By many, Mount Hotan was known as the mountain of death -- a frozen wasteland inhabited by nothing but demons, renegades, and the ruins of warfare. It was the kind of place whispered about mostly in legends of prowling behemoths, snarling dragons, and the kind of unimaginable hellspawn that could only be dreamed up at the end of the world.

To that, Celes had to laugh. This little mountain had nothing on the reality she knew.

Between the broken crags and jagged riffs, there were still trees -- not many, but a few. Flocks of birds cawed and circled over head, and not all of them were predatory. Celes had even found that the quality of the monsters had dropped significantly from her expectations. As long they didn't inflict undeath or open up rifts to other dimensions she wasn't particularly impressed. Still, she'd found the Mountain strangely familiar -- desolate, and yet almost right. She'd needed time on her own to clear her head and battle monsters as the same survivor she'd been before this whole ridiculous "world-warping" mess. 

Who was she? Not a general, certainly, and not the battle-worn survivor or the hopeful lover either. No, here in Zephon none of those labels seemed to apply. And yet, she still didn't quite have an answer. Was she a criminal? A hero? A victim? Crazy? Desperate?

Well, at the moment, she supposed that she could only be called a hunter.

It had all started during a brief supply mission in a local mountain village. It was a hardened kind of place, the kind that kept a strict curfew and an even stricter guard, and yet, that gave it an almost militaristic charm. She nodded appreciatively at the grizzled hunter standing watch at the village gates. He checked her of course (she'd grown used to the odd reactions to her chosen dress and weaponry), but allowed her to pass with a similar nod. Celes had brought with her a collection of various odds and ends gathered from the local wildlife -- each with a price on its head that she intended to collect. It wasn't the most dignified profession, but she'd suffered far less dignity in far worse places than bargaining for bounties in the Sleeping Frog Pub.

Her boots slipped on slick condensation. The air was heavy with must and the dank aftertaste of wine rot. Celes hid her distaste behind thin lips as she approached the counter and waited coolly for a turn with the management. Despite its reputation as the local hovel, its owner had once been a hunter of some renown and helped to keep the hunting business in order. The locals joked that the village's security would only stand so long so long as the Sleeping Frog Pub kept raking in money from fools and drunks. As far as Celes could tell, this would never be a serious concern.

After serving drinks to six inebriated patrons in front of her, the bartender finally noticed the battle-hardened woman standing stiffly at the end of the counter. He paused for a moment, thrown off by either her expression or the bag of mangled monster parts at her hip, before approaching her cautiously.

"Ah, can I help you, Miss?"

Celes asked for the owner -- the only one capable of paying her -- but he was apparently out with no way to track him and no known time of arrival. Celes tried to keep her patience, but she could feel her lips thinning with every weak excuse the man gave. Finally, she asked, "Well what am I supposed to do then? If he's not here?"

Her answer was less than ideal. The man stuttered a little under her gaze before suggesting that she take another job while she was waiting -- some kind of investigation of earthquakes upsetting trade routes. Celes would have liked to have lectured the man and his whole establishment on the importance of basic competence, but barely managed to hold her tongue. "Excuse me?" was all she allowed herself before steadying herself with a breath. "Fine," she managed instead, if only to dispel the man's initial alarm.

And that's how she found herself heading along up a mountain pass on a hunt for errant earthquakes and avalanches. She couldn't keep herself from fuming. The word 'incompetent' ran often through her head alongside phrases like 'not worth my time.' Still, she went if only because it sounded like lives were at stake if the path wasn't cleared, and she'd never let innocent people die just because someone had offended her. She had something called 'basic human decency.' Decency and competence.

Celes paused. Even angry, she couldn't ignore the sound of a voice up ahead. A voice and rustling foliage. She'd been told that others had been called to clear the trade route, and that she should meet up with them if she could. Still, she placed a hand on her sword as she crept forward, careful to step only in the softest dirt and to avoid any fallen twigs. Magic chilled her fingertips, ready to cast, as she peered through a veil of branches and pine needles.

