In Pan Post 104 Morganna le Fay, lost in her desperation, is firing the turbolasers of Camelot upon the planet Caledonia indiscriminately. Merlin the Younger and several others are unable to get into the Command Deck as Morganna has locked it shut but Admiral Ltexi takes them to the axillary control room, the Command Centre. However she discovers that Camelot, unlike her own ship The Hopeful, has no computer banks or artificial intelligence to run the ship and bypass Morganna. Tom a'Lincoln is almost claimed by the ship when he steps up to the platform and the ship's organic intelligence system activates. He's saved by Ltexi who tells them the last person claimed that way died when they were cut free from the ship. Merlin tries to sacrifice herself in the same manner believing she must stop Morganna but Ltexi again stops her and tells her her life is worth so much more. On the planet Sir Galahad and his group reach Hyperborea upon one of the drow's flying bricks but a stray shot sends them plummeting out of the sky. The brick then, unfortunately, kills their drow guide, Minister Lysse, and they must confront the Boreans alone. King Mark, expert negotiator, convinces three of the never-aging Boreans to help them against Prelate Seerias' drow forces. Benem, Kryst and Tulla agree to help and they reveal that the God, the gigantic orb above Hyperborea, provides all of their magic, power and even creates new Boreans should any be killed.
Characters: King Arthur | Queen Guinevere | Prince Mordred | Morganna le Fay | Merlin the Younger | Sir Kay | Sir Lancelot | Sir Bedivere | Sir Galahad | Sir Tristram | Sir Caelia | Sir Red Rose Knight | Sir Black Knight | Sir Faerie Knight | Andy | Admiral Ltexi | Gamma Pans | King Mark | Queen Iseult | Sir Gawain | Sir Greene Knight | Isolde of the White Hands | Prelate Seerias | Minister Lysse | Benem | Kryst | Tulla
Minister Lysse: "Those blasts from your spacecraft are pretty erratic..."
Camelot's turbolasers are still firing, if sporadically, in random burst patterns. Sometimes they manage to strike the mountain, othertimes... not so much. One blast hits close to the jungle land that Sir Galahad's band is traversing atop of a flying brick.
They had been incredibly perturbed by this 'beast of burden' but the long trip would have been too far to walk in any reasonable amount of time. The brick is one of the smaller ones but managed to seat almost everyone. Bar one. It was quickly decided, mostly without his own input, that Sir Gawain would be the one to ride separately from the main brick. Instead he gets to ride upon a paving stone, which is being towed by a rope from the brick. Most of the early trip was spent listening to Sir Gawain's desperate wails. Once he had settled down, however, he found cruising through the skies to be fairly pleasant. He calls over the gap between his paving stone and the bigger brick.
Sir Gawain: "I don't think they know how to fire them properly!"
Sir Galahad: "True..."
Sir Palamedes: "And you know how women are, amiright!?"
They sit in silence and Sir Palamedes deflates.
Their drow guide is seated at the front of the brick, cross-legged and somehow guides the brick with nothing more than suggestions of where to go.
Minister Lysse: "Well, I wish they'd get it under control. How much life do they intend to destroy down here?"
Sir Palamedes: "A few cats and dogs won't be missed, Minister!"
She glances back at him with a stern glare.
Minister Lysse: "By you, maybe."
King Mark: "It is a nuisance, Minister. Dangerous for us too. Unfortunately I don't think the Lady Morganna is willing to listen to us right now. She's never been the most patient of people nor the greatest of listeners..."
Minister Lysse: "She's going to have to listen to a whole planet of people if she keeps that up."
The brick bobs below a particularly tall blue tree, whose big palm leaves brush against the heads of the seated flyers. Sir Gawain almost ends up in the canopy of leaves below them and he cries out as a branch in snapped from a tree and dragged along with his dangling legs.
Minister Lysse: "We're almost there. Please keep all arms and feet tucked in at all times. The crew of this flight cannot be held accountable for any loss of limbs."
Sir Gawain: "I can't! My paving stone isn't big enough!"
Merlin: "Morganna, please open the door!"
Sir Caelia: "How did she even trick you all out of the room anyway?"
Tom a'Lincoln: "Doughnuts. She said there were fresh doughnuts in the canteen room..."
