[center][b][h3]Northbound Team - to Whiteside[/h3][/b]
[@Rune_Alchemist] [@drewccapp] [@Spanner][/center]

[i]“People ask me, 'What is the use of climbing the Frostfell Summit?' and my answer must at once be, 'It is of no use.' There is not the slightest prospect of any gain whatsoever. Oh, we may learn a little about the endurance of the human body at such heights. But otherwise nothing will come of it. We shall not bring back a single bit of gold or silver, not a gem, nor any coal or iron... If you cannot understand that there is something in us which responds to the challenge of this mountain and goes out to meet it, that the struggle is the struggle of life itself upward and forever upward, then you won't see why we go. ”[/i] 

[right]-- Utgar Reinholdt, famous explorer and mountain climber[/right]

Like a prodigious white fang excrescent from the jaw of the world, Frostfell’s greatest peak tore through the clouds and towered into the sky. The pristine white of its glacial sheets blanketed its northern slopes and shelves of ice formed stepped terraces along its southern base. The treacherous range was cold and windy. Few people would ever travel here willingly, hoping to avoid the blizzard-plagued mountains.

However, some were forced to eke out a living in this unforgiving winter landscape. 

The cool waters of a running stream snaking down the mountain slopes cut a shallow trench through a narrow gulley. Nestled between two steep crags was a small village marked by the rime-covered wooden bridges that span the gap. Frostfell Summit loomed above the horizon behind it like a foreboding monolith. Rickety abodes seem precariously settled on natural ledges while others seem to make homes in the stone itself. A warm orange glow filtered through several of the shuttered windows. The largest of these structures, a hunting cabin, straddled the modest river. The wind smells rich and earthy as a warm, resinous scent faintly prickled the back of the nose. Drifts of dark smoke forms tapered columns above the cabin’s chimney.

Having caught sight of the chimney smoke at a distance and travelled towards its source, four adventurers enter the small gorge and lay eyes on the quaint mountain village. 

[img]https://pre08.deviantart.net/5de0/th/pre/i/2014/233/3/d/mountain_village_by_lartiste_punk-d7w3upd.jpg[/img]

A rider on horseback races away from the quiet stables in a furious gallop. White plumes erupt from the steed’s snout every time it thrusts its powerful legs forward. Even at a distance, the rider seems to be in a hurry. It takes the downward slope at a breakneck pace, then cuts eastward along a well-kept mountain trail. His fur-trimmed coat billowed in the wind as he cut across the adventurers’ path.

[center][b][h3]Southbound Team A - to Arcos City[/h3][/b]
[@Rune_Alchemist] [@Hammerman] [@13org][/center]

The sinuous path of the mountain trail lead southeast to fork. A sign marked the way, but was timeworn and covered in rime. Ultimately, the decision of which direction to was left to fate.

The road winded into an old forest tightly packed with ash and fir. The air was heavy and stale. It tasted of mulch and loam. Snow dusted the leaves of the canopy except where bald hills, barren of any foliage except the most stubborn of shrubs, crested above the tree line. Thin pillars of light strike the ground and while a warm, yellow haze meanders along the forest floor, banishing much of the darkness and gloom. Only a few distant patches remain occluded by shadow.
Parts of the trail were hidden by overgrowth and disuse, but eventually merge into a well-travelled highway. The boughs of the trees have been trimmed back and arch over the road as if to form a natural tunnel. The passage of many wagons over the years have etched troughs into the ground, marking the lane. 

Three adventurer’s have taken to the road, eager to discover a new world. A lone caravaneer approached them from behind. With a tug of the reigns, the stalwart auroch slowed to a halt. The portly man driving the wagon regarded the three travellers with outright suspicion at first. Easily underestimated, the man possessed a large, stocky frame and seemed naturally capable of supporting his ponderous girth. A stark contrast to the rest of him, his face was lean and rugged. His thick moustaches bristled forward like a prawn’s and partially hid the frown tugging on his lips. His eyes were calculating and corded muscle tightened beneath a deceptive layer of fat. In another life, he might have been a famous pugilist or wrestler, but the various barrels and cloth sack in the bed of his wagon suggested a different profession currently. The man’s intense expression slowly became a bit softer as he continued to scrutinize the strangers. 

