Legends of the mountain spoke to its immense size, and they truly did not exaggerate. Even though one might easily discern it from a vast portion of the continent, one could begin to truly comprehend how enormous it is when standing by its base. It is fitting that the peak of the mountain was chosen as the seat of the followers of the sun, for there is no place where one is closer to it on Valoran.
Around the base of the mountain, the terrain was unassuming, as if the small forests and ordinary plains were unaware of how vastly they were dwarfed by the enormous mountains that were behind them. The peak of even the smallest of mountains beside the monstrosity that was Mount Targon reached to the clouds. It was unthinkable that anyone could live in such a place, save for the fact that thousands did.
Rakkor civilization upon the mountain was indiscernible from where the party stood. It seemed impossible, that any mortal being of flesh and bone could tame the mountain and call it their home. None would even believe it lest they saw and touched the very buildings in which the Rakkor lived, to ensure what their eyes saw was not a manifestation of their imagination.
It was in the shadow of the mountain that the party stood.
Post by Carell Wollcroft on Aug 1, 2014 22:05:04 GMT -5
It had been several days travel from their starting point outside Demacia to reach the mountain. Carell had taken a similar route several times before, however, he always returned with nothing to show for it, forced away by the inhabitants to whom he was not kin, and therefore not welcome. This time, perhaps, it might be different. Carell had spent years planning this, and hopefully his planning would prove itself worthwhile and he would not gather the attention of the watchful eyes of the Rakkor.
Mounted upon his horse, he lead the group in their column down along the seldom used road that gradually made its way toward the mountain. They would soon take a side path away from the mountain, and toward their intended destination. Carell was finding it difficult to focus on the journey he was still undertaking, so great was his desire to finally set his eyes upon the ancient temple of which the map spoke. He turned over his head to address his rather odd, but still valued and useful collection of hired help. "We will be turning off the road soon. We should avoid the Rakkor completely and continue on without issue. In the event that we do encounter them, please allow me to handle the situation and do your best not to look hostile." Carell hoped that what would occur would be the former, although he had still planned for the latter.
Ron moved along with the pack around the middle of the column. In the past days he tried to gather as much supplies as he could and even tried asking some of the party members to assists. Either way, if he got assistance or not, he managed to get a handful of herbs and he later spent the nights drying them by the campfire, being careful so they may not burn or lose their effectiveness too much. The large horse wasn't comfortable to the yordle one bit. Not only he needed assistance to get on the horse itself, the ride was bumpy the he couldn't reach the leg area and thus was stuck between the column and had his horse tied to the one before him.
When they reached the mountain, Ron was quite amazed. He could barely see from side to side and couldn't even see the top of it. "You can't see things like this in Bandle. Maybe I should take Jaslene sightseeing one day." He said to himself, thinking about his friend back in Bandle City. As they continued up he opened a book and started reading on the Rakkor. They seem to be a fierce, hardy people that somehow managed to survive on this mountain. Props to them, it looks hard. He read a bit more while the column advanced.
Post by Richard "Scrod" Wiedemann on Aug 2, 2014 17:14:09 GMT -5
"Just 'cuz we ain't got no scruples don't mean the feelin's mutual on their side. What's the plan when they try n' kick us down the path we just went up n' came?" Scrod called to Wollcroft, adjusting himself to get more comfortable on top of one of the horses that had been provided. He didn't know much about the mountains or it's people. What limited knowledge he did have were based of word of mouth from stories and tales none of which painted a very bright picture of the war fanatic culture their society revolved around. Of course that could all be exaggeration and tall tales...at least to some degree. He couldn't imagine what'd it'd take to be able to survive and sustain an entire civilization full of people on such a large and precarious mountain.
"The charm o' fishin's that it's the pursuit o' sumthin' elusive but attainable..."
Post by Carell Wollcroft on Aug 2, 2014 19:29:23 GMT -5
Again, Carell had hoped that it would not come to a direct encounter with the Rakkor, but he had planned for it. It seemed as if others shared the concern. After all, the Rakkor were not renowned for their hospitality. Carell turned his head back over his shoulder to reply to Scrod. "If it comes down to that, Mr. Wiedemann, please allow me to deal with the situation. I should be able to convince them to allow us to pass by the mountain, if not, there are other paths we can take. We do not want to be hostile to these people." Carell sounded very certain of himself as he spoke, but of course, some doubts remained in his mind. Convincing a notoriously stubborn warrior people to allow them to pass unmolested through their territory would be difficult, at best. Carell hoped that his silver tongue would prove enough.
Nothing ever truly went entirely according to plan. The trail proved itself to be quiet for several minutes longer, and it almost seemed as if nothing would happen, and that Carell's fears were simply unjustified paranoia. The actual turn of events had it otherwise.