Sir Caelia refrains from facepalming. They're stood outside the Command Deck in a large group - mostly the Command Deck staff but also a few other knights who'd decided to join in the attempt to get the doors open. The Command Deck, however, has been sealed tight. Only a small, circular window allows them to peek into the room where they can see Morganna frantically mashing buttons to force Camelot to open fire on the planet below. Having only a rudimentary grasp of how the computer systems work she's not doing the greatest of jobs, but she's learning every minute.
Faerie Knight: "If she keeps it up, she could end up killing the prince instead of rescuing him..."
Tom a'Lincoln: "I know but she's not in her right mind."
Sir Caelia: "Can't believe you were tricked by the promise of doughnuts..."
Tom a'Lincoln holds his hands up in innocence.
Tom a'Lincoln: "You know how much I love doughnuts! And it's been a long time since--"
His wife rolls her eyes.
Sir Caelia: "At least our son would never--"
The Faerie Knight shuffles uneasily and receives a look of disappointment from his faerie mother.
Sir Caelia: "Half-faerie, half-moron."
Faerie Knight: "But doughnuts--!"
Sir Caelia: "I guess it could be worse..."
Merlin: "Worse how?"
Sir Caelia: "They could have an obsession with eating haddocks or something. That would be really nasty."
Tom a'Lincoln: "Never fear, dear."
He wraps an arm around his son's shoulders and pulls him in.
Tom a'Lincoln: "We are doughnut men!"
Sir Caelia: "How is this a source of pride for you?"
She tilts her head and puckers her lips in thought.
Sir Caelia: "But how do we get in there?"
Admiral Ltexi: "You know you don't have to, right?"
They all turn to see Ltexi leaning against the bulwark of the corridor. Since being stuck on the ship she's had to change her clothes for washing and, in the meantime, is now wearing a traditional long dress of England's women. Yet, despite the sudden refinement (in the eyes of the humans) she still carries herself with all the grace of a highwayman. She jerks her thumb behind her and looks at them as though they all came drooling out of the local tavern.
Admiral Ltexi: "The Command Centre. I have told you about it before."
Merlin perks up.
Merlin: "Oh! I remember! It's like an auxiliary room, right!?"
Admiral Ltexi: "Exactly. The psycho-with-the-guns in there obviously doesn't know where way around Jovianbook, nevermind a... what? Why're you looking at me like a bunch of stoners?"
Merlin: "What's Jovianbook?"
Admiral Ltexi: "Social media..."
Faerie Knight: "What's a stoner?"
Admiral Ltexi: "Someone high on substances..."
Sir Caelia: "That sounds like fun!"
Faerie Knight: "Mum!"
Sir Caelia: "You have your doughnuts..."
Merlin: "What's social media?"
Admiral Ltexi: "Media used by the people."
Tom a'Lincoln: "And what's media?"
Admiral Ltexi: "Oh for crying out loud! What is this, a game of twenty questions?"
There's a pause.
Sir Caelia: "Pretty sure I could come up with way more than just twenty questions--"
Admiral Ltexi: "Seriously, you have a crazy woman armed with firepower that can melt the surface of the planet and you want to make a list of questions?"
Sir Caelia: "Oh right. Yes! To the Control Room!"
Admiral Ltexi: "Command Centre..."
Sir Caelia: "Oh. To the Command-- Command..."
Admiral Ltexi: "Centre."
Sir Caelia: "Centre!"
Sir Galahad: "Oh wow..."
The jungle abruptly ends and is replaced by a great white expanse of snow. The air is instantly freezing, as though they'd passed an invisible wall from the cool air to the freezing air. Though amazing by itself, their attention is actually drawn to the colossal sphere that looms in the distance. As tall as any mountain, the sphere occupies the heart of the ice wastes. It's completely black, save for a blue mesh that clings to it like a symmetrical net. A blue aura surrounds the sphere like a halo.
As they draw closer, the other buildings upon the snow become more apparent. Larger than any city of ancient Britannia the buildings are all incredibly unique in their designs, sizes and shapes. Even the streets between them have their own flair and styles. Some streets appear as roads, others tunnels, others are brightly lit while others still are covered in exotic foliage. And yet, above it all, still hangs the sphere. Yet they can see the aura of the sphere streaming down to the city. It doesn't appear entirely consistent as it shifts and changes in strength from building or area but there is an eternal draw.
Minister Lysse: "Welcome to Hyperborea. Let's hope they don't shoot us down!"
King Mark: "You probably should have mentioned they'd do that before we came here, Minister..."
Isolde of the White Hands: "Just great. Killed riding a brick. That's not going to look good in the annuls of Camelot..."
