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I have no disillusions as to my station. I am neither god nor devil, not good or evil; I am merely a man, and a pitiful one at that.

-Fenris Skjoll

The pair where silent as they ascended the mountain trail, only the crunch of snow and ice beneath their feet and the laboured fight for air in the thin mountain atmosphere breaking the uncomfortable quiet between thief and Paladin.

Despite the turmoil that racked her thoughts, Kath couldn't help but admire the mountains for all their terrible beauty. The sheer cliffs and walls of stone loomed high over the narrow mountain trail; and the steep overhand to their side led to a drop into an abyssal chasm from which there was no conceivable escape.

All around them where a million ways for them to meet their end, even a twisted ankle could spell a long and lingering death this far from civilization, but the place had a strange serene atmosphere about it. The air, while thin, was clear, smelling thickly of pine. The sky, while intermittently clouded, was often broken by massive expanses of blue sharp enough to cut like a knife. The soil beneath their feet was loose and soft, untrodden upon by civilization; fertile from millennia of life and death free of civil interference.

There had, at first been the sounds of bountiful life, with birds chirping and deer running through the forest; these creatures had soon disappeared as the ascended the mountain's slopes, the air too sparse to allow vegetative growth and therefore unfit for larger creatures.

They paused at the bounds of a turn on their path, taking the opportunity for brief respite. Varg didn't show his weariness, though Kath could sense it on him. They had travelled miles already, and where fast approaching the series of chasms and pits that served as the final bastion of the Shoggoth Empire, and the home of the Order of the Dead.

It was odd, or so Kath thought, to stand in the shadow of a place of legend such as the Deadmount; but even where they sat, several leagues away from the mountain, she could hardly help but be awed by the awesome mass of the Shoggoth's creation.

The thing was several miles taller than the continent was wide, rising well beyond the scope of mortal sight, disappearing into the heavens above. Even at this range, the immense houses and buildings of the Shoggoths peeked through the snow-capped walls of stone, their architecture poking through at odd angles as the perverse architecture marred the mountain's surface.

There was an odd darkness to the mountain, the sheer unnatural bulk of the thing seeming awful even among its peers of stone and ice. The place stood well above the colossal monoliths beside it, and the odd geometry of the primordial buildings made it seem inherently wrong, a thing from beyond the veil of the mortal fold to stand lonesome as a pinnacle of dark magics long dead.

"I am not climbing that," Kath said after taking a moment to catch her breath.

"You couldn't if you tried," the dragon responded, the strain of his injuries barley showing beyond the mask he forced upon himself, "We're going through."

"Through?" Kath said, looking over the unbroken expanse of snow and stone.

"The Deadmount is _inside_the mountain," the dragon explained wincing as his stretching strained his wounded wings, "we just have to hope they don't know we're there until we've made it to the other side."

"Wait," Kath said, holding up a hand as the dragon gathered their supplies to start again, ignoring the pain evident in his expression, "We're walking straight through the city of the dead, and our plan is to hope they don't realize we're there?"

"We're hardly going to dance a jig through the palace," Varg snorted dismissively, "we're going to stick to the outer halls and stay out of sight."

"Gods," Kath moaned, heaving her pack onto her shoulder again, "I can see how you dragons managed to loose that many men when you see 'hope' as a legitimate strategy."

"Strategy had nothing to do with it," Varg said defensively, "the undead outnumbered us twenty to one."

"They had us a hundred to one back in Kadak," Kath said glibly.

"We didn't have a mage," Varg growled, "And if Aric hadn't shown up, it would've ended the same damn way."

"Why wouldn't an army that large have a mage with them?" Kath asked, "see, that's what I mean: bad planning."

"We didn't trust any mages to come along with us," Varg answered, the look on his face signalling that was all she would get from him.

They trotted along in silence for a few more minutes, the brief respite they had taken already forgotten by their straining lungs.

"What do you know about strategy anyways?" Varg asked, trying to break the silence with anything, even an argument.

