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.

[of_the_lake]

It would be justified embellishment. [Suffice to say, if people played up Lancelot's sins, it would be because he deserved scorn and admonishment. He wouldn't argue them.]

Just the same, you have nothing to apologize for. Unless you were personally in attendance, I couldn't expect you to have known for certain.

[gordianknots]

We could drop the matter now then and spend a lot of time on this network making awkward noises at each other, having shared this information.

[Waver has to admit though, he never would have expected this to be the attitude and personality of the Berserker he saw in action in the Grail War. He doesn't know what the right word for it is - remorse to the nth degree is a whole string of words that don't seem to be the right fit - and saying anything would probably steer them towards a new level of uncomfortable. Never mind reveal information that Waver wants to keep secret.]

[of_the_lake]

[Lancelot looked a little confused.]

...Awkward? [He didn't feel even a little bit of that. Waver might have thought it was weird, but Lancelot was more than comfortable being a despised, loathsome cur. It was just his lot in life, now!]

[gordianknots]

[Waver, in turn, just facepalms.]

Better known as me running my mouth, apparently.

[of_the_lake]

I'm concerned that you and I seem to be splitting paths in our conversation.

Was it something I've said?

[gordianknots]

Believe me, it isn't on you. [Waver takes a beat to try and get his words together, and to make sure that the next words out of his mouth are coherent as well as believable.]

I'm English, I'm familiar with the stories, so parsing talking to you in a way that's perfectly normal and ordinary versus the weight of legend is an exercise. Does that make any sense?

[of_the_lake]

No, it does. If anything, I suppose the only major inconvenience would be the portrayal of my motivations and speech patterns...

[He didn't care about the whole 'disparaging rumors that create a vast gap in the difference between reality and truth' so much as how 'he talked' was set in stone.]

[gordianknots]

I'm glad that I have at least a little clarity left in my words then. Is there a particular reason that those items stands out as the most inconvenient?

[of_the_lake]

The way a man speaks to others reflects highly upon the nature of his upbringing. My mother would be remiss if I were to have been brought up as someone who bored others with needlessly eloquent high-speech.

[gordianknots]

That's an understandable concern. I hope she wouldn't assume that everything written was an accurate transcription of your words though.

[Also Waver suspects that might have been a well aimed critique at how he's been carrying on. Point taken.]

Thank you for taking the time to explain things, and for indulging me, Berserker.

[of_the_lake]

The fey rarely understand the notion of myth and history being considered two separate entities in human society. She wouldn't get the notion and would most likely strike me.

[Laying it all on the table, there.]

That aside, you've been an adequate conversationalist in this regard. Your patience is admirable.

[gordianknots]

--I did not know that.

[And Waver's not going to comment any further on the matter. The frankness is less of a surprise though.]

Thank you kindly for the compliment, but I'd say yours outshines mine here.

[of_the_lake]

It's difficult to consider why, I suppose. It's because of their age and lack of contact with the outside world that they don't exactly understand our view of arts and literature as being entertainment.

They think we just chronicle history. [Two handsome men with long hair, complimenting each other over and over, so modestly. It was like porn for people who taught good table manners.]

And still, I cannot say my patience is admirable. I never felt it tested, while I believe my obstinate mindset and simplicity could have possibly irritated you.

[gordianknots]

The lack of frequent contact with the outside world does make sense, and I'm a little afraid to think of what would be made of the stories people tell about them.

[Truly, the only way it would be more magical is if it was in person.]

Certainly not, although I've noticed we've gotten on the extremely-long-comment-train-that-could-go-on-forever-without-us-trying-hard-at-all.

[of_the_lake]

[Of course, Lancelot was only then beginning to realize Waver was uneasy--]

...Would you like for me to allow you to return to sleep?

[gordianknots]

If you don't object.