Queen Iseult: "Maybe you could bring yourself back from the dead. Become one of your own monsters."
Instead of retorting, Isolde gives a bemused smirk - almost as if she's considering what that process might actually entail. When Isolde doesn't respond Iseult settles back with an irritated scowl, until her eyes lock with her husband's. Then, instead, she looks guiltily down at the snowscape below.
Minister Lysse: "Relax! I was just joking with you. We're in no danger, though I think they'll be surprised to see us."
Sir Galahad: "So your people don't keep close contact with these Boreans?"
Minister Lysse: "No. They don't really like to mingle with us locals. And honestly, most drow see them as invaders. You too, by the way."
Sir Galahad: "We know that. But you don't?"
Minister Lysse: "Oh, I do! But it can't be helped. You are here, we are here. I don't think hitting each other with rocks is going to help. If you need a place to live, well there's plenty of land for everyone."
Sir Galahad feels a little guilty when she says that. Possibilities of conquest had already been cooked up during a Council of the Round Table. But they would be better off under British rule, naturally. The chance to be in God's true kingdom, serving the greatest king in all the lands... of course they'd be happy to submit!
King Mark: "What is that orb, Minister? Should we be worried?"
Minister Lysse: "I think it's magic. Or something similar. I don't really know, I'm a drow not a Borean. These people are pretty reclusive. They're not uncooperative, they just don't seek out others. If you want to meet them, you have to go to them first. Weird behaviour for a group of aliens that landed here."
Queen Iseult: "Do ye know where they're from?"
Minister Lysse: "No clue. I know they're not from this world though. I'd have seen them in the Over-Soul if they were."
There's a moment of quiet until someone decides to ask the obvious question.
Isolde of the White Hands: "What the Hell're you talking about?"
Minister Lysse: "Oh, sorry! I didn't think to explain!"
Despite her words, her demeanour conveyed that she'd been waiting for the question and was pleased as punch to be educating her alien guests.
Minister Lysse: "It's where we go when we die."
Sir Galahad: "Oh, I see! You call Heaven the Over-Soul. Strange name for it."
Minister Lysse: "Heaven? No. Some people believe in religion like that but I don't. The Over-Soul has nothing to do with any of the gods that others' believe in. It's the unique physics of our wo--crapcakes!"
A rogue blast from Camelot splashes down into Hyperborea. Far from the city, but close to the flying brick. Galahad curses their luck and swears that Morganna must have been aiming for them. The brick, struck by the shockwave from the blast, flops in the air and upends everybody so unceremoniously that Galahad feels they weren't so much dropped as dumped.
They fall downwards from their tremendous height, tumbling and spiralling down, down, down until WHOOMPH! They land in a thick layer of snow. Sir Galahad scrambles out of the Galahad-shaped hole and looks around for the rest. Heads pop up from their respective shapes.
Minister Lysse: "Wow! Lucky there was all this snow here or we might have d--"
The humans stare with horror at the fallen flying brick, sitting where Minister Lysse had once been.
Queen Iseult: "Oh my God!!!"
Isolde: "Great! Now I can possess her corpse!"
Queen Iseult: "Don't you dare, witch!"
Sir Galahad and Sir Gawain desperately try to move the brick but it just lies there stubbornly. Even if they had moved it, the chances that the drow minister survived the sudden press are fairly slim...
Sir Galahad: "Poor Minister Lysse..."
King Mark: "Unfortunate... but also pretty bad for us too. Not sure how introductions with the boreans will go without her..."
Queen Iseult: "And how are we going to explain she was squished by her own brick to her people?"
Sir Galahad has his hands pressed together and eyes closed in quiet prayer.
Sir Gawain: "Maybe we should pray for this over-soul thing too? That was her religion, I believe..."
Sir Galahad: "I can't pray to something that's not real."
Sir Gawain: "Right..."
King Mark: "We should go. Mourning will have to wait, otherwise we'll be mourning more deaths if we don't get the prince and convince Lady Morganna to stop firing."
Isolde: "At leat let me get her b--"
Queen Iseult: "If I see any flatten drow corpses shuffling in my vicinity, I'm going to cram one of these flying bricks down your gob."
Sir Tristram: "Her death alone will cause upset with her people, we don't want to make it any worse, Isolde dear."
Iseult glances at Tristram but quickly turns away. At first she appears upset but then she looks at her husband with a mask of determination. Mark nods at her and they proceed towards the city of Hyperborea. Sir Galahad follows with a heavy heart.
