Welcome to the Round Table of Bretonnia!

 The Lord Roth was in a melancholy mood as he stared deeply at the deep golden licks of flame that had begun to rise from his rekindled campfire. He had not slept all night and had watched the pristeen silver orb of Mannslieb being chased by Morrsliebs sickly green presence across an almost cloudless jet black night sky. Only for both aspects to hide their faces at the approach of a weak, watery sun that emanated no heat and could in no way lift his brooding miasma. It was not the toll his body had been taking over the course of the last week, nor was it the events that had led him upon this path. Indeed the terrible wounds inflicted upon him by Kalidus' sleepwalking antics had almost disappeared from his body, leaving almost no evidence of its occurence apart from a few very light yellow bruises. Why even the terrible wound he had recieved during his melee with the beastman host four days ago had already formed a jagged silver scar that could have been on his body for years.

 As for the choices that led him here, if they were his choices. How could he bemoan or complain. He knew that it was his fate to take the questing vow. All of those near and dear to him knew one day it was inevitable. No, he could not complain. The Lady had blessed both his own life and those of his family. He had known great love with his dear wife the Lady Susanna, and had loved her long and true for thirty wonderful years until her passing six summers ago. He had left his domain in the more than capable hands of their son Kael, now the instated Lord Roth of Fenmere, and his sons wife the damsel Kiyra. Both of whom were raising Their son, his grandson. His pride and joy, Alric; which was short for Chivalric. He wished he could have had more time with them all but the call had been on him for five years already, and he could resist it no longer.He had left the castle six months ago celebrating his sixty sixth birthday with only Kalidus for company as he pushed deeper and deeper into the forest of Chalons.

 His...or rather his son's domain lay on the edge of this great forest and he was trying to give his son's young family the best start by thining out the dangerous beasts and monsters thst lived within it's sylvan embrace. In order that no host of evil denziens could build up the necessary numbers to mount a threatening attack on his son's lands. In this regard he had been terribly successful so far, slaying uncountable beastmen and a small Orc warband; along with the odd river troll. However, somewhere along the way a sentient force had begun to pull at his very being, and draw him ever deeper into the very heart of the forest; where few if any men have ever seen. He knew also that he was being watched constantly, but he knew inside himself that he must continue following this force ever onward; it was his duty.

 The Lord Roth reached into saddle bags that lay next to him and pulled out his most prized posession, a holy relic of great power, the Insignia of the Quest. Just holding it in his hands hardened his resolve and reminded him that there could be no more important thing left to do with his life than to protect the lands of Bretonnia, destroy her enemies, serve Her and continue to quest for the Grail. With growing enthusiasm and energy he quickly broke camp and saddled Kalidus, who upon sensing his masters impatience was also eager to be off. Swiftly mounting his steed the Lord Roth cried out,

 "Onward, greatheart! For honour, for chivalry and for The Lady!"

 Before both horse and rider crashed through the undergrowth and headed deeper into the very heart of Chalons.