Metalocalypse Characters in an AU Medieval Times-Style Setting
Characters and Basic Roles… more to come in an in-depth AO3 post up later! I also have some stories in the works!
Skwisgaar: Experienced knight, often in the hero role. Toki's idol and reluctant mentor. He has no wish to progress farther, loves all his groupies. He's quietly pleased how much of his advice Toki has taken to heart and how much he reminds him of himself as a new knight. Skwisgaar and Toki's battles are by far the most entertaining to watch in the show.
Toki: New knight, trained by Skwisgaar primarily. Toki has loved the show ever since he'd first seen it years ago. He has had to audition a few times to prove himself. Toki wants Skwisgaar's respect and to be the newest hero knight. Very chivalrous, has a crush on Lavona, one of the Queens.
Murderface: Head of security, loves medieval history & lore. Joined the castle too late to be a knight, but sees himself as the overall defender of the castle. He is working on getting his Ph. D. in Medieval Studies and does freelance research for the castle to improve its authenticity in tournaments and dungeon equipment/methodology. To earn extra money, he and his jeweler fiance Jennifer have a side hustle - they run a bouncy house rental business called "Jumpin' Jenny's."
Nathan: Head Knight, often portrays the villain. Frequently breaks weapons in fights. Is a loud but fair leader and asks a lot from his knights. Holds a torch for Abigail, who is a former Queen and now a lead bartender. They used to have some pretty spicy dialog during her time onstage and he misses her, so he teases her when she's in the arena doing her cocktail rounds... and throws her at least one flower every show.
Pickles: Charismatic and enthusiastic server, coach. Pickles has trained about 30% of the servers, scores big tips and generally loves his job. Pickles' girlfriend is a quiet, pretty server named Rachel, whom he took under his wing in training. She is as quiet as he is exuberant. They spend every day off they can birdwatching.
MMA: The MMA has been the lead horse trainer at the castle for many years. Called George by his friends and coworkers, he grew up on a Texas ranch surrounded by horses and heirloom breeds of cattle. He's famously tough on his staff, but babies all the horses in his care, giving them pet names and seeing to their every need. It is well known that he treats his stallions and mares 10x better than his stable crew.
Magnus: Magnus is a former knight out of fighting commission due to too many injuries incurred in the show. He used to be the go-to villain and was known for his threatening presence and swift, strong movements despite his slim build. It’s been two years since he’s been in the arena doing knight fights, but he’s healed a little and found a good new job as a knowledgeable and capable bartender at the castle. He is now saving up money to purchase an old Victorian home that he has dreams of restoring. He and Abigail (who trained him) are secretly dating.
Abigail: Abigail is a former Queen and present bartending coach. After giving acting and modeling a break, she exchanged her crown for a cocktail shaker and was gratified to see her paychecks grow exponentially. Magnus has been a surprising [secret boy-]friend and her first trainee, having also come from a performing background and into the realm of bartending. They also share a distinct dislike for Nathan. The pair have bonded over their love of Victorian houses, and Abigail is inspired by Magnus' dream of buying and restoring his therapist's Queen Anne style Victorian home. She's a sucker for architectural history.
Charles: Castle falconer who enjoys taking meticulous care of his three birds of prey. He respects his birds and is actively training his teenage daughter Miranda to be his assistant falconer. She loves learning from her father and spending time with him, especially when it comes to training, exercising and feeding the falcons. She especially loves talking to the public about “her” birds and sharing fun falconry facts. Charles loves to see her so enthusiastic about something he cares so much about, too. Being together with her at work with his birds is his favorite thing.
more Husband and Father Nathan Explosion + Wife and Mother Abigail Remeltindtdrinc. and a little Pickles cameo. I think I should give this child a name because I love her
Some Metalocalypse Doomstar Requiem era fanart I did back during the pandemic. Inspired by some cool looking pulp novel I’d love to read; I love how dramatic and scandalized the characters look in what has to be a riveting story!
Enjoy these watercolors from another time. No AI here, just a poor Mantis’ attempt at art, inspired by a visionary show’s musical spectacular.
