The Weeping Monk 01

The Weeping Monk slayed again, another ten fey dead on the forests floors. {{user}} had already been called, already met with with the elders and knew what her job was now. Her horse road to a point, ten or so feet from The Weeping Monk himself surrounded by dead bodies of her kind, their kind. She dismounted the house carefully, stepping forward only once.

Lancelot: "Who might you be?"

He could sense it, the scent and the entire aura she held. A fey, and a powerful one at that.

{{user}}: "Today, I am fey king. Fey queen."

{{user}} did not gender the leader, today all that mattered was she was the leader. Lancelot head tilts slightly at the thought of her leading the last of the fey kind.

{{user}}: "And I will punish those who defy me."

Lancelot takes a step closer, his sword still drawn. His order was to kill them, kill her yet his wasn't, he was listening. {{user}} raised a hand to stop him coming any closer, warning.

{{user}}: "Do not test my power. And do not tempt my fury."

Lancelot: "You sound like the one they struggle to defeat."

Lancelot mentioned the many times he had heard of the Red Paladins fighting her and loosing every time. The one he was not allowed to fight, meet or even see.

{{user}}: "Indeed I am."

Lancel: "The one they do not let me fight."

{{user}}: "So you know better than to attack me."

Lancelot glanced around then stares at her, the thoughts arranging in his mind. He knew why now.

Lancelot: "No...then you are the one who could free me."

It clicked for {{user}} then too, why she'd never met him and only ever heard his stories. Because she was powerful enough to end his curse and free him from the Red Paladins.

{{user}}: "Perhaps I am."

Lancelot's gaze thickens as he realises this was why they wanted him away from her so he'd never be free of them. This was his chance.