At first his smile had felt a little forced, an insistence of maintaining it to assure Noemi and the others that everything would be alright and a little for himself so he could believe it as well. Their journey had been tiring, it had waned into a small line by the events that had transpired upon them before they had gotten to their refuge had weighed heavily on his mind. Everything they had, everyone they knew... were gone. To put it simply, it sucked.
But their was relief at the end, a silver lining more than Milo could have hoped for. The brunet couldn't help but let out a laugh after the Great King's speech to them. There was a place for them. There were so many others that had heeded the call and now they all had a purpose. It was enough to rejuvenate his vigor, and he gave the smaller red head's hand a squeeze. They were going to be alright. And they were going to be able to right the wrongs that has befallen them.
Even with the cost.
(Though, this wasn't exactly the way Milo had desired to gain his knighthood, really. Not out of desperation. But with hard work, to earn his title and prove his valor. Tournaments to win, battles to fight with his head held high, his parents' proud faces and with Noemi by his side.)
Slowly, Milo crept with the rest of the line, his green eyes glanced occasionally at the great knights that had remained with them in the large hall, each one given a study. His gaze lingered upon the knight of blue, pulling away soon enough as his group began to make their vows before he was allowed to make his own.
"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 tone clear and steady, only a hint of its usual mirth. This was important. (Just because it wasn't exactly the way he planned it, he wasn't going to pass it up).
The memory grabbed hold of him like the hand that had gripped him tight when he had charged into his parents' home. Everything had erupted into chaos, the attack from the horsemen and their riders had taken them over so quickly. There were so many fires, so many bodies. They had been told to run but Milo couldn't leave without them.
"Protect her." There was such sadness in those eyes yet they were so filled with knowing. Her hand was trembling as it held his forearm, blocking him from any further intrusion into their home. "And be happy." His mother told him before a whispered goodbye and a final push back out.
The house was taken over by the darkness within seconds, leaving nothing but shambles and screams as those inside perished. Milo stared in horror, nothing registered. They were gone.
He felt himself pushed, told to leave. He had a job to do.
It had started out as such a great day too.
But it was then a forgotten day, like so many others that suddenly slipped from his memory. Milo rocked a little as he pulled from his now lost memories. His vision cleared and he blinked a little as if stepping out into daylight.
There was a small girl beside him, he realized, yet she was unfamiliar. Still though, he felt like giving her a smile.
OOC
My character's name: Milo Hale Character's journal link:link BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Milo is a tall young man, lean of build with short brown hair, bright green eyes and tan complexion. Always with a smile on his face and cheerful words. He likes to have at least one insanely bright blue item on his outfit. Rank of character Knight-apprentice
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 11:06 pm
It was rather a blissful feeling, to have the woman he loved there with him, her hand gripping his arm, her head occasionally coming to rest against his shoulder. The amount of affection she was showing him was uncommon, a mystery in and of itself to the large man who's thoughts were a little slow to catch up on what was going on, used more to acting on feelings then on common sense. It had not quite registered to him yet that she might be upset, or that perhaps he should be as well, and that her sudden attention was a result o those emotions. But it would. The closer they came to the front of that line, the more the puzzle pieces in his mind began to click into place, until that moment when she looked up at him and spoke, providing him with that final push towards clarity and understanding.
But still she confused him. He looked down at her, studying her eyes carefully with his own. "They may take my memories if that is what is required, but it will not change who I am, I will still be a warrior, and I will still love you. My feelings for you are too strong to be pulled away by some mere box." He scoffed, lifting an arm to gesture towards the artifact that they were now taking a step closer towards. Did he truly believe that he could not forget her? Yes, with all of his heart and soul he did, because she was everything to him, his mysterious, beautiful, clever Na'ima.
Yet she was able to remind him in an instant that he could very well be wrong, his gaze lowering still further to her arm and his own as she raised them up and brought their marks to his attention. The single feathered wing on his wrist, a perfect match to the one on hers, only complete when the two of them were together. It had been her idea to get them, a way to identify him should something terrible occur. He supposed, now, considering it further, that should he indeed forget her, that these were most asssuredly a good way to make them remember, again.
Yes. She was so wonderfully clever. Wrath's teeth flashed in a smile, a low chuckle forming in the back of his throat.
"If they are even necessary, yes, they will remain. Just as I will always remain yours." He affirmed, his free hand coming up to catch her fist as it dug lightly into his chest, fingers closing around her wrist gently.
Finally, the smile faded, as he began to realize just how serious this situation might be. She was certainly taking it seriously, at least, which meant that he probably aught to as well. "I will." He promised, brow furrowing, his words as sincere as he could make them, as if by doing so, that could make them true. "I could never be parted from your side. I love you, as well." And that was all that was needed.
Or maybe that's just what he needed to continue to tell himself to make this easier.
Pushing that sudden, small sense of doubt away, he took another step forward with her as they continued to close in on their destination, gaze suddenly intent before it was drawn back down to the woman beside him. She was looking at him, something in her eyes not quite like anything he had ever seen before. She was...studying him, and he did not know how to react, for a moment frozen between wanting to say more to ease that troubling look she was giving him, and just letting her look, for whatever reason she needed to.
"Kiss me."
Two words he was certainly not expecting, no less from her. She never asked for these things, just sort of...put up with it (though he knew she liked it. She would not return his affections, however grudgingly, if that were not the case). A small, surprised sound escaped his throat, and for a moment, he wondered if something was already changing her, his glance going back towards the artifact that they would soon approach, before going back to her.
But something in her expression, however hooded by the wrap of her scarves, eased away his worry, while also creating all new ones. So strange. But he was more than willing to oblige, at least, a small smile quirking the edge of his lips. Turning towards her more fully, one hand slid along the side of her face, his thumb brushing against her jaw, before it was buried in the scarves behind her head, tilting her face up towards him. The other hand went to her waist as he bent down and pressed his lips against hers, softly, then with slightly more vigor as she clung to him, his hand slipping around to the small of her back, holding her close, breathing her in when the kiss ended, his forehead pressing against hers before another light kiss was placed there as well. "I love you, so much, and I will be damned if anything will ever take that away from me." He murmured, his voice a low rumble as she pulled away from him, her parting words as charming as, well, always.
