Fate - First Reply Show Me What's Beyond the Sky

[Vayden]

Upon the chilly slopes of the spine stood a large dark draconian. Vayden stared into the cool midday sky his gaze filled with fire as his mind wrestled with existential problems. The loss of everything he once thought crucial for life had caused him to question a lot of his beliefs. These particular questions had been spurred on by the beauty of the sky. Ever since he could first take wing it had always caught his imagination. How far did the horizon stretch? Could you fly forever into the blue or starlit black? To answer these innocent questions he had been told the story of the ascendant Draco, father of She Who Slumbers. The elders had said it was Draco’s eyes that glinted far off in the heavens as the stars. Those were Draco’s skies far above and to intrude upon them was to incur his wrath. But how much of this lore could even be trusted? Surely the elders had never even tried to fly as high as they could. Even most of the young and fit redeemers would have called him cracked in the head if he had ever suggested trying. But what if the ascendant Draco was just another lie? If the god of all dragons truly valued honor why had he let one of his honor bound suffer so? Vayden had never been less than completely dedicated to his family and clan. Now it was all gone and he was a mountain hermit, damn it. Maybe he would just spit in those eyes. Draco deserved no less for the misfortune it allowed.

With a sudden movement Vayden tore his scriptor from its holster and pulled it across his left palm. Blood began to well on the arcane tool’s pummel and the draconian launched himself into the air with a powerful jumping flap. He took air under his sore wings in huge greedy pulls trying to climb as high he could. Sure the air would get thinner and colder the higher he went but with his magic he could command the air to carry him when it would normally fail. The man’s breathing was becoming labored after a time and he was only a few hundred meters above the mountains below. This high the wind sometimes became ruff and turbulent. Luckily having only the desire to rise higher and higher meant he could use the wind to his benefit. It wouldn’t help much but it was a little easier at his maximum incline than flying against it would be. Up and up and up he flew. When the air began to make flapping almost ineffective Vayden spread his wings into a gliding stance and focused his mind upon the air. Grasping his scriptor tightly he reached through it with his mind until the aura of the air shimmered faintly in his blood sight. It was hard to focus. The air was bitterly cold now and each breath seemed to offer less relief to his aching muscles and burning lungs. Despite it all he managed to channel air up into his wings. The wind was merciless under the compulsion of his blood and buffeted him in blasts as he spent more and more blood to power each script.

With a fluid motion the mage drew his scriptor across his left forearm so more blood would flow to the well every second. This was costing more power than he had anticipated. Blast after blast he was forced higher into yet colder and thinner air. Each blast bruised his abused wings and offered a small gasp of icy cold air for breathing. Two more cuts were opened before the flight’s end: one on his right forearm and a another on his right palm.

Eventually Vayden began to stall. His head spun from what was no doubt part blood loss and what felt like part suffocation. Were those the eyes of Draco faintly behind the bright blue? Or were those just stars dancing in his eyes as the world began to fade and spin? Despite his effort to see what lay beyond Vayden wasn’t sure as he finally slipped into unconsciousness. His wings relaxed and lost their shape causing the male’s body to turn until his back was facing the ground far below. From afar his wings likely made him seem somewhat tear drop shaped as they fell open around his plummeting body. Toward the Spine he fell faster and faster until he reached his terminal velocity. Consciousness poked at the draconian’s mind aided by the roaring wind and thicker, warmer air but the rocks below were approaching fast…

 

[Astrid]

The ground below her was solid. Snow. Ice. Mountain rock. Astrid could recognize The Spine. She grew up here. Of course, she couldn't tell how far she was from Belgarth. But she craved it. Falling to her hands and knees, she let out a pained scream. The ice felt like home but all she could think of was the hollow space the Seven had kept her in. She saw Nocre chained to the walls, surrounded by the cloaked figures of self-proclaimed gods. They had banished her. The last thing she remembered was reaching for Nocre, hand outstretched toward his horned face, before the ground vanished beneath her.

The wind of The Spine whipped past her cheeks and tangled in her hair. Her tears stuck to her cheeks as they froze. She sobbed, gripped at her chest. She struggled to breath evenly.

