As the sun slowly sank into the distant horizon, the party traveled east along the ancient road that ran parallel to the cliff that Bysmir said divided Annwyn between the north and the south. At it’s heights the rolling hills of the gambirnin planes were connect by the grey waterfall of stone to the verdant mysteries of the Maktaer. The sea of autumn brown grass waved softly at their passage and a flock of green and brown birds spun a delicate web as they rose up to the heavens only to spiral down to the forest that lay at the base of the granite wall.
As the half light of dusk colored the land in deep purples a fog rose from below the cliff line, suspending the travelers in a haunted world of wisp and confusion. Even so, they press on, knowing that they should soon arrive at their destination. The road finally crest a slow rising hill and the soft hiss of the Vyrnag, the waterfall that lay in the center of Conivar.
Reassured by this sign, the travelers shrug off the encroaching chill and increased their speed, forcing weary feet to press on over the ancient path. Bysmir nervously recounted tales of the Knights of Autumn whose great hall, Tintara lays at the heart of of the city.
With only the echo of their footfalls to balance the growing sound of the unseen waterfall, the fog seems to grow thicker and thicker, as if it was trying to delay their arrival. To hold them at bay.
With a palpable sense of relief the blanket of white suddenly gave way and the shadow of a Conivar’s defenses appear in the distance. Unconsciously the party further increases their pace, seeking shelter from the oppressive fog. As they approach the moat, they can see that the earthen ramparts are topped with a tall wooden palisade. Any defender upon that wall would have a decisive advantage over their foe.
It’s then that they stop, the echo of their footsteps falling away into silence as they realize that the gates to the city stand open before them. They listen and hear nothing and after a moment loosen their weapons and ready themselves as they slowly continue with a heightened sense of caution.
As they pass into the city they can see some lights behind the shutters in some of the windows but they seems to few, too silent for a city this size. Perhaps it is the sound like a distant thunder where water must be falling into the air, high above the land below that creates the tension in the air. Perhaps it is the fog that has closed back in, sticking to everything it touched the whispers a sense of dread to that primal part of their brains. Perhaps it’s the half formed ghost of figures in the fog that seem to threaten even as they slip away that heralds some ancient instinct to seek safety and shelter beyond these wall.
It didn’t matter for the travelers had come too far to be dissuaded. This is the next step on the path that they have set for themselves and they have given up too much to allow a fear of shadows and phantasm to drive them away.