An Eminence? No, I am just a reaper (OC story)

The round table

Speech = ''...''
Thoughts = [... }

ºº

''Why are we here..., what did you do this time? ''

Mordred said, his voice calm and collected..., like the still crystal waters of a pond inside a palace own garden. Yet there was a hint of danger lingering at their edge, a silent threat that his polite, stoic facade could not hide well enough for spilling out into the open as his eyes bared almost hatefully into the object of his present hatred.

A bald...

Ugly...

Fat man...

The very same one that stared at him dumbfounded before his face became creased in a myriad of lines, small pig eyes narrowing into thin slits as they tried, yet failing to return his glare.

''Me? Why are you looking at me to begin with...? I was not the one that called us here..!''

Growled annoyed Nelson, his voice making that stupid looking moustache of his to twirl and shake as he did.

''Because whenever you are on and about a mess always follows you...as expected of a man of your lacking powers..''

''What!? What in heavens name are you babbling about Mordred..?''

He shook his head, annoyed at the ever building need to play at civility instead of getting what he wanted form the rotten carcass of wasted breath standing before him.

That..and the fact that he hated having to explain himself when he had been so painfully

His fellow Round appearing as interesting in the mind of the ninth chosen of the Cults most higher echelon of command as the very same filthy, human rag skinned scientist he had smacked around like the walking garbage that he was back in Orianna. Though now he was unable to do such therapeutic thing, forced to endure their presence.

In his opinion, that old man should have died long ago. His presence a reminder of the Cults failure to attend godhood even after so long and so much resources invested to the man's experiments.

The power he had taken for himself possibly better in the hands of another than where they remained until now, someone who had not grow fat and lazy in his position and knew their position beneath him in the totem pole...

Sadly that was not what had happened.

Not yet...

His light fray eyes would only continued to narrow in annoyance at that. The mere thought that he would have to wait filling the air between them with a foul scent that only he could pick up.

''You know what I mean, old man...I have better things to do than having to witness your failures, or worse, listen to them while wasting my time. What is it now? The church giving you problems? Or is the Inquisition finally picking the slack and found you are not as pious as you tried to be..?''

The overweight eleventh knight of the round could only stare at him as if he had swallowed something terrible, his face growing scarlet, veins popping out on the exposed flesh of his bald head as the man was struggling whether to stand up from his seat or if he could even do that without tumbling the entire thing over.

In the end the man decided to merely hold onto his staff and grab it all the more tightly.

Disappointing Mordred for the lack of spine inside all that mass of fat, robbed to vent his frustration in a more...direct manner.