"Okay," Astrid told herself, "Okay."

She looked around, grabbing the snow. Her shortsword was a short ways from her. It must have fallen from her grasp when she'd been banished. She re-sheathed it. Slowly, she dabbed at her cheeks and stood up. The snow had seeped through her pants. She didn't mind it so much. It was familiar. The first familiar thing she'd felt in days.

Astrid looked up. There was a zipping. A sharp sound in the air. A tear drop in the sky. Growing. Quickly.

 

[Vayden]

OoC: Detailed list of injures can be found on Vayden's Profile.

At first sensation years of flight training kicked in. Vayden rolled by flexing his wings and moving out his arms and legs. This would also slow him some. Due to how hard he had been squeezing his scriptor during the accent it had stuck around in his now cramped claw. What blood he had welled in the tool now ran on his body or fluttered through threw the air. Some of it was salvageable and having the tool in his claw and being disoriented was enough for the Draconian to begin welling on instinct. Air battered his face and stung at his eyes as he finally opened them. His stomach dropped out from him at how close the ground was. He had so little time. With a roar of pain Vayden ripped more blood from his body violently. It would not run fast enough to save him. Splits and tears covered his already cut left forearm and bicep. The blood streamed though the air rippling unnaturally in the heavy wind from left arm to right hand where the tool sat. With a deep breath he burned the modest blood well into power and pulled the air against himself in a sudden violent motion before spreading his wings.

The air hit him like a stone wall when he called it. Worse, his focus slipped as he called the air causing his elements to clash. About a quarter of his called air burst into flame around him. The heat was intense and were it not for his armor and scales handed down from dragons he might have been severely burned. When his wing drew open the air slapped at them with enough force to overextend the limbs painfully. He pulled against it with all his might. Once, twice, thrice he fought the air before the impact. Feeling the end to his fall and barely being able to see through the heat and air tears in his eyes Vayden crashed blindly past Astrid. For all he knew her vaguely defined form had been a boulder he narrowly missed. No doubt the air around him felt warm as they passed within striking distance of each other. A breath later the draconian obliterated a scraggly tree as thick as his forearm and rolled across the rock and snow. Darkness found him at the moment of impact. When again his eyes fluttered open what could have been seconds or minutes later the contrast of his blood on the snow pulled at him for action. With a shaky claw he drew his scriptor once more. Habit had seen the tool put away when he knew there were no more scripts he could spend luckily or else it might have been lost to him. In a tight grip he focused on the many self-inflicted wounds on his body each burning with pain. Without his magic he would have likely bled to death from them. With Datum Vitale at least blood loss wouldn’t be what killed him. His wounds didn’t close at his command but the blood stopped flowing. After the monumental expenditure of will it took he let his arm fall against the red speckled snow and just breathed. It was shocking that he had lived. Gratitude and awe were all he felt for a moment that he spent just enjoying each steaming breath of cold mountain air.

 

[Astrid]

The thing in the sky crashed to the ground just behind her. Astrid ducked, sure it was going to hit her. She breathed a sigh of relief when it didn't. Eyes wide, she glanced behind her at whoever had fallen from the sky. It had wings, which wasn't surprising. They were sprawled around them in the snow. There was blood. The snow was stained with it.

Astrid chugged through the snow to the flying creature and fell to her knees beside it. He was draconian. Astrid had met a handful before, they were common in the mountains and a few travelled through Belgrath on occasion. One had even given her a charm when she was young, a beautiful thing made of iron and twisted into an intricate design laced with a green gem in the center. Astrid still wore it, tucked beneath her tunic. She felt for it upon seeing the draconian man before her. His midnight scales were riddled with gashes, but they had, incredibly, stopped bleeding.

Astrid raised a hand and gently slapped at his cheek, "Hey, are you still with me?"

She had never been one for healing or medicine, but she did know the mountains. The snow was numbing, so she began to pack it in over the draconian's wounds, careful not to press too hard lest the bleeding begin again. His eyes were open and he was breathing, she noted.

"Try not to move too much," she said, "Do you know how far away we are from Belgrath? I can get you help there."