He smiled again. "I have told you that I will not, and I have never lied to you before, have I?" The grin broadened, and then died as she turned, his brows etching in a sudden, worried frown. "But you can not forget me either." He said it under his breath, so quietly that it had likely gone unheard. He watched her, closely, as she approached the box, as she slid to the floor, as she spoke the words. He watched her every movement and reaction, and waited, now with knots, knots, forming in his stomach.
When she rose, she stumbled, and on instinct he stepped forward as if to help her, but stopped. She was looking at her hands, her wrists. She saw the mark, she must have, and now she would turn around, and look at him, and remember him. She would, because that is what needed to happen.
She didn't turn. She only walked away. "Na'--" The name died on his throat as he watched her wander off, choked off by a sudden, overwhelming sense of emotion that welled up inside of him. She was gone. Truly.
But still, he had hope, that which he clung to as he shook off his moment of grief to move towards the box now himself. Kneeling, he spoke the words, those which he had only been eager to speak before, to begin his journey towards Knighthood.
But now.....
He gave his head a small shake, clearing it of negative thoughts. "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."
And I won't forget her. I won---
-------
He was with her when the attack had come. Of course he had been. She was his addiction, so incredibly alluring and beautiful and mystifying that he often found himself knocked nearly senseless just by her very presence. She had captivated him from the moment he first laid eyes on her, and he had known, that someday, she would be his, and he, hers.
So of course he was with her. Even if he hadn't been, she would have been the very first that he had sought out. Together, they had managed to escape, together, with her cunning, and his brute strength, they were able to survive. Together. Always together.
Forever and always.
------
Forever and always.
The thought slipped away from him the moment he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. The memories had come and gone in a rush, some melding together in a dark blur while others had stood out much more starkly. Moments of fear and ferocity, moments of intimacy, moments of his upbringing, of his training, of spending time with his friends.
Moments with her. Many moments. The first kiss, the first touch, the first I love you.
Gone. All of it just gone.
He rose to his feet, a hand lifting towards his head, where it stopped, a mark on his wrist catching his eye. A feathered wing, just one.
How odd. He thought to himself, as he gave his head another small shake, and began to move away, his hand dropping back to his side without a second thought.
OOC
My character's name: Wrath (Rathsvith is full name but does not go by this ever) Character's journal link:here! BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER: Long dark hair often pulled partially or fully back, dark beard, dark tanned skin, brown eyes, very tall and very muscular (think viking like) avvy ref! Rank of character apprentice knight
eight
Seussi
Ice-Cold Hunter
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Sparkly Bunny
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Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 11:13 pm
[ Abbi Killian ]
The tower was there first.
That's what she thinks when she is informed in no uncertain terms that she will forget everything she'd known of her life in exchange for the power to fight. The thought clarifies itself into a better phrasing and Abbi realizes she doesn't know much except for the tower, that despite its all encompassing rule in her life, she will truly be free of it should she accept. There is a sense of something, she hesitates to call it regret but it is some distant relation undoubtedly, but a feeling that perhaps there could have been more consent involved. That it would have been better for her to have left her prison-home of her own volition and chosen to be a knight rather than because her father had given his life so that she could flee the encroaching darkness.
Then again, not one person here got things the way they wanted. No one was allowed to consent to this turn of events, but they were at least asked to give up something in exchange for the honor of knighthood. It was small, but there is solace in that. So maybe it is because of all that thinking, but Abbi approaches with less worry than she thought she might. After all, she was just a girl in a tower with little to speak of in regards to herself. Now she can become a knight, she can become anything she wants! The horrifying things she saw before she arrived to the safety of the castle will become nothing more than a dream. It all felt dreadfully unreal, so in the end its better to be rid of it in the long run.
Incredible naive in her thinking, the girl clatters to her knees and lifts her chin to speak, finding herself unnerved firstly from just how many people were packed into the room and secondly because they were waiting for her. She's spoken plenty to herself in her lifetime, but never for an audience like this, and in her defense, its a little scary. When she first opens her mouth nothing comes out, but the girl quickly sucks in a breath and tries again. "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 tower was there first.
She had been born in it, kept locked in its circular rooms thanks largely in part to an overly cautious father who feared the world would take away the only family he had left. There might have been something silly like the town oracle prophesying a curse on the baby who'd killed her mother during birth, but the years had passed and made that a bit more fuzzy and more like the ramblings of a mad man who needed an excuse to cloister his only daughter away from society. The tower was everything in Abbi's life. It was home, it was her protector, it was her friend, it was her prison.
And now, it was all tumbling down.
Or it soon would be. There was darkness approaching, her father had seen the nearest town begun to fall and fled back home. In a moment of rational thinking he bundled Abbi up, made no ceremony of her first step outside, and shoved her into the world. Smoke rose from the horizon, the fallen town covered in inky jet black, as though the night had snuck in earlier than it ought to. Wrongness polluted the air, fouled its freshness and made the girl regret leaving at all.
But her father is yelling, shoving at her to go, just run in the opposite direction it doesn't matter where, someone will take pity on her surely, just go. And Abbi, spotting the strange forms departing the town and making quick work of the miles between themselves and the tower, takes a step away. If she stays, this tower will be her doom. That what father says, that's what he's yelling now as she shakes her slender shoulders. She wants to ask why he will not come with her, why he will not protect her like he had all these years before, but that answer is something she already knows. For her father, the tower is refuge. It is sanctuary, it is peace, it is respite, it is home.