A hundred meters ahead of them, the road was blocked by a solid wall of shields and spears wielded by a line of soldiers stretching from one side of the roadside forest to the other. A few steps ahead of them stood a man clad in a mix of hard leather and steel scales with an elegantly black and crimson plumed bronze helmet, carrying a large ovular shield in one hand and a short sword in the other.
"Halt!" came the command from the officer that shattered the relative peaceful tranquility of the air up until that point. He began to take several steps forward toward the man who looked to be leader of the column, Carell Wollcroft.
Post by Carell Wollcroft on Aug 2, 2014 19:49:51 GMT -5
In an instant, Carell's next to worst case scenario materialized itself. He had hoped that he would evade the watchful eye of the Rakkor, but no such luck. At least his absolute worst case of an outright assault on them had not occurred. For that, at least, he was grateful. He turned to face his party, his expression now deadly serious.
"Stay here and let me speak to the man." He hoped, for the well being of everyone there, that they would not take that as a suggestion. Carell carefully dismounted his horse and ensured he was unarmed before he began to approach the man. They stopped at the middle ground of the distance between the two parties and began to speak, their exact words indiscernible, but at the least they seemed to be negotiating with level voices.
Ron's heart rose up his throat and quickly fell down to his behinds when he finally noticed the phalanx row. He thought he heard something weird moments before the column stopped but he wasn't sure if it was important enough. He placed his hand above his eyes to avert some of the light as he squinted to see the Rakkors better. When he had, he made a sound similar to a "meep" and moved into a defensive position unconsciously, placing his hands before him, all while letting go of his book and dropping it on the ground beneath the horse.
Post by James Marker on Aug 2, 2014 20:41:47 GMT -5
James had been riding quietly, occasionally taking a brief pause to sketch out one of the faces in the party, but always on the lookout not too far behind Scrod. When they got to Targon, he looked up at the mountain, shielding his eyes from the sun before turning back to the ground. "Beautiful. I wish we had time to enjoy the view," he commented to himself.
He became extra wary when they took the side path, and when the Rakkor phalanx stood strong his unspoken fears were realized. He didn't say anything, but merely rode his horse up to the front of the party to replace Carrel's, ready to defend him if need be. However, on the inside, he was shaking, regardless of his dauntless visage; the leader of the Rakkor involved alone could likely destroy all of them singlehandedly, save Xerath and Orianna. The most he could hope to do in an emergency was at least buy time for the others.
I will meet one someday...and that day will either be the best or worst day of my life.
Ron's keen yordle ears would be the only ones able to pick up on the conversation of Carell and the Rakkor officer other than their own. Were he to listen, he would hear their words.
"Why have you come here?" The hard voice of the officer was the first one to be heard.
"My apologies, o filos mou, but we were just-" Carell was abruptly cut off.
"I am not o filos sas, foreigner. Why are you here?" Carell might have been more knowledgeable than most regarding the Rakkor, but he underestimated how little superfluous language meant to them.
"My apologies again, kyrie. My party and I are a group of hired hands, some for combat and some for their expertise in ancient knowledge, and we were on our way to an excavation along the Great Barrier, a historical site of the people of Shurima, kyrie. We thought that we might take a shortcut to reach it, but we must have accidentally trespassed upon your territory. With your permission, kyrie, we would like to continue a short distance down this road and then turn off of it toward our intended destination." Carell did his best to sound apologetic, and treated the officer with the utmost respect, invoking Rakkor titles of respect to try to garner favor with the man.
"Why does an excavation require mercenaries?" It was impossible to tell if the man was swaying in Carell's favor or not, for he showed no emotion in his steeled expression or in his voice.
"For the trip, kyrie. There are bandits roaming some of the roads we have taken, and I wished to ensure we arrived unharmed."
"Take another path to your excavation. You are not welcome here." With that, the officer placed a steel wall in the conversation between Carell and the free passage he sought. Passing it would be a true challenge of his skill with words.
Last Edit: Aug 2, 2014 20:54:39 GMT -5 by Narrator
Ron's ears perked up at the conversation and he heard most of it. Carell wasn't completely honest as Ron was told they'd have no problems with the Rakkor. Even though the conversation was short and the to point, Ron couldn't understand if the officer understood that o filos mou meant "My Friend" in the foreign language. As a graduate of the yordle academy in Bandle, Ron was bound to know at least a few expressions of several languages.
He kept listening to the conversation. He understood Carell was trying to kiss up to the officer to let them move but he obviously failed, at least that's what Ron heard.
"W-we should turn around." He said in a leveled voice to the expedition members around him, trying to make sure the Rakkor won't hear him. "He's n-not gonna let us p-pass." Ron reached to his wallet and checked some pictures of his friends in Bandle, as well as his research goal. "I'm n-not so sure w-what about you, but I don't want to die by the hands of s-some humans in skirts. At l-least not so soon."
