Chapter 1: Arrival
Up upon a mountainside just below the clouds the winds blew in strong gale that tore at snow and ice covered stone, warning of an impending storm. In the brief lulls between gusts the mountain would be silent, motionless. What few residents that called it home having long sought out shelter or move down to warmer lands below to leave the silent sentinel looming above its neighboring peaks in quiet vigil before the wind will return and stir up the snow that rested upon its peak. During one of these lulls a loud trill pierced the air, the cry of a mephos that echoed of the mountain as it drew near. Wings of luminescent white beat at the air as the wind picked up once more, scales upon tail, belly and long striped neck shine in the sunlight as fierce gusts threaten to flip it over and blow it away. The creature endured, breath coming hot from it short snout as short but powerful legs reach out and with claws digging into the ground it would prevail. As winds pulled at golden fur that ran along its sides and back the mephos would land and throw its head in the air, releasing another loud cry of triumph, a sound of victory against the fierce winds and of challenge to have them blow even harder.
The beast was not alone, upon its back was a saddle to which a rider was hunched upon, hugging the creature close for protection from the winds while they were in flight. Once it was certain that the mephos had a good claw hold upon mountainside the rider pulled at the straps that held themselves secured to the beast and grabbed their pack, sword and shield dismounting. The rider's figure was diminutive, especially when next to its mephos, a little over two and a half feet tall bundled up in furs and with hood of cloak freshly pulled over head, compared to the mephos's sixteen and a half from snout to tail, the mount's head nearly as big as they were as it swung around and nudged them with a snout. "I'll be fine, Zorya." Rider took off a glove, running hand along golden fur to try and calm the animal's concerns, staring into its ocean blue eyes. "You better go before the wind picks up." A huff and chirp given in response made them sigh and lightly smack hand upon snout. "Go. Don't make me push you off this cliff." Mephos turned, standing tall over the rider who just stared back at them before finally obeying and spread its wings wide as it leapt off the edge of the cliff, and not a moment too soon. With a roar the wind picked back up to cause cloak to whip and snap around tiny form as if the winds were trying to pull them off of the cliff and into the air after the beast. Footing was kept as they watched their mount fly off through unsteady air until they were out of sight.
Now alone, they turned toward the mountain and stared up at it, taking in the sight of the steep cliffs, ice with no way to tell what, if anything, was underneath, with clouds rolling in already thick enough that the mountain peak could no longer be seen. It was a foreboding sight, with no signs of anything of note being here, and yet here they were. Why? They did not know, there just had been a call, a desire to come this way that was nearly overwhelming and with no idea where their destination was until this mountain came within sight and now that they were here, they knew they had to climb. Like a memory long forgotten, details could not be brought to mind, what will be there? Where there was? They did not know, but they knew if they kept going, they will get there, and they will know it when they reach it. Taking one last deep breath they took the first step.
Wind tore at their form, pulling them away from the mountain one moment only to push them against stone and ice the next and making the climb even more difficult than imagined. Cloak had been removed and tied to pack, in this breeze it was more of a danger acting like a sail in the breeze to amplify the pull of the wind. The furs worn and a cloth cloth wrapped around head along with a bit of magic was able to ward off the worst of the wind-driven piercing cold as they continued on. Clear paths were few and it was not uncommon for them to be climbing sheer rock and ice in between. Some spots were truly perilous and they thought about the possibility of turning back many times, but it was far too late for that especially as clouds thicken and snow started to fall, if their motion could be called that being more sideways than down due to the ever increasing winds. With no sign of shelter within sight and the ever vague desire to push onward, the only thing they could do was to push on, step by step and finger hold by finger hold.
Eventually, it started to get dark and the climb was starting to take its toll. Arms were shaking as they pulled themselves up one last ledge, rolling onto their back on the flat ground above. How much further they had left to go was unknown but it was clear that they could not go too much further, not without a rest and a meal. They laid there a moment longer then forced themselves back up, in this weather laying down for too long was dangerous and should fatigue take them and lull them to sleep they would likely wake buried in in snow, if the cold did not claim them first. Their destination was just a little further now, that ever-constant feeling and unexplained knowledge telling them to push on. Not even ten feet from where they had been laying the ground would smooth out, not a leveling or wind-polished ice but marks of being worn down to the rock below, and stones laid out into what resembled steps. A path! A full, proper path made my intelligent hands and not steps of wild beasts that called this mountain home. Fatigue grew less, the leaden weight of pack that threatened to drag them down and never let them rise again lifted. Their spirit bolstered for there was now solid, unmistakable proof that wherever they were going was not a barren and empty peak but some place where people took the time and effort to actually craft a pathway up!
