Post by K Man on Nov 9, 2014 10:46:04 GMT -5
Havarros answers the last of the questions. "Food and water are a plenty in the Old World - that's the least of your troubles. There's good clean streams to be found and plenty of hunting to be done, and if you know your fruits and root plants, you can find much to eat that way too."
"Keep your heads level, don't let the Old World spin you around. If you lose your way, you'll lose yourself...and then you'll lose everything."
Havarros' final words echo through your mind throughout the night. You toss and turn, get what little sleep you can, then join the rest of the crowd in the morning for the venture into the Old World. It's quite the event of pomp and circumstance, there are bands playing everything from lofty tunes to slow dirges, vendors attempting last minute sales, friends and family saying precious goodbyes. You are among hundreds that have chosen to march into the breach between the stone guardians - hundreds of souls willingly marching into the unknown, driven by desires for riches, fame...or in your case, searching for that which was lost. You spot Havarros on the fringe of the celebration, quiet and stoic, watching you as the crowd surges forward. He nods once approvingly, having trusted his family's honor to you.
You check your gear, take one last note of your supplies and take the first step forward. One by one your footsteps march you into the breach. The cold fog of the Old World wraps around your ankles, slowly deepening like a miasma of the forgotten. The cacophony of the marching souls is soon drowned out by the fog and the tundra beneath, the guardians looming ever closer. By the time they are overhead, grey monoliths to the Old World reaching into the sky, the bands and ruckus behind you have been completely drowned out. Those eager to get to their prize have charged ahead - and they too are completely lost in the thickening fog. A few behind you stumble about, murmuring as the fog grows ever thicker...they finally let fear get the better of them and they turn back to Midgate.
Once the guardians are behind you...the feeling of being alone sinks in deep. You can not hear the sounds of Midgate - even if you strain your ears - and those around you have disappeared into the mists. Even the sky behind you between the stone monuments looks somehow....different. The ground is soft, crusted with the cold dew of early morning. The sun tries to pierce the murk, the light reflecting into a blinding haze. It is nearly mid-day before you can finally get any bearing on your heading, the effluvium pushed down to knee level.
For the first time, the Old World spreads out before you. To the South, rolling hills pop in and out of the fog topped by the occasional tree and odd structure. To the North, the lands flatten and ruins stab out of the vapors - decrepit buildings in a terrible state of decay...seemingly centered around a barely visible tower. To the East, straight ahead, mountains can be barely seen rising on the horizon preceded by flat lands and occasional savannah trees that spread limbs desperately to reach the sky.
You pause to take a small bit of refreshment and dried meat. Which way will you go;
- to the North and the ruins around the tower?
- to the South and the rolling hills and odd structures?
- or straight ahead to the plains and the mountains beyond?
"Keep your heads level, don't let the Old World spin you around. If you lose your way, you'll lose yourself...and then you'll lose everything."
Havarros' final words echo through your mind throughout the night. You toss and turn, get what little sleep you can, then join the rest of the crowd in the morning for the venture into the Old World. It's quite the event of pomp and circumstance, there are bands playing everything from lofty tunes to slow dirges, vendors attempting last minute sales, friends and family saying precious goodbyes. You are among hundreds that have chosen to march into the breach between the stone guardians - hundreds of souls willingly marching into the unknown, driven by desires for riches, fame...or in your case, searching for that which was lost. You spot Havarros on the fringe of the celebration, quiet and stoic, watching you as the crowd surges forward. He nods once approvingly, having trusted his family's honor to you.
You check your gear, take one last note of your supplies and take the first step forward. One by one your footsteps march you into the breach. The cold fog of the Old World wraps around your ankles, slowly deepening like a miasma of the forgotten. The cacophony of the marching souls is soon drowned out by the fog and the tundra beneath, the guardians looming ever closer. By the time they are overhead, grey monoliths to the Old World reaching into the sky, the bands and ruckus behind you have been completely drowned out. Those eager to get to their prize have charged ahead - and they too are completely lost in the thickening fog. A few behind you stumble about, murmuring as the fog grows ever thicker...they finally let fear get the better of them and they turn back to Midgate.
Once the guardians are behind you...the feeling of being alone sinks in deep. You can not hear the sounds of Midgate - even if you strain your ears - and those around you have disappeared into the mists. Even the sky behind you between the stone monuments looks somehow....different. The ground is soft, crusted with the cold dew of early morning. The sun tries to pierce the murk, the light reflecting into a blinding haze. It is nearly mid-day before you can finally get any bearing on your heading, the effluvium pushed down to knee level.
For the first time, the Old World spreads out before you. To the South, rolling hills pop in and out of the fog topped by the occasional tree and odd structure. To the North, the lands flatten and ruins stab out of the vapors - decrepit buildings in a terrible state of decay...seemingly centered around a barely visible tower. To the East, straight ahead, mountains can be barely seen rising on the horizon preceded by flat lands and occasional savannah trees that spread limbs desperately to reach the sky.
You pause to take a small bit of refreshment and dried meat. Which way will you go;
- to the North and the ruins around the tower?
- to the South and the rolling hills and odd structures?
- or straight ahead to the plains and the mountains beyond?