It had been a day since Connor headed the directions of the bard, though he waited until morning before searching for this so called ruin of mystery or wonder. The mage knew that in all likelihood the most he would find was a dusty set of weathered bricks covered in moss and silence, a memory long abandoned. And though he was a man of logic, at heart he was an explorer, and thus subject to the need of seeing it for himself.
The venture led him south, braving against the arid Mediterranean wind, noting the landmarks the bard had given him, such as a dwarf faced rock formation, and a peculiar tree bent out of shape that the bard told him may have been a failed polymorph spell. At midday Connor rested, and ate a portion of his allotted rations under the shade before resuming his venture. The day passed onward, and again began to approach sunset which Connor found inconvenient. Not only would he have to stop for the night, but sleeping in the wild wasn’t nearly as glamorous as some made it out to be. To be frank, he didn’t enjoy nature that well.
At this point his temperament was becoming disgruntled, the bard had told him that he would find Ulantiar at the foot of a lake, but of course even though he’d followed the landmarks he was yet to find it. At this pace he would leave south Germania and entered Macedonia by the next day having never found this mythical ruin. However, as if to prank him in dramatic irony, no sooner had he thought this leaving a thicket a vast pool lay before him.
It was a lake at least two miles in diameter, and on the other side, Connor could see an aged structure, poised in defiance of time and the elements.