A return..cont...

[DoS Archive]

Date: 8/17/97 1:34 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: Llenlleawc




The peaceful stillness of the lake was suddenly shattered by a figure rising out of the previously glassy water. Staggering out of the shallow water and onto the shore, the figure, fully dressed, collapsed onto his hands and knees, breathing heavily. After a few minutes, he composed himself, and rose once again to his feet. Brushing his coal black curls out of his face and behind his ears, the man looked about the countryside. All seemed peaceful enough, but he knew that, once he was discovered, all
would change. With a settling shrug, Lancelot squared his shoulders in the proper direction, and began walking towards Camelot.

The sun was just topping its arc in the azure sky when Lancelot crested the hill that should have revealed the beauty of Arthur's City to the weary traveler. What waited instead was almost profane to eyes that had carried the memory of bold white walls and shimmering towers. Where once the proud and beautiful Camelot had stood Lancelot now saw only black and gray. Camelot was dead. Horror gripping his heart, Lancelot staggered down the hill, gaining speed as he went. Before he had descended half
way, he was sprinting. With tears of rage, shock, and confusion streaming down his face, the exiled knight returned to the remains of what had once been the center of his world.

The city gates were unguarded, and upon closer inspection it was obvious as to why. The once mighty oaken gate was reduced to splinters hanging from twisted iron hinges. The remains of weapons, shields, and armor were lying broken and discarded in the mud. Lancelot stepped carefully past the wreckage and into Camelot. The streets were barren, with naught but the occasional starving cur moving from one abandoned house to another. The acrid smell of smoke still hung here in the city, though the last
of the fires had obviously gone out many days ago. Lancelot let his hand rest on the hilt of his broadsword as he made his way towards the castle. The winding streets and the occasional still-standing building into which he peered showed no signs of life as the knight strode through what had once been the jewel of all of the Celtic world. Families, those that had survived whatever catastrophe had happened here, had fled with almost nothing. Clothing, children's toys, even food, now spoiling, lay
discarded and forgotten in the wreckage. With the grim experience of a battle-hardened knight, Lancelot also noted the many brown and red-tinged black stains that could only be blood. His face hard, the knight reached the castle gates.

Merlin's tower no longer stood. In fact, most of the keep proper had been razed. It seemed as though someone had taken special pains to ensure that Arthur's keep could never be rebuilt. The city of Camelot, though well and truly destroyed, had not shown such signs of obvious and determined destruction. The townspeople's homes had been collateral damage, in some cases necessary, but not of any concern to those who had sacked the city. The palace, however, had not been left to stand. Someone had
spent several days ensuring that the castle was reduced to nothing but loose piles of stones, as if the purpose of the assault had been nothing more nor less than the razing of Arthur's home. With a grim need to understand, and to avenge if possible, Lancelot began digging through the wreckage, down, towards what had been the council chamber.
Cont...