Dark Prince of Camelot
You float in a space devoid of all things.
There is no light, no feeling, no thought, no time. You do not exist. You are beyond existing. You feel neither pain nor pleasure, neither joy nor sadness. You simply are.
And then there is a light.
And then there is a sound.
And then there is feeling.
Pain races through your body like fire catching oil slathered across your skin. You scream like an animal, no reason or understanding behind it. The purest expression of pain.
Mother.
You can feel her near you. You bask in her glory. No. Not hers. A shadow. Your mother is the sun. This is but the moon, engulfing you in stolen light.
"Annabelle!" Screams a voice. It is his, and yet not his. How strange.
Your sight has not yet returned to you, but as the fire in your bones subsides you feel the coldness of the Earth pressed against your cheek. You cannot move. You can only listen, and try to understand what is happening.
"Ah, yes. Very well done, Lady Queen." A man. His words drip with mockery. You have heard his voice before. It has not changed, like the other. It has not changed, like the light of your Mother.
"Annabelle, why?" A feminine voice, this time. Familiar and not. What is happening to you? Why can't you remember?
"He…he had Gavin. And Matthew. I couldn't…I had to…"
Mother. Not.
You open your eyes.
Light. Real light, not the mystical light of your mother or the stolen light of the woman who seems to be her, washes over you. You are in a cave.
"He awakens!" Says the man whose voice has not changed. "Welcome to the land of the living once again, Mordred."
Mordred. Your name. You seize that concept, hungrily grabbing hold and clawing for more of your identity. In the void, you were nothing. Here, you are Mordred. You are the son of Artura Pendragon, trueborn(?) heir to Camelot, the sole male wielder of the power of the Round Table. You are Mordred Pendragon, and you are
alive.
Somewhere deep in your heart, your power sparks. There is a roar in your chest as you take your rightful place in the world, and your power explodes out of you in glorious cacophony.
Your power is…
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Caledfwlch. A dark reflection of your mother's Excalibur, it cloaks you in shining armor and gifts you your savage blade.
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Jupiter. Lightning, not blood, flows through your veins. None will find shelter from the fury of your storm.
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Warden. Chains engulf and bind those that would harm you, an impenetrable defense.
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Raven. You summon birds from the ether and control them like your own body, as weapons or spies.
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Whisper. When you speak, people listen. Sometimes even reality itself bends to your honeyed words.
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Iron. Metal leaps at your beck and call, and all weapons know you to be their master.
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Resurrection. The endless legions of the dead are yours to command. You bleed, you die, you live again!
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Write In. Be reasonable.
And of course, there is a
reason you were trapped in the void, cast aside. There is a
reason you have been freed. The men and women who have assembled for your return to the world may think they know your story, but you are Mordred Pendragon, and you are...
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A Hero, Trueborn. The power which lives within you, the power of the Round Table, was not meant for men. Though your noble spirit fought valiantly, it was overwhelmed by the darkness clouding your mind and you were turned against your home, your friends, your Mother. But your senses have returned...somehow.
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A Villain, Blackhearted. You were born with the power to rule and the strength to take it from those who would deny you. You turned on Camelot of your own accord, to conquer it in your name, fly your banner from its highest tower.
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A Rogue, Undecided. Camelot was worth protecting, but the Knights of the Round Table had long since fallen to infighting. Your plan had been to destroy both Camelot and the evils that threatened it, and start anew...but your Mother did not take kindly to this treachery.
No matter your power, no matter your history, the road ahead will not be easy. For you are Mordred Pendragon, the Dark Prince of Camelot, and you have returned to a world far different from the one you left. You are Mordred Pendragon, and
nobody is ready for the change you will bring.