Their journey upon the path did not take much longer, ending at a large archway carved into the stone, small openings on either side appearing as if windows giving the appearance of an entryway and just within rested a heavy looking wooden door. The gateway over ten feet tall and half that wide, with thick iron bars and hinges to support it, built to last and looking well taken care of. The tiny figure strode into the entryway, out of the wind and looked up at the immense threshold with the feeling of awe for whoever had crafted this had to have spent many days in such a barren, isolated location to have carved the stone alone, the effort of finding the wood for the doorway and bringing it up here would not have been doable by one man. Finally, they took note of an emblem, carved and burned into the wood, twin axes with one crossed over the other. The emblem of the warrior turned god, Aden'Ver. The god that they paid homage to and served.
They found what they were looking for.
The problem now was how to get inside. The door was large enough for an ogre to get through, the latch itself would be chest-height for a tall human, well out of their reach. However if they stood on their pack, with sheathed sword in hand they could reach it and manipulate it just enough to get it open. With a hop they could grab onto the great iron ring that served as a handle and would put their feet upon the archway next to the barrier. Muscles would strain and tiny form would lift for the door was even heavier than it looked, it would not be until they were practically standing sideways, lifting with all their might did hinges oiled by ice and snow screech in protest and begin to move, allowing the door to slowly rotate and open. It took just about the last of their strength to get the portal opened just enough for them and their pack to squeeze through before it would suddenly close behind them with a heavy thud.
Before them was a large circular room, furs and skins of different beasts hung from the wall as well as many weapons of different kinds. Upon the opposing wall was another door, and on the left and right there were archways leading into other rooms they could not see. Within the middle was a large fire that offered warmth and illumination, its smoke curling up toward the domed roof and out through small openings. A large, grand structure built into the mountain but what demanded their attention was the presence of four figures before the flames standing there as if expecting them.
The one in front was an immense bull of a man, towering at least six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and blunt features. If someone were to carve from stone what they believed would be the peak of raw human strength and power, this man would be it. Thick, corded muscles ran down his arms and his bare chest and abdomen looked almost chiseled as pronounced as his muscles were. While thick trousers and heavy boots covered his legs they were thick enough to leave little doubt they were just as powerful as the rest of him. Black hair allowed to grow past his shoulders framed face that was square of jaw and broad in features, his hands resting upon the end of a large two-handed axe, the head upon the floor between his feet. To his right was another man over about a full head shorter but no less broad, green eyes twinkling in amusement, a contrast to the first's stern blue-eyed gaze, his face almost hidden underneath fiery red hair and great beard that reached down to his almost as great belly. He was dressed in a thick red tunic and grey trousers, with stubby fingers of his hands resting on a broad belt where a well-used mace hung from.
To both of their lefts stood the most stunning figure of all, a woman that loomed over them both. Mane of brown hair thick and coarse, furry ears sticking off the top of her head had a slightly rounded appearance to them and her face, while human, had faint animalistic features that gave her a feral, savage look that contrasted with the intelligence that showed in her blue eyes, like the gaze of a wolf. Her body was lean and fit, with fur running along her back and down arms, long tail motionless except for the faint curling and uncurling not unlike that of a wildcat about to pounce upon its prey. She simply wore a strip of leather upon her chest and around her hips and she had a spear in hand.
"You are either foolish or brave to make your way up here, child." Said the man in the lead, bringing a chuckle out of the portly one.
"Especially with how they made it up here. Though something tells me that is no mere child under all those furs." He would shake his head and stroke his beard, turning his gaze to the giant woman next to them. "What do you think, Izaela?"
Izaela would step forward then, a faint rumble in her voice as she spoke "I think they should reveal themselves and tell us why we should not throw them down the mountain and be rid of them."
Their predicament clear, the tiny figure removed the scarf that covered head and face, a shake of head set strands of jaw-length black hair straight and large eyes of brown upon face feminine curves would look up at them. "I am Robyn Goodfellow... High Priestess of Aden'Ver. I am here because... I believe he sent me here." Her uncertainty showed, the visions she had and the draw to come here she suspected was from the warrior god, especially upon finding his emblem upon the door here, but she knew of little else at the moment. The three would stare at her, the silence causing her to add, "And who might you three be?"
"We are The Warriors Four." The voice from behind making her spin around in surprise, an elf, his pointed ears and angular features leaving no doubt, dressed in black with sword and long dagger at his hips stood between her and the doorway. "Those chosen and trained by the original companions of Aden'Ver. Tiny 'priestess'. If you are who you say you are, then prove yourself, now." The sound of steel on stone made her turn around once more and eyes would widen in shock. There was the first man, walking quickly toward her, raising his axe.