The Holy Grail (7 Nov 2001) Sir Lefallon continues his quest.

Sir Lefallon has braved many challenges so far. Blustery winds have tried to force him back. The walking dead and wild beasts have tried to tear him to pieces. Even mystical puzzles have faced him, with strange spirits in the wood presenting him with various tests -- for instance, the path in the road, where one spirit told only the truth, and one spirit told only lies, one path led to the Holy Grail, and the other to certain doom -- but Sir Lefallon was not told which was which. At times, it was uncertain whether Sir Lefallon could keep up with these numerous challenges, but so far, he has managed -- through sheer determination, bravery, pureness of heart (and dumb luck) managed to make it so far. He senses that he is close to his goal, for he has had another fleeting vision of an encouraging angel bearing the Grail ... but can he face the challenges yet remaining?

Haunted Forest
Ever since passing the sign that said "Beware Thee of the Walking Dead", and the laughing skull that was mounted on a pike, the forest has gotten less and less inviting. The path is so overgrown as to barely be followed at all, and brambles and barbs seem to lash out, ensnaring whatever happens into their grasp. Eyes glitter in the shadows, and unnatural cries can be heard in the distance. This is a dark, accursed place, steeped in ancient magic run wild.

Sir Lefallon looks gaunt in the foreboding light, such that manages to pierce the branches. "I would that I had the guidance of Lord Explorer Thomas in these wicked woods," he mourns. "Yet he would surely urge me to persevere, and so I shall strive to follow his advice." He places a hand over his sword-hilt for comfort's sake and presses on.

Up ahead, a figure in tatted clothing walks slowly along the path. The figure rambles to himself as he plods along the trail. Unfortunately, an unseen root happens to catch the poor man's foot and he stumbles forward. Through sheer luck, he's able to steady himself and he glances back at the offending root and scowls. After a brief moment of cursing out the plant, he continues onward down the path, slow and plodding as ever. In his wake, however, something lies on the ground near the root.

The young knight catches sight of the incident. Another traveler, perhaps one who knows the way through these woods! "Sir," he calls, hurrying forward, pausing to see what has fallen. "You've dropped something!"

The man doesn't seem to hear the shout. He continues onward down the path. At Simon's feet lays a small leather pouch, cinched shut.

Sir Lefallon bends to pick it up. "Sir! Slow down, allow me to return this!" he calls more urgently, then suits actions to words, hurrying after him.

The pouch jingles quietly in Simon's grasp as he hurries after the man. At last, the man turns around to see what all the commotion is about. His eyes grow wide and he raises up his fists. "Back, brigand. I have nothing for you," he says shakily, "I'm just going to the next town, where beggars are treated with more kindness. I've been mugged twice in the place I was last at. You'll have to kill me this time!"

There's an eerie sound in the woods, something like a giggle, but with an unearthly quality to it. Perhaps some mischievous ghost in the distance. Or perhaps just Sir Lefallon's imagination. There are, after all, so many distracting noises to be heard, that to give heed to them all would surely drive the poor knight mad.

"No, sir, I have something for you," Sir Lefallon insists, holding the bag up. "You dropped this, a little while back."

The beggar looks suspiciously at Simon. "How do I know you're not lying to me just to get close enough to slit my throat?" he inquires.

The knight considers this a moment. "Stay where you are, and I'll toss it to your feet," he suggests. "I seek only to return what are your rightful goods. Though if you have guidance for me to this next town, I would be grateful for your aid in finding my way through these woods, sir."

The man lowers his arms, but remains watching Simon warily. "Okay," he replies. "No tricks!"

Sir Lefallon heaves the bag toward the old man, aiming a little to the side so that if his throw proves too strong, it will not, ahem, murder the very one he tries to help.

The beggar watches the bag arc through the air and land with a soft thud next to his feet. Carefully, he kneels down and retrieves the pouch, his eyes never leaving the knight. He straightens back up and opens the pouch, emptying the contents into his palm. A few coppers, and a silver coin. He counts it out, then dumps it back into the pouch. After a moment to reaffix the bag to his belt, the man smiles a, well, rather toothless smile. "I must apologize, good sir. The woods are so full of brigands these days. They'll even swipe the meager coins from a beggar or cut off a traveler's fingers just to get his rings. Forgive me," he says, bowing slightly.

