There were so many people here, Jason was becoming lost in a sea of faces, many looking as shell shocked as he did. Never before had he felt so alone, his body exhausted both mentally and physically from the past few days and weeks. Briefly he looked upon the glory that was the great king, and the seven that stood behind him. He wondered if it was even possible for him to be able to fight the darkness as they said, knowing he had been so powerless to stop anything let alone save anyone. And yet as he listened to his speech he was surprised to see the knights acknowledge his presence with a nod, and he found his gaze dropping to the floor as he tried to hide in his coat and appear as small as possible. It still amazed him that they had chosen for him to become a knight, but then he guessed they needed all the help they could get.
As they lined up he hung at the back, nervousness eating away at his insides but doing nothing to stop the grief. Everything hurt and he couldn't do a thing about it. So instead he thought about what he would need to do now.
He was aware of the sacrifice he would need to make in order to become a knight in training, but he felt so very unsure about doing so. To forget about all that had happened...it almost seemed like a blessing. But even though he had suffered so much, there were still precious memories, and people he couldn't bare to forget. Would he be insulting their memories if he chose to get rid of his past?
He sighed, stepping forwards to the box when it was his turn to swear the oath. He didn't want to, but then did he have a choice? If he did not do this then he would be left to dwell in regret forever, stuck in the past without going forward.
As he knelt down, he said a silent prayer, asking for forgiveness to the ones he was leaving behind.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."
As soon as Jason had finished the unbidden memories rose up to haunt him once more as they had done so many times before, sending his world into chaos. It had been nighttime when they had attacked, leaving him to stumble out of bed in confusion at the sudden thunderous roar that sounded outside, before his home was suddenly engulfed in flames.
With a shout he ran outside, watching as people ran past him, all screaming and shouting in panic. He ran with them, explosion sounding all around him and threatening to drag him to his knees. He pushed on, knowing that if he were to fall now he wouldn't get back up again.
Suddenly he felt something grab him and pull him into a alleyway, and he screamed in fear as the street he was on was suddenly surrounded by shadowlings. His eyes widened, hearing more screaming coupled with the gruesome sound of bodies being hacked up. He flattened himself against the wall but again he was tugged further in.
"This way!"
Next thing he knew he was running through darkness, the fires looming overhead. He was being led by someone through the back alleyways instead of the main streets, as it was obvious they weren't safe anymore.
Jumping over upturned bins and dodging falling flames from above, they exited the alley and ended up on the backstreet, gasping for breath. Leaning against the wall he finally gets a good look at the person who saved him, eyes widening at who it was.
"Seriously, do I always need to bail you out of trouble?" A chuckle, followed by a good pat on the back. "We should be safe now."
Before he could say a thing he heard something nearby, the sick wet noise of a blade being drawn through flesh. A figure cloaked in black stood there, pulling back his blade from the pile of corpses that lay there. Jason froze in terror as he watched the horsemen walk ever closer to him, swinging that blade as if it were nothing.
And then he was suddenly pushed aside, as the person who had saved him now stood in front of him, a sword clasped in one hand.
"Go on ahead Jason." He looked over his shoulder. " I'll catch up."
He never did.
Jason straightened, feeling rather refreshed, though unable to figure out why that was. Had something been troubling him?
OOC
My character's name: Jason Kenneth Character's journal link: Here! BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER A tall guy wearing a black coat under simple dark pants and a white shirt, coupled with black leather boots. Has blue eyes and shoulder length blonde hair tied back into a short pony tail Rank of character Apprentice-knight.
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 6:08 am
Danirate Levinski had considered his roots and life capable of more grandeur in the form of having the added prestige of being a renown warrior and he had long since proceeded throughout his days with goals to address this wherever he was with the potential to, and that left little he believed himself to have no control over shaping with his endeavors.
Then that grim but memorable day had come. And on that day which was when he had returned, he found nothing and perhaps consequently had nearly lost his mind. What sort of twisted luck was this, to return after training with the fight having escaped?!
"Come out and fight!!" he yelled out in full force with all his anger infused with his exclamation at the top of his lungs. What wicked perpetrator was responsible for the cowardly attack that had annihilated the place of his birth, the inhabitants and establishments all consumed in the turmoil that had left only wreckage in its wake while he was away? He was blinded by a fury of a volcanic mix of emotions as he and his steed galloped onwards at dangerous speeds, after whatever had left them homeless, seeking out so as to repay the unknown target with far greater means to bring about their downfall.
It was this memory which came unbidden that he shoved aside once again as he kneeled and pledged, "I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."
OOC
My character's name: Danirate Levinski Character's journal link:http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=24688945 BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER At last, after much practice, knight in training Danirate Levinski now has fairly little trouble with wielding his longsword to perform the basic strokes. However, he, this man, tall and proud, and whose crown of hair likens to that of the sun at the horizon's edge, did indeed have plenty of ground to cover still before he was capable of being recognized as a knight no longer in training, the next milestone he has set his sights on. So as to reach this next goal of his, he fully intends to continue to maintain his foundations and innovate as he proceeds onward. Rank of character knight apprentice Sacred Points obtained: ???/100
If anyone had ever asked Rae what it was she had hoped to become in the future, she probably wouldn't have told them she'd become a Knight. Of course, she never had much of a desire to become anything when she grew up. her daily life was one of finding the quickest way to make the days go by. These ways usually lead to her being cooped up in her father's study, reading scrolls and books for hours at a time. To many people this made her seem unmotivated, and that was probably the truth. Before all hell broke loose in the land she didn't have much of a drive to do anything. She followed the motions of her minor status, toward the end she had picked up a few techniques useful on a battlefield, just to prove to someone she wasn't some useless bookworm.
Still, in the end she had been the only one to make it to Camelot. As she looked up at the great Knights before her her mind was full of thoughts in regards to how she had come to be here. The trials that had led her here. She still couldn't believe it was her, of all the people she had lived with, why had she been able to make it here. Her eyes scanned the brilliantly armored Knights, but they kept returned to the Golden Knight, Sir Galahad. She had always been one to play strictly by the rules. while it was a bit of a flashy color, she couldn't help but be drawn to him. Her resolve won out in the end and the line before her grew shorter and shorter.
Her time to stand before that box came and she stepped up in front of it. Her hooded cloak had kept her hidden from most of the people around her, but not she reached up and pulled back her hood. The time for hiding was in the past. There was a pause, she was holding up the line she knew. With a deep breath she held her right hand up to her heart and balled it into a fist.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."
Rae had only been sparred from the initial attack on her village because of the location of her father's reclusive library. When the building around her shook with such force she had had no idea what to believe the cause was. Shortly after there was shouting. Screaming. The sound of running. An apprentice to her father,Jon, had entered the library than. "You have to run Rae. I will buy you what time I can." He had dragged her out of the chair she had been in, somehow in the chaos she had been stunned. But his hand pulling her to her feet reawakened her sense. Her father's house was huge. There were places that were like hidden escape routes.
