Ljúfvina lofted a crate with the assistance of one of her many tribes-kin, aiming to ready their camp. The woman, weary by nature, felt a familiarity with the mountain, akin to a land once known as Karkossa. No joy, no point of calm, no hope. Only the primal yearning for survival and knowledge. As that crude broil in her heart continued to churn, and the briefest of flickers within her soiled soul sparked, she'd turn her visored gaze to the summit ahead. The Age of the Dragon, unbeknownst to her, had arrived.