that question since she found It inconvenient. "You don't want Mario, I'll take him. I'm not proud, I'll take your castoffs. I'll take him, and by the time I'm done with him you won't want him back."

I Spun the numbers on my locker. Twelve. Six. Twenty-seven. Still there in my brain.

"What do you know about Sir Galahad?"

She looked blank. "Is that some guy's nickname?"

"No, I mean the real Galahad."

"There's no real Galahad," Magda said. "Just a story. King Arthur and Camelot and all. Although Galahad has a separate story: You know, the whole quest for the Holy Grail. He was supposed to be the perfect knight."

Magda tries hard to pass herself off as a sort of tough-girl slut. In reality, or at least in a part of her reality, she's a National Merit Scholar who uses her intellect mainly for sleazy double entendres. But then you ask her something obscure and she has more information than you'd expect from a girl who wears midriff-baring everything to show off the strand of barbed wire tattooed around her waist.

"Galahad? He's a myth."

"Yeah," I said.

"But if the point is you're looking for a man of steel with a big lance..."

I pulled out my new chemistry book. My old one had gone across with me. We'd traded it to the Coo-Hatch, an alien race of obsessive metallurgists.

"How about dragons?"

Magda closed my locker door and gave me her serious look. "April, what's up with you?"

I spun the lock. Held on to the little numbered dial. Stared at the blank steel door. I could tell her. I could. I could say, "Magda, I am split in two, spending one life here and most of a life in an alternate universe."

And she'd nod and pretend to believe me and slowly but inexorably pull away, put distance between us, be unavailable, busy, "Sorry but I already promised to hang with Tyra, no, I don't think I'm in the mood to go shopping..." And word would spread: April? Nuts, Insanity is the limit of friendship. I tell my friends everything.
Every dream, every disappointment, every crush, every fantasy. I tell them things that go right to the heart of who I am, things that I could not stand to have known by strangers. Everything, except about Senna, except about our childhood together, but everything else, everything from my real life. Magda, Elspeth, Jennifer, Tyra, Alison, Becka, 'Suela, they knew me, I knew them, to various degrees.

My friends were mostly drama dub. We performed together. We took classes together. All those lame "pretend you're a tree" exercises, we did all that together. When we had to act scared, or act happy, or act hurt or despairing; when we had to imagine ourselves as mothers or old women or prostitutes or businesswomen or Danish princesses driven mad by loss; when we had to reach deep to come up with raw emotions, we could do that because we were we. Because we trusted one another and supported one another.

What was I without friends? Something, I was sure. I mean, I wouldn't disappear if I was alone. But I'd never tried it.

"April, whatever it is, you can tell me, it' s me, it's Magda, come on, spill it, you'll feel better."

I forced a smile. Not just any smile, either, a smile was never just a smile. I gave Magda a Julia-Roberts-lying-through-her-teeth-in-My-Best-Friend's-Wedding smile.

"Just wondering how happy I should make Mario Saturday night."

# ? Aug 6, 2023 04:16

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

Chapter
IV

School.

Rehearsal. We were doing Rent. We were doing it in a week, and I was playing Mimi. She's a junkie with HIV. Not exactly a case of playing myself. And the singing... I had to find a wild ness, a reckless despair that had never been part of me.

And then, I had a date. Mario. He was going to pick me up at 8:00. We were going to see La Dolce Vita down in the city at a theater that showed old films.

Then we'd get some coffee, maybe a snack somewhere, and talk. We'd talk about the movie, and about Rent, and about acting, and I'd tell him about going to New York and seeing Kevin Spacey in The Iceman Cometh, and Mario would tell me about meeting John Malkovich once when he came to Chicago to direct a play.

Then we'd drive home up Lake Shore Drive and he'd act cool, and I'd act ditzy even though I was trying to be cool, and then the big moment would come, the big kiss, and would there be tongue or no tongue?

"Why bother to go if you already know every scene?" I berated myself. "You don't know: It might not happen that way."

I stared at my closet. It contained three types of clothing: stuff that made me look fat, stuff that made me look desperate, and stuff my dad would actually approve of.

Wardrobe. Then makeup. Then on to the set to deliver my practiced lines. "He was amazing! He was born to play that role!" Or, "I've always felt that people underrate Susan Sarandon." Or, "No, I, um, well, Nicole Kidman in Eyes Wide Shut? Um, I uh, I guess I could play a part like that."

Blush.

"Stop it, April," I snapped at the reflection of my half made-up face. "Just stop it. He's a nice guy. He has talent. He's hot. So shut up and enjoy the date."

The clock showed 7:49. Eleven minutes, if he was on time. Eleven long minutes. More, if he was late.

I applied lip gloss.

Any minute now. Any minute now, Mario. Any minute now I would open my eyes over there, open my eyes and discover... what?

I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't let my real life be eaten up by the knowledge that I had another life entirely.

I was getting angry now. Where was he? It was 8:00. No, it was 8:01. He was late. At any moment I, a part of me, would suddenly be there, not here.

Only I would be here, too. Half of me would go on a date. Maybe the other me was already there, already gone? How would I know until she, me, I, reappeared with yet another update?

"Oh, hi, April, have a nice date with Mario? Yeah? Well, guess what Galahad and I did?"

Madness!

I sat down on the little chair outside my walk-in closet. Sat there in my not-too-easy outfit and stared down at my bare toes cold on the wood floor.

Here. There. It was too much. One life was enough. I didn't need two.

"Go away and leave me alone," I whispered.

The dock said 8:07.

I felt alone. Had she left? I couldn't know. A discreet knock on my door. "April? Your date is here."

My mom. She still had her "mourning" voice. We were mourning the disappearance of Senna. Weeks had passed in the real world. The agreed story, the myth we all paid lip service to was that Senna had always been independent, that she had gone off on her own, no doubt in search of her birth mother.

We were all very worried. My mom. My dad. Long faces, soft voices, downcast eyes, shuffling tread. Very worried. My dad would turn on Prosier and feel like he had to say, "We could use some cheering up."

Lately, the last couple of days we'd begun the segue into the "I'm sure she's fine, she always did take care of herself' phase.

The police had no body, after all. No dead Seima had turned up in a ditch. And frankly, everyone was ready to move on, tired of the tedious job of playing sad and distressed.

I dreamed of sitting down at the dinner table and saying, "Let's all cut the b.s.. Mom, Dad, we're all relieved she's gone. Besides, I know exactly where Senna is."

But that wasn't in the script

What was in the script was my mom saying, "Honey, I think it's good you're starting to have fun again. Senna would want us to move on with our lives."

I squeezed her hand. She squeezed back. We gave each other smiles tinged with loss. I went out with Mario. We saw the movie. We talked. I had a mocha and a pannini made with hummus. We talked some more. We drove home.

Mario stuck his tongue in my mouth and his hand inside my blouse. I stopped him. I don't even know why. Half my life I was in hell, and the other half I was still trying to be a good girl. I tried to remember every detail because Magda and Elspeth, Jermifer and Alison, Becka and Tyra and 'Suela would want the details, down to the
last word and sensation and private thought. I got home a little after midnight and moments later, just as I was climbing into a steaming-hot shower, I was there.

More evidence that no one was really comfortable with Senna before all this happened.

# ? Aug 8, 2023 03:48

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

Hey all, sorry for the slowness, like I said, housesitting. Things will be back to normal this weekend!
I am surprised to see so little conversation about April, although to be fair, not much has happened.

quote:

Chapter
V

Bed.

Four thick, dark oak bedposts, a sort of feather comforter over me, no sheets, just a soft, down-filled comforter under me and the same over me and over that a coverlet or something, mostly maroon with faded traces of gold.
There was a fire in a huge stone hearth, more coals than flames.

The smell of salt water. The sea. We were near the sea. Were those waves I heard? Waves crashing on rocks? Or just an echo, a distortion?

The walls were stone, granite, I suppose, I'm not a geologist. The floor was stone softened by a scattering of reeds and, hey, flower petals. Well, that was nice.

There was a faded tapestry on the wall. I think it showed a guy in armor kneeling before a woman in white. No way to tell for sure with the colors all washed out.

There was a single window, tall and narrow, a pointed arch at the top, like something you'd see in a Gothic cathedral.

It was day. Bright blue filled the window. Morning light. That's what it felt like. But the light had little impact on the gloom inside. It barely grayed the blackness in the high corners of the room, twenty feet above me.
I wasn't wearing sneakers.

I threw back the covers, a sudden, convulsive gesture. I sighed. I still had my clothes on. A weird little outfit consisting of the clothes I'd been wearing down at the lake and the odds and ends I'd picked up from Vikings and Aztecs.

I was a bag lady. All I needed was a shopping cart full of cans and a personal relationship with the Martian high council.

I tried to slow my racing, panicked heart (Would I ever get used to these transitions? Would I have to?) Things couldn't be too bad: I was in a feather bed and had my clothes on. I swung out of bed and almost fell, surprised by
the distance to the floor. There were my sneakers. I stuck my feet in and tied them quickly.

The headache exploded about then. Pounding, pounding, but fading as I closed my eyes and nibbed my temples. It was the remains of a much worse headache.

I felt the back of my head where the dragon's tail had slapped me. There was a bump the size of the yolk of a sunny-side up egg.

"Okay, you have clothes, you have shoes, and there's your backpack. This is good, April. This is better than some Everworld wake-ups."

