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On The Road To The New Town - Printable Version

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On The Road To The New Town - DARKJAY - 01-05-2018

“Happy New Year!” Everyone is in good spirits as you celebrate the incoming new year and the passing of the year past. There is no ill will, only pleasantries, and any animosity has been set aside in favour of a pleasant start to the new year.


As the party winds down, you sit by the blazing fire with a mug of ale. You lean back and relax, enjoying the warmth of the hearth, reflecting on the adventures of the last year and your most recent travels. You turn to peer out the cabin's pair of windows at the steadily falling snow, so calm and gentle, but, yet, also a very cold reminder that you are still nowhere close to where you wish to be.


You are now well over a month into what was originally rumoured to be a seven-day journey. The relentless assault of the winter months has pretty much dictated that this is where you will remain for the duration. With the hope of an early thaw, the guides are now anticipating your arrival at the new settlement in the early spring. As you watch the falling snow, you reflect on how Sylvik's unpredictability of the natural world has greatly delayed your journey.


Your first day began smooth enough, as the guides were able to push everyone along at a quick pace through the nearby farmland and gently rolling hills.  A short stopover for traveling supplies in a nearby village allows for some very brief, and last minute information gathering for those that have the financial means to do so – there is a tiny temple to Urgo manned by an Elven librarian awaiting compensation for its use, and in the center of the village are three shrines, one for Light, Grey, and Dark, each with their own magically locked donation box. A few of the guards and scouts are also willing to trade information, but only if the price is right. As you leave the village to continue on your journey, you suspect this might be the last settlement you see until you arrive at your new home.


By early afternoon on the first day, you had already reached the edge of the deep forest. The trek through the woods began as a pleasant walk, though at a much slower pace.  At nightfall, you make camp in a clearing near a small stream just large enough to fit everyone comfortably. As the sound of bubbling brook lulls everyone to sleep, the clear night passes without incident. Those who stayed awake to keep watch report nothing but the rustling of the normal creatures of the woods. It seemed as though this would be a pleasant, uneventful journey.


You awoke refreshed at dawn the next morning, eager to continue on to your destination. Those who went out to hunt provided a good and hearty breakfast for all. The day's journey began with the low late autumn sun on your back through the dense forest. Travel had become much slower through the twisted branches and heavy undergrowth. Though filtered through the trees, the sunlight brightened the thick underbrush enough to navigate through its thick brambles during the day, but nightfall seemed to come early that night as the clouds rolled in choking off the light. Your second evening was far less comfortable, with sticks and dry leaves constantly poking into everyone's backs as you slept through the night. Though sleep was far less restful than the first evening, the night passed without much of a stir, save for the occasional wolf's howls or owl's hoots - another quiet night.


Overnight, the air became noticeably cooler, a light wind picking up from the north. The third day began with clouds obscuring the sun, casting much of the deep forest into near darkness. Travel through the underbrush became even more difficult, with many becoming entangled in the thick growth. Despite the very slow navigation, the guides claimed that you were making good time. Perhaps, you wondered, this declaration was more of a mere motivator than of true fact, as many were becoming visibly frustrated with the difficulty of this part of the journey. Morale was certainly much lower this day, as was the temperature.


Nightfall came early again, though most were more than ready to stop several hours before. Exhaustion overruled discomfort and into a deep slumber most fell. Those keeping watch struggled to stay awake, as the pains of the day's difficult travel chewed at their muscles and the cold of the night crept into their bones. The campfire grew low, as did their eyelids, heavy with fatigue. Luckily for everyone, the night was still, save for the cold north wind chill.


On the morning of the fourth day, you awoke to the dim light of an overcast sky as flurries began to waft lazily through the camp. The early morning air was quite cold, the north wind blowing much more forcefully. The morning hunt turned up very little, beginning the day with unsatisfying trail rations, and an empty, ominous feeling. At breakfast, someone in the traveling party tried to lighten the mood by saying, “My guess is we must be about half way by now. We're almost there,” though their tone suggested that they really didn't believe it.


Even with the sun completely obscured by clouds, you sensed that your elevation was rising and your travel had changed to a more northward direction – it wasn't that difficult to determine the direction, as the snow, which was falling lightly but also quite steadily, was blowing downward, directly into your face.


After many hours of travel, you notice the terrain had become much steeper and quite rocky, the vegetation a bit more sparse and easier to travel through. The snow had tapered off and the sky even brightened up a bit, your surroundings hinting at a slight improvement in your current situation - the snow blanketed the area in a wintry shroud of pristine beauty, a scene so serene that, for an instant, you forgot about the difficulties of this journey thus far. The cold, crisp air was almost refreshing in that moment, revitalizing you in the fading light of the late day sun.


As the night settled in, your camp was in good spirits, renewed by the natural beauty of the surrounding landscape. Despite the cold, everyone slept soundly...until just before dawn. Suddenly, the ground began to violently shudder, abruptly shaking everyone from their slumber. The earth shook with such anger and savagery that no one could get to their feet. The aggression seemed to last for eternity, though only for just a few moments, and then it stopped, calm and quiet, just as before, as if nothing had happened.


