Scene #7361:

Owner	Pose
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	<B-anter> Bercilak says, "Gawain! Wher is my wif?" <B-anter> Gawain says, "Hm? The one from my world?" <B-anter> Bercilak says, "Nay, from mine." <B-anter> Bercilak says, "Alredy hath I asked the Gawain of Rubi-ka. Saith he, 'Hou-gates shouldst we aknoue?' Afte, I bemet with Morgana, who bisaied much the ilk same, al be that with mo swering." <B-anter> Gawain says, "Well, I put the thought in your mind, so it's only fair that I offer my aid searching, if you seek it." <B-anter> Bercilak says, "Ha! Gramercy thereof. Methinks oure hunte bicommenced in Avalon, whanne-so we both are able." Both knights are now able--and both shall now meet in Avalon. Not the Avalon that Gawain may have heard of; not a legendary island of apple trees where a mythic sword was forged. This Avalon, however, is a kind of island. It's a speck of green clinging stubbornly to life amidst a sea of barren dunes and rocky crags. Even those dunes and crags support life only because of the gigantic semi-permeable dome overlaid atop miles and miles of an otherwise lifeless planet. It is located in the far northwest of the planet's terraformed regions, under the control of the aptly-named Knights of Avalon. There is no warpgate which leads here, and only one of the planet's teleportation networks leads here--unless the traveler in question happens to be quite prodigious with computers. That network, known as the Whom-Pah system is named for the noise the towering, bulky booths make when breaking down, transferring and reassembling matter. The Avalon Whom-Pah deposits travelers safely inside of the city's seemingly anachronistic mottled grey brick walls. Traveling on foot, by vehicle or on horseback is also possible, but pits travelers against the planet's wildlife--chitinous four-legged predators which leap like grasshopers from dune to dune, distant relatives of Earth's hyenas, the occasional outlaw, and, bizarrely, what can only be described as 'pixies,' little humanoid winged terrors that seem to delight in disorienting wayward travelers to lure them into danger. No matter which way Gawain takes, his attention will no doubt be drawn to Camelot, the castle which lies, surrounded by walls and a moat of honest-to-god lava, in the center of the seeming oasis. Its construction is of the same mottled brown-gray bricks as everything else, resting atop rocky grey outcrop and towering above the surrounding village. Four curved spires rise up around it like the claws of a dragon, and a massive banner in red and black is draped over one side, depicting heraldry of exactly that--a dragon, in black relief against red backdrop. The windows, taken with the rest of the castle's make, seem to give it a distinctly Gothic appearance. In other words, it's very clear that people in 29478 have forgotten a lot about what humanity's structures looked like in the far, far past--but they definitely haven't left behind the human spark for the flamboyant. Patrolling the town, intermingled with townspeople about their daily lives, are guards in drab but functional rust-red plated armor, in all shapes and sizes, most bearing futuristic weaponry like assault rifles or grenade launchers, many of which seem all the more imposing for their frankly absurd size. Speaking of absurd size, it's not hard to spot Bercilak. He's big, for a 'Solitus--' his word for 'most related to the humans you're familiar with.' Standing as tall and as bulky as he does, it'd be hard to miss him even if he weren't in vibrant green armor, or mantled with a cloak of those grass and wildflower species hardy enough to survive the winter.
Gawain	Gawain rode his motorcycle here, fitted for off-road, so that he could see more of Rubi-Ka. What that led to was getting ambushed a few times, nearly lost by pixies, and the eventual gain of spending cash to buy some food once he was in Avalon. Pulling up to a stop, looking entirely unharmed and undamaged, dressed in a winter coat and without a weapon, one might wonder how the blonde prettyboy got all the way here. But, the fact that he immediately approaches Bercilak might be a sign that he's not a normal man. "Sir Bercilak! It is a pleasure to meet you in person. You certainly fit the picture. Sir Gawain, Knight of the Sun, Warden of the Paladins. Have you eaten, or would you like to start the hunt immediately?" The sun knight doesn't seem to mind either way. He's just happy to be here.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	Bercilak turns, his back formerly to the Sun Knight. His helmet dissolves, eaten away into air by a slowly spreading ripple of blue light. It reveals, as Gawain might have expected, a man with green skin, eyes as red as a charging boar's, and a beard so green and thick that 'bushy' is the perfect word for it. What he might not have expected is the man's rather futuristic punk hairstyle; a mohawk which falls to one side of his other wise buzzed head. He is grinning widely. "So here at last be the Gawain of bipast Earth," he says, offering a hand that could cover entirely the faces of most citizens in this town. He shakes firmly, his gauntleted hand an affair of space-age alloyed plates affixed to tough but supple synthetic fibers, as is the rest of his armor. Save, that is, for a massive, gently humming breastplate worn over the rest of that armor, as if it somehow weren't enough. "Let us iete and make sporte in one stroke, sir knight." That likely fits the picture all the more--this Green Knight seems to love hunting as did his long-ago inspiration. "Loten in a crater scarce a mile west-awei, espy the hammerhead," says Bercilak, pointing off in that direction. He beckons for Gawain to follow him outside the city walls. "We shalt conveien forth on oure coursers, and the last man ther-awei shalt do the coking. If thou art wepenles, seke the ilk-same from Sir Lamorak withinne Camelot, and bisaien to he that 'twas I who sent thee." Whether Gawain does or doesn't need one, Bercilak is, as he might imagine, set on making a little contest today--the moment he's outside the town's walls, he's called forth his own bike. It's a hoverbike, and by its brutalist shapes, one can assume it was designed with intent for battle. Heavy armor rests atop it, thick plates meant to withstand a beathing, angled to deflect such beatings away from the rider. It is a darker shade of green than his armor, in places the paint is worn slightly by the planet's abundant supply of paint. For the most part, however, the motifs of hounds in pursuit of alien beasts of prey are intact. The race begins--even if Gawain isn't about the idea. Bercilak is.