He left her at the entrance to one. "I have to find Allie. You go on." That was the last she would see of him. When she made it out of her home and looked behind her what could catch fire was alight. It was madness all around her. People were running and she took to joining them. Jon had given her his cloak, so that she might remain hidden and along her way out she picked up sword that had been left by someone. She might just need to defend herself and it was the only weapon around. It didn't take long for the monsters to catch up to her. While she might like to say she had fought some of them off, in reality her only means of escape had been luck. Luck that they had chosen other victims. The sword in her hand was useless, she couldn't save anyone. At some point it had been thrown from her hands when she had slashed at a foe with it.
Running. That was all she could do. The people around her thinned out as they were taken by those monsters. Where was her father? Allie? Jon? No one was running with her. Allie did love to play out in the town. Jon had gone for her though. Surely he could save her. Her father had gone into town for business, for all she knew he could have been the first one they had gotten to. The tears were streaming down her face and she kept on running, not once did she look back. If she took the time to turn back now, she'd only be dead herself as well. The last of her family...they last of her people.
Reliving that moment had brought the tears to her eyes, but then she moved from the box in front of her. Those memories were gone now and for what reason she had been crying she couldn't recall. Her only duty now was that of a Knight. She had sword herself to Code of the Lion, to a Knight's Glory. And in her glory she would defeat those shadows and help reclaim the lady for humans. It was time that she begin to take this task seriously.
It felt like a weight had been lifted from her. Where she might have once again pulled her cloak up to cover her face, instead she left it down. A Knight doesn't hide her face, she doesn't hide behind the fear of what was out there. She held her head high as she walked away, ready to take something seriously.
OOC
My character's name: Lulu Rae Kimbrough Character's journal link:Lulu`s Chapter Journal BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTERRae, as she prefers to be called, has always seemed to have little interest in becoming a Knight. Still, she's gone through the painful training process to become one regardless. Her family didn't really think highly of her growing up so she turned to Knighthood as a way to rid herself of their influence while also proving to them that she could really go something useful once she set her sights on them. It's a mystery as to why she was drawn to the War Scythe, but she loves to use it to drag people of their 'high horse' and she is good at fighting from a distance. Of course, she's still just training. Rank of character Apprentice-knight Sacred Points obtained: ???/100
HERE YOU SHOULD QUOTE ANYONE YOU ARE TALKING TO
QUOTE MORE PEOPLE IF YOU ARE TALKING OT THEM
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 6:25 am
[Entering] - [Uru'baen]
He wasn't the first, he certainly was not the last. The knight-apprentices stood before the box of stored memories, pledging their lives to the Great King seeking to defend, protect, and serve what was left of their ravaged world. Uru stood in line with the others, awaiting his turn to pledge. Inklings of doubt waved along the shores of his mind, hoping to raise its tide to consume his thoughts. He could not allow that. He was a trained squire and he was getting his chance to become a knight. He has come too far to let doubt take him now.
It was a woman who kneeled before the the box before him, her voice soft as she spoke. As she kneeled down, her hands clasped together in a gesture he had seen many on the days of mourning, on days the dead were returned to them, and then after. It was a gesture he did not see a use of other than to alleviate one's self in some delusional attempt to escape from reality. Speak to whomever one wished, he saw praying led to nothing but false hope and sinking hearts.
Praying did not save them. Praying did not help him. Praying did nothing.
And just like that, the woman before him stood and left.
Ushered forward, the twenty-five year old took a knee, his arm resting on his bent knee, the other on the pommel of his sword. He had nothing else. He had no lord. He had no knight. He had no home. He had no family. His friends were scattered to the winds, their whereabouts not known. He had nothing but this chance to serve - to protect. To make a difference. Ducking his head, he spoke.
I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness.
----------------
"Father!?" A cry split across the chaos of screams and crumbling timber. The shadows came at twilight as the sun cast down its shadow across the land as it sunk below the horizon. It was all that was needed for the creatures to creep from the darkness that overtook the day to become night. Ravaged the village, the father had taken immediate action and abandoned the tannery, leaving the young boy alone. He was afraid and uncertain. Should he had stayed? Should he had waited for the father's return? The screams that split the air and the fire that quickly raced from buildings frightened him enough to leave the familiar comfort of the tannery to retreat down the dirt road to the farm. In the distance he could see the barn was a lit with crimson flames, the panicked moos and bleats of the animals inside. Could he had saved them? Could he have just swung open the barn doors and allowed them to escape? No, he was certain that he had locked their pens to ensure their safety. It would take too long to save them all without endangering himself. He still had to try, he still had to-
The boy only managed to open one door before he heard a scream from the house. Abandoning the barn, he darted across the field toward the house. He jumped the small, wooden fence and threw open the front door. Blood, the acrid smell of blood. The starting hints of smoke came beneath the floor boards, warming the soles of his feet. He turned to look up as he cried out their names again. "Father! Mother! Aria! Where are you!?"
He found his foster brother face down in the kitchen, apparently had attempted to defend himself with a knife.
His father at the top of the stairs.
His sister hiding in the closet.
He searched throughout the house, recklessly looking into every room for his foster mother. He did not care if whatever had done this was still lurking. He did not care for if it had came to take him as well. All he had was a skinning knife, afterall. When the first beams began to creek, the timber beams gave way, falling in on itself as the fire ate them from the inside out, weakening the structure.
Where was she? Where was the mother?
The boy sat outside until sunrise, sitting by the fence watching as the only place he had known as home for the last ten years become ash. He waited to hear the screams inside, was it morbid to hope to not hear them? He did not hear them. For that, he was a little bit glad. He prayed for their deaths to be easy on them in the next life. He prayed that they didn't hurt when they did. He prayed that if his mother was inside, that she managed to get out somehow. He prayed that if his mother was inside, that she'd forgive him for not finding her. He prayed that his friend survived the town.
The boy sat outside until he was picked up by a group journeying to someplace safer.
That was weeks later.
--------------------------
Uru's eyes opened, his eyes downcasted. The knuckles around his pommel returned to their fleshy hue from the white, tight grip that he had apparently been holding. Standing upright, he looked to the box of stored memories. Whatever memories that the box had taken from him, he had hoped they remained there. They did nothing for him now. They are nothing for him now. Perhaps he could get a good night sleep now that whatever it was that was taken from him was gone.
