The man has spent weeks traveling through the eternal winter of the Crown of the World, down through the wild lands of the Mammoth Lords. Traveling through Ustalav was a bit of a reprise for him, bringing a slight grin to his rugged face…almost reminded him of home…almost.
Crossing Lake Encarthan was simple enough, simply bartering passage on one of the frequent merchant ships bound for Kerse out of Caliphas. From there, the stranger turned his traveling boots ever southward and made for the Five Kings Mountains. Getting across was an adventure in itself but cross it he did to find himself on the edge of Darkmoon Vale.
Looking across the tree tops of the forest below he could sense it, feel it just as suredly as one would feel a gentle breeze. The presence of fate, for ill or not was here. His eyes looked beyond the woods, the sounds of axes striking, of trees falling…. beyond that to a remote, quiet village where children played in the streets while their fathers were hard at work in the lumber camps within the Vale or the lumber yard at the Consortium and their mothers went about the chores of day to day life. He could smell the baking bread, the stew on the fire and….
The man grunted as he adjusted his pack and pulled the hood of his simple cloak over his head before setting off again. His next stop would give him a bit of rest before the long journey continues. His next stop….