James walked around in the forest on a lone hunt. His Camelot cape tied around him, he began to walk back to Camelot when he spotted a deserted Druid camp below him. Intrigued he jumped down the small hill and walked around it. He kept a hand on his sword just in case nobility was still hated around here. {You don't have to reply, it's just I love your blog and thought I'd leave a starter!}
sontoaprat
Mordred was on the farthest edge of the camp, collecting the last of the abandoned baskets from the remains of the camp, searching for something from his past. It was nostalgia that always led him back to this camp, where he had grown up and then left behind in search for brighter land. He was older now, and he had made many mistakes, but there was still a pull to the kingdom of Camelot, now brighter than ever with the darkness that was once there gone. He supposed magic was legal now-- it was possible, anyway, that Emrys had done something right once in his life. Mordred wouldn't know, having run from battle at the last second because he couldn't kill his king. He couldn't, he had refused, and he had been labeled a traitor and a coward from both the magical side and the side of the knight. The sound of leaves being trampled behind him startled him, and he turned, palm outstretched. "Who goes there?"
