Camelot Resurgent

by Galen Wolf

  Bernard says, ‘We lost some. Maybe half. But don‘t worry, we still have enough stuff to put vorpal on the Knights’ Weapons. Maybe another regiment after that.’ Bernard’s face looks sombre. ‘Not more.’

  I sigh.

  Bernard continues. ‘I thought we only had ten halflings left, but I must have miscounted because we have eleven now.’

  ‘It was stressful, uncle,’ Tye says. ‘You can’t be expected to count straight when you’re stressed.’

  Bernard just looks at him. I say, ‘Never mind. At least we’ve got eleven loads of shit.’

  34

  Single Combat

  We unload the poo-poo from the halflings’ knapsacks. One of them, a balding one with a gut, says, ‘I’m glad to be relieved of that stinky load.’

  Josh Maggs-Rimmer shoots him a glance for being so indelicate in the boss's presence but I tell them it’s okay. I understand. I’m just glad to be here in the smithy.

  The place is hot. It glows orange from the forge that one of the halflings has pumped up with the bellows I still don’t feel much like laughing. The defeat of all I love in this game is just too close. Anyway, the regular smith has left us to it. We have a crafting station nearby. I clear my throat. ‘Let’s get going.’

  We have a workbench with eleven heaps of shit on it. It’s still steaming, but I guess that’s just the normal graphic effect. I nod to Tye. ‘Unglamour this shit, please.’

  He does. and then we have five heaps of smoky crystals and six heaps of shit. We do the preparatory work and I place Excalibur in the crafting station. I hold my breath. What if I mess up the King’s legendary sword? Once the crystals and Jabberwock poop are in their slots in the crafting part of my HUD, I hit . There is a grinding noise and my heart’s in my throat until I see:

 

  Bernard claps me on the back. ‘Hey, Gorrow, man. We did it! We added vorpal to the King’s Sword. He will be mighty pleased.’

  I nod. I even smile. Well, well. We did it.

  I get Fitheach to take the sword to the King. I ask him to call Lancelot down next.

  Sir Lancelot comes down the stone stairs with Fitheach, entering the forge and greeting us all. ‘Glad you’re here, Gorrow — with our without vorpal swords.’ He hands over his sword Secace. I see it’s a regular longsword that’s got Star Silver on it against lycanthropes already and the Gashing feature that does extra damage against enemies that bleed.

  I put vorpal on it for him and he takes Secace back, thanking me profusely. Still looking at the gleaming blade, he says, ‘We shall make a fine end of it.’

  Finally, almost dropping out of character, he says, ‘If we lose, I’m gonna quit the game, I think. Was thinking of a change, maybe Darkworlds or The Greenwood. See you there?’

  Fitheach sets his face. ‘We will not lose, Sir Lancelot.’

  Lancelot gives a sad smile and bows. ‘For honour and the King!’

  Next down is Gawain. He gets me to put vorpal on that mean axe. As he leaves, he winks, ‘Don’t be late to the fight, Gorrow. We need you!’

  ‘I won’t be. If it happens before we’re finished here, let me know and I’ll come running.’ He grins.

  As he leaves, I call after him, ‘Send Galahad down,will you?’

  Galahad comes with his sword, The Sword of Adventure. It’s got Ghost Touch for incorporeal enemies and Demon Slayer, like mine. It also has Brilliance which blinds enemies on a critical hit. He sees me examining the stats. ‘Dumb name for a sword, but it works for killing, so that’s all I need.’

  Next, we have Parsifal who has The Sword of the Red Hilt with an increased critical range, which should be mighty handy and best of all a 2% chance of Paralysis of all enemies. He’s the most upbeat of all. He takes his sword back. ‘The King’s about to go and fight Satanus. Merlin’s trying to get him to wait, but Satanus is outside, just hanging there. He’s taunting him, telling everyone the King’s a coward.’ Parsifal frowns. ‘Arthur’s no coward. He’s the bravest of all of us.’

  Bedwyr brings the oddly named Sword of the Strange Hangings. He shrugs. ‘I don’t know who named this. I got it off Galahad when he got his new one. It’s got Limb Chopper on it, so a 20% chance of slowing enemy movement by half. That’s neat.’

