Some of the more cragged mountians of the universe had apparently joined in formation at this very place, a ton of the obtrusive rock structures spiking out all over the place. In the daylight of a very hot morning, the pure rock crags did nothing to protect one lone traveller of the sweltering heat, as they almost increased the sunlight by using pure reflective power. A single path is what had led the lone travller to where he was now, and it was but a mere map that had led him to said hill. As he looked out among the landscape, black and brown rocks being the only thing that met his eye, he was almost regretful that he had come. Almost there, but not quite.

This was the only path to be seen in any direction, and Taren was the only one to be seen on it, for the moment. He had been travelling it for hours it seemed, taking a small break to drink water every now and then, but walking nonstop other then that. He had spotted random openings in the walls of the mountians, and hopefully checked his map for the chance that he might have found the ending of his journey, but each time, it had not been so. He travelled on then, sweating, and even more hot by the cumbersome nature of a black cloak.

It was how he did it. The man was dressed in a pure black cloak, falling from his neck down to the ankles of black leather boots. A hidden head was covered by a hood, an oddity in the heat, but something that he usually did nonetheless. He could drive through incomfort, he had done such before.

Sighing to himself, he plodded on. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, following a random map that he had found in his bags one morning. It had promises adventure and wealth, yes, but the most important thing it had offered him was a chance to find a new sword, a great sword. He was fond of his own, hidden in the fols of black cloak, but it was merely a shop trinket. Nothing important, that he should have to hold onto as if he was attached to it in some way. No, not at all. Almost subconsiously, he lowered a hand hidden in his cloak to touch the hilt of a sheathed katana, clenching it with long fingers and unclenching it just as soon. It was a comfort for him, really.

((OOC: Guess I will give us time to meet before we reach our location. :) ))

Taika had given up walking about in the heat of the day when crossing the desert. She had been hoping to find out more about what she was. After questioning so many of the elves in the village where her master had once done so much trade it was decided she was some sort of construct, or she would have died when the wizard who created her had. The problem was that elves didn’t use constructs. Magical constructs were more common among some creature known as a Gnome. Upon further questions, mostly to humans, and attempting to describe these creatures when she really had no clue what they looked like, she was directed to the mountains.

With still no real answers she now rested in the shade of a large crag, her blade drawn, it’s tip pressed into the earth between her cloven feet. Her hands were folded on the pummel, her chin resting on the backs of her hands. Her eyes had drifted closed for but a moment before something caused her to start. Her eyes flew open and she was on her feet. Looking around she saw… nothing. She shook her head, a few strands of her mane sticking to the short light gray hairs that covered her. Blinking se realized that the rabbit wasn’t about. With an exasperated sigh she clamored out of the shade to look for the fluffy white creature.