"There is nothing to forgive, sir," Sir Lefallon replies, nodding to the beggar. "You were willing to trust that I was not one of these brigands, and that is enough for me."

The beggar smiles weakly. "I'm afraid I cannot offer you anything in return. I do not know where these woods lead. Just that you should be wary; many spirits dwell here and try to steal the souls of young, foolish travelers." The beggar bows again stiffly, then turns and starts walking down the path.

Sir Lefallon nods. "Fare well then, traveler, and may fortune find you well." Apparently wherever the beggar goes then, is not on the other side of these woods. He contemplates the path again.

A hissing noise emits from the bushes, and a wind whistling through the trees sounds eerily like a whisper, though the words are frustratingly indistinct.

The beggar stops. "One more thing, kind sir," he says, "Do not stray from the path, though much may tempt you. Or you may find yourself forever lost, such that not even the great Explorer, Thomas, could find you." The beggar resumes walking and rambling again -- something about how short knights are these days.

The young knight shivers. Spirits, eh? He doesn't doubt that they are about. Wishing again for a good lantern, he nods to the beggar and then sets forth on the path, following it by the slender light that breaks through the trees.

As the knight continues along the path, a fog fills the air, and even though they are traveling the same road, Sir Lefallon soon loses sight of the beggar. Once again, he is quite alone, traveling the perilous woods ... though now that he has become more acclimated to it (and he hasn't been attacked by a wild beast or the shambling dead for quite some time now), its spookiness is somewhat less impressive.

Perhaps more of interest, though, is that, just to one side of the path -- a stone's throw away from the overgrown road -- there is a small clearing. A ray of sunlight shines down through a break in the trees, illuminating a small wooden chest lying half-hidden in the broken trunk of a tree that must have cracked from age. The chest, long ago hidden there, is now evident, and it has cracked open enough so that Sir Lefallon can see a glimpse of ... gold and jewels inside! There might be even more wealth to be found inside, if he were to take the chest up and open it up.

Sir Lefallon smiles a bit. "Let's hope this is a sign that the dread woods are almost done with," he says to himself. "It will be good to see the other side."

The young knight pauses as he espies the chest. "Some pirate's wealth buried long ago," he muses to himself. He considers the situation, then recalls the beggar's words. It may be nearby, but it is off the trail ... and there is no one nearby who seems to have lost such wealth, to whom it must be restored. With that resolution, he turns his face again and sets forward on the trail.

The journey through the wood is uneventful for a time longer ... and then the knight spies a crook in the road, which seems easy enough to follow. However, just off the path and framed by the bend is a boulder, in which is embedded a beautiful sword, untouched by rust or corrosion, with a gilded hilt imbedded with precious stones, and a grip wrapped in dragon scale. Runes inlaid with powdered mithril glitter in the sunlight, and the air is light with the sound of singing chimes.

This sword takes Sir Lefallon's attention. "What wonders could be wrought with such a weapon!" he murmurs, stopping to stare at it. He glances down at the path, wondering if it might somehow take him by this mighty weapon ... but the lap of grass tells him regrettably otherwise. He glances back down the trail, where the beggar's words seem to be haunting him. "Dire temptations indeed." Forward along the trail again, though the knight sighs for wonders passed by.

Once again, the gloom closes in, and the chimes can be heard for a little while longer, almost lamenting in their song, as the knight leaves the sword to the wilderness ... but it is not all that long before it is entirely out of sight. The path continues to wind along, and then ... a smell reaches Sir Lefallon's nostrils. Smoke. It does not seem like some wild forest fire or any such thing, but rather that of a campfire, and with it comes the fresh aroma of food! A grumble in his stomach reminds the knight that he has gone for quite some time without provisions on this journey, and hardly even a chance to rest his weary bones.

Sir Lefallon glances about for the happy travelers. "Can they have left the trail?" he wonders to himself. "Hello! Are there any out there?"

Sure enough, as Sir Lefallon continues along, he is soon able to make out the source of the smell, as a light pierces the darkness -- the light of a warmly glowing campfire.