Admiral Ltexi: "So, from here you should be able to retake control of the ship. So long as your nutjob friend doesn't figure out how to override it since the Command Deck outranks this Command Centre."
Merlin: "Okay. So... how do I do that?"
Admiral Ltexi: "The compu--"
She pauses as she remembers; this isn't The Hopeful. Aboard her own she she had had console banks installed in this very room to make it functional. But here she sees nothing but the original design - a room with a singular circular gold plate on the ground. There's no A.I. here, no manual input... this was a bad idea after all. The problem is; how can she not look incompetent.
Tom a'Lincoln: "There must be some way to--"
There's a sudden whirring sound from above them. Tom is standing at the centre of the gold plate and, from above, hatches have opened up. He stands there, dumbly looking up at the mysterious openings.
Admiral Ltexi: "Move you idiot!"
She rushes towards him and shoves him to the floor, away from the platform. He topples over, somehow overwhelmed by this woman despite his muscular bulk, and lands on the floor with a loud clang as his forehead smacks the metal. He whines.
Faerie Knight: "Oi! That's my dad!"
Sir Caelia: "I wouldn't mind learning that move."
Admiral Ltexi: "A bump on the head is better than a metal rod in the spine..."
Faerie Knight: "What do you mean? You mean those openings?"
The hatches slowly whir closed but they continue staring up at them.
Admiral Ltexi: "I do... I've only seen them once. One of my soldiers was trying to test what the plate did. A tendril of some kind came out and slammed into her spine. Then the rest came out. We didn't wait to find out where they'd go. I cut her down..."
Faerie Knight: "Was she...?"
Admiral Knight: "Alive when attached to the ship. Dead as soon as I cut her loose."
Merlin: "Wh-why would that happen!?"
Admiral Ltexi: "It's the O.I. technology. That's how this ship used to operate. The ship takes over your body, uses your brain as a kind of computer. The brain is able to work much better than any computing machine, but we're just rubbish at utilising its full potential. A machine gets hold of an organic brain and... well it works better than an actual machine could. You were nearly turned into living husk, petal."
Tom gets to his feet.
Tom a'Lincoln: "Don't call me petal. I'm not a little girl..."
Admiral Ltexi: "You are the rose knight, aren't you? Ergo, petal."
Tom a'Lincoln: "How did you become an admiral with an attitude like that?"
Admiral Ltexi: "Considering the state of your knights, I'd probably have had an easier time making it as admiral in your kingdom, smart arse."
Tom is about to argue but couldn't see how she was wrong. He shrugs and nods, conceding her point.
Merlin: "Is this O.I. technology the only way to control the ship from this room, Ltexi?"
Admiral Ltexi: "Without console banks or an A.I., I think we're buggered..."
She marches towards the plate but Ltexi, seeing the odd look in her eyes, grabs her and forcibly pushes her away.
Admiral Ltexi: "What the Hell are you doing!?"
Merlin stands straight, determination but also fear on her brow.
Merlin: "If it's the only way to s--"
Sir Caelia: "Merlin! Good grief!"
Tom a'Lincoln: "Didn't you hear what the admiral said? You'd die!"
Merlin: "It's the only way to--"
Admiral Ltexi: "I am going to smack you in a minute, you stupid girl."
Admiral Ltexi: "And I'll use the back of my hand!"
Merlin: "... but--"
Ltexi follows through with her threat. The smack hits Merlin on the cheek and she staggers back. The others wince in sympathy. Merlin is silent, holding her cheek.
Admiral Ltexi: "I don't want to hear you ever saying such stupid things again, Merlin. Sacrificing yourself so readily would be a waste and I won't let you do that. Ever."
Merlin: "You told me... you said you'd die with your ship if you had to..."
Admiral Ltexi: "If I had to, sure! But not until I'd tried every other possibility first. Besides. I'm captain. The ship is my responsibility. Last I checked, the captain here is our petal."
Tom a'Lincoln: "I'm guessing there were a lot of people that hate you back on your own ship, right admiral?"
Admiral Ltexi: "You're too important, Merlin..."
Merlin: "Did you really have to slap me to say that?"
Admiral Ltexi: "So you'll remember it."
Admiral Ltexi: "Plus, I kind of enjoyed it. Heh heh heh."
Sir Caelia: "I'll sign up for that! Any excuse to slap my husband a few times a day!"
Tom a'Lincoln: "Heeeeeeeeeey--"
Sir Caelia: "Would it make it better if I said spank instead?"