"I ran a group of bandits for a couple years," Kath answered, "You don't last that long if you can't plan ahead."

"Oh," Varg mumbled, "Good to know it's not just the dead you steal from."

"If I hadn't been out in that field," Kath snarled back, "you'd be a dead lizard."

"So what," Varg said, ignoring the comment, "you told a couple thugs what to do; what does that have to do with strategy?"

"Not a couple thugs," Kath responded, "around three-hundred mercenaries and pirates from the western desert and coastline."

Varg looked back at her, surprised, "That's... actually fairly impressive."

Kath smiled proudly, "I got to meet a king once," she said, "even held him for ransom."

"So what, then," Varg said, "you held up travellers, raided towns?"

"At first, yeah," Kath responded, amazed as that damn mountain kept getting bigger, "then we moved on to larger cities. I was a legitimate warlord by the end of it."

"So how'd you end up robbing graves?" Varg asked, "so to speak."

"Betrayal, slavery and a ton of whores," Kath said simply, leaving the dragon to stare at her over his shoulder.

"Would you care to elaborate?" He asked, perplexed.

"Not as much fun when other people play the ambiguous game, is it?" She answered, "My second-in-command: Raza, despicable little shit, but good with money, began using my forces to enslave people."

"So?" Varg asked, "That's hardly unusual for bandits."

"It was for me," Kath responded venomously, "We may have robbed people, but we didn't enslave them."

"Oh," Varg said sarcastically, "you were one of those 'noble bandits,' with all their charity and good will."

Kath shook her head, annoyed, "don't be an ass," she said, "Cut a man's purse or cut a man's throat: that's a line; sure it's a despicable way to act, but a dead man's life is still his own."

"So what did you do?" Varg asked.

"I was going to kill him at the monthly festival at our stronghold, but he paid off all the guards and ran me out of town," she said, "got away with naught but my life."

"So what about the whores?" Varg asked, noticing their conspicuous absence.

"Have you ever been to a pirate festival?" Kath asked, "It's nothing but a parade of whores and rum; I had to escape through the backroom of a brothel."

She shuddered, "so much lube."

"Okay..." Varg said slowly, turning back towards the mountain, welcoming the silence once more.

"What about you?" Kath asked, breaking the silence after nearly ten minutes of quiet.

"What?" Varg asked, only the sound of the snow beneath their feet and the howling wind to accompany their conversation.

"What did you do before you became a walking death-machine?" She elaborated.

"I was born a warrior," Varg answered, "All dragons learn to fight when they're young, but only a few actually serve in the army beyond their compulsory terms."

"Why's that?"

"Because not everyone is a warrior," Varg answered, as if it were obvious, "You're expected to fight if called upon, but if you're a better teacher or artist, that's what you should do."

"So why did you stay?" she asked.

"Because it's what I'm best at," Varg answered simply.

"Why not try something else?" Kath asked, "I mean, you're good at fighting, but what if you liked something else more than that?"

"Because I know what I'm good at, and I'm not going to waste my time, and that of my race by pretending to be something besides a Paladin."

"So you're absolutely certain of your chosen path?" Kath asked, perplexed at that.

"There is no certainty in life," the dragon responded, "besides uncertainty; but until I find something better, I know what I am."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Kath said, shrugging, "I imagine you'd make a fantastic day-care worker."

He didn't dignify her response with an answer, merely sending her a dull look of exasperation.

"I imagine the act of cleaning up after toddlers and undead extermination are quite similar," she said, looking off into the mountains so to avoid breaking up into laughter.

Varg looked over his shoulder to where his wings hung uselessly, their membrane still torn, though not as severally as they were a week ago. He shook them fruitlessly, giving out a sigh as he turned his head back to the trail.

"Looks like I won't be flying the rest of the way," he said.

"Nope," Kath smiled, "You get the pleasure of enjoying my company for a whole more..." she trailed off, "how much farther?"

"Week and a half," her companion muttered, watching as her face fell as well.

"Wonderful," she groaned, "absolutely wonderful."