Sir Yvain presently could be found perched upon his palfrey, trotting along outside the grounds of Camelot gazing off at forest and flatland in the distance, fantasizing about what it had been like when he last was away from the castle. He'd encountered many a danger and sorrow, though also experienced his greatest joys while journeying far off. He rode for hours on this morning as he had done on several ocassions as of late, muttering to himself sometimes happily sometimes not so, his facial expressions changing often as he played past events over in his mind. Images of duels, the inside of enemies territories, heavenly women, ghastly creatures. He would at times be seen by onlookers high up in Camelot, thrusting a blade high into the air. Some might have even thought him gone mad. In the young knight's short time living he'd witnessed more wonders than many elderly men, some of them horrible sights some of them scenes of great ecstacy. It was and is and always would be Sir Yvain's curse that he would remain fiercly loyal to his cousin's and Camelot while he desperatly longed for his next adventure beyond the hills.