The peak. (Fighting post, death in this post is exclusive to this post.)

At the top of the mountains, there is a peculiar slab that seems to be part of the mountain itself. If one were to move the snow around it, however, they would note a drastic colour and material difference. The mountain, being composed mainly of basic stone and having a stone gray colour, to the slab that was not so different to the tone of the sky at night. On said slab, were a number of etchings, runic symbols in a language so old, it would pre-date the first transcriptions of Latin itself. Although, a carbon analyse would place the slab at about two months old... Give or take a few days. That is, however, if there was any way to analyse the strange material. In the center, there was a rather strange rune, unlike all the others around it. It seemed to emit a strange energy that drew in all sorts of creatures. Tiny mite like animals that were oblivious to the cold environment that surrounded them. In that area, on the slab, the cold didn't seem to affect anyone, least of all the male that stood on the rune in the center. His eyes remained closed as the creatures span around him.

"Akvin, eldres konsá ei foulda" He spoke in a manner that seemed to agitate the creatures, or perhaps it was the word themselves that made them act in such a way. A scent seemed to fill the air, one that came from the creatures that flew around the male. It was fear. A primal instinct to run. But they no longer couldn't. They were bound by their own curiosity to witness the power that would be released, should the male live long enough. The power that came from the rune that was once nothing but a low hum had not increased a thousand fold, pure undulated power rolling down the mountain and through the lands below, a calling to all manner of creatures. A call for battle, one that only a brave few would accept. Brave, or stupid.

Bump.