@Brookeira:  I can't believe I didn't see that!  Sorry about that!  I'm thinking the fake stubble comes off (like you said), and then Lionel wonders why would that come off.  Then, he kind of realizes how feminine Lancelot looks without her disguise, and realizes that she's a woman.  What do you think?

WHAT THE HECK GUYS??????

Just a short part for the scenes after Lanceline fainted:

Lanceline ran a hand through her cropped hair, poking the fake stubble on her face. It was  the tinies bit loose, and shifted, almost as though it had come on and off again. Fortunately, it hadn't; Lionel would have reported her identity to her liege if it had. Lanceline shuddered at the thought.

She huffed and nodded as other knights smiled at her, whispering about what she'd defeated behind her back. Her fame was spreading; even merchants from out of Camelot had heard of Sir Lancelot DuLac, the mysterious Gallic bag of noise and nerve strong enough to kill a dreadwyrm. 

She entered her room and quickly reapplied the stubble, hands nearly shaking with strain. Her liege would likely be summoning her for a report soon.

She burst out of her room and saw him standing there, near some servant girl she'd seen before. She groaned.

"Squire Lionel, I can assure you I'm alright. You don't need to come after me."

"I wasn't here for you!" Lionel said, before remembering himself. Lanceline winced. Of course he didn't. She was a cocky knight who'd somehow killed a fell beast and gotten herself knocked out.

"Sure you weren't, dear," she teased, breezing past them. She winked at the servant girl (ah, yes, her name was Arienne or something like that). The servant girl blushed as Lanceline breezed down the corridor and into the dining hall.

You don't know the noise I made when I saw this, nor how I clutched my heart. I had a stroke in a good way. I'll be watching this RP with great interest. I love me some good Camelot shenanigans.

Yay, I can roleplay now!

Arienna~

The hot, muggy air in the kitchen was unbearable, completely unbearable.

Chop, chop, chop.

I longed to raise my hand to my face to wipe the sweat from my forehead, but the chief cook was watching me and I didn't dare.

Chop, chop, chop.

Besides, when you're chopping onions it's not wise to rub your face with your hands. 

Chop, chop, chop.

The cutting board in front me almost swam in front of my eyes, it was so hot in the kitchen. I raised my knife for a moment while I selected another onion, put it on the cutting board, and brought my knife down.

And then suddenly, I heard a bell ringing. Deep, long tolls. I dropped my knife, which fell onto my finger and left a long red slash that immediately started welling up with blood. The chief cook jumped forward and grabbed my arm, her over-large stomach wobbling beneath her apron as she pulled me up the steps, out of the kitchen--with my free hand, I tried to stop the blood on my finger by wrapping the corner of my white cook's apron, but only succeeded in spreading a dark red stain through it. 

The head cook pushed the kitchen door open and hauled me out into the fresh air of the courtyard. I gulped in deep breaths, relieved after the heat of the kitchen. But the head cook didn't stop, and, towing me behind her, hurried across the large courtyard. She had a surprisingly strong grip. I suppose it came from years of carrying heavy pots and chopping things and hauling water--which was mostly what I did, now.

Tears were running down my face, and I wasn't sure whether it was from the onions or the fact that my arm was being nearly pulled out--maybe both. 

And then the cook halted, stock-still, and I followed her gaze. Across the courtyard was a dark, shadowy...thing. For some reason, it filled me with dread and I longed to flee back across the courtyard and lock myself into the kitchen with the onions and the heat, but the cook kept her hold on my arm. I had no choice but to watch.

A knight was battling the monster. He was slashing at the thing frantically, stabbing and trying to hit it--and then all of a sudden, he raised his sword up and plunged it down. There was a flash of bright light and the knight stood there for a moment, trembling slightly, before toppling backward and crashing into the ground.

The cook muttered something and as soon as I felt her fingers loosten on my wrist, I pulled away and bolted across the courtyard, into the castle. And, right there, was Lionel.

Thanks for the invitation. Ever since I read The Once and Future King by TH White, I've been an enormous fan of the Arthurian legend. You guys should all check it out, it is amazing.

Name: Achard

Age: 17

Role: Sorceror's apprentice

Appearance: long light brown hair, average stature, ordinary young man of the times

Personality: A bit arrogant, generally gets along well with the younger apprentice. Likes helping others and sharing his wisdom. Likes studying magic, and is grateful to Merlin for taking him in.

Fears/Weaknesses:  Isn't good with water, can't swim. Denies his background and gets angry when provoked about it.

Strengths: Is very good at fire magics. Can also use healing and wood magics.

Master: Merlin

Other: Was raised as a child of the Gaels and studied the ancient wood magics, so knows a lot of fairy lore and witch magic. Came to Camelot and Arthur's court and denied his old ways, chosing the Norman name Achard instead.