Leg Post 42 explores the history of the Holy Grail, opening with the WriterGod missing his inkpot while writing. On Algernon, some time before the events of Space Camelot, Princess Thomasina defies her father, the River God, by trying to be more masculine. She then meets the effeminate demon male named Lunderless. They travel together before Lunderless confesses that he has fallen in love with Princess Thomasina because she is so masculine, however there is a curse that comes with his love. High Imp then appeared and offered to make an exchange. He would remove the curse if they would steal the inkpot from the WriterGod, which Lunderless does and grants the inkpot to High Imp. To prevent the curse, High Imp transforms both of them into chimera beasts and they birth the Questing Beast. Memnoch then arrives and he also wants to defy the WriterGod and gets the pair to steal one of the WriterGod's favourite birds. In the future, King Arthur, Sir Bedivere and Sir Greene Knight are discussing the uses of the plants that The Black Knight provided in Leg Post 39 and Sir Bedivere believes he could create sapient turnips and even sapient cheese, much to Arthur's delight. Then an announcement arrives that Sir Robin Dagonet has found the holy treasure. Arthur fears he has found the Holy Grail but it turns out that he actually found The Holy Quail instead.
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SPACE CAMELOT: ONCE UPON A TIME[]
"Once upon a time, a princess and a devil fall in love."
The scritching of quill on parchment ceases, as the WriterGod considers the words he has just penned. He appears as an unassuming old man, whose face cannot be clearly seen. While these opening words seem a touch trite, perhaps they convey just what mood and tone this narrative deity intends; but who can know?
He takes a moment to scratch the head of his pet, an exotic winged creature from one of his favorite planets, before dipping his quill in the inkpot again-- Except that the inkpot is no longer there. Presumably the HorseGod has taken it for a beer stein again.
You see, the self-styled Eternal Narrative Pantheon slums it on the crystalline Phortress of Phractal, much to the eponymous Phractal's discontent. While Phractal comports himself pretty solemnly (despite being a weird-looking crystalline entity with as many facets as space and time have, as suits a deity of all dimensionality), the same cannot be said for all of his unwanted tenants. Eternius the Omnarrator for instance (the nominal head of the narrative deities) comes off as a rather ineffectual, lazy, pompous man. HorseGod - who got into the ranks of the narrative deities on the merits of his wit and diplomatic skills - is widely regarded as the multiverse's best party planner, and frequently books the Phortress for various bacchanalias, causing Phractal no end of consternation.
The WriterGod is a serene fellow who causes no trouble, however. Indeed, he is not even usually here. At the moment he is, however, and he seems unperturbed by the loss of his inkpot. He merely reaches into a drawer full of inkpots and takes one out, before setting to writing again.
***
Cut to Algernon, a few decades before the events of Space Camelot.
Once upon a time, a princess and a devil fall in love. Well, this actually happens rather more than ONCE upon a time. In point of fact, it seems to be rather frequent that princesses are falling in love with beings they ought not to, such as rogue knights, dragons, or plumbers. But in this particular time, there are a particular princess and a particular devil who fall in love.
Princess Thomasina: Whoa, wait, just like that? I have better standards than falling in love just because the script tells me to!
Ugh, primadonna characters. Fine. So here we see Thomasina, tomboyish daughter of a river spirit on Algernon. She has hair like seaweed cropped short and light blue skin. She wears coral armor that doesn't bare any flesh nor accentuate any of her feminine assets; it's a rather sensible suit of armor, much like a man might wear.
Naturally, she gets a lot of flack for that.
River Spirit: Thomasina, won't you get with the times? You're embarrassing the family!
Princess Thomasina: But I wouldn't embarrass you by dressing like a trollop?
River Spirit: Trollops are respectable here! Your mother and sisters are trollops. Our neighbors are trollops. If I were a woman, I'd be a trollop!
Princess Thomasina: Bah, you're all horrible. I'm outta here. Ciao!
She stalks off. However, since she's following the river, her father can speak to her easily, his voice carrying rebukes to her almost constantly. She finally throws caution to the wind and walks away perpendicular to the river, leaving her father's influence far behind.
Of course, she gets lost rather quickly, as she is half-river spirit, and not very attuned to the world beyond the waterways.
Princess Thomasina: Oi! You don't have to be rude about it.
You don't even know where you're going, do you?
Princess Thomasina: Sure I do! Away from that lot! Seems like I've got a good start already.
So...since you're being so tomboyish, does that mean you're going to act like the stereotypical man and not ask for directions?
Princess Thomasina: I'm a tomboy, not an idiot.
Oh... well then. If you take the next left--
Princess Thomasina: I just said I'm NOT an idiot. So that means I'm NOT going to take directions from a voice in my head!
.........
Lunderluss: Hullo there!
Princess Thomasina: Ack! Don't surprise a knight like that!