"If there are travelers out there," the young knight continues, making sure that his own feet are on the path, "and if you have lost sight of the path, I implore you, come to my voice, so that you may be set on it again! Otherwise I fear you will be lost forever in these dark woods."

"My dear fellow, Lefallon," calls a familiar voice, "What brings you out in such a terrible place? I never thought of you as the exploring type."

Sir Lefallon looks about with surprise for the source of this voice.

Resting beside the campfire sits a familiar form. Why, it's Thomas, all the way out here. Thomas grins and waves. "Welcome, welcome. Come, join me by the fire. You must be absolutely tired from walking on that path so much. It gets hard on your feet. The softness of the mosses and leaves is much better."

"Is that you-- Lord Explorer?" says the young knight. He beams. "I am questing for the Holy Grail, as you may recall from our past ventures. I have been advised on good authority that it lies on the other side of these woods. What a surprise to find you here! Why, that beggar was just saying that once a soul strayed off the path, even the great explorer Thomas couldn't find him again-- and here you are!"

Thomas shakes his head. "Tsk. Listening to strange people in this place. I'm ashamed of you, dear fellow. Why, look at me, I'm not on the path and I'm hardly lost."

Sir Lefallon holds his hand out, standing on the edge of the path. "Will you accompany me, Lord Explorer? I should be glad of your company, though I fear that my quest will hold me to the path, not even to stray off it once." Doubt begins to creep into his eyes. Temptation can wear many faces...

"Following rules, Sir Lefallon?" Thomas asks, not moving from the fireside. "You know me better than that by now. How often have I followed the rules? You miss so much of the world if all you do is follow the safe ways. Have an adventure with me. Come, I'll show you much of this amazing forest."

That's Thomas, Sir Lefallon thinks with a smile. His stomach rumbles treacherously, but he tries to stay firm in his resolve. "Not this time, but another, milord Explorer. One falls too easily from the path that leads to the Holy Grail. I must bid you a fare well then." He turns his gaze toward the path again.

Thomas's face grows grim and he scowls. "Knights are not supposed to be cowards, Lefallon," he taunts, "What, are you afraid of this place?"

"Yes," the young knight admits. "But wisdom, not fear, bids me keep my feet on the path."

"Excuses, how pitiful. I had better expectations of you," Thomas chastises, standing slowly. He starts heading toward the path, features contorting with anger.

Sir Lefallon pauses again as he was about to turn to follow the path. "Lord Explorer--" He steps back into the center of the path. If True Thomas is here, but lost in the woods, perhaps he will inadvertently rescue himself. And if it is a monster... A quick glance to his sword hilt suggests an answer to that.

Thomas continues to approach, seemingly larger that Sir Lefallon remembers. However, when he reaches the edge of the path, he pauses, then steps over it. As Thomas steps onto the path, his form grows indistinct, wispy. Then a few moments later, he is gone, leaving Simon alone in the shadowy darkness.

The young knight stares, unbelieving at first. "Why-- it was naught but a mirage!" He shakes his head, and then with the spell broken, turns to face the path again. "Aye, Tom, you were always one for breaking the rules, but I-- I must hew to them. I pray that our paths cross again beyond these woods." Forward again.

The trail continues, and time and again, Sir Lefallon is certain that he hears ghostly whispering in the woods. At times, it seems frustratingly as if he's making no progress at all, as if the ground itself is resisting his efforts, and not merely the undergrowth.

The young knight trudges on, uttering a silent invocation to God to give him strength. Daylight... May I see daylight soon.

Perhaps there is an answer to his prayer ... as, at last, the way opens up ahead. The path is no longer quite so overgrown, and the trees stand a bit further away from the path to each side. At last, he reaches a sign, facing away from him ... and when he passes it, he can see on the reverse side (though largely covered by moss and vines), that it reads, "Beware, for Thou'rt Entering the Forest of Temptations! Stray Not from the Straight and True Path!" And if that is the entrance (and the sign, firmly planted just to one side of the path, and solid enough, seems real) then this must be the end of this accursed haunted wood at last!

Sir Lefallon lets out a loud and joyous whoop! "Thank you, God, for you have delivered me past myriad temptations!" He glances back at the sign, then forward again, taking a deep breath and surveying the world in all its rightness.

