Fable - Ask Path To Venegence

[Mountainwanderer]

The journey from the Astenvale Monastery to the Spine, the land of his forebears and the place he had once called home, was an arduous one. The woods at the base of his rugged homelands were full of Orchish tribes, and only few of these were welcoming to a Goliath such as he.
Taking care of the paths he chose, and keeping to areas with vegetation so dense and trees so ancient that even his large frame could be hidden by them, he had made it through unaccosted. As much as he relished the fight, he was no fool, and he knew these tribes would be more than a match for him alone. Besides which, he couldn't help but be distracted by the thought of home, or the feeling of having a home.
Mountainwanderer had always been nomadic, even more so than is common for his people. Never content with staying in one place he was always out travelling the world and seeing what battles he could have there. It's what caused him to seek out his lifestyle as a mercenary in the first place, the promise of travel, and of enemies to conquer.

Yet now, things were different, his wanderlust had abated and he could not ignore the insatiable urge to return. He thought of the last job he had taken, and the artefact he had to recover from atop a mountain, far away. Originally he had thought that it was the sight of the mountains themselves, the feel of the cold air as he stood at the summit, that had led to his homeward trek but after thinking of it, perhaps that was not the case. He had crossed mountains many times since he had left and while he appreciated their beauty more than some of the comrades he had travelled with, none, not even the most spectacular, had caused such feelings to stir as they stirred now. Perhaps it was the artefact that had caused it? He had thought it just another useless trinket; a crutch that other species are so want to have and to need, and had barely considered its purpose, however perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps….

He was snapped out of contemplatory state by the sound of a twig snapping in the undergrowth, somewhere out ahead. He stopped, dead still, and listened. Had he been discovered? He tightened his grip on the handle of his axe and looked around, scanning for any indication of life and hostility among the foliage. After a long moment, he concluded all was clear and that the source of the sound had been nothing but an animal. He continued to make his way forward, now careful not to let his mind wander when his body ought to be doing so.

After reaching the base of the mountains, he began his ascent. Off the tracks as he was, he took his directional cues from subtle differences in the rocks, the shapes of the crevice, and the feel of the air. His journey took several days, climbing near vertical cliffs and spending time sleeping on ridges above sheer drops to the valleys below. Eventually, Mountainwanderer began to enter the area that his tribe called their home.

Immediately, he sensed something was wrong and drawing his axe, almost on instinct, he approached a camp in the distance. The smell of blood seemed to thicken as the air seemed to thin, and the air that remained was stale, almost choking him as its mustiness forced its way through his lungs. As he drew closer to the camp, he saw that it had been raided. Tents lay flattened and items were strewn carelessly about the place. The twisted and bloody remains of his kin, left where they fell, weapon still to hand, assailed his senses and attacked his sensibilities. Among them he saw his parents, both proud warriors, strong and fearless, now lying lifeless among the ruins of the camp. Upon seeing them he sank to his knees, his legs withering beneath him, and let out a howl, visceral and guttural, one of pure rage and grief, as if to let the gods themself know that warriors now resided among them. The scream echoed and reverberated across the great peaks, their great height carrying it farther and farther, and the sound carried on long after he had ceased to make it, diminishing with every passing second.

Suddenly, a movement. Jumping back to his feet, axe at the ready, he stood ready to face down whoever had done this, whether he was destined to win or not mattered little to him now. Mountainwanderer would avenge his tribe or die alongside them. Looking around with ferocity, he could see no enemy, none who could dare stand up to the might of a goliath.

More movement, this time within his line of sight, what he had thought was a body of the slain was a survivor, bloodied and clinging to life. He ran over and knelt by the broken form of his tribesman and with a barely constrained rage spat the words.

“Who did this?”

No reply was forthcoming, but the stricken looked at him, and in his eyes Mountainwanderer saw something he had never seen in the eyes of his kin, fear. Again he asked the question, louder this time.

“WHO!”

The stricken did not speak, instead he handed him a broken off talisman and placed it heavily in his hand. A metal disk and on it was a symbol of a bear on its hind legs with a sword in its belly. Closing his great hands upon it. He clasped it so tight that blood began to seep through his fingers, steam emanating off it in the frigid mountain air. He turned to again speak to the fallen warrior, seeing his life slip away before him. With his spare hand he grasped the warrior's weapon hand, and looked upon him with white hot intensity.

