Dark shadows cast themselves over the rocky surface of the mountainside, as abusive rays of constant heat rained down from the midday sun above. Cool only due to the altitude, it wasn't cold enough for the man perched on a stone in the shade, a knapsack at his feet and a canteen set beside him as he nibbled on the food in his hand. For him, today had been a long, grueling day, the hike started near dawn and continued until now. It was... strenuous, to say the least. Taking a moment to pause, his eyes scaled up the cliffside that faced him, before wondering down the general path he was following. A frown quickly appeared on his face. It didn't look good, really. A bunch of rocks and steep slopes, loose gravel along the way... It wasn't going to be easy. Shaking his head slightly, his gaze swiveled to stare at the protein bar he was munching. At least he had the energy. With a quick movement, he bit into the source of satisfaction, before he reached over and unscrewed the canteen, taking a swig of the water inside. Then, screwing the lid, replaced it into the backpack, and finished off the protein bar. It was time to move on.

The rest of the day was spent struggling up and over the multiple mountainous bodies of the range. The place he was trying to get to had apparently been selected based off remoteness. It couldn't be reached by land transport, and aviators had a superstitious avoidance of the area. Plus, skydiving in mountains wasn't recommended. Still, the journey would hopefully be worth the effort, if the small rumors Damien had picked up were true. Tales of the power of the Moschets, of their strange, supposed heritage, and the way in which they were... extinguished. It was the disciple's hope that, despite the multiple ransacking that had likely taken place over the years, there was something of worth left. Something he could use. But the first step was to get there.

By the time he reached the specific rocky facade he needed, night had surrounded the young man. When he'd first seen it, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, impressed by the Mochet's ability to get competent architects way out here. The arches looked well made. And the pillars had definitely survived time. Overall, it looked rather pristine. Not that he cared. This was just an in and out; in to search for anything of value, then out of here, preferably with some artifact.

The cool night air was a blessing for the hiker on the rest of his pilgrimage, a relief from the constant punishment of heat the day had brought. And with the benefits of an easier road to the mountain, likely a result of culturing by the former inhabitants, Damien felt revitalized by the time he made it to the Moschet Museum, left hand resting on a pillar as his other rested on his leg. Even his brown vest, with its buttons snapped to keep it closed, and his cotton trousers, comfortably fit, we're devoid of the large amounts of sweat the journey had created. And with the break he'd taken just before getting here, he felt oddly revitalized. A huge relief.