Red, the first colour in his mind was red, Sir Ton was unsure whether that was important or not. Still it was his first conscious thought.
Pain lanced through him as he tried to move, al along his back he felt the lightning touch of protesting nerves and muscles, breathing was difficult, painful even. “Sir Ton? Sir Ton? What happened?! Sir Ton answer me!” Morgana’s voice filtered through the haze of pain and the noise of his heartbeat, a groan was all he could muster in order to reply. He opened his eyes, regretting the motion immediately, yet keeping them open nonetheless. “Sir Ton? Please reply using proper words.” An edge of worry coloured Morgana’s voice. “I am here, Morgana.” It only took him three attempts to speak, damage must have been less than he felt. Carefully he attempted lifting a hand, the pain was decreasing, probably he had only passed out long enough to miss the initial numbness, now undergoing the surge of pain that usually followed such a state. He caught his breath, his lungs filling with sweet life giving air, despite his chest burning with the effort. He wriggled his toes, his legs were sore, but seemed undamaged, he had been lucky. “Sir Ton, what is your status?” Morgana still sounded somewhat concerned. “I’ll live, battered and bruised, possibly some cracked ribs, not bleeding, confused, disoriented mainly.” The world was slowly turning into focus, he probably had a concussion. Getting on hands and knees was nothing short of torture, he did so anyway.”Good, you had me worried there, tell me is there any indication of your location, any marks or numbers for you to identify where you are? ” Familiarity, she must have been genuinely concerned, a strange idea to be sure. “Bulkhead markings are, faded at best, the walls are shod with metal, hexagonal bolts, looks old, flat floor plating, not standardized grates, there’s a numeral on the wall, VII hall, deck,,IX , north. Does that clarify? ” Ninth deck, he was deep within the ship, near the bottom, how far had he fallen? “Oh, Good, you should sit and let your vision stabilize, take a breath, wait for the pain to simmer down, how is your head?” His head, well truth was he did not even want to answer that. “I believe I have a concussion, dull throbbing ache aside, either that or the damage is more severe, I think I hit a pipe on the way down?” Soft music started playing, an old earth piece concerning warriors readying themselves and each other for battle, Morgana probably meant it as a soothing gesture. “You did, I moved it there when you fell, it did not perform as I had hoped, do you like the music? My son used to like it, I think.” She trailed off near the end, and once more Sir Ton was left to wonder what on earth must have possessed Arthur to do whatever it is he must have done to his wife. “It is,,nice Morgana I think I asked this before, but why this route? ” He tried to distract both her and himself whilst he got to his feet, resting now was probably a dumb idea, actually he should just turn back and deal with this situation later. “Because it is, ironically the safe road, Ton I would not blame you if you turned back, it is somewhat a wild goose chase after all.” Her voice was softer, a more gentle edge to it. “No, where must I go next?” He was a knight, he would not give up, he would save the damsel in distress even if it was the last thing he would do.
“Knight Commander, I would like to set all the Camelot’s occupants as hostile please.” Mordred sighed, the very moment Gwenn34 had come to the same conclusion as him she immediately assumed that it must mean all their former comrades must now be hostile. And considering the way Arthur had acted it was sadly not far fetched. “Please just call me Mordred Gwenn, and don’t worry too much about that, they are dead, mostly.” So far they had only encountered the one living Knight, and he had been a dangerous one. “I meant literally all occupants that did not hail from the Sword of Damocles Sir, I believe that there may be more dangerous things on board.” Mordred stopped pacing, and stared at his reflection, his suit was well maintained, decorated, somewhat ornate. He hated how it looked, it was by far not to his tastes, his former suit had been more to his liking, made to move easily, fluently even. He had earned that suit just as he had this one, through bravery, acts of martial prowess, and advancement as a knight. Still he did not like his armour of command, or the helm, he felt it made him look like a pompous prince or king.
“Something more dangerous than a mad king?” His eyes were drawn to his armoire, the dark wood with brass plates, simple and functional, Holding his original suit of armour, and his off duty tunics, the thing was by all means out of place in a commanders quarters, it stood out like a loaf of bread in a pastry store, or perhaps as a red brick wall in a marble palace. “Sir Mordred there are many things more dangerous in the shipping manifest, for one the Camelot is reported to have war beasts in suspension, if the tubes were to break it would soon be a charnel house.” Mordred laughed, but there was no mirth to it. “It already is Gwenn, more than three hundred dead knights and supporting personnel seems to me as the very definition of a charnel house, Gwenn, run a diagnostic on my old armour, I will put this suit to rest for a while.” Calmly he disengaged the locks on the gauntlets, breaking the air tight seal for the first time in days, his H.U.D. automatically warning him life support and such would be unable to protect him in case of a hull breach. “Sir it would seem the old suit is in prime condition, shall I transfer?” Mordred smiled, a suit without Gwenn would be useless to him, the formality of the question was however mandatory. “Please do, don’t change any settings though, I prefer you just the way you are.” Mordred was done pretending to be something he was not, he had donned his new armour just in case Arthur would have been here, so it would show his station, so he would have been proud of his former squire, instead he had tried to kill him.