“I shall avenge you,” Mountainwanderer spoke now in a hushed tone, spitting words through gritted teeth. “I shall avenge you all,”

With that the last vestiges of life left his tribeman, and his hand sunk back to the ground, limp and lifeless. After what was just a moment, but what felt like an age to him, Mountainwanderer rose to his feet. Moving to where his parents now lay, he took their weapons for his own, feeling an attachment to them he had never felt to any weapon he had slain with before, and purposely strode back down the mountain to seek those responsible.

 

[Theolonious Montbank]

Chill winds carried wayward currents, frost formed at wingtip and weapon. The Spine spanned below, the slaughter beneath the knight Theolonious not yet spied. Scouting the Spine was a duty deserved for this knight Montbank. This was no lark or venture of freedom, to fly above the formation. This was a duty, but a welcome one.

His ears pricked as it heard the mourning of Mountwanderer and it chilled Montbank more than the frozen winds ever could. He dipped, lower, lower, below the cloud to see the concerned. The scene revealed itself as the air carried the cry of anguish, onwards, outwards, up and into the heavens. The winged knight's eyes peered, sharp to the pain punctuating so perfectly. This tragedy revealed was the odious duty that he dared not omit. He settled his wings to swoop down and make landing.

The butchery that the goliath was betwixt was remorseless, Montbank saw. He spread his white wings and beat them silently as to prevent himself clashing with the scene that had to be investigated. He landed with grace and respect to the solemn scene.

Gathering himself with proper dignity and shuffling his wings into proper shape, he saw Mountainwanderer in front of him, mourning, a visage of anguish, a warrior who no doubt needed aid in this moment.

Montbank spoke up over the howling wind.

“Goliath, I heard you on the wind. I am of the Knights of Anathaeum, warrior true. You're not alone in wanting answers. It's my duty to report such things, and my duty of my superiors to listen to such a need of justice. This event shall be answered. Do you know who did this? I fly to report back once I know what I can. I shall do all I can to help you, and the memory of your people.”

Mountainwanderer

 

[Mountainwanderer]

Mountainwanderer had begun his long march back down the mountain, his mind consumed by rage and pain. Gone was the affable warrior who was always on the cusp of a raucous laugh. Now existed only a shell, spurred on only by a need for justice; a need for revenge.

As he continued on he was stopped by a voice calling to him from behind. Turning quickly he prepared to face down whoever it may be, at first thinking it was one of those who had slaughtered his people coming back to finish the job, but upon seeing the source of the voice and processing their words he relaxed the grip he held tightly on his fathers axe.

The figure had identified themselves as of the Knights of Athenaeum and he stood upon the slopes of Mountainwanderers forebears armour glistening in the sun. Noticing the graceful wings, snowy white like the top of the highest peaks, Mountainwanderer put together how he had appeared quite so suddenly.

“I do not know who did this, all I know is one of them used this symbol” he replied to Montbanks' inquiry, while passing over the symbol for him to have a look at. “Have you seen this before, or know anyone who might have?”

A pause, while Mountainwanderer considered his next words carefully. After a moment he spoke.

“If your order of noble nights are able to assist me in my quest for justice, in whatever form, I shall welcome this,”

Theolonious Montbank

 

[Theolonious Montbank]

Montbank's extended a hand to receive the symbol which was absorbed by orange eyes with a gaze reserved for prey. The wind howled as the memory was etched upon. He turned over the medallion over in his clawed hands twice, as if feel for the weight of the thing, but in truth was cementing the image within his mind so he might reveal it to his superiors. A gift of association in a mind with strong visualisation. A vital skill for a scout. If it were not for such a vision he might not have found the scene as he did between the visual noise of the weather.

“Understood,” Montbank said and understood his own place in the hierarchy of decisions at this moment as the wind did pluck at his wings. Providing medical care and in combat decisions was a place of swift actions and responses to changing circumstances. But this was representing the mindset and approach of the knightly order to a situation in the field. Here, one of the giant peoples, in whatever form it lived in honourable state, was beset by tragedy. And by the heaving of the firm boots, the resolution within Mountainwanderer's tone and action, and the utter devastation rendered to the people's of the Spine, Montbank had a duty to report, and a duty to extend the goodly intent that the order resembled.

