Roleplay from Grathe Geg (24 days, 4 hours ago)
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Riding down from the hill country, the seaside marshlands stretched out below Grathe. The ubiquitous cypress formed a domed canopy of dark green. Somewhere below that canopy black, cold water sat stilled amongst miniature islands of muck and detritus clumped around the cypress knees. The air picked up salt from the ocean and mixed it with the smell of decaying plants from the swamp before being rebuffed against the hill country. Grathe’s gaze traveled south along the margins of this marshland.
There, the canopy was broken by several large, empty hills, whose stark greyness contrasted against the surrounding vegetation. It was here the First Men formed their initial cities, flourishing on the interstitial zone between the ocean and the forested hills, reaping the bounties of both. Those hills were not just the remnants of their settlements, but the direct accumulation of that abundance: bones, ash and mollusk shells. Just as with the cypress in the marshland below them, the leftovers of the previous generation provided the backbone of the foundation for the future. One hill towered above the others, stretching nearly half a mile and raising up from the mucky ground by nearly 200 feet.
Grathe looked behind him, to the Sword of Khalkar, who was never for from their leader. These were the true warriors of the First Men, descending from the same stock that drove off the Remnants. Their line forged in battle, the weak never gaining the opportunity to live long enough to pass on their name.
“Make camp here. I will return at sunrise.”