Summary: An attention starved deputy attempts to play interference, only to bring you two closer together.
CWs: Mild workplace harassment, but nothing too over the top
Word Count: 2.4k
Notes: More indulgent HCs ahead 😎 Like Gus having anger issues and scars to lick because I’m untethered and my thirst knows no bounds
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Friday evening is the light at the end of a very, very long tunnel. Despite everyone being incredibly welcoming and helpful, these past couple of weeks have been mentally exhausting. Between the training, certification tests, and the mental labor of committing everyone’s names and odd little mannerisms to memory, your brain has all but liquefied. So tonight you resolve to treat yourself with Chinese takeout and a bottle of Disaronno.
An hour or so and a long, relaxing shower later, your food arrives. You happily tuck into your dinner, sipping your meticulously crafted cocktail as you lose yourself in the intrigue of a rerun of Kitchen Nightmares. It’s a taste of home, a routine you developed during college that stuck. All it takes to make the worries of the week disappear is a fancy drink, some takeout, and watching Gordon Ramsay annihilate a chef whose ego is thrice his size. The night continues on this way, the tension seeming to melt away without a hitch.
Disaster strikes about three drinks in, when a text to your best friend back home about the handsome sheriff you can’t seem to shake leads to a dangerous line of thought; maybe I should look him up. You open a new browser tab on your phone and type his name in without a second thought, having just enough alcohol on board to quell whatever doubts you might have about invading a coworker’s privacy. Not much comes up, as you expected. No social media, nothing salacious. But you do discover that he played baseball in high school, along with some painfully adorable photos of a teenage Gus. Nothing much has changed about him, really, except he filled out and grew into those giant hands of his.
Scrolling on, you find that he was injured on the job a few years back. Shot in the shoulder during a routine traffic stop gone wrong while he was still a city cop. Apparently he came out of it with a commendation, garnering both sympathy and future support for his bid for sheriff. You make a mental note to ask him about it, and any other old war stories you might be able to pull from him. The alcohol pushes your mind from that chaste inquiry to something else entirely–how sturdy he is with those broad shoulders, how much you’d love to let him show off his scars if only you could trace them with your lips.
Mercifully, you pass out on the couch before your mind can wander any further. You awaken the next morning huddled up under the blanket you’d pulled off the back of the couch, your phone discarded on the rug under the coffee table. It takes you a moment to come to fully, but all remnants of last night’s less than professional yearning have been pushed out of your mind…for now, and the rest of the weekend goes by without incident.
That wouldn’t be the last time you thought of Gus, however. With a few weeks of training under your belt, your supervisor cuts you loose to start working on your own. Your new responsibilities, along with a big to-do about drug activity in the area, have kept you and Gus independently busy. A few calls came in requesting the sheriff’s comment on the recent drug bust, which you took as your reason to bother Gus, but every time you went to his office you found it empty. So you left notes–his direction, as he allegedly never reads emails–that were strictly professional at first. But as they went unanswered, you began to leave him little prodding statements as well.
“I thought we were friends ☹️”
“If you don’t answer me I’m putting glitter in your air vents”
And on and on the dance continued. The radio silence continues for about a month until you eventually decide to barge into his office to give him a piece of your mind. The light is off but you see a silhouette in the window, giving you a brief glimmer of hope. But what you find when you open the door is a deputy who claims, once you question him, to be leaving a report for Gus. Initially you think nothing of the crumpled sticky note in his hand, your focus instead centered on the unusual circumstances you found this deputy in.
You hadn’t met him before, and you thank your lucky stars for that. He was a bit older, nearer to forty than Gus and clearly attempting to hide that fact. His type is easy to spot: short and undeniably angry about it; overly eager to prove himself better than everyone around him; pompous to the point of being insufferable, despite often being uninformed. Nothing about him appealed to you, but the look in his eyes said that was not a mutual feeling.
