The Distant Joke
The road to the Ashen Vale was not merely a path but a wound in the earth, a jagged scar of mud and broken stone that bled rainwater into the roots of the ancient pines. You walked it with the heavy, rhythmic gait of a man who has forgotten how to carry anything lighter than his own reputation, your boots caked in the thick, sucking clay of the borderlands. The air here tasted of iron and old...
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