The Perilous Forest

My most loyal Knight, Sir I, your friend and sovereign do beseech you to travel on the King's Road from Camelot north through the Perlious Forest. On the seventh day after the Feast of St. Levins, be at the crossroads where there stands a marble statue of a forgotten roman, three days north of Camelot. There you will meet your other boon companions, and my servant, who shall review your task.

Friend, I trust you will take this on faith. I would explain more if it was safe to do so.

Arthur, King of the Britons.

The letter found each of you, delivered by a page with Camelot's crest. Perhaps you were easy to find, near Camelot, or perhaps you were farther away. The letter finds you with time to make the journey.

Sometime later, after journeying...

While questing for adventure, you have encountered several other knights. You are all at a crossroads deep in the heart of the Perilous Forest. The Perilous Forest is a eerie, dangerous place filled with outlaws and horrible monsters.

The laws of courtesy require that you introduce yourselves to each other. Please describe yourself, and your journey north at your King's command.

Gareth was in his cups in a brothel where he had spent much of his time lately. He went through bouts of feeling useless and the adoration heaped upon him from the local whores, fake or not, was the much-needed panacea he craved.

Spoiled as a child he sought recognition in many ways. On this particular day, he realized that the dream of his name being uttered on every fair maiden's lips was progressing much slower than he had hoped. Then came the auspicious letter.

Sitting up far too quickly, a bout of nausea came and fortunately left. His companion was mercifully gone and his purse was not. How the letter arrived laying as it was on the edge of the bed he didn't know, nor did he care as he hungrily tore it open and read it.

This was it! This was his chance! He was sure of it as he hastily dressed, splashed water on his handsome face, buttoned his expensive shirt and breeches, shoved his feet into his boots, and saw to gathering supplies for the trek.

Later as he arrived at the crossroads wondering if the group of knights gathered there had been waiting for him, he greeted them in a friendly and cautious manner but they would have to earn his trust.

"T'is a good day to show our devotion to our king, is it not? I am Sir Gareth Heath and I am very honored to meet you all."

Wolstan was glad for the invitation as well, for it kept his mind off of the unfolding drama at the castle in Glengrave, where his older brother laid on this deathbed. For two years now, Willem had laid in that state, clinging to life, unable to sire or even name an heir. The crows were circling, and with no son ready to take up the mantle of Lord Glengrave, Wolstan's ambitious and greedy uncle loomed, ready to take the title and the lands that had been denied him as he rotted in a French prison, years ago.

A letter proposing a solution to the dilemma was tucked into the burly, middle-aged knight's belongings, one that had been penned by no less than Lady Glengrave herself. Arthur's letter was one that Sir Wolstan found far easier to bear, and so it was to a crossroads three days north of Camelot that the man traveled, alone, through the Perilous Forest. His last squire was now a knight himself, and Wolstan had not yet seen to replacing him. No, easier to serve the King than return to his ancestral home and look into the eyes of the woman he had always loved, and who now suddenly was calling for him. Easier to put that from his mind and nod at the handsome young knight who had just greeted him.

"Hail, Sir Gareth Heath. I am Sir Wolston of Glengrave. Summoned too by his Majesty in Camelot. My liege is Lord Glengrave -- Willem, my brother, but I oft raise my shield and sword for the King, as I do now."

"Sir Gareth Heath and Sir Wolston of Glengrave, it is a pleasure to be called here to your company for service to our King. I am Sir Gregor Gildon. I look forward to offering my hand of service to the task before us, as I was summoned by letter and pulled from the less glorious duty of overseeing the training of the guards of my lord's keep. I welcome this call to honorable adventure with champions of merit such as yourselves."

Impeccably dressed and prepared, cautious in every aspect of his travel but losing no time on the road, Sir Wilfred was the first to arrive at the crossroad, of course. Or so he thought. There were already three knights, no less, waiting there: one quite old, one with a shifty demeanor, and one difficult to decipher at first glance.

He thought he had made haste, though, hurrying to the meeting point as soon as he got the letter. How could it be otherwise? He had been waiting for the longer time (from his evaluation at least) to prove himself as a knight, praying as much as he could, but finding no task challenging enough to make a good enough name for himself.

However, not wanting to look unpleasant, he smiles at his new found companions and says: "Well met, fellow knights! My name is sir Wilfred, and I look forward to our fellowship. The Lord and our king obviously gathered us here, let us see for what purpose."

Sir Gareth responds, "Well met Sir Wilfred. I'm sure the purpose will be swiftly revealed. Looking forward to our fellowship." He gives a bowing nod.

You have each heard of the others, to some extent. A story hear or there, although mainly just a reference that you recall. Sir Wolstan of Glengrave the other three have heard of, even if it takes a moment to put the stories together. If anyone is to be given deference, or a leadership role in the group, it would be him.

"Sir Gregor, Sir Wilfred, this is a glad meeting," Wolstan says, using his right hand to show that he wasn't hiding a weapon beneath his cloak. It's a traditional greeting, as would be raising his visor so they could see his face -- were he wearing his greathelm. But he's not, and his smile is plain on his face. "We need only wait now for King Arthur's agent, who will I am sure be along presently."

