Mountainous- Part 1

A year after he helped save Spira, Kimahri is now Elder of the Ronso tribe beneath Mt. Gagazet, and is looking to make a few big changes... enjoy!

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Kimahri sat on one of the cushions in the elder's longhouse— now his longhouse. It sat on a rise that looked over the rest of the ronso home, nestled on the slope of Mt. Gagazet. He had been meditating, listening to the sharp winds of the mountain whistling through the high windows of the longhouse's great hall. The leonine warrior's ear flicked, however, as he heard two ronso warriors approach. Both of them saluted him respectfully, bowing their heads and thumping their broad chests.

"Elder Kimahri," one rumbled, his blue face ringed with a golden mane. "Report for village progress is ready."

Kimahri nodded gravely. "Go on, Zevron."

Zevron nodded. "Fortifications are almost completed. Main gate is repaired. Food stores are full, and family homes are next to repair."

Kimahri arched a brow, studying the warrior's stony look. "Zevron is not telling Kimahri something."

Zevron sighed. "Ronso are restless, Elder. Many feel there is more ronso must do, instead of merely rebuilding village."

Kimahri stroked his white mane, turning to the dark-maned ronso next to Zevron. "Doren will speak his thoughts."

Doren nodded to his leader. "Elder Kimahri, Doren and Zevron understand the Elder's wisdom, but many of the ronso do not. Many ronso wish to continue raiding the Guado, for all their kind have done to ronso."

Kimahri shook his head fervently. "No, this is foolishness. The ronso number less than a thousand, now. Ronso cannot look for fights where are none are to be had. The Guado responsible for so much shame and loss are already dead."

"The problem, Elder Kimahri, is that this does not bring back the ronso dead." Doren said pointedly.

The Elder sighed, running his hand over his forehead and his broken horn. "This is a time for healing. For growing. Ronso strength will be shown by our resilience, our ability to build and grow. The other ronso must understand this."

"Ronso will, in time. But the ronso elders who led the ronso during peacetime are few and far between," Zevron said. "Zevron regrets to say this, but Elder Kimahri is an unusual ronso leader."

Kimahri shrugged. "Kimahri has proved himself before, and he can do it again." He stood to his full height. To humans and other races, he dwarfed them, his body strong and well-muscled, but amongst his own, he was short and scrawny, even after he had done so much for his people, and the world of Spira. 

Zevron and Doren were both larger than him, their muscular physiques and thickly roped arms marking them as some of the strongest warriors in the tribe, but they were no fools— they knew what Kimahri had done for their people, and recognized his own might. But they also knew that not all the ronso were as far-seeing as their new Elder.

The two warriors exchanged looks before nodding to Kimahri. "Perhaps Elder Kimahri should meditate further up the mountain. The holy mountain has always guided ronso Elders, and announcing a pilgrimage would go over well with the rest of the village."

Kimahri nodded curtly. "Ronso warriors have always carried the wisdom of the ronso with them. Kimahri thanks you; he will prepare at once."

The ronso moved off to his private quarters, which was humble, but comfortable. Kimahri had collected a few mementos from his friends, who had helped save his people and the world, but otherwise had only picked a few things like a comfortable bed and his spears displayed on the wall to make the space his own. He grabbed a few personal items, but otherwise packed light; he wouldn't need much, as the sacred mountain would provide, so the old wisdom said.

He moved through the longhouse, thinking to stop by the quarters of his warriors, but his ears perked up when Kimahri heard his name.

"Elder Kimahri is wise— no ronso is fit to question him," one warrior said.

Kimahri dared to smile. He had at least won the trust of some of his men.

"Kimahri is weak!" Another declared. "He went through his trial, but that does not mean he is right to lead the ronso! The enemies and invaders of sacred Gagazet still live, when any other good and righteous ronso Elder would have seen retribution for all that was done!"

The ronso grimaced.

"It is hard to serve Elder Kimahri, when he is so small," another ronso groused. "Many of the greatest ronso elders have been the biggest and strongest of ronso! It is our way."
 "It is our way," the second warrior grumbled in agreement. "Ronso elders must not only respect sacred Gagazet, they must mirror her strength, her power and stability."

Kimahri frowned; he had heard enough. This talk, still. Perhaps it had been too much to ask— he had been the smallest and weakest of his tribe, but when he rose up to defeat the tribe's strongest warrior, he thought this talk was over. He could not grow taller, but perhaps there was another way to grow stronger. He had proven size did not matter when being a warrior, but perhaps things were different for an Elder. If it would mean he could keep the peace, and allow his people to rebuild, he would do anything to make himself the biggest ronso ever seen, one way or another. 

