Day 19: Dawn

I didn't have a chance to finish writing yesterday's entry. So much happened, and we were all pretty exhausted. I'll try to catch up to this morning.

First off, Tallow. Poor Tallow. Yeah he's a dirty shit, but he ran in to help me out while Grens headed in the other direction. Once we finished off ol' doghead we took a look at the sneak. He was dying, no two ways about it. I tried to do something for his wound but it was too much. Grens just stood there while I worked on him.

"Back off," the wizard said at last. I looked up at him and he glared at me from behind his cowl. "Back off," he growled.

Uncertain, I took a few steps away from the guy. I made sure to stay away from his skeleton, too. "You need to understand I can't always do this," he told me. "And if I can it's not gonna be for you guys. Don't come begging when someone gets hurt. I'm not a healer, alright?"

I nodded.

"Turn around."

I did. I stared out in the darkness, at the shadowy crates at the edge of the light. I don't know what I expected - a flash of light, some kind of chant or song, something impressive. But all I heard was a shuffle, a moment of silence, and then coughing and sputtering. When I turned around Grens was standing up from kneeling beside Tallow, and Tallow had his eyes slightly open and was looking around weakly.

"Captain?" he asked. "Did we get 'im?"

"Yeah. Nice move, death wish."

Tallow sputtered again, trying to clear his throat. "Up yours, Cap," he said. "I coulda handled him on my own." His eyes drifted over to the other figure in the pool of light, and he took a moment squinting and refocusing. After about five seconds his eyes widened and he jumped. "What the-- get it!"

His hand scrambled for his sword, but Grens forced him back to a sitting position with one hand. Tallow panicked and started struggling.

"It's on our side!" I yelled, trying to quiet him.

"On our side? It's on-- we have-- we're a--" He looked at Grens. "Holy fuck, you're a bone-chanter? What the--"

"TALLOW!" I shouted. He looked at me. "Shut up before I knock you out again." I turned to Grens. "What about Gunther?"

Grens didn't answer right at first. He looked from me, to Gunther's body, and back at me again. Finally he said, "Didn't you listen to me before?" His eyes smouldered as they locked on to mine. He was pissed. "Gunther will be fine."

With some effort and a lot of arguing, I convinced Grens to make the skeleton set down Gunth. He was still breathing and his pulse seemed stronger. Grens was right, with some basic care and a little more time we had Gunth awake, though dazed. I thought we'd be going through another scene with him when he saw the skeleton, but he didn't seem nearly as upset. Surprised, but not upset. He had probably fought a lot of the things at Arero.

Still, I'm uncomfortable with it. Or him. What do you call a corpse? Gods, it could've been a woman for all I know. I asked Grens how we should get rid of it - do we re-kill it, or what? He laughed that dry laugh of his. Told me it'll go when it's time. "You have control over it though, right? You're it's master?" He laughed again.

I convinced Grens to come with me while I went and got my shield. It wasn't damaged in the fall, but it's warping from being in the water so long. We'll see how it turns out.

We also scoured the whole room with the cages. It looks like someone had a pretty sick setup in that mine: all along the wall outside the big cage were shackles, so probably slave labour. Inside the cage must've been where the dogheads were kept, with their own little water supply at the back, so the slaves must have been in constant terror. Looks like the slaves were also used as rations for the dogheads.

Once we were sure the whole holding room (as we call it) was cleared out, we rested for a while. Gunther was up but he wasn't in good shape. We slept fitfully, or at least I did when it was my turn. Tallow and I took turns standing guard and toward the end Gunther horned his way in too. It helped to sleep, but I can't shake the feeling that whatever that mushroom hit me with is still in me. My limbs are just weak, like soggy bread.

Staying in the holding room was creepy, but not as creepy as what happened after. We were gearing up and putting the last of the oil into the lantern when Gunther stood up straight and spoke. "Time for the looting."

"Oh yeah!" Tallow.

I didn't say anything, but I found myself walking over to the pile of eaten dogheads against my will. Setting down my shield, I started rooting around in their remains. Gunther started breaking open crates and barrels, while Grens stripped the clothing off of several near-mummified human bodies shackeld to the wall outside the cage. Tallow ran back and forth, looking over all our shoulders and directing us to check this or that.

I couldn't take it. This was desecration, and it was revolting. I know I've been the target of a few spells in my days, and sometimes I was able to break free or shrug it off. With all my might, all my will, I tried to pull my arms out of that anatomical slag heap. Sweat broke out on my forehead. I gritted my teeth. I pulled my arm as hard as I could, praying and grunting as I struggled.

Not only did I not break the spell, but my arm didn't even seem to notice. It reached further into the skull of a doghead, turned the skull over and my other hand reached in and checked the teeth. Checked the teeth! For what? Gold teeth? Am I going to walk into town and pay for a round of drinks with some goddamn gold dog teeth? I think that's about the time I vomitted.

After our little orgy of greed we pooled what we had found: a handful of silver coins, a few copper, one gold, two arrows, a hammer, a gold tooth, a bronze ring, and a wooden mug. Tallow offered to hold onto it for us, and we silently handed it over. Ugh.