But practicalities were abound. Montbank had little bedside manner in the medical field but he had intent respect for the proper checks towards official lines of communication between ranks, including outsiders. As one so aerial and expanding in their explorations, Montbank had been briefed on how to precisely offer communication of help without guaranteeing immediate reinforcement. Properly communicating the potential and practical information could make the difference between hope and despair, and mistakes avoided for parties to know the truth of things before drawing a sword recklessly.

Montbank adjusted his armour and heightened his swordbelt so that it was more flush against his hip, instead of lurking within hand reach, as was demanded by proper air to ground introduction and stance, Montbank knew. He made his wings extend to give hint that he was to shoot away at any given moment. He offered an official register, clear, methodical, to Mountainwanderer.

“I'll do my best to explain the situation to those who have eyes to cast resources and judgement. Take this,” Montbank said and leaned over. He returned the symbol and gave Mountainwanderer a small item of bone with tiny holes carved into the device. A whistle.

“Silently that beacon will return my own silent beck and call. It'll allow us to find you again. I'll travel swiftly as the justice that shall be delivered to you, should all be correct,” Montbank said, and stepped back, and waited.

The howling wind grumbled, and then raised complaint in full force. White feathers prickled, and then upwind was taken full advantage of. With raised wings and a final nod to his company, Montbank's head and body shot up as the wings were filled with vital energy to the cause of flight. Propelling himself up, he twisted and began to beat in the current to drive upwards, set to the task. Soon he would fade from view, to be absorbed by the frost winds that wreathed the spine and gave power in the system of twisting winds to Montbank's return to the Knights of Anathaeum.

***

Wings performed their task.

A report was delivered, with itching of the symbol provided to those concerned. Montbank would lead the way back, providing detail on the direction, and location by use of the flute system that had been developed for this express purpose. Montbank's sense of hearing could pick up the frequency, a development that had only been possible through the understanding of arcane frequency and vibration that Syr Marden possessed.

Healing items were garnered, but Montbank felt as he gathered his belongings, as he prepared to guide his comrades in co-ordination to the individual that they would endeavour to help. He donned a light medical belt with a few healing provisions, not his usual fitted jacket to the purpose of providing battlefield medicine in full measure, but his lightened plate was quickly assembled by quick, drilled and precise routine. The feeling of being back in the armour gave him confidence, and a brisk appreciation of a sword fight yet to come. In the time that had taken for him to gather his apparel, and walking to the meeting spot of mission driven, a decision had been made by the leadership to who he swore to obey and fight beside in equal measure. A response had been offered. And a response would be delivered.

His comrades Montbank lead in direction, but not in command.

The scene displayed for precise eyes had been spoken of, given detail and the scale of the death delivered. Those who set out to answer this most grave devastation understood the symbol that was carried by those who perpetrated the deed. Montbank roamed in the cloudspace once the air grew cold and mountainous as they travelled so that he might pin point the location of Mountainwanderer, and introduce themselves to what progress he had made on foot to his cause, if nothing else by distance closed to the foe.

Penetrating vision, acute hearing and well understood paths of the spine divided in quick measure the space between them, guiding those knights who were galvanised to the scene. Wings did serve, and the Order did make approach in those gathered to the cause of Mountainwanderer on foot.

“He's just uphead,” Montbank said, sequestrating the whistle that would now vibrate and point in it's companion's counterpart. He looked to his comrades as he took his place with them on foot. A response had been provided in the form of...

 

[Mountainwanderer]

Mountainwanderer stood for a moment, watching as Montbank flew away and becoming little more than a spec in the sky. One alone he found himself asking himself the same question. The question was such a fundamental one, coming before the why or the how, the question of who did this.

Regardless of whether he had the assistance of the noble knights or whether he walked this path alone he would find an answer to this question. His days of drifting were over and his new purpose was clear. Taking a moment to take stock of his surroundings, lest he get lost in his location as well as his mind, he noticed he was approaching a gully which was surrounded by high steep faces of vertical rock. Remembering he was waiting for company he made his way to a flattened rock and perched on it; all the while asking himself the same burning question. Who did this?