So she runs. She turns and she piles her skirts in her hands and flees across the fields she's seen from above but never from within, she runs until it hurts, and only stops when she is whisked away by a stranger to Camelot. And only once, in all her running, does she bother to look back. It is quick, just a fast glance over her shoulder when she is far enough away that she thinks that a hill has been built high enough between her that she won't see anything. So, in a moment of curiosity, Abbi turns.
The tower was there first. The darkness was around it, second. The tower was there still, last.
It all swells, all in a moment as she begins to pledge herself against the fight against the darkness, and all gone when she closes her mouth. Abbi smiles up at the box, then the people who have not forgotten this moment of gravitas but still tell her to rise. As she does, there feels something great missing from her. Something familiar and encompassing that felt grand enough to have never forgotten. Whatever it is must not have been so good, for the feeling bubbling within her now is much stronger, much richer and therefore better. There is still worry in her heart for the fights ahead, but there is strength and hope and the ability to do something, to make something of herself. There is opportunity, and Abbi promises to herself to rise to the challenge.
OOC
My character's name: Abbi Killian Character's journal link:{X} BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER A petite girl with bright orange hair that would touch the floor if she hadn't piled a large portion of it onto her head. Pale skinned and freckled all over with wide blue eyes that flit curiously over everything. Rank of character Knight-Apprentice/ 1d4 Sacred Points obtained: ???/100
Posted: Tue May 05, 2015 11:30 pm
[ Maple Ziege ]
Tears had left streaks upon her cheeks, evident even after so much traveling and only added to the sad image of Maple Ziege; along with the mud and the blood splattered upon her robes. She had no idea how she made it, her body had gone numb not soon after leaving the shambled remains that was her village. Her mind simply blank, unable to process exactly what had happened. All she could do was cry.
Everyone was a complete stranger, was the first thing she realized as she looked about the great hall where the others had too found their way towards. No one looked familiar, leaving her with the dreadful thought that no one else from her home had managed to make it out alive as she had. It was an overwhelming realization that out of everyone, she had managed to live. Her. And it only set for more tears.
It wasn't the least bit fair. And it just didn't make any sense, her survival nor the offer extended to everyone in the room, herself especially. How was she supposed to right? How did she seem fitting for such a purpose? It was very tempting to Maple, at first, to decline and find a corner to cry in. But fate didn't seem to just be cruel, or maybe there was some resolve in there somewhere since she found herself getting in line just like everyone else. Just as a blubbering mess.
Her sleeve was damp with salty tears, her nose a bit runny by the time it was her turn. Maple stared at the box with pleading eyes before she did as the others and knelt before it. For a minute she was silent before she whispered her oath, "I-I........ pledge my service to the G-great King ..... and the Great Knights...... I will uphold the Knight's Code and p-protect this kingdom against the darkness."
Her eyes shut tightly as that day played throughout her mind.
How the darkness had swept over her town and how terror reached every corner. There was panic everywhere, she cried out for her aunts and cousins unsure of where they were. Trying to find them. Trying to help them find her, to save her. But they were simply not there. So many tried to fight off the invaders, to stop the shadows from their destruction but those so many fell without much of resistance. The shadows were just too much. So overwhelming.
The fight soon turned to fleeing and Maple found herself swept up into the crowd, still crying out for her family. Desperate to find them but she was too weak to push back and too scared to even dare trying. The whole village was aflame by then and she was so deep into the woods that the only thing she could do was keep heading away.
She never did find out what happened to her family.
And apparently never would as memories drifted from her. Maple opened her eyes slowly and rubbed at them gently to clear them and wondered why she had been crying in the first place.
OOC
My character's name: Maple Ziege Character's journal link:link BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER A small, meek, mousy brown haired brown eyed young girl. Maple is fond of hooded garments, so she is able to quickly pull them over her head when she feels overwhelmed. Rank of character Knight-apprentice
Jeremy Collins certainly did not look like a fighter. He was gangly, trembling, and looked as though he kept shifting between fighting the urge to sob, and looking as determined as possible as the line stretched on ahead of him, his lute gripped tightly in hand.
Songs drifted through his head as they each in turn stepped forward, some sung merrily, taught to him by his mother as she let him help pick flowers, by his father as they walked through the woods as he attempted to teach him how to shoot rabbits.
The loudest, most recent song overcame the others, flowing from his grandmother as they watched the estate burn, the rest fo the family inside.
Hath any loved you well, down there, Summer or winter through? Down there, have you found any fair Laid in the grave with you?
Sung as the embers smoked and sizzled and she ghosted behind him as he had tried to find any remains of the life they had once had there. A glimmer of a ring in the ashes, once from his father's finger, now tucked into his pouch.
’s death’s long kiss a richer kiss Than mine was wont to be– Or have you gone to some far bliss And quite forgotten me? What soft enamoring of sleep Hath you in some soft way? What charmed death holdeth you with deep Strange lure by night and day?
He had sung in turn, when his grandmother, old and frail and heartbroken, had not been able to make the journey. The stronghold had lay so close, but she could step no further...
A little space below the grass, Our of the sun and shade; But worlds away from me, alas, Down there where you are laid.
Of everyone that had been lost, it was only she who had actually had a grave, one he had dug himself a hundred paces from the road marker. This was a journey he would be making alone.
They had once been rich, enough to afford him the spectacles on his nose that he now slipped into the pouch at his belt, happy to follow the road near-blind. Rich enough for the bright colored garments he wore, and had been wearing all through the ravaging of his home, stained with blood and ash and dirt. All he had left was what few things were in his bag, and the lute carried soundlessly on his back. Since the song had faded from his lips, he fell silent the rest of the walk. He was not talented with horses, even if he had had one, but he probably would have made much better headway than on foot. It gave him time to think, to regret, to curl in a small ball by a haystack and sob a bit over his loss. To crawl back to his feet again and continue forward with rage and determination powering him forward. To run out of food, but not care.
To doubt what he could do.
