Video; OTA - Scrying Stone

[of_the_lake]

A MEMORY

The scene played out somewhat hastily. There had been an old man in a hood and robe, chiding the viewer for mucking around in a graveyard in the middle of a foggy summer morning, when it would have been better to have just gone home and had breakfast.

The knight replied, steadfast, claiming that his involvement in the graveyard had solely been to put the local village at ease--that he was simply trying to check if there were rustled spirits who needed to have their gravestones fixed in order to properly return to heaven. The old man chided him further as he fixed the gravestones until he reached one that had been perfectly intact, but knocked over into an empty space.

The old man warned him, saying it was dangerous to touch it. The knight, acknowledging this replied that it would be safer if a knight were the one to fix it and not a well-meaning child who might suffer the consequences, instead. The old man huffed and turned to leave, but stopped in his tracks as the ground burst. The gravestone was a trigger which summoned the rage of a dragon sleeping beneath the ground. The Earth split beneath their feet and from it came that fiery dragon, towering like a mountain as it spewed flames upon the two.

The knight, with abnormal haste, had shielded himself and the old man with a tall, pristine shield he had carried on his back. The dragon, scoffing and uttering curses at the two, hazed the forest around them, turning it into a wasteland of ash under a minute.

The knight ran on foot, chasing the dragon until he realized he would be outrunned. Whistling for his horse, the knight pursued by means of his steed, which tore through the forest, seemingly unaffected by underbrush, tree roots and uneven ground. Above all, it was a horse that was meant to match his ambition. Coming close to the local village, the knight called for a lance, which was tossed to him as he rode by. The villagers, he saw, wore faces of horror as they had seen the dragon pass in the air.

Catching up by the horse's abnormal pace, the knight hurled the lance he had been given with a ferocious gale that put a hole in one of the dragon's massive, scaled wings. The creature fell to the Earth, howling in pain as the knight jumped off of his horse and drew his sword.

There, the knight made his stand. He couldn't rest even for a moment, or else the dragon would recover, rise into the air and take off to kill innocent people. He muttered this over and over to himself, "I cannot falter, I cannot relax, I cannot even breathe or blink. Not until my King is safe, my Queen is safe, their people are safe--"

The dragon and the knight exchanged blows over and over and over. The dragon's claws uprooted the Earth with horrendous swings, its tail battered trees and sent them airborne and its teeth nearly split the knight each time he came close to slowing. In the end, both the dragon and the knight were littered with wounds, each tested to their endurance. The dragon, readying its breath one more time, breathed in so it could erase the troublesome knight from its sight. It gave the knight the opening he needed.

Despite his exhaustion, the knight rushed and closed the gap between himself and the dragon as it drew its breath. With an exquisite swing, he split the massive dragon's breast open with his holy sword, his shield raised to protect him from the fiery blood that gushed from its massive wound. As the dragon collapsed onto its side, the knight stumbled, the adrenaline coursing through him still keeping his heart beating hard. Pain began to gather in his limbs and his wounds despite that and he raised his sword over his head, ready to finish the dragon by cutting its throat. The fact that he was still standing, himself, was an inhuman feat.

"You inhuman monster," The dragon beckoned to the knight, asking him one question as the life in his eyes had begun to wane. "Creatures like you shouldn't exist--not only do you reek of the fairies, but you've killed a true phantasm. What name does my death possess, human?"

"Lancelot of the Lake," The knight replied somberly, his sword gripped tight. Despite the fact that he felt as if he would die soon, he still felt he could end the dragon's life with one more swing. "However, I was never a human in the first place. I'm nothing more than a knight."

His sword came down in his next breath and before the dragon was slain for good, the memory ended then and there.

(OOC: This is just a memory of Berserker's--him fighting the red dragon that he accidentally unleashed from a cursed graveyard. In case anyone's familiar with this legend, this is right before his weird thing with Elaine.)

Comments

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[gordianknots]

[Well that explains one of the great mysteries in Waver's life. There's honestly nothing about it that seems obvious in retrospect, he would have never guessed that Berserker's identity was Lancelot.

And while commentary is unnessecary, likely a bad idea even, Waver does want to keep the line of communication open.]

Is this why you declined to give your name, Berserker?

Video;

[of_the_lake]

[The knight had been sitting in camp, his helm removed since he saw the memory. His expression was simple--plain, even. He didn't seem at all bothered by what had happened.

If anything, it cheered him up just a little to see through those eyes, again. He remembered what it was like to be a good knight.]

No, that moment wasn't one of my shame.

[The morning after that, perhaps.]

[gordianknots]

[Waver switches over to video, just for the sake of matching.]

Er. I meant overall in regards to your identity. Apologies for not wording myself better.

[And a beat.] And should I still call you Berserker?

[of_the_lake]

One would assume that, upon seeing such a thing, that the title of 'Berserker' be all the more fitting a name for me. I would prefer it, but the name of the sinner being used would make no difference, either.

[Though, really, he had warped impressions of himself from the start.]

However, no, concealing my identity was a means to conceal my shame from others' minds, not simply to remain anonymous. Conversing with a true sinner cannot possibly be a joy.

[gordianknots]

I ask for clarification to respect preference. Berserker it is. [But, with that out of the way, Waver has to poke at the word choice being used.]

