The Cave of Mortiss

[Mortiss]

*On the outskirts of the Wei empire in the mountainous regions in the north a cave lies atop the tallest of all the snow covered peaks. The Cave itself is nothing special, on the outside two spikes stand on either side of the entrance. On these Spikes are two skulls, both still wearing some kind of old fashioned helmet. Its not really clear who these two heads once were, but they clearly have some importance to Mortiss for them to greet any visitors that may stumble upon his den. A large furry brown skin covers the cave entrance, this is the only way in or out.*

*Once inside its is hard to believe any man could call such a place his home. Nothing but rocks lie inside, for decoration some bones of animals that have been eaten and left to rot away in the center. It is always pitch black, the skin halts most of the daylight from entering. No torches illuminate and for anybody unused to such darkness they would be unable to see anything at all. A large sheep skin is laid on the rocky ground where Mortiss sleeps. Leaning against the far wall are usually various weapons and Armour. A Hunters Axe, Throwing Spears and a Dark Blue Armour that looked extremely heavy and unimaginable.*

*This was where Mortiss called home, his eyes had become used to the pitch black and he could see almost as well at night as he could during the day. He was rarely disturbed and when some fool did happen to stumble upon his hideout they would end up dead unless Mortiss knew them, and even then they would need a good reason to disturb him. Mortiss did not like company, he had no need of friends. Indeed that was why he chose the cave, in order to get there you would you need to climb one of the most dangerous peaks, most died or gave up before they reached anywhere close to where Mortiss lived. Mortiss however loved it, just getting home became a life and death training session, leaving became a life and death training session. Surviving became a life and death training session. After years of training his body upon the mountain he knew every inch of it, he knew the easiest ways and the most perilous. It was the perfect training environment for him.*

(If anybody is stupid enough to come visit Mortiss then post about you climbing the mountain first please)

[Sullivan]

(Pure and utter crap)

Sweat. It was something Sullivan wasn’t used to, but here, trekking up the long mountainside, using any paths he could find within the twisting, seemingly taunting, slope, he was sweating, the sweat matting his partly crimson bangs. Who in their right mind lived in such an…isolated location? He would have said more about these godforsaken mountains, but it wasn’t worth while, besides it was only him, the stone paths, and the occasional animal. This Mortiss creature surely must have been foolish. Unless he had a secret staircase within his home he had no means of reaching his…kingdom in times of war. But it was of no concern to Sullivan. Let it all burn – it would happen sooner or later.

Driven by the need to serve the Holy Mother Sullivan glanced up, weary legs, nearly collapsing from the sure exhaustion of climbing this damn mountain, caring him forward along the straight path carved into the mountain. It was then that he spotted two spikes outside of a cloth covered cave. At last, Mortiss’ purgatory, his prison of his own mind and doing, was before Sullivan. Just one more level – or Sullivan could do it the more dangerous, and weighing the pro and cons, placed his staff on a strap on his back. Taking his two hands he placed them on what he hoped were two strong stones. Jumping up to see if they could support the weight of his body he grinned, before placing his hand further up and replacing his hands on the lower stones with his feet, slowly making his way up the mountain side.

Closer and closer Sullivan got, pure adrenaline fueling his advance up the side of this seemingly stable mountainside. And then it happened, one of the rocks he gripped slipped out and Sullivan’s body was instantly thrown into a state of reaction, his bodies weight no longer truly being supported. In the end, he was hanging on by but one hand. Grunting Sullivan took his hand hanging at his side and gripped the staff on his side. Taking it he moved it so he held it like he was about to throw it like a javelin, before thrusting it into the side of the wall, using that to regain his composure that he had formerly lost. Using the staff as a pick of sorts he made his way inch by slow inch up the side of the mountain and when he was at last up it he glanced down, spitting at where he knew Wei was.

He turned and ran a hand across his forehead, wiping the sweat from his brow as he looked toward the cave covered by no more than a brown throw rug. Animal skin. He found that barbaric…all the more reason to believe this ‘Mortiss’ character was just that, a barbarian. Clearing his throat he spoke as though his body had no quell with exhaustion, “Mortiss…?” He began, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “Damian sent me here, supposedly you are to be my partner for killing a small group of bandits…”

[Mortiss]

"Damien?"

*The shrieking unsettling voice came from behind Sullivan, As he turned to face the voice that was surely that of Mortiss he saw him sitting on top of a large boulder, his legs were dangling down, they were too short to touch the ground. His arms were folded across his chest and his black dreads covered his face which was stern and serious.*

"Damien sent you?"

*He spat on the floor and jumped down from the boulder landing in a crouching position, his arms touching the floor, his face staring downward, he slowly raised himself up, his face still facing the floor. With grace he drew his double blades of Inferno from across his back*

"Damien"

*He walked calmly toward Sullivan his blades were pointing at the stranger. Mortiss had no idea who this man was, and he didn't care, He either had to be very brave or very stupid to arrive on Mortiss' home turf. As he came within striking distance of Sullivan he whipped his dreads back revealing his dirty chalky face. His swords were pointed at Sullivan's stomach a slight smile appeared on that unwashed face*

"Damien, Damien, Damien, DAMIEN! DAMIEN HAS NO AUTHORITY! HE DARES TELL ME WHAT TO DO! I FOLLOW THE ORDERS OF NO MAN! PRIME MINISTER? HA! I SPIT ON HIM AND HIS TITLE!"