Sir Faerie Knight: "Mother!"
As the humans approach Hyperborea, the Boreans glance at them but do nothing else. None of them approach the intruders, nor do they seem disturbed by them. The humans pass as though they're just a bunch of stray pidgeons. The humans huddle up.
Sir Gawain: "This is a little creepy..."
The Boreans have skin that is very pale gold, looking especially golden when standing in the dark and especially pale when in the light of the moons. Similar in effect to the armour of Sir Palamedes, only not so sparkly. Their ears a long and pointed and their eyes are almond shaped, narrowing in the corner like the eyes of the Chinese. The colour of the eye is such a faint hue of brown that they appear yellow at a distance. Their hair is most commonly blonde, though some have white hair, but they come in all manner of styles; long, short, up, down. The most striking feature of them, however, is that they appear to be androgynous. They are feminine to Galahad's eyes, but not a single breast in sight. Are they, then, all men? Perhaps their breasts are just very small...?
Sir Gawain: "Should we try talking to one of them? Seems like they're not going to come to talk to us..."
King Mark: "I'll give it a shot."
He strides confidently across a small bridge that hops over a thin stream of cold and pristine water. The bridge is wooden and, had any of them visited the east, would have looked Japanese to the humans. But on the other side of the bridge is a tarmac road lined with street lamps of white light. The buildings here all have a somewhat oriental flair, but their all still incredibly unique in design, features and function. Yet even some of the buildings here defy the conformity of the rest and stand proudly with zero oriental influence upon their aesthetics.
Mark approaches a borean whose hair is long, and soft as silk. As he nears it, the borean tilts their head inquisitively. As Mark nears the height of these boreans becomes apparent. They're not giants, but they average at six foot - which is much taller than the average height of human men of 500AD.
King Mark: "Greetings!"
Borean: "Oh you can talk can you? How adorable."
Mark stammers, confused by that remark. He manages to collect himself, resisting the urge to glance for help from the others. He stands as tall as he can, still a few inches shorter than this female-esque being. And Mark is one of the taller men in Arthur's kingdom. Fortunately his nice, velvet hat makes up those extra inches to give him the appearance of being the same height.
King Mark: "I can talk. I'm human. We've come to ask for your help. Could you take me to your leader?"
Borean: "You poor thing. You must be lost..."
King Mark: "No, no! This is Hyperborea, correct?"
The Borean nods slowly.
King Mark: "We wish to form an alliance against a drow nation that threatens us both."
Borean: "Oh... I see. You are definitely speaking to the wrong Borean!"
The Borean titters and Mark is certain this is a woman. Albeit a breastless woman. She's wearing something like a long-sleeved t-shirt that is quite form-fitting so there is no mistaking the lack of 'chesticles'.
King Mark: "That is why I think I need to speak to your leader. Not that speaking to you isn't pleasant! You seem very nice and I'd love to stand around and chat but important matters, and all that."
He gives her his best smile.
Borean: "We have no leaders."
A mental snap, cursing aliens and their bizarre ways, slams through Mark's mind for an instant. He manages to soften it after physically rocking back on his heels, as though blasted by the shock of her words.
King Mark: "Right. I see. So... who should I speak to?"
Borean: "Some are coming to meet you now."
She's barely spoken when several Boreans approach him. They don't appear especially militaristic, nor do they appear to dress like lords. They're dressed just as individualistically as the buildings appear to be.
Borean #2: "You are called human?"
King Mark: "I am a human. My name is King Mark."
Borean #3: "Well, King Mark, we are old elves..."
King Mark: "You don't look very old."
Borean #3: "We don't age."
King Mark: "Yet you're old..."
The Boreans have a good chuckle at this.
Borean #2: "That would be a paradox, wouldn't it! By age, we mean to say that our species is not submit to entropy."
King Mark: "You are immortal?"
Borean #1, the first of them he'd spoken to, scoffs.
Borean #1: "We can die! From attack, for example. Not that that has happened in a very long time."
Borean #2: "We haven't been fighting since we arrived here, actually. Some of the drow do resent us, it's true. But they haven't plucked up the courage to come and attack us yet. I, personally, am glad of it. I do dislike harming lesser species..."
Mark realises he's probably considered to be a 'lesser species' by these people.
King Mark: "It seems certain drow factions may be changing their ways. They attacked us and kidnapped our prince. Their intent has been to drive all of us invaders, so they see us, off of Caledonia."
