Fable - Ask A Dark and Damp Job

[Roland Grayson]

Elbion had seen better days. Nearly being leveled and marked off of all maps due to unnatural forces tended to do that. But she was recovering and rebuilding. That meant a deep starving hunger for all things known as resources. More labor. More wood. More metal. More stone. More. More. More.... It was a good time to be a producer of raw materials around Elbion.

Roland found himself hired on a new job because of it. Some wealthy merchant had a mine near the coast North of the city. Just follow the water up till it's source, cross through a path in the mountain and within sight of the great waters that was the Gulf of Liad one could find a rich deposits of iron and tin. Lucrative resources as everyone and everything was in need of one or both on a daily basis. Even if they got a bit lazy they would be turning a profit for the merchant.

The issue was the work had come to a halt. No tin. No iron. No word from the mines. A few groups had been sent with orders to inquire about the status of the mines and why nothing was forthcoming. None of the groups returned. Silence was costly during a boom. The merchant couldn't have that. Mercenaries, sellswords, wizards, witches, rogues, and thugs. Any and all who might be of use had been hired on. Those willing to investigate would be paid handsomely if they could figure out what was going on. A bounty placed on a resolution.

The rented horse snorted as the sellsword had brought it to a stop. The mines were in sight a few miles away. No smoke. No lights. No signs of life. The gathered group was stopping for a break called for by the company foreman in charge of those hired. A guard dog to make sure no sticky fingers plucked anything important while working.

Roland dismounted and stretched his leg then scanned the group again. A couple of armored mercenaries like himself. One person that looked like a hunter. A couple of individuals that resembled scholars with hard leather brigandines on. A small gang of thugs looking to go legit or just thinking it was easy coin. And then a drow. Less common this way.

His attention went to his horse as he checked the beast over to make sure they were in good condition still. Only his fellow mercenaries and one of the scholars seemed to do the same. He questioned how well thought out this job was by his employer. A bit high strung of a middle aged man, but had seemed sensible enough at the time. Instead of grabbing a group or band that knew how to function together this felt like a slapped together crew more for speed of getting on task than anything else. Hopefully everyone was competent and adaptable cause his gut was telling him this job wasn't going to be worth the pay.

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC

He had a sword. More than one. But he wasn’t a sellsword per se. What was he, really? What was anybody who played the part of a mercenary when it came to this job? A mercenary, plain as day, he thought. There wasn’t much of a difference in the moment.

That moment, he had been in the City of Elbion, sitting alone in some portside tavern, spending his time sipping stale wine, eyes roving over patrons. That was when the job offer came his way amid others. A contract to find out why the flow of ore had stopped in the mines like the flow of more palatable wine.

Fine. He might not be a merc on record, neither a bounty hunter, but if he was going to live outside his domain as a drow with little and less to his name then he needed gold or silver to get by. So Zyndyrr of the House of K’yoshin found himself at the back of the gang.

On a mare of white hide, the rider’s dark green cloak draped over its sides and hind, hood pulled over his head, though countenance less hidden in the daylight for any who glimpsed him. He looked to his contemporaries. A few were giggling over nothing. At least one was sipping from a wineskin.

Fools. Their employer was itching for a remedy to his problem, certainly, but this was always the problem with posting a job on the public notice board: You ended up with wretches and idiots. Tools. There was a tool for every task and a task for every tool, his lord father had taught him. These fools would be no different.

Mines in the distance, lifeless, at least from this perspective. Hiding. Descending his horse, Zyn paced forth, visage veiled, but not so hidden. He did not need to check his steed. He knew his belongings were secure.

“No word from miners. No return from the inspectors either,” he told no one in particular. One more able-looking sellsword was beside him, and he did check his horse. “Perhaps ghosts have swallowed their souls.” He turned toward that merc with a smirk. “Or maybe they fell down a hole?”

Roland Grayson

 

[Roland Grayson]

The drow began making snarky comments. The rougher individuals laughed, snickered, and began making their own comments in return. The least creative one Roland noted was about how one of them wanted to fall down the drow's hole. This came along with gyrating his hips. No surprise it was from the biggest, dumbest looking one.

The sellsword did look to the drow to see if their reaction would make it funny or not.

