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 Posted: Wed May 27, 2015 7:43 pm
IF YOU FOUGHT PERCIVAL: +5 black door points. A memory unlocks. You feel Percival's despair as he fights you, and it is overlapped with another memory. You have seen Percival before, and you fought against him as he pinned you down and trapped you. It is a weapon memory.
IF YOU FOUGHT GAWAIN: +5 blue door points. A memory unlocks. You realize you have met Gawain before. He helped save those sick in your village in the past. It is a past knight memory.
IF YOU FOUGHT MORDRED: +5 black or blue door points (your choice). Your memories are jumbled related to Mordred. He appears to be both kind and terrible. You remember he was never on your side.
IF YOU FOUGHT GALAHAD: +5 black door points. A memory unlocks. You recall seeing the grail Galahad held before. You encountered him while guarding the grail from him. This is a weapon memory.
IF YOU NOMINATED YOURSELF TO LANCELOT FOR GREAT KNIGHT: +5 blue door points. A memory unlocks. You have met Lancelot before. He is the one that inspired you to become a knight. This is a past knight memory.
IF YOU WERE IN THE PRISON: +5 black door points. A memory unlocks. You realize you have been chained before. You feel pain, fear, and then nothing as your body twists into a weapon and you are sealed. This is a weapon memory.
IF YOU ARE A BLUE/GOLD/WHITE KNIGHT: +5 blue door points. A memory unlocks. You remember what brought you to Camelot in the first place. It was the collapse of everything around you. It was the despair that drove you forward and gave you determination. This is a knight memory.
IF YOU HAVE FIVE OR MORE SACRED CARDS: +5 blue door points. Your loyalty to serve burns strong. A memory unlocks. You remember training to one day become a knight. This is a knight memory.
20/20 even points
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Posted: Thu May 28, 2015 2:48 am
Her breath heaved and she wondered at the force of it in her body, cresting out over her lips like frothy sea foam. The knight pinned her, binding arms underneath his weight. Nonnie strained, back arcing, the pointed tip of her doctor's mask gleaming. If only she could get her arm free, her golden-tipped fingers could claw at his skull, rip the hair from his scalp, taste the blood at his throat (taking his pulse, in a way). Nonnie was, for the first time, afraid.
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Gawain closed the eyes of the baker with gentle hands. Horace's father stood nearby and they talked it low tones. He frowned impatiently, wishing he wasn't only six and therefore too young for anything at all.
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He changed his mind like he changed his sweaters. Pretty face, changeable heart and there was always something off about him. Nonnie crossed her arms contemplatively. That was it - it was as though the world held a very great joke, and Mordred was the only capable of understanding. So he laughed inside, and bits of it leaked out of the corners of his too-handsome smile.
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"You must not have it," she hissed with a voice thick and wet, as though gobs of flesh hung from her words, as though blood coated her tongue behind the mask. The Great Knight did not hesitate, the greed of the grail burning in his feverish eyes. He came closer and she slashed out.
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He watched Lancelot from his window. Horace was not allowed out very much and he treasure that through his window, he could see everything. The sun glinted off of his armor, dazzling him. Maybe, Horace thought, it would be better if he could be useful... like him,
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A soundless scream turned into a litany in Nonnie's mind. A desperate stream of medicines, poultice concoctions, anything she could methodically think of to shut out the horrible, bone-crunching pain. Was this death? She felt her body shift, twist, move and then, nothing. A sword.
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His hands were slick with it. It wasn't his own blood, but someone else's and he slipped, skidded in the dirt, now turned to a macabre mud. He needed to find her, his sister, save her. Horace was glad he wasn't here.
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His swords scraped along Jan's weapon and he laughed, breathlessly. Jan didn't like to fight, so this was rare, something to appreciate. Horace would become a knight in part because he wanted Jan to be proud.
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Posted: Thu May 28, 2015 5:48 pm
The two doors faced him, and neither seemed more important than the other. He rubbed his hands over his face, mind awash with memories that were his and not his. Honor, valor, idealistic notions seemed to almost drip off of the blue door, collecting in a pool of condensation at the base. It was tempting to follow that idealization, to pretend the world was a place where chivalr reigned and everyone lived and...
The black door swirled with smoke. The memories were not his, perhaps, but somehow, so familiar. They had taken everything from him. Horace had not seen his sister since coming to Camelot, had lost everything in his past. Jan was not even Jan anymore, but a man who wore his face and held nothing similar in his heart. It was hard, he thought, to give and give and have even more taken. He had only wanted to live with the other man, safe. Horace had nothing left. Fatalistic thoughts ran round his mind even as shadows began to curl around his arms. Instinctively, he reach out to the black door.
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