After two and a half centuries the Blood Mist had finally begun to clear. Once again it became possible for us to leave our village in safety. Too many had perished attempting to navigate the Mist, so our first forays beyond the borders were tentative and cautious.
Slowly outsiders began to visit. Wanderers, merchants and rangers. Occasionally a story-teller would come bringing news of foreign parts. Telling his tales in return for food and board only to move on to the next village a day or two later.
They told tales of other towns, hubs of commerce where trade was once again flourishing. Tales of great beasts wandering the land preying on the weak. But most impressively, tales of ancient places, vast fortresses and hidden dungeons, abandoned since before the Mist. Places filled with forgotten treasures just waiting to be claimed by those brave enough to try.
The map had always hung in the village hall. As a child you were obsessed with it, spending hours tracing your fingers along it’s worn pathways, it’s rivers and it’s coastlines. What once seemed like a dream is now real.
Beyond the borders life will be hard. There will be trials and dangers beyond imagination. But there will be adventure, there will be riches…
…and there will be glory!