Summer 22nd, Year 510
The sun dipped over the edge of a jagged horizon. Massive towers of rock lined the ground like great earthy teeth for miles in each direction, and the sky bled light red in preparation of the twilight that would soon fall. Atop a 60 foot spire of earth stood the silhouette of a man. This was the Everstone forest in the hour of sunset, a mass of land where fifty foot limestone stalagmites jutted out of the earth and dwarfed even the trees. It was all but literally a forest made of stone. No one was really sure how such a thing came to be, but most simply considered it a wonder of nature.
And that brought us to the man. Being a follower of the goddess Caiyha, he had been drawn to this place with the hope of learning more about the many wonders of the natural world. Sadly, the land had not been so eager to meet him. In his many years traveling the Sylira region, he had come to be able to find his way through the hills and forest with much more ease than when he had first left behind his home. The spires of rock however, formed a maze that disoriented the senses and had left him lost. Now atop his stony perch, he looked out over the forest in hopes of reclaiming his sense of direction. Unfortunately he had long since come to realize that his climb up this small mountain was to be a fruitless endeavor. While the rock he stood on was the tallest that he could successfully climb, it was not the tallest. Soon after reaching its peak he had realized that there was nothing to be seen from his vantage point but the tip an endless sea of stone and moss.
His stomach let out a growl.
It had been days since he had eaten and he had long since grown tired of the jerky he always carried but never ate. Unable to feast upon the bounty of plants that littered the trees and bushes of the forest, he would have to hunt for his meat if he hoped to have a dinner aside from jerky. But to hunt meant that he would have to climb down. The man glanced down at the earth below, then to a tree to his left, and then causally he turned his gaze back to the setting sun. It would have to wait. He let out a relaxed breath and watched as the bright colors of the sky lit up in stark contrast to the shale grey stone. He himself seemed to be part of the effect. While his plain dark colored clothes of green, brown, and grey matched well with the earthy colors below, the bright copper strands of his hair caught fire in the light of the sun. The light wind that snaked between the stones caressed the folds of his cloak and gently rustled his normally dull mane of hair. It must have been a sight to see. A man with hair like a glowing like a warm flame, calmly watching the setting sun from atop the highest spire around. But the man knew better.
His name was Svan, and once again, he was stuck.
The sun dipped over the edge of a jagged horizon. Massive towers of rock lined the ground like great earthy teeth for miles in each direction, and the sky bled light red in preparation of the twilight that would soon fall. Atop a 60 foot spire of earth stood the silhouette of a man. This was the Everstone forest in the hour of sunset, a mass of land where fifty foot limestone stalagmites jutted out of the earth and dwarfed even the trees. It was all but literally a forest made of stone. No one was really sure how such a thing came to be, but most simply considered it a wonder of nature.
And that brought us to the man. Being a follower of the goddess Caiyha, he had been drawn to this place with the hope of learning more about the many wonders of the natural world. Sadly, the land had not been so eager to meet him. In his many years traveling the Sylira region, he had come to be able to find his way through the hills and forest with much more ease than when he had first left behind his home. The spires of rock however, formed a maze that disoriented the senses and had left him lost. Now atop his stony perch, he looked out over the forest in hopes of reclaiming his sense of direction. Unfortunately he had long since come to realize that his climb up this small mountain was to be a fruitless endeavor. While the rock he stood on was the tallest that he could successfully climb, it was not the tallest. Soon after reaching its peak he had realized that there was nothing to be seen from his vantage point but the tip an endless sea of stone and moss.
His stomach let out a growl.
It had been days since he had eaten and he had long since grown tired of the jerky he always carried but never ate. Unable to feast upon the bounty of plants that littered the trees and bushes of the forest, he would have to hunt for his meat if he hoped to have a dinner aside from jerky. But to hunt meant that he would have to climb down. The man glanced down at the earth below, then to a tree to his left, and then causally he turned his gaze back to the setting sun. It would have to wait. He let out a relaxed breath and watched as the bright colors of the sky lit up in stark contrast to the shale grey stone. He himself seemed to be part of the effect. While his plain dark colored clothes of green, brown, and grey matched well with the earthy colors below, the bright copper strands of his hair caught fire in the light of the sun. The light wind that snaked between the stones caressed the folds of his cloak and gently rustled his normally dull mane of hair. It must have been a sight to see. A man with hair like a glowing like a warm flame, calmly watching the setting sun from atop the highest spire around. But the man knew better.
His name was Svan, and once again, he was stuck.
