Distovia wilderness opens wide and cold, a wash of bent grass and black stone under a pale sky. Behind Surazal, the broken gate still throbs faintly with holy light. Ahead, the land rolls into ash-dusted gullies and thorn scrub.
The air here is cleaner, but the corruption in his chest is not.
A thin line of grey ash snakes across the ground from the gate, and where it touches the grass, the blades curl and die. Malakor kneels near the edge of it, staring upward as if awaiting a sign.
Malakor
The master should choose the road ahead. We will follow.
Oren
Don’t linger. If the gate’s calling them, the patrols will come on the same wind.
A distant clatter carries over the heath. On the ridge to the north, a lone figure in travel-worn leathers appears beside a crooked marker stone, watching the party without moving.
The Stranger
You made it out. Good. Now pick a direction before the holy hounds do it for you.
“I will head to a lone cave and bring none of them with me I am a loner no one else will travel with me unless I say so”
SUCCESS (Legendary Agility, rolled +1)