Fiction The Golden Mountain

[Scalenex]

Spoiler: Boring author's forward

It's been a loooong time since I've released a longer fiction piece about my beloved Kahoun of Klodorex. I wanted my 4509th post to be auspicious and I've been sitting on this WIP for a while. Perfection is the enemy of the good. So I plan to finish this piece releasing a new piece of this story every few days. This will probably be a five parter, maybe a six parter counting the introduction.

This is a prequel and a sequel. The main events of this story occur five years after The Fall of Turochlitan, 1725 years before the events of the Orphaned Temple City. And there might be some tiny Easter eggs to @discomute 's Turochlitan stories which are officially canon as far as I'm concerned.

The Golden Mountain, Introduction

4500 Years before Sotek, Mount Klodor

“Amazing”
“I’m glad I let you talk me into making the pilgrimage with you. This was worth the climb”

The two winded Skinks sat down on a rock and looked down the mountain they climbed, then back up towards the peak of the mountain and stared at the giant glinting statue head.

“It took you long enough” said a third lizard. A young Saurus named Ralesk.
“Your legs are longer, you didn’t have to make as many steps” one of the Skinks said through a smile.
“You are strong...for Skinks” Ralesk replied.
“Thanks” was the Skink's the reply to the barbed compliment. He turned to his companion.
“We are standing a few yards from the spot where Lord Izzatal destroyed all those demons.”
“I’ve seen the monument in the distance but never close like this. I can feel the power warming me. I wonder if this is what Skink priests feel this kind of power all the time.”
“Hmm, I don’t know”

They sat in silence for a long time before one broke out in laughter.

“It almost looks like it is solid gold and not just gold plated.”

The other Skink scoffed.

“It would take all the gold in Lustria and then some to make a golden statue that big!”
“True, only a fool would think this is solid gold.”


3500 Years before Sotek, The Biting Bogs, High Elf survey expedition


“I wonder what these insects eat when they can’t get elf?” one of the men said.

A few of the men chuckled but most were too tired to laugh. Haldir knew of course these insects fed on all sorts of creatures, but most of the animals here were reptiles or amphibians. I suppose our warm mammalian blood is more nourishing than the local fare. Depressing to think about. Focus on something else.

Haldir tried to ignore the sloshing of muddy water in his boots. He had been alternating between ankle deep and waste deep water for the past six days with no respite. He looked up at the mountain. While closer than before, their objective was still frustratingly far away, but the gold on top glittered enticingly. Haldir chose to focus on the gold.

It took a century of thrift and deft negotiation to be the leader of this survey expedition. Then they sailed by the Mountain of Gold. By Haldir’s calculation it had to be at least several tons of gold. As leader of the crew he was entitled to a fully twenty-five percent of it. Granted it should have been much higher than a quarter, but it was not easy to find men willing to sail around Lustria and back without offering them a higher percentage. No matter.

That much gold could buy several mansions. A hundred of the finest Ellyrian stallions, a fleet of merchant ships. Haldir pondered the happy possibilities than stopped himself. This might be more gold than all of Ulthuan possesses. This might cause a disastrous inflation harming the Ulthuan economy. Perhaps he can make an accommodation with the Phoenix King, let the emperor hold most of the gold in secrecy to be tapped in small amounts every two hundred years or so during emergencies. Haldir was willing to help the Empire of Assuryan out in this way…for a price.

The Elf cartographer was pondering which princess he would marry when a loud splash and terrified whinny broke his reverie.

“D’arvit what is it?”
“Kill it! Kill it now!”

A lot of the men were scattering but they started to rally against the massive alligator that seemingly materialized out of nowhere in the middle of their caravan.

Elas, or possibly Jharack was whacking the scaly beast with his sword as it continued consuming its gruesome feast, seemingly indifferent to the sword blows. The Elf’s twin shouted at him.


“Out of the way, brother!”
“I’m…keeping…occupied...Jharack”

Most of the men had drawn weapons by now. One took a risk and fired and arrow only to have it bounce off. Another arrow came at the beast passing uncomfortably close to Elas, also doing no damage. A few had drawn swords or spears but none seemed eager to charge the ferocious river monster.

“Watch where you’re shooting!”

Elas sighed and ran around for a better position and drove his spear into the alligator’s eye and pushed it deep into his brain. He turned to his twin and smirked.


“Show off. Wait a minute.”

Elas looked about ready to retort when the horse started to neigh weakly.

“How is it still alive?” said another Elf.
“It won’t be for long,” came a sullen answer

Elas sighed and pulled the spear out of the alligator and impaled the horse's head in a similar manner to end its suffering. All the men began talking at once.

“Well…there goes our last draft horse.”
“D’arvit!”
“Better him than one of us.”
“We need to turn back.”
“Yeah”
“Are you sure?”
“Back to the ship, for sure!”
“No!”

Everyone turned to Haldir.

“I’m the leader, and we don’t go back without the gold.”
“With no draft horse how do you expect to haul it back?” Jahrack demanded.

Haldir took in a deep breath and sighed audibly.

“Even if we cannot carry all the gold we can still be as rich as princes.” Haldir implored emphatically.
“If this Chaos-damned swamp doesn’t kill us first!” Elas retorted.
“But we are already over halfway by my calculations…”
“No this isn’t halfway—” Jahrek said
“—the mountain is halfway” Elas finished.
“But—” Haldir stammered.
“We lost five men and four horses. Paerel, here is so sick I doubt he’ll make it to the end of the swamp before passing.” Jahrek said.

Paarel opened his mouth to object but then closed it again with out speaking. The sick elf slumped against the man near him and looked both terrified and embarrassed. He couldn’t object even to his own death at this point.

“We are all getting some kind of swamp sickness. You want us to cross this gods-damned swamp, climb that mountain—” Elas continued.
“And are we going to be in any shape to fight the Lizardmen after doing all that?” his twin interrupted.
“The Lizardmen are a myth!” Haldir shouted.
“Then we climb down the mountain carrying hundreds of pounds of gold, then cross this gods-damned swamp again!” Jahreck resumed his speech.
“Exactly, with hundreds of pounds of gold!” Haldir exclaimed.
“If the swamp, mountain, or Lizardmen don’t kill us—“ Elas stated.
“—then the survivors will be rich—” Haldir started
“The survivors will still be forced to still sail thousands of miles around this gods-forsaken continent!” Jahrick finished.
“Death or riches!” Haldir replied desperately glaring at both twins.

