Thread: Awakening  (Steel Quill and TennTenshie)

Bander knew he'd have this mountain. He knew it when he'd first asked about it, months back at the roadside cafe. The chatty cook informed him that, to the best of his knowledge, nobody'd ever bothered to get past the forested area around it, much less bother scaling the steep, unforgiving, and untamed mountain. As far as the cook was concerned, trying to do so was tantamount to suicide, and, even if accomplished, would be an altogether empty and unrecognized accomplishment. Even the surrounding areas are pretty unoccupied, so its not like somebody would gain media attention or anything of value. At most, youd gain a few injuries and something to feel nice about. A challenge without reward, and one with limited hope. Which is exactly the challenge Bander couldn't resist. Ever since he was young, he had to seek out bigger, more dangerous challenges. He didn't always succeed, but that usually just forced him to try again with reborn determination and fury. When he was younger, he'd climb trees or catch frogs. As he grew, so did his objectives, until they led him here, somewhere between eleven and twelve thousand feet up, trying to decide whether or not he should keep up his ascension, or spend a few hours finding a place to recover and repair some of his materials. When pick-head started to loosen itself from the handle, it seemed like the decision was made for him. Fifty more feet up, he found what seemed to be a scraggly little goatpath, which was a pleasant relief for his arms. He'd been climbing the better part of the past week, and had been noticing a growing difficulty with continuing on each day. He was slowing down, losing momentum, and breaking equipment, so maybe a day or so to find a nice cavity or flat and set up camp is what he needed. He'd seen a few mountain goats on his way up, and some sort of big cat a few days prior, but wildlife never seemed to harass him when he was on an expedition. He liked to imagine that even the beasts could sense his determination and strength, and steered clear of it. More likely was the fact that he made lots of noise and most critters tend to avoid people when possible. Even natural predators have learned, with time, that anything walking on two legs had a tendency to be trouble, and it was true enough. If a mountain lion or a lynx decided to make a move, Bander kept a revolver on his hip, though he's proud to have never needed to use it. Despite his tenacity and powerful drive, he was really a peaceful person. After following the goatpath a good 80 yards or so, he came upon what seemed to be a godsend a large, dry, and surprisingly clean cave. A precise hand produced a flashlight, sending piercing light deep into the cavern. When it revealed, again, nothing, Bander let out a sigh, and he ran a hand through coarse brown hair, before allowing his bag to slip to the ground with a low thump in the corner. In order to ensure a wandering goat or cat didn't bother the place while he was out, he set up a few lengths of twine at varying heights across the cave entrance. They were very light in color, and very sturdy. It wouldn't prove lethal or harmful to anything moving at a comfortable speed, but it would certainly trip up any trespassing critters. Stepping delicately between the gaps, he took up his smaller pack and set out to see if he could find a mountain stream, or perhaps a few unlikely fruit bearing trees. Despite being untamed and dangerous, this particular mountain climb was surprisingly gentle. The grassy expanses far outnumbered the rock faces, and if one knew the lay of the land, they probably could get as far much faster, and without as much risk. Risk, of course, was the main draw for Bander, so he didnt mind. The plantlife was varied and unfamiliar, but some general knowledge and a little bit of luck usually kept him clear of poisons or rashes. After a few minutes of descending along safer paths and moving between various shrubs and stones eventually produced a light stream. It looked remarkably clear, and was probably quite clean, but when he lowered himself down, he still took care to pump his canteens full through a filter. When he finished, he took a moment to cup the clear liquid between his hands and rinse his face. It had been nearly a week since hed last bathed, and while this stream was nowhere near suited for bathing, it couldnt hurt to rinse himself down a little bit. After a good amount of time removing the grit from his face and hands, he stood up and decided to follow the stream in hopes of finding food plants. He still had a good amount of food saved up in MRE packets and dried eggs and fruit, but something fresh would be extremely appreciated. He sampled a few berries as he went, but nothing really struck him as too appealing. He continued on like this for at least an hour and a half, before the stream disappeared into a rocky roadblock, and the path alongside it became less hospitable. He got back to his cave and was glad to see that his precautions of twine were unneeded, nothing seemed to have gotten into his bag, and all the strands were still up. He undid them and left them hanging from one side of the looming entrance, in case he felt the need to put them up again. It was spring, and noon, so he didnt feel the need to start any fire, though he did take the initiative to gather a few broken branches and memorized the places where he could go to retrieve larger logs and more long-term fuel later, for the night. For the moment, he decided to rest. The cave offered decent shade from the sun, and the only noise were those unavoidable ones of nature. His shoulders were sore and he had just opened a bag of dried fruit, so for the moment, he was fine. Unaware of the thin blood trail that meandered through his cave, but fine nonetheless.