I was alone, I was pretty sure of that. Where were David and Christopher and Jalil? I grabbed my pack, fished for the bottle of Advil, and swallowed two dry.

I headed for the door. It was chilly in the room, despite the fire.

It took me a few seconds to figure out the door handle. There was no knob. Just a sort of iron latch. I lifted it and, wincing at the creaking sound, pulled the door toward me.

A hallway. Stone walls, stone floor, narrow, high.

"Hello?"

No answer. Part of me wondered if there was a phone by the bed. I could call down to the front desk. "Hi, I don't know my room number, but could you send up a pot of coffee and some toast? And some ice water?"

Old Marx Brothers movie, maybe 1929 or whatever. Groucho's at the desk of a hotel. Phone rings. Caller asks for some ice water. Groucho says, "Ice water? You want ice water? I'll send up some onions. That'll make your eyes water."

Bad pun. But it was 1929. Probably not Groucho at the front desk of this place. Maybe a troll. Maybe Loki. No, I'd be dead.

"Shut up, April, you're babbling because you're scared."

"Shut up? I wasn't even talking out loud."

"Well, you are now. You're talking to yourself."

I stepped cautiously out into the hallway. Left or right? I heard nothing to guide me. But the hallway ended in darkness to the right and was bisected by one of the tall, arched windows to my left.

"Go into the light, April," I muttered.

I padded silently down the hall, stepping un-consciously over the cracks between the stones. After all, I didn't want to break my mother's back.

A door, identical to mine. I leaned close.

"Hello?"

Was I up too early? Was that it? No, I must have been unconscious a long time. A concussion? Did things like that just go away or was some big blood dot just waiting to bust loose and kill me?

Dead of a stroke. Probably not the most likely thing to worry about in Everworld. So many other, more dramatic ways to die.

I knocked on the door. Nothing. I turned away intending to look out of the window. Then I heard a creak. Spun around and saw David, wearing pants and no shoes and no shirt.

"Kind of early," he said. He rubbed his left eye with the heel of his hand and then had trouble opening that eye. "You okay?" he asked.

Don't look at his chest.

"David, where are we?"

"Galahad's castle. Or one of them. I think he has more."

"So are we... what are we? I mean, are we prisoners? Or are we guests?"

I said, don't look at his chest, it's tacky. Its the kind of tiling a guy would do.

David raised his eyebrows. "Yes. All of the above, I think."

"Are the others okay?"

"Yeah. Well, Jalil is. Christopher got faced at the banquet last night. Tded to outdrink Sir Perceval. I think he's in his room puking. Christopher, I mean. How's your head? Galahad's doctor wanted to put leeches on your face and neck. I convinced him not to. Hope that wasn't too presumptuous or whatever."

I shuddered. "No, you have permission to stop anyone from putting leeches on me at any time. Jeez, so... so what do we do?"

David glanced back over his shoulder, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "We have to bust out of here. Merlin is coming."

I laughed, then regretted it for the needle of pain it sent through my head. "There's a phrase you don't hear very often: 'Merlin is coming.'"

David didn't laugh. His eyes clouded. He seemed uncertain. Distracted.

And then I saw the hand come sliding over his bare shoulder and down over his chest. She leaned into view behind him, face almost resting on his shoulder.

Senna.

# ? Aug 11, 2023 02:12

Zore: Sep 21, 2010; willfully illiterate, aggressively miserable sourpuss whose sole raison d�etre is to put other people down for liking the wrong things

And now we get some actual time with Senna which should help at least give us the questions to ask. I forgot how much I liked April as a narrator, externally she's been holding together a lot better than the others but she's about 5 seconds from completely losing her poo poo.

And its interesting that her relationship with Senna is grouped in with this current jaunt to Everworld. Their history has got to be something if the girl who talks about everything with her friends think they'll ostracize her for talking about it.

# ? Aug 11, 2023 02:55

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

oh good, I was hoping we'd learn more about their relationship, because it has to be fuuuuuuuuuucked up.

I'm really digging April as a narrator too. David is too much of a sad boy, Christopher is Christopher. Looking forward to learning about Jalil since one poster said they remembered that being weird.

# ? Aug 11, 2023 03:07

Yadoppsi: May 10, 2009

I enjoyed the mental reminders to not look at David's chest. A little dash of relatability authors who weren't once teenage girls don't normally know to include.

# ? Aug 11, 2023 06:27

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Curious about the geography of Everworld since I think it said the dragon was attacking them while they were still in the jungle, but I'm assuming the Arthurian knights aren't chilling out in that kind of region.

# ? Aug 11, 2023 08:16

nine-gear crow: Aug 10, 2013

Yadoppsi posted:

I enjoyed the mental reminders to not look at David's chest. A little dash of relatability authors who weren't once teenage girls don't normally know to include.

The writing dynamic that served them well for Animorphs is paying off for Applegate and Grant here too.

# ? Aug 11, 2023 09:23

WrightOfWay: Jul 24, 2010

freebooter posted:

Curious about the geography of Everworld since I think it said the dragon was attacking them while they were still in the jungle, but I'm assuming the Arthurian knights aren't chilling out in that kind of region.

I got the impression that it was only a couple of days sail from vikingland to aztecland in the first book so I am assuming there is some compressed geography going on.

# ? Aug 11, 2023 16:22

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

Yeah it's Magix, so I assume it's just like a video game where you're suddenly in another biome.

# ? Aug 11, 2023 22:04

Randal: Apr 20, 2016; not adding value on SA one post at a time

Soonmot posted:

Hey all, sorry for the slowness, like I said, housesitting. Things will be back to normal this weekend!
I am surprised to see so little conversation about April, although to be fair, not much has happened.

I ended up reading ahead a few chapters. I rarely have any interest in YA stuff but something about this clicks with me

# ? Aug 11, 2023 22:43

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

/\/\Ha, glad you're hooked!

quote:

V

"Well, well," I said.

"It's good to see you," Senna said. She slid out from behind David.

I didn't know what to say. "Well, well" had pretty much used up my possibilities. We had followed Senna into Everworld and been following her, one way or another, ever since. Following without really knowing why, or even what or
whom we were following.

We'd finally caught up with her, or she with us, and she'd had just enough time to sidestep Jalil's pointed questions, when the dragon attacked.

Then I thought of something to say. "David, maybe they can get you another room. One without snakes."

Senna laughed her mocking laugh. Then her eyes went all sincere. I swear, I worry she's a better actress than I'll ever be.

"April, you're mad because you don't understand what's happening."

"You're right I don't understand," I admitted. "So why don't you explain?"

"I only know part of the picture," she said. "But what I know is so... so incredible, so powerful..."

I think I must have rolled my eyes. Not consciously. It's just my standard response to b.s.

"It's all right," David said reassuringly. "Don't worry, you just don't understand."

"Has she explained it all to you, David?�

Again the wrinkling of his brow, the confused look in his dark eyes.

"David knows that what I'm doing is important and that I need his support," Senna said earnestly. But then I saw the cocky smirk that hid beneath the surface. Not such a great actress, really.

"Where are Jalil and Christopher?" I asked. "Maybe they're still both men."

It was meant as an insult. It was meant to make David mad, wake him up. Senna seemed to have some power over David. Was it strong, unshakable?

David's eyes narrowed.

"Don't try to provoke him," Senna said.

"Don't try to provoke me," David said.

I wanted to throw up. Or throw something. He was her puppet. She might as well have her arm inserted up his butt.

"Think I'll go say hi to the other guys," I said. I turned away. Headed down the hall. Heard Senna move. Heard her call to me.

"Don't fight me, April. You think I'm bad, evil, but you're wrong. There are real evils here. I'm doing all I can to resist them. You don't have to like me but you should at least believe that. I saved your lives. Why would I do that if I wanted
to hurt you?"

It was a good point. She'd spoken with sincerity and feeling. A nice little speech. It sounded rehearsed. I stopped walking.

"Why would you save us? Because you need us. You want to use us. That's why we're here. Because you need us for something."

She was wearing a silky sort of nightgown with wide sleeves, a deep neckline that hung loose from her narrow, vulnerable shoulders, and slits up the sides to show off her legs. Something that just happened to be in Sir Galahad's closet?
Where did she find something like that? I blinked and looked again. The neckline had risen. No. That wasn't possible. And the fabric was more opaque I shook it off. Bizane. My mind playing tricks.

She spread her hands wide. "I'm the victim here, April. I'm the one who was snatched up by Fenrir, carried away. I'm the one who simply appeared alongside that murderous filth Huitzilopoctli. I'm the one Merlin's mercenary dragon was trying to kill."

I walked back to her, mostly to show I wasn't scared of her. "How did you get away from Fenrir?"

"I... I didn't. I mean, it wasn't me. I just happened to �"

"You want me to believe you, Senna? Start telling the truth."

"The truth is dangerous to you. The less you know, the better. I am trying to keep you alive, all of you."

I blinked. Was that the truth? Was she right? She moved closer, reached for my hand, inches from touching me. Maybe she was right, maybe I was being a paranoid fool. She'd never actually done anything evil that I knew of. I was jumping to conclusions and �

"Don't let her touch you!" Christopher yelled.

I jerked my hand away.

"That's how she does it." He came up behind me. I glanced back. Jalil was with him.

