>Hark, weary traveller. Forsooth, be not afeared. Thou art welcome in our halls. Even in these dark times, preparations for the feast continue apace. And what a grand feast it shall be!
>Thou has suffered mightily, is this not so? Verily, these sad realms lie in turmoil. Darkness, ruin, faithlessness and spurned chivalry: such are the sins now come to test thy soul. Thy lords have, through their craven graspingness, failed thee. Thy domains crumble to rubble, picked clean by vermin, hung heavy with shrouds of loss. Thy strength fails. Thy will falters. Debasement. Woe.
>We offer thee an alternative.
>Envision, prithee, a kingdom in which righteousness and law stand paramount. A domain upon which the summer's light falls each morn and the banqueting tables are ever stacked high in abundance. Where rulers display true gallantry, both on the field of tourney and at the front of battle, while hale peasants are content to till the earth and pay glad obeisance to their regal lieges. All this, conducted under the gaze of an eternal monarch who crusades for the betterment of all.
>Envision it with all thy might. Look not to the fraying edges of thy vision and the wicked falsehoods that lurk there. Those crops planted deep in the loam are assuredly not twitching limbs. From the trees and maypoles hang magnificent garlands, not slick ropes of entrails dripping red. Thy crimson wine bears no strange copper tang. The meat set upon thy table does not scream and thrash as dirty fingers tear at it. It does not beseech thee for mercy.
>'Tis within thy deserving grasp, kinsman. Thou needst only take communion with us.
>The feast awaits. We have set a place for thee.