The other Elves were turning their heads back and forth watching the debaters. At this point all three seemed too angry for words. Ailre broke the silence.

“Sir, we have to turn back or we’ll all die. We lose too many more men and we won’t have enough men to make the ship ready. At that point gold is worth nothing”

Haldir regained his composure and was about to say “This is insubordination” then he looked in the faces of his crew and saw their mutinous intent. “Insubordination” was putting it gently.

“Let’s make camp. I want to take some readings to mark the mountain on the map against my star charts. Then we can turn around back to the ship. Maybe we can come back with a better organized expedition”


Roughly 300 years after the coming Sotek, Naggaroth, Grand Cartographers’ Headquarters


Several Dread Lords stood in a massive chamber lit by dozens of lanterns. The Elven retainers were just dismissed, this room was too important to allow slaves in. Every wall and table had an intricate mapp, chart, or globe. The Dread Lords looked apprehensively at the doors.

They burst open and four Blackguard strode in. Three stood by the doors while the fourth paced the room, eying everyone and everything. He resumed his place with the others and addressed the nobles.

“You stand in the presence of Malekith, true heir of mighty Anenarion, Master of Naggaroth, and the rightful Eternal Emperor of all Elves.”

Malekith strode imperiously into the room. His baleful eyes staring from his helmet. The air hung with a pregnant pause.

“You may speak, lords.”
“Thank you, great one. We have wonderful news.” Lord Othorion said.

Othorion paused for Malekith to reply, but he did not. He just glared impatiently. Othorion wished he used a less extreme word than “wonderful.”

“Our corsairs have completed charting the Black Way.” Othorion exclaimed.

Malekith raised an eyebrow. Darthoras interjected.

“Lord Othorion overstated our position slightly, great one.”

Othorion’s forehead scrunched up at the veiled insult Darthoras made, but did not interrupt.

“We are decades away from mapping the entirety of the Black Way, great one, but we have a reliable path to easily navigate even the largest Black Arks from one ocean to the other.” This will reduce the time to voyage to Ind or Cathay by roughly half. We can also reach Lustria’s west coast as easily as the east now.”

Malekith waited several minutes before responding.

“I see.”

Othorion spoke again.

“Great One, we no longer need limit ourselves to obtaining slaves and riches from the Old World. The entire world is ours for the taking…yours for the taking!”

Othorion gestured at the most detailed world map in the center of the room. He made a sweeping gesture across the eastern lands. Malekith obliged them and walked towards the map. Darthoras began speaking.

“Great One, we can take the silks from Cathay, the fabled jewels of Ind, massive populations of unsuspecting humans to enslave…”

As Lord Dathoras gestured at mapped human cities, Malekith’s eyes drifted towards the relief map of Ulthuan across the table. The time was not right to take Ulthuan… There was another long pause.

“Great one?”

“I do not care what you do. As long as you pay the royal tithe I care not from whence the riches come!” the Witch King snapped before storming out of the Chamber of Maps.

The two lords waited till the footsteps of the Blackguard faded into nothing.

Othorion pointed at the northwest corner of Lustria and gestured for Darthoras to come closer.

“I have always been intrigued by the so called ‘Golden Mountain’.”

 

[Paradoxical Pacifism]

I like this introduction a lot. Well done!

It seems to meticulously build tension and foreshadow conflict between the lizardmen and the other races on this Golden Mountain. That being the Lizardmen's usage of religious pilgrimage, and the other races' greedy urge for its riches.

With that said, however, does the reader truly need to know straight away that the statue is only gold plated? This information given to the reader straight away sort of removes a lot of the drama from the other races' greed. The reader will know right away that the urges that drive them are fallacious, instead of sympathizing with what drives their respective characters.

In that case, i would suggest focusing a lot on the dramatic irony of these warm-blooded characters.

Haldir was willing to help the Empire out in this way…for a price.

Considering this is 3,500 years before sotek, I assume this refers to Ulthuan instead of the Human empire? It's not made clear.

Anyway, give us some'more pls

 

[Aginor]

Nice read!

Short questions:
How big is that statue?
And is gold roughly of equal value/scarcity as in the real world?

The reason I ask is: I am not sure one could ever think a statue made of one ton of pure gold looks all that impressive, size-wise.
A ton of gold has a volume of 51 liters. A cube of 37cm length (a bit more than a foot for my American friends) would weigh a ton.

It would also strike me as odd if there was only a few tons of gold in Ulthuan.

 

[Scalenex]

Considering this is 3,500 years before sotek, I assume this refers to Ulthuan instead of the Human empire? It's not made clear.

That was the intention. At this point in history, the High Elves believed they were the only empire in the world. Lizardmen, Dwarves, Ogres were mere rumors. Skaven were less than a rumor. Humans were "known" to be barbarians living in mud huts barely better than Orcs and Goblins.

How big is that statue?

The monument is big enough that it’s visible from over a hundred miles away on a clear day as an obvious glint at the top of the mountain. With a spyglass it looks likes a giant golden rock. Mount Klodor upon which the Monument sits on is about 5000 meters/16,000 feet tall.

I have no idea how big that would be in mathematical terms. There is a common trope in fantasy that statues, castles, and whatnot are often unrealistically big. I'm sure it's bigger than the heads of Mount Rushmore.

And is gold roughly of equal value/scarcity as in the real world?

I operate on the assumption that the Warhammer World That Was has almost exactly twice the surface area of the real world. It probably has twice as much gold. Maybe more because gold is coveted by pretty much everyone. Again, treasure hoards in fantasy are often unrealistically big but that doesn't make gold any less coveted.

It would also strike me as odd if there was only a few tons of gold in Ulthuan.

Math, my one weakness! However much gold Ulthuan actually has, if the Monument of Izzatal really is solid gold, it's introduction to Ulthuan or any other economy would probably at least double the amount of gold in the country and cause major inflation.

Anyway, give us some'more pls

But I'd rather answer questions!

 

[Aginor]

Just for a very rough ballpark estimation:
Pizarro and his criminals robbed the Incas of roughly 30 tons of gold in the 1530s, although we speak of ~22 carat gold mainly, so that stuff is made of roughly 80% actual gold atoms. That's about the quality that's used for gold coins.

9 carat gold still looks good and has only 20% of actual gold atoms in it.
So if the gold isn't exceptionally pure it could be reasonable to say that Lizardmen can easily be in possession of 200 tons of gold, and the same probably goes for the elves.