 

[Vayden]

Blood loss intentional and otherwise had Vayden’s mind a little fogged. Were it not for a warm gentle slap he may have let himself slip into unconsciousness on that cold mountain. Unfocused eyes of fiery amber rolled up to regard a woman crouched over him. Was she attacking? It would be just his luck to find bandits out here… but no. She seemed concerned. That was a marked change in his fortunes, or so it seemed for the moment. She had surprised his fogged senses with her appearance though and the evidence was plain in a wisp of dark smoke curling from his maw as his throat smoldered at the ready. Vayden held his fire though and for a moment he just looked up at the stranger as she packed snow onto his wounds.

Whoever this was she dressed like a dwarf. The former Redeemer had dealt with their peoples often enough to recognize the make of her armor. Yet her proportions were off. Was she human? Maybe but many strange and unique creatures walked the land. Curiously she expressed a desire to find Belgrath for some medical help. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Vayden wanted to right himself to address the stranger but if she wasn’t going to put that short sword of hers in his belly then he would take every second to recover. Still he watched her like a predator might another predator while keeping his scriptor gripped tightly in one claw. It was dark rune laced bone now with no blood being pulled through nut would be dangerous enough should she suddenly grow duplicitous. “The dwarf city,” his eyes flit down to her armor meaningfully for a moment, “it’s about 20 days by land due south,” it was unlikely he had gotten more than a few miles from his original takeoff point. Those words should hold true. He paused for a moment. If his former friends and family were serious enough about catching him they could put a price on his head. Most wouldn’t hear of this but dwarves would definitely be some of the few. It was unlikely but it still made him cautious.

The fact remained that Vayden could use help. Better yet he could use a useful sword in the unlikely case the Redeemers found him while he was weak. “A pointless venture. I will have healed by then. But your assistance-” he winced when finally he shifted his weight and felt his strained wing protest painfully, “is still appreciated.”

 

[Astrid]

Astrid helped the draconian sit upright. She wasn't sure how it was he could be able to heal so quickly. Perhaps it was magic or maybe it was due to his draconian blood. Whatever it may be, Astrid wished she had been blessed with it. A chill was settling into her bones and she wiped frozen snot from her nose. It had been too long since she'd last been in The Spine. After spending months traveling west and through the desert, she would be needing time to get used to the cold weather again. She was sure it wouldn't take too long, though.

"How long do you think it will take for you to heal?" Astrid asked him, sitting back on her heels, "I can't sit around for too long, I'll freeze."

Astrid fumbled for her belt and patted along the worn leather. Her bag had been taken, she remembered, which meant she had no food. She groaned. Belgrath being twenty days from where she currently sat gave her a good estimate of where in The Spine she'd dropped. There weren't many settlements this deep in The Spine as the mountain terrain made it difficult to build without the skilled hands of a dwarf or, at the very least, dwarven tools.

"I think there should be a waypoint within a day's walk from here. Somewhere west of us. I think," Astrid trailed off as she spoke. She couldn't remember exactly where the inn was. Only that the owner's wife made a hearty soup. She had been once as a child with her dwarf-parents when they went to collect materials for her mother's smithing job at a somewhat-neighboring town. She spoke stronger this time, "That is, if you're in need of something hot to eat."

 

[Vayden]

When prompted to sit Vayden allowed the small stranger to help him as best she could. A tense jaw was all that kept down a grown of pain. Everything hurt. He took in more cool breaths and realized how chilled his body felt. With the blood loss and icy wind buffeting him during the fall he felt like it would be little time before his fingers began to grow sluggish. His body already ached to shiver but all he allowed was a slight shudder his acquaintance might have felt as she momentarily supported him. He needed to look as strong as possible until he truly knew this unnamed stranger. Despite his recent split from family and culture bigotry was hard to ignore when it had been taught to you from birth. It colored his trust a little against the seemingly earnest soft-skinned woman. Yet alternative to the beliefs of most his people Vayden had maintained necessary relationships with dwarves before and did think some of them had value beyond as means for trade. This stranger’s dwarfish garb subsequently encouraged some small trust. In the end he slipped his black scriptor back into the holster at his belt. If she had meant him harm he figured she would have attacked by now.

