The Battle of Death Mountain: Staging

[Erik Vrell]

Erik's grey horse emerged from the gate at full speed, the hot air whipping the psychic's face. Erik commanded his horse to stop and took in the landscape. The verse was uncomfortably hot, possibly more so than the endless dunes. Ash coated the ground in thick layers, crunching beneath the horses hooves. Erik wiped sweat from his brow and cursed his luck.

"I hate the heat." The psychic muttered as he urged his horse forwards again. "Why couldn't the dragon live somewhere nice and cold, like a mountain." Erik's horse surged forwards, closing in on the beasts lair. Soon enough, a small encampment came into view, shadowed by a massive mountain that made Erik eat his words.

"Forget I even asked." He psychic groaned as he studied the mountain. It was obviously volcanic, and seemed to have a ring of fire orbiting it's peak. Erik's horse trotted forwards into the camp. There was a small gathering of primes, including a busy looking Nealaphh. 

"Erik Vrell, reporting for duty." Erik said, bowing slightly to the god kind as he dismounted.