A Call From Atop The World

[Ninjay 1184]

 

As he stared at the path - the beginning of that trek up to the snowy peak above, beginning in that frozen, ruined fort - an unfamiliar thought was on Jay’s mind.

 

Worth.

 

Was he worthy?

It was never something he had wondered before. No one whom he had ever endeavored to speak with had made him think such. It mattered little to him what they were. Rulers or nobles of some realm.  Famed individuals. Draconic cultists and philosophers. Even an arch lich on one occasion, though he had not known it. Little had ever stopped him from approaching and trying to speak. And so far, he had tended to be successful. Most were willing to speak with him, of ignorance and low birth, without much question or issue.

Perhaps it was just luck, and if he traveled about more he would encounter those less reciprocal to friendliness from a wanderer such as himself. But he was certain that, until now, the rank or position or notoriety of those he approached had never dissuaded him. They were (mostly) mortal souls such as himself. Capable of feeling, bleeding, and existing in much the same manner as he did. With this in mind, what question of worth was there to have? Was he not an equal to them all on the grand cosmic scale?

 

As he found himself ascending further into the snow-coated mountain range, the wind began to truly chill, and clouds obscured the view of the lands below. He was thankful for the cloak he bore, doubly so for the magic imbued within it that kept him warmed in such an environment.

 

But this? Him? It felt different. The mortality of this one, this being, was of doubt. Mortals did not fly, did not manifest, did not bend reality to such an extent. There were some who came close, but none he had seen did so with as much grandeur. As much purpose. As much divinity.

A conversation with a dragonkin echoed in his head, perhaps paraphrased, but the information imparted was still clear.

Physical manifestations of concepts. Courage, Fate, Justice, Ruin, Order. . .

- A list of concepts, which could surely stretch on -

Made flesh. Given form, consciousness, agency.

Would approaching such be the same as speaking to another person? Surely not.

But the champion of Order had been struck down. By another being of similar stature and capabilities, of course, but struck down nonetheless. And despite this, order remained, and anarchy did not rule the day. The concept persisted, while the life which represented it concluded, despite its supposed immortality.

Maybe they are not as far off from us as I think them to be?

Some other bits of that conversation came to mind as well, along with some other experiences, but the questions stemming from such were part of what spurred him to take this journey in the first place.

 

His hike came to a halt far up into the snow and rock. Before him sat the remnants of a bridge that once stretched over some deep chasm. On either side, all that remained was some debris strewn about or logged in the crags of the cliff side that dropped into the abyss below. Though annoying, it was of scarce consequence. He had scaled much before, from other mountains to palace walls. This would not be something to stop him now. That said, he still cursed under his breath at the inconvenience.

 

Amidst his perilous descent from the one side and ascension of the other, his thoughts resumed. Now, he started listing off those he knew of whom that being of interest consorted with or visited with some degree of frequency.

 

The noble youth, grappling with the wrongs, whims, and sins of their family.

 

The mighty Thegn, of equal renown and infamy across the land.

 

The faithful flocks of Numendil.

 

A handful of devout and faithful Canonists, seeking to follow the will of God.

 

Do they have something I do not? Does something make them worthy, which I lack?

 

To himself, he lacked much of that possessed by those he thought of. 

No noble lineage. 

Some reputation, though it paled in comparison to most notables. 

Faith? . . . Again some, though nothing as devout as many others.

 

But, he decided, it mattered not. To turn back now would be a waste of the journey. He finished the scramble up the cliff side, and now found himself on the final stretch of the path upwards. He was above the clouds now; thin and bitterly cold air bit at both his skin and lungs. It bore no importance nor achieved any dissuasion. He pressed onward, continuing past the long-frozen remnants of others who had traversed up the mountain before him.

 

Thoughts went quiet as the peak neared. Try as he might, he could not reach it - a frigid chill seeped through the many layers he wore, and made reaching the true summit an impossibility. The summit could wait for another day, though. He was high enough.

 

Before speaking any further, he spent a moment taking in the view. Some of the clouds had cleared, and from this spot so high up much of Ailmere lay within sight. To his south, he could even make out the silhouettes of towers and buildings within the spectral smog of Lumbridge.

If there’s one thing I don’t lack, it’s some shared enemies.

 

He inhaled.

 

 

Successful or not, the deed was done. Jay sat then on a bit of stone that was not blanketed in snow or sleet, and allowed himself some moments of rest. As he produced some materials for a campfire, he wondered whether or not this excursion would bear any fruit. The kindling became a small flame, struggling against the thin air. He stared off into the distance, waiting.