What she found was, well, odd to say the least. There was a dark man, tall and gaunt with trailing black hair, a cape, and metal shoes. While the man should've been more interesting with his black leather and what looked like a golden claw on his arm, it was the boy beside him that caught her eye. It wasn't that he looked any stranger than the man -- by comparison, his fiery hair and black leather armor were almost tame -- but there was something about him that felt off somehow. She couldn't place it.

She hadn't caught what the man said, but she was close enough to hear the boy's reply. "I am a Mark Hunter for the Sword of the Weak Guild. The barkeep at the Sleeping Frog told me that the other hunters had already begun their climb? Are you one of them?"

Celes let out a breath. So these were the kind of people the town sent out for their missions? Of course, she should have guessed. If there was one thing she'd learned in her year on this bizarre world, it was that people who looked like that weren't from around here. And there were plenty of world-hopping strangers who were interested in jobs like this.

She regripped her sword and stepped out from her cover of fir trees. "I don't know if he is, but I am. Something about earthquakes?" Celes tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but it wasn't easy. These people looked more like bandits than allies, even if they were clearly from off-world. She gave the man a hesitant nod. "Sorry to interrupt," she said, though really she just hadn't thought of a better way to join the conversation. Her cheeks flushed faintly.

This was going to be a very long day.

ulla

Celes’ surreptitious approach was commendable, each step taken was calculated and precise; whoever had imparted her with their knowledge was leagues above the common cutthroat or purse-snatcher. Meanwhile, Vincent’s reconnaissance efforts weren’t without their own merit, he’d utilized his environment wisely; albeit to a lesser extent than the fair-haired maiden hidden amongst the Fir trees. It irked him to admit, if not for a few mistakes made by both parties, he’d likely have never detected their presence. The two lingering adventurers were inconsequential, they’d improperly masked their scents; undetectable by a normal hume. Celes’ approach was also untimely, she’d lurked in the nearby Fir after Dieter had already been put on edge by Vincent’s presence.

A faintly audible sigh escaped from between Dieter’s coral-hued lips. He’d personally never been found of the cloak and dagger approach. In his own opinion, it was an excessively time-consuming method that lacked honor; it was incredibly effective though. His pride as a knight seldom allowed him to stoop to such underhanded tactics, albeit he’d used it on a few occasions when ordered by Lord Belias’. His preference was to engage his foes in a head-on assault, savoring the euphoria brought on by the thralls of combat; it was a short thrill but one he’d been raised to crave. Alas, his thoughts on the subject mattered naught, they were merely his personal musings. These thoughts were dismissed as Celes’ figure emerged from the brush, the resulting rustling prompting Dieter to look in her direction. His lackluster emerald eyes regarded her with mild interest, discreetly running along her lithe body. He’d surmised that she was likely a knight or warrior, a seasoned one at that based on the way she gripped her blade.

His heart fluttered momentarily in his chest, it was accompanied by a singular thought, this sword-maiden’s beauty was captivating; in the non-traditional sense, of course. Ironically, it was that same beauty that made Dieter regard her with due caution, he’d witness countless influential men fall by the hand of women such as herself. She was the first to break the period of silence that had befallen the trio of strangers, her tone had a subtle bitter edge to it that rivaled the edge of her blade. The Dark Knight nodded his head in response to Celes’ inquiry, acknowledging that Vincent was indeed the third member of the expedition. In his opinion, Celes’ apology felt forced, but he didn’t mind. It was an enjoyable sight to see her fluster nervously. Before he could speak, Vincent’s voice prompted him to remain silent, the gunslinger’s tone was blunt and matter-of-factly.

He transitioned seamlessly from menial pleasantries to the task at hand, inquiring about the others’ knowledge and insight. The youth merely shrugged his shoulder and shook his head indicating that he had nothing of merit to contribute. However, he did take this brief pause to introduce himself.