OOC
My character's name: Uru'baen Character's journal link:Journal BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Twenty-five years old, long dark hair tied up. Commoner's clothing with leather fitting. Blue eyes. Wields a basket-hilt sword. Rank of character apprentice-knights. Sacred Points obtained: ???/100
There were so many here, she noted, her lips set in a thin line as she scanned the crowd of people willing to pledge their lives to fight against the darkness. How many had the darkness taken? How many had been ravaged and left broken that a crowd of such proportions had gathered here with the sole purpose of signing themselves up for a war?
Even if they had been given an exact number of casualties, she doubted it would make any difference. How could you measure that many lives with numbers? How could you measure the importance of those who had perished, those who had left scars upon those unlucky enough to survive with those memories?
She had pledged herself to the Raven, determined to use what was left of her life to walk on a path towards power, and use it as cut down the creatures who had taken so much from her.
The box was right before her now, and Marzena breathed.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness." Those words were those which many others had uttered before her, as they knelt before the box.
She wondered if they too, felt the slight twinge of wonder and regret as the words left their lips. If they began to realize... what would they be without the memories they had? Of the people that had been dearest to them, of those who had been lost?
But it was too late to turn back now. This was a choice she had made when he had pushed her off the cliff--
It had been a day like any other. She and Radek had slipped off yet again, in the midst of chores, heading out to the sea to swim. To challenge each other and hone their bodies; the both of them were acutely aware of the danger looming around them and desired to, one day, be able to assist in the fight. It was something Papa disliked. Even though he was a blacksmith, working to forge weapons that would serve well in battle, all he had ever wanted for his family was for them to stay out of danger.
Especially since Mama...
They had been on the way home, hair still glistening wet with seawater. Radek was still pouting because she had won again, and he had insisted that it had been so close it was hard to tell, and she told him that she had still won and--
He froze then in the middle of their banter, staring at their village blankly. Black smoke were pouring out of the houses, and screams were cut short as the clatter of hooves caught up to them, but the carnage before them did not stop.
"No." She whispered, starting forward but he caught hold of her and pulled her back. "What are you doing?! We have to--" They had to get home. Without them, Mira and Serafina (Sabina was not of much help) had to deal with six children, and they had to make it out....
"There's no time!" Her brother yelled. "They're coming for us!"
They ran.
They ran in the opposite direction of their village. Away from their home. Away from Papa and their sisters and baby brother. Marzena could only imagine how terrified the little ones would be, blood running cold at the thought of their limp bodies, torn and bloodied...
But they ran, and she hated herself for it.
She blindly followed Radek as he ran, so occupied with thoughts of their family that she barely realized where he was leading them towards. Perhaps the same thoughts plagued him too, for suddenly, he stumbled and took a nasty spill.
"'Dek!" She reached out a hand, but he waved her away as the clatter of hooves grew louder in the distance.
"I'll be fine!"
She had trusted him. She had always trusted him, for he was the closest person she had in this entire world, for they were born only minutes apart from each other and had been by each other's side ever since...
And she trusted him then, and ran on.
It was the cliff. She realized. The cliff they had discovered weeks ago and he had dared her to jump off into the waters below, and she had done so without hesitation...
She stopped at the very edge, turning to see him limping towards her.
"Come on." She whispered. "Come on, you idiot."
He dragged himself to her, panting. "I... can't."
"You what?"
"I can't swim with this leg, Marz.... oh just--"
He had shoved her then, and she had fallen. Eyes wide open, staring up at him as he looked down to her and mouthed the words "I'm sorry". As they caught up to him and dragged him away as he screamed, the sounds of his agony piercing her as she hit the water.
All of that melted away as her oath was taken. The memories of her surfacing and realizing that she was alive but she was empty. Empty because she would see none of them ever again, and she had stifled her mouth as her shoulders racked with uncontrollable sobs. The memories of the never ending tears and pain in her chest, which slowly gave way to emptiness. The memories of her feeling hollow until a burning rage took over her and put her on the path towards this very.... box...
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 7:58 am
chiickadee
Chel's never seen so many people before. Certainly she wasn't opposed to crowds (she preferred them really, having the ability to blend and disappear), but it was overwhelming for someone who only depended on one person. So many different faces left her comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time. Would one of these knights recognize her and Chris' face? Would the scars derail them from thinking otherwise?
Ceilings stretched up higher than Chel had ever seen a ceiling go before. She wondered what the purpose of that was; was it to try and reach the gods or to get close to cage them out?
She also noted the sheer number of exposed purses that hung from knights' belts. An excellent thing indeed.
"There is a way to fight against the darkness."
"Pfft." Chel nudged Chris' arm as if to say get a load of this guy. They weren't here for noble intentions and upstanding citizenry, they were here for piles and piles of money.
Well actually any money. They were kind of broke at this point because Chel had bought herself a new shoulder cape thing. It did absolutely nothing for anyone, but it did make her look cool and that was what really mattered. Plus Chris had spent extra getting a silly looking fur collar, so really they were evenly distributed in their idiocy.
"You must follow a Great Knight's path of conduct and choose a Sacred Weapon."
Chel could get behind that. She liked weapons. Weapons were nice pointy things that got jobs done. However, Chel was too busy eyeing someone's feathered hat to notice. She nudged Chris again, whispering, "Think I could get a hat like that?"
"Only a true knight can wield it, those too weak will fall prey to madness. This is why the Trial of Knights exist. Follow the knight code, complete your trials, and you will be granted a Sacred Weapon."
Chel zoned out this entire part. She was picking at her teeth or something.
Eventually the crowd began to clear though, and Chel visibly perked up a bit. "Wha? What's goin' on what did I miss?" After a short explanation from Chris, she gathered that they were all supposed to align under some knight.
Her eyes fell to the red knight and it seemed like the most fitting option for her. Beautiful, lively red fit her well. It was the color of expensive makeups and intimate interactions; most fitting. The red knight exuded power, proclaimed battle prowess, all the things she most desired to protect Chris.
But her eyes slowly moved to the black knight and there was something about him that inexorably pulled her in. He had a quality about him that was mesmerizing, and Chel felt her feet moving before even saying a word to Chris. Her hand slid off his grey steel armor and dragged to her sides as she approached the knight.
Home.
She barely remembered the line that trailed behind, nor the time it took to shorten the line until she was standing in front of him. She looked to the knight nervously. The trance was broken as she searched for Chris' eyes in the crowd. Where was he? What was this box?
More importantly what have we gotten ourselves into?
It wasn't until she was kneeling that panic welled. Kneeling was not an action she was comfortable with; it meant fealty, it meant surrender and worst of all it meant servitude.
She served no one any longer.
But words are tumbling out of her mouth and she doesn't know what's brought them on; is it the black knight's mysterious power, or worse (and possibly more terrifying), is it her own desire to make change?
