Personally, I think this course of events presents a unique opportunity to direct a character who has suffered a sudden and unexpected betrayal. I look forward to it. Of course, while I can't think of any ways this would conflict with your design of Ignatius, I would respect your decision either way.
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@Gowi
I don't think it's just that he's fantastically corrupt. With Arthur dead, and no heir (unless Mordred rears his head), the realm was bound to break apart, unmaking everything g that Arthur, Lancelot, and the rest of the Knights of the Round Table fought for. So, the murder plot was conceived to kill off everyone who would have played a role in the eventual civil war, ensuring the realm's stability, at least in theory.
It is vile betrayal, but done to pursue a greater good.
I don't think it's just that he's fantastically corrupt. With Arthur dead, and no heir (unless Mordred rears his head), the realm was bound to break apart, unmaking everything g that Arthur, Lancelot, and the rest of the Knights of the Round Table fought for. So, the murder plot was conceived to kill off everyone who would have played a role in the eventual civil war, ensuring the realm's stability, at least in theory.
It is vile betrayal, but done to pursue a greater good.
@Gowi
Quite simple really. With the King dead and no royal heir, this has just become a game of every man for himself! Lancelot is just making a play to take out as much of the competition as possible before the civil war starts... Which in all honesty wasn't a bad move on the part of the dishonorable, crazed zealot.
Now, friend, let's be fair. The treacherous bastard could be acting out of a desire to keep bloodshed to a minimum in the inevitable civil war.
Well shit.
Finally got my post up. That bit at the end there is Sparla grappling to pick up on Gussie's magic. She hasn't really had a lot of exposure to magic off the battlefield, so I reckon she won't able to place it at first. I'm sure that'll come, though.
Sparla chuckled softly to herself. Demand? My, my, this one's got some fire in her. She turned back to the war room's central table, before which she stood. Her eyes danced across the assembled Chosen, there faces and names well known to her, even if they weren't exactly close.
"If we stay in this castle," she began speaking, abruptly, "we'll die. The Tuskers aren't trained to hold a place like this during a siege. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who'd be of any use, and I can't kill a whole damned army on my own." Her magic was an incredibly versatile weapon, after all, and could kill just as effectively from the top of a wall as in the thick of battle—perhaps even more so.
She drummed the fingers of one hand against the table, while placing the other flat and shifting her weight onto it. "Shouldn't these bunnies have a map of the land around this place? We could probably find a defensible position that won't turn into a trap." As she spoke, her words grew distant, her attention, if not her gaze, shifting away from the table.
There was something, something... off. Not a detail, not an event, not exactly. There was just something in the room, prickling at the edge of her... sight? Hearing? It was hard to say. It was familiar, yet strange. It was important, but certainly actually almost distinctly irrelevant to anything at all. Then, she had it–
It was no good. Maybe one of the other's would say something about it.
"If we stay in this castle," she began speaking, abruptly, "we'll die. The Tuskers aren't trained to hold a place like this during a siege. Hell, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who'd be of any use, and I can't kill a whole damned army on my own." Her magic was an incredibly versatile weapon, after all, and could kill just as effectively from the top of a wall as in the thick of battle—perhaps even more so.
She drummed the fingers of one hand against the table, while placing the other flat and shifting her weight onto it. "Shouldn't these bunnies have a map of the land around this place? We could probably find a defensible position that won't turn into a trap." As she spoke, her words grew distant, her attention, if not her gaze, shifting away from the table.
There was something, something... off. Not a detail, not an event, not exactly. There was just something in the room, prickling at the edge of her... sight? Hearing? It was hard to say. It was familiar, yet strange. It was important, but certainly actually almost distinctly irrelevant to anything at all. Then, she had it–
It was no good. Maybe one of the other's would say something about it.
And lo, the meme was not.
You have my sword.
So... just to be clear, Gussie's in the war room with the Chosen? Or in some other room, taking tea with Eye-Drinker?
Aaaaaand it's up. I might have liked to spend a little longer on it, but the hour is late, and I need sleep.
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