11-26-2020, 12:09 AM
Though there is little concrete evidence I can find of their existence, the stories all agree that if there are gods here, that they are most likely to be living on the Mountain.
I had found one, a dark god, but he had given me nothing that a mortal man could not, leaving me distracted but ultimately without what I had been seeking.
To the Mountain it is then, to find these powerful creatures who reign over a world that is far fuller of devilry and magic than the wild stories of my childhood had prepared me for.
Short, strong legs carry me up the mountain, the rough rock faces no match for my dense hooves and determination. I do fall a few times, once even landing heavily on my left wing, but I do not need a wing to climb, and I pull it in close with a huff before resuming my ascent. When I can climb no further, and the air has grown so cold that I nearly forget that spring is heavy on the flatlands I have left behind, I stop.
The world falls away beside me, blurred by clouds, and I take a deep breath and call out.
“Hello?”
I wait, hearing only the absence of an echo against the stone, and try again.
“I’m not here to ask for anything,” she says, her voice no louder than conversational. If something can live at this altitude, surely it can hear over the wind. “I just want to know that you’re there. That there’s something more up here than fairy tales and legends.”
(ooc: if successful, could her “proof” be a quest that will result in getting a pair of horns to prove to her that the fairies are real? Thanks!)
I had found one, a dark god, but he had given me nothing that a mortal man could not, leaving me distracted but ultimately without what I had been seeking.
To the Mountain it is then, to find these powerful creatures who reign over a world that is far fuller of devilry and magic than the wild stories of my childhood had prepared me for.
Short, strong legs carry me up the mountain, the rough rock faces no match for my dense hooves and determination. I do fall a few times, once even landing heavily on my left wing, but I do not need a wing to climb, and I pull it in close with a huff before resuming my ascent. When I can climb no further, and the air has grown so cold that I nearly forget that spring is heavy on the flatlands I have left behind, I stop.
The world falls away beside me, blurred by clouds, and I take a deep breath and call out.
“Hello?”
I wait, hearing only the absence of an echo against the stone, and try again.
“I’m not here to ask for anything,” she says, her voice no louder than conversational. If something can live at this altitude, surely it can hear over the wind. “I just want to know that you’re there. That there’s something more up here than fairy tales and legends.”
(ooc: if successful, could her “proof” be a quest that will result in getting a pair of horns to prove to her that the fairies are real? Thanks!)
