The Ledge
After the choking, endless gloom of the Tidal Passage, this new area is an immediate delight. I survey my surroundings through deeply-squinted eyes, my pupils still nearly blind from the dazzling sun. A few paces away lies the edge of a sheer cliff, and standing upon it, I close my eyes completely and breathe in the brisk sea air. Of course, this is Wraeclast, and the serenity is fleeting. A little further up the beach I catch a quick glance of movement out of the corner of my eye. A little ripple in the shadows of the rock wall to the North. A few moments later I see it again, and there is no mistaking it: something is stalking me. The hackles on my neck rise, and my heart beats hard in my chest, awaiting the inevitable. When the attack comes, it is from all sides, in the form of a barrage of razor sharp stones. The missiles tear skin from my face and arms, causing me to cry out in pain and alarm.
The commotion brings new enemies upon me, dashing down across the sand with desperate speed. They are definitely men, though horribly gaunt and dressed in decrepit rags. The new arrivals keep their distance from the creatures that assail me, likely waiting to pick the scraps once I'm dead. I have no plans to please them.
I turn my attention to the spitters, clearly a more lethal breed than the ones from the beaches. These creatures are swifter, bigger, and they aren't blasting me with mere bits of annoying sand. The ground is littered with fragments of jagged rock wall, which provides them with perfect ammunition. Shielding my eyes from the assault, I charge at the nearest spitter, and I cleave it in half with one crushing blow. Its companions scatter in every direction, chitinous legs clattering and scraping on the stones. They move quickly, but I'm faster, and I'm wielding cold sharp steel. As I finish off the spitters, I sense the scavengers closing in on me, perhaps realizing that their window of opportunity for easy prey is passing.
Regardless of their superior numbers, the scavengers are untrained starving savages, falling before me like wheat before a thresher. In a few short moments the sand is stained with their blood, and I'm wiping my blade clean on the nearest eviscerated body. I gather my things and continue along the ledge, keeping a safe distance from the precipice. Far down below, the seething ocean booms and thunders against the rocks. As I progress, I notice the terrain sloping upward slightly. There is some sort of mountain ahead, mostly shrouded in a swirling mist of fog. The mists begin to thicken around me, and a distinct chill sets in. Despite the quick pace of my walking, I find myself shivering, dreading what lies ahead.
I hear them a little before I see them, and I can scarcely believe my eyes. A small army of walking skeletons blocks the path up ahead! They regard me with empty eye sockets, their jawbones clacking and clicking. They descend as one upon me without hesitation. I raise my sword to meet their charge, throwing myself among them with a fury. I swing my weapon in a blur, parrying, dodging and slashing at enemy after enemy. I do some damage here and there, shearing off an arm, shattering a shoulder. But by and large, my attacks are ineffective, and my enemies begin to swarm me, their bony faces appearing to mock my token resistance. In desperation, I fumble in my bags, and bring up a heavy one-handed mace. I sense a fright in my foes as I raise it aloft, and my first blow shatters the closest skeleton into splinters. Having discovered their vulnerability by accident, I need only a few moments to pulverize my remaining foes, hammering their bones into dust just to be sure.
I continue along the ledge, which is rising steadily upward now, and a short time later, I arrive at the foot of a steep winding trail, worn into the mountain side. The path twists and turns high above me into the clouds, I have no choice but to head upward.