Wolstan was a name they all knew. A knight who won a tourney in his youth, and who hoped for the hand of the host's daughter in marriage. He was wearing her favor when he bested Sir Ector the Red, the towering favorite to win the melee and the tournament. Wolstan had smashed the other knight's nose flat with a heavy blow from his mace; the same blow had split the other man's helm and knocked it from his head. The two had been bitter foes ever since. The story ended in tragedy for Wolstan, of course. It was his brother who married the beautiful Amelia, making her the Lady of Glengrave and Wolstan's sister in law. It had been the girl's father who'd seen fit to pass by the lesser, younger knight for his landed brother -- securing a better alliance for his house.

Who could blame the man? Not Wolstan. He knew the laws and customs of the land, and instead never took a wife. To avoid his homestead, he acted a hedge knight for years, though his brother's house was always open to him.

Dismounting, the knight set about caring for his horse. Yes, surely the agent would come along at any time now...

Sir Wilfred dismounts as well, bows to all the other knights acknowledging their name one by one. He pauses when saluting Wolstan: "Great meeting such a famous character in the flesh. It is good to finally put a face behind a name. And, for sure, our King's agent will be present soon enough."

Sir Gareth knew it was time to hang up his life of drunken debauchery and get back to being the man he knew he really was. His behavior had been the result of his lady love running off with a squire. He had been drowning his pain in a small non-descript village where no one would know him except that someone obviously did or else how would the note have found him? Somebody must have been looking out for him and for that he was grateful and it's why he had left a note of thanks on the rumpled bed for the owner of the establishment where he had been laying low in the hopes that it would make its way to the right person.

Looking over the group he could see that he was in good company and he resolved to be the best he could be in his quest for the king as he said each knight's name and nodded a greeting to each in turn. He was particularly impressed to meet Sir Wolstan whose exploits were known throughout the land.

"I am indeed honored to meet you Sir Wolstan. I look forward to our exploits together, all of us, for the king! "

For his part, he was known back home as an adept fighter and horseman who had proven himself admirably when his noble father's lands were attacked by a rebel band of outlaws. He had equipped himself exceedingly well and was told that he had a bright future ahead until his heartbreak and fall from grace. He did not plan to let this opportunity slip between his fingers.

Sir Gareth says to Sir Wolston with a bow, "It is certainly an honor to be called to your company Sir Wolston. I look forward to hearing from our King's agent what task he has for us."

His thoughts then go into the far reaches of his memory trying to recall being instructed (by the real Sir Gareth) about any shared exploits with Sir Wolston that he should remember at this moment and praise. He cannot...and inwardly prays there are none.

You're about to further praise each other when a sound catches your ears. A scream, too high pitched for anything but a maiden or young boy. West, on the road that leads from the crossroad on that direction. You listen a moment more. A shout, this one in anger.

There is some mischief afoot! Do you wait where your king sent you, or Investigate?

"My gallant companions, something sounds foul. We must explore the source. If my ears do not fool me, a lady or child is in distress!"

Sir Wilfred certainly does not want to be the one who stayed behind. After looking at his companions in turn, he nods at Sir Gregor Gildon, jumps on his horse and says: "Let's go." Then he rides towards the shouting.

Wolstan mounts his horse and spurs it to action as well. "Be quick but be wary, Sir Gregor!" he calls to the knight ahead of him as he pulls on his helmet and lowers his visor. The man's sword comes out next, and then he rides!

"I value the great fortune of your counsel, Sir Wolstan!" Gregor exclaims over the knights' clatter of horses and armour as he rides forward.

Sir Gareth deliberately waits to see what the others do. In situations such as these, his actions are often measured and thoughtful. That's not to say he doesn't act impetuously at times but this was not one of those moments. He was only just getting to know the others who may be watching his back and he in turn would be watching theirs.

With the sound of his helmet visor clanking into place followed by the scrape of his trusty sword sliding up from its sheath, he charges forward with the others.

The Knights make a mad dash through the forest path, and quickly see a man-at-arms defending himself against a sextet of ruffians. The man wears boiled leather armor, cheap enough but sturdy. His gear and bearing tell you he is experienced, not a knight but a trusted retainer to some minor Lord.

The ruffians are peasants, dressed in rags and wielding homemade implements. They drive their crude spears at him, blood flowing with every second, he blocks one but every second strike finds its mark.

Behind the man-at-arms, a maid in a soiled dress swoons. This is no princess, but no scullery maid either. Something in between, a handmaiden perhaps, to a noble woman?

When the ruffians see you ride hard toward them, they scatter.

As the ruffians disperse, Sir Gregor calls to Sir Wolston, "It appears we were shrewd to be quick to the scene. Yet we have arrived to a peculiar state of affairs." He steers closer to the couple and brings his horse to a halt examining their demeanor.

Addressing the man, Sir Wilfred says: "Well, it seems we put an end to the rather dire unpleasantries going your way. What are you doing in these parts, and who is this young maiden going with you?". The knight is genuinely curious.