  After that, come Ector, Kay, Bors, Tristram, Lamorak, Gareth, Dagonet, the lot. All but Mercurius and Luc. I ask Dagonet where they are after I’ve put vorpal on his sword. He shrugs. ‘Dunno. Word was they were in an engagement outside the walls.’ He wipes his eyes. Dagonet’s been fighting constantly for game days and he looks really beat. He says, ‘I guess they’re dead. But they’ll be back, though maybe only when Caer is a smoking ruin.’

  When we’re done with the player character knights, we get the most important NPCs down. This is Arthur’s bodyguard regiment Defenders of Camelot. There are five hundred of them and when I’m done with that, I’m falling asleep and I have to log off.

  I grab a few hours real world sleep, then I’m back in Camelot. None of my guys are on, there are more soldiers to vorpal up, though we’ve finished the Defenders of Camelot. I think the next regiment is a cavalry regiment called The Lifeguards. But I need to know what’s happening. I still don’t know my way around the castle, so I need to ask a squire I don’t know who takes me up to the Throne Room. The guards part to let me by. I’m famous because I’ve just put the vorpal effect on their weapons, and I walk into a drama.

  The King stands there by the throne in his blood-red armour. Merlin is arguing with him. ‘Just wait, Arthur. A little while longer.’

  It exasperates Arthur. ‘Wait for what? What more aid will we get?’

  Merlin says, ‘Gorrow can put vorpal on more troops. That’ll help.’

  The King drops his head and says, ‘Yes, that will help, but the players’ morale is dropping. If they think we will lose, they won’t fight. They might not even log on to a battle where they think they’re going to get their arses whipped. I have to show leadership.’

  Merlin says, ‘Arthur, you’ve always shown leadership. You are our leader.’

  Lancelot and Gawain stand nearby. ‘He’s right, sire. Just wait. Gorrow is making good progress...’ Lancelot looks up and sees I’ve come in. Gawain looks too, but the King doesn’t see me. He says, ‘Gorrow’s doing a great job. But it might not be enough.’

  The Knights of the Round Table seem to have split into two groups; those wanting to fight, and those wanting to wait. Parsifal clears his throat. ‘I say, fight him. With all respect to my brother knights, those of us who counsel the King should wait are really saying they think he can’t beat Satanus—’

  Lancelot flares angrily. ‘We are not saying that, Parsifal.’

  But Parsifal continues. ‘And if the King can’t win, we’re lost anyway.’

  Arthur stares at him for a long time, finally giving a cold laugh. ‘Parsifal is right. Satanus has challenged me to single combat. If I can’t beat him in single combat, we are finished.’

  Gawain says, ‘Arthur, just hang on for Gorrow. One more regiment. That’s all.’

  I don’t actually know if I’ve got the ingredients for one more regiment’s worth of vorpal.

  Arthur says, ‘I’m going up to the roof. Come if you want. Just as spectators though.’ As he turns, he sees me and laughs. ‘Gorrow! Just the man. Take a break from your labour and come and watch me kick Satanus’s butt.’

  I bow and all the knights plus Merlin and my little gang from Silver Drift file out onto the spiral stair that leads up from outside the Throne Room up to the roof. Nobody speaks. All we can hear is the sound of iron-shod feet climbing the stairs.

  When we get to the roof, the day is dismal. The sky is cloudy and spots of rain dot the flat stone roof. The roof is circular but wide. King Arthur stands in his blood red armour, his purple cloak with the arms of Logres moving in the slight breeze.

  I glance up. Satanus who is still in the form of a huge black dragon flaps hi
s wings above us. There are still some city eagles in the air, keeping off the enemy flyers. But the enemy are standing off, as if awaiting something.

  I scan down over the burned plain that stretches east to Tarvin, and further off to Alderley Edge that I can see as a small green hill way off. No sign of Mercurius or Luc though.

  Satanus’s voice is like an evil storm. He intones, ‘So the little King has come out to play. I thought you had lost your courage, Arthur.’

  Arthur cries back, ‘I am ready to fight you, Satanus. One on one. Here and now. Once and for all.’

  The dragon’s laugh echoes like thunder through the air and against the burning walls of Caer. ‘Really? Well, I’m ready. Should we start?’

  Arthur says quietly to his knights, ‘Just me and him. No one else. No healing, no nothing.’