We know that Spain had some financial problems when the conquistadores brought home around 20 tons of gold.

(But take all that with a grain of salt, I am not an expert on that.)

 

[Aginor]

Oh dear, I am in a gold rush now, digging up info.

A few things about gold:


The total amount of gold that is around today is somewhere around 180,000 tons of gold.

But keep in mind that a lot of it is mined industrially.
In fact it seems that around 140,000 tons of that was mined after the year 1900.

Around half of the above gold is in jewelry it seems, the rest is... somewhere else. Places like fort Knox, or just in electronic parts.

Ancient mesoamerican and south American civilizations did not know how to gain metals from ore IIRC, their metallurgy wasn't very advanced (hence no metal swords and the like). So they only had silver and gold because it can be found in the ground in solid form (native). And of course they didn't find a lot of the gold that really is there.

The California Gold Rush (the 49ers) yielded roughly 375 tons of gold.

A good gold mine in medieval times produced one ton of gold per year it seems.

The Greeks once stole around 18 tons from the Egyptians in ancient times and it was a LOT for them.

The total yield of what the Spanish stole from all the Americas was around 150 tons, some sources say.

Ok, enough about gold for now.

 

[Scalenex]

Mountain of Gold, Part One
(Assembling the players)

325 years after Sotek, five years after the fall of Turochlitan

Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut

A few hundred men were left to defend the ships. They grumbled about not getting to shed blood but they were the lucky ones. They didn’t have to march through the stinking muddy jungle.

The fool Darthoras wanted to go straight through the swamp. “It’s half the distance!” Fortunately the sorceress, Dessiele, backed up Othorian. She eviscerated an insubordinate corsair and read his entrails claiming that Khaine said the path for victory was around the swamp.

Othorion suspected that entrails divination was a total farce. A sorceress could look at entrails and proclaim whatever sign from the gods she wants, and no one would dare question her reading lest they become the next set of entrails used. Dessiele knew marching through swamps was costly and puffed it up as prophecy to convince superstitious Dathoras. Smart woman.

Marching through the swamp was foolish, but marching through the jungle was no simple task. The ground was muddy. The mud grasped at each man’s boot. The carts got stuck often. The humidity and the heat baked the Elves in their armor. The Cold Ones and Hydras seemed okay against both the heat and the mud. I wish we could afford more beasts.

The trees and foliage was annoying. Eventually it was decided they would need to hack a path through to let the supply carts through. Progress was slow. Never very disciplined, even in the best of times, most of the harpies had left the main army behind days ago circling back whenever they felt like it. The Lizardmen will probably be able to march at least twice as fast as this pathetic slog we're doing. Where are they?

A few days later, six men were lost due to the local jungle diseases. They still lived but they had become burdens and were put down. Twelve men had died when they left camp to do their business and set up a latrine near a suffocating tree that poisoned the very air. Four men were lost due to disciplinary issues. Then they finally met the enemy.

Large shadows passed overhead. Lizardmen on large flying reptiles were scouting. Othorion halted the line and mobilized the archers. A hail of crossbow bolts brought down most of the flyers in a bloody heap. Harpies chased down the flying wounded and ripped them apart with their talons.

Dathorias turned towards Othorion.

“First skirmish, no losses for us. A good omen.”

Dessiele rolled her eyes.

“Not a good omen, this is an omen of warning. The lizards know where we are now.”

Smart woman indeed.


Lazho, Klodorex's High Priest of Itzl


Horns were blaring in alarm around Klodorex and Skinks were milling about the Kahoun in all directions like an ant hill that had been kicked over.

Two hours prior, a flock of over a dozen ugly flying humanoids flew over all the farms and settlements, but they were gone by the time, but they were long gone before the Skinks could marshal a cohort of archers or a Skink priest capable of defending the sky. Terradon riders were deployed after the creatures, but with the monsters’ head start, no one was optimistic that they would be caught. The Saurus warriors had gathered into regiments under their banners, but they had no enemies to fight.

Lazho, high priest of Itzl was livid. He tore out of the main temple and through the Kahoun. He berated every Skink chief he could find for their slow response times.

“What if the Skaven come back and we are this slow!”

Many Skinks dipped their heads and turn away at this rhetorical question. His eyes lingered on an acolyte priest and he stared pointedly until he responded.

“High one, we are still waiting for a response from the Slann. Lord Merestar has not given any directives for our patrols in five years.”
“Lord Merestar hasn’t uttered a single word in five years.”

A lot of onlookers stood aghast. Was Lazho daring to cast aspersions on a Slann?

“Spoiled, you all have become spoiled! Mighty Merestar and the others have far more important things to do than coordinate our defenses! The other temple cities don’t benefit from a Slann doing everything for them. We need to take responsibility for security and that responsibility is clearly lacking.”

For a second Lazho felt his magic coming to the surface. He seemed to grow in mass and take on a more ferocious aspect. Shape changing will not help this situation. He willed the effect to dissipate. All the Skinks in his vicinity scurried away like frightened lacrey beetles.

There was still one more Skink chief he needed to speak to. Lazho stormed off to the eastern district he approached the Skink attending the door.

“Bring me to the Master of the Watch!” Lazho ordered.
“He is not back yet, sir.”
“Where is his second?”
“Not back yet, sir. His patrol hasn’t come back yet either”
“Not back yet? Their last patrol was due back here back three days ago.”
“Sometimes patrols are late, sir, you know how Tlanxa Skinks are with strict schedules.”

Lazho desire to vent his anger at underlings gave way to genuine concern.

“…our air patrol is late to report back, and then the Kahoun is scouted by flying Anathema...”
“Sir?”

Without even responding, the Lazho already departed the Terradon Quarter.

“Scout! Gather all the scouting parties now!” he shouted to no one in particular running towards the city center.
“Hold up Lassszho. No need to ssshout. I’ve been trying to find you for over two hourssss.”

Lazho turned in the direction of the noise and saw a golden eye looking at him topping a vaguely Skink shaped outline in the dirt road.

“Garesh, is that you?”

The Chameleon Skink flinched at being addressed by name. It’s nearly impossible for a non-Chameleon Skink to address a Chameleon Skink by name, but Garesh was the only Chameleon Skink missing an eye. After the last surviving Turochlitan rebel savaged Klodorex’s Chameleon Skink population, Garesh was easy to recognize due to his missing eye.

