A cold morning on Rossman’s Landing
The dawn was bleak that morning, looking out over Gwenalion. Surprisingly warm, considering it’s nearly winter. Making my way up the mistwood road was a bit tricky, with all the fog rolling through, but I managed not to get myself too lost among all the twists and turns.
A hundred and twenty years in Kermoria, and I’ve still not managed to see it all. Plenty of places I’ve never been, and some I’d like to forget I ever laid eyes on. From the beaches of Hara’jaal to the ice caves of Ilithi, I’ve trekked this land for more than my share of a lifetime. And yet, something still calls to me, urging me on to greater things. To explore that forest, to climb that mountain. To find out what, exactly, lies at the end of the river.