"Still jealous, Christopher?" Senna mocked him. "Just because I chose David to keep me warm through the night and not you?"

"You bet I'm jealous. Totally jealous," Christopher admitted. "But that doesn't change what you are."

Senna pushed away from David. She stepped over to the tall window, gazed out in a parody of "thoughtful consideration," then turned her gaze on us.

She was the picture-perfect waif, the little lost girl, the "someone take care of me, I'm just ever-so-fragile" creature of fashion photo layouts. Lank blond hair, gray, sorrowful eyes, full lips. All she lacked to be the next Calvin Klein girl was the blankly stupid model look in her eyes.

Give her credit: Senna's eyes were alive, focused, intense, glittering. Greedy.

"No hands," she said, holding up her hands. "No magic Happy now?"

David didn't look happy. He looked sick. Lost. A puppy whose master has yelled "Stay!" and gone off alone.

"Okay, you're all upset that you're here. Okay, you're all mad at me. Okay, you all think I'm up to something. You're right, I am," she said.

"What?" Jalil asked reasonably.

"Changes are coming. Cataclysmic changes. The old order will be thrown down, a new order will rise up in its place. The Hetwans' god, Ka Anor, is a revolution, a terror. I can affect how things happen. 1 can't stop it, but I can make it good instead of bad. I'm sorry if you don't like my methods, but I do what I have to do."

For a second I wavered.

Then Jalil, in his dry, doesn't-impress-me voice, said, "That's pretty good: an entire paragraph saying absolutely nothing."

"Everything I say you meet with hostility and suspicion," Senna said sadly. "Fine. Merlin will come soon, Galahad will give Merlin what he wants: Me. Then how do you suppose you'll ever get back home?"

"You can get us back home?" Christopher snapped.

"I and no one else," she said. "You want to go home, back to your lives? Permanently, I mean, not drifting back and forth like unhappy ghosts? I can make that happen. But not if Merlin gets me first."

That, at last, was a point I had to listen to. It had the ring of truth. Senna had carried us along with her to Everworld. Maybe she could get us home again.

"Let David go," I said. Senna looked surprisedi "Aww, you want him for yourself, April?" She shrugged. "You have excellent taste. He's very gentle underneath it all."

"That's not it. Just let him go. We need to think about what you've said. He's one of us."

"I'm one of you."

"Let him go."

Full, pouty. Cover Girl lips drew back, an animal baring its teeth. Then she sighed, letting it go with an unspoken promise to take care of me later.

"Already done. He's all yours."

David rubbed his eyes like he'd had a flash go off in his face. When he pulled his hands away his eyes were wary. And a little embarrassed. He looked around like he was wondering where his shirt was.

Senna stabbed her finger at me. "Just remember this, April: I die, you never leave."

A nice exit line. But it was spoiled by the way she froze, cocked her head to the side, as if listening to voices in her head. Her pale face grew paler still. Real emotion, maybe the only real emotion she could feel, revealed itself on her face. Fear.

"No," she whispered. "He's here."

"Who?" Jalil asked.

At that moment the door at the far, gloomy end of the hallway opened wide. A file of men with helmets, tall pikes, and swords belted at their waists marched toward us.

Their officer swaggered importantly in front, but he was shaken, worried. And not by us. Something had gone wrong. Something very bad was happening.

He came to a stop a few feet from us, eyes on Senna, wary. He bowed without ever letting Senna out of his sight.

"My lord has commanded me to say that he would be honored by your attendance in the great hall."

"So, I guess Merlin is here, huh?" Christopher asked. "Cool."

"The wizard, yes," the captain of the guard said. "And the god."

Okay. So Merlin isn't just a wizard, but a god, here. I wonder what this means to the knights, wasn't Galahad's whole thing the quest for the Grail? Or was that all the knights of the round table? Like I said earlier, I was never interested in Arthurian myth, so I only know what I've absorbed through pop culture.

# ? Aug 12, 2023 01:32

Mazerunner: Apr 22, 2010; Good Hunter, what... what is this post?

I think the captain is saying that a god is here in addition to Merlin (probably the thing that has gone wrong and shaken him)

e; actually no I'm wrong

# ? Aug 12, 2023 02:48

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

Mazerunner posted:

I think the captain is saying that a god is here in addition to Merlin (probably the thing that has gone wrong and shaken him)

e; actually no I'm wrong

This was my read too.

# ? Aug 12, 2023 15:52

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

VII

I was given clothing for the big meal. A full-length dress or tunic. Low-cut square neckline, totally wrong for my bra straps, deep sleeves.

I actually worried that Senna would be better dressed. A stupid thing to worry about at that particular moment, with a harried, scared serving woman adjusting the shoulders and the neckline. But strange things will pop into your head at the wrong times. I considered it a good sign. A sign my brain was hanging onto normalcy in
spite of everything.

The serving woman didn't like my slipping my badq>ack on, but she didn't argue too much. Mostly she muttered under her breath about gods coming to a banquet, and what would come of it, nothing good, she was sure.

We assembled a few minutes later, back in the hallway. The guys were wearing what they'd worn in: a motley collection of their own, normal clothes and Viking animal skins. Only Senna and I had been dressed up. And yes, she looked better than me.

It all gave me a queasy little feeling. What kind of castle was this Galahad running? He stocked women's clothing? What next, a circular bed, mirrors on the ceiling, and X-rated videos?

I had this flash of Galahad as Austin Powers. "Welcome to Everworld, baby, it's shagadelic."

But that wasn't my greatest concern. The captain of the guard had said we'd be dining with a god. So far the gods I'd met didn't make me want to meet more.

"Kind of early for lunch, and late for break-fast," Christopher muttered. "I mean, what is it, like, ten? Ten-thirty?"

"Brunch," I said.

"I imagine when a god shows up and says, 'I'm hungry,' you eat right then, whatever time it is," Jalil said. "Besides, they don't exactly have clocks."

David was quiet. It disturbed me. Was he still inder Senna's control? Or was he himself again?

I shot a glance at Senna, at the side of her face. lips pressed thin, face tight. She was scared. Well, that was good at least. Maybe.

Unless she was telling the truth and we needed her to escape from Everworld.

We marched along behind the captain, flanked by his guards. The men-at-arms kept their distance from Senna, leaving gaps around her, but keeping her hemmed in just the same. Heavy boots rang on flagstone. Our sneakers
were silent. I was wearing sneakers and a full-length dress. Like some suburban housewife wrangling the kids into the supermarket who threw on the last clean thing she had.

We marched, and I do mean marched, because it's impossible to be surrounded by people marching and not fall into it yourself. We passed a window that framed a stunningly beautiful view: gray-green waves foaming around
jumbled rocks, the ocean, a blue sky. So beautiful my heart was torn between optimism (I mean, what could go wrong with the sun shining and the waves crashing?) and the gloomy feeling that this sight was the last sweet vision I'd ever see.

We marched into the great hall of the castle. Lots of granite. No shortage of rock in this place. Walls, floors, arched ceiling, all stone. You could feel it weighing down on you, smothering the air. The walls had been painted a sort of ocher color and were hung with tapestries similar to the one in my room. None of it helped. This room
would never be cozy.

There was a fireplace so big you would be happy to have a walk-in closet half the size. The fire blazed from what had to have been a tree trunk. The heat seemed to reach about half the distance to the massive table. it was cold in the room. Not surprising, given that we were in the middle of a heap of stones with no glass in the windows. Three dogs wandered back and forth, anxious, anticipating food. I had no desire to pet them. Servants leaned against the wall on either side of the fireplace. There were three tables. A main one like the one in da Vinci's Last Supper, then two smaller ones at right angles from the main table.

All the tables were set with white cloths, water bowls, a silver ship thing that seemed to hold salt, knives, spoons, and goblets of varying degrees of magnificence. Some were gold-encrusted, with what looked like rubies and emeralds and probably were rubies and emeralds. I kept having to remind myself this was not some elaborate
stage set. This was real. Or as real as Everworld could be. At the other end of the spectrum were rude bowls carved out of wood.

The chairs, too, were mismatched, varying from three massive, near-throne things at the main table, down to what looked like short bar stools built by carpenters who'd worked with butter knives for tools.

There was no attempt at equally. There was the A-list, the B-list, and the peasants. Or maybe Galahad, like any host, only had so many good diairs. The stools were the equivalent of the folding chairs you bring up from the basement when extra people show up.

"I'm guessing we sit there," Christopher said, pointing to a set of particularly K-mart dishes and diairs.

We were not alone in the room. A dozen people, all men � mostly bearded, hair down to their shoulders, or in some cases, cut short, all adorned with at least one jewel, a ring or a brooch or a sort of pendant � milled and talked in whispers and sidelong glances.

The sidelong glances were for Senna. Not welcoming looks, either. Expressions ranged from fearful to lascivious to thoughtful.

They were a sturdy, confident group. One in particular was quite handsome, pretty even. Others were older and rougher.

"Percy, dude!" Christopher called out.

One of the knights gave him a nod of the head. but otherwise kept his distance. We were with the witch.

"That guy can hold his ale," Christopher reported. "See the good-looking guy? You know who that is? That's Sir Gawain. That's Sir Kay and Sir Gareth." He shook his head wonderingly, "So cool."

The names were supposed to mean something to me, but didn't. Christopher acted like he'd just pointed out the cast of Buffy. "Do we sit or what?" I asked.