“My name is Dieter, Dieter Wolfram, Charge of Sir Wiegraff,


His alabaster fingers interlaced with one another behind his back as he began to rock forward to the balls of his feet and then backwards onto his heel. His mirthful grin grew marginally wider as his jovial, childlike tone would disrupt the silence. It would have been simple to write him off as just another naïve adventurer, yet there was a subtle tone that garnished ones’ attention. He’d carelessly uttered Lord Belias’s name once before in the presence of Kuja, he’d solemnly swore to never make such a mistake again. He was uncertain if one of this ‘lost souls’ was the phantom vagabond that he’d pursued all-across Ivalice. Once his fingers untangled themselves from one another, his attention shifted towards a spot off in the distance. His entire body quickly grew rigid, a palpable wave of bloodlust emanating him as he’d issued a silent challenge their fourth unwelcomed spectator. Alas, his challenge was answered in kind by a deafening roar, it was an odd cross between tiger and a behemoth. He’d questioned what it could be, the only hint given was two flickering orbs of electricity, which periodically flickered amidst the fog. Such traits were unfamiliar to the Archaeodaemon, people of this world would easily discern that it was a Coruel .

These creatures were abhorred, their lithe muscular bodies moved with unnatural ease, their claws were razor sharp and easily capable of rending armor. What made it worse, they were well-versed in magic and seldom travelled alone; they were pack hunters after all. He said nothing to Celes or Vincent as his hand drifted to the blade that hung from his side. He unsheathed his two-handed blade effortlessly, albeit he did so with one hand. A feat that served dually served to demonstrate that Dieter was arguably stronger than his lithe’ child-like body suggested and to make known the fact that his blade wasn’t’ for show. He’d swung his blade in a controlled arc, its’ tip carving a line into the mountain side. He’d plunge the tip of his blade into the ground after doing so. His right hand firmly gripped the hilt of his blade, while his offhand rested on the pummel of his blade. Now the question begged, would the Coeurl pack meet his challenge or shy away from it?

@vincent

NOTES ---

Well this was annoying.

While the interaction between himself and Celes had been short but at least friendly, there was something very off about that kid. He seemed oddly interested in the attractive blonde woman that had introduced herself. The most obvious answer in Vincent's mind was that it was because of her looks. Any reasonable (or even any sane) man would have likely considered Celes to be a rather attractive woman. Vincent was no exception to this rule despite his impressive ability to hide it. That being said Vincent got the feeling that wasn't what was on the kid's mind. Which brought up another troubling revelation.

Something was wrong with that guy. The look on his face seemed to almost act like there was an expression behind the one he was wearing. An expression of a much darker nature. Moreover Vincent's monster instincts allowed him to detect something more A strange, ominous aura and presence below the surface that seemed to just now eek out to the surface just waiting to be released. On the surface it was like the kid was completely human with a barely hidden monster right below it, desperate for a reason to come out.

That kid gave off the same feelings Vincent got whenever he had looked at the man that had been his mortal enemy, Professor Hojo.

Vincent was about to interject when he got another nasty vibe from a different source. The feeling of stalking monsters approaching. Pretty big ones too. In response Valentine quietly cursed his luck as he realized that the three of them being together might attract more aggressive and bold monsters in the area. A lot of nasty things lurked on the mountain, including the very monster that had revealed itself as it strode through a couple of trees and rocks.

A Mountain Courel.

Well this had gotten much more complicated. Mountain Courel were extremely bad news. Among the most dangerous monsters on mt. Hotan, they were in the same size class as behemoths (although slightly smaller and much lighter in muscle mass) but arguably far more dangerous in some regards. First off, unlike behemoths all breeds of Courel were highly skilled pack hunters. They never traveled alone and they were excellent at coordinating attacks. Even the most skilled travel groups could be completely scattered
by a ruthless or large enough group of them.