The armored lady asked honestly of his healing abilities with an implication that he might be able to do it before they froze. If the reptilian man knew whether he would offend he might have grinned at the idea. Instead, he stood slowly and pointedly avoiding using her for support. It was harder than he expected but not impossible. “Sooner than most but not before we freeze,” he breathed in heavily accented common while rolling his shoulders and stretching his back. The male’s acquaintance spoke up then offering some faltering confidence about a waypoint to the west. He eyed her while ignoring the slight wobble in his vision and doing his best not to sway. If she was wrong he had confidence he could make his way in these mountains. He hadn’t heard of any waypoint but these were not parts of the mountains he had ever frequented. The call of a warm hearth was harder to ignore by the second. “A warm meal wouldn’t be unwelcome but I have some thing I need to grab before we go: a bag with supplies and furs inside. It’s in that general direction so it shouldn’t add to our traveling much.” Vayden’s gait was stiff and the snow cold against his clawed feet but he moved to take the lead. Luckily his legs were relatively undamaged.

While he moved Vayden idly began to poke and prod his various injures. Claiming he would heal sooner than twenty days had been more bravado than estimation. Fortunately what he found were not broken bones or torn ligaments just moderate lacerations, minor burns, and a few wince-inducing bruises. These things he could surely heal using his blood mending meditation. His left arm was the most painful injury so he made sure to hold the snow previously packed into it in place until the burning cuts and splits gradually numbed. “Call me Vayden. It’s pleasant to meet you,” he said turning to make sure the woman would follow and allowing her a moment to give her name if she chose before continuing on, “Really it's a pleasant surprise to find anyone with a kind heart in these cold mountains but I have to wonder what someone equipped as you are is doing so far from...well… anywhere.” The words were honestly put in the draconian’s low baritone voice but they hid a mild suspicion. Only a fool would get lost in the mountains with not even a pack upon their back but even a helpful fool was better for him than no one right now. He moved to start their hike over treacherous rocks and mountain vegetation trying not to appear as weak as he really felt.

 

[Astrid]

"I'm Astrid," she replied as Vayden stood. It was impressive that he was standing at all considering his wounds, even if he was shaky. Astrid would offer her shoulder to him so he would have something to support him as he walked, but she was considerably shorter than him, two feet to be exact, so her assistance would be more of a hinderance than a help. She finished, "It's pleasant to meet you, too."

Vayden had a particular way of speaking. He was regal, in a sense. Of course, standing seven feet tall was enough to make him seem somewhat of a powerful being and the dangerous flight he'd crash landed from made him seem reckless. Perhaps he thought himself immortal. Astrid couldn't judge him too much, though. Maybe a seemingly immortal draconian would be some help in her self-proclaimed quest. She would need it if she were to hunt down the oracles and find Nocre. Unfortunately, she had no clue where to start and didn't know how crazy she would sound were she to tell the first stranger she happened upon in the mountains. She'd save the details for another time.

Standing up, Astrid did her best to answer Vayden's question, "I guess you got lucky finding me. If I'm going to be honest with you, I'm not entirely sure why I ended up here. I... er... teleported, I suppose. I wasn't expecting to end up in The Spine."

Astrid awkwardly adjusted her chestplate and headguard, trying desperately not to seem suspect. She was always horrible when it came to persuasion. Pulling a sword and threatening to draw blood was more her forte when it came to getting her way. She saw no need to do so with Vayden. He wasn't prying and he was injured. She supposed it would be cowardly to do so with him, should she need to.

"Anyway," Astrid cleared her throat, "will you need any help walking?"

 

[Vayden]

Vayden’s arm looked something like he had stuck it in a loose pile of blades. Jagged black scales surrounded the deep red splits in flesh. As he pressed snow to it the loss of feeling led him to push a little too hard and a fresh albeit small stream of draconian blood dripped to the snow. He grimaced and let the snow fall from his grip choosing instead to put some pressure a little further up the limb to slow its bleeding. He had only opened the wound slightly and it might close so long as he was gentle with it. For the moment small drops of blood ran off his claws intermittently.

