[i]Fenrir amended the final steps, reciting the first few verses of the Book of Revelations quietly to himself in prayerful meditation when the sound of an archer's revelry fell on his ears from on high. Vast empty space atop a mountain made for beautiful acoustics running down it, and so the Wolf had no trouble making out what the noise was. The man furrowed his brow in confusion. The only ones ever to a send the Mount other than Fenrir himself were Father Able and the parishioners of the Church. What also struck him as queer were the mutterings he was barely able to make out as human vocals before each impact of the arrow. Unable to discern the words said, he decided to climb on, and see this new visitor. Jostling the hefty bags of groceries in his hands to reattach his grip, he began once more to climb to the top, returning to his prayerful readings of the verses engraved on the front of each step. As his head poked over the ridge, he could make out what looked to be a young man, repeatedly firing arrows at a dummy a few meters away from the western wall of the Church. Curious, he finished the steps, words of the new, eternal Jerusalem and the First and Final Mass slipping out of his mouth with practiced ease. Moving to the double-wooden doors of the Church, he set the bags filling his arms up against them, flexing his fingers and patting the leather of his jackets sleeves a few times. Crossing said arms over his chest, he leaned against the post of the door and began to watch, allowing him to hear the Father in the Church, practicing his homily for Sunday. This brought a smile to the aging Crusader's face, in tandem with the newcomer, whom he'd wait to speak with until after they'd finished their little training session.[/i]