3. Wonders of Dendralis

13 Goldenglow 842, 3E

Road worn and fatigued, our expedition finally arrived to the mouth of the Great Western Corridor in high spirits on this 13th of Goldenglow 842, 3E. Though the journey to this northwest corner of Dendralis, and one of the most mythical lands of Terramora, has been long and arduous, the reward surpasses the wildest fantasies one could ever dream. My hands shake with such excitement that it is a struggle to put quill to paper. We rest outside the Meadows of Luna tonight to ensure we risk no property to the Piquetarí, but my heart fails to cease fluttering as I gaze upon the Gates of Luna from atop this hill.
It is difficult to comprehend that more time has passed since I last set foot in the Crescent City than it had been from my last step in the Olde World to my first step in Crescent City. The months passed on this journey have finally brought the wonders of Dendralis to life in ways that the texts of my youth could only dream of. And frankly, I dare not think Silas could have assembled us a better team for this expedition. The actions of my comrades have ensured that fortune remain by our side with every step - a support that I can only hope to return to each man individually in time.
Our early journey required over a month to complete, though in hindsight it feels to have been a mere wink in time compared to the trek beyond the realms of mankind. We set off westward from the Crescent City on 19 Emberbloom, traversing the Southshore Path that weaves its way through the chain of towns an tiny fishing thorps that comprise the Emerald Shores. Whilst this early stretch of the journey lacked the events that stories for taverns and descedants require, we found success in avoiding undue expenditure of our energy or rations, ensuring we remained well prepared for the wildlands ahead.

Escorting us along this straightforward path, the Eldertrees of the Greenwoodstood by along the forest's edge, guarding our every step. No description in my many texts readied me for the enormity and grandeur of these behemoths. To see their great size in the flesh - in the bark? - left me awestruck, barely able to comprehend that ancient days saw the entire continent covered in these massive sentinels of the Elderwood and its sacred magic within, standing inoffensively but imposing, a reminder that this land is their land. These gargantuan trees, seeming to be a relative to our Olde World oaks, stand upwards of a dozen feet across and reach so close to the celestial realm that one must crane their neck beyond reason to gaze upon their true height. Their distinct and comforting woody scent (even for a foreigner), along with their massive leaves dotting the forest floor provide some of the only certainty that these trees are indeed as natural as their normal sized brethren.

Eldertrees by Delvin Faroe by Collin Stephens via Bing CoPilot Image Creator

Just as my infatuation with the grandest tree in all of Terramora began to wane, we embarked on a brief expedition to one of Dendralis' other famed lands - the Fissures. With just over a day's hike west from the northward bend in the Shouthshore Path, the soft grass beneath our feet gave way to a rough, coarse terrain of porous black rock as far as the eyes could see, scant tufts of grass and thinned out shrubs dotting the few spots were soil still existed. The stench of rotten eggs suddenly surrounded us, permeating the depths of our nostrils swiftly as though we had walked through and invisible wall of the stink.
With heavy cloth wrapped across our faces, we pushed forward, soon setting our gaze upon the grail of this extemporaneous quest - a fissure. Stretching dozens of feet across and hundreds of feet long, this scar in the ground sent shivers down my spine. While the Eldertree makes one feel small, it offers a sense of comfort that a fissure will rip out of your soul and light aflame in Hellfire. Nothing, absolutely nothing, readies one to stand on the precipice of one of these scars and gaze upon the river of Hell no more than a dozen feet below them.
The most confounding discovery of this trip came within the valley, maybe a month prior this writing. A fortnight after striking north of Blackrock Reach, the party was accosted by a small crew of orc bandits. While we ultimately were able to dispatch of all five foes, the initial assault led us to seek refuge within a small cavern. Our relentless pursuers continued the chase, pushing us through an opening in the back of the cavern, leading us into a strange valley. The grass beneath our feet was of a richer hue and far thicker than we had tread on to this point, with individual blades the

The Lost Valley by Collin Stephens via Bing CoPilot Image Creator

width of a thumb. Meanwhile, the air felt weightier, almost cool, with the faintest hint of what could be construed as whispers carried by the soft breeze.
With but a few minutes to observe our surrounds before the stupid orcs found their way through the back of the cavern and to us, I picked jotted down a few new and picked a few blades of grass. It was while bent at the knee that I stumbled upon a large stone buried in the sod, clearly quarried as a sharp, chiseled corner stuck up through the grass. I quickly spun around, realizing all the near-white rocks scattered about the ground were not rocks at all, but indeed, more quarried stone. Turning back to the stone nearest myself, I reached down to pull back the grass alongside this surprise when the damn orcs broke into the valley, sending us running once more, their anger heightened from having lost two of their number by our bows while approaching us in the cavern.

Our ordeal with the bastard bandits fortunately resolved in short order, as we eliminated another via bow during our escape from the valley, after which we turned to face our pursuers, figuring seven men could handle two of these corrupted elfkin - a truth we proved in a mere few swings of our blades. Despite being awash in the rush that come with violent self-defense, I could not erase those stones from my mind. To this day they haunt me. Something about them was truly different, in a way I cannot define, just as I cannot define the origin of such things either. I must return to that valley....
The final month of so of our journey kept us mostly pinned against the eastern edge of the Great Western Corridor, moving in low light hours to avoid further incident with orcs. Mostly successful in this endeavor, we did come across a pair of the corrupted - brothers perhaps? - who thought they could take advantage of our crew. However, ego suffered them defeat, as their attempt to bully us without striking a blow resulted in an arrow striking through each of their throats, courtesy of one of our men.
That brings me to the present, and that greatest of views I have ever laid mine eyes upon. Just before sunset last we crested a nearby hill and saw the land we had been seeking from the trip's onset - a swath of windswept grasslands cutting between the walls of two mountain ranges, from which each flowed a massive waterfall, and beyond this gap in the rock lay glowing meadows as far as the eye could see. We had reached the Gates of Luna.
I barely slept, the excitement of seeing a land that many of my favorite authors of Dendralis had never witnessed in their lives denied my mind rest throughout the night. Early this morning we packed our camp and made our way towards the Gates, resetting our camp a few hundred yards away for tonight's return. We finally arrived to the majestic falls around midday, taking a break to rejoice and soak our feet in the pools below these 300-plus foot waterfalls. After the most relaxing respite we'd had in months, we ventured off into the Meadows for maybe an hour or two, slowly walking through the flowers, the hum of insects and chirps of birds creating the most delightful chorus over the droning roar of the waterfalls behind us.
Keen to avoid the thieving ways of the local inhabitants, we made our return to camp before nightfall. Here I sit upon a large boulder, gazing upon these truly sublime titans of the land and the glowing meadow of flowers, fireflies and other luminescent critters that lie beyond, basking in that roaring drone, heart aflutter. We have finally arrived.
Alas, I must rest. Tomorrow, we make firm our plans for the remainder of this journey, to decide how far into the meadows we will attempt to venture, and if we shall make our push to the Northlands, or if it is best we return home before the evil winter winds begin to blow on the frozen shores. I know sleep will not come easy, but my dreams will be filled with the incredible natural wonders of this land.
--Delvin