"-giving those who seek power and greater meaning to their-" She chokes on the last word and she feels condemned. She's made another mistake and she knows it, but she can't take this one back. It's one more lash on her back, one more stolen heirloom, one more runaway plan that's failed miserably. Suddenly she's back in that castle and she's staring down icy eyes that have decided her sentence at the age of five.
"-lives."
All at once an immense sense of peace befalls her. This was correct. There was no turmoil, there was never any cousin, no ballroom, no fiance, no beatings, no indecision.
There is only Merlin and the code of the Raven.
OOC
My character's name: Chelsea Craft Character's journal link:here BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTERlike dis Rank of character Knight Apprentice
Chris was decidedly uncomfortable. Crowds provided anonymity, but a crowd filled with to-be knights and a sampling of the privileged? That provided an opportunity for them to be discovered. He stuck close to Chel, kept his eyes moving, and turned the scarred side of his face outward at every glance that lingered just a little too long.
"There is a way to fight against the darkness. You must follow a Great Knight's path of conduct and choose a Sacred Weapon."
He paid about as much attention to what the King talked about as Chel. It all just sounded like garbage. Buzzwords to get them excited for something not-so-great.
Chris turned to look at the hat in question, and snorted quietly. "You'd look ridiculous. Stick to the cloaks," he whispered back. He jerked his chin at the heavy looking purse hanging from the person's hip. We could take that.
"Only a true knight can wield it, those too weak will fall prey to madness. This is why the Trial of Knights exist. Follow the knight code, complete your trials, and you will be granted a Sacred Weapon."
Weapon. That was enough to catch his attention. A knight's weapon would be effective, expensive, useful. He said as much to Chel, turning to survey the knights. They were supposed to choose one?
His gaze skipped over a couple knights, and he half turned to ask Chel who she'd want to follow, but then he saw the blue knight and the words died on his tongue.
As Chel's hand slipped away, he was already moving. Blue, protection, security. There was no other choice, this was best.
He'd already begun to bow his head before the doubt hit. Doubt was panic, and his head jerked back up. Chel hadn't followed him, she was gone and he couldn't see her. He was making a mistake, doing this without her. He needed to find her, they needed to talk about this before making a final decision-
His knee hit the cold floor and he looked back to the knight, wide-eyed. I can't do this, we can't bind ourselves like this.
But he was speaking anyways, words thick and uncomfortable on his tongue.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."
His shoulders slumped as the last word left his lips. He had a single moment of stark regret, and then it was gone. There was no running, no solidarity, no struggles. No cousin to protect.
He protected the entire kingdom.
OOC
My character's name: Chris Axten Character's journal link:Here BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTERA dweeb Rank of character Knight-Apprentice
DarkHeartedSorrow
Adorable Trash
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Zyphiris
Dainty Snowflake
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Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 8:00 am
Her eyes were still red from the crying but the tears have all but dried by now. Nervously, she stood in the Great Hall and tugged at her fingers, watching the crowd that had gathered. Many of them too, showed the same signs of sadness, anger, and desperate hope. She was alone but that the same time, she was not. They had all come to Camelot for the same purpose.
A Knight of Camelot. She didn't know what it fully entailed, nor did she care. Whatever it will take for her to exact her pain, and take revenge on those who have taken from her, it will be done. Tiny fists were clenched at her sides as she joined the line. Dark banners gilded the walls of the Great Hall, but her eyes were steadily fixed on one in particular.
The red wolf, the faction of Morgan that promised strength in battle and prowess in war. She'd learn to fight too, and fight better than the shadows did. For her sisters, for her family that was no more.
A burning fire had been lit in her, that grew hotter and hotter as she approached the front of the line. Gzifa had not expected to see that it ended with a large box, but the power it emanated convinced her that this was what she was searching for. This was what she wanted.
She knelt before the box and bowed her head. “I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness." The words fumbled out of her mouth in a quiet, but determined voice. She waited for something to happen, while a small worry crept into her. Was she not worthy? She would do anything to prove that she was...
A searing flash momentarily blinded her and she found herself in the depths of her recollection. It was all too palpable, the memory of her stranded amidst the chaos, crying and calling for her sisters. All around her, there was only fire, smoke and dust. Silhouettes and figures shifted around her, but none of them were familiar nor of comfort. Instead, there was fear and chaos. Cries of anguish flooded her ears, but what struck her were the familiarity of those voices. Hands were clasped over her head, trying to block out the screams and terror that were taking over. Somebody, somebody come, she hoped desperately, come and take her away to where it was safe.
Nobody came.
Her feet were charred as she wandered around the smoking ruins. “Hello?” her voice echoed through the charred village, but there was no one there.
They didn't even put up a fight – they couldn't. Would it have been different, had she known how to wield a sword to strike back? Part of her wanted to believe those thoughts were meaningless now, but her desires were much greater. She would show them the fight they didn't have. For everyone. For her sisters. For herself.
The memory was slowly fading away, but her skin still felt hot with passion. She could not remember by, but she trusted her conviction as she rose and moved away from the box, each step filled with new found determination. Faster, better, stronger. She was ready to begin her journey into knighthood. Tbis time, nobody could ever say that they didn't even put up a fight.
Gzifa turned to look at the rest that lingered in the Hall. Some were ready to fight as she was, while some were still in a self-pitying daze. She'd leave those behind, she thought to herself, striding out of the Great Hall and onto begin what she had started.
Quote:
gaia_crownKnight's Name: Gzifa gaia_crownChosen Faction: Black gaia_crownRank: knight-apprentice gaia_crownBattle Dice Stats: 1d4 gaia_crownSacred points obtained: /100 gaia_crown BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF CHARACTER Short, quiet, but always ready for a fight.
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 8:08 am
[Kylee]
She had seen her fair share of death and demise.
Her father was a doctor (though some called him a healer) who tended to the injures of those who had managed to live. Some of them had been so close to death's door and perished despite his best efforts. Some of them eventually healed, though they were never quite the same as before. A certain light had been snuffed out in them, and it would never be lit again.
It was something she only understood once her home had been razed to the ground.
Kylee still hadn't understood how she had managed to escape with her life intact. She had been injured, but had patched herself up relatively well. Enough for her to be accepted as a knight in training, to drive those abhorrent creatures out of this land.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness." The code of the wolf had been her calling. So long she had tended to the ill and been on the sidelines that Kylee desired strength, to stop them before anyone even needed any treatment.
Father would have been proud, she thought. But after this, he would be erased from her memory forever more...
"I'm sorry." He tells her after they finish their rounds of checking in on their patients. She blinks at him questioningly as she wrings the towels dry. "All of this... it's not something you should see."
"I'm not a little girl any more." She reminds him. But she understands what he means. She had started helping out at a young age; his little nurse, his 小护士. And to the patients, she is kroshka, la signorina, petite amie...