Although the forest seems far less threatening before, there are still many sounds of unseen creatures rustling about in the bushes here and there. Even a wood not filled with illusory temptations can still be full of wild beasts and other hazards.

Still, with a lighter heart, Sir Lefallon continues down the path.

A tremendous cloud of dust swirls down the path, blowing over Sir Lefallon, momentarily blinding him from the path ahead. When it clears, the Knight finds himself a mere five feet from a hulking monstrosity. Unkempt fur sticks this way and that, matted in some parts, missing in others. Cold, dead, eyes peer out from sunken eye sockets. Drool drips from the tips of long, slavering fangs. The creature stands there, staring at the knight, razor-sharp claws flicking against each other, sounding much like chalk on a piece of slate.

"Gah!" Sir Lefallon utters, backpedaling quickly. He puts his hand to his sword, but forebears to draw just yet. "What-- what manner of creature are you?"

The creature doesn't move at all. He just stands there, staring blankly at Sir Lefallon. "Nnnaaaggplh," it replies.

"A nagpleh?" The young knight pauses to consider it. It looks dangerous enough, but it hasn't moved to attack....

The creature starts shambling forward, toward Lefallon.

"Now now, I'd as soon you keep your distance, Nagpleh," Sir Lefallon warns. He backs away again, then tries to edge about so he can continue around it and down the path again.

"Marg, plerf, oog," the creature answers. Still, he continues to head toward Sir Lefallon. It certainly walks with a bizarre gait, arms swinging semi-limply at its sides.

The young knight considers his options. There seems to be no reason to embrace it as a comrade in arms, but nor has it threatened him to the point that martial feats are inevitable. He backs to one side of the trail, waiting for it to draw closer ... then breaks into a sprint in an attempt to get around it and hurry down the path!

"Muuur?" inquires the creature, watching the knight dash off. The creature takes off after Sir Lefallon, arms out. "Marf, pleeg, oot," it calls out. Sounds almost whiny, really.

Somewhere off the path, one of those pesky ghosts or nymphs or sprites that infest magical forests like this can be heard to giggle briefly. Or maybe that was just a strange bird call.

Sir Lefallon looks puzzled as he catches his breath some distance down the path. "Well, now, Nagpleh. You're certainly no threat." He glances farther down the path, then back to the thing. "I'll tell you what, if you insist on following me, you may do so, but no closer than..." He draws his sword and uses it to mark a point at his foot, and then another one some six feet off.

The young knight goes to stand back behind the first mark, and gestures to the creature that it should stand at the second, making "no-no" gestures if it seems to want to advance beyond them.

The bizarre thing stops at the end of the mark and looks plaintively at Sir Lefallon. Why, even its fangs quiver cutely. It sniffles softly, then ... well ... purrs. It appears to be content to follow along and gibber.

Sir Lefallon scratches behind his ear. "What an odd creature!" He looks forward again and decides that he may as well continue, letting his ears or the hairs of the back of his neck let him know if the Nagpleh threatens.

True to its behavior so far, the creature follows along. It jabbers and purrs happily.

"Now I wish my slender provisions had lasted a bit longer," muses Sir Lefallon as he glances backward. "I suppose you might be no more than a mendicant with, ah, horribly poorly manicured claws. Well, and a speech problem. Hm. What a puzzle, indeed."

The creature looks quite happy to follow along. Maybe it wants to go home with the knight. Maybe it's lonely. Maybe it's nuts. Who knows?

There's a loud crashing in the bushes, no doubt, yet another wild beast making its way through the wilderness ... though thankfully it doesn't show itself to add to Sir Lefallon's woes. Hardly a moment after that, though, Sir Lefallon's nose picks up the scent of ... food! It smells like a sandwich of some sort. And perhaps something baked. Sure enough, up ahead, up in a tree, there is a cloth-wrapped bundle that smells of food.

Sir Lefallon looks up. "Well, what luck, Nagpleh! Provender seems to have rained down for us from the heavens! Unless of course, some angel has lost his lunch." He peers about for the angel, just in case, prepared to do the knightly thing and make restitution.

"Uuuuur?" says the creature excitedly. It lurches forward, toward the tree. When it gets to the tree, it jumps up and down excitedly and tries to grab at the sandwich with its claws. "Marlp!" it yells. "Ooog!"

