Karla gets bored rather easily, these days, and restive Karlas are dangerous Karlas. Sort of.

Since nobody eats food left out anymore, that makes things a little more challenging. That's all right! Challenging is good! Karla likes a good challenge. Hence, this morning denizens of the Mansion might find themselves victim of a particular kind of fun ( Read more... )

He rides in on a horse that looks like it's seen better days, in worn and bloody gear, and the first words out of his mouth are "Jesus be damned." Turns out these words are addressed to the horse, because he follows it up by leaning along her neck and adding, "Of all the places to bring me, you Satan-bred animal. Where the hell is it?"

Then he ( Read more... )

Having recently heard the news (not such very new news, but it takes a while for things to get through to this knight, sometimes) regarding the Plothole's strike, Sir Agravain now (now being an early May morning, early enough in the day that his steps form a visible path through the sparkling, dew-laden grass behind him) comes stumping up to the ( Read more... )

She is suddenly in the main room, as if she has been there for a long time. Perhaps she has. She is neither strikingly beautiful nor plain, but rather a woman who was likely once beautiful, some years ago. Now she just looks tired and impatient and says, "Whatever it is this time, at least it's new."

Typist: As requested... it's Laurel, the ( Read more... )

Enters a young lady in a long black gown to match her long black hair. Her skin is pale, as though she doesn't see the sun much. She is quite pretty.

She sweeps forward, bringing with her a scent of lilies and formaldehyde.

"Well, that took long enough. Has anyone seen Sir Lancelot?"

[Hellawes the Sorceress, from Le Morte d'Arthur. She, uh ( Read more... )

He walks in as though he's just come up from the cottage, instead of back from the dead. He looks just as always, except that the recent marks of stress have evaporated (two weeks' rest, however unexpected, have done him good) and that he now, like his brothers and his friend, has a sword belted on. "All right," he says crossly to no one in ( Read more... )

She stands uncertainly in the doorway: tall, fair-haired, elegant in rose-coloured brocade. Her face is sweet, and yet there's something about the set of her mouth, something wry and hard. She does not announce herself -- granted, she's not accustomed to having to do so -- but stands there quietly watching.

Lady Lyonors, a.k.a. Lyonesse, sister ( Read more... )

Enter an armed knight. Tall, swaggering, missing his left hand...to many residents of the mansion, he will be a familiar sight. Indeed, it is the long-absent Sir Bedivere Bedrydant, noted for his wisdom, swordsmanship, lechery, and ability to drink everyone under the table. Unfortunately, in his time away, he's had more than a few run-ins with ( Read more... )

She returns not in the middle of a storm -- that would be far too obvious, and too inconvenient -- but instead on a still night, with a prickle of electricity in the air and a low growl of thunder on the horizon. No flinging wide of the door: she enters briskly but quietly, a smallish woman just on the right side of middle age, or so it seems, ( Read more... )

If one looks into the gardens this time of day, one may see a woman there. She's only just a woman, come twenty years, and has a loveliness that is granted her by her youth: when she becomes older, she will no longer be so fair to look at. Someday she may not be fair at all ( Read more... )