Gawain	As Gawain listens to Bercilak, parsing his words into English into Welsh, he nods for a moment as he follows along outside the walls, and then basically goes 'nani?!' but in Welsh. "I have a sword!" Gawain shouts, visibly unarmed, as he leaps onto his motorcycle and starts driving west. It's a race for dinner? Well, Gawain thinks he's a pretty good cook (he's not) so it doesn't matter if he loses, but it's a challenge. The knight extends his hearing as he rides out, trying to pick up the sounds of hammerheads and hunt them down. He's hoping to drift his bike a few times with expert skills to get around dunes and dangers, and get straight towards the finish line, but he's not as good a rider as Bercilak is. "Do you challenge everyone as soon as you meet them?!" He calls out once he's in range.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	Bercilak isn't a good cook either. He is, however, quite good on a bike. Does he challenge everyone as soon as he meets them? The Green Knight ponders the question as he aggressively takes a dune head-on to regain the lead, thrusters sending a spray of sand out like the wash of a boat in chase. "Nay," he responds as the front end of the vehicle sends another such plume up, making a hazard the Sun Knight will have to avoid. Gawain's sense of hearing picks up (besides the whine of Bercilak's thrusters) an intermingled number of sounds which seem to be rising up from away and below--while it's hard to tell which among them is the cry of their prey, that will likely be the crater he mentioned. "Thou art a case especial!" Of course he's going to give a Knight of the Round the business. That comes with the territory! The finish line is in sight, and Bercilak has a slight lead, but the towering figure isn't the only obstacle, nor are the rocky crags which jut treacherously from the earth. The wildlife here is nothing short of brazen in its predations on the unwary. Bercilak's lead is threatened when two of those brown, chitinous desert insects, each the size of feral wolves, leap onto his bike, shaking it off course. He corrects his course admirably as their fangs fail to penetrate the armor of his gauntlets. But they won't be denied. One makes use of its powerful legs to leap across the vehicle's frame and tackle him, uprooting him from his seat at speed and sending him tumbling, laughing raucously, through the sand. Does Gawain seize the advantage, or stop and help?
Gawain	"I see!" Gawain replies, as he rides towards the crater. However, as he is dodging around the rocky crags, a giant insect knocks Bercilak off his bike. Victory is so close, yet... It wouldn't feel right, even if Bercilak's fine. It's not a race if only one person is racing. Gawain turns his bike around, and moves to charge straight into one of the insects. His sword comes out, and moves to slash it off of Bercilak, weaving to not hit him with the bike, as it moves to a stop. Gawain outstretches his hand. "Get up! We still have a race, right?" A bright smile. This isn't his Bercilak, but Bercilak was a friend. So, he assumes, will be this one.