It has been an especially hard day. A young child had been brought to them by his weak mother, who had been pronounced dead just mere minutes after she collapsed on their doorstep. Hope seemed bleak for the little one as well, and his fever raged on despite them doing all they could.
"I want... to... die. Please..." He had whispered as pain convulsions overtook his body.
It was a statement that had taken them both aback, and she had seen the sorrow fill her father's eyes then. A child his age, begging to be put out of his misery, when he should have been carefree and playing with other children...
Such a childhood was not to be for a world like this.
Lawrence Weiman was very good at running. He had no shame in fleeing trouble or danger and in fact, restlessness seemed to be written deep into his very being. Too long in one place, people would start to see through the cracks in who he was, and they never reacted well to what lay beneath that mask, shying from the reptilian intelligence the way all feeling creatures seemed to. So he moved, constantly flitting from identity to identity, place to place, lingering only with those he deemed worthy of any idea of who he truly was. And even those friends were not a truly altruistic relationship, altruism was as alien to him as fear, there was always a catch, always. With Horace it was the sex, and sometimes something intangibly more than that which he could not really define. There was an air of subtle comfort around the other man.
He hadn't been with Horace when the attack on the town had come, and that was probably fortunate, because on the way to escape he had thrown every single person he could under the metaphorical bus. They were expendable, he was not, they would surely understand.
Finding himself at the bastion of the Great Knights, he had eyed the situation and like a rat leaving a sinking ship, had smelled that this was the only direction survival lay in, it was not ideal, in fact it seemed a rather horrible amount of physical effort, but it was better than the scorched wreckage that lay behind him. As always in his life, there was no way to go but forward, to pursue the path that led from Point A - the present, to Point B - continued survival.
So he chose the code of the Lion, a pleasant animal where the males relied exclusively on the hard work of the females to feed themselves and which had symbolically become synonymous with god. He was god in his own thoughts so of course this was what he would choose.
Stepping forward, he knelt before the box - mimicking others was always so easy - and repeated the words.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."
There was no fear of losing his memories, what lay behind him was always as distant and irrelevant as those fallen on the way to this point. Even pledging himself was simple, words and contracts well...they were all flexible in the end right?
There was a swirl of thoughts, memories fractured, breaking away.
- he rose, unable to believe they'd let him do this.
Tapping a fingertip in time with a pulse.
-running till breathing was fire and muscles were dull agony.
And then he forgot.
Everything about his relaxed easy confident posture changed. When he stood, there was something cold and blank behind his eyes. There were no more masks, there was only whatever he was beneath it all, now laid bare to the world he had no tools left to understand.
If he had any capacity for regret, he might have regretted his choice, as it was - he felt nothing at all.
OOC
My character's name: Lawrence Weiman Character's journal link:[Event][ Non - Event ] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Surprisingly short, Lawr is very very pale, with sharp angular features and cold, unfeeling blue eyes. He moves with strange, almost robotic repetition at times and on the whole gives the uncanny impression of something wearing a human skin rather than an actual human being. Rank of character Apprentice Knight
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 9:00 am
TK
This is a means to an end.
There is nothing particularly special about this kingdom. Perhaps the castle structure and décor had piqued his interest upon initial arrival, but after thoroughly soaking in all of the details into his memory, there wasn’t much left for TK to muse over. The only redeeming factor was its fortitude—the power and strength to pull through the many raids and attacks that had burned down neighboring villages and kingdoms. This was the last stronghold of humanity. He pauses, shifts his weight from one foot to the other. The last stronghold of true humanity, he amends. But what is humanity, really? What is the true difference between him and the Riders? Perhaps there were none, and perhaps this was only a battle of survival.
If that is so, then this is a fight he intends to win.
He listens carelessly, but carefully too. There is feigned polite interest in his eyes when he folds his thin arms across his chest and listens earnestly to the King’s words. Each time he recites a code, TK’s attention shifts to the respective Knight. None of them catch his interest, but he attributes this to his lack of desire to fight aggressively. His interests lie more so in academic pursuits than anything else, but now is not the time for that.
There is only silence and noise in his brain as he occasionally shuffles forward in the line. He has no qualms, no anger, no fear; his heart is as still as a lake. His mind tells him this is unusual, not right. He keeps walking until he kneels in front of his box, and suddenly he remembers the price of loyalty.
This is not right, his mind tells him again. Without your memories, what will you be reduced to? How will you achieve your goals? How can you survive without all of your accumulated knowledge?
What is the meaning in taking all of his memories? He cannot understand. The idea makes him uneasy, but this is the only choice for survival. It must be done.
He closes his eyes and places a hand over his chest. Perhaps it was only his imagination because his heart beats steadily, confidently.
“I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight’s Code and protect the kingdom against darkness.”
For him, there has only ever been the inn. Never traveled, never even stepped a foot outside of his hometown, he could only listen to stories from fleeting travelers or sneak in a few pages from a library book in between busy hours. Managing the inn with his family takes up most of his day, and it wears him down to bone and skin. If only there was a way to free himself of his chores.
He plays with the idea as he wakes up early to take out the laundry. His arms are already tired with one modest load when he steps out. The rays of the rising sun blind his eyes, but he stumbles toward the river with measured, memorized steps.
The water is cold and the task is slow, but it gives him time to think. His thoughts drift, and he is still drifting when he returns to town.
Screaming villagers run past him, knocking his shoulders until the clothes drop to the ground.
Curiosity rather than worry pulls him into the burning village. He feels something when his shoes step into puddles of thick red, but he cannot place it exactly. Is this fear?
Everything is remembered with clear detail—the corpses, the dismembered limbs. He feels his heart speeding up when he watches buildings crumble to pieces in front of his eyes and the echoes of terrified shrieks mix with the crackling fire and smoke.
But where is mother? Father? Brother? Sister?
There are Riders in the corners of his eyes, playing with the other villagers. There is startling cruelty that gleams in their eyes and smiles, and there is something a little extra. Is this the thing that gives rise to unthinkable acts against human ethics? He sidesteps a fallen head and avoids the organs spilling onto the streets. It’s better to just tune out the pained screaming as he heads for the inn, which is surprisingly still intact.
Unfortunately, the door falls off its hinges when he gently pushes it open with the tips of his fingers. “Mother?” The fires and screaming drown out his whisper, so he steps inside.
He finds sister’s silhouette in the kitchen so he tries to call out, but midway she turns around to reveal pearly white bone amidst pink flesh. He can see the veins connecting to one of her eyes before her corpse finally gives out to reveal his mother.
“Oh, hi sweetie!” Her pitch is higher than normal, unnatural. She steps over her daughter’s body to stretch out a hand toward him.
He remembers everything, but some details are best left out.