Astrid introduced herself and gave a vague explanation of why she was in the mountains. Perhaps she was a sorceress? He might have asked if that didn’t risk her posing the same question to him. Outsiders often cringed at the idea of blood magic and driving her off was less than ideal. As he watched the woman and thought about this it was easy to notice Astrid’s awkward movements. They were fleeting but he had to wonder if he had conveyed some suspicion on his face. He tried to force it to be more neutral in an attempt not to be disrespectful. When Astrid straightened up and asked if he would need help walking Vayden couldn’t help the skeptically raised eyebrow that crested his sharp draconic features. “I will manage,” he offered simply and turned to begin the trek toward his goods.

The location where the two unlikely acquaintances found themselves was separated from Vayden’s previously chosen campsite by steep snow covered stone and rocky dirt for a mile or so. Some trees spotted the area in little groups or solo. Most of it wouldn’t be too terrible but the pain that asked him rather insistently to stop and just sit made the hike arduous. The idea to use conversation to distract himself from the pain crossed Vayden’s mind but with the unsteadiness in his vision and slowly numbing limbs it was taking most of his concentration to keep steady. The man did his best to hide these facts. “—You wear the armor of a Dwarf,” He managed eventually between breaths, “Do you know the people—of Belgrath?”

 

[Astrid]

"I do," Astrid replied, thinking back to her years spent growing up in Belgrath, "I was raised there."

Growing up in Belgrath had been normal, at least to Astrid it was. She wasn't sure how humans were normally raised, but the dwarf way suited her just fine. Most of her meals consisted of hearty meat and soup. She didn't have much of a taste pallet for anything else. Plus, It was always warm. The stone halls were bristling with the warmth of the fires from the Belgrath-Akkar. The magma could be felt through the whole city. She was also familiar with long days of work. Being raised as a dwarf made her resilient and her human muscles easily adapted to the heavy lifting required of her.

She was sure most of the dwarves she knew were still residing in Belgrath. There weren't nealy as many dwarves living there as there once was before the Golden Age, but those who remained stuck together. Asrtid was particularly reminded of Dolores, the medicine lady, the only medicine lady, who had patched her up multiple times when she was a kid. She was always open to help whoever needed it. Should she or Vayden hurt themselves again sometime in their travels, assuming Vayden hadn't healed by the time they made it to Belgrath, if they made it to Belgrath at all, she would help them.

The cold was settling into Astrid's bones now and conversation did seem to take some edge off of it as she waded through knee-deep snow. She continued, peering up at Vayden through iced eyelashes "What about you? Where do you call home?"

 

[Vayden]

With every aching step Vayden regretted his injured wings more and more. Still he did a better than average job on the snow and rocks. Clawed feet and experience both helped the man keep his balance as their trek became a careful downhill thing. Astrid admitted to growing up in Belgrath as they moved, a fact that could become problematic. He wondered if she would turn him in on principle should the authorities require it. Again he had to hope the draconians of his home were too proud to set that price. The man who had betrayed him would likely be satisfied with Vayden disappearing for good. Still that same man might lust for this death enough to persist. It was probably a half chance deal. Chance enough surely to be troubling. Astrid’s next conversation prompt rang then rather on topic for his thoughts. The draconian continued to move haltingly down hill and a short silence stretched as he wondered at a good answer. “That is a complicated thing recently,” he said still trying to keep his speaking fluid while gasping at the cool air. Blood loss was merciless with any sort of exertion. “I can’t really call anywhere home right now—but I know these mountains. They provide—what I need,” it was an honest enough answer while also staying safely vague on details.

