Keep the Magic Secret is an active BBC Merlin rp created October 22nd 2008. We follow the stories of the young Merlin and Arthur.
King Uther's mad; Morgana's missing and Merlin's keeping a deadly secret that threatens to rip a hole in the foundations of life at Camelot itself. But with druids rising against them; the Old Religion firmly back in full power and Kilgarrah roaming the skies above, how long will secrets last and will the world Albion has come to know crumble under the drumming of war?
Join as a Canon or an Original and join in a world of magic, danger, romance and so much more. With so many twists and turns, you'll find a story for everyone.
AU since series one. Check out our full plot for more information.
Enjoy and just don't forget to: KEEP THE MAGIC SECRET.
Member No.: 336
Joined: 3-May 11
Moving. Always moving. Alistair shook his head as he grew lost in his own thoughts. He wasnít sure why he was here in all places if truth be told. ĎHereí was Cenredís Kingdom. It was in the city and even then Alistair knew that it was a dangerous place to be. Not that he minded though. He was used to danger. It always followed him around. And it would also come when he would least expect. He figured that someone was having a good laugh at him from above. Now there was a lovely thought in itself. The twenty year old winced slightly as he entered the city by walking. It surprised him at how noisy the city was. Then again he was used to living in the forest. Alistair was born on the border line between Camelot and Mercia. Some would have said that was a very dangerous place, especially when one was a Druid like him. But he didnít mind that fact. His eyes went cold as memories of the raid started surfacing up again. He tried to block them out like always. He didnít need to think about that. Not now. He sighed softly to himself as he glanced around. People were out and about. Talking and Gossiping. Out of the corner of his eye he saw children running into the streets. Probably stealing, he thought to himself with a smile that was rare nowadays.
His eyes fell on a young blonde haired girl that reminded him a lot of his sister. His sister that was captured in the raid along with the others and he had to stop for a moment. It took him a while to convince him that she was not Alyissa. He forced himself to move him, telling himself that he was paranoid. He stared straight ahead, his mouth in a thin line. He wished he had leads on his sisterís captor. They would pay for that, he promised silently. They would pay. They would wish that they had never set foot in the camp in the first place. He felt the stirrings of his magic and he took a deep breath. Sometimes that was the downfall of having magic when one was concerned. He had to keep a close reign on his temper or else his magic would flare up again. He didnít want that. Alistair didnít want that when he was in Cenredís kingdom. Who knows what trouble would he cause. He shivered a little to himself. The thought wasnít at all comforting. The Druid took a deep breath as he was trying to force himself to think pleasant things. He scanned the area in front of him with a rather bored look. His eyes were glittering like stones. He needed to get out of the closeness of everything and find some space. Some space where he could relax.
The twenty year old slipped through the crowds, always apologizing whenever he bumped into people. Something made him stop and glanced around. Something was not right. He could feel it. Alistair scowled a little to himself as he kept on looking around. In a city this noisy and crowded, he couldnít be too sure if someone was after him or not. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took a small dash for an alley way. He slipped into the shadows easily as he recovered from the walk. He took out a knife that he always carried with him and never strayed from the shadows. His whole body was rather tensed. Alistair just hoped that whoever was looking for him, as he suspected, that they should get it over with as quickly as possible.
Her heart pounded in rhythm with her running foot steps as she proceeded to run. Why did trouble always follow Celta wherever she went? Oh, yeah...because she always caused it by digging into things she shouldn't be looking into. However, this time, it wasn't something she could just brush aside. It had to do with her missing father, the one who had abandoned her to the cruel world for years. She thought she had uncovered the real reason he had never returned to her, yet right when she got close to discovering the truth, they had to find her.
Cenred's men. They had been after her before, but she had never come face to face with them until this time. And she was far away from her Druid friends in Camelot or anyone who could or would help her, seeing as how Cenred has every single citizen wrapped around his forceful, sadistic fingers. And Celta was not one of them, and resisting just made everything the more difficult for her to escape. So here she was, her feet taking her through the forest as she searched for Eolas. She needed to make sure her horse was safe.