There is no charge in stature when TK rises and exits the hall. He feels a sense of emptiness in his chest, but he’ll live.
This is a means to an end.
Syusaki
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Miliardo Kason
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Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 9:17 am
: Sammy Meta POst
Many knights gathered, and many stood in line before her as they each knelt before the great chest and offered a bit of themselves in order to gain the power to protect the kingdom. Even as she watched the line shuffled forward she reflected back on her life. The memories of home, the small village, she was promised to a lord of the small keep near by, her family demanded she study to be a proper lady, that staying in such a keep would spare her the terrors of the world. That large walls and guards all around would protect her from the monsters that stalked the knight. None of them understood though, they expected her to run, but she never wanted to run. She had stood up for friends in alley ways picking fights with boys and girls left and right all in the name of protecting others, why would she hide behind the walls when the right thing to do was stand atop them and scream defiance in the face of that which would destroy them all?
She'd stolen her fathers sword, he was retired, too old to fight, she never spoke of how she got the weapon less she lose what respect of a knight she had earned. She had rode from town to town battling the creatures and darkness that lashed out to the town. How many times had she turned away a beast only to learn a few days later or watch that very same night no matter how much they fought that the city was burning to the ground?
The line moved forward.
Slowly she started to grind her teeth, the bitter memories of how often they would fight, how often it amounted to nothing. How the very keep that was her parents hoped to save her would be the burning cage they where trapped in while the city turned to ash around them. She had seen it, from a top a hill in the distance, the place she once called home, the place she rode back to in order to protect it and beg her families forgiveness. She watched it burn through the night before she turned towards Camelot.
She stood before the chest.
There was a fleeting moment of hesitation as she took her knee before the chest, sword placed before her on the ground. "I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness." A bitter thought followed those words. The last kingdom against the darkness...
And then it happened the sense of something being pulled, the power of the box stripping back her mind layer by layer pulling away every twisted memory. The fights with her family. Gone. Her family. Gone. Every battle she had been in gone in a flurry of steel and darkness simply gone as quick as the fights had happened. All of it stripped away left something else, a name, skills, a place they where in right then and there.
All the victories, and even more all the loses where suddenly gone. She felt empty but in a pleasant sort of way. She stood up again, pulling her sword up with her sheathing it. She didn't know where it came from, she didn't care either. She had a bold smile on her face as she tugged her hood back into place. She would be the sword that protected this kingdom.
She had no need to hide behind a wall.
Down further in the line a young man in green cleric robes bowed his head. The halberd in the crook of his arm was like flag that pointed out the hunched over knight. How long had it been since his home had been taken over? How many lives had he failed to save? The guilt of the dead weighed heavily on his heart, he counted far more dead then the number he'd been able to save. What was the point of one or two lone lives when a whole village burned? Some nights he would lay awake watching the dark sky wondering would it be better? Would it be better to simply abandoned the kingdoms of man and join the Riders who followed the horsemen?
it almost made sense, to join the winning side.
Then he remembered the blood, the broken limbs, the bodies hanging from the walls torn and shattered, those he failed to save, the fate of those who neared the beasts, the riders, and the horsemen all around. How did one even join that let alone survive such a terrible group without becoming a monster themselves?
The thought paled his face. No matter how much he thought about just giving up and turning his back he remembered the horrors he saw and the idea he could even stomach the thought of doing it caused him to go running to the next town to try and help its wounded. It was a sick cycle over and over. Feeling hopeless lost and abut to give up only to be scared into running back to the small string of hope to keep pushing forward. He was a good man, but he was starting to feel weaker and weaker under the growing number of terrors he had seen.
Where some focused on the line he focused on the ground, suddenly he was before the chest. He could only kneel before it sighing softly. His halberd pointed to the sky between his shoulder and neck as he dipped his head low.
'I pledge my service to the Great King and Great Knights, I will uphold the Knight's code and protect this kingdom against the darkness." It felt hollow inside to say those words after the many times he thought of running. Suddenly those thoughts seemed to slowly peel away. Layer after layer of doubt and terror stripped away like pages in a book cut clean and lovingly away leaving nothing but binding to keep the very core of him whole. With each terror, with each doubt he started to stand a bit taller, his shoulders less slumped. Finally when he sat up he seemed to smile for the first time in ages moving to join the other newly minted knights.
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 9:27 am
He walked among other warriors, wondering if the cost was worth it. Did not a man's past make the man? Did not your experiences make you who you were? Would he still be himself if he lost his memory?
But... perhaps the point was moot. He was needed; the darkness was coming... Perhaps to some the loss of their memory would be a blessing, to forget horrors seen and experiences... but to Kenta it was a dreadful decision. For he had seen many things.. beautiful things, horrible things, life, death.... and had come to terms with himself. Would all that pain and effort now be lost?
The line moved down and it was now Kenta's turn. Too late to turn back, too late to save his memories.... But if he fled he would be able to live with himself....
So he knelt, he swore himself to the King and Knights; what could come would come... "I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."
A single tear fell from his left eye; his only eye, as he thought about his family, his bride.... Seeing his sister get married, his nephew and niece being born... the woods he ran through and trained in every day...
The memories faded, replaced by foul images; burning villages, screams of anguish. Horseman came the thought, a thought followed by a sense of regret, of pain. Twisting pain that hurt.... but only for a moment as then the darkness claimed even these images.
Kenta stood up and wiped away a tear... he did not know why he had a tear..... had something bad happened? All he felt was empty peace.
He knew his name.. knew how to fight... but all else was an empty slate.
OOC
My character's name: Kenta WolfsBane Character's journal link: Here BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Lean, mean fighting machine built for speed and endurance rather than brute force. He prefers to use a halberd for its versatility (stabby spear, hacking axe, and hooked sythe!).
Dark tanned skin but with pale white bleaching along the right side of his body; the bleach comes from a bad burn scar from his youth. His right side is completely scarred, and he is missing right eye. Many fear his looks (plus the scowl and outfit...), but Kenta is not that scary at all.. for all that he growls, Kenta is a people person and wants to be with others. He's a team player not a lone wolf! He often wears a hide of a wolf as a cloak, with the skull overlaying his like a helmet. His armor is silver with black decor and overlain with a red taberd with silver and black embroidery. Some say he's cursed... for Kenta has been known to howl at the moon and go berserk in battle.
Joy would be lying if she said she didn't feel nervous about becoming a knight-apprentice. Oh she wasn't scared or worried about dying and the promise of hardship and pain held no sway over her. It was the sacrifice that made her blood run cold. Learning what it was she needed to surrender had her raising her head, panic and doubt shining clear in her brown eyes.
