John Mirnat enjoyed a simple life. At 6’ 3” and 247lbs, he had his father’s large frame with his mother’s ginger hair and green eyes. His unkept beard would have brushed his belt had it not been so unruly you’d confuse it for a burning shrub. He’d left the Bell Coast alone in the mass migration during the second tribal wars. Not many had use for a scrawny five-year-old, but he survived, which was more than most. Now past his 47th year, he was seasoned in the untamed wilderness that ran along the northern border of the great sand plains.
Being a guide in the Laurithian Mountains hadn’t made him rich in coin, but it was a comfortable living in a relatively peaceful area among friends. The Elven kingdom of Ithion had remained diplomatic and open, leading to it’s large mercantile network. While the roads were well kept facilitating trade, the harsh winters and spring squalls kept him seasonally employed, primarily in the aid stations that dotted the passes. He guided hunting and adventure tours as the mood took him. His reputation brought him many visitors and potential clients.
He had several routes he’d rotate to not burden the game populations and used these trips to cull the weaker wildlife. A long practice the guides that had worked these areas established over the centuries. Due to this it was considered the finest hunting in the central reaches.
He reserved one route for the most obnoxious or wealthier fares, often the same, as it kept the problems they caused to a minimum. An old cavern system accessible by forty feet of hard climb up a sheer rockface. It wasn’t a long climb, but the subtle inverse and minimal purchase proved a strain to pampered constitutions. Between the climb and hike there, the pompous chatter blissfully faded out into serene silence. While the twisting tunnels were darkly intimidating, the main cavern was inspiring.
Both entrances into the main chamber gave excellent views, but he generally took them to the higher ledge if they still had some wind in them. It involved some backtracking to meet up with the path to the floor level, or a thirty foot climb down, but that single view saved him any complaint from the trek in. A large moss valley appeared to remain in perpetual twilight due to the abundance of luminescent life. The rough granite that formed the perimeter glittered as if covered in stars pulled from the night sky. Two rivers cut through the middle, merging before plummeting into the abyss on the far side to the southeast. The air sang with vibrant life upon the backdrop of the fall’s echoing roar. The vast plain of vegetation damping the sounds to calming levels.
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He’d tried to trace the two rivers on several occasions, but both exited fissures he was unable to safely navigate far. There had been attempts to probe the waterfall in the past with other guides, but it appeared to drop into a large pool with an unstable shore a little over one hundred thirty feet below. Measurements of it’s depths put it at well over 300 feet deep before they ran out of line, losing two weights in the process. With the sheer flow of water, no one was dumb enough to swim it, potion or no potion.
Other paths led from the central cavern, but few were mapped very far. A combination of poor footing, obstructions, and steep descents delayed any further exploration. In the prior 6 years since he’d first discovered the system, he’d never come across anything to concern him. The constant sounds of life could be unnerving with creatures passing in and out of the shadowed areas, but it was peaceful and safe. He always set up camp in the same location to prevent his guests from creating any damage that couldn’t regrow. The ample fishing and unique animals made the hunts a success.
Decades passed and the route became harder on the aging guide. Little more had been mapped, few were left who remembered the exact location. Waning strength began to find the climb hard, his footing less sure on passage floors. Tremors shook him in his sleep, thinning skin bruised on small pebbles beneath his bedding he would have never noticed in his youth. He found his skills diminished as he was less able to point out quarry for his patrons. His fires would no longer last the night without constant tending. This place that had once brought him peace now brought his mortality into full view.
He retired from his lifelong joy and found it anew in sharing his wisdom with the future at the Academy of Ithion. Hundreds of pupils found a profound love of conservation and stewardship of the land. His fellow faculty respected his profound knowledge and steady manner. A man who lost his family and no children of his own, but thousands who called him grandfather.
John Mirnat passed away peacefully at 98, a kind man mourned by three kingdoms. Laid to rest with honor among friends. The cost covered by the generations he had brought the joyful spirit of the outdoors to.