“Yesss, I am he.” the Chameleon added impatiently.

Answering an obvious question. He must surely be in a hurry, if he is not chastising me, Lazho thought.

“An army of warmbloodssss approaches through the Jungle of Green Mistssss.”

It was a sunny day, but Lazho felt like a cloud had blotted out the sun.

“Ratmen?”
“No, they look like humans, but they have pointed earsss.”
“That’s the Second Race, Elves.”

“Yesss them. There are at two and a half thousand Elvesss. About half have spears and shieldssss. The other have swordsss and some kind of ranged weapon. They wear thick false scales made from dark metal. They have twenty-one Cold Ones that seem to be under their control. They have two hundred and thirty-six warm blooded quadrupeds slightly bigger than Antoks that they either ride or have pulling suppliessss. They flying creatures are hard to count as they do not stay still. Fifty to a hundred. They have six large weapons that look like giant bowssss. Worst of all is two monsters that mock holy Sotek. Anathema made up of snakes bound together in blasphemous massss of evil.”

“How far away are they?”
“At their pace they could be here tomorrow morning. Three days at the mossst”
“That close! Why didn’t you spot them earlier?”

Inaudible hissing. Lazho could tell Garesh was swallowing a statement one does not normally given to priests.

“There are only sssix of us left and a lot of jungle to patrol. Chameleons cannot carry the entire Kahoun on our shouldersss”

The Skink priest sighed.

“You are right of course. I apologize. I am just frustrated that none of our other scouts caught anything earlier. I need to inform the Slann.”

It took all his restraint not to add “for all the good it will do” to the end of his sentence.

The two younger Slann were so used to Merestar running the city that they could barely be roused from working on celestial equations that their elders in Itza had already solved. Merestar had not even moved since the Turochlitan experiment was destroyed. Desserex was the only Slann who would even acknowledge Skinks, but he was still pondering the ramifications of his own experiment since his pet human committed suicide about a year prior.

Time was of the essence, but the Skink attendants still made Lazho wait almost an hour before he could address Lord Desserex.

“Lord Desserex, an army of nearly three thousand with powerful beasts and artillery is a short distance away to the west.”

Lord Desserex blinked in reply.

After less than five minutes took a deep breath, preparing to speak. Lazho’s heart rose in his chest.

A fast response. Surely what Lord Desserex knows will save us!

“Hmm….The second race approaches from the western shore. The Second Race hails from beyond Lustria’s eastern shore….”

The Slann paused and the Skink priest tensed up.

No, don’t say it. Please no…

“….I must ponder this development…” came the croaky reply

Slann can directly read the minds of their servants, but they rarely choose to do so. This was fortunate. If the Slann knew Lazho’s thoughts, the Slann might have had his guards execute him on the spot. Lazho took a deep breath of his own and chose his words carefully.

“…Of course, my lord…I shall see to our defenses.”

 

[Nazqua]

near a suffocating tree that poisoned the very air

Ahh, The carnivorous plant thread is kicking into action. great story, I'm loving the skink priest lazho.

 

[Paradoxical Pacifism]

Part one needs to be edited some more. Other than that, i thoroughly enjoyed this part. builds onto the tension and provides us with a character with an interesting dilemma, Lazcho (spelling error near the start of the lizardmen part of this installment).

 

[Scalenex]

Mountain of Gold, Part Two
(battle preparation)

Lazho, Klodorex's High Priest of Itzl

With the Slann asleep or deep in contemplation. Lazho knew it would be a lost cause to convince the Skink attendants to loan them any Temple Guard. Most of the Skink priests wanted to stay with the Slann and they kept a lot of warrior Skinks as their retainers. Nearly everyone wanted to turtle up in the Kahoun.

Ralesk was Lazho’s only real ally. Ralesk was the oldest and most respected Saurus in Klodorex. He had led one of the few large Saurus contingents that joined Tehehauin’s army during the Sotek War. He had literally fought in the army of great Izzatal. Six hundred Saurus infantry and two score Saurus cavalry followed his call. A good start but not enough.

The Skink chiefs were reluctant to commit any troops without a lot of work on Lazho’s part. Lazho was able to flatter, beg, inspire or browbeat enough chiefs and cohort leaders to get a thousand Skinks and just shy of a hundred Kroxigor to lift their banners. Along with four Stegadons, two Razordons, four Salamanders, and a measly six Terradons. Terradon losses were already high and the newly appointed acting Master of the Skies was reluctant to lose many more. With so few chiefs or priests to lead them, this seemed like far too few troops.

Never the less, nearly two thousand of the First marching to battle was an impressive sight, larger than the force that destroyed the rebels of Turochlitan. The Elves had strength of numbers, but the jungle would fight the warmbloods with every step they took, and the jungle was an old friend to the First.

With how close the enemy was and how slow their army was to mobilize. Tazho would be lucky to connect with the enemy army before they could get within fifty miles of the city’s outskirts.

Garesh had reported that the Elves’ crossbows could fire at least as far as the First’s giant bows, but with much greater accuracy. Even with a hundreds of Skinks, the Elves had the edge in a shooting fight. The First needed to make sure they could pick terrain with heavy foliage to screen them until they were practically in melee range. Unfortunately the best site to ambush the warmbloods in this manner with an army their size was a mere ten miles from the Kahoun outskirts.


Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut


Almost two dozen dead elves later, all the scouts and outriders had finally figured out what the suffocating carnivorous plants looked like. They dubbed these “strangle trees.” That was before they ran across trees with draping vines that literally tried to strangle elves. That only killed two elves, having trouble pulling fully armored men into the trees, but they unhorsed many in the attempt. Though the surviving scouts developed a fine working knowledge of dangerous fauna now, they were still as nervous and jumpy as slaves on the eve of a major blood sacrifice.

When an outrider went to make his report, Othorion wasn’t sure if he’s ever seen an elf sweat more. The outrider pulled out a sheaf of parchment and a charcoal pencil.

“Lords, lady sorceress, if I may”

Othorion nodded. The outrider began sketching a crude map.

“According to the harpies, we are roughly thirty miles from the base of the Golden Mountain. The Lizardmen have built a stairway and a set of switchback trails to ascend the mountain. They have a small town at the entry way but it’s not fortified, at least not fully fortified. The city center has a wall around around it but most of the rest of the town is completely open.”
“We don’t care about the town, we want the gold at the top of the mountain.” Dathorias said.
“If the townsfolk die, they cannot stop up from ascending the mountain.” Dessiele said.
“Indeed, but we need to get there first.” Othorian said.