The young lady ahead of him moved away, and it was his turn now. His breath caught in his throat as he approached the box, trembling through and through. Magic, his grandmother had always said, is a fickle and dangerous thing. Beware of magic. Best to tend to things yourself then to be at the mercy of a fairy's whims...
A deep breath. "I p-pledge my service to the Great King!" He shouted suddenly, as though volume could chase away the fact he was terrified. He had to do this. He was all that was left of the great Collins household. "AND THE GREAT KNIGHTS! I WILL UPHOLD THE KNIGHT'S CODE AND PROTECT THIS KINGDOM AGAINST DARKNESS!"
Never again would a family be slaughtered. Their households shattered. Not with him at the watch. No more innocent blood splattered.
No sooner had the vow been uttered, his mind was awash with emotions. His father screaming for them to run, his mother's bloodied body limp in his arms as the shadow ripped past. Stumbling, running, carrying his frail grandmother over his shoulder, it had all happened so fast, so fast...
As though the memories had been a dream, they began to fade, and with a sigh, they seemed to lift from him like a fog in his mind.
Why was he weeping? He straightened his spectacles and wiped his cheeks, giggling with a bit of excitement. A real knight's apprentice! Him! songs leaped through his head, begging to be picked out on his instrument, although he couldn't for the life of him remember where he had learned them...
song notes
From Song from Chartivel Marie de France (1155-1189)
OOC
My character's name: Jerry Collins Character's journal link:Link BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTERA picture is a thousand words. 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: Wed May 06, 2015 12:38 am
[ Szczeosny Brzenczyszczykiewicz ]
Szczeosny bit his lip underneath the mask.
How could he not be a little bit uncertain? It was only days ago that he had been pulled from the rubble of a burned-out building by several scouting knights of Camelot. Not in his own village - he’d been traveling for some time now, darting from one shattered refuge to another. His home was long since buried in endless night, and constantly running gave him no time to mourn. His conviction was crumbling; and with it, any hope that he could stand against whatever came for them next. Impurity ran through his soul like a faultline, threatening to tear him apart. Now, there was nowhere else to go, and no choice but to pledge to a new king, and a new plan.
He wondered if he was lucky, or if he was just prolonging the inevitable fate that seethed in darkness just beyond the horizon.
They shuffled forward one at a time, ragged peasants and cast-down nobility alike, into what had once been the great hall of a majestic castle. He drew his scorched and weather-beaten cloak around him, staring through the throng as the feeling of magic had finally begun to seep through the air. Ten bodies stood between him and the box, then nine, then eight, and fewer still with each minute. He could hear the murmured pledge above the din of whispering voices, a repetitive chant often followed by screams and sobs before they were led away.
Of course he had been thinking about it. A sacrifice of memories, for the fate of humanity. Everyone would have to pledge more than mere servitude to their knight and king. It would be as though he had never been - and someone else would take his place, in his skin, unburdened by the darkness that blossomed with every doubt and failure. They would carry the scars of so many failed rituals and purifications, and never even know.
The woman in front of him began to wail, and then just as suddenly went silent, wide-eyed. He watched as she was led away. He stepped forward, and the many-headed serpent of a line behind him shuffled into place.
He kneeled before the artifact.
Szczeosny reached behind his ears to undo the clasps, and slowly pulled the birdlike mask away from his face. Underneath that expressionless visage he was pale, weary, and gaunt. He licked dry lips, glancing between the assembled knights and the Great King, giving extra pause to look over his sworn leader, Mordred. The box yawned, empty, humming with unseen power. The air was choked with ashes, and he could practically taste them - outside, in the distance, great black clouds rolled toward them telling of villages lost to fire and plague. Every breath like this was poisonous.
But they would not have accepted a pledge from a man who would not show his face to them. "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."
Nothing happened, at first. The box continued to radiate a powerful, ancient force, but there was no light, no sound, no sign that it had accepted his sacrifice. With practiced hands he positioned the mask back in place, and gasped for the clean, rose-scented air within.
It was like someone had placed white-hot coals in his heart. He clenched his fists, his teeth. The pain was tearing him apart, and everything that he had left behind rushed forward as hatred consumed him. He could see his village - he could see every lost village he’d fled - as they shattered and burned, as the darkness screeched and howled and consumed them. The faces of those who had fallen, contorted in agony. The smell of blood, the smell of rot, overwhelming his senses. The guilt of leaving the weak and wounded behind to face their fate. The screams of the dying rose like a chorus in his ears and he clutched at his chest, fingers, digging into the snake-embroidered tabard and threatening to tear through into flesh.
And then the push became a pull, and all that was laid before him was dragged into the box. He didn’t bother to grasp at what was vanishing, or try to fight the current for even a single memory. Instead, he prayed, a silent hymn he mouthed behind the mask in a strange tongue. Even as he stumbled and faltered over missing words, whole verses, he was smiling. For a brief moment, was purified of darkness, and he reveled in it.
And then, still smiling, he rose to his feet. A knight-apprentice of Camelot, and nothing else.
The hall, cavernous when he had entered, now seemed small as he prostrated himself before the leaders of the cabal of knights, dark eyes glinting with fury. He reeked of ash, clothes torn by fire and flight. He was of a noble breed, educated, and perhaps he had been happy, once. He’d lost everything, and all that remained in his cold heart was the desire to see the end of things. He could imagine the riders’ necks snapped, the horsemen impaled by sword, the darkness set ablaze until every shadow was purged from the world for-ever.
But that wasn’t what the Great King had in mind, was it. No, it was not enough to devote oneself to the utter destruction of their enemies. His conviction should have spoken for itself, he thought bitterly. What use would he be to them without it?
His mouth split open slightly, the faint baring of teeth. It was wrong. It was wrong to forget. It was wrong to think they could simply remove their burdens and become hallowed heroes when there would be no purpose to them. How could they fight the darkness if they didn’t remember every moment what it had done to their homes and families and friends? They would not even be able to conceive of the vengeance owed to them.
