[Spoken: Jonny d'Ville]
While the Pendragons were away, fighting and dying in the bandit-ridden sub-levels, Mordred and Gawain spent their time running Camelot and arguing. If Gawain was too quick to hang, maybe Mordred was too quick to pardon, but between them they kept the town running. Through it all Mordred reasoned, cajoled and pleaded with Gawain for the one thing that had been in his mind since he walked into Camelot so many years ago: peace with the Saxons. A truce with the ghouls. 

Arthur had always denied any such requests and did not believe the ghouls capable of reason enough for such negotiations, but now Mordred had the power, and if Gawain could not be persuaded to support him, neither could he stop him. 

And so Mordred returned to his adopted home of Annwn, in the lightless depths of the outer station, where the radiation shielding was weakest, leaving the ghouls twisted, sickly creatures. He once again walked among the carrion cooking fires, the huts of bone and gristle, and those clothed in the leather of their fallen friends, for nothing went to waste among the Saxons. And to the highest of their chieftains, he brought his proposal.