She was to forget everyone she loved? Forget the carnage and atrocities that befell her family and act as if none of it happened? As if none of it mattered? Outrage urged her to stand without reciting the pledge and she angled her head to where her twin was, hoping to find solidarity in her act of refusal. But her brother did not meet her gaze. Instead, Michael remained on bended knee.
She watched his lips move as he swore fealty to his chosen Knight, saw the change in the mien of his stance when he finished, and for the first time in her life, Joy found she was alone. Her shoulders slumped forward in despair, head hung and eyes wet with tears. The corners of her mouth pulled down in an ugly scowl as she swallowed back a sob.
A deep breath did nothing to calm her trembling form, did nothing to comfort the ache that carved at her chest, did nothing to steady her voice as she recited: "I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."
Joy felt the tendrils of magic stab into her mind and she resisted and fought it tooth and nail. But she was only human. And wasn't that why she was here in the first place?
------
She smelled the smoke before she saw the flames but she felt no panic, just a sense of urgency and need to help. Her brother had noticed the fire first and she was chasing after him, pushing herself to catch up to his longer strides. When they crested the hill overlooking their farm, she saw it: a tidal wave of darkness. It seemed to cover the land, blackening everything it touched, and worse of all it was closing in on the farm.
They didn't have far to run but the distance seemed to grow when the screaming started. Joy charged forward, willing herelf to run faster when figures on horseback came galloping out of the darkness. Her ears caught the high-pitched keen of her youngest sister. Brown eyes grew saucer-wide at the glint of steel that sliced through the air towards little Hope.
No. The word echoed in Joy's head, over and over and over. But what came out of her mouth was a feral yell as every nerve propelled her past her brother, snatching his axe from his hand without thinking. She barreled towards the shadow, swinging the weapon without rhyme or reason, and caught a backhand to her cheek. Stars winked before her eyes and she stumbled back, stunned but still standing.
The sound of a thick fist connecting against metal snapped her out of her daze. But then her eyes fell upon Hope's crumpled form. And Joy saw red.
Hate and fury steeled her limbs, revenge commanded her to charge and cut down the beasts. Except strong arms had grabbed her and she found herself being bodily lifted. Sanity and sense whiplashed across her mind and she realized she was slung over Michael's shoulder. It took her a moment to realize he was running.
"No! Wrong way! Where are you going?!" she shrieked as they retreated. She struggled and kicked and was certain she drew blood, but her brother held fast and kept running. In the end, she wasn't able to do anything. All she could do was watch as the flames consumed the fields and the shadows slaughtered her family one by one. The duet of screams and laughter echoed across the hills.
Joy and her family were mere peasant farmers. No one cared what happened to them. No one but her and Michael. She owed it to them to watch, to make sure that she knew what had happened. They would live on for their sake. She said as much to her brother, after they came across a group headed for Camelot.
"They'll pay," she told him as she wrapped her bloodied handkerchief around a gash on his arm.
"Yes, We'll make them," her brother agreed. The next thing Joy knew, Michael was wrapping his sweat-drenched bandanna over a cut on her head.
"When we're Knights," Joy began, blinking back fresh tears, "I'll be too strong for you to lift off the battlefield."
------
Joy opened her eyes as the last echoes of her brother's laughter faded.
OOC
My character's name: Joy Character's journal link:[x] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER She has brown eyes and brown hair cut into a wavy bob. Tanned, somewhat muscular, and sporting a number of scars all over her body, Joy's rather rough appearance belies a warm and cheerful personality. Rank of character Apprentice-Knight Sacred Points obtained: ???/100
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 9:44 am
This wasn’t right. A small portion of him screamed against this. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t fair of them to ask them to forget. To let go.
But it was necessary. Their options are down to almost nothing. And it was dangerous. Michael had never bulked at danger. He could even handle protecting people but it felt like a betrayal, like he was giving up his very soul.
But he would survive. More importantly she would survive. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. For her. He had already lost too many of his siblings. Micheal swore his oath to his chosen knight. War, that’s what this started. War, he would need war and tactics to stop the shadows, stop anyone else from dying. He didn’t look at his sister. They had to do this. He could show no weakness at he went through the final steps. To survive and live to fight.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness."
He had been the first to see the barn go up in flames followed but the smell of smoke and hay. The first thought was that a horse had managed to kill the lantern over. His siblings had of course run towards the flames at first, trying to put out the flames, unaware of the shadows that had collected. By the time they noticed, it was too late.
They had been sent for more wood. It was a good enough day for it, when the wood would be dry. He of course would chop and she would stack. When the fire went up the instinct was or course, go put out the flames. They had run to see what they could do to help. They had only gotten part way there when he heard screams, and then saw the shadows.
One scream in particular, his youngest sister. His blood ran cold and he stopped only to have his twin rush past. The ax dropped to the ground but never hit. In the whirlwind of his sister it was gone.
Joy, was like a Viking, wild and savage running the ax right into the shadows. Too late. The shadow shoved her back, the sound of hooves crossing the ground and Michael stepped in, landing a solid punch. It took a few steps back for the moment, revealing their sister. Little hope, only 4 years old. She never even had an understanding of what was happening.
Joy was furious. But dead was dead and they would be dead soon if they didn’t go. There were more shadows, hoof beats roaring towards them. She would never leave willingly. Michael never gave her the choice. He hauled her up over his shoulder.
She fought as he expected her to. Maybe even drew blood as he well expected. She screamed at him telling him to turn around to help. “We can’t save them.” He whispered more to himself than her. There was no way they were out matched in every way. And what could a mere mortal do against a force like that? It would be like trying to stop the flowing fires of a raging mountain. You didn’t try to stop it, you just got out of the way as fast as he could. This was no natural disaster.
He didn’t stop running until he could no longer hear the screams. His breath was ragged, and Joy was no toothpick. Finally he dropped her sitting and letting her tend to his bloodied arm, though if it was from the shadow or Joy he couldn’t remember.
"“They’ll pay.” Joy said with conviction. He knew she meant it. It would be dangerous, deadly, but he had to agree. When she was done, he spotted where the shadow had touched her across the head. Normally it was Joy who did all the tender loving stuff. But at least now he had someone he could tend to. There was no one else.
“Yes, we’ll make them.” He wrapped his own bandanna, the one that minutes before was used to pull the sweat from his eyes while he chopped wood around her arm. She looked him in the eye. "When we're Knights," Joy began, blinking back fresh tears, "I'll be too strong for you to lift off the battlefield." All he could do was laugh.
OOC
My character's name: Micheal Character's journal link:linklink BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Tall and well build it is clear that Micheal once worked hard for a living. His hands contain calluses from handling a plow. His face is tanned along with ever bit of exposed skin, a testament to how long he was out in it. On his right arm is a series of scars as well as a tattoo of a tiger. Under the jacket on his shoulder is another tattoo of a star.