He turned his eyes back to the scout who resumed talking.

“We can reach the town going almost straight east. We just need to make slight detours around clusters of strangle trees here and here.”

He marked them with X and mile notations.

“The problem is further ahead where the d’arvit trees become a lot thicker. We can get through but we’ll need to narrow the marching column width by about half to fit through without taking losses. This will create something of a bottleneck.”
“Surely the lizards know about the bottleneck this close to their home. It’s where I would set up an ambush if I were them,” Dessiele said.
“Can we go around?” Dathoras asked the scout.

The scout took a very long pause.

"Yes, but not easily. To the south the thrice cursed trees just get thicker. We don’t know where it ends, our fastest rider gave up and turned around after riding south for thirty miles. It would take a very wide circle to go around them and turn a one’s day march into at least a week’s march. The trees give way to an opening in the north after less than ten miles. but then we hit the d’arvit swampland that we were trying to avoid in the first place.”
“We go through the swamp, it’s better than suffocation.” Dathoras said imperiously.

Every dark elf unit commander in earshot looked nonplussed.

Othorion scratched his chin and replied.

“No. The swamp has hidden dangers, the trees we can see. We shall risk the bottleneck, but change the marching order. Hydras to the fore. Dessiele, if one of the magic toads was nearby, you could feel it?”
“Yes, lord, that kind of mystic power cannot be hidden.”
“And you do not sense them?”
“I would tell you if I did.”
“Good. Then nothing waiting in ambush could threaten your abilities. Follow the Hydras and use your magic to make the Hydras stronger…or make the enemy weaker. Either way, we need to push through any opposition fast and hard."

 

[Scalenex]

Mountain of Gold, Part Three
(Battle is joined)

Lazho, Klodorex's High Priest of Itzl


The two false snake creatures rushed forward. Some of their heads wheezed passing the radius of the Trees of the Stolen Breath, but the bulky creatures didn’t even slow down.

Soon they were charged by Ralesk and dozens of Cold One Riders but before they could connect their spears with the anathema’s filthy flesh, Saurus and Cold One alike writhed in pain, their strength and concentrated sapped by foul magic. A few spears connected weakly but only Ralesk inflicted any real damage biting into one deep with the magical Mace of the Carnosaur.

The Hydra’s heads descended on the riders while their bodies continued forward pushing the enemy cavalry back. Some of the attacks were deflected, some were not. A few Cold Ones and Saurus were disemboweled, others were merely dismounted ungracefully. Ralesk was shouting at his men.

“Hold! We will destroy these insults to Sotek!”

Even from a distance Lazho saw the younger Sauri’s wills were faltering, dark magic made their spears feel unnaturally heavy.

This witchcraft will not stand.

Lazho called upon Itzl’s power and extended a portion of Itzl’s strength to the embattled Sauri and their Cold Ones. With one spell sapping their strength and another giving them strength, one of the Cold Ones vomited from dizziness but the bulk of the beasts and riders found their resolve and renewed their attack.

One of the snake monsters finally stopped moving, after succumbing to two hits from the Mace of the Carnosaur and at least twenty smaller spear wounds. At least ten Saurus were dead, and about as many wounded.

Ralesk turned to charge the other hydra but Dark Elf Cold One riders had already flooded in. They had numbers over the Saurui and the elves were fresh and eager, not exhausted and wounded. Lazho tried to bolster the Saurus cavalry again but he felt the original magical force dispel his efforts. The elf caster managed to successfully renew her strength sapping spell and Lazho failed to dispel it.

The Cold Ones on opposing sides snapped at each other menacingly as the Saurus braced themselves against the charge. The elves inflicted far more damage than they received. Despite Ralesk’s protests, the other Sauri broke and fled, carrying their general away with the momentum.

The surviving hydra was now engaging a block of Saurus Warriors and it healing its wounds faster than the First could inflict them. Hundreds of elves had cleared the bottleneck. Containment had failed, the battle began in earnest.


Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut


Othorion advanced through the gap in the murder trees amongst a regiment of spearmen. The regiment commander was competent, Othorion didn’t need to shout orders to reform ranks. Now that over half of the army was through, the harpies finally found their courage and flew overhead.

The harpies opted to swarm the much larger but very much outnumbered beasts of the Lizardmen air cavalry. A blizzard of ice shards ripped through the air eviscerating three of the Harpies, and forcing many to make an emergency landing where they found themselves facing a new blizzard, this time made of poison darts.

Othorion scanned for Dessiele’s unit then shouted at her, “Neutralize the Skink spellcaster!”

“There’s three or four of them!” she replied angrily while pushing an elf soldier in front of her. A dozen javelins rained down on her unit. Most rebounded off the soldiers shields and armor, except for the one Dessiele pushed. He was struck in the shoulder. He slumped to the ground dribbling spittle out the corner of his mouth as poison rapidly spread through his veins.

The sorceress pulled out a pair of serrated daggers and crossed the blades in a complicated pattern. A dozen spectral swords burst forward at a unit of lizard skirmishers she was engaged with cutting down about half of them were struck down. The remaining Skinks backed away carefully still throwing their javelins.

Othorion saw the leader had a feathered headdress. He casted some kind of Beast spell to augment a nearby unit of Sauri. Othorion was about to give the order to charge the spellcaster when he heard his regiment commander shout.

“Brace!”

Othorion’s own unit was charged by a mixed regiment of Skinks and crocodile Ogres and the Dread Lord almost didn't notice ttill they were already striking. Othorion cursed himself for getting distracted. He eyed the tallest Skink, noticing his gold bangles and feathers. Seeing he was some kind of regiment commander, Othorion promptly decapitated him with the Rasoirhaut family’s ancestral blade. The warriors beside him skewered many of the smaller Lizards. Few of his men were seriously wounded.

The larger lizards were quite slow and the smaller lizards were quite puny, but many of the elves that were barely scratched by the smaller lizard began to visibly sicken, many slumped to the ground falling unconscious, likely never to wake up. Poison again. Too bad we do not have enough troops for a ful occupation. If we could somehow conquer Lustria, we could drown Ulthuan in a wave of poison.

Othorion lost track of what was going on in the rest of the battle with the giant crocodile creatures blocking his view. This problem must be remedied.

