Pendragon Epilogue
After last session's events with the Spectre Knight, the party marches to Apperside Manor, in the woodsy guts of the Yorkshire Dales to deliver the Helmed Knight's marriage proposal to his beloved Lady Eleri.
Upon arrival, a bloodied squire informs them that the lady has been stolen away by Sir Neilyn. Sir Valerius and Dame Cynewynn chase the fiend's trail through the woods and find the two in a glade; Lady Eleri in tatters, the knight all bloody.
Sir Valerius jousts the man down mightily and ends up killing him with ease, to the rejoice of all.
Back in the manor, a feast is thrown in the knights' honour and the wedding is announced, but an objection is raised: has Lady Eleri been dishonoured by Sir Neilyn? She ardently denies it and says she will take any quest to prove it. Up north, near the Great Wall, lives a woman in a castle who owns a bed that only those with unsullied virtue may lie unharmed - but she demands an awful price.
Steely eyed, the lady agrees with this, and our party is enlisted to help her.
On the way they find a few marvels. Their friend, The Morholt, is around and says he's on a quest himself, and that he'll wait for them at Apperside when he finishes it up so he can hear their own quest. A headless horseman takes the soul of an old farmer. Strange wanderers in a mysterious pond invite our knights to dance with them, and Dame Cynewynn accepts, meeting the elf Shade-of-Winter-Betrayal and having her life changed forever, though she did not know this at the time.
A week later they arrive at Castle Carrok and meet the lady and her son. She is sickly and aged; he is young and as healthy as an ox. They expose the rules of the Bed: any virtuous lady who lays there and survives must donate one full bowl of her blood to the lady, this is how she maintains her son so hale and healthy.
The knights consider and debate this, trying to find ways around this conundrum. Eventually Sir Valerius gets on the nerves of the son, Sir Larras, who demands satisfaction. Valerius agrees and decides the duel shall be to the death, so that either he ends the evil custom of this castle, or dies a Chivalrous knight trying.
The both of them trade mighty blows. Sir Larras is bigger and stronger, much faster too, being able to attack twice in every round, but Valerius has luck or God on his side and manages to keep the fight very equal. That is until he is run through by the enemy - according to our Horrible Wounds table, he's a Dead Man Walking now and only gets 1 more round to act.
Valerius takes initiative.
Valerius lands the hit and deals just enough damage to reduce his health down to 0, thus also inflicting a deadly Horrible Wound on him.
The two knights run one another with their swords simultaneously and fall to the ground. One for love of his mother; the other, for love of Chivalry.
Lady Eleri sleeps upon the bed that night and proves her virtue, coming back to Apperside with the other 2 knights to tell the story. The Helmed Knight reveals his hideous face and his curse is lifted by a kiss of true love. And so the story ends.
Epilogues
Most of what is known about the later life of Sir Eogrim comes from a chronicle dictated by himself in his death bed, and among peasant slang and knightly military jargon, it tells the story of a man who was inspired by Chivalry after the loss of his cousin and of a close friend to change himself for the better.
In traditional Eogrim fashion, the wording is sparse and much had to be inferred by the chronicler, but the care that his family took to keep the story going speaks for itself. Eogrim never became a member of the Round Table, and in the songs he is never the hero of the story, but he's someone just as important: the relatable and reliable companion who was always there when he was needed.
Sir Valerius' family was set for life. His brother never returned from the quest to the Holy Land that Valerius sent him in, and so the secret of the parentage of "Valerius'" son went to the grave with both of them.
Ednowain himself grew up to be a mighty knight and a member of the Round Table, and in the songs he is often portrayed as being surrounded by people who loved him and his father; Sir Matthew of the former Castle Pleure, the Helmed Knight and his lady Eleri, King Eifion of Roestoc. The legend of the Straw-Bearded Knight who died for Chivalry was a courtly favourite for many years after that.
Dame Cynewynn had shared a kiss with the fairy Shade of Winter Betrayal, and her life slowly had never been the same. She adventured far and wide, to Ireland and Thule; she was with Arthur's army when Charlemagne attacked and gained great glory, but something beckoned her.
In one of her adventures she met the enchantress Morgaine, who by then had become the Fairy Queen, and she was never seen again in mortal lands. Some say she can be heard around the Tarn Wadling on midsummer nights, splashing in the water and laughing. Some say there is always another voice with her, and that it sounds like a pleasant warm day.
Lior returned to London a richer woman and a disappointed soul with the vision that had beckoned her so strongly to go under the world and come back empty handed of insights on the ineffable nature of her deity; though that is His nature.
The literature tells of how the famed woman-Rabbi of London went ahead to contribute to important discoveries, and even though her name has been mostly forgotten, you can still find it referenced in the texts of Maimonides and Gabirol, along with fantastical stories about how she could trap demons in bottles and be at two places at once. Some of the songs even tell of how she could plunge in the heart of oblivion, bringing comfort to those forgotten to all but herself.
The wind and the trees tell of how once, in these delves, a little shiny firefly came back unnoticed and followed an errant path songward to east of the sun and west of the moon, and found itself beyond the fields we know. There, it came to rest upon a water lily and dreamt that it was once a knight. When it woke up, it had become something else. Something bright and beautiful that dances over the water and sings of the inhabitants of a land consumed by emptiness in a tongue unknown even to the winds.
As to the rest of the world, it kept on going. Arthur turned alright in the end; it is what preyed on him, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that suffered the brunt of the weight of History.
The Morholt was one of its victims. Not many years later he was killed by a young upstart knight named Sir Tristan, as the champion of the Irish king in a duel to decide if the Irish slave tribute of Cornwall should continue. That same Tristan was met by an old Sir Matthew on the castle formerly known as Pleure, and was told how three young knights, years ago, had ended the evil custom of that same castle and saved his life and that of his beloved.
Those who might have heard of this great story would notice that Arthur never sired Mordred. The kingdom never devolved into that degree of civil war - despite having its ups and downs with Lancelot and the rest. When you read those stories, in his early reign you might catch a glimpse of our knights; discrete mentions of Elias and Sagramore cavorting in a banquet, Eogrim and Valerius on the corner during the Tale of the Green Knight. But those are old stories and you know how unreliable they are.
The May Babies were never sacrificed, he left the kingdom in the capable hands of his nephew Constantine, and magic kept on going in this strange new world. The Round Table did fall eventually, but magic never really went away. It never had to.
The fact of the matter is that Arthur went away to the Isle of the Dead along with most of his court peacefully. And there they all lived happily ever after.
Somewhere in the deep and dark recesses forgotten by man and fairy, a pair of smouldering eyes like dying suns peered out of a mind as old as time. After years of intense concentration, a little finger moved itself so slightly as to be imperceptible. In his mind, the Young Sun smiled.
