The stone provided much safety and warmth, the great war survivors clinging to the earthen bosom, seeking shelter from the vindictive outside world. Many tribes were forced to meld into one due to dwindling populations. For the next fifty years, the Goatkin engaged within the culling, a breeding ritual to repopulate their diminishing numbers. Zanryue is one such child, born of Kitsune and Goatkin blood, though those hooved genes proved far too potent, resulting in their dominant traits in her visage. Her father was a renowned hunter of the Fox tribe, known as Theo, her mother a priestess (Scientist in their society) sworn to pursue the slabs. From a young age, the monk was taught the art of war, throat singing, and the crags' veneration. Under her mother's tutelage, she learned all life is composed of tiny pebbles, the nature of the universe and its forces under the ores' terminology.

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She was being pitted against her siblings and peers, both in intellectual and physical prowess. The maiden earned her place before being taken to the jagged chasm to traipse across the 88-degree angle rockside. If she had fallen, her body would have been left to wither. A sign that the earth had rejected its chosen. Zanryue finished the arduous trek, reaching the other end, as she was accepted into womanhood. Spending decades learning non-rock forces interacting with the stones (Magic) and combining her Chi with that hand-to-hand style. Investing many years mastering her voice, unlocking the ability to send forth torrents of tumultuous winds from her gaped gullet, a technique her kin know as Verlakueen (Echoes of the core.) The manipulation of flesh and bone to push her brawn's amplification well beyond their natural levels due to a tentative alliance with the Giants to the north. 

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Once of age (16), the young star-filled adventurer exited the subterranean world, hearing whispers of the coming horde and times end. The creature finding this beyond fortitudinous, charged into the sands as she wandered. Below is an account of those travels.
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---Three weeks prior.---

The time within her tribe had come to an end; Zanryue, now being of age, would be dispatched out into the unrelenting world to accomplish the rite of passage. She left the crystal forest behind, giving the glassed trees a final glance, before traipsing across the dirt road, entering the hamlet known as Crystal town, as the bellowing ringing of criers reached those keen ears. The Goat was leaning forward, eyes narrowing as she pretended to be able to read the strange scribblings on the parchment. The pilgrim was nodding her head all sage-like as those ears flicked about hearing the promise of reward and glory. What luck! The proficient thrower of rocks can show off her skills and finish her pilgrimage in one fell swoop. The merry creature skipped with joy as the goat humanoid scurried off, humming with merriment as she let out a satisfied bleat. Exiting the settlement's confines, yet there was one predicament, she forgot to ask for directions.
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---Two weeks prior---

After seven days of roaming the land aimlessly, the dunes of sands started to blend. Yet that wouldn't do anything to damper her jaunty mood, as the Goat believed she was heading in the right direction. She was eventually coming across some merchants, who were gracious enough to offer her some food and water. As she asked them for guidance for the Obsidian canyon, the men of coin bewildered, rumors had already gushed forward regarding the gathering of forces. Most thought it a joke; still, they were about to give away the location. The mood quickly acidulated as the strange monk had started to dig through their wares, devouring one of their leather shoes. Outraged yet unarmed, the men promptly gave the strange creature some wrong directions. They were pointing her toward not the Canyon but the Ashlandian mountains. 

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The hellish plain often serves as a festering cesspool of death and corruption, thinking they'd exact revenge as the creature seemed rather obtuse. Zanryue was blundering away, a broad toothy grin as she figured her adventure would soon be coming to an end. The poor hermit found herself being trapped within the smoking, volcanic land: the creatures here proving rather foreboding, depraved cultists lurking within the ash-covered ruins. The tribal woman was throwing rocks and punching her way through problems, demanding answers from the animal life, unsure which were sentient. Yet the hurdles did little to sway her determination; instead, they encouraged them. The idiosyncratic wanderer was taking great delight in testing her mettle, feeling invigorated with each opponent. The bone armor coating her body as rigid as iron, ensuring that most of their attacks had a minimum influence on her sturdy body.

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The tenacity Zanryue possessed toward battle was unparalleled for her kind, many assuming her to be a freak, though the truth of her heritage remained a well-kept secret. Ultimately, the Goat would trample across a group of cultists, smashing in their teeth and snapping the bones of extremities until finally, one spoke. The dread-filled human chattered on, using big words, so she spanked him hard until he simplified his dialect. The robe-clad figured speaking of Ashtown and how her target wasn't far from there, that she'd have to head south and follow the ocean, the problem was, the Goat had little concept of direction unless the sun had set. And so she made the man point the way, pledging to return and end him if he should prove to be employing deception. 

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The hermit was bouncing across the sands, letting out an earth-shattering bleat as the distance between her destination diminished. The monk was eventually coming across the rancher town as she floundered across the other goatkin. The problem was, she made the disastrous mistake of wandering into the bar and may or may not have raked up an exorbitant tab while playing poker from the sheer volume of liquor the wanderer ingested. When asked for coin, Zanryue stared at them perplexed, her tribe not using such monetary systems birthing a misunderstanding. The men crossed, brandishing weapons, their caster guns at the ready as Zanryue figured this to be some courting ritual. As the mountain process within her own culture followed the idea that if beaten, you are your betters mate.

