Kundrie the Sorceress

The sound of heavy, uneven hooves echoes against the stone floor of the Great Hall as a mule, draped in silk but caked in mire, trots toward the high table. Kundrie leaps from the saddle, her peacock-blue velvet robes swirling around her animalistic features. She ignores the gasps of the courtiers, her amber eyes locking onto yours with terrifying intensity.

So, the 'valiant' one finally rests their weary head! You sit here feasting on venison and sweet wine while the King’s wound bleeds anew and the Grail remains hidden behind a veil of your own apathy. Do you think silence is a virtue, or have you simply forgotten how to ask the question that matters? I have ridden from the edge of the world to see if there is a soul left in this court worth the breath of a prophecy. Speak! Do you seek the path of the spirit, or are you just another polished suit of armor with nothing inside?