Common sense was a powerful ally, and with it did Iolanthe trek the black mountain. She did not know how the conclusion came to her, but did not shrug such superstitions off, the knowledge that a battle would occur here on this day. It was never spoken aloud that the mountain's scape was a tournament of bloodshed, but it's history, drenched in death, hinted to nothing else. People died trekking up the mountain, and never did a group attempt the climb and come back side by side.

Iolanthe held her spear backwards and used it as a crutch to climb up the mountain, for the path she chose was not the beaten trail. She had some mountain climbing experience behind her, such as the time she visited the Oracle on mount Olympus. This black mountain was nothing like Olympus, however... it was very much alive, and the path became ever the more treacherous as Iolanthe navigated it. Eventually, the mountain's maw would deny her the advantage she sought, in her attempt to reach the peak without making contact with the other warriors. Bloodlust wasn't her thing, but it'd be forced upon her here. Tremors shook her off the side of the mountain she attempted to climb, until the path her eyes scouted out was no more. Sliding down a suddenly diagonal slope, she found herself in a narrow chasm.

"So the gods have spoken..." Iolanthe uttered under her breath, while turning her head down the pathway newly created. With her blessed sight, she could see far ahead, through the narrow route, a man stood in wait, a good eighty feet ahead in the only available open space she could spot for miles. Her hands carried the will of her devotion, and so she was willing to play the puppet in this game, she'd progress onwards with an unflinching courage, until she too became visible in the eyes of her designated enemy; From this standoff, each warrior could gauge one another.

The man standing before Iolanthe was scouted earlier, however his hurried unfaltering pace gave the hoplite little time to properly examine him. At first glance, he looked a bit rugged, like the many Germanic barbarians to the north; Iolanthe had some experience fighting off these heathens for the Romans. At second glance, the man seemed a slight bit taller than the average barbarian, his helmet was pretty unique, and the patterns woven in to his leather armour differed as well. Iolanthe's mind acted fast, and her eyes faster, at this distance she could scope in to his very pores, or lack thereof on his left arm, the colour of his eyes and hair, what scars were visible, and what weaknesses might be estimated based on those scars. A sigh escaped Iolanthe's lips, what a fine specimen of a man, he was obviously an incredibly skilled warrior, and a tad handsome to boot. Hopefully he had milked life's splendors to the fullest already, else Iolanthe would not enjoy killing a champion with no heir.

Hyperion wheeled about once in Iolanthe's hand, which outstretched with her arm so that the spear's tip pointed towards the northerner, whose name now became a thing of interest. "You who seeks the treasure of gods, state your name, and what reason compels you to climb this mountain!" Iolanthe loudly commanded, letting her voice echo across the mountain ledge. With honour, however, she wouldn't make such a demand without some mutual exchange. "I am Iolanthe Adastraia, champion of Hyperion! I seek the treasure to show my devotion to the solar, and bring liberation to my people! If I judge your resolve as impure, you will be shown no mercy! However... prove otherwise, and perhaps we can arrange for an honourable battle!" Iolanthe's eyes closed thusly, and her arm twisted to the side, pointing her spear instead towards the mountainous wall to her right. "Either way, by the sadism of the gods, the key to this wall is likely hidden in our blood... they seek a glorious performance! So then... Shall we give them what they desire?" Iolanthe finished her speech, and hoped it was not too much... or worse, if the Northerner couldn't speak or decipher the common tongue!

A standstill would last until the Viking warrior spoke his mind. Iolanthe knew she might die here... and if she did, she'd wish it by the hands of only the most honourable of champions. She had several coins strapped to her waist, which she would place upon her opponents eyelids, but only the ones who fought a respectable duel. She had enough extra to pay Chiron's fare if she were to fail.