Her sword is out and at the new arrival's throat. He is a good head shorter than the princess, and dressed in a getup that's far too frilly for the tastes of anyone who abscribes to the River Spirit's patriarchal chauvinism. His pants are far too tight for anyone with any sense of propriety, and his top bares his midriff. A powdered wig sits atop his head, but doesn't hide the three horns protruding from his forehead. Nor do the frills hide the tail that twitches lazily behind him, ending in a spaded tip. His skin is colored light purple, but his face is currently a darker shade at the moment as he holds up his hands in startlement at the princess's aggressive reaction to his greeting.
Lunderluss: I say, do point that pigsticker somewhere else, will you? You might slash off a frill!
Princess Thomasina: Because heaven forbid such a horrid fate.
This said deadpan, as she rolls her eyes. Her sarcasm rolls right over the devil.
Lunderluss: I'm so glad to meet someone who understands!
Princess Thomasina: No, I wasn't--
Lunderluss: All the other devils in Tartarus make fun of me for it! Mockery and indignation! Can you imagine it? That such fine tailoring should be seen as anathema to them? It's FABulous, you know, truly excellent!
Princess Thomasina: Er...well, I can relate, I guess. My family doesn't approve of me not dressing like a trollop. But wait...you're from Tartarus? What are you doing on Algernon?
Lunderluss: Well, the cosmic hell is adjacent to basically everywhere, you know. It's really quite a fab way to get around! If one doesn't mind the hellish traffic jams. I just took the first exit off Stygian Interstate 66 I got to that wasn't blocked off by an impromptu brawl.
Princess Thomasina: ...you say that like brawls blocking off exits are common there.
Lunderluss: That's because they are! I passed nearly 2,000 exits before I found the one leading here! And I must say, it's quite beautiful here among these, they're called trees, right? I'm never going back!
The princess's heart softens towards the fellow, devil or no devil, and so they become traveling companions. Their friendship grows as they have various adventures together. Battles typically involve Thomasina dispatching all comers, whilst Lunderluss hides up in trees and hurls choice insults against their foes' fashion sense.
And one day...
Lunderluss: Thommy, DAHling, I have a confession to make.
Princess Thomasina: If this is another spiel about the getup those bandits were in--
Lunderluss: I rather think I love you.
Thomasina stops short, startled. After a moment, she turns to her companion.
Princess Thomasina: But...you're gay! (And uh...you DO know I'm a woman, right?)
Lunderluss: Oh totally, I'm straight as a slinky toy. Well, technically I swing both ways, but yeah, I generally prefer dudes! But let's face it, you're pretty close to a dude already.
The princess bites her lip, uncharacteristically hesitant.
Princess Thomasina: Lundy, I...I love you too. I just, I thought you could never--
Lunderluss: Happy day! Oh but there is the altogether MINOR issue of the curse.
Thomasina nods solemnly. She knows well that unions between devils and non-devils are oft cursed, doubly so if the non-devil is a princess.
A loud BAMF with accompanying sulfuric smell heralds the arrival of another demon, this one far more traditional looking and imposing than Lunderluss. He is tall and broad, standing on goat's legs, and has a long tail ending in a gleaming barb. Great black-feathered wings spread out behind him. Multiple horns of various sizes and shapes sprout from his head, and his eyes glow red. Fell power radiates him from him palpably.
Princess Thomasina: Who the devil?
She has drawn her sword in an instant, having successfully stifled her instinct to step back. Lunderluss is quailing behind her.
Lunderluss: It's...it's...!
High Imp: Calm yourself. If I wished you harm, you'd already be dead.
His voice is deep and sensuous, silk sheathing an iron fist. The voice of a tempter, with power to back it up.
Princess Thomasina: Then what do you want?
Her tone is wary.
High Imp: I can prevent the curse from falling upon your love.
Princess Thomasina: I know better than to trust the wiles of demons.
High Imp's eyes glance significantly at Lunderluss.
Princess Thomasina: What makes you think I trust any of his wiles? He always tries to prank me, and always fails!
Lunderluss: Oh my! But you are forgetting the one time that you fell for--
High Imp: A lover's spat. How quaint. Tell her, exile of Tartarus.
Lunderluss gulps.
Lunderluss: Thommy, that's...that's High Imp. He's the most powerful demon ever. More powerful than Memnoch, they say. And...he always honors his pacts. Always.
Princess Thomasina: A demon with a sense of honor?
High Imp: Do not be foolish. I am motivated not by honor, but by self-interest. If I skewered those with whom I pacted, I would soon have no one left willing to bargain.
In point of fact, High Imp, known as a pactmaker of incredible power, was once the mightiest of angels, known as High Angel. No, he isn't terribly creative when it comes to names. However, High Angel has not yet fallen in this time; this High Imp is from the future, for he jaunts through time and space as easily as breathing.
Princess Thomasina: Then what do you want in exchange for preventing the curse? What can we possibly offer you that you cannot obtain for yourself?
