Beowulf stood at the base of the volcano, staring defiantly at it. "More like Therab the Hill." He said, attempting to mock the volcano, as pathetic as it was. Seeking enjoyment and perhaps some good training, Beowulf started ascending the volcano. The paladin's main purposes of venturing to this barren mountain was to test his strengths, and locate his weaknesses. He would not go into a fight confident, unless he had done this first. The idea of him surviving or not was a feint whisper in the back of his mind. Beowulf was overconfident in his abilities of climbing mountains though, and to send the nagging whispers in his mind away, he merely thought that if he cannot survive the weak bellows of a nearly dead volcano, then maybe he did not deserve to be a paladin.

The mountain's base became steeper, as Beowulf trekked farther up the obsidian goliath, but it wasn't really hadn't been a challenge so far, but he could tell that Therab was beginning to work against him. The vibrations of the firey core that lay within the mountain could now be felt from where the paladin now stood. Beowulf smiled and continued, taking the mountain's rumble as a challenge. Quickening his pace, the paladin noticed that opposed to the tops of mountains and most inactive volacanoes being covered in snow, this one had been covered in a thin layer of ashes, meaning that this volcano still had some life left in it. "Heh, it seems you've been preparing for my arrival." He said, to himself and partly to the volcano. The rumbling became stronger, making Beowulf more eager to reach its peak, and declare himself victorious. He was now at a point where he had to start climbing the blackened mountain. Stopping for a moment, to gather strength for the task, he ripped off a part of his cloak, and tore that piece in two again. Beowulf took the seperate pieces of cloth and rapped them around his hands, so that they would not be mangled during the long climb ahead. "Well! Here goes nothing!" Beowulf said loudly, grasping onto a ledge.