Christopher shook his head. "We did this last night when we first got to the castle. Just a light snack then, plus adult beverages. You wait for the main boys to show up. Galahad comes last. His house. Then we sit. We drink. We eat. We throw stuff on the floor. We fart and belch and scratch ourselves in private places. We talk about
wenches and laugh real loud. You'll love it. Kind of like the school cafeteria back in junior high."

Jalil made quiet introductions all over again, obviously as impressed as Christopher. "That's Sir Perceval, Sir Kay, Sir Gawain..."

My brain clicked. "What is, 'Knights of the Round Table, Alex?'" I asked Jeopardy-style.

"You got it," Jalil said. "The Knights of the; freaking Round Table. King Arthtur's boys."

"What are they doing in Everworld? They aren't immortals. They aren't gods."

"Hey, you need someone to rescue virgins and kill dragons, which covers both you girls," Christopher said, batting his eyes at me and Senna.

Jalil smothered a grin. "Why don't you ask them, April? My one hope is we'll get some answers now. We're having brunch with Merlin, Galahad, the Knights of the Round Table, and some god. We ought to at least get a clue."

"They're legends, though, not gods," Christopher said, echoing my point. "I mean, if legends are here, too, am I gonna get to meet Michael Jordan, or what?"

David remained quiet. Deep within himself.

Senna stood away from us, staring into the fire, shielding herself from the hard looks all around us. Tense. She was waiting for something. Fearful of something.

Personally, I was torn between fear and the more basic feeling of hunger. I was starving. Starving and with nothing really specific to be afraid of. Yet.

A big door at the far end of the hall was thrown open. And in walked the old man with the once-blond hair and beard. He wore a robe, dark blue. But not the goofy curly-toed slippers you'd expect on some goofy book wizard. He wore boots crusted with mud and pants tucked in at the top, also muddy and only now beginning to dry.

There was a sword at his side.

Merlin.

We'd met him before, briefly, at the temple of Huitzilopoctli. Other things had seemed more important at the time.

I should have asked Magda about him. Or looked him up in a book. Something. These people were all myths, legends. But they were real enough here and now. Real and with real weapons.

The knights nodded with exaggerated casual-ness, showing respect for the wizard but not fear. Or so they thought. The fear came in the way they parted for the old man, took a half step back without really thinking about it. That's one of the things you learn to do when you study acting. You watch the nonverbal cues. That's what gives a performance depth. The knights were all like, "Hey, Merlin, what's up?" But get past the easy words and bluff tone and you saw faces drawn back, bodies turned at an angle to protect the vitals, an unconscious cringe.

Merlin worried them.

With a glance the old man took all this in. Amusement beneath bushy brows. Then he looked at us, the group waiting to be shown to a table, "the witches, party of five."

Senna took a deep, slow breath and turned toward him.

"I don't believe we've met," she said. "My name is Senna Wales." She reached out a hand to shake his.

Merlin's mouth twitched in a fleeting smile. He stepped forward and took her hand. Held it. Gen-tie, not squeezing. Not threatening. Like a courtly old man taking any young woman's hand.

Senna's eyes drooped, lids half-closed. Merlin stared straight at her. The moment dragged on and on. Then, with a gasp, Senna pulled away.

"Don't waste your trickery on me, enchantress," Merlin said. "I was casting spells a thousand years before you were born."

Senna was shaking. She looked at her hand like it had turned into a snake. Maybe it had, at least in her eyes.

"And Merlin scores a three-pointer," Christopher commented. "That's Merlin three, Senna zip."

The gaggle of knights stirred. Someone else was coming into the room. And this time the knights didn't even pretend not to be scared. I stood on tiptoes to see. Galahad. And looking good, I admitted to myself, looking very good, even without the armor.

Then Sir Kay moved a little to the left and I saw the person beside him.

My heart stopped beating. Literally. Beat. Beat.

Pause. Silence, The blood rushed again, eyes widened, stomach churned.

Loki.

Loki. Norse god of evil and destruction. He'd held us prisoner, chained by our wrists on the outer walls of his castle. Sent us to our deaths at the hands of his trolls. Or so he'd thought.

He was handsome, that's what was weird about him. Lustrous blond hair, high cheekbones, and perfect teeth. He could have been a model. He could have been a movie star. He wore a green tunic with a belt encrusted with jewels, an entire jewelry store of jewels. He wore buff leggings and tall, calfskin boots. He was a Viking by way of Rodeo Drive. Perfect-fitting, perfect-looking, perfectly clean and pressed clothing, and a face to match. He looked like, something carved out of marble, flawless, ageless.

"Well, screw us," David whispered.

"Loki," Senna said, but not in shock or surprise.

'Yes," Merlin said. "Loki has honored us with his presence. This should be a very interesting meal." He looked around the room, not so flip now, looked, it seemed to me, at each face in turn. And in a much lower voice said, almost to himself, "I wonder how many here will live to see another dawn."

I'm glad April and Christopher are asking the same questions as I've been. The Knights of the Round aren't gods, if all it takes is invested human imagination to be in Everworld, and not divinity, than who else is here? Also: wtf Loki is here? With Merlin?!

# ? Aug 13, 2023 23:24

WrightOfWay: Jul 24, 2010

I mean the random vikings and aztecs aren't gods either. Maybe the Christian God is around somewhere and brought the Knights as his entourage/worshippers or however this works.

# ? Aug 14, 2023 01:42

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

WrightOfWay posted:

I mean the random vikings and aztecs aren't gods either. Maybe the Christian God is around somewhere and brought the Knights as his entourage/worshippers or however this works.

Yeah, but they're just people who could have come from earth and been raised in these cultures the gods have created around themselves, assuming the gods didn't have the power to just create the people themselves. The knights are actual named characters from stories, Merlin is an actual named character from a story. And yeah, that could mean that this realm is ruled over by the christian god. I don't know, it's weird and interesting and I'm excited to see that this was something purposefully done by applegrant when they created this story.

# ? Aug 14, 2023 02:54

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

The other interesting thing that raises is when, exactly, Everworld was created. I think Aztec and Viking civilisations existed contemporaneously to the King Arthur mythos (or at least, the time period when Arthur was supposed to be around - like 600 AD I think?) but some of the religions we're going to see down the track I'm pretty sure did not.

# ? Aug 14, 2023 20:03

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

that is a really interesting observation. Any history nerds out there want to date these civilizations?

# ? Aug 14, 2023 22:23

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

VIII

''We've been set up!" David hissed. His hand jerked toward the hilt of Merlin's sword.

Merlin guffawed, shaken out of his gloom. "You will draw a sword in the home of Galahad? Hah-hah-hah! Here, fool, take mine. I'll have it back soon enough."

"Chill, David," I snapped. "Don't let Senna get you killed."

"Food!" Galahad yelled, oblivious to us.

Servants rushed in carrying platters piled high with meat. Whole pigs, quartered cows, slabs of mutton, a deer with everything including the head in place, mountains of quail and chickens, and some small bird that for its size and shape made me think of pigeons. Huge, crusty loaves of bread. Bread. Ten different kinds of meat. Not a green vegetable to be seen.

"Oh, waiter, my lady Mend here would like a small green salad with a balsamic vinaigrette," Christopher whispered in my ear. "And do you have any tofu?"

He made jokes with Loki right there. Loki, who had ordered us killed.

We milled toward the table. Everyone seemed to know where to sit. Everyone but us. The knights plopped down near Galahad, Merlin, and Loki, who sat together at the head of the table. They weren't happy to be near Loki. No one was happy that Loki had joined us. A fact that the god seemed to enjoy, as he smirked left and right.

We took the small chairs at one of the side tables. It reminded me of sitting at the kids' table at Thanksgiving. Except for the fact that a servant came and filled my cheap wooden cup with red wine. And except for the fact that the places where my grandparents might sit were occupied by a Knight of the Round Table, a wizard, and the
Norse god of evil.

I was glad to be fer away. There were a bunch of tough-looking men between me and Loki. Not enough, but better than bumping elbows with him.

I'd have been more glad to be home, my own home, my own world, far from the beautiful, evil thing that sat grinning cockily, like the one uncle who got rich.

Merlin sat to Galahad's left. Loki to his right. The place of honor.

I looked at Senna. Couldn't help it. She belonged to all this, we didn't, I didn't. How was I supposed to know what to do, how to act, who even to fear?

But Senna seemed as concerned as I was. More. A small vein in her translucent temple was throbbing. Jaw muscles clenching and releasing. Throat swallowing dust.

Remember that, I told myself, if you ever need to act a scene combining fear with confusion and a desperate desire to gain some sort of control. Yeah, it was all an acting class. Right, April.

Galahad and Loki, the knight and the god, were a study in male beauty. Both were handsome men. They could have been brothers. In the real world I'd have thought they were gay, far too perfect, far too perfect in the details of teeth and hair and fingernails.

But aside from the fact that either of them could have made Leo DiCaprio look like Dustin Hoffman, they had nothing in common.

Galahad was calm, assured, soft-spoken once we were past his bellowed demand for "Food!" His eyes were often downcast, not sad, but thoughtful. He smiled, but not in derision, only in welcome. He sat tall in his chair, arms held wide, open, inviting, an equal at least in his body language. When he spoke, he met the eyes of the person he spoke to, listened attentively, nodded appreciatively.