Borean #3: "That's unfortunate for them. If they come here intending harm, they'll be dealt with."
King Mark: "But if we join together, we would be stronger! Help us and we can help you!"
The Boreans all smile patronisingly, as though Mark were a child that asked the cutest darned question in the world.
Borean #2: "The help you have to offer... I'm not sure we need your help. It's very nice of you to think of us though."
Borean #1: "It's adorable, isn't it? There's more of them over there."
The first Borean points over to the other humans, who are all looking sheepish.
King Mark decides to swallow his pride and assume this may be the best way to get their aid;
King Mark: "You may not need us, but we need you. Without your help, our prince may die and his family will not stop until they either destroy the drow or lie dead. We don't want either to happen. We seek only peace, but we will free our lord and protect ourselves. If you help us, perhaps the fighting will be over quickly and the drow will surrender and realise that they must learn to share this world?"
The Boreans fall silent for a moment, though their faces change expressions as though in deep conversation. Mark begins to wonder what is happening when one of them speaks;
Borean #3: "We will go with you. Only us three. We shouldn't start marching everyone out of the city just for this little endeavour."
King Mark's cheeks flush red.
King Mark: "With all due respect, I think you are underestimating this enemy."
Borean #2: "The drow pose no threat to us. I promise you. We'll keep you safe, King Mark."
The Borean pats him on the head.
King Mark: "... thank you."
The Boreans begin to guide him down the road and the other humans follow. After a few introductions, the Boreans reveal themselves to be Benem, Kryst and Tulla. Their names seem far more simplistic than he had expected and Benem, who is the first Borean with the t-shirt and long hair, tells him these are their pet names - names most species seem to be able to say. Their true names are their 'mind names' and not words at all, but a sense of being that is conversed telepathically between them. They then explain that their telepathy doesn't revolve around language but sensations, feelings and mutual understandings. The whole process seems incredibly difficult to comprehend and reckons only a Borean could truly understand the concept. Like trying to explain 3D to an ant.
Kryst has very short hair, cropped close to the skull. Mark thought this one must be male based on that alone but then there was that same tittering that Benem also had. Kryst wears a thick robe that Merlin and Morganna would have admired, coloured with faint green fabric and fastened with gauze adornments. Tulla appears more feminine than the other two - the face is less angular and the lips fuller. Her hair is worn up in a peculiar style that looked like a golden plant growing out of her head. She wears a simple blue tracksuit, not that Mark knows what that is so to him it appears entirely alien.
Queen Iseult: "I didn't see any children in Hyperborea, do you keep them in safe places or something?"
The, now familiar, patronising smirk passes amongst the three Boreans.
Kryst: "We don't have children."
There's a long silence as the humans try to fathom such a thing. As delicately as he can, Mark decides he has to ask for clarification.
King Mark: "Then how... do you... make new old elves?"
Benem: "God makes them."
Shock passes through the humans.
Sir Galahad: "God? He just... makes new people for you?"
Sir Gawain: "You must be... chosen people. Like us!"
Benem: "God provides us with everything we require to live the way we do. Through God our magical energies come forth. We don't need to use aether, for example, as other beings do. Magic flows into us from God. God is our mind, through it our minds are connected. We sense each other all of the time. Truly, God is great."
Sir Galahad: "Indeed! God is great!"
King Mark: "I feel like we're missing something in this little tale..."
Isolde: "Where is your God? Have you seen him?"
Sir Galahad: "Isolde! You can't ask that!"
Galahad always knew Isolde must be a wretched pagan!
Isolde: "Answer the damn question! All I hear is hot air!"
Kryst sweeps their arm and holds their palm towards the gigantic orb that looms over them. From here it seems to take up the entire sky.
Kryst: "Here is God."
King Mark: "See? I knew it."
Sir Palamedes: "If that's God, I'm a penguin."
"At the suggestion of Al Ciao the Writer to consider Hyperborea[Ext 1] as a precursor race for Earth, I developed them into Space Camelot and a people that travel throughout the cosmos, taking everything with them as they go. The original 'Hyperboreans' (which I renamed Boreans) were supposedly giants that lived in the icy lands to the north of Europe so while I didn't make the Boreans giants, I made them taller than most humans as an acknowledgement of the original concept. I also made their lands always covered in snow and ice, wherever they go. To add to the cultural context of religion, I included 'God' for the Boreans, except their concept of God is completely different than that of the English humans." ~ Britt the Writer