  Gawain says, ‘You really think he’ll fight fair?’

  Arthur shakes his head. ‘Doesn’t matter. Honour is honour. We are the Knights of Logres, the Knights of the Round Table. Without honour we are nothing. So leave him to me.’

  We all nod.

  Thus it begins.

  Lancelot hands the King’s helmet to him. The helmet is of a red crystal with gold around the eyes and dotted holes that allow him to breathe. A red feather bobs as the King places the helmet on his head. When he has secured his helmet, Galahad gives him his shield, a large kite-shield in white with the Holy Cross in red emblazoned on it. Arthur takes the shield with a nod of thanks.

  ‘Ready, little man?’ Satanus booms down. He is huge. I have no idea how Arthur, mighty as he is can stand up to him. But Arthur is cool. He checks his gauntlets with studied patience. ‘In a minute, worm,’ he answers, not looking up.

  Arthur is finally ready. He draws Excalibur from its sheath and stands there, fully armoured in crimson, the feather tall and proud on his head. He draws in his shield and says, ‘Bring it.’

  Satan lets out a sky-splitting scream and I clap my ears to keep out the crazy echoes that seem to go on forever. I’m still reeling from this sonic attack when the great black dragon folds its wings and falls like a falcon at Arthur.

  The King brings up his shield, and the dragon smashes into him. Arthur must have some special abilities because despite the bulk of the monster, he stands firm. The dragon unleashes a torrent of bile from its foul fanged mouth. Arthur reels back and takes damage but plunges Excalibur into the monster’s foreleg. Satanus screams in pain but lashes at the King, scratching his shield with a sound like a nail on a steel door.

  Arthur jabs and slashes and Satanus bleeds dark green ichor that drips and steams like acid, burning into the sandstone floor of the open tower roof.

  But Satanus is far from beaten. His breath weapon must be on cool-down because he snaps his sinuous neck forward and his teeth bite into the king’s shoulder. The dragon is about five times bigger than the man, but the man is holding up well. Better than I expected when I first saw the size of Satanus hovering there in the sky.

  That must have been a crit, because the blow has cracked the King’s crimson crystal armour, and his blood seeps through. He drinks from a healing potion and counter attacks the beast. For a long time the fight goes back and forward. At one point the vile worm crushes the King to his knees and all the observers groan in horror. But Arthur stands again — painfully — damaged, but he stands and fights back.

  There’s a crack and a smell like gunpowder and an icon appears above Arthur’s head like a black cross on a fuzzy red background. I glance at Fitheach who looks like he’s going to cry. He says, ‘Cursed wound. He can’t heal until someone removes it.’ The saint firms up. ‘I can remove it.’ He looks like he’s going to cast a Remove Curse spell but I put a hand on his arm to hold him back. ‘We can’t, Fitheach. He said no.’

  ‘But if he can’t heal, he’ll die.’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘Stupid honour,’ Fitheach spits. ‘Stupid knights.’

  I scan around and see the other knights are looking very concerned at how things are going. The dragon is badly wounded, but it seems to have some self healing, whereas Arthur now can’t heal.

  ‘Will he save against the no healing curse?’ I ask.

  Fitheach shrugs. ‘Could do, but it’s a high save.’

  The King doesn’t save. Instead, the curse icon just floats there over him. I see him go for a healing potion but then spit it out.

  ‘It just won’t work,’ Fitheach says.

  This looks serious. But the King fights heroically even though he’s streaming with blood and his red armour is cracked. His shield is battered and even Excalibur is stained and dulled by Satanus’s acid blood.

  Satanus cracks Arthur with his foreleg and the King falls, spinning and losing his shield. He lies, dying on the floor. Satanus roars in triumph. He stands over the King, rearing up on his back legs, preparing to deal the death blow. But Arthur rolls onto his side and pulls himself to his feet, one hand on the ground to steady himself. The dragon still stands gloating over its inevitable victory, but unexpectedly, Arthur finds strength and with a scream of rage, plunges Excalibur into Satanus’s heart. I don’t know how many hit points Satanus had remaining, or whether Arthur critted, but King Arthur slays the evil dragon Satanus.

  The monster dies and its ghost emerges from its monstrous body, floating silently in the air for a second and then vanishing.