May I ask why you continue to use the word sinner in reference to yourself?

[of_the_lake]

Have you never been exposed to the legend of Camelot before?

[Because, really, he was certain that to everyone in the world, the name Lancelot was synonymous with the word sinner.]

[gordianknots]

I have, but what gets written down after the fact and what one's self view is are two very different things.

[of_the_lake]

...Most texts are correct. My rumored sins are actually truths. Rumors through the world's influence are not necessarily a factor in this.

[gordianknots]

--I see. It's usually hard to tell truth from embellishment in most cases.

[Bullshit, of course, Waver knows how the Grail works. Sometimes he does regret hiding his status as a mage.]

Please, forgive me the needless commentary on a private matter then.

[avisionofwar]

(OOC: since they're both in the war camp, would you mind if we do action?? 8D )

[of_the_lake]

(OOC: if you must aka please do 8D)

[avisionofwar]

[ Celegorm lingered not log after the memory, the image burned behind his eyelids. He roused himself from his camp and pulled his cloak on over his simple dress, seeking out the Beast who has, over the course of a short while, become very familiar.

He crouches outside of Lancelot's tent, by the banked fire. The red of it makes his hair, bound into a simple plait for sleeping, gleam like molten gold. ]

Are you yet wakeful, friend?

[ is voice is very small. ]

[of_the_lake]

I am. [In truth, Berserker didn't do much sleeping at all. He would rest and let his mind wander and in turn, he would remember. Heroic Spirits couldn't dream anymore, after all. Growth wasn't an option for them. Rather, he just went into a sort of half-awake stasis, conserving his energy rather than needing to replenish it.

Lancelot had been seated with his legs crossed on his propped up on his cot.]

Is there need of me, my lord?

[avisionofwar]

There is always need of you.

[ Celegorm's pale fingertips slip cleverly through the strings which keep the tent's wide flap closed; he barely seems to even touch them but they come undone for him. And he slips neatly inside, quiet as a cat, pale as the moon once the red light of the coals is blocked by the fabric of the tent wall. And thin-seeming, under just a woolen cloak and without armour to add bulk to his frame, foxy-featured enough that without other hallmarks of masculinity to lend to his cause he seems feminine instead.

The laces of the tent twine together as easily as the knot had slipped; and he speaks only as he moves forward. ]

But I've come only in need of your company. One beast to another.


You... didn't return the star.

[of_the_lake]

Hm. [Lancelot inclined his head, reaching beneath the confines of his patchwork tunic to remove the head of the stone he had held onto. The star he plucked out of the air. He remembered when he took it and when he had thought to return them to the kingdom. His options weighed, Lancelot didn't regret his decision.]

I had other matters to attend. I cast no value on this trinket and beyond that, I do not mind if the court finds my decision unfavorable.

[He considered it, staring at Celegorm a moment before averting his eyes.]

My task was more important.

[avisionofwar]

[ Celegorm moved forward; folded his long legs elegantly, sitting upon the floor before the knight, looking up at him. It's clear he's perplexed by this decision, and seems to weigh it before coming to his decision. His attention is just as pointed on the other man; utter. ]

One must do as he determines right for himself in the moment. Mine, I gave. Stars don't belong in these hands.

But, what task was set upon you that drew you with such urgency as that...?

[of_the_lake]

[For the moment, there was a trace of a smile on the gloomy knight's face. It was something earned by the dryads. He couldn't even help it as it came, remembering something utterly abnormal that had happened to him.]

As task I've never been put to, before. The Dryads of La Llorona had entrusted to me the task of planting a new Fairy Glen for them.

During my patrols, I've been keeping tabs on it.

[Suffice to say, he'd been running around the country-side, killing bandits and the like who had tried to pilfer the growing soil and plants coming from it.]

video.

[scinlae]

[ lancelot of the lake.

the words sit in the fore font of her mind as much as the image of the dying dragon. she thinks to laugh but no sound comes to her lips, a man named much like the knight she sent to his death. a pang of something stabs at her heart and she thinks perhaps she should ache more than she does. once she would. ]

Sir Lancelot, is it?

video.

[of_the_lake]

I've announced myself as such, I suppose. Though, it would be preferable if you referred to me as 'Berserker', my lady.

[As happy as he was to feel the presence of himself when he had once been a proud young man, he still felt dislike towards himself and what he had become. It was tough to enjoy the prior.]

video.

[scinlae]

You shun your own name?

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[of_the_lake]

Not only I. The entire world does. 'Lancelot' is a name shrouded in sin, my lady.

video.

[scinlae]

Truly? [ interesting. there is no sin attached to that name that she knows of, only mourning and woe and the honor of a knight. ] I believed Lancelot to be a great and honorable knight. A selfless man who could do no wrong.

video.

[of_the_lake]

There was a time for that before. Once. Now, no longer.

Glory and good may easily be removed in the name of a crime. My crime--it was among the greatest.

video.

[scinlae]

Did you kill your king? [ the thought is near laughable. but she wagers she may have an idea of what his crime was. ] Or did you steal his wife?

video.

[of_the_lake]

Both. [The first was indirect. The second was pretty direct.]

One way or another.