"There she is! Cut her off at the edge of the trees!" She heard hooves racing a little behind her and cursed under her breath. great. Just great. They had horses while she was on foot. It was severely unfair, but who ever said these men could be fair to her? She drove herself on even faster, gulping in every breath she could take in and gasping them out with pain. She couldn't run much longer. She was tiring and fast, so she needed to think of something else.
Celta found herself at the edge of the forest and Cenred's city, and slipped into a back alley, her beautiful yet wary eyes darting around her. She couldn't hear any of the men behind her, but she wasn't out of the figurative woods yet. Grabbing her dagger from her boot, she glared around her, yet still saw no one. Slipping her hood over her face, she slunk through the streets, keeping her face down and not even bothering to apologize when she bumped into other people on the street, not even one stranger who sent chills through her entire body. And it wasn't the bad type of chills; instead, she felt a sensation of magic rush through her, but in fear of her own safety, she kept moving quickly til she dashed around a corner and finally took a minute to breath and get some relief.
"Thought you could get rid of us that easy, m'lady?" The last word was mocking as a hand reached around to grab her hair and yank her in a spin. As it did, her hidden dagger struck out and hit skin. She was released with howls of pain and sent into another man's grasp. She struck out but her other arm was caught and grasped hard enough to cut off circulation. She hissed in pain but said nothing. Her dirty looks said everything she was feeling as she fought them every step of the way. She knew these men knew something of her father, of the tragedy that happened in her family, but they refused to tell her anything. The thought sent her struggling once more til a hand struck her across the face. She almost collapsed to the ground, black dots appearing in her vision.
A hand grabbed her face and forced her to look at the first man who had spoke, and she glowered hatefully before she finally controlled herself enough to speak.
"If you think I am afraid, you are in for disappointment. And I know that you know who my family was."
"Yes, a friend of the Druids. A disgusting race. Your king would be so proud." Celta's eyes burned angrily and she lashed out at him, kicking him in the shin and watching in satisfaction as he stumbled. She knew it might not have been smart to show her weakness, but the look on his face after she hit him was worth it.
"Don't...ever...talk about...the Druids...like that..." she gasped out in between anger and paniful breaths.
Member No.: 336
Joined: 3-May 11
What he was looking, or suspected, Alistair didnít know. But he knew that it wasnít the noise that he was hearing. He frowned a little as he quickly and silently moved to the source of the sounds, gripping his knife tightly. What he saw made his blood run cold. A group of men running after a woman. Barbarians the lot of them, he thought with a small scowl. He considered himself lucky that he managed to stay in the shadows. The twenty year old crouched down low into a fighterís crouch, his eyes were on the men. Waiting for the right moment when he could manage to spring up. He smirked when he saw her kicking out. Alistair caught wind of what one of the men was saying and he couldnít help but to growl slightly. He knew he had to intervene and this was it. ďYou know my mother had this saying. Say nice things or else donít say them at all,Ē his voice was rather cold as he stepped out from the shadows. His eyes were like cold stones as he glared at all of the men. ďAnd if you think you could get away with insulting a Druid youíre quite mistaken.Ē
He was quiet for a moment as he glared at them again. ďLet the lady go. Iím giving you until the count of ten,Ē there was a casual tone to his voice. ďOr else,Ē Alistair knew the consequences of using magic in public, especially in Cenredís kingdom. He had heard stories about the king. But to allow the men to harm such a lady as the one that was standing in front of him? That only made for his temper to rise even more. He noticed two of the men were eying him with a rather suspicious glance. ďJust who are you exactly?Ē one of them asked. Alistair raised an eyebrow at his tone. Well, this would be quite interesting Iím sure, he thought before smirking. ďAlistair. And thatís all you need to know. Now Iím not going to tell you again. Let the lady go,Ē They wouldnít like the consequences of disobeying him actually. Alistair can be a fierce fighter when he wanted to be. Although he did feel like lashing out with his magic at the idiots but he knew he couldnít.