And yet there was nothing passive in him, and certainly nothing fawning. He wasn't hoping to make people like him. He wasn't indifferent to their feelings, he just didn't doubt who and what he was. He filled his space completely and seemed almost to radiate outward, a sun at the center of orbiting planets.

I wondered how old he was. He might have been twenty years old. Or younger. A college junior. But, of course, that was impossible. His age, the age of his face and features, was unreal. And yet, put him in weathered jeans and a baggy cotton sweater, give him a book of poetry, and move him to a bookstore or a coffee shop, and he could have asked me out.

Loki was very different. Restless, jumpy even, eyes darting, mouth framing malicious smiles that came and went with each passing thought in his mind. He was a god, shrunken to near-human proportions for the moment, maybe seven feet tall. He was taller than anyone else, larger, more powerful, and yet in some undefinable way he
seemed smaller than Galahad, who could not have been even six feet tall.

You could do anything to Loki, dress him in a suit and tie, or L.L. Bean flannel, or a police uniform, or a priest s cassock, and it wouldn't change the fact that you'd want to move away from him: change seats on the train, find another line to stand in, decide to walk a different direction.

"I must apologize for this poor, rustic fare," Galahad said. "I would have prepared a banquet perhaps more worthy of a god had I known you would grace us with your presence."

"Think nothing of it," Loki said. "I am a simple god."

I saw Christopher's face light up, no doubt with some joke. Thankfully, he thought it over.

The food began to be passed. Conversation picked up. The knights spoke to Galahad, he spoke to them. We, for the most part, were ignored.

"At least he's fairly normal size today," Christopher said, nodding at Loki.

Senna reached for David's hand. I got up, dragged my chair over, and shoved in between them. This brought a faint nod from Merlin.

"We have to run," Senna hissed at me.

David took a quick, appraising look around the room. "That window," he whispered. "We could jump."

"Go for it, slick," Christopher: said. "That's Gala-freaking-had sitting down there. You get past him, you got Loki and Merlin. You're a bug here, man. There's no one in this room that couldn't take you down and turn you into the
next rump roast."

David looked at Senna for guidance.

"Yeah, that's a good idea, ask her, she's done so well so far."

The meat was passed here and there, plates loaded, glasses filled, and everyone went to it with flashing knives and open mouths chewing, chewing, chewing.

All but me and Senna.

Galahad leaned forward and looked at me with concern. "The lady is not well?"

"What?" I squeaked. "Who, me? Oh. You mean because... Um, well, actually, I don't eat meat. Usually."

The knights looked a bit stunned by that stammered announcement. But Galahad only said, "You have but to command it, and if it may be found anywhere in these lands, it will be yours."

He smiled. I smiled. Okay, yes, I admit it, 1 was going all Harlequin suddenly. But he had a smile... eyes that...

"He didn't ask if you wanted to get married, move into a Victorian, and have three kids," Christopher said just loudly enough for half the table to hear.

"Um... food. Oh! Don't worry about it, your... Mister... I mean, I'm not a total vegetarian, I eat eggs and cheese, for example. I mean, if s more about cruelty to animals for me."

I am so much smoother in my mind than I am in reality.

"That's good, give him a lecture on vegetarianism," Christopher muttered. "Then you can explain�"

I kicked Christopher. He choked on a piece of ham. And Galahad yelled, "Cheese! Eggs!"

Christopher gagged, turned red, gacked out his food with the assist of a loud backslap from Jalil, and the eggs and cheese started rolling in. They were birds' eggs, but they were hard-boiled, and the bread was pretty good. The
cheese was something very close to cheddar.

"Excellent mutton," Loki said. "We get too little mutton in my home country. I must arrange to have my adoring and industrious people import more sheep."

The conversations, which had gotten pretty loud, were suddenly a few points quieter. Chairs shifted. Men pulled their feet back under them, ready to move and move fast. It was like the moment in an old Western when the bad guy walks up to the saloon bar and offers to buy a drink for the good guy. And you know the good guy will
refuse. And you know the bad guy is going to push it. And everyone in the bar is thinking. How do I keep from getting shot?

Loki's words were innocuous. Pleasant, even.

But in this room of violent men, some signal had been sent that they recognized instantly. Violence, never far away, drew very near.

That's some good tension getting ratcheted up in here. Also I'd like to point out that every tie this chapter uses the word �fact� it was transcribed as �feet�. I have no idea how the pdf of these books was made, but I got so many mistakes like that, weird formatting issues, the chapter headers keep changing style. It's weird af and if this is how the animorphs books were like, I have even more respect for Epi having gone through that entire series.

# ? Aug 14, 2023 22:35

Zore: Sep 21, 2010; willfully illiterate, aggressively miserable sourpuss whose sole raison d�etre is to put other people down for liking the wrong things

I love this scene because it really is the dinner from hell for pretty much everyone in attendance. And its helping to start tell us some of the rules of Everworld, the fact Loki is at least playing nice here means Merlin, Galahad or whoever's in charge of the Arthurian knights can match him or at least make it too much of a pain to come in hot.

# ? Aug 15, 2023 03:16

WrightOfWay: Jul 24, 2010

Soonmot posted:

that is a really interesting observation. Any history nerds out there want to date these civilizations?

Arthur: circa 500
Vikings: 800-1000ish
Aztecs: 1400s to early 1500s

The viking and aztec religions probably predate those years, but those are generally the rough eras people are thinking of when they refer to vikings and aztecs.

# ? Aug 15, 2023 15:54

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

That's so weird I think of vikings as older than knights

# ? Aug 15, 2023 15:59

Zore: Sep 21, 2010; willfully illiterate, aggressively miserable sourpuss whose sole raison d�etre is to put other people down for liking the wrong things

Soonmot posted:

That's so weird I think of vikings as older than knights

A lot of Arthurian myth changed over time, or its iconography was updated to use much later technology, religion etc in later depictions.

It originally started as a Welsh myth about a king fighting the Saxon invasion and was decidedly non-Christian. Pretty much every pop culture thing people today know about King Arthur was a centuries later addition or revision, with some things (like Lancelot) showing up nearly 500 years after the initial mythos.

But yeah, the original 'Arthurian Knights' probably weren't running around with full plate and lances as you might expect. The pop culture idea of knighthood is rooted in a very specific (and late!) era, but the concept of Knights existed for like 1000 years before that.

# ? Aug 15, 2023 16:10

bird food bathtub: Aug 9, 2003; College Slice

So the gods are all god-ing around doing their weird stuff, and I kinda take it as granted that they don't "die" like normal mortals since that's usually a thing in fiction. Has there been any indication what happens to mortals when they die gloriously in battle or have their hearts cut out or just get really old or whatever? And how do "mortal maybe not mortal kinda what?" situations like Merlin or Galahad work? Are they mortal? Are they "gods" under the rules of this realm? Do they not age?

# ? Aug 15, 2023 16:23

Malpais Legate: Oct 1, 2014

Soonmot posted:

That's so weird I think of vikings as older than knights

If I recall correctly, the modern depictions of Arthur and his knights with full plate mail and such is an anachronism. I don't think full suits of armor like that were really a thing until the 14-1500s. So Vikings are typically older than that aesthetic of knights in that regard.

There's a bunch of debate about the historicity of Arthur but if he was real (or at least an amalgamation of various rules/heroes put to legend) he was probably a lot less like the knightly romance idea of knighthood. Probably a lot more tribal chieftainy? Someone correct me if I'm wrong it's been like a decade since I was taking British literature/history.

That does make me wonder if Arthur is kicking around Everworld or if he's just dead and we've got the Merlin and Galahad show now.

edit: lmao beaten

# ? Aug 15, 2023 16:25

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

Now that's more interesting to me personally than pop culture Arthur.

# ? Aug 15, 2023 16:31

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Hang on! Vikings... aztecs.... knights... this is just age of empires 2 fanfiction.

# ? Aug 15, 2023 23:07

TGG: Aug 8, 2003; "I Dare."

More of an Age of Mythology's 2 I think.

# ? Aug 15, 2023 23:46

Tree Bucket: Apr 1, 2016; R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Haha yes, with Loki and hints of Egyptians...

I hope we get some "rules" of this world established soon. The cherrypicking across one thousand years of history (while everyone speaks contemporary english, and Azetc lands are a short sail away from the icy north) gives everything a very disjointed feel. Like the "gaps" are less about authorial intent and more about the author having a very hazy mental picture of what they're writing about.

# ? Aug 16, 2023 08:09

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

These were short chapters and I missed yesterday, so here's three of them!

quote:

IX

"I would be happy to instruct my estate manager to arrange a shipment of sheep fit for breeding," Galahad said, smiling his polite smile.

"Thank you, thank you, that's most gracious," Loki said. "And I hate to impose any further, but I'd like my witch back at the same time."

The last conversation died. Words begun were not finished. Every eye was on Galahad. "The witch is not mine to give, Great Loki," Galahad said as he calmly stuffed a fist-sized wad of pork into his mouth.

"And yet, there she sits at your table."

"She is my guest."

Loki's polite manners were wearing thin. "Your guest is my property. Sir Galahad."

Merlin spit out a piece of gristle, swilled a mouthful of wine, and said, "I'm curious, Great Loki. What use do you intend for the witch?"

Loki forced a smile. "What I do with my property is my concern, wizard."