A little tag dangles from a string hanging on the pouch. "Providence for the Faithful Knight who Doth Seek the Grail," the tag reads.

The knight heaves a sigh. "Ah well, I suppose I should see what I can do, eh, Nagpleh? And I thank whatever angels there might be, who have granted this provender!" He shrugs off his pack and, making sure that the Nagpleh isn't going to savage his feet, sets to the tree in an effort to rescue Ye Aulde Providence.

The tree proves easy enough to scale for the nimble knight, though it appears that Nagpleh isn't so clever (or agile) as to perform such a feat himself. In short order, the knight is perched upon a sturdy limb, where the pouch rests. On a more remote branch, a squirrel peers at him curiously.

Sir Lefallon greets the squirrel kindly, then opens up the package to see what goodies might be within. "Perhaps I'm going mad, but as long as madness keeps me well fed, I shalln't complain," he muses.

The goodies within are indeed quite tempting -- several morsels of small hunks of meat and cheese sandwiched between crackers, and some baked sugary desserts that would tempt anyone's sweet tooth.

Sir Lefallon tosses a piece of the meat to the Nagpleh, then a piece of the cheese, to see which it might favor. He sets to on the remainder, happily ensconced in the tree, and hence, safe should the Nagpleh turn into a ravening hunger-demon.

The creature catches the falling food and dances about happily, gurgling. It devours the food, then settles down against the base of the tree. The tree shakes slightly then grows still. A few minutes later, very loud snoring can be heard.

"Hmm," Sir Lefallon observes. "A mighty snore." He nibbles on the treats last.

The squirrel looks covetously at the sugary cookies, as if regretting leaving this bag of morsels alone for a knight to find.

Sir Lefallon pauses, then shares the last morsel with the squirrel. "I suppose I should not stint on generosity, eh, squirrel?"

The squirrel snatches away the last morsel, scampering off to the safety of a remote branch, where it enthusiastically and vigorously gobbles up the cookie with amazing speed.

The knight laughs to see the squirrel's vigorous gobbling, and then crumples up the wrapping conscientiously and puts it away in a pouch, where it might be conserved for later use. Down the tree again, he thinks, to pick up my pack, and off along the path!

The creature doesn't follow this time. He happily snores beneath the tree, gurgling now and then.

The forest certainly seems less threatening than before, and before long, Sir Lefallon sees before him ... the topmost spire of a dilapidated-looking old watchtower, the last remnant of some ancient castle that once must have stood majestically to overlook some small fiefdom in this part of the land.

It must be not far away -- in a clearing just beyond a mass of trees. He can hear the faint burbling of a brook, and the random melody of wind-blown chimes.

The knight hurries down to observe this magnificent old structure. "So men have lived in this country once," he observes. His gaze goes from up the brook to down it. "I wonder where they are now?"

As Sir Lefallon makes his way past the last barrier of trees, he finds that beyond it are small fields of grain, and grassy places being grazed on by animals. Small cottages dot the hilly country here and there, with warm and friendly plumes of smoke rising upward from their chimneys. The crumbling tower presides over all, and the old broken path leads back and forth up a slope, toward its base. In the distance, Sir Lefallon can see a hunched figure standing, cape blowing in the wind, leaning heavily on a crooked staff. Though his eyes cannot be made out clearly from this far away, it does not take much to imagine that he is watching the approach of the knight from the woods.

"Hello!" calls Sir Lefallon to the figure, coming closer. Perhaps this man can tell him about the village.

The watchtower is a curious structure indeed, for it sports two spires rising from it, almost suggesting a pair of horns, and the darkened windows could easily suggest eyes to those with sufficient imagination. The stranger only nods to Sir Lefallon as he approaches, and waits patiently as the knight makes his way up the winding road.

The young knight brushes back his hair, lifting his chainmail cap a moment, then sets it back down again. "I have been long on the road, sir, and I am glad to see signs of civilization again. What town is that which lies about this tower, and what tower is this that was once a castle?"

In a voice forceful and strong, quite poorly matched with his apparently frail frame, the darkly-attired, hunched-over stranger says, "You have come to Caer Bannuac, traveler, and few bother to come this way. What is it that brings you to such a forgotten place as this?"

