-The Gods: 6 Weyland, The god of the Hunt. The god is worshipped in the far north and forest lands as the one to ensure a good and fruitful hunt. In his human days, he was a skilled hunter who tracked and killed many a beast. He also set the rules for the first organized hunts. The rules are used still today as a way to ensure that the wildlife continues but humans have enough meat to eat. Weyland lived more in tune with the cycle of nature than almost anyone of his time.-
Hector watched as the young man walked off with the cloaked figure and said a small prayer to himself. He asked the ancestors to make sure that he wasn't sending the boy off to a worse death.
He made his way back to the docks slowly, sipping rum from a bottle on the way to celebrate not having to kill the young man. At Hector's age death was a way of life, but wanton unneeded murder was something he lost the stomach for ages ago.
Pirates had a notoriously short life span, and Hector was a bit of an oddity given his advanced age. To be on the sea so long and survive to his age meant you were either a crafty son of a bitch or pragmatic enough to know that it was kill or be killed.
When he made it back to the boat a tall figure of a man met him at the gangway. "That took too damn long old man. Did you feed him dinner and wipe his ass for him before you killed him?"
Hector himself was only one-eighth demi-human. If you looked at his face you could get a glimpse of the minotaur in his ancestry. But the man standing at the end of the plank looking down was a mix unlike any other. He was most certainly at least some part Mer-Folk. The black and blue scales across his arm and neck gave that away. Other features like the bright yellow eyes and pointy ears hinted at felis.
"No sir," Hector said up to the shadowy figure. "But it never hurts to make the passing at least enjoyable."
The voice from the figure broke out in laughter. "Didn't know you floated that way, old man. I will remember that!"
Hector shook his head and threw the bottle up at the man. "Fuck off you misguided water rat! The boy is no longer your concern. If you wanted to know how it was done then you should have done it yourself. But you still won't set foot on dry land now will you?"
The man stepped out into the light and grabbed the bottle midflight. He uncorked it and poured the cheap rum down his throat before reclosing it and tucking it under his arm. "Fine, fine old man. You win this round. Just be careful before I have someone else take you out to dinner."
"Do it your damn self then." Hector smiled and made his way up the plank. "We should be ready to head south. I heard the prophet is making his way up the mountains."
The captain of the vessel took off his hat and wiped his brow. He was a lanky man and this far south he wore a thicker long coat to keep the cold sea spray off of his clothes. His brown hair was tied back in a ponytail that hung under his hat. "Funny you said that. I heard a tale that the prophet is in the glass capital again. What do you say we have a little meeting with the ones we have here and find out which is true?"
Hector nodded, trying to hide the panic at the thought of his captain realizing he hadn't fully killed the kid. "Well, we know they are headed into the mountains... If we take the sea route we should beat them by at least a few days. What say you Captain Dirge?"
The captain nodded and walked towards the stern of his vessel. He looked up at the sky as the moon was starting to glow in the edge of the sky. "Sounds like its about time we see if we can't steal from the gods..."
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Rennish was driving the cart again two days later. The back was loaded with supplies they had gathered at Ursal's store. The manager at that branch had insisted that if they were intending to make the trip south it would solve problems for both of them. The travelers could take the shipment south for him and avoid having to go into the mountain range. And they could claim the extra profit as their own without having to purchase anything directly.
Rennish regretted Ashra agreeing without having even seen the load. The boxes just barely fit and it meant that no one was sleeping in the back of the carriage on this trip.
The other problem was that they now had a fourth person tagging along. The guide was useful as he knew the major roads between The Ark and the town farthest south and closest to where this new god was supposed to be hiding out.
The problem had been solved with two large canvas tents at night. Erust and Ashra shared one and Rennish and Chester had shared another. Erust had expected a fight from Rennish. But he surprised him with a shrug and a smile.
The road south was a zig-zag up and down mountainsides with very little distance actually gained. The other major problem was that unless you found a cave you could only really camp at the top or bottoms of the roads. Stopping on the side of the mountain was a guaranteed way to get ambushed.
Small hamlets dotted the valleys between mountains as they worked their way south into the land of snow and mountains. The people of the villages were polite and welcomed the addition of a prophet and a bard. A warm night's sleep was almost always guaranteed on one of those nights in payment for entertainment.
Rennish had been practicing his own skills and using his own magic when he could. It was severely limited by the punishment put on him by Ysennia but he hoped he could expand what he could use through practice.
By the time they reached the foot of the last valley, all four of them were wearing warm clothes constantly. Even Ashra, who normally refused to wear anything more than her scarf, had bundled up against the biting wind that met them as it came down off the cold icy rocks.
Erust looked up the mountain. He stood next to Ashra and looked at the trail as it took off between two huge glacial boulders. "We made it this far didn't we?"
Ashra nodded and pulled herself into Erust side. She held onto his arm tightly and he felt her shiver just slightly. "Why would a god be born into such a forsaken place?"
"That's simple," Rennish said staring off into the distance, admiring the serene view and deeply ominous cold that radiated off the rocks ahead of them. "A divine being could move into the mountain range but almost every god lacks any kind of real power to manifest in the real world. So they rely on the ranks of the devout to carry out their will. You'd have to be absolutely nuts to march a whole group of followers this far south, just to try and walk up a mountain and kill off another divine being's followers."
Ashra leaned her head forward and looked around Erust to look at Rennish. She was surprised he knew so much about this, but it made sense when you thought about it. Bard's are supposed to be educated men, well versed in the ways of the world, and critical thinking. Rennish mostly fit that description, sometimes, when he wasn't drunk.
Erust felt Ashra lean forward and pulled her in closer. "Exactly. You'd have to be as crazy as us to think you can march four people up the side of a mountain and get rid of the newly born divine being."
Chester swallowed and tried to take a step back from the rest. "Well sounds like you don't need me...."
Rennish reached backward and grabbed the young man. "Hold on there spunky. You will guide us up to the last village and get us in. You will wait there for us and guide us back down. After we are done, then you are free to go and will get paid."
Chester swallowed hard and put his hands inside the sleeves of his coat. He was wearing his ocean coat that kept the ice-cold spray off his clothing but the wind was blowing around anywhere that wasn't sealed. "Yessir," he muttered softly hoping the wind would carry the words away and he would be free. He was born near the last village in this mountain and he had fought like hell to get away from here. He didn't want to be back.