The foreman began yelling to get people under control again with an angry sneer. That same one likely used to get lazy workers back on the job. One he had gotten plenty of times himself if he was honest.

"Doubt it was either. Hoping it is goblins or something similarly smart enough to talk to. If it is a creature of some kind then going to be a pain. Means we will have to kill it to deal with the issue."

Roland voiced his opinion which got people looking at him. The foreman seemed to still be irritated but less at the logic than the idea of making a deal with goblins concerning his mines. The scholar looking one just began to discuss local histories and possibilities of what creatures were in the area. The thugs just got on about hoping to loot a goblin horde. The mercenaries understood what Roland meant. Their faces darkened a bit because of it.

"So what is the plan boss? Divide and search the facilities then set up a center of operations and rough patrol schedule then turn our attention to the mines?"

The foreman frowned a moment before spitting at the ground in Roland's general direction. "Plan is to do what you're told and leave the thinking to me. Being paid to listen not talk."

Before anything else could be said the foreman yelled for everyone to saddle back up and get to the mines before dark.

The sellsword mounted back up and moved along. That feeling in his gut only got stronger.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Well, at least someone could appreciate some amusement. More than one as the drow’s ears listened better than his eyes could ever see amid any sunlight and then some.

“Yeah! Maybe they all fell down a well!”
“Got thrown in from a hagraven’s spell!”
“Ooh charcoal skin! I’ll fall in your hole!”
Gyration of hips. “Eh? Let’s go for a roll!”

Oh, yes. Zyn found it difficult to look away from them, as if he was looking at rats in a maze or studying insects. You are a dumb one. He stood with hands on hips, blinking at the idiots. If anyone expected some witty response from him then they were out of luck; these morons did not deserve his partaking in their conversation. He just watched and listened to foolishness. That much was his own amusement.

The foreman did all the responding for him. Goblins. That was of course another possibility. There were more than three. It wasn’t the foreman who had offered this tip into the conversation after unleashing a verbal whipping, however, but the sellsword beside the drow.

Goblins. Hagravens. Dragon hybrids as the guy with spectacles mentioned. It didn’t matter anyhow. Zyn was on this mission to get paid and he would one way or the other. The sellsword’s logic continued on and there was no doubt about it. The foreman would not have spat in his general direction otherwise, as if threatened by intelligence.

Suddenly it was Zyn who wished he had brought along some wine. There was a sour taste in his mouth from the way one thug licked his lips at him. I’ll be taking that tongue. By dusk, if the occasion called for it.

The drow mounted his horse as the group moved forth on their course. Needing no company, he decided to trot alongside the smarter sellsword anyway. “Creature of some kind,” Zyn repeated, keep his eyes on the horizon. “You speak from experience.”

He all but stated the obvious. Some were witty enough to make it sound like they had experience. This one seemed different. “How many jobs have you taken on like this?”

Zyn didn’t mind throwing idiots to the front line as fodder. Yet it would just as much serve his interest to have someone fight beside him as a less expendable limb of which he might rely on with his own two swords. For the duration of the mission, of course.

Roland Grayson

 

[Roland Grayson]

Progress was slow yet rushed on the way towards the mines. Not very surprising given the foreman's attitude so far. What was a bit surprising was how into the drow the big dumb one remained even after the comment hadn't gotten much of a reaction. Take it as the elf playing hard to get?

The drow rode up next to the sellsword and spoke. Bit of small talk to probe for information. Not a bad idea getting to know who you would be working with on a potentially fatal job. He should try to do the same after this as well.

"Not much experience with mines. This sort of investigation work though is one of the more common jobs I tend to get as a sellsword. When merchants have problems or nobles want to know about something but can't send their own men then we tend to get hired. Won't know for sure what we are dealing with till we get there.... But I'm not leaning towards it being a creature."

Some of the others nearby could hear him and began to listen in as well. Confirming their own thoughts? by the gods he hoped so. The ruffians seemed like they hadn't put much thought into things yet, but if the others were the same then things would get bad fast once it got hectic.

"Usually when it is a beast or creature of some kind causing problems there are reports leading up to the big incident. Never truly that surprising or unpredictable. There also would be survivors. The lack of information and survivors implies a pre-planned incident and some kind of purpose. Reliable information was suppressed. Feels like what an army would do to draw another into an ambush."