Suddenly the ground ahead just seemed to give out in front of Vayden. The truth of it was the currently uncoordinated draconian had missed a small drop as he glanced over his shoulder to eyeball the sky for dark winged shapes. With a comical pinwheeling of his arms and painful reflexive wing flap he fell about three meters into a deep snowbank with a sad ‘plop’. For a moment not but a black lashing tail stuck up from the snow as Vayden lay hating the world. But, sooner than he wished, he pulled himself up from the snow with some effort. “I’m fine, damn it, I’m fine,” he said with a wave over his shoulder trying to curtail all the questions on his safety. He spat out a mouthful of snow and gracelessly pulled himself up. Spilling from the deep bank back onto their chosen ‘path’ was easy enough in the soft snow but he stood and shivered when finally he was free. At this point he would assure her of his relative good health if asked but wanted to move past his embarrassing nose dive quickly. “What was it like growing up in one of those cities?” The questions was posed for this reason and one other: he hoped Astrid might speak for a minute or two while he focused on getting moving once again and his breathing. He would try to get them hiking once again when she began to answer.

 

[Astrid]

So Vayden was familiar with the mountains. That made sense, considering he was reckless enough to go skydiving through them. He didn't say any more than that, though. Astrid didn't blame him. He had things he didn't want her to know and she had things of her own she wasn't quite ready to share. It reminded her of Nocre, of how naively open he was with her, how she decided to stick with him despite it.

Then, Vayden fell. He tumbled through the snow like he'd become one with it, the occasional wing or arm popping out of the white sea to indicate he was still there. Astrid charged through the snow, careful of where Vayden had dropped and peered out at him, watching as he pinwheeled downhill. When he finally rolled to a stop, his tail stuck up out of the snow as if it was a signal to go help him. Astrid ran down the slope as carefully as she could, only tripping up slightly before regaining her balance.

Vayden shot up with a huff and Astrid sighed. "Glad you're okay," she said, putting a hand to her chest. How he could keep up with his injuries and fall, Astrid had no clue. "Are you alright?" she asked as he pulled himself up without her help. Vayden shook it off and insisted he was fine. He tried to hide his embarrassment in a question.

Astrid thought on it, "What was it like, huh?"

It had been a while since she'd been home, but it was burned in her memory with all the heat of a hearth. Thinking back on it warmed her. She smiled.

"Well," she began, "the halls are carved from the stone of the mountain, so everything's cold to the touch. But there's a huge forge in the center of the city that heats everything up. I lived relatively close to the center city, so I never had to spend nights unnecessarily cold."

It was still cold, but her dwarf-father would pack blankets onto her bed and she'd huddle underneath them. She wasn't built like a dwarf. She had much less hair and much less muscle. She didn't keep the heat in like they did, but she got used to it.

"The dwarves are kind and they like to drink," Astrid continued, "So it was always rowdy. There was singing in the forge and parties going on every night."

She could feel herself smiling and it was distracting. She had just dropped into the Spine from the oracles' lair where her friend that she'd sworn protection to had been taken captive. She forced her smile into a frown and cleared her throat.

"It's been a while since I've been back," she said, "Anyway, how close are we to your supplies?"

 

[Vayden]

Onward they pushed through the cold quiet of the mountains. Vayden focused on his moving to hopefully avoid anymore embarrassing falls but he did not altogether ignore Astrid. He recognized the tone of one relishing the thought of home and it reminded him of all he had lost. All the friends, all the brothers and sisters who might just try to attack him on sight now. Sharp memories of a promise made and how irresponsibly he had almost broken that vow today. Melancholy settled on the big draconic man and so he let the conversation go. “We are almost there,” he breathed glancing up to see the campsite ahead. The mountain walls came unevenly together into a sort of corner here. A little less than ten meters up that rocky corner a ruffly ten square meter wedge shaped shelf was protected from rain and areal view by the overhanging cliff. A comfortable silence fell as they pushed the last few minutes it took to reach their destination.

Now standing at the bottom of the cliff the two adventures were faced with the last hurtle: a near ten meter climb up to the shelf. The rocks were rugged here but offered reasonable handholds for anyone with the arm strength to use them. Getting up there hadn’t been a problem before but a wince inducing pump of Vayden’s wings reassured him he wasn’t flying up there today. He glanced down to his torn-up arm with a frown. “My things are up there but I can’t make the climb in my condition. I’ll give you a boost if you can make it the rest of the way,” his flame colored eyes looked to Astrid then verifying whether she was willing. He assumed she would be having apparently grown up in these mountains. No one he knew would cower at such a simple climb and so he knelt placing his good arm over his chewed up one to make a foot hold. Should she accept he would continue by lifting her foot as high as his chest and holding there until she could get purchase on the rocky face.

