IC: Though he considered himself a noble enough sort, nobility hadn't stopped Mace Attaya from becoming hopelessly lost and finding himself alone in his thirteenth month. Nobility had earned him his keep in one nomad pack or another, but ultimately, his allegiance had never been to them. He had set off as nobly as he could, with fair warnings and well wishes to the wolves he put behind him that he was searching for his family again, but in the end, his attempt to be noble and honourable with all he crossed had got him nowhere fast. He was still as helpless as any lowly thief or vagabond. All he had was his morality.
He was stuck, now, in a forest the likes of which storybook villains would have coveted. The trees were twisted and alien, reaching out with tangled limbs to stroke his dark hide as he passed by. The gloom of this forest was more oppressive than others he had been in, and more than once the Attaya yearling felt like he was drowning in the foliage. But still, never allowing himself to be daunted for he was a knight, Mace pressed on, hoping to find an eventual end to the dark wood. There was no light in sight, nothing to guide him out of it, and if someone had come along and claimed he had returned to the glorious Relic Lore, he might have laughed.
His memories of that place were sweet, fresh creek water, the drowned legacy of the Attaya family in the ruins of Darkwater Rapids, and beautiful forest. Nowhere in these memories did a gnarled, evil woodland take root or even belong. But he was lost in one, and he was most certainly in Relic Lore, and fast approaching claimed territory, although he was none the wiser yet.