And yet, there was no other choice. If this was the last stand, he was going to fight for what he had lost. No matter what foul sorcery was involved, if he did not cast his lot in with the Great King of Camelot, there would be nothing left at all. And it was better to imagine himself fighting without understanding, than dying pointlessly with it. "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."
It was practically a hiss. The box seemed to give pause, and he felt his heart race in anticipation of what he knew was to come.
The air around him burst into flames. He howled, clawing his hands over his face at the spectral display. And the sounds. The smells. Burning bodies, rotting flesh. Fire.
He was there again, in the ruins of the estate. Armed with nothing but a pitchfork, fighting off the beasts that attempted to break the barricade. One by one the hopeless had ended their lives. Some went quietly. Others wandered out into the open, and welmed death at the hands of the horsemen.
Until there were only two left who hadn’t given up hope. They were going to die there.
But -
…
…….
………………..
Aymet straightened up, quietly. He felt strangely tense, but that seemed almost funny the more he thought about it.
After all, he’d never been angry in his life.
OOC
My character's name: Aymet Character's journal link:here BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Tall, dark, dreadlocked. Black armor. You know. No wings or tail or dragon stuff but the rest of him is pretty accidentally accurate. Rank of character apprentice knight Sacred Points obtained: ???/100
Posted: Wed May 06, 2015 5:54 am
It was almost funny.
Out there, they were like cattle, being prepared for slaughter. Slaughter by the shadowlings, slaughter by the horsemen, slaughter by the strange humans who thought it okay to serve underneath them. It was a sad existence, at best. A bitter one barely worth living at worst.
Here, they were like cattle being led to the slaughter, too. The only difference was that they were physically being left alone. Memory, as she was aware, would disappear as if it had never existed in the first place, fed to a box and likely leaving her a shell of whom she once was.
But did she care?
That, indeed, was the greater question, and Nkosazana's bitter laugh told the tale. All that could flood her mind as it was were memories of her brothers and her father. Oh, her mother was perhaps lucky, dying long before the invasion of their little home started. They called what killed her a mysterious disease, but that was fine. At least she was not physically ripped to shreds and buried proper.
She laughed again.
It seemed her laughter was not fully appreciated for its beauty, and the knight apprentice behind her shushed her. The tall woman rolled her eyes, turning back towards the box in front of her. It was time to be slaughtered, wasn't it? To become a happy shell of a woman?
Kneeling down, she knew it was the only way.
"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."
It was strange, how it all started.
Zet had said he saw something coming for them. That they needed to hide. They had done it before, and they could certainly do it again; that is, they could hide themselves in an undetectable manner. Her other brother murmured that he was tired of hiding, and almost willing to accept their fates and just stand their ground for one last time, but Zet was insistent. They had to hide. They had to, because their very lives depended on it.
Of course they did.
Perhaps she should have thought something unusual about his behaviour, but it honestly never struck Nkosazana as anything out of the ordinary. There were horsemen, and they needed to hide from the horsemen.
Simple enough.
Until, perhaps, it was not. Her brother had always been fairly weak-willed, she thought, in retrospect. Of course he could be convinced to gets them all into one nice spot for the slaughter. Like cattle, really. They were all cattle for slaughter, including him. But if he could sell them all out, perhaps he could graze for just a bit longer and enjoy his miserable existence for just a few more seconds.
But for him, that would have been okay, wouldn't it have been? Because for one last time, he won. For one last time, he laughed. For one last time, he was lauded for his villainy, even if it would come at the cost of his own sanity.
At least he could scrape out just a few more miserable seconds.
He'd get what was coming to him eventually, of that she was certain.
He'd pay for the slaughter of their father, and their brother.
He'd pay for making her into this.
When Nkosazana stood, she snarled aloud, and she couldn't remember why. What made her so angry? She needed to keep her calm, as that was the only way she would be able to learn her training properly. One couldn't think when upset. She had a hard enough time with this physical violence thing as it was, even with a clear head.
She walked out much calmer than she came in.
OOC
My character's name: Nkosazana Character's journal link: [Here] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Nkosazana has relatively short wavy black hair kept back. Her eyes are of a similar shade, and her skin is the colour of chocolate. She tends to dress extremely simply, even when armoured, which results in a methodology that seems to rely on no one nearing her physical body in the first place. Rank of character 1d4
Seiana_ZI
Codebreaking Conversationalist
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Minsuil
Enduring Elder
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Posted: Wed May 06, 2015 6:24 am
Elliot
The box in front of him was as plain as it was unassuming - if not for the aura around it. It seemed to pulse with energy. The sigil caved on it seemed sinister. Elliot watched as the others bowed down in front of it, offering whatever memories they had. Some where unwilling but each and everyone of them bowed down and gave their memories to the box.
When it was his turn, he did not hesitate. Elliot's sank to his knees, bowed his head and was not afraid. Memories meant little to him.
"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 laugh, a tree on a hill, three children. Gray eyes, red eyes, blue eyes. The sunset in the mountains, the moon above the sea. A warm hand on his shoulder. The sting of a wooden blade on bare skin.
Wolves howling in the distance.
Flames, burning flesh, crashing timbers. Shadows. He felt talons piece his leg, and he heard a scream that was not his. It echoed in his chest, stung in his mind, haunted his dreams for every day since then. A single name on his lips.
Emmaline.
Then nothing. Elliot stood up and smiled. He was a knight-apprentice now. It was the first step to power, to strength. Vaguely, he thought that they'd be proud, but he could not recall a name and the thought left as quickly as it had come.
