With your shopping completed, you track down your carriage back north to Starilaskur, then east on the lightning rail to Varithrond, and then again via carriage to the edge of the dreaded Mournland. In total, it's four days of travel between New Cyre and Salvation, and that's only thanks to House Kundarak footing the travel bill. Had they skimped on the lightning rail tickets, it would be a much more arduous journey – but then, they're the ones hiring you, so it's only right they pay the bill. Whether he negotiated with them ahead of time or not, Oargev also, somehow, managed to get them to shell out first class tickets for you instead of standard travel fare, so you get a day of comfort speeding on the backbone of Orien's power before you're back in the horse-drawn carriage for the last leg of the journey.
No matter how many times you may have crossed into the Mournland, it's unlikely seeing its border ever gets any easier. A wall of ever shifting, ever silently screaming faces made up of darkened cloud, reaching high into the sky beyond that which even Lyrandar's airships feel comfortable flying. From Varithrond, the faces are too indistinct to see clearly and it appears a mass of grey, but as you get closer the shapes become clear. No matter how indistinct, there always seems to be a face at the edge of your vision that appears to take the shape of someone you knew.
Salvation is the largest outpost this side of the Mournland border, but that doesn't mean it's big – smaller even than New Cyre. With perhaps a dozen buildings at most, no major transport links aside from carriages like the one you ride in, and a population that fluctuates based upon which salvagers kicked the bucket lately, Salvation is a wild town sustained solely by luck and people driven so far to despair they're willing to risk it all on the hopes of finding a big score. In many ways, earning the attention of a patron is a golden ticket, one that some salvagers might just kill you for, if they thought it might earn them your position.
A swift trip to the tavern in town has you pick up the requisite 40 bottles of Goodberry Wine from the local vendor (one of the few things they always have ample stock of – most Goodberry Wine from the western side of Khorvaire travels to Salvation, one way or the other, and for some Ghallanda establishments it's a source of tidy, regular profit), and then you're back on foot for the final step.
A chill passes through you when you touch the wall of silent screams, one that urges the weakwilled to lay down and die, but you push through, and a moment later you're inside the fog.
Crossing into the Mournland Music
The first true hazard of the Mournland is not the mutated denizens, the Lord of Blades and his warforged cultists, or the wild magic and living spells that cover the blighted land, but rather passing through the screaming mists into the Mournland proper. A maddening place, the befaced clouds swarm around you and threaten to throw you off your desired path, to draw you from each other and to drive you mad. For some, this leads them in circles until they die of thirst, but you've crossed before – and though overconfidence can kill, it's unlikely you'll suffer such a fate, but the picked-clean bodies you pass by are a stark reminder that it can happen to anyone.
Spoiler: OOC
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Pick a navigator (whoever has the highest Survival modifier, I'm guessing) and give me a survival roll, with advantage (either because of helping each other or your own experience, fluff it how you like), DC15.
Only one person gets to roll - you're not following different people in different directions, after all.
Re: Cyre Red (IC)
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