#title:Traveller's Tale, part two
#types:ruins
#
I keep my pace. The Sun rises again over the soft, white ground.

The dead surround me. Relics of ages long past. And still, I continue.

Will I perish before reaching the Mountains of the North? Will this journey ever cease? My heart grows weary.

Yesterday, I came upon a small hovel in the clearing of a withered forest. The residents lay long dead; the foul stench of rotting flesh hung in the air, rank as the pits of the Enemy.

Many Wargs and Orcs have I slain in recent days.