A skirmish broke out as the men made the oversight of braving the dimwitted brute within a confined space. Her bleat was booming, sending the men flinging every which way as the furniture bashed against the wall. Her body was becoming encased in that bone-white armor. The men were firing their caster guns, the diminutive projectile beings deflected by the skeletal shield as she blinked, her mind befogged. She was shrugging those shoulders as she consumed one of the firey projectiles, regurgitating it back at them as the target dove away. The round hitting the wall, setting the building ablaze, the monk may be dense, but even her brain knew the fire was horrifying. She offered an apology as she jumped out a nearby window; the idea seemed prankish at first, till the wooden splinters cut her face's skin.

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The Goat was running away, ears bending reward as she jumped, evading several shots. The marksmen were thinking they had her, letting loose another barrage, which merely bounced off the armor. The townsfolk confused, having no idea what the heck just happened, as they would make a mental note to hunt down those foul demons. The locals assumed her to be some baleful spirit, as the warrior seemed impervious to their rounds. Zanryue was still bolting into the twilight, her belly saturated with booze before eventually bent over and hurling up their beverage and the shoes she won in the poker game. Scrutinizingly staring down at it, tempted to taste the delicious leather once more, but decided not to as it was coated in granular sand.
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--The Horde--

 

The senseless Goat kept heading south, where she ended up being apprehended by a group of elder veterans on their way to the wall. Tales of her ruckus having reached their ears as they stopped by Ashtown on the way. While she slept, the men encroaching managed to get the jump on her, tying Zanryue up as a rope was now pulling her. At first, she was going to break free; however, hearing them mention the wall and the Canyon, the Goat feigned being vulnerable. Her body was still encapsulated in the bone armor as hooves dug into the rolling dunes of blanched sands. The soldiers figure the Satyrs were heading that way, and so they kept the bothersome dull-minded creature alive, thinking they could at least negotiate on a bounty. The strange men spoke about the blood fox charitably, though, to her people, she was a vicious demon accountable for the entire glassing of tribes.

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While most of her kind may harbor contempt for the fighter, the Goat didn't care, recognizing the testified strength and intrepidity Somber maintained on the battlefield. The tantalizing prospect of seeing it herself and maybe going a few rounds proving far too beguiling for her one-track mind. The entire journey, she moaned, begging for shoes as she found their leathery surface to be soothing to her soul. The men were getting annoyed, striking her a few times as she endured their thrashing, smiling as the monk deliberated if this meant they liked her. Finally, they approached the Kitsune settlement, the pink tree's odd, as Zanryue noted their unusual lack of crystal growths. Their large building made of wood, embellishing architecture, and that monolithic wall was causing her mouth to gape with awe.

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The rocks! There was soo many; unquestionably, these foxes were folks of culture, as they managed to stack the stones that high up. No doubt, even now, as the uncanny silence clutched the land, the warriors above were preparing to toss them down one block at a time. Why else would one gather so much rock? Muscles becoming empowered as her Chi flowed across the very cells. The binding ruptured nearly immediately as the Goat smiled, looking at the vacuous stares of the men. "Thanks! I was lost, I got to throw rocks off that wall now. See you old-timers up top!" She screamed before hastening to the wall, ricocheting from the wooden ramp to a wooden ramp without pause. The years spent within her rocks homeland assisted with maintaining stability. The warrior used to springing onto small surfaces, where missing would result in a fatal plummet.

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The sound of the battle starting straining her ears, the shrieks of war only making her palate water. The ascension picking up pace, as Zanryue kept scaling the left half of the one hundred and forty-seven-foot wall. She was reaching the top as she lept over the kitsunes on section one, hooves planting on the stone railing gazing down at the Horde. The Goat dazed momentarily, her mind unable to comprehend what they were but didn't care. If it can move, it can be crushed. Chest swelling, bringing in the air as arms pulled rearward, pushing bosom foremost. The foxes were disturbed but not going to reject an extra hand. Though, what irked them the most wasn't her forced, irregular entrance. But the armor adhering to her body, as it resembled that of their hunter's pure form. Even the way hermit instinctively manipulated her Chi was peculiar, yet their pause waned as they continued the volley of arrows and caster gunfire.

The rabbit was tossing her attack as she landed just as the Goat sprung into action.

 

At first glimpse, it would be easy to assume she was one of the satyrs, yet there were clear enough stark variations to make one question that initial deduction. All concerns or doubts would vanish as the creature waited till the Horde attempted to reach out toward her with their slimy roots. Head jolting forward, body hunched as Zanryu let out a thunderous bleat. The sonic boom effect generated by her vocal cords overpowering the clamor of war, as her voice produced a war cry so powerful, it sent a powerful gust downward. The force was rushing across the jagged surface, kicking up any loose debris as the arrows were pushed away. 