Not in public anyways. Take them to a forest? Then perhaps he would. He might even threatened to kill them if they told their king that a Druid was running about the kingdom. The thought made the smirk on his lips grew bigger. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The two men looked at each other, very unnerved as they glanced at the others, waiting for their orders. ďWhatís the matter?Ē Alistair drawled softly. ďScared of dueling with me?Ē All in truth he hoped that he was right. It would have made him feel better. Silence soon fell between them as Alistair raised his head to look at the woman. He froze slightly, a look of disbelief spread across his face. She looked oddly familiar. Where had he seen her before? He frowned slightly, trying to remember. At last he shook his head and mentally cursed at himself. This wasnít the time nor the place to be thinking such things. That much he knew. ďSo what are we doing chasing the lady?Ē he drawled. Alistair was going to get himself enemies and soon. That much he knew.
Celta was contemplating ways to physically harm these men to the point of permanent damage when she saw something dash in the shadows. Her eyes fixed upon them, but she still could not see what or who it was, and it unnerved her. More men? She might not be able to fight her way out of that one. Something even worse? Well...she hoped it took a liking to the men and grabbed them first, giving her time to at least attempt an escape before whatever it was caught up to her. She was overthinking it so much that she didn't feel the hands dragging her along til she was stumbling with them, trying to get her footing.
She dug her heels in and headbashed one of the men close to her before they all heard a voice. A masculine voice that halted all of them, including her. She was thrown around and pushed back down to the dirt, landing with a grunt of pain and a growl at the man who tossed her like an unimportant piece of scum that she certainly wasn't. But then that same dangerous yet soft voice reached her ears and she closed her eyes, remembering a young Druid she used to know whose soothing and kind voice used to speak with her and tease her. Yet it wasn't soothing or kind at the time, and her icy blue eyes slowly lifted to look at the man who was there to protect her. Hopefully.
He was handsome, with messy blonde hair and mesmerizing light eyes. His mouth looked as though it had smiled in the past, but perhaps a distant past, and she could sympathize. Smiling was a rarity for her nowadays as well. He told the men they shouldn't insult Druids, and it took her aback. Staring at him in disbelief, she watched his every move and hung onto his every word. It was almost nonexistent to meet someone in Cenred's kingdom who took the side of the Druids, as she did. It took her a moment to catch her breath once more, and she took that time to attempt a move towards the man standing there, only to get a dagger aimed at her throat. She dodged it and tripped that man, fighting for the dagger and using a move one of her old Druid friends had taught her.
And then she was on top of him, the dagger glinting in her hand as her eyes flashed a dangerous warning for him to move. And the stranger was still talking to the others, and now they seemed unsure of what to do or say. She turned her anger back on the man under her, and she knocked him unconscious with the hilt of the dagger before rolling off of him and back onto her feet, nimble as a cat. Her hand dropped the weapon after hearing the man's name. Alistair? Again, it reminded her of an old friend she used to know. But he probably thought her dead. She vanished after her family's murders, and only some of the Druids knew she was still alive.
However, this couldn't be the same...Shaking herself, she brought her attention back to the problems at hand. The men were regathering their bearings, figuring whoever this was was certainly not powerful enough to overtake all of them together. Oh, if only these idiots knew what was out there and who could kill them all in one wave of a hand. Those were the ones who really scared her.
"What we want with Lady Celta is none of your concern," One of them told the blonde haired man as Celta glared around. The man who had just spoken reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. If Celta was a Druid, her eyes would probably be literally flaming right then.
"It's not your concern, either. What happened is only between the murderers and myself," Celta responded shortly before acting on her instincts she had gained over the years of being alone and fighting for survival. She kicked up some dirt from the ground in a ball of dust around them, and while they were distracted, grabbed the dagger from the ground as well as unsheathing her father's sword from her side and backing towards the stranger, facing the men with deadly determination. She was done playing games. This stranger who had spoke for her probably thought of her as strange or suicidal, but she did not care at this point.
"Now where the hell is my father? Leave the Druids out of this and answer me unless you want me to show you everything they taught me. And believe me, just because I don't have magic doesn't mean I can't kill you anyway." Half of the men looked at her in disbelief that she knew those types of fighting moves, and the other half just looked plain furious. Oh, that was just great. Glancing with a raised brow next to her, she found the man with a thoughtful look on his face as to whether he should fight or just try to talk with the men and get answers. They should know never to mess with a woman who lost everything...a woman with nothing to lose and everything to gain.