P-Jay

The cat smiled sheepishly. "Hey...It's for my kid sibling, surely you can let me just have a skim over your territory." He took a step forward. "Lemme just poke around a bit, wont even take a day." Mousepaw growled, taking a step forward towards the rouge. "We don't have time to humor someone like you, now beat it!"

The cat approached them, just behind their border, on Thunderclan territory, and smiled pleasantly from where he was. "...Heyo!" He called out, waving a paw slightly. "I'm looking for someone, a kitten, about ye tall--" he gestured the height with his tail, "--obnoxious fellow, orange-pelted. You seen him?" Mousepaw narrowed her eyes, backing slightly behind Featherfur. "I don't like him." She muttered.

"A good story, disturbs the comfortable, and comforts the disturbed." ~idfk

@@The Down Trotten, @@DwhitetheGamer, As the trio would continue their trek onward to the mountain, they would find that the grass would begin to appear greener, fresher. The trees, taller, stronger. The very wind, cleaner, crisper. Almost as if the area was giving the group one last look at a joyful environment, before whatever would be revealed on the mountain. It felt almost like the calm, before a storm, before the cave Rhetoric was informed of, came into view in the distance. It looked normal, like any other cave in the world, even. But the defining feature wasn't the cave itself--it was the immediate ground around it--swords, stuck into the ground like pincushions, surrounded the entrance, obviously marking the cave as a dangerous exploration to take. Everywhere else, was simple paths leading either away, or towards the cave. There were no hopes, for circling around, to avoid the interior altogether--it seemed one must go through the dwelling, before arriving at the base of the mountain itself. A broken slab of stone was placed alongside the swords, near it... @, Likely, to Mori alone, the chanting of the spirits around her would begin to feel layered. As if there were more then what she normally had--before seeing a group, in front of her. It wouldn't last long, barely even five seconds, but the vision would be clear. She was seeing a moment of the past. A group of friends, companions, trekking towards the mountain. It seemed whatever magic the mountain housed, stretched it's influence even beyond it's base. A large-muscled minotaur led the group, wearing traditional armor, battered and worn--he radiated such authority, one couldn't help but associate him as the leader of the group. Followed closely by a griffon clad in foreign armor, sword at his side, shield coating his wing. Another griffon, in dark leather padding, bow slung over his back, and markings of various kills on his person, trailed behind the two. A knight, and a hunter, respectively. Behind them, ponies followed--one with minimal armor, and a blade, another with a thick pelt, and greathammer on his back. Both of which, looked formidable in their own right. The swordsman, and heavy. But only one, seemed to be the odd one out. A doe, that trailed behind the group, looked back momentarily. And from where she was, she just so happened to stare directly into Mori's eyes, before continuing on her way--disappearing into a mist, alongside her companions, before the glimpse to the past dispersed.

It impacted, and immediately tore straight through, spiraling a few moments even after it's force was exhausted. Moments later, sounds of leaking would be heard, as water gushed into the massive hole ripped through the hull. A light cackling sounded inside, as wheeling about was heard amongst the intense storm of sheer, unrelenting water forcing it's way into the ship--which started to sink. "Missed me..."

Mousepaw prowled alongside her mentor, keeping a watchful eye over their territory, noting how her mentor would occasionally stare at Riverclan. So she opted to mimic, snarking at the border every once in a while, as if she expected to see a badger whenever she did indeed steal a glance. "Featherfur...I see someone!" She hissed, watching a vague cat from the Riverclan territory casually making his way directly towards Windclan. A white-silver tom, with black spots on his pelt, was waltzing towards the two.

Rye woke up from his nap, looking about his surroundings lazily. Where was he, again...? Oh yeah. Riverclan territory. Or was it Thunderclan's? He didn't know--all he did know right now, was that these rocks were absolutely perfect for basking in the sun. He rolled about, on the Sunning Rocks. "...Something tells me consequence for trespassing is approaching faster then I can weasel out..." He murmured to himself, licking a paw. "...Ah, oh well."

"...I...Would prefer not to. I'm on the clock, running this inn, and truth be told I don't wanna get near that mountain. You can't miss it--a beaten path near the North of town, it'll eventually lead you towards a cave. That cave is a one-way route into it." He paused. "Don't get me wrong, I would love to accompany you, but..." He sighed. "...That kind of life scares me. A life outside my little town here."

"I dunno what you're capable of. For all we know you might be a Lord of unimaginable power, or a normal pony like you've appeared to be so far. All I do know is that very, very scarcely does someone come back down from there. It's been suicide for the past twenty or so comers, and it's just depressing to see them head towards there and not come back." "But, hey, you must have your reasons. And I can respect that."

"Take the northern path out of this place. It'll lead you to the entrance of a cave--you gotta go through there, to get to the main trail. After of which, provided there's nothing to stop you, it'll be a few days before you reach the top, if you're just walking. You can probably find berries and edibles on there, so I wouldn't worry about running out of food. At least, so I'm told." He sighed. "I really don't like knowing you're going up there. Jus' sayin'."