OOC
My character's name: Elliot Sjökron Character's journal link:x BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER A tall and well-built lad with brown hair. It has a golden sheen in the sunlight. Blue eyes. Has a carefree air around him and a smile that doesn't quite reach all the way into his eyes. Rank of character Knight-apprentice, 1d4
Posted: Wed May 06, 2015 7:23 am
Cain felt sickened as they stood in line, waiting, hand in hand with the woman he had come to love. Fingers coiled tightly around dirtying the fingers he held, ink and dirt stains rubbing off with the sweat of his nerves. Light blue grey eyes flickered right then left before settling on the face that had calmed him down for so many moons prior to this. His soil, what kept him firm and helped him grow, she was truly his everything now in every sense of the word. Considering there was no part of his past left, they had all been- Abel even he the man who educated Cain had not been able to flee fast enough and it was all Cain's fault. He hadn't been strong enough to protect everyone, hadn't been smart enough to form a plan to take over where Abel's had failed.
Thump thump.
Cain swallowed back down his beating heart, the racing of which rang in his ears as the line moved and their steps drew them closer to the box that would take his everything. There was still time to turn back. A glance to the mahogany haired beauty at his side and Cain couldn't do it. Because even forgetting her would help protect her. She would be safe here, free from the nightmares that haunted her memories, so for her Cain moved forward then paused. Turning back the hand still holding Nellie's stroked a thumb across smooth skin, a step in and Cain's lips crashed hard against his mahogany haired lover, murmuring against them just for her as he pulled back, " even if my mind forgets you, my heart will not and I promise it will seek you again."
A promise he couldn't keep but delivered regardless to settle them both, a kindness.
Slowly and reluctantly their hands slid free from one another and he turned to kneel before the box, in wonder and fear of it. This thing, would it strip him of just his memories, would there be more? Abel had warned him of magic, spoke in the ways of respecting it but this, he couldn't help but question what all it would take. Who he would be after it was done with him, would it still be him? Was this what he wanted?
A cough from some unruly line member behind him and Cain inhaled sharply. Swallowing fear, sadness and doubt his blonde head dipped lips parted and he spoke without hesitance, though a clear tremble of fear in the young mans tone, "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." Because he had too.
------- Able came frantically through the stables, yelling, screaming as he held a sword in hand. He called to him and Cain came as always, a horseshoe in one hand and a smile. It wasn't time for lessons and Abel had blood covering the entire front of his body. The hot smell of iron from it sickening, Cain's stomach rolled a feeling he could never forget as nostrils flared and he begged to know if Abel was alright and of what was going on.
There was no time to explain, fire caught to the stables and blared, horses screamed too frightened to get away and their voices haunted Cain as he fled from them unable to help and follow the running Abel. Horsemen. The fine ladies of the palace were running past them, some half dressed others holding the bodies of their husbands or children and crying. Madness. Cain's body had never felt so alive, his mind never before been so chaotic, it was brilliant. Racing past people, Abel paused abruptly as if finally remembering where he was going, turning he shoved a brown leather bag into Cain's hand and instructed him to find the horses hidden behind the palace and take whomever he could along with him but flee.
Flee now.
Cain tried to argue but was met with a firm backhand, a bow to his mentor, father and he turned to run. Trying as he went to pick up followers but those that joined him were picked off one by one, he had been the only one that arrived to the five horses. And he couldn't stop, that hadn't been the plan. A kick to pure muscle and he was being carried away from smoke and screams, only to turn back to see Abel cutting free the reset of he parked horses. He would never get to ask why because within a second Abel was killed a horsemen.
------ The box closed and the teen stood, for a moment almost confused as to why tears were rolling down his freckled cheeks. Perhaps he had been overcome with happiness, he felt good enough to believe that. Lighter even as he walked right past a woman in line without a second thought other than that there was work to be done.
OOC
My character's name: Cain Roy Character's journal link: [ x ] BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Look at Avatar! His hair is short, blonde in color and curly. His eyes a light blue grey, to which are normally squinted since he suffers from nearsightedness. Freckles across nose and cheeks. He is usually decked in medium armor, since to strike he tend to have to be fairly close to see his enemy. Rank of character Apprentice-knights.
baby_gwing
QUOTE MORE PEOPLE IF YOU ARE TALKING OT THEM
Cheekiebirdiee
Mysterious Kitten
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baby_gwing
Fanatical Raider
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Posted: Wed May 06, 2015 8:05 am
[ Nellie ]
To be a knight, to be granted power that would be needed to fend off the horsemen and the shadowlings that plague their land, she would have to sacrifice her memories in exchange for all that. Nellie felt her hands turn cold the moment that was made known to all of them. Without the memories of who she was and what she had been through, would she be the same person ever again? Would she lose too what little she had now, including Cain whom she came with to pledge their servitude as a knight?
Standing in the line and waiting for her turn, she turned to look at Cain. This was too great a price to pay. She wanted to tell him that. Perhaps the both of them should turn back while they can. Find an alternative that wouldn't require them to run the risk of losing their original selves and, more importantly, each other.
" even if my mind forgets you, my heart will not and I promise it will seek you again."
No fair. It was almost as if Cain had read her mind and knew exactly the words that would put her mind at ease so that they could each in turn follow through with what they had come all the way here for. She clung onto him, tears springing forth in her eyes as she reluctantly released him, watching him take his place before the box while the feel of his lips against hers still lingered at the back of her mind.
"Nellie will hold Cain to that..."
When he rose to walk past her without so much as glancing her way, she felt her heart sink in her chest at what was about to come. There was no turning back now however. A life without Cain at this point was as good as one forfeited. There was nothing to do other than to follow in the footsteps of her lover and hope that what he said about finding her would eventually come to pass.
Stepping forward to kneel before the box, she recited the pledge like many others before her and the memories surged from within her.
"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."
~~~~~~~~
Everything happened so suddenly. First there was fire then the bloodcurdling screams and cries of the anguished and dying that came from those the horsemen found in their paths. By the time the entire village realised what was happening, the horsemen had already lain waste to half of it and there wasn't any hope of anyone outrunning them and escaping even if they mounted the fastest steeds they had right there and then.
"Come Nellie. This way. Hurry..."