  The roar of triumph from the Knights is deafening. I join in, shouting out in joy. This could be it. This could be the turning point of the war.

  Bernard runs to the King with a healing potion. At first the King refuses, but then, as the duel is over, he takes the bottle and places it to his lips. But it doesn’t work. The King points to his head where the curse icon is still in place. ‘Damned curse,’ he says.

  The knights gather round the wounded King and carry him down the stone spiral staircase into the Throne Room. Fitheach goes up to heal the King, but there’s a noise from the corner.

  I look over, and at first I don’t understand what I’m seeing. One of the halflings has brought an object that’s about four foot high and covered in an old sheet. What’s the halfling doing here? Why’s he setting that thing down here?

  I recognise the object just as the halfling drops his disguise and changes into the rogue Deathknife. He yanks off the sheet and reveals the Hazidic Magic Mirror. The glass is dark and moves like it’s alive.

  Deathknife grins and says, ‘Surprise!’

  Then figures step out of the mirror. One after another dark armoured player characters. Deathknife has brought the Hazidic mirror inside the walls of Caer right into King Arthur’s Throne room, and through it, enter all of the Fangs of Koth.

  35

  Magic Mirrors

  The Fangs of Koth pour out of the mirror, and a laughing Deathknife fades into shadow, steps forward unseen by his victim, and Assassinates Sir Galahad.

  I draw my sword and call out a warning. The Knights of the Round Table spin round. There are now so many people in the Throne Room that it’s hard to fight. Gawain has his axe, and with a roar he whirls it down vertically. I see the blue spark and Hekate’s head goes rolling among the legs of her black-clad comrades.

  ‘Vorpal!’ Gawain yells in triumph. He’s lucky to get vorpal with the first strike, but it’s mayhem in there.

  Fitheach rushes forward to heal a stricken Sir Bors, who’s been skewered by Reza the Cruel, but in doing so, Fitheach leaves King Arthur in his weakened, unhealable state with the Cursed Wound icon still floating above his head. Wanting to enter the fight, Arthur sips at a potion but he wastes the draught with the curse still in place.

  Gawain goes for Maligon but Maligon blocks the axe, though his shield with its motif of a white skull on a midnight blue field, splits almost in two under the axe.

  Deathknife, still shadow-clad, knifes another knight and Sir Ector falls dead. I know little about Rogue skills, but the Assassinate skill must have a cool-down that means he just can’t kill and kill again.


  I go for him with my sword. His outline is faint, but I aim for where I think he is. With a curse, I miss as he dodges and disappears. I whirl round.

  Fitheach is healing Tye who took a necrotic bolt from Elizabeth Bathory but I shriek at him to Remove Curse from the King. Fitheach looks at me blinking, finally getting what I’m saying and he turns and steps over to the throne room.

  But it’s too late, Deathknife assassinates the cursed king and does what his master Satanus could not. I hear Deathknife scream his victory. ‘Yesssss!!!!’ and for a second all eyes turn and see King Arthur’s ghost.

  The King is bound here somewhere in Caer and will return soon without his curse, but my heart fills with rage. Lancelot goes for Deathknife as do I. Our swords pierce the evil Rogue simultaneously, but it’s me who receives the kill credit.

 

  It’s little comfort because the bad guys are swarming through the mirror. I see other guild insignia on their breasts. It’s not just the Fangs of Koth who are charging us now, it’s Blood for Satanus and Dead Souls guild members too. There are so many of them.

  Tye blasts them with a fireball and Bernard stands back to back with him chopping at them with his alchemical sword. Fitheach is doing his best to heal, but he’s the only healer in the room, the rest are knight types and Bernard and Tye.

  I can’t believe when Maligon kills Gawain. And Lancelot takes a blow from some big Death Knight I don’t know. He survives but staggers, calling out for healing. Fitheach is at his wits’ end; he simply can’t heal everyone.

  ernard kills Elizabeth Bathory, he always hated her anyway, and I engage Gearhart the Brigand. There’s no love lost between us and he doesn’t even bother to taunt me. Single-minded, I concentrate on the fight. But he’s better than he was and I struggle to get through his defences. He cuts me, but mostly I fend him off and the fight goes on far longer than I want it to.