 

[Paradoxical Pacifism]

The trees give way to the north after less than ten miles but the hit we hit the d’arvit swampland that we were originally ordered to avoid.”

Minor grammatical/spelling error in the first installment of part 2 that messes up the meaning behind this unless the reader reads it a couple of times.

Ralesk was shouting at his men.

Also minor, but I think replacing men with "sauri" or "lizards" would fit better in my opinion

Despite Ralesk’s protests, the other Sauri broke and fled, carrying their general away with the momentum.

I feel this probably could be elaborated on more. Saurus feel no fear, nor rarely do any tactical retreats, so something that explains/justifies this would be nice imo.

“There’s three or four of them!” she replied angrily while pushing an elf soldier in front of her. A dozen javelins rained down on her unit. Most rebounded off the soldiers shields and armor, except for the one Dessiele pushed. He was struck in the shoulder.

I just love this excerpt so much <3

It's so simple, yet very effective at characterizing Dessiele without much fanfare at all.

 

[Scalenex]

Minor grammatical/spelling error in the first installment of part 2 that messes up the meaning behind this unless the reader reads it a couple of times.

I do appreciate you watching out for typos, but if something is purely a mechanically error, I'd rather you PM me minor stuff like this.

Also minor, but I think replacing men with "sauri" or "lizards" would fit better in my opinion

"Men" can also refer to "soldiers". I got tired of writing "Sauri" and "Saurus warriors" over and again.

I feel this probably could be elaborated on more. Saurus feel no fear, nor rarely do any tactical retreats, so something that explains/justifies this would be nice imo.

Have you ever played a game of 8th edition. Saurus Warriors break and run...a lot.

I just love this excerpt so much <3

It's so simple, yet very effective at characterizing Dessiele without much fanfare at all.

Thanks, "show don't tell" is probably the most important thing a writer can keep in mind.

 

[Paradoxical Pacifism]

I do appreciate you watching out for typos, but if something is purely a mechanically error, I'd rather you PM me minor stuff like this.

Will do (and maybe with a few lustriapedia index requests to boot too )

Have you ever played a game of 8th edition. Saurus Warriors break and run...a lot.

Mostly commented from a fluff view point. They're propped up as unmovable, stoic soldiers, yet GW needs to contradict this or they'll brake their own game humorously . Then again, the preservation for their general probably gives them more than enough motive for a tactical retreat anyway (could be emphasized though), so discard what i said earlier.

Othorion lost track of what was going on in the rest of the battle with the giant crocodile creatures blocking his view. This problem must be remedied.

Reading this line, i'm guessing that Othorion isn't really effected that much by a massive bipedal crocodile that can swallow whole two or three elves in one fell swoop. That's some cool characterization, but there needs to be some form of emphasis on this in my opinion.

Dessiele's excerpt that i mentioned was so memorable because, as you mentioned, "Show Don't Tell" (Shoad N'tezl? ).

The reader can experience and become hooked by Dessiele's actions that not only speak for herself, but also give a clear-cut picture on her personality without boring out said reader. Going back to Othorion, his point of view ended too subtly in my opinion. There weren't really any hints that showed any of his characterization. I'm thinking that perhaps some description of body language that details his nonchalant and relaxed personality could remedy this.

 

[Scalenex]

Mountain of Gold, Part Three
(Turning points)

Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut

The crocodile ogres were slow, but every time their weapons connected, an Elf died. Sadly, the same could not be said in reverse. Their scales were almost hard as steel and seemed to be able to take on a hundred spear strikes before falling.

After what felt like an hour, Othorion walked away from the melee, covered in the lizard's purple blood. Othorion stood unopposed but with far fewer fighting men near him. He began to survey the battle as a whole.

All order was lost in the battle. The Skinks were so numerous and their movements were so erratic, they seemed to form a swirling cloud of skirmishers, occasionally raining javelins and darts at the enemy, all the while fleeing and regrouping many times.

Many of the Elves were not very disciplined after being cooped up on cramped ships for so long, and Dothorias’ troops were especially bad. When a band of Skinks tried to bait pursuers, the elves nearly always obliged.

The Lizardmen drew so many regiments out of position, it was more like a dozen separate melees than a single battle. Here a pack of Executioners was downing a giant horned beast. There a spike throwing dinosaur seemed to be shooting Harpies with such casual ease, it seemed born for the task. Othorion saw Cold One knights running down Skinks not far from where Salamanders were routing a unit of crossbowmen with gouts of fire. It was hard to tell which army was winning.

Patches of rolling darkness and flashes of localized inclement weather showed that neither Dessiele nor the Skink wizards were much closer to resolving their own mystic war.

The rear of the marching column had finally crossed the bottleneck. Dothorias finally had entered the battle with a regiment of crossbowmen. Behind them, soldiers began setting up giant bows into firing position.

The crossbowmen were trying to thin out a large block of Saurus infantry that had just routed a smaller group of corsairs. Between the reptiles’ raised shields and their iron hide scales, the shooting barrage accomplished next to nothing.

The fool Dothorias can barely command a gaggle of slaves, he definitely shouldn’t be commanding the firing line..

Once fairly certain there were no mobile Skink units nearby to snipe him, Othorion exited the spear regiment assigned to guard him, and ran to the back of the line.

“The smaller dinosaurs. The spike throwers and fire breathers, kill those first. Those are doing the real damage to us.”


Lazho, Klodorex's High Priest of Itzl


Lazho tried to summon magical energy to lash out at the elf sorceress, but she shut him down again. Most of his guards were dead, and he couldn’t face her head on. He tried making an organized retreat. He turned his attention to the snake anathema. It had routed a spawning of Sauri and crippled a Stegadon by itself. Ralesk was fighting it singlehandedly now. It was hard to tell who was in worst shape. The Hydra bled from over a dozen wounds. Ralesk’s shield was destroyed, and his Cold One had been killed, but he was still swinging his mace at it.

Ralesk smashed one of the snake heads into skull fragments and bloody gobbets, but another head took the opening to sideswipe him. The sole remaining survivor of Izzatal’s army was prone on the ground, bleeding and helpless.

“NOOOOO!!!!” Lazho screamed. He drew deep within his soul to call up Itzl’s energy and shape it into a massive golden javelin which he hurled at the anathema before it could finish the fallen general off.

The Hydra’s remaining heads cried out in surprise as they were all silenced by a bright flash of light. Lazho was exhausted, but also elated. For a split second he was even proud. He pulled off a spell of near-Slann potency without suffering a backlash, but he wasn’t the only one to notice.

