[b]Tristan[/b]

Although you focus, what you see is a broader perspective. Looking closely at Pellinore, you can see that she is not...made of herself. Those are the words your mind would give you, that Pellinore is not made of herself. It is like a vast string stretches from Uther's throne in Camelot to entwine her and from her stretches out to the Questing Beast, lurking in a dell not so far from the village as you might have thought. There may once have been humanity in Pellinore, but it is not what constitutes her. Instead she is wrapped all about with the destiny and the darkness that comes from Uther Pendragon and manifests in the sickness and chaos in the land. Whatever humanity there was in her has been pressed down and down, then wrapped up with a monstrous destiny so tightly that you cannot see it. 

And then, a blade falls and, for a brief instant, everything goes dark before you disentangle your senses and find yourself back on your roof.

[b]Everyone[/b]

The blade falls with the weight of a mountain, lodging itself in King Pellinore's neck and biting into her back. Her body crumples and collapses, carrying the sword with it. 

The last of the earthquake subsides and there is stillness and the settling of dust. Mort, the young knight in Pellinore's retinue, stands with mouth agape behind Constance, stunned by the scene. The folk of Southaven were already cleared out far away and none dare approach now. The knights returning from their panic pull up short when they come upon the scene. 

Then, unnaturally, a ghostly aura of sickly green surrounds the corpse of King Pellinore. It stirs and rises inhumanly, the skin fading and blurring with the dry dirt and grass. Her head and neck dangle at a forward angle, barely attached to her body at all. The motion tilts the sword upwards and half translucent blood gently flows down her back from the wound before she cradles her own head in her right arm.

The ghost turns first to Constance and makes just the slightest bow, an act of grotesquery as the head and arm dip almost upside down. Then it turns to Robena and a voice somehow croaks out from that cut throat. 

"The judgment of the Lady Constance is accepted. As recompense in a year and a day, your blow will be answered in kind."

The doom pronounced, the ghost steps past Constance and Mort, mounting Mort's horse, which seems to fade and blur as the ghost claims it. It goes to ride from town, but as it moves away, body and horse alike fade and blur with the distant forest until there is nothing left to be seen of the dead King Pellinore.