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	Gawain's bike crashes into the insect and sends it flying with a screech. That one takes off, evidently realizing that it's bit off more than it can chew, leaving its fellow to fight the two knights alone. "The bestes 'pon Rubi-ka be most spirited in thire savageri!" The Green Knight stands taking Gawain's arm and crying out. "Behold! The scorpiod!" It hangs from one of his arms, its razor sharp pincers having finally found purchase beneath that tough synthetic weave, blood staining its dull brown chitin as it furiously attempts to rip him apart. He gives three short barks of laughter, asking, with clear endearment, "Are thei not pleasaunt?" With a roar of exultation, he tears it off as Gawain's sword causes its grip to falter. "BUT THEI ART MISTHINKEN!" As ichor oozes from the wound struck by the Sun Knight, the hapless desert insect is thrown like a discus, sailing and skipping across the desert surface to crash into its fleeing counterpart, sending them both tumbling downhill and out of sight. They do still have a race--and Gawain's statement of that fact draws a delighted grin. Bercilak gives Gawain a hearty clap on the shoulder, before marching back to the spot he was dismounted and climbing back astride his bike. It's true that he's the more skilled rider. Besides that, he seems to know the terrain well. The odds are stacked against Gawain, but a drift across a tightly packed dune just before one of those rocky outcroppings allows him to pull ahead at the last minute, the bike launching off of the solid rock and gaining enough airtime to land in a photo finish. Bercilak congratulates him with another hearty slap. "Glathe wouldst I be to coke; for thy conduct in oure sporte was most honorous." The crater is huge, and is home to, in equal part, a camp of nomadic Clan adventurers who seem to have banded together for survival out in the wastes. Tower shields and maces are as common a sight beneath and between the cobbled-together lean-tos and yurts. These adventurers carry, just as often, pistols and rifles, with armor just as varied on display; the light and flexible stuff of roguish types, heavy armor akin to Bercilak's, and sometimes even cloaks reminiscent of wise men. At the other end are the hammerheads, aggressive herd creatures with flat, cartilaginous heads, whose necks tower well above even the Green Knight. They are spirited and vicious beasts, and fighting one often means getting embroiled into a fight with others--but it's nothing the two knights can't handle. It's also quite a lot more meat than even the two of them can put away, and so it is that Bercilak suggests they share it with the clanners nearby. His cooking is 'functional' in that it gives a cooked and safe bit of food, but the Clan adventurers nearby seem to have a much better supply of, and relationship with, spices, as well as being better with a spit. Nevertheless, that's a hunt and some fun out of the way. So, the topic shifts to Bercilak's possibly non-existent wife. A lot of it is him asking everyone around the camp, even the gender-neutral Atrox, point-blank, if they are his wife. Needless to say, no bites there. What else can they try?
Gawain	As they kill the scorpion insect, Gawain helps slice it up, gets to the crater with Bercilak, and gives him a thumbs-up as he narrowly wins. "A knight is nothing without honor." As they share the meat with the adventurers, Gawain tells them some stories, and then, it comes to finding Bercilak's wife. None of these people are her! Sad. So, Gawain does the best thing he can do, and brings out a sketchpad. "Well, in my world, she was a beautiful woman with fair hair and fair skin. Allow me to sketch her out." He starts drawing, but then mid-way, erases her entire hairstyle and adds a mohawk, just like Bercilak's. "This is what I believe she'd look like on your world, if I had to guess!"
Rubi-Kan Vagrants	Bercilak takes the picture, looking at it. "Ah, per happes," he says hopefully. It is deconstructed in a matter of seconds, winnowing away into the air as his nanites store it in their memory. "Hit shall be noteful to us in oure inseking." Having a picture will indeed be of some help. A lot more than asking literal strangers if they're his wife. He's quiet, for a moment, thoughtful. "Whanne I bemet with Morgana to ofaxe her the ilk-same questioun, she saied: 'Never didst I dighten a wif for thee.'" So, at the very least, whoever it is would be someone that he knew from before Morgana 'made' him into what he is now. "That... shalt maken oure ihunte more hard," he admits, "Bicause I rememor my life bifore onli in peces-mele." In essence, this search is going to be helping an amnesiac find someone who may not even exist. However... "Bihowing, is hit not?" He grins widely, wiping an errant bit of hammerhead meat from his beard. It seems this Bercilak isn't one to back down from a challenge, either. He shows the picture around the camp, reconstructing it as needed from thin air. Surprisingly, there is a hit. "I knew of someone that looked like that," says a tall, thin woman with unnaturally pale skin, so much so that in places her veins are visible beneath. Her eyes glow a startling blue, and she looks... infirm, for lack of a better word, yet carries some sort of crystal rod along with a vibrantly red-orange tower shield with ease. Flanking her on either side are two... entities, spherical, with fleshy tendrils extening from their orb-shaped masses like the points of a star. They have no eyes, nor mouths, save an unsettling cavity set within their front-facing portions, from which there rumbles wet and breathy sounds akin to the breathing of some hidden jungle predator. They exude an otherworldliness not unlike the horse Gringolet. She explains further. "There's a lot of new shit that gets made on Rubi-ka. Because of the notum." She gestures vaguely around. In places, towers bore into the sandy earth, visible even from the sunken crater, extracting minerals from nodes buried deep within the planet's crust. "So, naturally, there's a lot of, you know, corporate espionage that happens, too." She pauses. "Is it... corporate when it's clan shit that gets stolen?" There is no response from her floating orb-monsters, and she shrugs. "Anyway. A few years back, I helped... distribute some blueprints for a suit that'd let nanomages--that's pasty, spindly-wristed fuckers like me--live off-planet. One of my contacts looked pretty similar to this girl, but I haven't been part of that game in a while." She looks one way, then the other, stepping closer to Gawain and Bercilak. "There's a cave," she whispers. "Southern Fouls Hills. If you know a Fixer they can use the F-Grid to get you right outside the place. Otherwise, you'll have to hoof it. There used to be a... shortcut, in Borealis--but I wouldn't try that right now. SOmeone kicked the billion-credit ant's nest over there." She taps the picture and hands it back to Bercilak. "If you wanna find ol' girl here, the smugglers' den is where I'd start."