"I have been told that the Holy Grail lies in these parts, sir. I seek it for the renewal of Mirari," Sir Lefallon explains.

"Then you have been told rightly, traveler. I am Pelles of Annwn, known to some as the Fisher King," the hunched stranger says, not moving from where he leans heavily on his crooked staff. "I am the keeper of the Grail, and my kingdom rests apart from other places, only to be found by those worthy enough to take on this quest. That is not to say, however, that you are worthy enough to actually see or take the Grail. That is yet to be determined. It is within this keep, and I must judge whether or not you may gain entrance."

Sir Lefallon looks surprised. "The Fisher King!" He starts to kneel as one would for an audience with a monarch.

Pelles of Annwn laughs, though there seems to be little mirth in his voice. "You have your own liege, knight, and I have dominion over only this very small place. There is no need to soil your knees by bowing here. Rise, so I may look at you."

"Your Majesty, I pray you will receive my petition with just consideration, for I cannot ask for more than what is just," the young knight says, rising again. "Whatever tests you wish to make, I shall submit to."

"Indeed you shall, young knight," Pelles says, "but if you have come so far, you have passed plenty of tests already. Surely you are diligent, resistant to temptations, proficient in defending yourself against mortal danger, but also not so quick as to attack those who pose you no harm -- quick to act when need be, but patient and attentive enough to heed words of warning. Quite a good show. Quite a lot to be proud of. But there is one thing yet remaining, and I think that there is no one better to ask it of, than of you yourself -- and consider your answer carefully...."

"Tell me, knight," Pelles asks, "are you humble?"

Sir Lefallon blinks. "Of--" He stops to think it over.

Pelles looks at Sir Lefallon intently as the knight weighs his answer.

"I can only say, King Pelles, that humbleness is not an easy state to keep," the young knight says after a moment. "It must be strived for. There is honest pride in work well done, but there is unjust pride, which leads one into error. I pray that God and my own will shall keep me from the latter. But until I rest in my grave, I cannot say with certainty that I have been humble all my life or not."

Pelles' gaze does not waver. "And is that ... your answer?"

"Aye. I strive to refrain from pride's errors. Whether I am humble or not, I shall leave to others to judge from my works," Sir Lefallon says.

The man looks at Sir Lefallon a while longer ... and then a very faint smile pulls back the edges of his mouth. "I am a crooked old man with a crooked old staff, up a crooked old road leading to a crooked old tower, and it is only fitting that for my old question, you should give me a crooked answer. So be it, then. If you had given me a short 'yes' or 'no', I would have sent you away, perhaps even turned you into a wild beast for your impertinence, but you have passed, young knight."

"It is a question that defeats itself in easy answering," agrees Sir Lefallon with a grin.

Pelles of Annwn whispers a word, and the wooden door to the tower creaks open. "In with you," he says, making a shooing gesture with his hand.

"Thank you, your majesty," adds the young knight. He bows his head and then steps into the tower.

The small grey form of a cat patters away from the door on light paws, alighting up the steps and then pausing, gazing back at the knight with blue eyes, as if waiting patiently for the traveler, anxious to guide him to the end of his destination ... or else the cat is impatient, for it does not pose here long, instead scampering up the rest of the way, and disappearing soon around a twist in the spiral stairs.

The interior of the tower smells damp and old, with faded tapestries and low-burning torch sconces clinging to the cracked stone walls. The stairs look treacherous and uneven, but at the very least, they're strong enough to support a cat.

Sir Lefallon looks up at the stairs. "A high place for a high treasure," he muses as he starts up them. Then, as he wobbles a bit, sensing the unevenness of the steps, more carefully he makes his way up.

Perhaps it is disappointing that after so many travails, the stairs are not so dangerous as they look, though the climb is long enough to be taxing, and to perhaps inspire thoughts that the last test is simply one of physical fitness. Nonetheless, at last the stairs lead up to a landing. Two sets of stairs lead further up -- to each of the two spires seen to top the tower -- but there is a shrine here, beneath an open window. In the sunlight, there is a chalice, simple and unassuming in design, yet having about it a certain aura ... a feeling that there are many tales to be told, if only this chalice had a voice to tell them. It is not fashioned of gold, and there are no jewels embedded in it. There are no runes, no embossed figures, no gaudy ornaments. Perhaps it is too simple to be such an important artifact.