[i]Three women alone on the road with no escort? Bandit’s I’ll wager… or adventurers. They’re obviously not pilgrims, and they’re dressed too strangely to be natives. They’re not wearing adventurer plates... perhaps they were new recruits? Still… they’re young enough to be my daughters![/i] The man’s stomach churned at the thought.

“Are you folks by chance from the Adventurer’s Guild?” His shoulders were relaxed and his voice polite, but one hand was already slowly reaching for the short sword hidden beneath his cloak. Depending on their answer, he might be forced to overrun them and escape. 

[center][b][h3]Southbound Team B - to Woodstop[/h3][/b]
[@TheFake] [@Lord Zee][/center]

“By now I’m sure you’re aware of the dire state our once-noble kingdom is in.  Entire cities have been razed by the beastmen, with their inhabitants slaughtered on the spot or taken back to their camps to stay fresh until they, too, are to be eaten.  The military is stretched thin; what few adventurers haven’t abandoned us can’t make enough of a difference.  Morale is at an all-time low.  Queen Oriculus has in secret conceived of a desperate gamble to turn the tide: to construct a hidden base in the forest at the edge of the territory our family once governed, and after the hordes have swept past it, launch an offensive behind enemy lines to eliminate the beastmen’s leadership.  It’s fallen to you, my sons, to spearhead this endeavor and strike a blow for humanity against the savages before they can rally their full strength into an all-out invasion.  I assure you that I do not exaggerate when I say this endeavor may be our last hope to stem the tide.”

[right]-Countess Signy Asgierr[/right]

Through the hours of nighttime the journey lasted, rolling steadily onward until a smidgen of brightness on the horizon heralded a crack of dawn.  Even as the comet overhead was masked by the radiance of the breaking day, Emile flew overhead to chart the course.  Having elected to descend from the mountain where realities’ conflux had desposited them, the four skirted the range’s edge along the boundary between tree and stone.  From on high the strigiforme could scout the oncoming terrain with ease, swooping down to inform Kallahar, Revenmar, and Lenore about obstacles and paths to avoid or traverse.  The southbound group’s aerial scout also got his first glimpse at this new world’s life, and he could not say he liked what he saw.  In clearings in the wood, or atop hills and knolls rising from the canopy, he could spy crude settlements of tents with their plumes of black smoke.  Creatures that appeared to be half man and half animal inhabited them, resting, making preparations for battle, or fighting among themselves.  Even in the air he could detect the sickly scent of what they were eating, and it was with a palpable grimness that he went down to tell the others that this region was home to beastmen who devoured humans.

Some time into the morning, during one of his chance rangings farther away from the main group, he spotted something curious.  In a part of the forest filled with enormous trees packed too think to cram a fox through, his golden eyes could make out the shapes of buildings below the canopy.  Curious, he descended for a closer look.  After Emile landed in the upper bows of a towering tree, he discovered to his surprise a fortified village hidden in the dappled sunlight.  It was filled with people, all working with a degree of industry that seemed usual for an ordinary town.  Rather, it didn’t suit his expectations.  He stared, wide-eyed, at everyone bustling around.  [i]Okay, okay, okay.  Real people, got to think this through.  Can’t come in and make a big scene.  No dropping in out of the sky, surrounded by nature.  Judging from all the walls and guards, this place’s got to be guarding against those animal tribes I saw earlier.  So wherever we are, it’s a struggle between man and beast.  We have to tread lightly.[/i]  As quietly as he could, the strigiforme lofted into the air and made a birdline back to where he’d last seen his team.

He touched down on the rocky hillside across which the knights and the Flesh Smith were riding.  As she’d been for a while now, his niece was moving using ‘Body Surf’, which in Yggdrasil had been like standing on top of a fleshy wave but in this world was far more disturbing.  Like Scylla, the monster from greek myths, Lenore moved using an extension of her lower body that took the shape of a mass of fleshy beasts to drag her quickly across the ground.  At first refusing to take her head out of her hands, Lenore had been able to proceed after some time by doing her best to ignore the mess beneath her, but even now she was still teary-eyed.

[color=5D8AA8]“There’s a village a ways off in the forest to the right.  It’s well-defended, and looks like it’s mostly human.”[/color]  He pulled off his helmet to get a breath of fresh air, and scratched his feathery head.  [color=5D8AA8]“Maybe we oughta split into two groups.  We don’t wanna attract attention, so it’d be best if me an’ Revanmar went ahead.”[/color]