Micheal has a nice red cloak that was torn at some point. He still wears it. he also has a tool belt full of little items designed to be helpful in a bad situation. Over his shoulder he has a heavy ax slung which he carries with ease. He has a smile full of adventure, and a touch of mischief.
There was no other choice, he thought dully. The line stretched and folded in on itself like some kind of sinuous snake. Horace fidgeted, fingers twisting in his own surcoat. He felt grimy and dirty and very small in Camelot, but, he repeated to himself, there had been no other choice. This was his noblesse oblige, his small sacrifice for the good of all. His memories - this magical box would take them and, with them, his history. What kind of a person would be be without them? Experiences shaped a person, molded their smiles and frowns, made them. Horace would be a puppet-knight, past-less and future-less. The line had been long, a line of a hopeless last push, but it wasn't long enough. Too soon, it was Horace's turn. He nudged Tommy, poked Harley affectionately (Ezekiel only got A Look - the man was nice, but Horace was, of course, stupidly over-protective of his sister), and took the few steps forward.
Magic. The hum of it vibrated along his skin, arcane and unfathomable. He wondered for a second if it would steal his soul along with his thoughts, but it no longer mattered. It was time. Even as he stepped up to it, knelt, his blue eyes had scanned the crowd. He had wanted, for his last moment as himself, to see... But while there was blond hair in the crowd, it wasn't his. While there were thin men, they weren't him. And instead, he forced himself to be content - he looked back at Tommy, at Hattie, and was glad they, at least, were here in this moment. Taking a deep breath, Horace opened his mouth to speak, voice quiet, but clear and very, very precise.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knight's Code and protect this kingdom against the darkness." The word darkness seemed to bloom within his chest, the s hissing out to wrap around him as lightly as lover's fingers. It was something weightier than he had expected this small sacrifice should warrant, something more. He caught his breath on a gasp and...
----------------
He watches it as though outside himself, detached, because he knows no other way to watch it. He remembers, oh, he remembers one of the house servants - Mary (they'd played ball together until Mary grew up and too old; a silly idea, he'd thought at the time, no one was never too old) - he watches as a thin, shadowy claw strikes out, piercing through her upraised, shaking hands. She doesn't have time to scream. Horace trembles, feet frozen to the ground. It's different when spoken of in tales, in nightmares, in hushed voices that say: 'oh but they will never come here'. The immediacy of it all almost causes him to vomit. When Mary falls, her hand is a gaping hole, the ferocity of the attack fusing it to her head like some sick patchwork doll. Two holes - hand, head, hand, head, hand, head. He stares unblinking, jolting forward, feet as unsteady as the newborn deer he and Harley had watched last week (one day, he had told her, they might eat that, but she had silenced him with a 'shhh, Horace, enjoy the cute'). Blood pours out like a small waterfall, followed by the gelatin of her brain: pink, grey, and were all people so fragile? He can't stopper the holes with his inadequate hands but she's already gone, was gone before his feet ran slipshod across the lane to her falling body. The air is thick with the smell of spilled blood and it feels like it's dripping down his throat into his lungs and if he coughs, it'll be a red as bright as tomorrow won't be.
From somewhere, his father is yelling, shouting orders to knights, soldiers older than he, better. They're still falling and failing. They fight the shadows with fire and he watches mutely as a roof catches, the dry thatch an obscene torch against the darkening sky. Everything will burn, Horace thinks with the abject simplicity of a child. Across the courtyard, his eyes meet his father's - that's the one thing they share: piercing blue eyes, bright as a cloudless sky. That grizzled face is smeared with blood, and Horace doesn't know whose it is but his own hands are black with it too, from pressing against wounds not his own, from trying to stop a servant, a friend, a child from bleeding out into the dirt. The mud is red today. "Run," his father shouts, and the sound is as muddy as the ground and he sees a shadow slide behind his father's bulky form. A yelled out warning and his father turns, skewering it neatly. Horace can't stay; he's too weak yet, not good enough. He turns, feet slipping on the sludge of too many innocents, and he runs. His breath runs out of his lungs and he gasps, feeling as though he's drowning. Horace is glad, glad that some of the people he cares about aren't here. Oliver's bashful smile, Melvin's hair - like a fluffy cloud, especially after it rains, and Jan's pale fingers pressing into his skin.
But there are ones here that matter, too. And as he runs, he thinks about Hattie's wide laugh, loud and unashamed, and Tommy's tendency to fall in love with everything and everyone as though the word is painted a rosy pink. But here, now, it's only painted blood and fire and shadow and dirt. He even briefly thinks about Ezekiel, although he doesn't trust him and the way he hangs around Harley. Something dark skitters across his path and without thought (this is the good of his training, a small side of him thinks dispassionately), he pulls both anelaces out, the blood on his hands making the grips slide just a bit. Horace stop-thrusts, parries and slides his hilt down to its grasping obsidian claws. Glissade, riposte, passata-sotto - fancy terms for things that don't work quite the same as they do in practice. His blade slices through shadow flesh and it doesn't work, somehow, but the thing squeals, loud and unholy and he grimaces. It runs, darting around another building. Horace knows what's inside, he's already seen the mess. There was bone, white and shining among red flesh. So unreal - almost like a painting.
Before he can follow, something grabs his wrist and Horace whirls, blades nicking upwards. "Tommy," he gasps. In between coughs (and he wipes his hand across his face, forgetting the blood smeared over each digit), he tells Tommy about what his father says, he grips his friend's shoulder with a soiled hand.
One out of three collected. And before the memory continues, before they find Hattie and Ezekiel and the torn remains of his mother.... he forgets. Horace forgets the pain, the way his face had burned as a shadow had sliced downwards. He forgets the fire, his father, his mother, everything bad. But he also forgets Hattie's red hair, Jan's sort of slanted smile and the way he moves. Horace forgets.
-----
He stood, pledge given, and curled his fingers into his stomach. Something was different, he'd known it would be... hadn't he? Shaking his head, he deliberately straightened his fingers and let them drop. His hair hung around his face, the length it of glossy and straight - vanity. There was a cold spot in Horace's gut, like something had departed, slithered out of him and left only hollowness behind. He wondered what had filled that empty space before. But these were unknightly thoughts, Horace told himself. They did not matter. He had pledged kindness, sincerity, his heart to be a home to his brothers. There was no room for weaknesses of his own. With a slight smile, he left the strange box behind, making room for others. And there were many others behind him.
OOC
My character's name: Horace Nokoni Character's journal link:Chapter journal | Journal BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER A tall, brown-skinned boy with blue eyes. He keeps his black hair long and usually tied back. Horace uses a pair of anelaces for weapons and as a knight, he focuses on second chances for everyone and strategy within battle. Rank of character Apprentice-Knight
