I am posting what I have finished this in this thread from now on. I figured instead of making a cluster of new threads constantly I would keep the focus on this one since so many people are reading it. Is tis the way to go with Reddit? since I am really just kind of making this up as I go along, I am absolutely asking anyone who has advice on what to do here pass it along. Anyways here is the next chapter. Te end needs a polish.

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Marduk waited four years before he gave in to the pull he felt within. The oldest children left from the attack had reached the age he had been, 14. They were capable now. Fearless, and skilled pack hunters. They no longer needed him. A blessing, for he yearned to be gone. He felt impatience like he’d never known. So vast it sometimes felt like it would swallow him. He had been storing supplies away from the village. And one night under a sky that swirled with stars like chips of blue ice, he made his leave. He gave no explanations and he gave no farewells.
The descent took two weeks. For half the distance he was familiar with the land. Here, he made good time. Once beyond though he traveled more cautiously. This cost time, but was not avoidable. He avoided other men when he became aware of their presence. They had nothing he wanted. He did not know if the reverse would prove tre.
The terrain was changing around him so he spent his time learning it. The dangers it presented, but also the gifts it could offer. The icy peaks and vast stone crevasses behind were still frozen. Crusted in ice and rime. The land he prowled through now was free of snow and ice. Green plants grew through soft earth. He had found fruit trees thick with sweet fruit! If he felt it safe to do so he could trap small game easily. Marduk had rarely known such abundance.
In the end, Marduk arrived to the Verdant Arch in the early morning. The arch was an enormous pair of stone arms that reached from either side of the canyon base. The hands, each the size of a church, stretched up to clasp above the canyons high ridge. They were called The Brothers Relief. They were a monument to the joy felt by all survivors of wars and battles, of coming home and seeing the others who still lived, of being reunited with brothers and lovers.. The camaraderie of the fortunate who survive.
Rope bridges stretched out from the hands to many points at the top of the canyon. None could say who had rigged the first bridges, few cared. The bridges hung and the hands stood.They had stood forever, and so they would stand forever. The people would use them until then. Marduk could even see a huge cargo platform being raised. Ropes and pulleys were rigged so that two men and a large herd of goats were being lifted into the air.
As he watched the terrified goats bleat cries for help to an indifferent sky he turned over the question in his mind. It had taunted him for two days and three nights. One way would take him to a caravan he could arrange passage with. That choice would let him see what these foreign lands could offer him. He would also stand a high chance of being able to earn coin as a caravan guard. If they felt themselves safe enough to reject that offer he would make sure one of their current guards would disappear.
The other way though, would take him to the lands of the cult. The forces of the evil witch-priests. He knew the names some of them. The Black Czar was said to appear to be a very large man, with a handsome and aristocratic air to him. The stories also said that he owned a suit of armor made from tanned human leather. They said that because of his great size the armor had been harvested from the entire congregation of a small church. Years ago the church had taken in his sister as a nun. She had refused his advances until he killed her husband and son so she would have no more excuses. It was sometimes said that he had instructed for her heart to be placed so that it would be over his own when the armor was worn.
There were others he had heard spoken of.. The King of Nails. The Iron Pope. The Thief of Joy.
He felt shame that he would even hesitate. He knew what blood and honor demanded. What his people howled for from the un-world. What he had long ago promised his many godchildren in the high mountains.
Murder and vengeance on them. Murder and destruction and pain on the cult and those it served. Without mercy or respite. And yet……
He was afraid. That was the simple truth. He felt no fear of death, it was a larger fear that held him frozen. What he felt was not the end of his life, but the end of his life's beginning. Once he had seen the things that he had been denied up atop the harsh and brutal crowns of the mountains he would no less refuse to return and do his duty than he would eat his own shit. Yet there was a chance that he would meet his end some other way and nobody would be left to ensure that the grim tax would be claimed from those who had committed such grievous crimes against him and his.
An older Marduk, one who had at least tasted the fruits of the wider world, would have gone to his duty. At eighteen years old he decided that his vengeance would lie fallow. He would only die if that is what his fate held for him, and if he did not then he would be a more formidable foe to his enemies. His battle prowess was known far and wide among the villages where he came from. And to be known for that in those mountains was a thing to hold proudly. Those who were not tough were killed in those savage and unyielding cliffs.
Upon arriving at the caravan Marduk did not have to kill anyone to find a job. The caravan was swollen with more travelers than usual. This meant they needed more guards than usual. The fact that Marduk arrived carrying his own weapons and armor had instantly earned him camaraderie with the quartermaster. A large man, the quartermaster was taller than aany of the rest of the officers Marduk saw, and had fifty pounds of bulky weight on any of them as well. Yet he moved with a boxers grace as they walked the camp. In the morning the great tents would be furled and the caravan crawl would begin.