WOT Adv 22 - Caemlyn

--- The Wheel Turns ---
You sigh in frustration. Yet another delay and you can't determine which way Maeslyn might have gone... at least not yet.

With the rain dribbling around you, you pack up your lunch and then examine the ties that once held the bridge above the gorge. But you can't really tell what caused it to collapse. It's possible it was cut, but it looks equally plausible that a simple force of nature caused its demise. Perhaps it was cut part way and then snapped... you're not sure.

You shrug, rearrange the gear you're carrying, and decide to climb down the wet, rocks to the river bottom to better examine the situation.

Pulling out your silk rope you quickly knot it to a nearby tree and begin your climb. You hold firmly to the rope and rappel down the slippery slope. While it's not a shear slope, the wet slippery rocks makes it a somewhat treacherous climb, regardless, and one misstep could mean your end.

Some 15 paces down to the bottom your foot misses its hold, and you cling to the wall, grateful for the rope in case you actually slip and lose your grip completely.

The rope doesn't reach completely to the bottom. You untie it from your waist and gauge that it's still some nine paces to the bottom. Not enough to kill you-- you don't think. You untie the rope from your waist and use any available foot and hand holds as best you can to continue your descent.

Luckily, you make it to the bottom of the ravine without incident.

The noise from the waterfall is much louder down at the river bottom. You spend a few moments searching the region for clues, but don't find much of anything. There doesn't appear to be any footprints or hoof prints down here at all. Nor do you find any signs of injury.

And you start your climb back up and make it back to your rope without a problem. You feel much better with the rope once more securely tied about your waist. You continue your ascent eventually make your way to the top, only having a little difficulty where you lost your foothold on your way down.

You gather up your rope and decide she must have went around the ravine some other way, either by climbing up the north east or by taking the more obvious route to the south east.

You figure you know Maeslyn well enough that she would be sensible enough to stay on the horse and not try any rock climbing just to save a few hours of travel. And so you decide to head south east.

Staying on the east side of the river you follow the lip of the gorge for the rest of the afternoon. By evening the rain stops and the clouds part. You catch a beautiful sunset when you come to a clearing that rises above the trees allows you to see the country side for many miles.

Far in the distance to the west you can see the main road veering in a near eastward direction, away from the direction you suppose Caemlyn to be. Your guessing Maeslyn tried to take a shortcut of some sort since the main road appears to skirt around this large forested area.

For nearly four hours you search for any sign of Maeslyn finding nothing, then just as darkness is about to come upon you, you notice a couple of hoof-prints, probably made within the last week or so. You're hoping it is her.

You pass the night in a peaceful meadow deep in the wilderness somewhere north of Caemlyn. Without a trail, your only hope is to continue following these meager signs that will lead you Maeslyn.

The next morning you continue following the hoof prints, until they travel over some rocky ground and you lose them momentarily until you see the prints pick back up some distance beyond the rocky ground.

For five hours you follow the prints, moving at a snails pace in comparison to your earlier speeds simply following a road over open terrain.

By evening again, you guess you've moved some 10 to 15 miles and you've lost the tracks again in the failing light. You eat a quick meal and fall into a light sleep.

Morning comes and again you strike out. You hike for nearly an hour and find no sign. You turn back and try again in a slightly different direction. Still, no sign. And then once more.

Finally you catch the trail again. A mere print in a small pool of muddied water but there it is, at least it's something.

The prints finally turn southwards and by about mid-day you find yourself crossing the river that a days journey north away was at the bottom of a gorge. It appear that Maeslyn eventually crossed the river here... if these are indeed the prints of your horse.

You follow the trail for a day and it seems to head in a northward direction and the elevation begins climbing again. Thick vegetation pushes you and the tracks you're following away from the gorge and soon the tracks seem to wander aimlessly about. This way and that. You follow them for some miles only to see their direction change erratically. You shake your head; you should never have left here. She's lost.

Darkness comes again, and once more you pull out your rations, eat a cold meal, and with your cloak for your pillow fall into a dreamless sleep.

Dawn comes again. The prints are much clearer here and you follow them for the entire day without difficulty.

Another day passes in aimless wandering. However, eventually, at the end of the day, you notice that the prints meet up with an actual trail and turn south westward, in what you guess is the direction of Caemlyn.

You camp by the trail and in the morning you head out.

By mid-morning, you eventually find a marking. A small piece of blue cloth tied about a branch. Clearly the make of Maeslyn. This is indeed her trail. She at least made it around the gorge.

You're grateful to at least have a trail to follow, but you curse your luck when you notice your ration back is empty.

You now have to slow down to forage and hunt for food. You're not worried about it, but you realize it will cut how fast you can travel.

A day goes by and you manage to find a small rabbit to eat.

Luckily, it isn't winter yet and so your luck turns around while the next morning, you spend time tracking and bringing down a large stag. You cook up enough food to sustain you so you don't have to hunt for food for a few days.

For three more days you follow the trail and eventually the vegetation lessens and soon you're traveling over open ground and the trail meets up with the main road.

You find another marker of blue cloth. At least Maeslyn made it to the main road.

The final day toward Caemlyn consists of a broad road over gentle rolling hills. You see farmers in their fields bringing in the last of the crop.

As you approach the city, you marvel at it's size. You've never seen something so large. You can see glittering domes and tall towers in the distance and many buildings. Some distance away you notice a large contingent of andorian soldiers performing some military duty or other. Maeslyn has told you a little about Andor: a large wealthy kingdom, at the cross-roads of trade, it boasts a powerful and large military known as the "Queen's Guard". A small squad of some six soldiers approaches you at a trot on horseback. As they approach the sun gleams off burnished breastplates and helms.

Under their armor you see a coat of red sporting white cuffs and a white collar. A banner showing a white lion on a red field flaps in the wind held aloft by one of the riders of well cared for horses. You can certainly vouch that these soldiers seem well outfitted.

"Ho there, good traveler," the man pulls up his horse and pulls off his helm, revealing a shock of sandy blond hair. Holding his helm in his left hand, he nods in your direction and proffers you a polite smile and a searching gaze. "From whence do you come? And what business have you in Caemlyn?"