Merlin nodded. "In Galahad's castle all matters are his concern."

"Don't provoke me, old meddler." Loki began to swell, to grow. Not all at once, just a little, just so that he was now twenty percent bigger thanhe'd been.

The consumption of meat slowed. The knights all knew exactly where their sword hilts were, exactly how many milliseconds to reach and grab and draw and swing.

Galahad raised one finger, a slight signal to his brother knights to wait. David was eyeing a serving knife that
protruded from the head of a baked wild boar.

"Perhaps we should ask the witch what she wants," Merlin said calmly, unmoved by Loki's display. "If she desires to go with you. Great Loki �"

Loki's oversized fist slammed the table, made the platters jump. Dead meat quivered. Cups spilled. Sir Gawain cursed and reached back to grab a servant for a refill.

"This is my home. Great Loki," Galahad said mildly. "You are my guest."

Loki jumped to his feet, growing still larger and more menacing. "She's mine! Mine! It was I who took her and brought her across the barrier between worlds. She is mine by right of conquest."

"You mean to use her to destroy our world," Merlin said. "That makes her every man's concern."

"Destroy?" Loki cried. "Destroy? You jackass, Everworld is already destroyed. Do you think you can withstand Ka Anor when he comes? Thor is gone. He went to battle with Ka Anor and has not been seen since. Will you stop the creature that ate Thor and spit out his hammer?"

Suddenly Merlin's world-weary pose dropped away. He clenched his fist and stared hard at the looming god. "1 warned you, Loki. Warned you all that we could only win out if we were united. If all the gods, all the powers were united, together we could �"

"Unite? Your great dream. Merlin, a world of unity and peace, under one leader. You tried that. And where is Arthur now? Dead. Dead from your own carelessness. And yet you preach that same tired vision: Everworld united, all as one to fight Ka Anor. But I do not follow. I do not obey. I am a god!"

"It's the only way!" Merlin shouted. "Ka Anor is the god-eater, he will kill you all, one by one, and the Hetwan will exterminate all the free peoples, and that will be an end to Everworld. Together we have a chance. Viking and Greek, Mayan and Aztec and Egyptian, Celt and Briton and African, and yes, those like the Coo-Hatch
who will join us, all united we can �"

"No. There is another way." Loki stabbed his finger toward Senna. "As we came to Everworld, we can return to the Old World. The thousand years of the prophecy are almost done. Leave Everworld to Ka Anor. Let the alien invaders have it We can escape. We can escape, through her!

"I'm not greedy, Merlin. You can come, too. All the gods are welcome." He spread his hands like a misunderstood man pleading for tolerance. �Zeus's children are welcome; Quetzalcoatl and Huitzilopoctli; Isis and Osiris; and all the immortals, all welcome, all grudges forgotten. Even tiresome tree worshippers like you may come along.
Merlin. A better world than this. The Old World. Just give me the witch, and we will leave Everworld and seal the door behind us."

Galahad looked up at Loki, now a giant, twelve feet tall. "The witch is my guest, Great Loki. And Merlin has his own claim to her. This is not a decision I will rush. And I will not be swayed by threats."

Loki bent down to bring his huge face, lips drawn back in a feral snarl, close to Galahad. "They say you are the perfect knight. But I am a god. Do not oppose me. My powers are great."

"You're a long way from your home, Loki," Merlin said.

"This is going to turn bad real quick," David whispered. "All hell's gonna break loose. They'll be too busy to notice us. When it hits the fan, we book."

I didn't know if that came from Senna or from him, but either way he was right.

Loki grinned at Merlin. Focused all his malevolent attention on the old man with the bad hair. And then, suddenly, swept his arm back, caught Galahad with a backhand blow and knocked the knight out of his chair, sprawling across the floor.

quote:

X
The knights jumped back, drew their swords with a single ringing clang.

David lunged for the knife and yanked it from the pig. "Come on!"

Galahad rolled, wiped blood from his mouth, stood up, drew his sword, all in one fluid motion. He was suddenly a very different man. The smile was gone. The thoughtful eyes were wild, manic, excited.

Loki laughed, arrogantly sure the battle was already his.

Merlin stood apart and held up his hands as-if praying. In a clear, forceful voice he said, "Death to life.
Life to slaughter,
Arise, arise beasts of the forests.
Arise beasts of the fields,
Arise beasts of the air.
Forget your natures and become the wolf,
To kill a wolf."

And then, the wild boar, the tusked pig with its ribs stripped bare and its insides long since eaten, kicked its legs.
"Ah-ahh!" I cried.

The boar rolled over, stood on tiny hooves, and ran down the table toward Loki. And not alone. All the dead creatures, pigs, birds, sheep, and goats all sprang to hideous life, crisp skin crackling, blackened bones rasping,
empty eye sockets gaping, up they came, up from the platters, clattered over their own discarded bones and rushed at the Norse god.

A deer, gutted, meat gone from its legs, antlers cracked and charred from the fire, bounded down the table on legs of bone and tattered meat. All these creatures rushed Loki, leaped for him, attacked him, covered his face, forced him to bat wildly at them, knocking them down only to have them jump back up.

We had frozen. The running had stopped. How could I run? How could I move? An old man had just brought dead animals to life. But Loki was far from beaten, even as the beasts attacked him, bit and dawed, butted and
gouged, he lashed out. With one massive fist he knocked Gawain and Kay to the ground. Galahad rushed him, sword held high, but Loki caught the sword's blade in his bare hand. Black blood dripped from the god's hand,
dripped and froze as it fell, clinking little ice cubes by the time it hit the floor.

But Loki's hand was not cut through. He roared in pain and yanked the sword and Galahad up. Galahad hung on to the sword hilt, swimg back to get momentum, then forward, and slammed his feet into Loki's chest. The god staggered under these multiple assaults. His left hand snatched and crushed the beasts, one by one, splintering them, squeezing them till their crisped fat dripped grease on the floor.

His right hand held Galahad suspended by his sword, helpless. Loki's blood dripped onto Galahad's upturned face, searing him with pain. Perceval ran his sword into Loki's thigh, bringing a scream of pain and rage. Merlin watched, worried, but not done yet.

"Tree cut down.
Tree grown old.
Grow again, At
Merlin's word."

The table, planks of rough lumber, came alive. A terrifying time-lapse film, twigs shot up and out, ripping through the tablecloth. Bright green leaves unfurled, and branches grew at shocking speed, warping toward Loki, branches wrapping around his legs, entwining him in living oak. And now the rest of the knights, recovered
from the first shock, swung into action. Their swords hacked at Loki, careful to avoid Galahad. Loki yanked on Galahad's sword, caused the knight to drop free, spun the sword like the toy it seemed to be in his massive hand, and thrust the blade through Sir Perceval and pinned him to the rock floor like a lab frog ready for dissection.
Blood sprayed, Perceval cried out in agony, Galahad in horror.

David snapped out of his trance. "Now! Let's go!"

He grabbed Senna by the arm and yanked her away. She looked back over her shoulder, fascinated. Jalil looked sick, Christopher almost hysterical.

We ran for the door as Loki bellowed, "I will kill you, wizard!" in a voice that shook the granite floor beneath our feet.

To the door, our backs at last turned against the battle. Men-at-arms stood there, guards, transfixed, mesmerized. But one had the presence of mind to lower his spear to block our path.

"The witch stays!" he said.

David moved fast, stepped inside the range of the spear, too close to the guard, and pressed the dirty tip of the knife against the man's throat.

"We're leaving."

"I obey my Lord Galahad."

Senna grabbed the man's hand, clenched around the spear. Pressed her hand on his and
said, "This is a fight of wizards and gods, not your concern."

The guard blinked. "It's none of my concern."

David shoved him aside, yanked open the door, and we were out.

These two chapters were not just a solid action scene, we see Merlin in his power AND learn a bit about who and what are in Everworld.

Also: Tree Worshippers?

quote:

CHAPTER
XI

Down the hallway. Guards running toward us, boots thudding, swords swinging, armor clanking, running, scared, but running toward the fight, hurrying to help their master. Coming behind them, servants dragging armor and
weapons for their respective knights. like there would be time to suit up. Like there was time for anything but dying.

We brushed past them, ran some more. Not our fight. Not our problem. Not even our life or our universe. Somewhere I, the real me, was in class or at home or in the car, doing normal things. My things, from my world, not running in terror from the images of half-eaten pigs and sheep biting with heat-cracked teeth at a god who bled black ice.

"Where are we going?" Christopher demanded.

"The hell out of this castle," David said.

"Works for me," Christopher said.

A loud explosion knocked me to my knees. Flesh hit skirt hit stone. I felt pain. Ears rang. Tried to stand, confused. Looked around, everyone down, trying to stand. The dress was torn. 1 noticed that irrelevant fact. My knee was bleeding. Not since I was about four had I skinned my knee. Fell off my bike. Cried. My dad comforted me. Another universe, not here.

I stood up, shaky but standing. We ran some more. Hard to run the dress restricted me. A hallway. Another hallway. Stairs. Down and down. Yank up the dress and ran, losing arm movement, balance. Where was the way out of this place?

"Left!" Jalil yelled.

"How do you know?" David demanded.

"Just go left."

Left, another hallway, a door to the right outlined with daylight.

"Through there!" Jalil yelled.

