Its story
A heavy, sturdy rope woven from tough gray-gold fibers that smell faintly of rain-wet stone. Small brass markers stamped with different route symbols are threaded through its length, and smooth dark-metal caps seal the ends, polished bright where many hands have gripped them. When laid out, it gives a quiet, taut hum, like a cable taking weight in the wind. It begins 50 feet long and grows to 100 feet when its second stage awakens.
Lore
In Anemora, a route is more than a line across a map. It is a promise that someone can cross, and that someone will help them do so. The Rope I Carried is remembered wherever a dangerous passage became a road shared by many.
History
The rope has passed from hand to hand along precarious roads and hoist lines. It is said to have awakened when its bearer helped reopen a route that had been closed to ordinary travelers. In later years, it lengthened after its bearer spent a month mapping and securing a safe path through a lethal or inaccessible region below.