There will always exist places civilized people should never go, by decree of God.

As learned by the most holy king, who spurned his divine armies on in a great pilgrimage. He set them on everyone and everything, for they were all his to control in the name of the great divine; he was chosen by God for this purpose. Each city would submit or crumble, each individual of sound mind would kneel. But in the great wisdom granted to him, the king accepted that there existed places God did not wish for him to conquer. He would not build a city on the sea, nor tunnel a town underground; these were obvious. What was not so clear was eventually made so in his battles, and none more so than his attempt to take Mt. Demogon from its savages, and the tragedy that followed.

A year long battle was waged between his armies and the savages of the mountain, until in good conscience the king could no longer go on fighting for such a paltry place. He settled on a treaty, and in his great kindness chose to believe that the savages were still men enough that they must serve some divine purpose. He offered them friendship, a standing in his armies where their talents ought to shine. God though, was not yet done teaching the king his lesson.

The men of Mt. Demogon are in fact, not men. When they were brought to the righteous battlefield, their true nature was clear; they were the namesake of their homeland: demons of the highest order. Not even civilized combat was within their capabilities. They slew without surrender, ate of the blood of the slain regardless of which side they'd come from, and like any proper demon, they grew stronger from the all too human sacrifices fed to them by the king's recklessness.

His lesson quickly learned, the king sought to undo his mistake. He gathered up his remaining warriors of Mt. Demogon, and set them free on the front lines... before quietly retreating his main forces from behind them. It was for the safety of civilized men the he did what he did, believing the savages would die at the hands of the unholy. But God does not impart a lesson without ensuring enough pain that it'll stick, nor does he grant the might to deal with demons in any but the truly royal. While many of the demon men died, those that remained grew enraged and turned against him. A fresh war was waged unlike the world had ever seen except at the base of Mt. Demogon; their plague had been spread.

Towns were ransacked merely to draw in the king's righteous forces, which were then set upon at night or whenever they showed any mortal weakness. In their camps, in their tents, and latrines, without any of the honors of proper combat, the demon man spawned and made themselves like entire armies individually. They slaughtered and ate of the kings most divine agents. With their bare hands they ripped out the hearts of the king's beloved until he had no choice but to enforce his own divine powers upon them.

The king returned the few remaining Demogons to their mountain. He prayed forgiveness to God and in his piety removed those lands from his kingdom. Such a place was where no civilized man should ever be... only savages, demons.

The mountain itself was an unsuspecting place. Likely an extinct volcano, it jutted up from the ground without a proper chain of mountains to guide it. In every other direction there were fertile fields which had once drawn the king in. Slowly though, they gave way to the forest which rose up the mountain, denser and denser with prickling pines. When he'd first arrived, the king had seen smoke coming from the forest up high, suggesting further the place's volcanic origins. But, as it turned out, those had been the campfires of the savages.

Now there were few, if any such plumes. Perhaps because the savages had learned to conceal themselves better, or because time had finally dwindled their numbers low; no one had ever encounter a female savage after all. But his promise to God and his healthy respect for the consequences prevented the king from attempting again his conquest of Mt. Demogon. Even the local flora and fauna did not properly suit the needs of the civilized. Only the dirt had value, and of dirt there was plenty in other places.

The king though, in God's wisdom, was not made immortal. In time, he would pass, and when that day came the kingdom would go to God's next servant. This, everyone agreed, was the true purpose of a woman. It was through her that God would act. The daughter of the king, guided by divine intervention, would wed the next king.

What then was to be believed when the princess fled? Was the "choice" she'd initially made defunct? Had her "chosen" made some great offence before God? Surely any such argument could be made for the kingdom's next leader... were it not that it was believed the princess had now been drawn to Mt. Demogon. Surely then that explained it. Due to her strong bond with the divine, the princess was also susceptible for the guile of the devil. All great lights produce a great shadow.

Perhaps, it would be proof of the new king's fortitude that he would retrieve her from darkness. Or so came the proclamation of the old king, unwilling himself to set foot on such unholy ground even for the sake of his daughter.

"So how tha fuck did we get stuck doing this?" asked one soldier of another as they sat around their campfire. A third was in their storage tent, rifling through supplies for their evening meal.

"You ask tha fooker who writes all those shit stories," came the second soldiers response. He was nearing middle aged, short hair and wearing dull leather armor while the two younger men maintained actual plate. "'My Lord' if it'sa divine right fer you to bounce on tha princess, why don' you go get 'er...' See how fast that gets your lazy ass shoved in a cell."

Grouching continued over a cask of alcohol that was being passed between them while the shadow of Mt. Demogon stood overhead. It was orange in the evening glow of the sun, and the second of the two younger men came from the tent with a cask of cooking supplies and a map. "Well... least the trail is solid this far," he announced, tracing the recent set of tracks across the map. "Prob' be rougher now she's ditched the horse, tracks is smaller... Can ye believe the message she left on its ass too?" he asked, sparking uproarious laughter only aided by drink, "I didn' think princesses knew them words."

"Jus' be happy we got ourselves 'nother horse. Sure we'll catch up wit' 'er tomorrow. God on our side we won' step foot on that damn cursed mountain," responded the more mature of the group, tugging at his leather armor until the others gave him pause.

"Eh, you think it really is cursed? Demon men and all that?"

"Course it ain't you twits," continued the elder again, finishing his task after a moment's hesitation. "But since yer so scared 'bout it, how 'bout you two swap watches tonight an' lemme sleep?"

With more cursing and more drinking, some fresh sticks were thrown on the fire, and the captain took to the tent for his evening rest while the others debated their rotations for the evening. Though none of the three made it through to the morning. Their horses scattered first, then a hefty rock flew through the air and destroyed their fire pit. The young soldier on guard was then the first and only one to get on his feet before he died. He fell with enough of a thump to wake the next guard, who died by the same stone which scattered their fire.

The captain woke up only because of his bladder, else he might have survived. He stepped out into the dark and griped that it was too damn dark without the fire. Though only after a moment did he realize the figure standing by the ember was too large to be one of his soldiers, even in their plate metal. "Oi, you..." The figure was holding their map, studying it before his sturdy silhouette turned and put the final soldier out of his misery.

Okay then! So hopefully I put enough of a prologue here to get the story across without boring anyone. Basically, there's this prince fella, and he wants to marry this princess but she doesn't. So she runs off to this mountain where her father left behind a bunch of supposed mad men after a war some time ago, figuring no one would chase her there. Well... some have, but now they've been taken out by one of the mountain's occupants who supposedly may not have ever even seen a woman! The details there are something for us to hash out, I figure.

Essentially, the way I want to take this is that the man on the mountain tracks down the princess himself and takes her in for one reason or another. Though the prince continues to try and take her back, resulting in tale of bonding against the struggle to survive where the mountain man becomes the princess' protector rather than captor. I'm sure I'm missing some details to tell you, so if you've got questions then send them my way! Otherwise, feel free to start off with whatever the princess has been up to since she ditched her horse.