“Hey, you’re the new records clerk, right? Good to meet you, I’ve heard plenty about you.” He says with a smile that’s a little too friendly, and it makes you want to retch. That flirtatious tone in his voice has you backing out of Gus’s office immediately, trying to put some distance between you. Putting on your best customer service voice, you begrudgingly respond. “Hah, yeah, that’s me! Just came to give something to Gus but I gotta get back to it. See you around!”
Disappearing into the hallway, you beeline for the records office in hopes you’ll be able to slip away without any further conversation. It works, albeit temporarily. A few hours later the deputy saunters into your office, spotting you and immediately walking over. While it was endearing when Gus did it, this was an unwelcome intrusion and you make damn sure he can tell by the look on your face that he isn’t welcome.
“Can I help you?” You keep your tone even, though a hint of malice manages to sneak past.
“Yeah, you could give me your number.”
The smug smile on his face is enough to make you consider whether a felony charge is worth it just to shut him up for good. You roll your eyes at him, turning back to your computer monitor without a second of hesitation. “No, thank you, I would prefer not to get tangled up in intraoffice politics.”
Noticing the discomfort in your tone, your supervisor, Sam, approaches to break up this little display. The deputy looks every bit the wounded puppy, as if you were the one being unreasonable and harsh.
“Is he always like this?” you ask, looking up at Sam with a grimace.
“Yep, you’re not the first and you probably won’t be the last. Gus can’t stand him but the police union makes it hard to get rid of him. Let me know if he bothers you again,” Sam adds with a sympathetic look, resting her hand on your shoulder for a brief moment before returning to her desk. Oh good, he’s one of those. Of course you had heard horror stories, everyone had, but you never imagined you’d be caught up in one. You make a mental note to keep yourself busy and avoid walking around alone, lest you open yourself up for more unwelcome advances.
The end of the day can’t come soon enough, and you nearly sprint out of the building to your car. Looking around for Gus’s cruiser or his truck, you find neither and quietly curse yourself for getting attached. In those quiet moments by yourself, something clicks into place. What if Gus hasn’t been ignoring me, what if this is all thank to Deputy Fuckface and his apparent inability to handle anyone other than him getting attention from the female staff? Resolving to test this theory tomorrow, you get into your car and head home for the evening.
The next day you slip into Gus’s office once again, leaving a sticky note on his monitor that simply says “Maybe you should try leaving shit alone. Or is that as hard as taking no for an answer?” Hook, line, and sinker. You’ve got your catch. The deputy comes bursting through the records office door, sparing one positively seething glare in your direction as he heads straight to dispatch. Sam scurries over and leans against your desk, eyes locked on the door to dispatch as she speaks in a hushed tone. “What’d you do to him?”
“Uh, nothing, I just told him to leave shit alone. Y’know how I complained that Gus hasn’t gotten back to me on a comment for the local paper? Yeah, shithead’s been stealing my notes.”
You turn to Sam with a smug little grin but she simply shakes her head. “Don’t rile him up, please? He’s got a pet dispatcher that’s in love with him and the last thing you want is to get her in here. She’s as bad as he is.”
The high of retribution is a brief one, and you find yourself nodding in response with a look on your face that’s reminiscent of a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Yeah, yeah… Can you at least give me Gus’s duty cell so I can get an answer on this stuff?” Sam gives you a quick nod and returns to her desk, sending you an instant message with the phone number. You save it in your contacts and tell yourself to sleep on it instead of letting your emotions get the better of you. Sam has your back, you tell yourself, and you haven’t been here long enough to start making waves.
Despite it all, the day passes by normally. You get into your car and turn the heater on, letting your frozen fingers thaw a bit before heading home. Your frazzled nerves have calmed somewhat, but Gus’s number is burning a hole in your pocket. Without further ado, you dial it. It rings three times without an answer, an agonizing few seconds you spend considering if you should just give it all up and head back home. But just as you’re about to hang up, you hear his voice.
“Gilbert-“
“Oh hey, uh… Hi, Gus, it’s me-“
You curse yourself for that eloquent introduction, but he doesn’t give you time to linger on it.