Sir Lefallon looks at the chalice wonderingly. "After so long in the woods and the wild lands ... do my travels end here?" Perhaps he is speaking to the cat, or just to himself. The knight walks forward toward it, but stops short of touching it, fearing to be impious. He glances about, searching if there are means by which it should be taken up in proper state.

A gentle breeze blows through the window, caressing the young knight's face, and teasing his hair. A faint and flowery scent reaches his nose, and he can again hear the varied song of chimes. As for the chalice, if the knight is afraid of touching the chalice himself, it would seem that there are other options: on the table rest cloths of white linen, and a velvet-lined case (its designs far more elaborate than the chalice that might fit inside it) rests to one side.

Sir Lefallon begins to feel out of his depths. "These are holy matters," he mutters. "Would that I had been taught more of how holy artifacts ought to be handled." He looks about for the cat, since it might have some advice on the subject, having lived here after all, then takes a moment to investigate the stairs, should the cat have gone up one after all.

The cat sits perched on a chair tucked around the corner, looking at the knight with bright blue eyes that are crossed as they regard him. They seem to hold a hint of mischief.

"Ah! There you are, Lady Cat," Sir Lefallon says with a smile, reaching down to pet her a moment before contemplating his task. "Do you know anything of the Holy Grail, milady?"

The cat purrs, then, in a very clear and distinct voice, giggles, "Of course, I do! I live here, you know. Really, after coming this far, I think you ought to get down on your knees and give thanks for finding the Grail and all. You know, a little respect and thanks can't hurt much. Purrrrrr."

Sir Lefallon looks surprised, then considers the advice. "Thank you, milady, and an extra scratching for your trouble." He scratches under her chin, then kneels before the chalice and begins a prayer. "Thank you to the Lord God, and to all who have helped me to find this holy instrument of your will... I pray that I will be worthy to bear it to where it is needed, and that you will show me how it is to be best used, for the needy and the downtrodden, for the cold and the hungry, for those who need justice, and those who need kindness." He lets out a breath. "Amen." Looking up, Sir Lefallon glances over at the cat to see if she seems satisfied.

The cat is purring, looking quite content as she rests on the chair. But as Lefallon looks, it seems that the sunlight is shining a little more brightly. Riding down on the sunbeam comes a vision of heavenly beauty, an angel -- the very same one who first presented the Grail to Sir Lefallon in the vision that began this quest. "Sir Lefallon," the angel says, "you have done well, and pleased the Most High. You are given permission to take possession of the Grail, so that it may be used in this time of need for the land of Mirari. But do know -- the Grail is not to be kept by any one person, and in time, it will disappear again, to be sought after by other virtuous knights such as yourself, young or old, in their times of need. The Grail itself is but a symbol, but treat it nonetheless with care -- not for the sake of a cup, but in respect for that which it represents."

Sir Lefallon looks up with amazement and then beams. Sound advice from the cat, indeed. "I will take up your charge with gladness and hope that I may carry it out with good will and success, milady Angel," he avows. "Nor shall I seek to keep it longer than need be."

The angel bows her head, clasping her hands together ... and then with a flash of light and a flutter of wings ... she is gone, like a half-remembered dream.

Sir Lefallon looks up into the empty air for a moment longer, and then smiles to the cat. "My gratitude, Lady Cat, and please take my thanks to King Pelles as well." He takes up the linen cloths, sparing a look to the window, beyond the horizon of which he fancies he might sense Mirari's towers. It will be a long journey back, and perilous for a traveler with treasure that any bandit might fancy ... but it won't seem difficult at all, because he will be carrying-- hope.

Previous Log: Unlocking	Next Log: Lady of the Lake

Thread Links
	Previous Log: Unlocking Next Log: Lady of the Lake		Previous Log: Simon's Quest Next Log: Working out the Details
	Previous Log: The Return of Lord Explorer Thomas Next Log: Glamour Lessons		Previous Log: Unlocking Next Log: Glamour Lessons

---

This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.