#SAgramore sent the last one for sure

[badsalmonella]

Lancelot getting anon hate from the round table.

[2gameprince]

Lancelot (Incomplete)

There were forty-three of us back then. Arthur, Gawain, Geraint, Percival, Bors, Lamorak, Kay, Gareth, Bedivere, Gaheris, Galahad, Tristan, Aglovale, Agravain, Bagdemagus, Baudwin, Brastius, Breunor, Caradoc, Colgrevance, Constantine, Dagonet, Daniel, Ector, Ector de Maris, Elyan, Galehaut, Galeshin, Geraint, Gingalain, Leodegrance, Lionel, Maleagant, Morien, Pelleas, Sagramore le Desirous, Safir, Segwarides, Tor, Ulfius, Uriens, Ywain and myself. We all drank from the chalice, and just like that we were eternal. Some decided to stay in Avalon, like Arthur, but more of us wanted to come back. Here. To see the progression of the world. The World Government had known about us since the dawn of time. Hell, I guess you could say we founded the World Government. Originally. Some os us became soldiers. Joined different nations. Branched out. Helped make and win wars. Men of power. What else were we good for? As time went on the people of the new ages didn’t want peace. Not like we fought for. They just wanted control. More powers and bombs and guns. They liked it. I guess things have calmed down, but that thirst for blood is still there. Just barely tamed now. My life has become simpler, ever since I quit serving men of power. The last time I worked with the World Government is when they asked me to kill Kennedy. Now, normally whenever I told that story I used to tell who was ever listening to ask Lyndon Johnson. That he’d give them the scoop. It was a joke, of course. Johnson didn’t remember a thing. That was, after he had his memory wiped. I remember when I was called into that room. They had Johnson sitting down with some other shadowy heads. And that was when they proposed killing off John. Now, I had been close with John for a time. I knew about him and Miss Monroe. I didn’t think it mattered much. All my colleagues seemed to think so. And the instant they brought up me killing Kennedy, Lyndon lost it. So they put him on a sedative, mixed his brain around and sent him on his way. They had me on so much medication back then. I would of done anything they said. And I did. I killed John F. Kennedy under the instruction of leaders far more powerful than him. And that’s how that whole song and dance goes. After I snapped out of whatever they had me on I knew working with these people was out of the question. This was the final straw. I should have seen them going for Miss Monroe. I guess I wasn’t invited to that meeting. Some of the world knows what happened, but no one will say anything. No justice will come to those responsible. For a time it seemed as if the only people that existed were those who enjoyed stepping on others and those who enjoy being stepped on. I will admit, I floated around the Prohibition and bootlegging scene for a while, but that life just wasn’t for me. I worked in some fractions against Al Capone, but I never went far with that kind of life. I couldn’t move in or adapt to that old Italian ideology. The mafia wasn’t my thing, but it paid well-enough. I messed my ties over the decades anyways. I guess moving down from the government and joining up with the mob wasn’t exactly a good transition, but I needed money and their benefits were the best. That was until the day I found myself out on a contract and sitting behind a fella named Henry Hill. I was told to put a bullet in his head and be on my way. It wasn’t like I was gonna get caught. But something about the whole thing just took me back to John and how I felt then. So I botched the hit and left the killing business. I suppose the sixties and eighties were kind of darks times for me. Thinking back to an older age, I think the two people I could consider my greatest friends were Arthur Doyle and Erik Weisz. That is, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the man who came to be known as Harry Houdini. I met Arthur after he had come out of Medical School. Arthur and Harry met in 1920 and I tended to lean more toward Arthur as the years went on. The three of us used to have some adventures, I’ll tell you what… but things changed. I was devastated after Harry passed. Wish I could of done something. And one day Arthur stopped answering my letters. I never made any attempt to reconnect, honestly. A new age was approaching and I guess it was just one of those times I had to transition or get lost in the nostalgia of the last few decades. The few people who know about me, who know what I am, usually ask if I had ever met Tolkien. Malcom Little and Andy Warhol in particular. I don’t know why they were so interested in that. As I’d always tell them I was never a big fan of the man. I enjoyed The Hobbit, yet couldn’t stand The Lord Of The Rings. I could never understand it. Plus, there was that whole thing with C.S. Lewis. Personally, I think Tolkien secretly beat Lewis over the head with a bible until he gave into his beliefs. Believe me, I knew Lewis. He was a great guy, but he was impressionable. A frustrated youth who tried to give off a confident outward appearance. Tolkien just kind of beat down on him, always coming off like some cocky spiritualist. He tried to act superior and rain inescapable truths on an unsuspecting Lewis. Sure, I knew Tolkien was correct. And that Christ had walked the Earth and all the mythical phenomenon was true, but still. The way he went about it made me… uneasy. Though, I may have to blame myself for Lewis’ transformation. Meeting me, there was no denying the presence of god. But, what neither of them could never understand was… even I doubted the truths behind the Bible. Yes, we drank from the chalice, but there was still so much more Arthur and I never knew. So much more I feared would never be answered. Tolkien and Lewis became content with whatever little they knew and eventually stopped seeking answers. I think that is what drew me to Charles Darwin. Now, there was a brilliant man. A little assertive, but brilliant nonetheless. The only man I ever met to match his scientific brilliance, but in the form of musical brilliance, was Ludwig Van Beethoven. I was in love with his music. Even helped him out a little in the beginning, until he got his bearings. I have to say, I do blame myself for his hearing. In his advanced years we used to fence. Though, I’m not sure it was called fencing in this days… anyway. One of my most automatic combat techniques was always leading into a swing bringing decapitation. One too many hits to the side of the head and in the ears I think cost him his hearing. Still, he didn’t blame me. I last saw him in 1816. After that I went back to drifting around, as I had before relocating to France the following year. You want to hear a funny story? Did you know Edwin Booth, brother of John Wilkes Booth, saved the life of Robert Todd Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln’s son? Interesting right? Edwin had caught and pulled Robert up after he had fallen between the platform and a moving train. In fact, it was said that Edwin received a letter in the following months thanking him. I personally witnessed this event. I didn’t get involved though. The platform was so crowded at the time, I could have barely noticed. Still, it was quite the feat. So, I’m sure you could image my surprise when Wilkes assassinated Abraham. Looking back on it… I think something was up. Like the two incidents and those involved were more connected than people let on. Wilkes was a Confederate sympathizer. Funny story… I took the bastard in that night. At this time I was living in this small cottage out on those little range in Washington. He stood with me for a few days. He told me he was a drifter looking for work. He didn’t do me any harm and after he was well on his way he headed on down to Virginia. A few days later the Union soldiers got to him. And good for them, I say. I think my life has been fulfilling enough. Not many people can say they’ve sat, smoked cigars and discussed warfare with Winston Churchill while bombs raged about. And not many living individuals can tell of the days they sat in chess matches against the magnificent Alexander Alekhine. And beat him devastatingly once. No. No one believes the word of an eternal who almost captured the heart of the lovely Miss Earhart. Or how said eternal sunk into unending depression as she disappeared into the sky. Yes, I have lived a full life. I only wonder at what time in the future, past eons and uncounted millennia, that it will all finally end. Perhaps… it never will.