The door was locked. David yanked, Christopher yanked, kicked, cursed. We could see sunlight, and we wanted to be out in the sun.

"Hey. Excalibur/' Christopher said. For a second no one understood. Then Jalil snapped, "The knife."

We had run into the Coo-Hatch and traded them a chemistry book for a new blade on Jalil's tiny Swiss Army knife. It was made with Coo-Hatch steel. "Excalibur" was Christopher's derisive joke.

Jalil opened the blade, taking time to show exaggerated care. Coo-Hatch steel cut anything.

"The hinges," I said.

Two massive iron hinges. No ordinary blade would have made a scratch. But Jalil's Excalibur sliced through like they were made of cheese.

"Lookout!"

The door fell inward. Daylight! And we ran. Into a courtyard. Horses milled nervously in a corral. Men-at-arms gaped up at the castle keep, a massive square tower that dominated the courtyard. The top of the tower was gone, blasted apart. The rabble was everywhere. The battle had moved. And Loki had grown. He was perhaps fifteen feet tall, more than twice the height of a man. He was injured, bleeding, black scars crisscrossing his arms and cruel, movie-star's face.

But he was not dead. Could he even be killed? Galahad stood balanced precariously on a broken wall, one step away from a hundred-foot plunge. He stood there, unarmored, sword held in both hands, thrusting, parrying, stabbing at the towering monster.

He was bleeding red. Black hair flying in the breeze. Muscular arms strained and sweating as he fought a tireless foe.

Merlin was out of sight, but as I watched I saw a body, a body that had once been Sir Perceval, wading into the fight, sword swinging through the air. Sir Kay, too, fought though dead. He swung his sword with one hand and held his own head cradled in the crook of his other arm. The detached head yelled soundlessly, mouth wide.

I was as cold as Loki's blood. Dead men had replaced the dead animals. Merlin's handiwork.

Christopher bared his teeth at Senna, a fierce contempt. "And you thought you'd put a spell on the guy who can do that?"

Senna was trembling. Maybe just mad. But I felt, wanted to feel, that she'd just gotten a lesson in her own weakness. A demonstration of what power meant in Everworld.

We get Excalibur saving the day as our kids run from the knights of the round table. cute.

# ? Aug 17, 2023 15:03

Malpais Legate: Oct 1, 2014

Is it "tree worshippers" because this isn't Christianity-influenced Arthurian legend, but original recipe British isles paganism/druidic Merlin?

# ? Aug 17, 2023 16:46

Zore: Sep 21, 2010; willfully illiterate, aggressively miserable sourpuss whose sole raison d�etre is to put other people down for liking the wrong things

Merlin casually pulling off some ridiculous magic bullshit and its clear he's only mostly inconveniencing Loki.

Also like that we have the stakes and a vague timeline established. Everworld's been around for almost a thousand years which are slightly desynched from Earth time. And Senna seems to be one of or possibly the sole power that can open gates between Earth and Everworld.

Also the two sides of what looks to be the major conflict over dealing with Ka Anor. Band together or run the hell away and throw away the key. Because Loki being absolutely poo poo-pants terrified and desperate is interesting and helps recontextualize things a bit.

Zore fucked around with this message at 17:06 on Aug 17, 2023

# ? Aug 17, 2023 17:03

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

XII

David pointed. "The front gate. That way. There it is, through there."

Maybe he was still under Senna's spell, maybe I couldn't trust him, but he did have a way of staying focused on what mattered. He grabbed Senna and dragged her away from watching the bizarre fight.

"On foot?" I cried. "We should take the horses."

"No time," he said.

"Hurry now, but we'll go slower later," I argued, panting. "Get the horses. Otherwise they'll catch us."

David hesitated.

Senna looked right at me. "I can't ride a horse."

"Well, figure it out. I'll show you."

"David," she said, and touched his hand, "I can't ride a horse. No horse will carry me."

Suddenly I was a long way and a long time from there. I was ten. Our parents had given in to my insistent demands for riding lessons. Senna had come along, too. First time on a horse for either of us. For me, it
was the easiest, most natural thing in the world. But for Senna...

"I apologize, folks," the stable owner had said. "I've never seen anything like it. Even poor old Mary Belle won't seem to let your daughter near her And Mary Belle's the gentlest mare I've ever owned."

I stared at Senna. She glared back, defiant.

"What do you mean, no horse will carry you?"

Jalil said. "You can get on the horse, or you can walk."

"Find her a broom, maybe she can fly," Christopher said.

"She's telling the truth. Forget the horses," I said.

"Let's forget her instead," Jalil said.

"She says she's the only way we can get back home. We need her," I reasoned.

"Every word out of her mouth is a lie," Christopher said.

"You want to take the chance? Leave her for Loki?"

Then I saw Galahad fall. Loki's fist punched his sword arm, knocked him off balance, and sent him windmilling backward. His left foot stepped on air. He toppled.

"Good-bye, perfect knight," Loki said.

Galahad fell. But then slowed. He fell slower and slower. He turned around in midair and prepared to land gently on his feet Merlin, of course.

But now Galahad was out of the fight. It was wizard versus god.

"Screw the horses, time just ran out," Jalil said and led the way toward the gate.

Through the gate. Across the lowered bridge.

Over the moat.

The castle was built at the edge of the sea. Intense green grass sloping down toward cliffs that crumbled into junk piles of rock. No escape there. No boat, no harbor, just the churning gray sea. The other way there was a handful of small houses, simple but snug-looking one-story things made of mud and wood with thatched roofs. Beyond the village were fields ripe with wheat and corn swaying in the late-morning breeze. And beyond the fields, the dark wall of the forest.

We raced across the drawbridge, over the moat, ran through the little village, oblivious to the stares, ignoring the nervous questions, running as though our lives depended on it. There was no road, not really, just a simple
path, rutted by wagon wheels that plunged through the fields toward the forest.

"Off the path, off the path," David ordered.

I turned right, into the field, running for the shelter of tall stalks of com. Along the rows, running pigeon-toed, feet together, shoulders drawn in to fit between the stalks. My elbows banged against corncobs, leathery leaves slapped at me. A loud explosion once again echoed from the castle behind us. I paused, looked back, saw it still
looming above me, gray and blackened stone between tasseled stalks.

I ran. Where were the others? I was losing them.

"David! Jalil! Christopher!"

"Right here!" Jalil yelled.

Right where? His voice was from my right. I pushed out of my row into the next one. Looked up and down. No one. Pushed through into the next row. Nothing.

I was panting, gasping for humid air thick with the smell of organic decay. My skinned knee stung. There were small cuts on my hands and arms from the leaves. Bruises on my elbows and forearms.

I wanted to cry. "Jalil? Jalil? Christopher? David?"

No answer. The sound of feet and running, but all the way back the other direction. Then, movement much closer. I pushed into the next row of com.

Troll.

I saw its back. Like one of the great building stones of the castle had grown crude arms and legs. From behind, you couldn't even see the slung-forward rhino head. It looked like a headless thing.

I tried to stop breathing. But my lungs were screaming for air. Willed my heart to slow, but... It turned.

Long blunt snout sniffed. Little pig eyes searched. Focused. It let loose a grunt and came for me.

I ran, stumbled through the row back toward the other sounds I'd heard but no, no way, I was feeble compared to the monster. I pushed the com rows apart, the troll simply flattened them. Loki's trolls, I thought. Oh, God, Loki had the castle surrounded. He didn't intend to lose. He'd ordered our death once before, and now, now I was left to outrun a beast that outweighed me five to one.

So tired. Run! No, think. Think! No time! Idiot, just run.

The troll wasn't fast but he wasn't tired, either. And where there was one there would be others. Where was David? And what would he do with his stupid carving knife against a troll? Huge footsteps trampled the ground, plodding, barely running, but keeping up with me. Had to lose him.

Confuse him, trolls aren't smart, April, they're stupid.

Confuse him.

Change rows. Run left. Change rows. Run right. Suddenly, the com was gone. No more rows! I was at the edge of a field of tall brown grass, maybe wheat, how would I know? It was almost as tall as me, but not taller. Not tall enough to hide me.

Backpack. What did I have in my backpack?

Most of our pathetic worldly possessions. Keys. Was that it? Did the troll hear them jangling? I stopped. Gasped, sucked air in a sob. Fumbled with the clasp. Keys. I snatched them in my fist and threw them.

Follow the sound, you stupid thing. Chase the sound.

Then I saw the watch. Jalil's watch. The band had been crushed and twisted. The crystal was chipped and loose, but basically intact. Ridiculous. It would never work.

No time, April, don't be an idiot, what are you, a Girl Scout?

The com wouldn't bum. Would the wheat? I grabbed a handful of the dried grass and yanked hard with the strength of terror. I squatted, Shaking, had to keep my hand steady. The sun beat down. Beat down on the crystal.
"Bring it to a point," I muttered, fighting hysteria. I moved the crystal, up, down, in millimeter increments. The tiny pinpoint of light grew narrower. I held it on a strand of grass.

Nothing.

The troll erupted from the com, twenty feet away. He swung his huge head toward me. A sword was in his three-fingered hand. Then I saw the second troll. A third.

I dropped the crystal from numb fingers. No. No. They had me. I couldn't get away. I fell to my knees. My palm landed on the crystal. I still held the handful of wheat. No other hope. Tiny, tiny hope, I had to keep trying, no
other hope at all. I was sobbing. Sobbing and holding the stupid crystal, cursing and praying at the same time, blaspheming and begging for divine intercession to the same jittering sentences.

