You give up. You have no idea where you are. Quite obviously you are in the woods - the tread of hooves over woodroots and moss tells you that much - but beyond that you have no idea. You are, of course, a knight, a man of honour, dignity and a strong arm. Sword, spear and reins rest too easily in your hands for you to be anything else, and your packhorse carries quite enough armour to make you look the part. You are alone, besides for three horses you lead through the dense forest.

You can't entirely recall how you came to be here, either, in this vast, dark forest. You haven't seen another soul in.. well, how long have you wandered, even? You stop under a sprawling oak tree to rest, absently chopping an apple with your dagger and chewing the chalky flesh of it, deep in thought.

>A passionate madness - the passions of a man of chivalry are vast and terrible, and can lead one to worse fates than this...
>A Wild Hunt - a horn-blast in the dark. A spectral hand, beckoning from the wood's edge. The thrill of the chase.
>Disgrace - something dark lies behind you. With such a pursuer, any man would ride wild.