However their most dangerous trait was not their size, strength or speed, but their unique ability referred to by hunters as "Blaster". By concentrating energy into the tendrils in the facial area, Courel could release a strange blast of energy as a ranged attack. This energy blast had a downright deadly effect on living beings, damaging them with a chance of outright killing them in a single shot. Even worse was that no magical barrier that Vincent knew of could block it. Even the most well defended Caravans with magitek barriers, wards and defenses could suffer heavy casualties from Courel if they used blaster to pick off specific prey that the caravan could do little to protect. The only possible way to mitigate it were specialized seals meant to prevent an individual from dying outright, and that didn't prevent the damage or the fact that one still had a Courel to deal with.

Of course, that was only the first part of it. Apparently Dieter (the "kid") was not taking this threat as seriously as he should have. Although he gave a pretty impressive display of strength as he sliced into the rock, he then decided to try and bait the goddamn Courel into attacking. Aside from the fact that giving a monster like that a willing opening move was cataclysmicly foolish, there was no guarantee that standing there waiting for an opening move wouldn't earn you a Blaster to the back of the head.

Or worse.

Instead of trying to untangle the mess Dieter had gotten himself into, Vincent instead focused on the task at hand. Celes had rather quickly taken control of the situation with an order to Vincent to cover her. While he was a lot of things, rebellious was not one of them and as a result Vincent quickly summoned his unique revolver Cerberus into his hand as Celes' blizzaga quickly froze the Courel in place while injuring it.

"Understood." Valentine affirmed sternly as he quickly leveled his revolver at the half-frozen mountain Courel and fired off a double-tap of shots aimed for its head. The six heavy-calibur bullets seemed to be quite effective, hitting their intended mark and killing the injured and frozen Courel. Vincent quickly spun around and scanned behind him and Celes to check for any incoming Courel, but none seemed to have continued the assault yet. Vincent knew that this was far from over: Courel never just showed up and charged head on. They always attacked from multiple angles for the highest possible chance of scoring a quick kill.

And just as he was turning back around he saw it: the next opening attack. A strange, blue pulse of energy flew through the air twoard both Valentine and Celes from behind and to the left of Celes, meant to be in one of her blind spots. It was a larger blast, meant to try and catch someone if they tried to dodge it. Vincent could have easily dodged it, but even if he warned her Celes would have had little to no time to react. Vincent's reaction was based entirely upon the best possible scenario he could come up with.

As he Rushed twoard Celes in a barely percievable blur of red and black Valentine unsummoned Cerberus and brought forth a much larger silver gun of some unknown make known as the Death Penalty. Vincent's most powerful weapon, it was easily one of his most dangerous and not one he wished to use often (or ever if he could avoid it). Due to the nature of the projectile he was about to fire he couldn't fire it around Celes either: if he fired it in any attempt it would hit her, and even the smallest grazing shot could have proven utterly devastating. So Vincent was going to take her out of the picture by quite literally sliding right up to her so he could shoot around her. Unfortunately, as precision of how close he was to her beyond "close" wasn't his primary concern at the moment Vincent didn't even realize that he slid right up against the woman as his arm slid right past hers. Taking aim with the death penalty at the perilously close shot of Blaster, Vincent didn't take much aim as he quickly squeezed the trigger.

As he did the Death Penalty let loose a pitch-black ray of incredible energy and force that was roughly the circumference of a basketball. The muted sound of the strange energy leaving the barrel the only indication that Vincent had fired some kind of shot that grazed Celes cape, cutting a slight piece out of it. The Death Penalty shot not only pierced the Blaster shot and continued, but obliterated it and continued as if it had not even been there. By pure luck of the draw, the same shot hit a Courel sitting between some nearby rocks (the very same that had fired the blaster shot). There was no reaction: no scream of pain, movement, or anything of the sort from the monster. The mountain Courel instantly burst out of existence into a cloud of ash and smoke, both of which would then vanish in seconds.

Vincent hadn't even stayed to witness the Courel's death, as he had already slid away from Celes without a word, his eyes still scanning the area for another inevitable Courel attack.