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Everything was on fire.

The ambush was stunning, to Nkosazana. Camelot was where they were supposed to be safe. Camelot was where they would regroup and train. Camelot was where they would stand their final defense against the darkness, and most of all, Camelot was where they would win.

It seemed fate had a different idea, overwhelming with a darkness and screams that were oppressive. Nkosazana was not prepared for this in the slightest, and her eyes widened in clear and obvious terror.

That was until one charged her, and Nkosazana screamed, fending it off with a nearby shield from someone who was missing a head--oh Great Knight he was missing his head--running in the direction of the Great Hall as fast as she was possibly capable of. Nkosazana was assisted by her long strides, perhaps, or the throng of fellow knights behind her, pushing against her and propelling her into the Great Hall, where she nearly fell to her knees at the sight.

Their people were diminished at best, discovered Nkosazana, warily. How could they ever stand a chance? So many were dead. Even more were already injured, it seemed, with how many knights were supporting someone else. In here, it was a mess. The air was so tense it almost smelled of the terror, and it took Nkosazana bottling all of her everflowing empathy to not start crying on the spot.

Going back out there, though, sounded even worse. Nkosazana glanced to the door, wondering how long it would be before they were breached here, too. Still, it seemed they were safe for now, and unlike Morgan, Nkosazana was in no state to be out for blood.

Gawain, though, said something that caught her attention, and her nervous eyes raised from the ground to him. Remain in the Great Hall and heal the injured. Yes. For her, this was the obvious choice. She would help those who came to the Great Hall, and not go back to where only death was waiting for her. Here, perhaps, she could stop other deaths, or at least ease all the suffering she saw around her.

That was something she was good at.

Nkosazana straightened herself out and got to work.

Jake knew things were bad, but to think they were THIS bad...
It was absolute chaos, with people running amok, screams, shouting, shadows materializing and consuming others...
Hell, everything was on fire too.

He knew he should do something as well, but he found himself frozen, unable to decide what he was supposed to do first. Of course he wanted to retaliate, but rushing headlong into battle with no plan or gear was just asking for death. As proof, a knight not too far from him fell, signaled by the agonizing scream and tearing of flesh, and he turned just to see a shadow rip the man's head clean off.
Perhaps clean was an overstatement. Blood splattered everywhere, and Jake only stared in horror as the creature suddenly turned towards him. At least, he assumed it spotted him. That head was staring right at him.

Scrambling back, the ground shook, and Jake turned back to see the shadow fleeing. They... were scared? Of fire?
Jake heard the order for retreat, and didn't need to be told twice. Though he knew he should be fighting BACK, he couldn't shake the fear growing inside of him. Perhaps they might have been strong in numbers, but up against shadows? It might as well have been throwing a handful of straw into a roaring fire. There was no way they could stand up against so many, and... it wasn't like those things could actually die.... could they? Why even bother? Any effort was absolutely futile and-

A booming voice caused him to lift his head, and he stared at Morgan with a bleak expression. Was it even possible? There were so many, and...
... no. He couldn't just stay here and lapse in fear. He... he had to do something, and the Great Knight was right. They had to take back what belonged to them.
Mind made up, he steeled his nerves and went to the offense.

It was a shame everything had been a lie. He had been under the impression Camelot was safe—though on second thought, he was annoyed with himself for not realizing this sooner. There was no hesitation in his movements when TK pulled out his glaive and began to swing it at the shadowlings. Sure, he was nervous, but that was from lack of battle experience than actual fear toward the darkness.

Something whistled in the distance, and as he looked up he realized someone had used the ballistas. The creatures seemed to shy away from the fire, so he took the chance to retreat. There were too many shadowlings and too little knights to fight back. It was a wise decision to obey and fall back.

The knights shouted their sort-of-orders one after the other, and eventually he found himself walking after Percival.

Leev stood with her fists clenched and her shoulders tight, though they were squared. Her breathing was controlled, and her eyes forward, watching the Knights as they spoke. The attack had her nerves on edge, and her first instinct had been to tell herself to calm down. Calm down and focus. She knew that letting anxiety and fear and anything else overpower her and cloud her judgement would be a death sentence. Possibly for more than just her. They had the castle, they were defending, and they had numbers. At least, some numbers.

But she shadows had gotten in. They were under attack.

Leev swallowed, trying to rid herself of the tightness in her throat. It was hard to keep her focus on the right things. She was afraid. She didn’t like feeling, and she tried to tell it to go away. It didn’t really help.

The Great Knights finished their speeches and Leev watched them go. There were things to consider here. Her own personal strengths. Riding was one, she knew, but little good that did her. Her sword though. She could use her sword. She could fight. But where might she be of the most use? Her brow furrowed while she thought, not wanting to delay any longer than need be. Some small part of her was grateful for the fact that the crowd was slow in dispersing, it gave her a few extra moments.