As he sat turning over this question in his mind, the passage of time was lost to him and it was so that all the Ages of this world could have passed over his head unnoticed. Staying in this state he was only snapped back to reality by the sound of those approaching. Looking up to the source of the sound he saw a group of knights making their way towards them and that Montbank was among them. Rising up to his feet he awaited their arrival, eager to hear of their intent.

Theolonious Montbank

 

[Syr Jinhae]

"Welcome news at last," Jin said, relieved. There was no irritation in his tone, but the trek had no been easy. Fortunately Syr Montbank was guiding them, saving the other knights further trouble. He looked to the other man whose appearance might've raise questions elsewhere but Jin merely saw the face of a brother. A tired one at that. "You holding up ok, Theo?" the Sworn asked of his peer. Jin wasn't much for formality unless the situation called for it. He knew the other knight had traveled great distances as of late, fatigue was bound to set in.

Jin was experiencing a measure of exhaustion himself. A symptom of remaining constantly alert as they delved deeper into the mountains. The story of slaughter had not been taken lightly. Who could say whether the perpetrators were still lying in wait somewhere? Jin wasn't overly fond of being ambushed; he usually set the traps.

He looked to his immediate surroundings before turning his focus inwards. Ripples of frigid magik pulsed outward, with Jin as the epicenter. Those around him may have noticed a momentary icy touch but little beyond that. An azure glow held his eyes for a moment before dulling. "I don't sense any presences beyond the one who waits ahead." Jin possessed an innate wariness that bordered on paranoia. A distrust of everyone and everything, those of the Order being the sole exception. Enemies of the Knight's Anathaeum, old and new, had begun to show themselves. His mind couldn't help but wonder if they had been purposely lured to a remote location. Jin pushed dire thoughts aside. Greetings still needed to be made after all.

 

[Helena]

"Then we press on," Helena affirmed and her muddied boots tread forward, the cold mountain air nipping at what little of her skin was left exposed beneath her fur-lined-cloak, gravel and rock crunching underfoot in steady march.

It had been kismet that she had taken to ranging some days prior. Caught the flash of white wings overhead, and called out to the knight she knew would hear a wyld song in his avian ears. She was out so far from the Monastery, only because she had made sure Selene understood her own needs. The vigils needed keeping, even in the darkest of times. Captain that she was, she had chosen the path of Knight for her own reasons. Sworn the Vows for those she found within their order.

There was argument. Not from Selene, but from others. Those respected in the order. Knights who had seen her grow. Had cast her name into the Golden Flame of Dawn. Those she sought for council and tutelage. Stay close. Their voices said. You are yet young, with too much for our Order to lose. They reminded her. But what were they in response to the mountain's cold howl?

Her kin by oath, she reminded herself. Her kin by deed and all the blood spilt between them.

In the near distance, there skulked a grey-furred mass. A wolf, the color of bare mountain rock, and dark winter clouds. Larger than most, save those that prowled those places still untouched by those un-wyld. It followed the Knights in their ascent, golden eyes affixed.

Syr Jinhae Mountainwanderer Theolonious Montbank

 

[Mountainwanderer]

Mountainwanderer had sat awaiting the arrival of the honourable members of the knightly order still as the stone that he was raised upon. His mind had turned from questions of who to wondering if they would assist him. From the moment he had seen the massacre he had pledged himself to undertake the rite of revengement, an ancient Goliath custom and one of the few cultural bonds that tied his peoples together. Being a nomadic people with little love or time for the cultural oddities and attachment to trinkets, they had developed a deeply ingrained honour system in order to maintain what fragile bonds they held between them and to halt the bloody and persistent tribal conflict that had once plagued his peoples.

As part of this rite he would seek to find others of a like mind and with a dutiful sense of honour to recruit to his cause, be this contribution large or small. This was no job for a band of mercenaries, who swore allegiance at the beck of a coin and whose loyalties could be swayed by larger pockets although he conceded he may yet find use for such a band. He had in his years among their ranks met those with whom he could trust with such a task after all.

Hearing the sound of approaching footfalls, he stood to meet those he waited for. Once they got closer he spoke, his voice subdued, but calmer then it had been.