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The archers enraged, going as far as to curse at the warrior. But, once all those below were thrown off the wall, their opinion quickly shifted. The Goat skipping backward, planting hooves on the ground as she lanced around. Panoramic eyes were widening as she saw the lovely pile of obsidian rocks. Their black sheen, magnitude, sharpness was all bringing a tear to her eyes, glancing over at the bunny and the kitsune's, giving them an intrepid, toothy smile. "Zanryue, I throw rocks now, I bleat. You stab and shoot. We kill no, fun?" Her lexicon inadequate, decrepit, as their tongue was not her primary one. She walked over, lifting two of the rocks, one in each hand, their sharp edges scraping against her armor, like nails to a chalkboard. Yet it's iron-like strength prevented any superficial and lethal damage to the tissue.

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Zanryue stood her station, with the help of the Rabbit Vakrita, holding against the deluge of tangled flesh that was the scourge. The plague was tossing the stillborns within burst mothers wombs as weapons, tethered by the umbilical cord to their mangled motherly host. These horrors clinging to the flesh of those around her, latching teeth as they burrowed their misshapen heads like a tick. They were becoming one with the host, as pus-ridden tumors formulated across their bodies. Writhing tendrils ripping from the shell as the vestige became one with the damnable collective. It was killing her once allies, an act of mercy, the night ending with an eventual surrender. As the imperial fleet sent a volley of cannon fire, hitting the sea of shuffling corpses and ally without clemency.

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The Goat charged down the wall, evading the catwalks' trappings spiraling downward, thanks to her hooves. Reaching the bottom as the bodies of children, women, soldiers, and hellspawn alike burst into pink mist from magical cannon blast. Staining her body as the bubbling mass of death kept rushing over the living, adding to their numbers as she carried two children in her arms. Casterguns was letting loose, sliding under their fire before leaping onto the safety of the vessel. Once others were on board, the ship left the docks, leaving all those not on board to their fate, bleating in defiance, before sitting on the boat to enjoy a delicious shoe, its delectable sole comforting vexed mind. As the foxes' offspring thanked her, in tears, their parents didn't make it to the ships.

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The carcasses of whales piloted by giant necromancers (As she saw the boats to be.) drifting to sea, being ensnared as they watched the forces of darkness raise all the dead, bolstering their strength. A sense of hopelessness permeated the corpse as Zanryue sat bewildered, unsure why everyone was in such a somber mood, as they had a good fight. The conquest of which guaranteed her position within a seat of authority. Docking in the Clockwork Cathedral, the gleeful warrior leaped off the ships, staring at the various sights unimpressed by their lackluster technology. Reaching the walls and bounding over them, the guards refused to let anyone go. She was surmounting the nearby mountainous peaks as she dropped down within the ruins of the obsidian Canyon, long after the Horde had moved on. She was picking up a far too damaged corpse of the abominations, carrying it back to her tribe as proof.

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Hearing weak grumbling, she scaled the wall to find an old Kitsune stuffed within the cracks. The enraged warrior's legs were broken as the Goat tilted her head and Baaa out of confoundment. The sojourner was carrying both him and the corpse, as she felt an inner stirring telling her to tend to the disgruntled death pleading raisin-faced fox. Marching into the court, she dropped the defiled husk of a former Saytyr, telling them with utter fervor of the glorious battle and her actions. Although Zanryue may have embellished them a bit, Sensing no falsehoods, they accepted her within the position of martial discipline. Not appeased to rest on her laurels, the monk spent the next twenty years ascending the ranks. Passing the many trials and tribulations set before her before resting on the second position of authority. The head of their people was now her mother, so she challenged her to death for the reins' passing. 

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Her kin overjoyed, watching with enthusiasm as the two danced; Zanryue eventually snapped her parent in half, bleating as those warm insides washed over her. She was spending her time now governing the final steps in their new technologies, inspiring her people as they pushed toward perfection. Training under the elder, who noticed her Kitsune powers, Declaring himself as Theo Devante as he forced the stubborn creature to embrace his teachings. The language barrier was proving difficult, as they created their hybrid dialect to pierce through it. Imparting the art of Stillness, the elder stranger grew fond of the shoe eater before discovering the woman she fought was her mother. Theo recognizing her as a former lover, quickly pieced together that this chid, Zanryue, was of his loins. Bringing her under his tutelage as he finally revealed the truth of her heritage, what it meant, and gave her a pendant to prove her lineage.

 

Tranquility took hold until one day, Matsumota Crisandra Devante dropped by with her entourage, demanding her aid in the coming conflict. The goats, not one to meddle with the affairs of the outside, reluctantly accepted ordering the Obsidian sheen rocks as payment for this alliance. As Zanryue had a respect for the fox, seeing her destructive nature to outdo her capabilities, perhaps. For the first time in over a century, the Goatkin stepped into the desert to mold it's ever ebbing history once more.