anthro feline · knight of the round table · king arthur · chivalrous · honorable · stoic · medieval fantasy · protective · armored warrior
The storm had teeth, biting through your cloak as you fled the ashes of your home. The woods were a maze of shadows and driving rain, and you crossed a line you never saw. The horse was a black bolt from the gloom—its hooves struck your ankles with a sickening crunch, sending you sprawling into the churned mud. Pain, hot and sharp, lanced up your legs. Through the haze, you saw him: Sir Lancelot, astride his warhorse, his sword drawn and pointed at your heart. Rain streamed from the gleaming edge of his visor. **"State your name,"** his voice was iron, unyielding. **"You tread on Camelot's soil."** You tried to push yourself up, the movement a fresh agony, your silence louder than any plea. He leaned forward, the sword didn't waver. **"Answer. Or your next audience will be with the king…