"...Ah. Well, can't blame a guy for tryin', eh?" He made an attempt at a smile, although, it was more likely he was thinking what flowers would look good on Rhetoric's tombstone. "Gimme a second..." He pulled a box from behind the counter, "now, my dad's a hunter, and he's recently given me a few tools to start my own hunts, but...I can just get more, eventually, you need these more then I do." He slid the box towards Rhetoric, inside of which would be a bowie knife, compass, some rope, and like he requested, a brand-new hatchet. Although, it looked like someone had combined the properties of the tomahawk into this hatchet--possibly a type of weapon native to griffons. "Best of luck, friend. I'll be praying to the gods for your return."

The griffon behind the counter blinked. "The week? I was expectin' a day, or two, three at the most..." He rubbed the back of his head. "Always thought ponies were...Ah, it doesn't matter. You've gotten me out of a chore for a week--thanks, friend. Here's your coat..." He reached into the closet, pulling out a woolen, puffy jacket--looking like what an Eskimo would wear. "As for...Wait...You're not...?" He stared for a minute. "...Ah. You, uh...Anything I can say, to change your mind about going up there?"

"Best of luck!" The griffon called out after him, as he left. Adding 'he'll definitely need it', once he was out of earshot... The inn was homely, and radiated a positive vibe. It was surprisingly stocked, as if the majority of the hamlet's people resided inside there. A younger, male griffon sat at the desk, raising an eyebrow when the newcomer asked for a jacket. He must be going up the mountain. That's why anyone ever comes around here, anyways. "Yeah, we could use some split wood. Gets cold at night this time of year, and I've kinda neglected that chore. I'll trade ya my jacket--it's pretty durable and insulates warmth well, and I just got a new one--no sense keeping both. There's an ax and logs out back, knock yourself out."

The griffon at the stand looked at him lazily, which almost immediately turned into interest when he dumped the bits onto the counter. She scooped them up, and gave him a Griffon scone in return. "Now with added hay. Tell your friends." She said, obviously trying to go for an energetic voice--but still deadpanning most of it. "I'll be waiting, young'un. It's one of the things I can do best, these days." Still chuckling, the older griffon got up, starting to shuffle back to his original seat. She cleaned a mug. "Course we take bits. We also take Leovian coins, if you have any. And with what you've got here...Well, I'll give you a discount. How's a wheel of cheese, and a loaf of bread sound? Hell, I'll throw in a little pot of honey."

"So, you're another who desires to meet the dragon. But you dont strike me as the generic warrior...You've got a different plan. Heheh...I like that." The old griffon chuckled again. "You can buy a coat, from the innkeeper--and rations are sold in this bar, by the same one who supplied your drink. I wish you luck."

, @DwhitetheGamer The stallion behind the bar whistled to himself once the two started to talk, making it a point not to get involved in whatever beef might rise. Although, considering the mare's tone, it shouldn't hit the boiling point. He set the cider in front of Memento, "the train's stopped. Just thought I'd let you two know." @J.R., @Unicorncob, The city of Griffonstone was, as usual, a slump. Broken down walls that used to be houses, shattered statues, and scattered griffons stalking about, in search of a profit. Ice, Tyra, and Lorec would be feeling watched. Judged. Their purpose in this city, questioned. Nearly all of them looked like an introvert, scavenging for whatever might be of use, on their own. A few intact houses, that were obviously occupied, and loosely guarded against visitors, was seen in the area--but for the most part, it looked as if this place held next to no possible businesses. There was a stand, in which a griffon was selling baked rocks ('Now with added hay for flavor!'), but there wasn't much any else for buying anything. Although, one could probably persuade a griffon to abandon a meal, in exchange for bits... The tavern of the town was the only spot that could barely be passed as social. But even then, no-one inside it spoke a word to eachother.

"Sure bud." He shuffled around behind the bar, pouring the tea, and serving it up before hearing talking. Looking at the direction, and frowning when he only saw a mare. Strange, he could've sworn he heard that mare talking to someone else. But, considering how he occasionally got a visit from the shadows, talking to a being no-one else could see was nothing new. At least, to him. "Ma'am, I have a lot of drinks, it depends on what your preference is. Here, I'll scrap up a menu..." He slid the plastic towards her. "Though, if I'm being honest, you look like a cider pony to me." "See, once we settled here, two generations later...A dragon made an appearance. It was huge, gargantuan, enough so to cast a shadow over our settlement. Blocking out the sun, as it flew into the mountain. It had to blow off the tip, to fit in, or so the stories say. That's when griffons started to make it a point, a challenge, to climb the mountain." "Records claim that the dragon was a wyrm, with a size that allowed it to blow apart cities with minimal effort. Larger then normal dragons, and it was supposedly in it's early adolescent stage." "It was then that the legends surrounding the mountain became labeled as true. This dragon was no stranger to the magic arts--it's mountain was in tune with it's own power, and as a result, the land became as deadly as the fury of a dragon's wrath." "Now...We named it Mount Kaalro, because in Griffonstone, we used to have a philosophy...That those who defeat a dragon, are recognized as champions. In the older languages spoken, Kaalro translates to Champion's. And it has been gaining infamy ever since. Most people climb it, in hopes of snagging the dragon's supposed treasure, but to us griffons...It's about seeing, if you're truly strong enough, to make a difference." "Strong enough, to become a legend."