Hundreds of sets of eyes turned towards the source of the impressive magic. Far more of the eyes were dark almond shaped elf eyes than the round golden eyes of the first.

Mahrlect.

 

[Scalenex]

Mountain of Gold, Part Three
(battle is resolved)

Lazho, Klodorex's High Priest of Itzl

Lazho’s eyes were locked on Ralesk’s bleeding body. His chest still rose and fall with his breathing. He was still alive.

The scales on Lazho’s neck tingled as he sensed hostile magic subtly closing in on him. The Elves only had one wizard in their army, but Lazho knew she was as powerful as a non-Slann can be. Now Lazho had gained her full attention.

That didn’t matter. He turned to his six surviving guards.

“We need to get Ralesk out of here.”

The seven of them ran to the Old Blood while Lazho tried to marshal his power to stop the female Elf’s next assault. He was too drained from his last spell and she was too strong for him to counter. It was like trying to hold back a Terradon with a papyrus fan.

Her palms were outstretched and from her pale hands, came a massive wave of black fire. Lazho flinched as he expected death to take him, but he did not feel any searing heat. He felt a light coldness.

The fire was snuffed out. Then he felt a familiar tiny tug against his own magical energy. Tockro must have activated the Cube of Darkness.

I thought I saw the Fallen Cold Ones run down his unit. I’m glad he survived somehow.

The Elf soldiers and the sorceress turned to face Ralesk. Lazho tried to use the dead monster to screen them from view, but that wouldn’t do much. Lazho examined Ralesk. He wasn’t in immediate danger of passing, but he clearly had a concussion and would need special healing herbs if not Slann magic as well. He wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

His companions could barely lift the hulking Saurus. Carrying him across a raging battlefield would be impossible.

My rescue plan wasn’t well thought out...

He sensed more gathering dark magic, but this time a pack of Sotek cast Skinks had seen what Lazho was trying to do. They interposed themselves between Ralesk and the elves. The Skinks blocked a flying wave of magical swords with their shields and bodies. The survivors began frantically hurling javelins at the sorceress and her guards. Two Elves dropped but over two dozen remained.

I can’t let their sacrifice go to waste.

Lazho called up his magic and called down Itzl’s blessing to cloak himself and his companions. Now that the Skinks were each as strong as a Saurus Warrior, and they were able to carry General Ralesk with relative ease.

They ran with their comatose general as the remaining Sotek caste warriors died in their defense. The Skink priest sensed another welling of dark power. Before he could even think of drawing the power to fight it, another priest shut it down. The air crackled with static electricity.

Thank you Attakur, I owe you one.

Seeing General Ralask's unconscious body, a badly battered spawning of Saurus numbering only eleven remaining warriors, charged the elves pursuing Lazho and Ralesk. Their fight was hopeless, but it would buy Lazho a bit more time to put some distance between him and his pursuers.

A flash of lightning struck, but it landed many yards away from the nearest elf. Lazho looked and saw a dark smoking crater surrounded by dead Skinks.

Mahrlect Attakur. I always said you shouldn’t try the risky spells...

His unit ran past a dead Salamander filled with so many arrows it looked like a Razordon. Nearby Tok, Klodorex’s oldest Stegadon, was doing much better having routed the remnants of the infantry unit she was fighting but all the Skinks nearest to her were dead or panicking. In a minute, the Stegadon team would be surrounded.

Lazho was at last surrounded by friends but not foes, but for how long he didn’t know. The strengthening spell was fading, and Lazho’s arms were aching. The Skinks had to unceremoniously lower their greatest leader down into the mud. A pair of Kroxigors were already approaching. Without needing to be issued an order, they scooped up the Saurus Old Blood and bounded off to Klodorex.

The Kroxigors didn’t notice that they dropped the Mace of the Carnosaur, but that wasn’t a problem. Two Skinks could carry it without a lot of difficulty.

Many of the First were still fighting but there was no way they could win this. At this point all they could do was lessen their casualties. He looked for the nearest Skink chief.

“Sound a general retreat.”

He turned towards the surviving Scar Veteran and the largest spawning of Saurus Warriors still intact.

“Screen our retreat as long as you can, then get out yourself. Ralesk is depending on you.”


Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut


The battle was over. It was all Othorion could do to restore order. Troops were milling about chaotically, clumsily tending to their wounded, playing with the Lizardmen’s wounded and scavenging the Lizardmen dead for jewelry or trinkets. Two soldiers had died looking for trinkets. Somehow, they managed to prick themselves with poisoned darts while looking for treasure. They were two of Dothorias’ men, naturally. He wasn’t even bothering to rein his men in. He was riding a horse around the battle, stoking cheers like he we was in a victory parade.

A lieutenant approached Othorion.

"Sir, we lost two hundred fourteen men, eleven horses, seven Cold Ones and both hydras. About seventy men are wounded. We count seven hundred sixty-seven dead or captured among the Lizardmen including their infantry and beasts. Half of their biggest creatures got away but we killed nearly all of their smaller beasts"
"Good, get me a more complete tally on our wounded. If they are likely to recover they can fall back to our baggage train. If they are not likely to make it, I'm sure Desiele could find a use for them."

Desiele was examining a blackened crater. She turned to see Othorion studying her.

“The Skink miscast a lightning spell. I am glad he is no longer among the living, but the Sisterhood offered me a sizeable reward if I could get one of the Skink priests’ bodies mostly intact…” she explained.
“You said there were three or four, only one died?” Dothorias asked, careful to keep his tone light and non-accusatory.
“There were four. I’m sure of that now. Two dead, two escaped,” Desiele said. She pointed at one of her assistants and he moved aside. There was a cart with specimens that resembled the enemy sorceresses. Visible was a mangled Skink body adorned in feathers and jewelry.
“That one was savaged by Cold Ones before I could retrieve the corpse. I doubt the body is worth much now, but the lizard’s possessions may be worth something.”
“We’ll have more opportunities to get you a better specimen. Our men can certainly use rest, but every moment we rest, is a moment that the Lizards can also use to rest and regroup as well. What do your auguries say?”

Desielle paused in thought. She motioned for Dothorias to follow. Once assured by the surgeon that a particular spearmen had no chance of seeing the next morning, Desielle motioned for him to be brought out. She called for a wounded Skink that the soldiers were playing with as well.