A wisp of smoke.

Blow. Not too hard. Blow.

The trolls gathered around me, all so high above me, and stared down at me with their blank, stupid eyes. Stared at the girl who was too dim to run away.

Suddenly, flame. More grass. More blowing. Absurd. The trolls could put it out with a breath, with a foot, with a hard look, but they didn't.

The flame grew. The trolls gaped. Stared, and no longer at me. They stared at the fire, transfixed.

All at once I had a torch, a handful of burning grass. I swept the flaming grass around me in a semicircle. More grass caught fire. The trolls stepped back.

I stood up, quivering in every muscle. "That's right, I have fire. Want some?"

The breeze picked up just then and by luck, by blessed luck, it gusted the flames toward the trolls.

"Fire!" one cried.

"Yeah, and you know what Frankenstein always said: 'Fire bad!'

This can't end badly at all!

quote:

XIII

The fire spread rapidly, too rapidly. But it made a wall of smoke and flame between me and the trolls. I moved away from the fire, away from the trolls, keeping the warm crystal in one hand, a fistful of dry grass in the other.
I could only hope the others were away from the fire.

"I want to go home," I said, half crying. "I'm going to be in Rent. I'm Mimi. I have friends and family and teachers, I am not part of this, I'm not David, some wanna-be hero, just let me out of this freak show."

Talking to no one. Just needing to talk, to hear the sound of my own voice, whispered and shaky as it was. The fire was loud now, crackling almost explosively as it swept back in the direction of the castle. I was heading for the woods. Had to get out of the field, that was for sure, some idiot set it on fire.

I laughed at that, a hysterical laugh. Some idiot burned up all the flour. Bye-bye, baguette.

I reached the trees, leaned against one, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Then I felt the rock fingers close around my wrist. The troll stepped from behind the tree. There were half a dozen more.

"Is that the witch?" one asked.

The one who held me leaned close and sniffed at me. "Not the witch. This one has red hair."

"Great Loki say, 'Bring me the witch.' This is not the witch."

"No," another agreed.

What must have been the leader swaggered up, full of his own importance. "This one for us."

He pushed my captor aside and grabbed me around the waist. "Mine," he said, I hit him. I might as well have punched a bank building. He slapped me an openhanded blow that exploded lights and stars and fireworks all
around me.

My vision cleared only slowly. My eyes were still swimming in sparks when I saw the lance enter the troll's right eye. It appeared over my shoulder, a spear, white wood, point planted in the troll's brain.

His horrible head began to turn to solid stone, all life, even all mockery of life draining away.

I pushed back. The arms, stiffening swiftly, moved only enough to allow me to slip down to the ground, then roll away.

The other trolls yelled and attacked. I was yelling, too, out of control, yelling, screaming, just screaming because I was face-to-face with horror and there was no rational response.

Galahad swung his sword. A troll's head dropped like a boulder. Another was cut in half. A third, pictured. Four of the seven dead within seconds.

Impossible speed. Impossible accuracy. The sword did not miss, did not miss by a millimeter. Every movement liquid, economical, so practiced, so easy it could have been choreographed. The remaining trolls ran.

Galahad reined his horse and swept down from his saddle. He half lifted me into a classic historical-romance bodice-ripping pose, ruined only by the fact that I was bleeding, bruised, and sobbing.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," I managed. "I'm all right."

He smiled. "You roasted several trolls back in the wheat field. As a rule fair maidens remain helpless until properly rescued."

"I... I'm sorry. I'm not from around here.�

"Mmm. It's a refreshing change. I've rescued many maidens. Never a troll-killer."

"The others. Are they... and Loki?"

"Your friends, and the witch, are all together. We are all together, I should say, including Magnificent Merlin. All together and fleeing. Loki has my castle, and we must make do as well as we may under the circumstances. I believe I know the place where Merlin will lead the others."

"Oh. Look, I can walk now," I said. "We should hurry. Let's get out of here."

"Ah, but you must ride," he said. "I can accept a fair maiden who kills trolls, but I cannot allow a fair maiden to refuse to share my saddle."

Galahad stood up as effortlessly as if I weighed ounces rather than pounds and swung himself and me up onto his horse. I have never been so grateful to another human being in my life.

I swallowed and blinked away tears of relief. And some strange, still-functioning comer of my mind thought, "Share my saddle?" That's one not even Magda has ever heard.

Galahad saves the day again, he is the perfect knight, isn't he?

# ? Aug 18, 2023 23:45

Aston: Nov 19, 2007; Okay
Okay
Okay
Okay
Okay

And no doubt perfect he will remain

# ? Aug 19, 2023 00:29

freebooter: Jul 7, 2009

I wonder where Lancelot's at. I know Galahad and Lancelot are the most famous one but I vaguely thought Galahad was one of the more junior knights, not a leader?

Also Loki's plan interestingly ups the stakes of the series. The whole time now the kids have been sucked into this horrible adventure, and the only impact it has on their "real" lives is the trauma. It doesn't have that immediate hook of having to save the world that gets thrust upon the Animorphs, and if anything makes what's happening to them in Everworld feel less relevant because they half-suspect if they die they might just snap back to the normal world. But if the gods successfully return to our side, that's presumably bad news for Ordinary '90s America, and so it actually jeopardises their real lives and the lives of everyone they care about.

# ? Aug 19, 2023 02:42

Yadoppsi: May 10, 2009

Lancelot was a French addition from centuries later, maybe he won't show up at all? Since I think readers of this thread would appreciate it I looked up what sources we have for the 'historical' Arthur and these slim picking are it:

A 6th-century monk named Gildas mentions

quote:

After a time, when the cruel plunderers had gone home, God gave strength to the survivors. Wretched people fled to them from all directions, as eagerly as bees to the beehive when a storm threatens, and begged whole-heartedly, 'burdening heaven with unnumbered prayers', that they should not be altogether destroyed. Their leader was Ambrosius Aurelianus, a gentleman who, perhaps alone of the Romans, had survived the shock of this notable storm: certainly his parents, who had worn the purple, were slain in it. His descendants in our day have become greatly inferior to their grandfather's excellence. Under him our people regained their strength, and challenged the victors to battle. The Lord assented, and the battle went their way.
26 From then on victory went now to our countrymen, now to their enemies: so that in this people the Lord could make trial (as he tends to) of his latter-day Israel to see whether it loves him or not. This lasted right up till the year of the siege of Badon Hill, pretty well the last defeat of the villains, and certainly not the least. That was the year of my birth; as I know, one month of the forty-fourth year since then has already passed,

No mention of Arthur by name but the 9th century, a Welsh monk who might have been named Nennius quoted an old document that listed 12 battles Arthur took part in of which Badon Hill was the greatest.

quote:

Then it was, that the magnanimous Arthur, with all the kings and military force of Britain, fought against the Saxons. And though there were many more noble than himself, yet he was twelve times chosen their commander, and was as often conqueror. The first battle in which he was engaged, was at the mouth of the river Gleni. The second, third, fourth, and fifth, were on another river, by the Britons called Duglas, in the region Linuis. The sixth, on the river Bassas. The seventh in the wood Celidon, which the Britons call Cat Coit Celidon. The eighth was near Gurnion castle, where Arthur bore the image of the Holy Virgin, mother of God, upon his shoulders, and through the power of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the holy Mary, put the Saxons to flight, and pursued them the whole day with great slaughter. The ninth was at the City of Legion, which is called Cair Lion. The tenth was on the banks of the river Trat Treuroit. The eleventh was on the mountain Breguoin, which we call Cat Bregion. The twelfth was a most severe contest, when Arthur penetrated to the hill of Badon. In this engagement, nine hundred and forty fell by his hand alone, no one but the Lord affording him assistance. In all these engagements the Britons were successful. For no strength can avail against the will of the Almighty.

There are also the �Annales Cambriae�, or �Annals of Wales,� with this short line

quote:

Year 72 (c. AD 516) The Battle of Badon, in which Arthur carried the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ on his shoulders for three days and three nights and the Britons were victors.
Year 93 (c. 537) The Strife of Camlann in which Arthur and Mordred fell and there was death [i.e., plague -ed.] in Britain and in Ireland.

Finally an incomplete Welsh poem Y Goddoddin, it could date from the early 600�s AD to as late as the 11th century. Describing a warrior named �Gwawrddur� it says.

quote:

He fed black ravens on the rampart of a fortress
Though he was no Arthur

which means when it was written knowledge of Arthur as a pussient warrior would have been well known.

Thats it. No kingdom of all Briton, no round table, no holy grail, and no Druidic Merlin. Depending on how Nennius is translated Arthur may not have been the commander but just a particularly powerful warrior.

# ? Aug 19, 2023 04:52

kiminewt: Feb 1, 2022

Lets Read Everworld- The com wouldn't bum.

# ? Aug 19, 2023 09:14

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# ? Jun 8, 2024 08:06

bird food bathtub: Aug 9, 2003; College Slice

This last bit does answer why Arthur isn't the one running the show like the normal cultural legends would have someone expect. I still wanna know how the line between mortal/not mortal and dying works in this universe.

# ? Aug 19, 2023 13:40

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > Lets read Everworld-Show me the way to go home.

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