[center][h2][color=#FFFFCC]Sir Arwyn Glyn-Dŵr[/color][/h2][/center]

After claiming a knights room and dumping what little extra provisions he had, Arwyn set out to explore. This was [i]Camelot[/i], City of Fables and the Greatest Knights, his steps were swift and full of the optimistic energy of youth as he made his way across the Courtyard.

A clash of metal on metal rang out, distinctly louder than the background clanking of training men.
[color=1a7b30]"Prove your worthiness as defenders of Camelot. Face me in combat and show me that you are worthy to call yourselves knights of Britannia."[/color] 

Arwyn's eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, fixing on the Green Knight's companion. He was not sure from this distance, but as he approached, his certainty grew, the unnatural height, burning locks, the scar.. [color=lightgreen]Traherne Derwen[/color]. The infamous Druid was focusing on the unfolding drama in front of him, seemingly tense, ready to intervene. Arwyns hand fell to his sword pommel. Standing close, he couldn't stop a shiver run down his spine, the druid towered over him, hatred like bile filled him up as he spat his words.
"[color=#FFFFCC]I'm not suprised to find you in the company of abomination, Druid."[/color] His eyes flicked to the Green Knight for a moment before resettling on [color=lightgreen]Traherne[/color], glaring "[color=#FFFFCC]You won't intervene[/color]." 
In a swift and precise move he drew his sword an inch from the Scabbard, baring blade to the days light.