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We are the left-overs of nobility. The fourth child, the cousin, the uncle. Far from the line of succession, without hope of ruling lands ourselves. Our brothers might become mighty lords, but we must toil for our own glory. So when the Valyrian came and called for aid against the horrors of Nocturnus, we heard that call. I, Sir Augustus Maneworth, fourth son of Lord Tybolt Maneworth, took it upon myself to lead this expedition. Many of my old friends joined me: Sir Arcas Bearington, strong and boisterous as his namesake. Sir Prester Equinnon, his House renowned for its horsemen. Robin Oakly, common-born but of great standing as a hunter. And many more, from Houses great and small. Together, we would show the monsters of Nocturnus how true Avalonian knights fight, and shower ourselves in glory. Two months ago, we departed from Albion. Such a sight to behold, that was: banners streaming in the wind, sunlight gleaming of swords and shields, destriers snorting in the morning air. Maidens threw flowers and kisses from their balconies, and boys ran alongside us, wishing strength to our arms and swords. For the first weeks, we rode through the Avalonian countryside. We slept in comfortable inns, if we weren’t feasted by the Lords whose castles we passed. Those easy comforts were nowhere to be find when we entered the heartlands of Historica. Here we were thrown back to what we could hunt, as well as the provisions we had taken. No longer did we sleep in feather beds, but in bedrolls on the hard cold ground around a campfire. This we took in stride, as we of course couldn’t expect comfortable beds on our grand adventure. But then, our provisions started to dwindle: we first ran out of honeyed larks, only halfway to the Kelra Labyrinths. Orange cakes soon followed, and the last wine was drunk as the peaks of the Rakath Mountains appeared in the distance. Some started grumbling, unfamiliar with the sensation of not having whatever they want at hand. But we pushed on, even though our meals were down to dried meat, cheese and bread. Looking back, those days were still easy and comfortable. Then, we arrived at the Kelra Labyrinths. That first day, we were full of hope. After navigating the maze, we would only need to cross a mountain pass, and we’d be in Nocturnus. We had a map of the Labyrinths, and were confident that Robin could find the way. The sun was shining brightly in a clear blue sky, and though we bones in our path, it couldn’t be dangerous to Avalonian knights, couldn’t it? That dream was brutally ripped from us come nightfall. As the shadows lengthened, breezes started stirring, turning the entire maze in a wind organ. Then, when the sun dipped below the horizon, the howls started. Most of us had heard wolves before, but this was different. Somehow, these sounded cold, malicious. And sometimes, suddenly, a scream would pierce the air. We camped down for the night, lighting torches to keep the howlers away. Eventually, most of us were able to get some sleep, but still the howling rang on. We woke to a cold, clinging mist. Then came a terrifying discovery: the larger part of our party was gone. Of the two score knights that had set out from Albion, only I and a dozen others remained. The others had vanished, with their horses and belongings. Had they gone on without us? Had the howlers gotten them, and taken their belongings away? Or was there an even more mysterious force at work? We continued on through the fog. Robin Oakly remained to us, and we could easily find the way. The following weeks, we traversed the Labyrinths, fighting off monsters of the maze, trying to survive. The landscape was surprisingly varied: from narrow twisting passageways open to the sky, to great complexes of spires and bridges, to entire abandoned cities in the heart of the maze. Who might have constructed this great Labyrinth and for what reason we might never know, but I can’t help but feel in awe of its grandeur and sheer scale. Many of us have passed away, falling to beasts and other hazards. But we pushed on. We are knights of Avalonia. It takes more than a maze of horrors to stop us. In the pictures, the surviving knights are ambushed by a tentacled monster that has hidden itself in a well. Looks like they have to look a bit further for water to drink! I wanted to have a bit of a new take on the maze, and I quite liked the idea of having a city built within the maze, with the streets functioning as passageways. I also liked how it added to the mystery of the maze. The small plaza is surrounded by a (now overgrown) park, some arcades that perhaps hosted shops, and a half-collapsed house. A traveler has already passed this way, and was ambushed as well. He fled into the abandoned house, but found out that he couldn’t leave because of the monster in the well. He soon died of his injuries and thirst. This foreign aid is going to the Black Spire!