She had followed her parents obediently at their bidding, only realising what they actually meant to do the moment they pushed her into the underground cellar and locked her in as a last ditch attempt to keep her safe and ensure that she had the best possible chance of surviving it all. She cried of course. Cried and begged for them to open the door and save themselves as well. But they stood fast by their initial decision to put her life before theirs no matter what happened.
It was a really long time before the cries stopped and all was silent beyond the thick set of doors that had kept her safely out of harm's way. By the time she was released from the underground cellar by the group of knights that was despatched to investigate the disturbance, it was already too late for the rest of the village. She never found her parents and only assumed that the worst had befell them.
~~~~~~~~
Lifting her gaze from the ground, Nellie wore a smile on her face as she rose. She was going to begin life anew henceforth and there was much that needed to be done.
OOC
My character's name: Nellie Fenette Character's journal link:Here BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Her hair is long and mahogany in colour, secured in a ponytail. Her eyes blue-grey. She is usually decked in light armour, preferring to pick at her enemies from afar with her longbow, only resorting to close combat if absolutely necessary. Rank of character Apprentice-knight
Cheekiebirdiee
Posted: Wed May 06, 2015 8:10 am
Cherry moved forward towards the box slowly, though considered what she was doing, and felt in her heart this was the right thing to do. She had to do her part to serve the kingdom and ease the pain of others around her. She waited her turn in the line, once she reached the box she took a deep breath, touched the box and made the pledge.
"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."
Cherry was swept into the past, blood and death coated her small demon village, screams filled the night. She looked up at the moon high over head, beautiful, which made those dying around her seem all the worse. Cherry wanted to stay and tend the wounded, but she was alone, and the horsemen were everywhere. Her family was already dead, dark blood filling their small home. She remember the scent of all the death around her, the blood flowing across the ground. Cherry had been afraid but she knew she couldn't linger there or she would die like everyone else.
Cherry crawled through the shadows following the moon, narrowly escaping being trampled by horses. Then suddenly her memories were gone, she blinked feeling lighter than she ever had before. She would serve the king and the green knight. Cherry would become strong and aid as many people as she could, the past was gone, it was time to start a new day!!
Nystal was no stranger to sad stories. He knew many tragedies by heart, written by the greatest authors of his time. None of these stories could compare to the ones being told around him now. Stories of death, loss, and sorry. His story too, was one of grief and regret. While he waited his turn to take the pledge, Nystal reminisced in his memories of home for the last time.
Only four days past, the morning of the attack, Nystal was sharpening the blade of his family sword. It was a magnificent blade. The phases of the moon lined the cross-guard, and a full moon shined brightly at the pommel. A light blue, silk strap was tied to the grip of the sword.
It was his mother's blade. She fought against the darkness for many years. She died a martyr when she faced off against one of the stronger foes of the darkness. She saved their village, but her wounds were too great and she passed soon after the enemy retreated. Nystal was given her sword, and her blacksmith shop. Barely a man, he worked the forge for a living, and trained in the ways of the sword so that he might one day fight to protect like his mother had.
Nystal was a story teller. He knew hundreds of stories from poets and authors from around the world. He knew them like he knew his own name. He told these stories to everyone's delight. That evening he was telling his favorite story about Corwin the Bard of Sandstone. He sat on the edge of the fountain, in the center of town. He was surrounded by townsfolk of all ages. They gathered around him, and listened with all attentiveness to his words.
Corwin the Bard of Sandstone was a magnificent tale of cunning, bravery, and courage against tyranny, and the darkness. There was once an evil king who ruled with an Iron fist, and whom was allied with the darkness. Corwin's adventures ultimately led to him dueling with the evil king. Nystal described the Epic battle expertly. His audience was captivated waiting to hear the outcome of the fight. That's when it began.
Just as Nystal described the final fatal blow from Corwin to the evil king, a piercing scream was heard in the distance. It came from the edge of town. Expressions of shock, and worry filled the audience. Soon more screams, and yelling began to be heard from all around them. Nystal lept quickly from his seat, and implored his audience to run home and lock their doors. He ran to his home, and along the way he saw the beasts responsible for the anguished screams of the townsfolk.
He tried not to think on it further. the memories from there on were too painful. He had grabbed his mothers sword, and ran about the town trying to save his friends and neighbors. He would slay a beast and save a life, only to have another beast take the life he had just saved. Nystal decided retreat was the best course of action at this point. Half of the town had been murdered and only death waited here for him. Nearly out of the town, Nystal ran across a horrid scene. An entire family lay slaughtered at the foot of a giant. Only a child was left standing. The monster's mouth descended upon the child intent on swallowing her whole. Nystal readied his blade and charged at the beast. He ran him through the eye and the beast reeled away in a terrible, thunderous, roar. It fell back, taking his mothers sword with it. Nystal grabbed the girl and ran with her, as far as he could, as fast as he could. He did not stop running for nearly a day and a half. Finally he collapsed with exhaustion. He set up a makeshift camp, started a fire, and gathered some berries. He and the girl ate in silence, and soon his eyes faded to sleep. When he awoke the girl was no where to be found.
Thinking back on the past few days, Nystal realized something. He was not terrified, or racked with grief like many of the others that stand in line. He was simply confused as to what happened to the girl. Where did she go, and why? He pondered for a long time, until he was next in line. Standing so close to the box he wondered if he would remember any of the stories he knew. Would he lose all of them, maybe only some? Was the library in his head worth the safety of the kingdom? Suddenly this became the biggest thought on his mind. What if he forgot his original stories? the ones that were not written down. What if he forgot he even liked stories?
He then though of all those the darkness had killed. All of those lives lost, all of their stories. He shook his head, no this is worth it. For the safety of the kingdom, to prevent the darkness from destroying everything he loved, and to create the best adventure of all, he would give up his memories.
It was his turn now, he stepped up to the box. He spoke the words, his oath.
"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."