Leev let out a long, slow breath. She would join the offensive. Something about it felt right, the idea of being in the midst of the fight seemed to ease her nerves. She reasoned it was because when one fights, there is less time to think about other things. Like what exactly is trying to kill you.

The knight apprentice nodded to herself. She would follow Morgan into this battle.

It was as if time had slowed for Rhiannon. She watched as the creatures breached the outer walls of the kingdom, bringing hell itself with them. She watched with heavy heart as knights fell, some she knew, some faceless, their bodies torn to pieces as they fell. She couldn't do anything, useless and frozen as the kingdom erupted with the destruction of war. Just like... Just like--

"What are you doing? Let's go!" The memory faded with the sound of a male knight. Suddenly, she was being dragged inside, barely registering the word 'safe' as they secured the doors. Ri fell to her knees, her body shivering with terror, blank eyes staring at the floor. Three of the Great Knights were there, Morgan mentioning fighting, Gawain mentioning healing, but it wasn't until Percival, the knight she swore under, spoke that she was snapped out of her shock. He was going to protect, he was going to defend... Rhiannon rose, shaking off her fear and doubt. The kingdom needed her help.

And defend it, she would.

Ruth

The reality of their situation hit Ruth with such force she was practically knocked off her feet. Her back slammed against a wall and she wondered how was it all possible, who had managed to maintain this shield? It was amazing as it was cruel. But rather than feel despair, it was lightness that filled her.

Her mouth pulled into an ear-to-ear grin before she threw her head back in silent laughter. Perhaps she'd gone mad? Her reactions seemed to suggest her mind was not in its proper state. But the blonde quickly rallied when the sounds of a terrific battle reached her ears. Picking up her skirt, the silent woman fled in the opposite direction.

Away was the watchword. Away was important. But every path she took, every corner she rounded, there were shadows. And there were knights. Ruth couldn't spare so much as a passing glance at them then, she was too busy fleeing.

However, now, as the Great Knights spoke, Ruth's hands clasped together in a silent prayer. For what? For whom? Ruth would rather not say. She kept an ear open, listening to the report on their situation, and felt her blood run cold. She didn't want to fight, didn't want to place herself in harm's way. Not for herself and certainly not for these fools!

When she raised her head, she opted to stay in the Great Hall to treat the wounded. She needn't be present at the battlefield to see the devastation being wrought nor to piece together the pieces of people left. Was she aiding those broken for selfish reasons? Absolutely. Did she care that she was being selfish? Not in the least.




Joy

Things... happened. A lot of bad things. The screams rang loud in her ears, the tang of blood sharp in the air mixed with the bitterness of bile. And they were going to keep happening unless something was done. But she didn't know what she could do.

Move. Shut up. Keep out of the way. Those things Joy understood and that was what she used to ground herself to the present and to keep the panic and fear at bay. She may not know what use a mere apprentice could be, not when the experienced Knights were felled so quickly, so easily, but she knew enough to not resist being herded.

The command to retreat to the Great Hall was met with immediate obedience, her body moving of its own accord while she tried her best to remain aware of her surroundings. Through the throng of bodies, past corpses and ongoing carnage, she reached the safe haven. Her stomach plummeted when she saw how small they numbered.

The three Great Knights began to speak and Joy looked dumbly at her hands. She wondered how she managed to keep ahold of her halberd, realizing belatedly the pale knuckles she sported and finally allowed her grip to go slack. What good could she do with a weapon she hardly knew how to wield? What aid could she provide that went beyond applying pressure to wounds?

Brown eyes fell upon the eagle's crest. She would do what she could so that the others could fight. Grimly, she rose to her feet and fell into the ranks behind Percival.

Na'ima

She backed into the Great Hall, absolutely refusing to turn her back on the creatures coming at them, though it was difficult when knights were panicking and rushing and jostling into her left and right. Stay calm, keep a sound mind, don't panic, don't rush. She let out a shaking breath in her effort to control herself, looking all around at those in the Great Hall. Who made it in. Did he make it in? She frowned. Why was she so concerned for him making it in? It didn't make sense. Rubbing her wrist, Na'ima scoured the faces in the Great Hall until she found Wrath's, and then finally let out a soft sigh of relief without even thinking about it.

Morgan's voice reached her ears then and she turned again to face him, eyes narrowing. His plan seemed the most likely to her; Na'ima was no healer, and she would prefer to be in there taking out the enemy than anything else. She watched Wrath leave for the courtyard and she frowned again. Don't get yourself killed, idiot.

Squeezing through the crowd, Na'ima also began to make her way toward the courtyard.