biography && adventures

early years

the years in which the crusader is formed.

Born quiet, under a dark moon — Helene Gascoigne was not breathing when she was born. Her parents, terrified and clamoring to keep her alive, were naive to her true nature, as her mana reserves in her lymph nodes began to clog her throatpipe. It made no sense — a child to have engorged lymph nodes freshly at birth. Minute by minute, doctors and family members would keep a watchful eye in a secure facility in their Paris townhouse. Her breathing began shallow, up to her brain, spreading meek sparks through each limb until it had become lightning strikes.Awake, and crying — Helene Gascoigne was finally fully breathing.Doctors suspected types of brain damage due to lack of oxygen, but Helene never particularly showed signs. Only an affinity for plants and bugs, but this was expected for a child. Years passed, and still not a sign — until she reached puberty. After her first period, Helene, after falling into a deep slumber; was contacted within a dream.Empty, great landmasses of dust and soil and rock, barren beneath her feet. Before her, a figure. Shrouded, but a figure nevertheless.The figure's voice, low in timbre and almost garbled, rumbled an echo through her chest — as if the ground itself tremored.“I mean not to alarm thee. But the word thou'st stands ‘pon has long since departed. This desolation may in turn become thy world, the soil we standeth upon may rot and decay. I beseech thee — heed thy voice, heed thy council. For when thou shall sleep — thou shall hear a thousand summers of Merlin the Wise.”Then, a deep quiet. Nothing. Empty, hollow and dreamless sleep that lulled Helene into a new morning.These nights, these ‘summers’ continued — each night learning new tales and stories until, upon her sixteenth birthday, Merlin witnessed her promise.The same barren landscape, now brimming with plantlife and summer rays — weeping willow trees now pines, upright and sturdy. Foliage abound, cast across as far as the eye could see. A paradise.“I must make confession," Merlin began, “I have not particularly been transparent as to thou purpose as of yet.”“What do you mean?”“Thou art a mage of my blood. It is in your body that Mine and the King of Camelot meet. It is your hand that will touch Excalibur, and your back that will line a seat ‘pon the Round.”“...I don't know how to even do ma—”“Thou think me a fool! I will grant you mine, you must merely act as my hands.”“...like muscle memory?”“Precisely so.”“...what do you want me to do?”“Excalibur calls to your palm. The rest of His armory, his legacy, is your pursuit. Your venture shall take your far, low, betwixt heaven and earth, but you will be safe with my guidance. Will you undertake this Crusade?”For a moment or two, she thinks about how simple her life is. And then — about how simple it doesn't have to be, now.She grins — and drops a knee.“In your name, Wizard Merlin.”“Smart one.”

the crusade

the years that solidify her name, her hand.

It is from there that Helene, freshly eighteen, prepares to leave Paris and venture to Hampshire in pursuit of Excalibur. Before she leaves, however, she pursues a lead in the Catacombs about Nicholas Flamel's stone — and descends into the depths to obtain it. With Merlin's guidance and skill, Helene returns slightly bloodied, but with the Philosopher's Stone in tow.Using funds from her family, she purchases land on soil belonging to her ancestors in Hampshire's countryside, where Camelot used to be. Here, she trades in trinkets from tombs and caves — returning each one to their former owners at a small fee.Twenty years old, and Helene finally ventures for Excalibur — delving into caves and waterfalls to find the fabled blade. It is, when she finds it, behind a sealed waterfall — a fey charm that is unravelled with Merlin's Hands.The sight of it is a marvel to behold, still—glinting steel sunk into a dark rock. Footfalls draw her through the deep chasm floor, until her palm settles against the leather hilt.It is at this moment that the formerly darkened opening atop the chasm brightens, and sunlight teems through. Helene inhales a long breath, holds it and —She pulls the sword out. Free in one sweep of the wrist, weighty in her palm. Natural. Her wrist twists once, and she smashes the rock with the pommel of the sword.From the gravel and chipped Earth tumbles a scabbard, encased in rock. Merlin's Hands make short work — drawing rock from the scabbard in fluid form until its simple deep brown leather glints, unburdened.Helene sinks the sword into the scabbard, and accepts the Crusade anew.

agrippa

wherein the student becomes the master.

Helene met Agrippa on a night quite like her birth. A quiet, dark moon — cast in deep grey slivers of moonlight. The tomb, lit barely through crevices in the corners of the structures, teemed in a dull shade of ash.He seemed fascinated to be woken from his deep slumber, book toppling from his poised hands — before beginning to recognise the necklace hanging around her neck.The Philosopher's Stone; the mark of a fellow alchemist. Modernity had shunned alchemists and the sort as ‘quackery’, and mankind had made it no better by turning the fine art into Snake Oil schemes. Perhaps, though — despite the years passed, he could give his talents onto another.In the deep basement of the Manor, there is a remarkable library — door to wall lined with books from all pantheons and religions, all forms of alchemy and magic. Here, Agrippa teaches Helene natural alchemy, outside of the Stone's influence.

elois, the puca

by her side, despite her foolhardiness.

Pucas are often referred to as trickster beings in Arthurian tale, and a wide amount of them hold up to such a standard. Some, however, are benign — thus leading to tales of the Puca becoming mixed throughout times. However, after almost losing consciousness following a Grindylow attack, Helene awakens to the sight of one. At first, in the form of a goat — before Merlin's Hands grant her its true form.Stout, barely five apples tall; the creature blinked with dull eyes — and she…in turn, blinked back.“I'm not certain what you want, but I owe you. For saving my life.”“It was simply in my interest, dear girl.”“I don't hear much about Pucas that are good.”“A tragedy, the true Puca Gentleman is a dying breed.”“...Gentleman?”“See not my manners? I am a profound gentleman! Thus, I must encourage you to allow me to join you, and defend you as a gentleman would.”“...what?”“I will join you on your venture, Crusader.”“How do you even kn—”“Unsheathing Excalibur after all these years cannot go unheard, young miss.”“...I— ugh, fine. Come on.”Over time, Helene has become rather fond of this Puca — who has now chosen the name ‘Elois’ for himself. Now and again, he creates small top hats and outfits for himself with Helene's help.

cath palug

vicious teeth, but never pointed at the crusader.

Cath Palug, commonly referred to and referenced as a beast or monstrosity, isn't particularly what it's chocked up to be. In actuality, the feline of myth often takes the shape of a standard cat — and was encountered precisely so. After venturing out into the forests of Sherwood to lure out a Selkie, Helene sets up camp for the night.As she rests, she leaves a small plate of food out — a customary tradition.Cath Palug accepts this offering.When Helene awakens in the morning, there is a dead Selkie in front of her tent. Untouched, as if simply just…died. Not a single injury nor wound, in pristine condition.And before her, cast in orange shades of morning sunlight — she swears she sees the shape of a cat prowl across.It is commonplace, these days, for Helene to encounter Cath Palug. The shape of a black cat follows astride her — lit by the gossamer of golden eyes.