*He had become angry and unstable, his eyes were burning red with sheer rage his grip on his weapons had become so tight the palms of his hands had begun to drip blood, he had clenched his yellow rotten teeth. He looked as if he would strike down this Sullivan in an instant. However he began to calm down once again, his eyes faded back to the common black, his grip loosened and a smile returned to his face*

"You follow the orders of Damien without question? You climb this deadly mountain because he told you too? I will not waste my time with a man who does not have the balls to think for himself. You would crawl back to Damien on all fours like a dog!"

[Sullivan]

Sullivan calmly and coolly turned as he heard a voice to his rear and his right, most likely why he missed the man when he was pulling himself up to the level the cave was on. The man was most certainly barbaric, Sullivan now saw. No class, no order.

Sullivan watched the man stand and move toward him, body still slinking toward the ground, the man not even looking Sullivan in the face, but rather was content to stare at the cold, hard, ground. Lifeless stones that shared no meaning in this world but to impede those that had a goal from actually reaching it. Some found mountains beautiful, Sullivan found them an annoyance. Sullivan remained silent as the man spoke once more – not needing to speak to read the man, anger was radiating off of his person.

Mortiss’ twin swords were pointed toward Sullivan’s stomach but even then Sullivan refused to attack the man, not yet. If the man was to die by his hand he would have an excuse as to why and then this barbaric fool would find himself one of the twenty-one, one of the Ten Hearts. Oh how Sullivan would enjoy that. But, not unless the man tried to attack him, if only to gain an excuse...if only to be able to maintain his apparent loyalty to the worthless kingdom of Wei.

Shouting, worthless expression through raising your voice. Did this dirty, beggar-looking man think to scare Sullivan by yelling? If anything it made Sullivan smirk in return, the appearance of his face becoming corpse-like. So he didn’t respect authority figures, huh? All the more power to him, it was none of Sullivan’s concern of whom he respected, that was, unless he refused to respect the Holy Mother. Perhaps then his soul would be washed of the filth that attached itself over years of acting as he was – a barbarian.

Even the man’s rage didn’t make Sullivan flinch. Rage was but another emotion with no real purpose or service. It was just there. Sullivan calmly gripped the spear-like staff in his right hand and he knocked the swords of the man away from his person. If Mortiss saw that as a chance to attack him, so be it – he would walk away from this mountain alive and as for Mortiss? Well, Mortiss’ fate would be the one to hang in the balance, “Who says I don’t think for myself, you sin ridden barbarian,” Sullivan spoke, holding his ground. “Have you never heard of misleading another for your own gain? Damian doesn’t deserve respect, nor do you, nor does anyone in the entire radius of Asia,” Sullivan continued to smirk, his eyes gleaming in such a way as to represent laughter, “Why don’t you tell Wei how you…unjustly killed me and see what happens. That is…if you can get past my troops at the base of the mountain. I doubt you and you alone can kill hundreds of men – let alone when hundreds of the mare so eager to fill the skies with a rain of arrows. You see, I will do anything for her,” He resisted the urge to say ‘Holy Mother’, none of them needed to know about her quite yet, “even if that means killing every last man, women, and child in all of Asia…” Sullivan finished, smoothing out his black coat which had wrinkled while he climbed up the steep steppe.

[Mortiss]

*Mortiss was unimpressed by this mans cool calm exterior, so he was not one to be scared easily? So what, Mortiss feared no man, especially the likes of this Sullivan character. His calmness just added to Mortiss' anger, why should he not strike down this man? He clearly cared little for Wei or anything else for that matter. He would become a threat unless he was taken down now. Besides Mortiss always looked forward to the next good fight, perhaps this Sullivan would offer him the challenge he so desperately saught. Not since he fought with his mentor Alomovo had he fought an opponent he would deem to be worthy.*

"You dare make threats to me? I would be quiet if I were you! Your in my world now! A world of Torment, death, misery and despair! You are in the living hell, the endless nightmare! You have entered Mortiss! Now prepare yourself for the final end! Your head will make a fine addition to my collection! Die fool!"

*Mortiss was ready, he loved to fight, it was his entire purpose, he searched the land endlessly for an opponent who would give him a fight. That was the only reason he had joined Wei, killing delighted him, the taste of blood on his lips, the smell of fear, those precious few seconds before a mans head was ripped from his neck, that was what Mortiss loved. He would enjoy this fight, he wanted to prolong it as long as it amused him. He charged forward at full speed he slashed frantically at his enemy using both blades, from right to left and from left to right, Sullivan would have to be quick if he wanted to live, the attacks were all at chest height and all packed the kind of fanatical power you would expect from an animal like Mortiss*