A fire pit and pitched tent completed a small camp-out at the base of the apocalyptic mountain, here is where Iolanthe waited out the final days before the climb. It was when the wind and earth stirred, and the monks became every frantic, that one could assume the paths opened up once again. The hike would be a perilous one, Iolanthe knew well of the stories of old, but the rewards far outweighed the dangers. What was it with the gods, and mountains? Was Olympus not a grand enough bastion on Earth's soil, did the archangels have to create their own mountain, with the flesh of the fallen? One gaze upward, the peak was perhaps one of the only things beyond Iolanthe's view, hidden behind cloud cover.

Covered in a red cloak, and huddling over the warmth of a fire, Iolanthe waited till dawn to arrive, whilst surveying the path leading up to the first temple. From her position came an advantage, she was able to scout out the other competitors from a slant over the ridge. Blessed were her eyes, for few things escaped their criticism. Two champions already made their way towards the shrine, and perhaps did not notice Iolanthe's camp in time to figure out her motives. Insight was important to the hoplite maiden, and knowing what manner of warriors competed against her could give her the edge towards victory. Neither champions that arrived so far wore much armour, which explained how they came so quickly. Their weapons, or lack thereof in the case of the tanned warrior, were quickly noted, as it would go for anyone who arrived late to the tournament puppeted by the gods. Iolanthe feasted upon a slab of salted pork, whilst remaining unmoved, she was still a remarkable scout after all, and she wanted to know just what she was going up against.

Luckily, the display of a certain barbarian would go unwitnessed by Iolanthe, though that didn't mean she couldn't gauge his vulgarity at first glance. An aura of flies seemed to follow him, signaling either a lack of hygiene, or a defense mechanism similar to the forest foxes, who bathed in their own excrete hoping the smell would ward away predators. Iolanthe prayed to Hyperion, begged and sought to persuade that he would not find amusement in matching her against barbarians that did not share her honourable combat etiquette.

As time passed by, Iolanthe might grow bored of waiting, and eventually return to the narrow path behind her, which she knew would lead to her first challenge. May it be man or monster, she came equipped for battle against either.