Kimahri left the village to a fair amount of fanfare, making a show of his pilgrimage and paying reverence to the sacred mountain the ronso relied upon for their home. The faithful amongst the village watched the skies for signs, and spotting the flight of eagles on a clear sky, it seemed the Elder received good omens.

The climb began, and it was not an arduous task; Kimahri had been this way before. The snow and ice did not bite, and the path came to him as if he had walked the path but yesterday. He followed the wind, and went where it bid him; and here, he was rewarded by Mt. Gagazet. He was led to a large cave, the wind whipping around and then fading at the entrance. Inside, he saw steam; signs of a hot spring, with a smooth and easy floor. Kimahri nodded, then turned his eyes to the stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

"Gagazet, Kimahri hears the voice of the sacred mountain! He thanks you for this blessing, but feels he must ask more. Kimahri works to become the biggest of all ronso, to hold the tribe together. If Gagazet leads Kimahri, his gratitude is endless," he declared.

Kimahri listened intently, one of his ears flicking as he respectfully knelt, listening to the mountain. The wind still whistled through the cave, but having grown up so long in the shadow of Gagazet, he knew how to listen— the wind wasn't merely whipping around, it was flowing through the cave to somewhere else. The ronso moved through the cave, past the hot springs, and then felt the wind whip around what appeared to be solid rock, and, on closer inspection, artificial— a false wall.

Kimahri grunted, pushing against the false wall, and soon found an opening, and there, the mountain revealed its bounty. The false wall hid a base of some kind. Kimahri found boxes and crates stacked high, the signs of habitation a long time ago, but most eye-catching, banners showing the sign of Yevon.

The ronso's eyes widened— a hidden base for the old temple, near the peak of Gagazet. Kimahri ran his claws over the nearest crate, and then pried it open. He couldn't believe it; there were weapons, medical supplies, potions, and enough food and provisions to survive up here for a very long time… but perhaps not so long, now. Kimahri would sell the weapons, as the ronso hardly needed more, and put it to the good of the village. The medical supplies he would send to the tribe's village, as for the food… Kimahri knew he would never be as powerfully built as his warriors. But if sheer size is all it would take to win their respect, well, Gagazet had provided- and Kimahri could work up his appetite.

The ronso opened up the crates, and viewed the contents of his coming feast— food that would last a long time, aided by the ice and snow of the mountain. Salted fish, bags of rice, dried vegetables, jerky— yes, he could do quite well, here. He rekindled the campfire, and grabbed a few potions from the medical supplies he was familiar with to keep his appetite up— then, he began to gorge, thanks be to Yevon.

This impromptu pilgrimage lasted days as Kimahri ate through the hidden outpost's supplies, leaning on the recipes he had learned from his friends, like Yuna, Lulu, Wakka, even Tidus. He reminisced on good times and better meals, and always forcing himself to eat more— an extra bowl of rice, an extra piece of fish, one more broth or X-Potion to keep his energy up. Perhaps the mountain was providing for him in more ways than one, as his growth was unprecedented, almost supernatural the longer he spent in the cave.

Every part of him began to thicken, and his gear, armor, and ceremonial clothes as Elder began to grow tight. His belly gradually rounded out, pooling and filling out the space in his lap whenever he sat down to another huge meal. When the supplies at last began to grow thin, and Kimahri had lost count of his days on the mountain, the effects were startling— he had bull-rushed his way into morbid obesity, his round, billowing tank of a gut close to dragging on the ground as his fat-swaddled legs as big as tree trunks pressed up against it, making it bounce with each waddling step. Every last inch of the ronso was now puffed up and inflated, round and stuffed. 

His blue fur, streaked with white, gave him the rough look of an iceberg as he hefted himself up and began to move towards the exit, the thick flanks of his newly flabby body pressing against the walls of the cave— Kimahri was very worried for a moment that he would get stuck. Thankfully, the blubbery ronso managed to leave the cave, hoisting a crate of supplies over his shoulder as proof of what he found. As he began to lumber back down the mountain path, his new boulder of a belly bouncing with every step, Kimahri smiled, dimpling his round cheeks. He was looking forward to seeing the faces of the tribe when they saw him now; none could argue he was the biggest in the tribe.

He knew some might still question his strength, however— for that, he had a plan. First, Kimahri would need to hold a grand feast, and ensure all his warriors were in attendance. He was not done growing yet.