“Jesus, you had me convinced you just up and quit on me. Where’ve you been?” His tone betrays a hint of concern that makes warmth bloom in your chest. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you chide internally, it’s not like he said he missed you.
“Nowhere, I’ve been wondering the same thing about you. It’s been…what, a month? I left you note after note about these news hounds asking to talk to you and you never got back to me.” Likewise, your voice hides a sense of hurt that makes him wonder if this is more than just a professional call. You hear him sigh and adjust in his seat, the sound of creaking leather the only thing breaking the silence between you for what feels like an eternity.
“Sweetheart, you know I’ve been busy with all this drug bust shit. And I haven’t heard a damn thing from ya-“
A scoff from your end cuts him off, and you can practically feel his annoyance flaring. “No, I know. That’s the kicker. So there’s this deputy, didn’t catch his name because I was too pissed, but I caught him in your office when I went to leave you another note. He’s been stealing them off your desk.”
Another stretch of silence, another moment to consider whether you should just cut your losses.
Gus leans forward in his office chair, running his fingers through his hair as he grapples with the news you just dropped in his lap. Part of him is relieved that you called, thankful that he hadn’t misread the situation or pushed you too far. But the other part–the one he tried his best to hide, the part that constantly simmered under his cool exterior, that quiet and abiding rage–threatened to consume him.
“Fuckin’ Christ-“
“Gus, please, just… I mean it’s fucked up, yes, but that’s not all I called for.” You plead, that façade of professionalism slipping away entirely. This was no longer work related, no longer a complaint about another employee’s behavior. No, this was personal. Emotional. And that realization quelled his anger for the moment.
“Alright then, out with it. What’cha need, sweetheart?”
“Nothing, really, it’s- Look, I wanted to apologize if I said something untoward that made you feel like you needed to avoid me. That was never my intention.”
Gus breaks out in laughter, a sound that both wraps around you like a warm blanket and sets your heart racing. “What’d I say?”
You pause, expecting him to continue. But he wants an answer, so he asks again.
“C’mon, sweetheart, what’d I say? Hm?”
Caught between feeling like you’re being scolded and floating on the high of hearing his voice, hearing him address you with such open fondness, it takes you a moment to piece together your response.
“That you hadn’t heard anything from me.”
“That’s right. You think I’d just give you the cold shoulder if you pissed me off? Honey, you got way too much faith in me. No, if anything I thought I’d run you off myself.”
You both laugh, the tension on the line immediately dissipating as you lean forward to rest your forehead against your steering wheel. God, all of this for nothing. It leaves you emotionally exhausted, but it’s worth it just to hear him again.
“Yeah, no, hardly. But uh…I know you’re probably busy so I’ll let you go. Talk to you tomorrow?”
Suddenly feeling sheepish, you try to cut the conversation short. Gus can sense this, along with the quiet exasperation in your voice, so as much as he’d love to keep you, he begrudgingly agrees.
“Yeah, talk to you tomorrow, sweetheart. Hey, one more thing. Is this your personal number?”
“…Yeah, why?”
“You mind if I call you some time for a round’a drinks and some pool? Not really keen on keepin’ my duty cell on me all the time, I’d rather give you my personal number.”
Your heart is positively thundering in your ears, so loudly you nearly miss the second half. All rational thought seems to have left your brain, so your response surprises even you.
“Name a time and a place, I’ll be there with bells on. G’night, Gus.”
Before you can further embarrass yourself, you hang up and throw your phone in your purse. The quiet of the car settles deep in your bones, letting you reflect on the unusual comfort he seems to bring you without even really trying. And was that a date? It couldn’t be, right? But either way, you can’t wipe the goofy grin from your face as you drive home.
on the one hand assuming Lex and Mercy are fucking is dismissive of the complicated relationship between them and implies that Lex fucking Luthor would stupidly open himself up to a lawsuit when he could have just as easily simply Not Hired the woman to work for him and. Is kinda just sexist to assume that every hench girl is sleeping with her respective villain
HOWEVER. Superman the Animated Series was very horny so. They probably were.
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