[Introduction] "Only with me does your power avail you nothing."
He watches the Spear's flight, watches it whistle toward the rustic youth below in the garden beneath the castle wall. The blond boy stares up at him dazed; Klingsor anticipates the Spear striking home, burying itself up to the haft in his breast.
But instead, the boy's hand whips up and the haft of the Spear seems to plant itself in his grip.
This is not happening. Kundry had warned him of some prophecy revealed to Amfortas, that a fool made wise through compassion would reclaim the Spear and return it to the Grail Castle. But he had dismissed it as a mere hope on the part of the doughty Grailers. Who now, was the fool?
The youth raises the Spear and moves it in a slow, awkward but intent Sign of the Cross, moving it as Titurel had once moved the Grail Chalice. And at once Klingsor can feel his power falter within him. The resonating energies in the garden below and the stones of the castle cease to flow. He felt it before he heard it, the bass rumble in the stones at his feet, shaking, shivering apart. He turns to leap free of the wall but finds his feet coasting down on a slide of breaking stones. Kundry's wail of panic echoes in his ears as he feels himself drop into empty space, into darkness...
The roar of the crumbling castle walls has stopped. Instead, there is quiet and a carressing warmth on his face, though it does not seem to be a breeze. He opens his eyes, dazzled by the light beating down on his face, not the dim light of early morning, but the full brilliance of noon.
He had survived. He was alive, but as he gazes about him, he discovers that the ruins have vanished and around him are shrubs just breaking into leaf. Even the fallen stones of the derelict fort he had commandeered have disappeared. Has he lain here long enough that they had weathered and lay hidden under moss and detrius? No, once the spell had broken, the greenery would have given way to the scrub growth of the desert valley. But this looked well-tended. The shrubs and plants about him had started to awaken from their winter sleep.
This was not his valley; this was not his domain. Even the air does not smell or feel the same.
He sits up into a crouch, probing the ground thoughtfully. There is magic in this place, but it is not his. No, not his...
But this place, with its garden and its great house, is one where he can work his magic once again...
Name: Klingsor
Fandom: Arthuriana
Media: Opera/book
Typist: matrixrefugee
Other relevant info: So, Parsifal's semi-nemesis has arrived suddenly in the Mansion gardens. He's likely to be a bit more snappish than usual, but he's not likely to start slinging spells just yet, not till he's gotten his bearings. I'll be playing him as more of a Byronic villain/anti-hero cum cranky old guy than a real baddie: knights might want to tread carefully around him as he's got it in for anyone associated with the Grail Knights, even tangently. Other folk should be safe, albeit likely to get snarked at.
The first commenter acts as a welcoming committee. All following interactions are deemed later in the day, when the character is settled.
But instead, the boy's hand whips up and the haft of the Spear seems to plant itself in his grip.
This is not happening. Kundry had warned him of some prophecy revealed to Amfortas, that a fool made wise through compassion would reclaim the Spear and return it to the Grail Castle. But he had dismissed it as a mere hope on the part of the doughty Grailers. Who now, was the fool?
The youth raises the Spear and moves it in a slow, awkward but intent Sign of the Cross, moving it as Titurel had once moved the Grail Chalice. And at once Klingsor can feel his power falter within him. The resonating energies in the garden below and the stones of the castle cease to flow. He felt it before he heard it, the bass rumble in the stones at his feet, shaking, shivering apart. He turns to leap free of the wall but finds his feet coasting down on a slide of breaking stones. Kundry's wail of panic echoes in his ears as he feels himself drop into empty space, into darkness...
The roar of the crumbling castle walls has stopped. Instead, there is quiet and a carressing warmth on his face, though it does not seem to be a breeze. He opens his eyes, dazzled by the light beating down on his face, not the dim light of early morning, but the full brilliance of noon.
He had survived. He was alive, but as he gazes about him, he discovers that the ruins have vanished and around him are shrubs just breaking into leaf. Even the fallen stones of the derelict fort he had commandeered have disappeared. Has he lain here long enough that they had weathered and lay hidden under moss and detrius? No, once the spell had broken, the greenery would have given way to the scrub growth of the desert valley. But this looked well-tended. The shrubs and plants about him had started to awaken from their winter sleep.
This was not his valley; this was not his domain. Even the air does not smell or feel the same.
He sits up into a crouch, probing the ground thoughtfully. There is magic in this place, but it is not his. No, not his...
But this place, with its garden and its great house, is one where he can work his magic once again...
Name: Klingsor
Fandom: Arthuriana
Media: Opera/book
Typist: matrixrefugee
Other relevant info: So, Parsifal's semi-nemesis has arrived suddenly in the Mansion gardens. He's likely to be a bit more snappish than usual, but he's not likely to start slinging spells just yet, not till he's gotten his bearings. I'll be playing him as more of a Byronic villain/anti-hero cum cranky old guy than a real baddie: knights might want to tread carefully around him as he's got it in for anyone associated with the Grail Knights, even tangently. Other folk should be safe, albeit likely to get snarked at.
The first commenter acts as a welcoming committee. All following interactions are deemed later in the day, when the character is settled.