High Imp: Something belonging to the WriterGod.
Lunderluss: His old master...?
Princess Thomasina: I've never heard of him. You fear him, fiend?
Lunderluss: Don't mock him!
The flamboyant devil's protest is a frightened squeak. High Imp's eyes glint dangerously, but his reply is mild. Well, as mild as a hulking archdemon's reply ever can be.
High Imp: I fear no one. But I detest his presence, and would not come into it again without cause more sufficient than this.
Princess Thomasina: And what possession of his could you possibly want?
High Imp: One whose taking will spit in his eye. One whose bringing to Algernon will lead to a rise of glory for humanity among the stars...a grand and glorious monument to futility, for it will all end in hatred and death, millennia hence.
Thomasina resists a shudder. The subtle undercurrent of malevolent glee in High Imp's voice is chilling. She wonders if she'd prefer the usual sort of demon, who lies and prevaricates, over the awful truths High Imp shares.
Lunderluss: I...I'll do it.
Princess Thomasina: What? Lundy, I'm the warrior here, and I know you don't want to go into danger...
Lunderluss: It'll be a lark. Really. The WriterGod's pretty docile. And this quest isn't a battle. Sneaking is something I do quite well. But uh...grandiloquent descriptions aside, what is it you want me to take?
High Imp: His inkpot. Imbued with his ink, his spark of creativity, his will, it shall be a Grail to the future of Algernon...for as long as its future lasts.
***
Cut a few decades later to New Camelot, where Arthur's new castle and town are being constructed. Bedivere and the Greene Knight are sorting through the strange flora the Black Knight brought back.
Arthur: Rubbish!
The Greene Knight: Your majesty?
Arthur: None of this is suitable for cheese!
Bedivere: On the contrary, my king! Think of it...we could have cheeses that sing!
Arthur's eyes light up.
Arthur: Could I have a choir of singing cheeses?
Bedivere: Very possibly! Of course, I rather think turnips would be better. They're a hearty plant, after all, full of spirit...now imagine if they were literally spirited, and sapient!
Arthur: I don't know what sapient means, but I want you to do it... to the cheese. Not the turnips.
Bedivere looks put out for a moment. Then he perks up.
Bedivere: I can prototype the process on the turnips first! After all, we want to work out kinks in the process before we submit your valuable cheeses to it, yes?
Arthur: Excellent! That is why you're my smartest knight, Bedivere!
The Greene Knight: Not a very high bar, is that?
Arthur: What was that?
The Greene Knight: Nothing.
The doors to the building slam open, and in comes Sir Robin Dagonet, with a cheering crowd behind him. He is triumphantly carrying an ornate chest, that sparkles and gleams. Everyone's jaw, even Arthur's, drops.
Bedivere: Has he... has Sir Robin of all people...?
Sir Robin Dagonet: I HAVE FOUND THE SACRED TREASURE!
***
Cut to several decades ago. When Lunderluss returns from the Phortress of Phractal with the filched inkpot, High Imp bears it away to a place only he knows. But he does not leave without honoring his bargain. He transforms both devil and princess into chimeric creatures, with aspects of many animals. After all, they cannot be cursed for being a devil and princess who love each other, if they are not a devil and a princess.
The couple is surprised, but actually surprisingly content, for they had never been terribly comfortable in their original skins anyway. In due time Thomasina conceives, and gives birth to what will one day be known as the Questing Beast.
And one day they receive another infernal visitor.
Memnoch: My, my, my.
Lunderluss: Eek!
Thomasina: Oh, High Imp. You've gotten a haircut.
Lunderluss: Don't mock him--!
Memnoch: Do not toy with me, mortal. I am not as tolerant as that demon.
Thomasina: What do you want then?
Memnoch: I too have a task to lay upon you. Far be it from me to let High Imp spit in the WriterGod's eye without taking the opportunity to do so myself as well.
Thomasina: And in return?
Memnoch, the archdevil who rules the cosmic hell known as Tartarus, smiles coldly.
Memnoch: And in return, I let you live.
Lunderluss squeaks in terror. Thomasina is of half a mind to refuse Memnoch regardless and go down fighting, but she knows this would consign Lunderluss back to Tartarus.
Thomasina: Very well, Memnoch. What do you want?
Memnoch: The exotic winged pet the WriterGod keeps, that hies from one of his favorite planets...
***
Cut back to New Camelot. Everyone is staring in astonishment and disbelief at Sir Robin as he sets down the chest, beaming at everyone.
Black Knight: God save us from that fool, of all people, being immortal.
Bedivere: I'm half-convinced he's been immortal the whole time already, as many things as he's somehow survived...
Sir Robin Dagonet: BEHOLD!
He undoes the clasps of the chest and reaches in to pull out the sacred treasure.
Sir Robin Dagonet: THE HOLY QUAIL!
The exotic winged pet, from the WriterGod's favorite planet, squawks indignantly.