The stallion looked over it for a minute, before looking up at him with an almost sympathetic look. But still amused, vaguely. "Bud, this expired two weeks ago. Can't serve ya, or I'll risk my job. I can still serve ya some iced tea, or maybe some cider, though. That sound good?" "Well, I suppose I'll talk about the story that came first...See, way, way back when the idol was first lost, Griffonstone started to fall apart. The city outside the kingdom was the first to fall apart. Farms dried up, streams for spearing fish became scarce, and the hunting fields became barren. Looking back on it, if we had just toughed it out that season, perhaps Griffonstone might be standing tall toady. But alas...A rebellion was formed, and declared independence from the kingdom. They set off, to find better land to live in, taking as much rations as they could when they went. If the lowered supplies hadn't been enough of a blow to Griffonstone, the loss of their farmers, cobblers, and other small-trade workers leaving was worse then pulling out the stool they were struggling to balance on." "This group that left the kingdom, journeyed north, and didn't stop until they found better land. Which happened to be here, at the base of a mountain. But...Strange things happen, near that mountain, there. Enough for stories to circulate, about some mystic force that reanimates someone into a fighting fiend, near the mountain. Of course, most beings disregard it as some folktale, but anyone who's come within a mile of that mountain'll tell you...They're real." "Which of course, brings us to our next story--Mount Kaalro's folklore. Or I guess you could call this story, a legend."

One of the griffons perked up at the mention of stories--he was dark grey, cloaked nearly completely, and looked elderly, as he shuffled to meet Rhetoric's request. Sitting in the stool next to him, and giving a smile with a cracked beak. He spoke with an scarcely used voice-box, "why, I do believe this ol' bugger has a few stories he could share. Two, that're really interesin'. I could tell you aaaall about Mount Kaalro, or about how our little hamlet in the mountains came to be." The female griffon from before set a mug of stout on the table. "First round's on me." The stallion from behind the counter--wearing a Hawaiian shirt, with a mostly brown color scheme, save for the black messy hair--looked at him over skeptically, before making a condescending smile with a raised eyebrow. "Sorry bud, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't ask for an I.D. You don't look over twenty-one."

The griffon from behind the counter--a female, with blue-and-black feathers--stared at him curiously for a moment. As if pondering why he was here, or any drives he might have. Completely oblivious to the fact that he was just lost, she smiled for a moment. "...Sure. Haven't had that order in a while, lemme see if we have any...Well, any that're fresh." She added that last comment, looking under the counter, and scowling as if she saw some sludge bubbling in a container. Hurrying to check the backroom, if they had any unopened, preserved stout. Rhetoric would start to feel watched, as he waited. Just about every being in that tavern, watching him, sizing him up, as if they all expected him to be some hero from where he hailed from...Boy were they wrong...

OOC: 'One who wields a blade, does so for only oneself. The life of a warrior is not inspired by justice, nor evil, nor moral--but the ambition to change the world. One mustn't allow one's vision to be blurred, by pain nor emotion, whilst one pursues his desires. For one's life is not ended by the pain of death. It ends, once one has abandoned his dream.' ~Griffonstone inscription, before the fall of the kingdom.

The mast would crack once, before beginning to topple over. Naturally, it tore out most of the deck it was planted in, with it. Ropes began to snap, as she lifted it more, sending various small tremors run down the wood. The ship itself seemed to rock slightly, as she wrenched it out. Hopefully, those ropes weren't needed for anything important. Meanwhile, Firebeak had climbed down to the cannon alley, making an effort to pick up a cannon from it's positioned set, and making a slow effort to drag it towards the hole he made... He frowned further, as he took time to relay the news. Anything that could change a mood like Naga's usual attitude was sure to be quite the reality check. A cold, icy feeling had started to build in his spine, as he wondered just how terrible the news might be, before the monk finally relayed his info. At first, confusion started to build, before realization hit. "Oh--him?!" He took a step back, looking slightly puzzled, trying to recall details on the Stormbringer. "Yeah, yeah, I remember...He's coming to Equestria--to Bangcolt? For me?" It was at this moment, Naga might see a flicker of doubt, that was almost immediately swallowed by a wave of determination. "Then...How long do I have, until I fight him?"

It would be slow-going, understandably, trying to punch the ship enough to make an actual difference. The more holes she made, however, the more she realized just what part of the ship she was making a hole in--grain was pouring out, dumping into the ocean. Bags, hundreds of pounds of the stuff, all leaking a steady trail out from the ship. Which in due time, might attract a hungry critter or two... But mainly, scuffling around was heard in a room a few meters away--near the middle-side of the ship, as she punched away.