“Thank you for coming so swiftly,”

Syr Jinhae Theolonious Montbank Helena

 

[Theolonious Montbank]

Montbank nodded at the question Syr Jinhae asked. “Holding up well enough, these winds are a spot challenging to fight against though, but nothing that can't be handled with proper vector and respect for the course the winds want to drag towards,” Montbank said. Operating alone was a freedom unto itself, to fly in the skies and act under one's own initiative. But when one was guiding ground troops, one had to be cautious to lose the party that one was directing. The mountains had been treacherous, and Montbank couldn't help but think of the sort of person that might call such a place home. To face such winds, such updrafts that chilled the bone. Montbank had relied upon some small feats of magic to keep himself warm in such an environment. That a snifter of brandy that he carried.

His orange eyes gazed upon the solitary figure who had so recently lost his companions.

Mountainwanderer. Such a desolate place of howling winds must have been a difficult place to be raised. And now you're all alone.

Well, not quite so alone now.

“Thanks for asking,” Montbank said genuinely, although he made sure not to sound too affectatious about it for fear of sounding as if the question was long overdue.

He approached the figure and raised his hand to signal approach. He didn't raise his voice. Silence was an underappreciated commodity, and Montbank had considered in his travel that raising one's voice might threaten an avalanche to downfall somewhere. Perish the thought that someone else might find their doom for a simple greeting. Better to err on the side of caution, Montbank thought.

He extended his hands towards his companions.

“Assistance, as promised. This is Captain Helena, and Syr Jinhae. Well suited to the cause you drive.”

He ruffled his feathers as the winds picked up and his taloned feet dug into the snow as to not be picked up from the updraft that had just struck. He tucked his wings close as not to encourage unwanted flight. He wore armour, true, but he still was built to be in the sky as a home, such as Mountainwanderer was built and raised to exist in this frigid environment.

“My eyes couldn't spy much on my circling to find you again, the winds carry much snow and mist about them. Should the winds die down I can scout ahead of where you might direct so that we might find those responsible for, well. Yes. Have you found anything further in the time we took to get to you? Do we have a heading in which to travel? And, I must ask. What think of you on the weather. Not my typical climate of operations. Despite what my appearance may suggest.”

Syr Jinhae Helena Mountainwanderer

 

[Helena]

Helena bowed her head to Mountainwanderer in response to his thanks, and listened to Syr Montbank inquire as to the weather conditions, as well as any new findings that may lead them closer to those responsible for the atrocity. She bowed her head in agreement.

Words would waste seconds, and they were already days behind whoever had done this.

The cold wind's howl added its report.

Helena looked to Mountainwanderer. "We have traveled far, and Syr Montbank farther and faster still," she bowed her head to the proud warrior. "We will aid you in your pursuit for justice, but it would do us well to find shelter first, give tired wings and tired legs a moments rest, and our minds a moment more to prepare for the path before us now,"

Syr Jinhae Theolonious Montbank Mountainwanderer

 

[Osa]

Within the winding tunnels that connected the open frozen canopy of sky to the deep heart of the mountain stone was a twisting beast of gold that urged itself deeper through the passages. The wind howled and reverberated through the cold stone, and the scaled creature did wind and work it's wingless pursuit of flight to serve this labyrinthian complex. If it were a thing clinging to the vitality of life instead of the reinforcement of the magic of undeath, it would find this method of reaching it's destination inhospitable, cold, derelict of sustenance or comfort. But this route had the value of being discreet, hidden, and all together impossible for most but the most determined spelunkers to pursue. And would render Osa, this gold dragon, all the most mysterious in his entrance.

He enjoyed the fact that those who followed and obeyed him did not know when he might arrive from the height of the place he presently called his base of operations, the cornerstone of present schemes and desires to be appreciated at the utmost of his ego. But before that arrival came the struggle to enter this way.

The gold dragon twisted and snapped it crafty application of it's small stature to make progress through the acute angles that this formation had made, half blasted in place by previous efforts of the dragon to drive it's progress to reach the depth of the mountain. This was not the only way in to the place he sought. Indeed, if that were so, this dragon would have no purpose for such a place, for his humanoid worshippers, subordinates and seekers of succour and blessings would not be able to approach the golden idols he had fashioned in his likeness for their appeals. The mountain had a great mouth that would allow the gold dragon a far more dignified entrance than this coiling, twisting, struggling entrance as it so indulged in, but such would remove the mystique of his approach.

