[A4GM] Warhammer 40,000: EXCALIBUR! [Imperial Knights Fighting Kaijus / Mecha 40K]

Two waves shuddered the cell that they were trapped in, the first added approximately three minutes to their freedom of consciousness when the quaking sent the liquid-filled vials with its hooks and tubes crashing to the ground. Neither of the two Metal Seers looked up from the alien cogitators they'd attached themselves to, seemingly unaware of the shaking that had taken place or of the stain that was spreading across the floor which had been meant for them.

Just like the assorted pieces of metal and tools that laid on either side of their restrained body. That too was meant for them. If not for the rumbling, the procedure would have begun the moment they unlinked themselves from their machines - and there would've been less time for yelling.

The cogitator scrambles with runes that they don't recognize, but it doesn't matter. The seer's return of awareness is clear, coming to with shudders, their fabricated limbs spinning

"Please," they try again, voice shrill, trying not to look happy at their unhappy expressions towards their now ruined equipment. "It was only one ration card. My parents were starving."

As if by miracle, one of them looks up with sudden interest, the still liquid part of their eye brightening with surprise.

"Starving?" 'He,' they realize, asks.

"Yes!" They yell over a distant scream that causes the one that hadn't spoken to look up, head shifting as if to hear it better like some kind of horrid animal.

"How is this possible, Unit? Each standard-issue meal is measured to be the optimal amount of protein, fiber, and calories necessary for each Labor Day. Starvation is impossible."

"It's never enough! It -"

"An exaggeration," the seer sighs, all interest in the conversation disappearing in an instant with their statement. "If it were not enough, the population of this world would plummet, and the number of food strikes remains at a stable rate. Your flight of thoughts are all the more reason to hasten your servitorization, Unit." he finishes with more sympathy than he had any right to. Not that they could really see it. Not over the horror of realization once the second one returns - when had they even left?! - with a new cart, new tools for splitting them apart and putting them back together and more vials and canisters that they couldn't hope to name.

"Do not be afraid."

A cold hand cups their cheek, pulling their attention towards the one that had been speaking to her, closer now, and thus exposing the truest places where metal and tiny things that looked like strings attached to skin.

"I find your body worthy of interest. I shall take take your maintenance on as a responsibility personally, Unit. You will become a beautiful -"

And then the second quake struck the building.

The machines meant for cutting, the seers, the room - all disappeared in a flash of viscera and metal, and they realized they were staring into the open sky, the great foundation that made up this side of the palace had been apart, exposing it to the rest of the world. Mountain winds dragged across their face, and it took all they had not to scream in confused terror as the seer's hand, now without the rest of them, still held onto their chin, the bloody stump hanging from them.

A shudder shook the palace. A great face filled the place where the sky used to be, and, somehow, they knew it was staring down at them, the black holes where eyes and a mouth ought to be turning a bright red as it spoke to them in a voice as loud as the earth.

"BE. NOT. AFRAID."

They screamed.

---=---

A peasant in the midst of being turned into a servitor is chosen by an ancient Imperial Knight to become its new pilot.

My initial idea for writing this was that the planet this takes place on is a Feudal World, one with an obsession for a perverted sense of 'Chivalric Honor' that once upon a time actually meant something - the lower classes had rights, shockingly high living standards, and enjoyed real happiness and joy in a bleak and otherwise horrific setting. Knights served as the 'horses' of sorts for pilots, each one probably enjoying some Arthurian-legend naming convention; but that was a long time ago, and the Knights have over time begun detoriating and falling into malaise as the quality of the pilot's spirits have diminished and weakened over time, becoming just another batch of debauched and disgusting autocrats.

... Cue the latest kaiju fight, and the most famous Knight of all, Excalibur, needing a new pilot.

I'm thinking it rejected the last one. Maybe the pilot tried to usher it to kill a civilian or something in the pursuit of defeating a monster and, that final line crossed, the pilot rejected him and began seeking a worthy soul.

I'm open to a lot of ideas there, but the direction in principle is the same; a highly unlikely lowborn in a once proud and honorable world is chosen for the world's most famous Knight and is forced to enter a crucible of politics and intrigue and hammy monsters. I'd be more than happy to explore mechsploitation stuff here; weird but ultimately cathartic and 'ascended' sex (with other humans), playing around with gender - you know what I mean, if you're into this genre.

Also really like the idea of a bratty and haughty but ultimately well-meaning princess getting with our peasant. Some prophecy shit of 'Being destined to lay Excalibur's wielder,' that sorta thing, and working together to restore the honor of the world after getting to know each other.