1. Into the Unknown

3 Midsomarglow 842, 3E

I exhale a deep sigh as I step onto the dock.
That we arrived safely is a welcome reprieve from the journey that preceded. Despite having over 1000 years of cross-oceanic travel under our belt as a race, traversing the Great Ocean successfully is no small feat. We rode waves that would set even the hardiest sailor's stomach to churning, and fended off beasts that the darkest fairytales of my youth didn't dare reveal to young minds. To cross this vast expanse of sea requires a mettle that

even many seasoned sailors lack.
The first sight of land in the New World is a bittersweet moment as you are first touched by relief at the chance to be grounded again, only for the wave of realization to come crashing over you that achieving the feeling of land beneath your feet is still a long journey away. The eastern shores of the New World are lined with massive, foreboding sea cliffs that deny access with a vengeful glee that portents the idea that none shall pass. This cold greeting leaves a ship's captain with three options to bring his cargo ashore. He can steer north and face almost certain death by freeze as he attempts to voyage through uncharted islands of ice in the far far North. He can steer south, and face almost certain elimination by piracy. Or, he can seek to split the land and steer into the gnashing maw the precedes the ultimate destination that is the Land of Emeralds.

The Great Ocean Beast by Collin Stephens via Bing CoPilot Image Creator

The straight that splits Dendralis from the southern lands is a vicious route that chews up and spits out ships like a midday snack. The eastward currents are far stronger than even the fiercest rivers, slowing ships with even the strongest westward winds to a sluggish crawl. As the waters toss the boat about in an attempt to deny access to the Emerald Sea, crews are forced to try and navigate exceptionally narrow waterways that are lined with the steep, sharp cliff faces of towering islands that seem almost otherworldly, if not for the walls of rock that earlier greeted the ship to the New World. Exiting this treacherous stretch of the journey provided a relief I had never in my life felt before.

---

I inhale deeply, smelling the sweet, salty air around me as I step into the Crescent City for the very first time. The chorus of hammers and saws rings out in the shipyard, while fishermen hawk their morning catch in stands that line the path into the heart of the ward. Fields are visible in the distance to the east just beyond the banks of the river delta. The old Crescent Chapel sits right along these eastern banks, the blue roof glistening in the midday sun.
We begin to venture north along the strip of land known as the Shipyard - the 7th Ward according to my copy of The Official Field Guide to

The Shipyard Market by Collin Stephens via Bing CoPilot Image Creator

Dendralis. The bustling sounds of the dock slowly fade in our wake as we pass through the comfortable homes that were clearly built by ship builders - pine tar sealing the boards and naval motifs adorning nearly every house.
After crossing the bridge into Shacktown, most of my compatriots head north to Islip's venerated Tenfold Brewery. But my destination is westward.
I pause as I cross the bridge over the legendary Eldertide River. The backbone and lifeline of the Greenwood, it is difficult for my mind to comprehend that this river, which has seen so much and whispered to so many, lies here, right below my feet. This ancient highway of life lies before my eyes.

My time in Irontown is brief, but the famous red roofs atop every building burns into my memory. The air smells different here too. Cleaner, but not exactly quite like a blooming garden. More just absent the stench of industry.
At last, I cross the bridge into the Marketplace, the 3rd Ward. Arriving on the island's eastern shore, I am immediately greeted by a cathedral to an Old World god. The grand blue roofed building stands well above the skyline of the ward, flanked by a courtyard.

Here I pause, settling into a bench which faces a statue dedicated to Tevlin Arrowmark, founder of this great delta city. Gazing upon this sculpture fills me with a strange sense of disharmony. Here, a man revered in the Old World, captured in stonework worthy of gods and goddesses and high kings, stands before a populace that is far more diverse than anything he would have wished to see. This man sought to drain the unknown riches of the Emerald Lands to the Old World, not build a united society. And yet, his visage stands here, as if Crescent City in its modern form was built in his image. The contradiction befuddles me in a way that clearly the locals have already processed.
Again, I rise after spending more time than I'd planned contemplating the modern history of this place - how a river delta built up into the second largest city around the Emerald Sea - and make my way southwest to my final destination. Merchants and shoppers alike crowd

Arrowmark Square by Collin Stephens via Bing CoPilot Image Creator

the streets even into the late afternoon, voices cry out hawking wares while coins jingle as they land upon merchants' counters.
Squeezing my way through the bustling crowd, hugging my sack tightly to my back, I finally arrive at my destination - the Crescent City Inn. The aged yellow roof and worn wooden door handles perfectly replicate my dreams. Déjà vu hits me, as though the journals and letters I read in my homeland were not just compiled for the books I pored over as a young lad, but rather a gateway into this very moment.
With a warmth in my belly and an energy coursing through my veins, I push the door open and step inside the inn, entering a large tavern serving as the main hall to this place of respite. Tables are filled with all sorts of man-, elven-, and animalkind, as the air is filled with the sounds of chatter and scent of old wood and ale. Taking a seat at the corner of the bartop, I order myself an ale from the jolly half-orc barmaiden and set my pack at my feet, eager to finally begin my own exploration of the Land of Trees.

-- Delvin Faroe