Mount Everfall your skin knew battle before it knew war

The opaque looking sky overhead opened up and a soft rain begun to fall as Nero skirted around the bottom of Mount Everfall. He stayed close to the mountain but did not venture higher than ground level. It was not a fear of heights that still him but rather a fear of losing footing up treacherous path made even more so by the rain that would render rock slippery. A mountain goat bleats up ahead of him and it draws the DiSarinno’s pace to a halt, sharp eyes of imperial jade zeroing in on the pale goat as it climbs such narrow (and treacherous!) path. It the goat, built to navigate such dangerous terrain hesitates and teeters, the small pebbles beneath it’s hooves giving way as it slips and for a moment Nero stops breathing, pupils blown wide as he anticipates a free meal but fortunate for the goat it manages to regain it’s balance and hops up further and Nero lets out a low huff that ends on a rumble of discontent like brewing thunder of disappointment.

Free meal denied to him he keeps moving, eventually happening upon a cave. He peers in the yawning mouth, dank and dark, the rich smell of rainwater and earth pungent to his nostrils which flare to search beyond the heavy musk of earth, attempting to discern if there was anything dangerous of note hidden within the cave. If there was: it’s scent had long since washed away. The Macedonian heads just inside the mouth of the cave, seeking shelter from the rain which has gradually begun to quicken in pace: small raindrops replaced by fat ones that has left him throughly soaked to the bone. He gives his pelage a hearty shake and is left with a ruffled, soaked but no longer leaving quite a sopping mess.

Lavishly Nero stretches out beneath the shelter of solid rock, pelage of smoky umbra swallowed by the darkness and of the cave as he settles onto his belly in a sphinx-like position, content to wait the rains out.