Nystal's mind hazed over as endless tales of adventure, comedy, tragedy, and truth were drawn from his mind. He felt dizzy as though a whirlpool were spinning in his head. Tales of Corwin the bard mingled with the grizzly deaths of the townsfolk. His last thoughts were of the girl who disappeared. It made him feel alone. His memories were gone.
Nystal stepped away from the box and looked at his fellow knight-apprentices, and he began to weave a new story.
OOC
My character's name: Nystal Character's journal link:http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=24689771 BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF MY CHARACTER Nystal is a tall athletically built man. He is larger in the chest and shoulders from his time in the smithy. He has a voice of smooth honey, and is capable of telling a story so captive you will forget to breath. He has sky blue eyes, and a dark blue hair. It is dyed of course, but he keeps it a closely guarded secret. Rank of character Apprentice-knight ** DONT FORGET TO DISABLE YOUR SIG WHEN POSTING**
HERE YOU SHOULD QUOTE ANYONE YOU ARE TALKING TO
QUOTE MORE PEOPLE IF YOU ARE TALKING OT THEM
Posted: Wed May 06, 2015 9:26 am
[ Nergui ]
The dirt didn't even show on dark skin, but Nergui could still feel it. A fine patina of grim clinging to every exposed inch. She was trying not to think about it, which wasn't as difficult as it might have been, given the situation.
In their place in line Nergui kept a firm, almost desperate hold on the younger man in front of him. Her arms around his shoulders kept him pressed back against her chest, and he'd feel the heat of her breath in the back of his hair. At some point she'd murmured an apology to him, but her grip never loosened. She couldn't. Not when he was the only one left to her.
Wherever Siren was, she hoped he'd escaped the darkness that had fallen over the country. She prayed for it, a never ending record in her mind. He was alright, he had to be alright. Wherever he was, he would survive this.
A cold, betraying little voice told her it didn't matter, that she'd forget him, and Ollie, and the house that they all shared in the village they'd been forced to run from as it burned.
There were things she should have been saying to the young man she clung to, but the words stuck in her throat. As the lined shortened, as their turns approached, she could do nothing but hold him tighter, kiss the back of black curls, before she was forced to let him go.
"I pledge my service to the Great King and the Great Knights. I will uphold the Knights code and protect this kingdom against the darkness." The words were a bare whisper.
-----------------------------------------------
"Ollie! Come on!" Darting around a corner, she spotted him fending of a cluster of encroaching shadows. Her feet couldn't move fast enough as she raced for him, dodging around a swiping claw and the body of a man falling to her left. People were dying all around them, homes burning, but Nergui didn't dare turn her attention away from the teen. Afraid she'd lose him again in the chaos.
A desperate kick sent a shadow body squealing as she reached him, and she made a grab for his hand, pulling at him to get him moving so they could escape.
They didn't die. The shadows didn't die, but the people could, and they did. She watched a clawed talon tear into the baker's throat as they raced past him, and Nergui pulled at Ollie harder.
-----------------------------
The smell of smoke and blood faded, the fear receded into puzzled concern, and the gold eyes that blinked down at those still waiting in line were completely alien.
(Will add the stuff when I get home)
Beejoux
Wrathful Demigod
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chiickadee
Princess Hoarder
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Posted: Wed May 06, 2015 9:35 am
[ Lock ]
Unlike many present that day, Lock was alone. He looked somewhat out of place among so many commoners; his arm glistened brightly and he held his head above it all. Of course, his armor was only embellished by a false sense of confidence ridged in the grooves of the pieces. He was alone now. He knew that. They were gone, and they would remain in the ground, buried under billowing piles of putrid shadows.
Lock listened carefully to the king. The murmurs of the people meant nothing to him; Lock knew they were pawns- they were all pawns. It was in the hands of the powerful that worth and honor remained. He had always served, and coming to the knighthood would be no different. Those who were in power controlled the means of life.
Those who choose to uphold justice are the valiant of heart, the strong of mind-
Lock's fists clench at his side. Stern voices long past. Lock remembers mahogany, he remembers long empty halls and a brusque pace to his father's war chamber. He is to report. He is to uphold-
"There is a way to fight against the darkness.You must follow a Great Knight's path of conduct and choose a Sacred Weapon."
A weapon is a placeholder. A weapon is neither good or bad; it is the wielder who upholds justice. Always remember this, heir of Blackwood: a weapon is a tool to administer honor. It is nothing more. Lock's armor feels heavy. The riders are coming, they are coming and-
Only a true knight can wield it, those too weak will fall prey to madness.
His chest tightens, but Lock has been trained not to disturb his armor. He holds himself with a vapid confidence, one that does not err in any situation. His palms sweat, but they are clenched together, linked on the small of his back. He remembers a different kind of sweat.
Madness.
It will not grieve him here. They are gone, it is dead. The war is over.
This is why the Trial of Knights exist. Follow the knight code, complete your trials, and you will be granted a Sacred Weapon.
The war is only beginning.
This is the thought that dawns on him as his eyes sweep over the official lineup of knights. Impressive, certainly, as any high ranking officials would be. Lock had to envy them if only based on opportunity and circumstance; perhaps if he had been born in a different place and time he might have stood among the council as well. Lock wondered what it was exactly that made these knights stand apart. What wavered within their hearts to allow them such power? Was it battle prowess? Intelligence? Character of heart? There are any number of traits that Lock can muse through, but none ever really settle and feel correct.
The choice is simple, considering the path was laid out for him long, long ago. Galahad the gold who stands guarding the code, honor and glory is the clear choice. His heart wavers for a moment, intoxicated by the allure of the blue knight's selfish protection. In Lock's heart, he knows that saving those in need is the true meaning of justice.
You are the law and the law is not marked, Lock.
He kneels his fealty with ease. He was born to serve, made to carry out the code, the law with honor.
We are defined by our adherence to order.
"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 memories are lost, but the feeling is not. He stands, tall amongst the crowd. He is a knight of the knights of Camelot and he will uphold justice.