She proceeded to cut open the torso of both unfortunate soldiers before mixing the entrails together. Othorios didn’t know if she was really reading omens or using common sense, but either way, he valued Desielle’s advice. After a long pause, the sorceress spoke again.

“If we press on now we will reach the Lizardmens’ small city just after nightfall. The darkness is not our ally. The superior range of our crossbows and ballista mean little if we cannot see what we are shooting at. The shadows of the city conceal our foes. They certainly know the layout of their home far better than we. Ambush is likely for us at night. We will have the fewest losses if we fight them at high noon.”
“We attack at high noon then. We camp here. With those trees behind us, the enemy scouts will not be able to circle us.”

 

[Scalenex]

Mountain of Gold, Part Three
(the western fields)

Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut

It was two hours past noon when the dark elves reached the farmlands outside the small Lizardmen city. It would take at least an hour to get the army to the city proper. An intolerable delay. Each hour before nightfall was precious. Dothorias was no help at all motivating the men to move faster.

The soldiers were clearly tense. It was rare for dark elves encountered Lizardmen farms. No one knew if the Lizardmen would draw their line here or not.


Lazho, Klodorex's High Priest of Itzl
(roughly four hours earlier)

“We cannot afford to lose any of our fields!” shouted Keekar the Skink Chief.
“We can afford to lose all of our fields!” Lazho retorted.
“We have thousands of mouths to feed.”
“We can send more foraging parties, and the root crops are nigh invulnerable!”
“Plants invulnerable?!?”
“They are out to kill our people not our plants. Every moment they are digging up undergrown potatoes gives us more time to prepare defenses.”
“It won’t matter if we starve to death.”
“Dead First don’t need food! Focus on the more pressing issue of the upcoming invasion. I’m tired of wasting time with you.”
“I’m going to defend all our fields regardless of what you say.”

The Skink chief stormed off.

“Stubborn as a Stegadon and almost as smart…” Lazho muttered.

Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut

The cornstalks were not at their full height, but they could hide the smaller Lizardman if they crouched. You put nearly a hundred Skinks in a cornfield, someone is going to get spotted though.

Once they were spotted, Dothorian halted the line.

“Halt march! Death rain make ready! Fire!” Dothorian ordered as drummers relayed the commands across the battle lines.

Over two hundred bolts rained down on their location. The lizards were expecting this. As one, the Skinks raised their shields. Only three or four Skinks were actually struck.

Far too few skirmishers for a frontal assault, they weren’t counting on getting spotted this soon.

Roaring and hissing, the Skinks charged the elven lines. Dothorias smiled.

“Fire at will!” Dothorias ordered.

Shields forward, the Skinks sprinted forward. Out of five score Skinks, barely two dozen made it close enough to actually throw their javelins. Three crossbowmen succumbed to their wounds and poison. The Elves answered back cutting down half of them. The survivors routed.

Dothorias wondered if Desielle could have killed the remainder. He turned to see she wasn’t even watching, her eyes had rolled back into her head.

“What are you doing?” Dothorias demanded.

She shook herself out of her trance.

“Looking for the Slann. I cannot tell you how many lesser lizards are hiding in the in the field but the toads are nowhere near us.”
"Good, then go kill some Skinks.”

She gestured over the light green corpses.

“I think your men did fine on their own. I don’t want to announce my position until I have to.”

Dothorias nodded. Three men for fifty was a good trade.

“Resume march!”



Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut

The rear of the battle line was well within the cornfields by now, visibility was poor but the whole army hadn’t face anything tougher than another squad of additional Skinks with suicidal courage. The Skinks took out another six men but they were all dead.

A few dog sized reptiles bounded up to the elves curiously. They were killed easily. A lot of the men with swords were hacking down corn stalks as they marched.

Many of the men were getting out torches, Dothorias’ men were getting out torches. The fields were interspersed with some flimsy unmanned towers on stilts. The Elves didn’t know what these were for but a few men had pulled out hatchets and were working on chopping them down. Others were preparing torches

Othorion sought out his counterpart.

“Stop this waste of time! We cannot afford to take a break to burn their crops. We need to get to the base of the mountain before nightfall and can brook no delays!”

Dothorias shrugged.

“The Lizardmen are broken now. Why not let the men have some fun? All the Lizardmen can do is watch. We’ve won, the Lizardmen are no threat to any of us now”

Othorion ordered the march increase speed, but Lord Dothorias countermanded him. Othorion stormed off fuming.

Lazho, Klodorex's High Priest of Itzl
(Approximately three hours earlier).

“Lazho, do you remember the bare spot where we never got anything to grow in the western fields?” priest Tokro asked.
“No, I’m not familiar with that? Why are you asking me something this banal? The enemy will be here any minute!” Lazho spat
“There was some iron ore there we decided it wasn’t worth it to have Kroxigors dig it out.”
“So?!?”
“It’s a conductor.”

Othorion, Dread Lord of House Rasoirhaut

“Something is wrong.” Desiele said quietly.

Half a minute later the sky darkened and thundered. Lightning arced across the ground around the back of the marching column. A minute later the sky was clear and silent.

Desiele was shouting incantations and trying to mystically strike down a band of Skinks that had sneaked to the edge of the elven lines and having no luck.

Othorion turned to smoking crater. Dothorias was charred to a crisp along with his horse and at least twelve of his bodyguards. I should thank the Lizardmen, I can lead the army without distractions now.

He ordered men to salvage what they could from the dead. Eventually Desiele returned.

“He got away. He had a dispel scroll or magic version of whatever Skinks use instead of scrolls. Clay tablets with toad feces smeared on it maybe?”

She walked up to Dothorian’s charred bones atop his dead horse, an emotionless expression on her face.

“That’s too bad. The Army of Naggoroth lost a fine war horse today.”

 

[Aginor]

Gah... I still haven't read this.
Reminder @Aginor to read this!

 

[Aginor]

I now read through the chapters I previously hadn't read.
Nice work all in all, an enjoyable read.

The last part sounds a bit rushed though, at least to me.
Are you impatient to get to the rest of the story?

 

[Scalenex]

The last part sounds a bit rushed though, at least to me.
Are you impatient to get to the rest of the story?

Yes, I was impatient. I'm not the best with transitions, that's part of the reason why the installments are coming so slow.

The real action is on the mountain, but I have to get the characters to the mountain and appropriately set the stakes and establish the characterization for my main cast.

More is coming I promise...soon eventually.