Above them the snug shelf was comfortable as far as camp sites go. A small fire lay against the inner corner and just nearby that a small area of the sandy soil has been cleared of debris for sleeping. The bag in question is a crude thing and lays just near the sleeping spot. On the rock wall near the fire a likeness of an armored draconian has been drawn onto the stone in charcoal. It is vaguely feminine to those who could recognize the narrower muzzle and other identifying proportions that portrayed this information. The art isn’t awful though not masterful either. Other than these few things there are also some bones in a pile nearby consisting of small game creatures and with visible cookfire charring.

 

[Astrid]

Astrid took a deep breath. She hadn't climbed in a while, but having lived in the mountains, she was well accustomed to it. She took off her gloves and stuck them in her pants pocket. Then, she put some energy in her step and let Vayden lift her up the cliff face. She dug her fingers into the cracks in the stone wall and hauled herself up until she could find footing. With a brief and subtle laugh, Astrid felt it all rush back to her: the wind on her face and reckless freedom of being separated from the ground. Her fingertips were beginning to numb, but she could still feel the rock beneath them. She looked up and began to push herself toward the top of the cliff.

She recalled her first climb. She was six, maybe seven, and her dwarf-mother was just behind her in case she fell. She did, but the promise of a hard shoulder saved her from passing out at the view of the ground so far beneath her. Astrid didn't dare to look down now. She'd learned years ago in that first climb that the ground is nothing to fear for. There will be another ground above her and she will reach it.

Astrid got to the campsite rather quickly. She was impressed with herself after having not climbed in months. She called down to Vayden, "I see the bag!"

It was coated in a thin layer of snow, which she brushed off after putting her gloves back on. She hauled it up and shook it gently so as to get the rest of the snow off, or as much as she could, before setting it in the cleared out area she assumed was for sleeping. Astrid had never slept directly on the ground when out traveling in the Spine. Instead, dwarves always carried sleeping rolls and extra heavy coats.

The sleeping area wasn't what caught Astrid's attention, though. It was the drawing. A draconian woman, Astrid assumed, armored and somewhat beautiful. She cocked her head and reached a finger up to greet the draconian drawing.

 

[Vayden]

Astrid did not fail to meet climbing standards for one who lived in the Spine. Vayden Grunted as he lifted more from pain then strain and in no time she was up the rock wall. A few tumbling pebbles marked where she disappeared from view and Vayden visibly sagged. He felt awful. His pride required he put up a tough front but as the numbness of cold intruded upon him the facts were laid bare. They might have to stay here a few hours to warm and so he could meditate to restore a bit of his strength. In preparation the male straightened up with a sigh and began to look around for some fire wood.

Locating fuel for a fire was a mindless practiced task so the Draconian man quickly began to reflect on what he had done in challenging the great skies. Sure, it had been reckless but what was done was done. What truly burned at him as that he hadn’t learned anything. Sure it had been cold and difficult to breath but no claw of Draco had smote him from the skies. His magic could <i>control</i> air. If there wasn’t enough then maybe he could bring some with him. This would take finer control than he was capable of. It had never been his goal to master magic but if he could manage to refine his control then perhaps he could use fire to also counter the biting cold. There was some hope. Vayden knew then this wouldn’t be his last venture into the heavens. Precautions could be taken in case he blacked out again but He would know. One day he would know what was beyond the sky.

Pulling together some firewood was made trivial with the lucky score of a long dead bush nearby. In good time Vayden had swept some snow from a large spot of stone and broken up the dry plant into a nice pile. The thickest of the scraggly bush’s central parts would burn for at least half an hour. That would be enough time to warm and find more firewood at least. The former Redeemer then crouched low over his kindling and breathed hot, bright life into the fire. A small stream flowed into the pile from his lips and flame began to dance warmly against his dark face.