And approach Osa did, after some twenty minutes of twisting through the mountain. All the while Osa's thoughts did think of plots, schemes, a thousand fold and pursued for the devilment of it. The circlet would have it's sustenance from such machinations and fashioned the fires of hate within Osa to his willful ends. But the twisting had reached it's end, and Osa's head writhed out of a small hole in the roof of the cave he found himself looking down upon. A place illuminated in small part by hearths set into the wall, where humanoids did hunch and gather.

Osa, as tradition, looked long upon his own depictions. Set in gold, there were three statues of his own creation of his likeness. They glittered in the low light of the hearths, and Osa saw with appreciation that there were further dedications granted unto him.

Osa lurked in the ceiling for a moment, before clambering out with claw silently and floating in the darkness above them.

He announced his presence to his followers with a blast of light from his maw, both frightening in it's suddenness and glorious in it's brilliance. Osa loomed as he floated winglessly in the cavern roofspace.

“It is I, Osa! Behold, the glory that is Osa!”

A series of cheers and whoops came from the humanoids, who turned their backs to the fires and instead basked in a far more brilliant light. Another blast of radiant light as Osa did demonstrate his power.

“Osa will see your dedications and pass judgements!”

Osa coiled down with all the grace of a coiling snake about it's prey as it did approach each golden statue in turn. The followers approached in both fear and admiration, and awaited address.

The yellow eyes of Osa did glow fierce and with pleasure at the sight of collected spoils.

“You slayed those foul goliaths! Good, excellent! Professionals like I in the cause of improving this realm. You laid down the coins, as per your custom?”

A series of nods and explanations.

Osa beared teeth in a wicked smile and continued on.

“Now lay down your coins found from the Goliaths to me, and all manner of spoils I do demand from the cleansing of the earth of your inferiors, lay down your dedications to your benefactor of most beatific boons!”

A shower of coins did land around Osa as he did coil it's body in a symbol of infinity within the deep stone of the mountain, entrancing and hypnotising this band of sorry souls that found itself worshiping such an insidious dragon as Osa.

Mountainwanderer Helena Syr Jinhae

 

[Mountainwanderer]

Mountainwanderer looked around at the earnest faces of those who had come to his aid and, despite the chaos all around him, felt buoyed in his quest for vengeance. Taking a moment to steel himself he stepped toward Montbank and spoke to him in a low voice.

“This weather is frequent, we stay because few can handle it but us,” he took a moment to look around “or so we thought..”

He presented the coin forward to the knight and continued.

“This is all I found of those who did this, at first I thought it just a coin with an inscription of a House or cult symbol, but there's some magic upon it,”

He held it aloft, and spun the coin three times. The symbol of the bear disappeared, momentarily replaced by a gold dragon. The dragon burned brightly and distinctly for less than a minute, before returning to the previous symbol.

“Do any of you have any ideas what this could mean? I don't know much about dragons, i've never seen enough coin to make it worth my business knowing,”

Theolonious Montbank Helena Syr Jinhae

 

[Syr Jinhae]

Jin allowed for the others to make the introductions. Personable as he was, a measure of tact was better in these situations. A somber pallor had set upon the area and left little room for levity. The sworn simply nodded his head towards the wanderer but otherwise kept himself to the perimeter. There was an eeriness that the knight could not completely shake. Jin could not give form or word to his instinct, but instead remained vigilant.

Wind threatened to carry the others' words beyond his ears, Jin returned a step closer. There was certainly a worry about losing the trail of the perpetrators and yet tired legs did not make for good pursuit. Typically Theo would have no doubt set off to scout a location for them to make camp. The other knight was clearly knackered and a local was counted among them.

The sworn was about to turn his attention back to the mountains when the stranger presented the strange coin. Jin found himself transfixed by the gold object, eyes widening slightly as it spun. "The illusory magik cast on this coin is so-" He struggled to find the right word. "natural."

He looked to their surroundings once more. "Can't say who or what was responsible, but they are not to be underestimated."

Mountainwanderer Helena Theolonious Montbank