[center][h1]THE MOUNTAINEER[/h1][/center]

	[i]A LONE MAN IN WHITE[/i] stuck his crampon into the thick ice walls of a mountain that towered high above the Alpine Republic. He swung a pick with a harsh grunt into the sparking-white cliff, grunting with exertion. With a labored lift of the head, he could see the ledge was a mere few feet above him. His tired legs, exhausted from hours of climbing, were renewed with energy. He continued his climb, the ice chipping and crunching underneath his tools as he struggled upwards.

	Finally, he swung his leg above the lip of the cliff and swung the rest of his body up behind it. He found himself laying face down on flat ground. He leapt up, jumping into the air, and offered a cheer to the empty mountain range. It echoed below and beyond him, and he took a minute to observe the Alpine Republic's fantasy-world landscape. With warmth in his heart, he smiled to himself. He thought of the stories of paradise that had been told to him in his Alaskan youth. From his pocket, the man in white withdrew a picture of Sarah Palin that he kissed dearly. The prize was almost in sight.

	He trudged forward as the wind began to pick up. Snow and ice cut at him despite his cold weather gear. He walked for an hour until he found a cave nestled at the peak of the mountain, whereupon he stopped and rested. Inside was a treasure too great for a mortal man. The man in white sighed; he would have prayed, or knelt, or hoped to a higher power, or played the stations of the cross against his chest if religion wasn't a decrepit institution. Instead, his self will and the invisible hand pushed him forward.

	It was exactly what he he was looking for. An aura of light surrounded the pillar of ice. Perched atop it, frozen to an immaculately sculpted base, was a golden AR-15 rifle. The man in white approached it, the Angel Moroni singing to him angelically. His cold fingers were warmed by the scene, heat radiating from the barrel as if it had just shot down three protesters in the far North. The man in white felt his feet life off the ground as an otherworldly power took control of his mortal body. He grabbed the AR-15: it came unglued from the ice effortlessly.

	Holding the ancient weapon in his hand, the man in white charged the handle and loaded a round into its breech. He looked towards the mouth of the cave, towards the snow-blind and windswept landscape ahead of him.

	"With this weapon," he declared, hoisting the rifle high into the air, "I shall bring libertarian glory to the Alpine Republic!"