Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-29461586-20141221031533/@comment-5583506-20141221195159

The path to Shearpoint was littered with bandit groups and scavengers. Even long after the Civil War had ended the grim memories of the great battles still existed and had pushed soldiers from both sides to become renegades, raping and pillaging whatever they could come across. They wouldn't lay a single hand on her though.

They had all been alive and shouting when she had arrived, but in her wake she had left nothing but dismembered, lifeless bodies and survivors crying in pain because of the lethal wounds they had been given. Once Frostbite had started cleaning there wasn't really a stop to it...

The mountain ranges in the southern regions of the Pale were just as cruel and unforgiving as she remembered them. And she knew that somewhere up there was Shearpoint, an old word wall built since ages past.

She worked her way up the snowy pathways and set up a small camp on the cliffside. Even though she highly doubted that the map would lead her to something of true value it couldn't hurt to look. It wasn't like she had anything better to do with her time...