Post by Razie Tynerson on Aug 2, 2014 22:01:59 GMT -5
For most of the journey to their current destination Razie had been fiddling with his Giga-Shield with the supplies he brought from Piltover, he didn't exactly know how much more he could put into it as far as shielding distance goes but with the limited workspace and cautious environment of a few shady characters. Unfortunately he didn't get a chance to make acquaintance with Orianna's technology otherwise he could have made better results.
When they arrived at the wall of shields and spears he noted that he should try his best to not look aggressive, that part was easier said than done for him, what wasn't so easy was looking harmless. He had a look that was highlighting his intelligence, watching Carell make conversation with the Rakkor that blocked their path. He wasn't exactly sure how their customs went in terms of passing travelers, his guess was they didn't exactly like outsiders passing through their territory.
Overhearing Ron express his feelings on the current situation he knelt and tapped him on the shoulder. "Yordle hearing comes in handy, what did you hear him say exactly?" He asked calm, pushing down his goggles and taking a quick look to Carell and the Rakkor.
Post by Richard "Scrod" Wiedemann on Aug 2, 2014 22:10:20 GMT -5
"I don't think it matters. Passin' here or not we'll get to where we gotta go...without dyin' I might add. I might be old but I ain't got no intention on dyin' on some mountain where a man can't so much as get a drink when he pleases" Scrod said assuredly as he dismounted his horse and walked up to the front of the troupe where one of the other mercenaries, James, had gone up to in Carel's place.
He scratched at his beard a bit nervously at the situation. Though he doubted Carell would do anything to actually start a conflict the position they were in was still a bit precarious. "Though, if I was a bettin' man I'd have a pretty penny on us takin' an unwanted detour real soon..." he said peering over to where Carell and the leader of the phalanx were talking. He couldn't hear a word they were saying but based on the yordles reaction and their body language whatever was going on didn't seem to be going in their favor.
Ron turned around to find the other sane Piltovian tapping his shoulder. In reply to his request he turned a bit and starting recalling the conversation quickly. "T-they... I-I mean C-Carell... N-no the big man in the s-skirt talking to C-Carell first asked w-what we're doing here. Then C-Carell apologized to him and told called him a "friend" in a foreign l-language that I don't t-think the officer t-took kindly to. H-he then lied to the officer saying that w-we're on our way t-to Shurima to excavate a-and that the mercenaries h-here are against b-bandits." Ron was shaking quite a bit. "T-the Rakkor w-won't less us pass t-the road. Ron concluded.
Post by The Lady of Clockwork on Aug 3, 2014 0:46:48 GMT -5
Orianna never knew how to ride a horse.
Which is why she had to walk the entire way on foot. The automaton girl minded not - concepts of exhaustion were lost on her, a mechanism. She was ready to walk days and nights without rest, stopping only to wind up that giant key sticking out of her back - the only element in her body she was unable to pass for something human.
So far, the journey had been ... uneventful, for the most part.
Sightseeing was fun, for a while, and a welcomed change in comparison to being bottled in a room back at the Institute of War. The landscapes, rocks, trees, lakes... Orianna did not get the opportunity to see them often. But ... it was not why she joined the expedition. She was promised fights, many of them! With bandits and mercenaries likely to attack the group on the way. But so far they did not run into any. And while the automaton girl didn't express anything in particular about it, yet, the Ball was getting wary, crackling with electricity stored inside of it.
- The Ball is impatient.
Socializing did not go too well either - most people within the group found her eerie and disturbing. So for the most part Orianna kept close to the resident techmaturgist, Razie his name. The only person in the group who seemed to tolerate the automaton girl's odd demeanor and manners. That, and Xerath. Although the Magus was too often buried deep within his thoughts.
When mount Targon came in sight, the automaton could feel the excitement return to her once more. She did not know much about the place, except that it was home for Pantheon and Leona. Thus meaning it would provide tons of challenges! Eager to meet them head-on, Orianna moved from the back of the column towards the middle of it, when the group suddenly came to a stop. In a distance, she could see a detachment of soldiers with shields and spears. Her eyes started glowing ... brighter.
- This is very exciting. These men look like Pantheon. I hope they fight like him.
Her metallic voice crackled from behind, as she approached the group of people piled up in the middle. The technician, the furry doctor, the pirate and the demacian soldier being among them. The Ball hovered behind her, looking more menacing than usual, small jolts of electricity crackling around it. The living things seemed to be somewhat wary of the encounter.
- If we find no detour, can we fight them?
The question wasn't addressed to anyone in particular. The automaton sounded almost ... hopeful.
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