After that it felt like a relief to be merely exploring the rest of the mine. I was trepidatious at first but given the slave situation I figured we had to try and find out who'd been using this place, and how long ago. Considering the surviving doghead and the state of the bodies it didn't seem like the place had been abandoned more than a year ago. Most of the shackles were empty, so most of the slaves had been either taken somewhere else or disposed of. Yet the monsters had been left behind in their cages to die. The whole thing seemed, well, mysterious.

The layout of the place was actually pretty simple. The weird altar over the pit I fell into is where the main tunnel branches, but both branches connect up after a while. They basically form one big circle. Several dead-end mineshafts run off of the main circle, and it looks like work was stopped abruptly in each of those.

At the opposite end of the circle from the altar is a rough stairway that goes down. It leads past several sealed-off rooms, past a guard station with fresh water, and then into the huge holding room. Simple, right? One part mine, one part compound. Not as big as I worried it would be at first, but huge for a mine. Most mines are just one shaft, maybe two, no more than a hundred feet if that. The amount of time and effort it must've taken to excavate the giant tunnel system we stumbled into--well, the mind boggles.

We were all a little hesitant to open the sealed doors, but if there was anything of interest that's where it'd be. Wary of more traps, Tallow had us stand back while he checked the first of the three doors. It was clear. Putting his criminal background to good use, he had us through the door in no time--but it was just a tool storage area.

The second door he thought was clear too, but when he opened it we were greeted with a collapsing support beam and a shower of dirt and soil. We had to dig Tallow out in a hurry, but he was mostly okay. Looking it over, the thing was rigged to take out a lot more support beams than just that one. Lucky for us it had been set a long time ago and part of it failed to trigger. With a string of curses, Tallow opened the door the rest of the way and we found what had been so jealously guarded:

Several crates of now-spoiled food, a couple pieces of furniture, and an empty chest. Yeah, this quest is really one for the sagas.

The third and final door Tallow checked twice. He also checked the tunnel support beams. He proposed we dig around the door instead of going through it, but before he could even finish he knelt down and started working on the lock. I sighed and stood back.

No traps went off, but when Tallow opened the door and held up his light he started cursing. A swarm of rats the likes of which I've never seen came spilling out onto him, and then toward the rest of us. I can't say it was a difficult fight, but we got bit pretty bad and it was near impossibl to hit those things. Plus, they just weren't acting natural. Maybe it's what happens to rats who are constantly stalked by dogheads looking to breed them into little cannibals.

With a number of bites and scratches we killed most of the rats and drove off the last few. The room beyond was the armoury. There wasn't much left, though--several bits of leather armour, a number of clubs and whips, a spare pair of soft-soled shoes, a shortsword and several spears. I took the shortsword. Inside one of the drawers of a beat-up old bureau we also found a tiny bottle. Grens confirmed it's a healing elixir of some kind and I almost jumpd up and down in excitement. I was overcome just holding the thing in my hand, but we decided Gunther should hold onto it since he was he one who kept getting the beat-downs.

At that point we had cleared everything out and were about to get the heck out of the mine. But something was bothering me. Tallow seemed to notice.

"What's wrong, Cap?"

"That trap."

Gunther snorted. "Well we lived through it, right? Let's get out of here."

I shook my head. "No, I mean... why trap the door to the food room? Why not the armoury?"

The four of us exchanged a look. The skeleton clattered a little as it stepped over beside Grens. Then we all jogged into the little pantry, or whatever it was. The room was narrow, but long. The opposite end from the doorway was the obvious spot. I was in the lead so I ran over and knocked on the wall. Being made of dirt, it was hard to tell anything by ear.

"I don't see any signs of a hidden safe or anything, Cap," said Tallow.

"Me neither," I conceded, "But let's make sure." Wresting the spear away from the skeleton, I jammed it into the earth wall as hard as I could. It drove through and into an empty space beyond.

With hoots of laughter and excitement, we ran and got mining tools and busted through. About a foot of packed soil masked a heavy wooden door. It wasn't locked so we stood back and had the skeleton open it for us. Not traps! We crowded closer.

The door opened into a small closet. It held just one thing: a cast iron urn with ashes and scraps of paper in it. We groaned.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Fuck."

"Maybe there's gold in the bottom?"

"How do you lose out on the slave trade? It's like the most profitable job there is." That one was Tallow. I kicked him.

Still, someone had gone to a lot of work to make sure nobody would ever see these documents. By lantern light we went over each scrap carefully.

They hadn't been burned very well. It seemed like whoever did it just threw some embers in a pot with the paper and then sealed it all in a dirt chamber with no air. Smart. Most of the documents had still been destroyed, but parts were legible.

There was a map, apparently of the Snakebacks, that showed several roads or trails that none of us had heard of. A number of landmarks were labelled along each route, which told me the paths probably weren't clearly marked. We couldn't tell much else.

We also found a number of pages of a merchant's register, probably records of slave transactions. Not much good.

There were two documents of great interest, though. One was almost impossible to read but had "hobgobl" in clear penmanship in the middle of one sentence. Tallow wanted to give up at this point, and began wrapping the scraps in a piece of cloth.

"I can try to decipher more of this in better light," he said. "We might be able to get more details out of these scraps."

"I think we already did," I told him.

"Whaddya mean?"

I handed him the last document, part of a letter. There was a date and a salutation; the rest was too smudged with ash. But the salutation was all we needed. It clearly read:

Dear Master Argon

Tallow whistled.

I beamed.

Gunther almost whispered: "The gods-damned Constable."