Everyone in the camp sat upright in their bedrolls and stared at each other in awe. “Probably just a small earthquake,” someone suggested. As unsettling as it was, it was a logical explanation. As you laid back down, a large herd of very startled and wild-eyed goats trampled south through the campsite in an obvious panic. It seemed that no one would be getting any more sleep that night.


At first light of the fifth day, the camp had already been packed up and the group was traveling north again. After less than only a couple of hours, the lead scout returned with a look of disdain on his face. “We have a problem,” he said. “Up ahead, about a mile or two, is supposed to be a natural land bridge across a narrow 30-40 foot deep crevasse with a small stream below.” He paused for a moment and drew a deep breath. “I believe I know what woke us last night. The far side of the crevasse collapsed. The land bridge is gone, the stream is gone, the fissure is now more than 100 yards wide and so deep that you can't see – or hear - the bottom. It's like the earth just fell away and disappeared. We have no choice but to go around.”


After observing the fissure, the scouts determined that it was becoming more narrow towards the north, but far north. Your group followed the edge of the enormous new ravine for many days looking for an area narrow enough to allow for an to attempt to cross.


Over the next days, the weather grew colder and the wind noticeably stronger as you ascended into the more rocky and mountainous area to the north. Despite the bright midday sun, the days never seemed to get warmer. Then, the thick clouds returned to resume their icy assault. On the eighth day of the detour, it began to snow once again, the cold seeping into your bones, its biting chill eating at your core, destroying what little remained of your morale. You were just about to give up all hope when one of the scouts returned with the good news: they had found a place to cross.


Across a less wide part of the ravine rested the remnants of a rock slide. A large boulder had dislodged from the ledge above and wedged between the debris and the far side bank. The guides felled a very large, tall tree across the ravine to span the gap. One by one, each member of the traveling party slowly and cautiously crept across the makeshift bridge, the frigid cavern air assaulting every tedious step as the accumulating snow threatened to dislodge your every footfall amassed with the terror of the high potential for expulsion into the cavernous ravine below.


It took the better part of the afternoon for everyone to cross. The intensity of the snowfall had increased sharply, and visibility was rapidly decreasing as the howling wind whipped up the snow into a violent frenzy of stinging ice crystals. The journey continued southwest through the blinding blizzard, snow and frost caking up on the cloth over your nose and mouth. Your feet went numb hours before; the depth of the snow climbing steadily in your path.


Trudging through the nearly knee-deep snow fatigued you to the point of exhaustion. The roaring wind drowned out the voice of the person plodding alongside you. The blinding snow obscured the person ahead of you. Nothing remained of your perception, the storm dulling your senses. For a while you believed you had actually begun heading north again, the sharp wind burning into your eyes once again, as it assaulted you head-on with its bitter, icy cold.


In a near zombie-like trance, you followed the silhouette of the figure ahead of you, as the darkness and foreboding of the harsh night ahead began to descend upon you. Far ahead, you believed you saw a large, dark shape looming ahead, a hulking form much larger than any of the wildlife in this area. In the near darkness, it appeared to be watching you, its unblinking eyes glowing in the distance. The entity was unmoving, its steady gaze unwavering as you approached. Fear grew within, yet the traveling party seemed to be heading directly towards it. “Surely the scouts have seen this,” you think nervously to yourself, yet, to your dismay, onward straight ahead trudged the weary, exhausted, near-frozen traveling party.


The looming figure began to take shape as you approached – it was brown and scaly, its back covered in snow, its mouth now agape, glowing red with fire. Into its great maw the lead guide went, though it was now clear this “creature” would not attack the party. While the remainder of the party crossed the ravine, the scouts had gone ahead and found an abandoned hunting lodge earlier in the day. Several returned to redirect the traveling party northward towards the shelter to ride out the storm, and one other stayed behind to prepare. A fire had already been lit in anticipation of your arrival.


It was a small hovel, yet there seemed to be enough space for everyone to rest comfortably on the dust-covered floor. Most important, it was warm and dry, and had some unspoiled food stores – the supply of trail rations had dwindled to nearly nothing from the unanticipated detour. Someone even found a few bottles of mead and a small cask of ale tucked away. This dank, dusty shack in the middle of nowhere seemed quite superior to the finest inn in the land.


After regaining your senses by the warmth of the blazing fire, the lead guide addressed the traveling party. “Folks, as you all may have guessed, we are likely going to be snowed in here for some time, as Sylvik's winter wrath has taken a very firm hold. The snow is becoming very deep and nearly impassible. Fortunately, we do have shelter, but not much food remaining. Once there is a break in the snowfall, we can send people out to hunt, but, for the time being, sit back, warm yourselves by the fire and try to make the best of it.”


After five more days of heavy snow and bitter cold, howling wind, the weather broke long enough for a brief, yet successful hunt before resuming its icy onslaught once again. This trend has continued over the last few weeks, with not much to do in between hunts and gathering firewood. You think to yourself, “Spring cannot come soon enough.”


RE: On The Road To The New Town - Kora - 01-05-2018

this is so cool ^^ no pun intended <3