Post by Gareth on Apr 4, 2016 0:34:18 GMT
At one moment, the youthful knight finally had what he'd been wanting since his arrival at Chaldea. Arms in hand and beating his chest he charged against an enemy attack, the waters around his feet and legs pushing him back as the torrent threatened to overtake him, Gareth prepared to leap ahead and somehow aim a strike at the heart of the King of Atlantis. Yes, yes! He would either take down a villain of a monarch, or die trying! The death he had desired so vividly in life was so close to his reach, his heart raced as -
As his sight grew dizzy, his weapons were gone and he fell dry as cooked pork onto the cold floor of the interior hallway.
On the next moment, he was inside, with a doll mocking the appearance of his would-be foe in front of him, looking as lost as a lamb as emerald eyes shifted about trying to find some rhyme or reason to his sudden dislocation and the denial of his duel. And much to his surprise, it stood there just that, very much the most reasonable explanation for such a phenomena.
He'd only seen Merlin once, and that was a child, but the image was hard to get off his mind. His very aura evoked a sense of trickery, a weird nagging feeling that his presence wasn't just right, something other magi wouldn't bring about as easily. The wizard who crafted Albion from the very first brick, even as a young boy he had found him eccentric beyond understanding, yet fascinating at the same time. Years later, in his year serving the Round Table, he'd have much the same impression when he once met the Lady of the Lake during one of his quests, in an encounter just as brief as with the one that had trained his King.
She wasn't as weird, though, and women tended to be more pleasing to the eye.
"Why did you displace me, wizard?" Gareth inquired in a tone that, whilst devoid of hostility, was much like a dog's bark. It only made him more uncomfortable Merlin seemed to speak to him as if they were close friends reuniting after an eternity apart, rather than two people who simply knew each other by sight. "You interrupted a duel between two warriors, agreed upon by both parties. As the man who raised King Arthur Pendragon, you should know better than anyone the dishonor inherent in such an act."
The terrible mood is back. Worse, perhaps.
"While it is a pleasure to see a familiar face," That statement had some truth to it. The knight struggled to get up, awkwardly shuffling inside his armor to get himself back on his feet. "I demand you explain yourself, Merlin."
As his sight grew dizzy, his weapons were gone and he fell dry as cooked pork onto the cold floor of the interior hallway.
On the next moment, he was inside, with a doll mocking the appearance of his would-be foe in front of him, looking as lost as a lamb as emerald eyes shifted about trying to find some rhyme or reason to his sudden dislocation and the denial of his duel. And much to his surprise, it stood there just that, very much the most reasonable explanation for such a phenomena.
He'd only seen Merlin once, and that was a child, but the image was hard to get off his mind. His very aura evoked a sense of trickery, a weird nagging feeling that his presence wasn't just right, something other magi wouldn't bring about as easily. The wizard who crafted Albion from the very first brick, even as a young boy he had found him eccentric beyond understanding, yet fascinating at the same time. Years later, in his year serving the Round Table, he'd have much the same impression when he once met the Lady of the Lake during one of his quests, in an encounter just as brief as with the one that had trained his King.
She wasn't as weird, though, and women tended to be more pleasing to the eye.
"Why did you displace me, wizard?" Gareth inquired in a tone that, whilst devoid of hostility, was much like a dog's bark. It only made him more uncomfortable Merlin seemed to speak to him as if they were close friends reuniting after an eternity apart, rather than two people who simply knew each other by sight. "You interrupted a duel between two warriors, agreed upon by both parties. As the man who raised King Arthur Pendragon, you should know better than anyone the dishonor inherent in such an act."
The terrible mood is back. Worse, perhaps.
"While it is a pleasure to see a familiar face," That statement had some truth to it. The knight struggled to get up, awkwardly shuffling inside his armor to get himself back on his feet. "I demand you explain yourself, Merlin."