The foreman seemed to have caught on about the talking. He leaned back and yelled, "If you have time to gab then we aren't moving fast enough. Everyone pick up the pace. Now!"

Then the man began riding his mount harder kicking up dust on them all. Roland just sighed and followed by doing the same. Not the first unreasonable employer he has had to deal with.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Sometimes silence was the best reply. Those who antagonized were often fed with a worse antagonist. Whether the same could be said for the men in the near distance was yet left for future circumstances. For now, the drow just kept his eye on those who had irritated as much as amused him.

The same was less said for the mercenary beside him. The horses walked into a trot, faster into a canter. Zyn’s companion’s response was simple and typical. He sounded just as much as someone who had done his fair share of work, if a guy who wasn’t shy about offering his opinion on what he expected ahead of him, the drow and everyone else.

Creatures in the plural, perhaps. Could be goblins, could be bandits, could be hags if not quite hagravens. From sellsword to adventurer, opinions were like the assholes that drow had as well as what at least one thug wanted to have.

“A sound theory,” Zyn offered in response to his contemporary, keeping his eyes off him. “Then again, perhaps these miners dug too deep.” He was purposed in his speech, aware that others were listening as he offered a contrary theory. “Woke something up that preferred to sleep and keep alone.”

The foreman didn’t like the chat. Zyn expected it was yet again because of the intellect within it. Perhaps he was used to dealing with idiots, if not preferred it, or maybe it was Zyn’s arrogance getting the better of him.

No matter, his canter sped into a gallop as his mare drove ahead. He wasn’t alone as the group moved for the mines.

“We approach,” the foreman echoed what everyone already knows. Up close, the entrance to the mines was not littered with skulls and the drow heard no whispers of souls. No lights. No signs of life. Just as was witnessed from a distance.

“You, you, and you.” The foreman pointed at three individuals as if at random, but he clearly selected those more capable. “Scout out the entrance. Don’t go in. Feel free to scream if you get burned or worse.” He snickered. Zyn was not among those chosen.

Roland Grayson

 

[Roland Grayson]

The drow's theory didn't really count or disprove anything for Roland. Once again if they had dug too deep there would have been someone to report. Even natural disasters had survivors to tell their tales. It was possible however for it to have been something too subtle or quick for at least one person to react, but unlikely the case.

The mine they approached looked perfectly normal and perfectly abandoned as if all those there had just vanished into the air where they stood. All tools dropped to the ground. Burnt out torches. Buckets of water, stone, and dirt spilled out. Half eaten food. Wineskins dying the ground near their mouths red. No sign of a single soul.

Their fearless and more thoughtless boss already began barking orders. The two other sellswords and the hunter were sent off to the mine. Roland thought that a waste. Better to use the hunter to scout the open area while you replaced him with one of the scholars and one of the sellswords with one of the ruffians. A better spread of eyes looking for different things and it left them outside less vulnerable if this was an ambush.

His eyes darted around the buildings. Bunkhouses. Office. Warehouses. Forge and smithy. Mealhouse. Storehouse for their goods. Stable that lacked any beasts of burden. All in a roughly circular layout around the mine entrance. Perfect for ambush.

Even before the foreman began the next round of orders, Roland had dismounted. His shortsword drawn and his shield taken in hand. Arrows would be a pain in such an open space.

"Search the buildings. No looting or no pay for any of you!" The foreman shouted looking to the ruffians and the drow as he said the last part.

The sellsword just flashed the drow a smile then moved towards the storehouse. If it was a raid they would start where the supplies were at. Warehouses no doubt full of iron, tin, and stone in various states for sale and transport. The gold may be kept in the office or may be in the storehouse. All the food, tools, and other goods however would definitely be in the storehouse.

He came up next to the door. A latch and lock built into it. He took his blade and carefully pushed down on it. It moved so unlocked. When he had it all the way down and heard the click he pushed it inward then waited.... Nothing happened. No traps.

The shield held before him he rolled into the doorway ready for a surprise attack.... The place was empty.... Not empty empty. All the supplies still remained left in the same state as before. The faint scent of early rot was the only indication it wasn't a normal storehouse. The more perishable stock was just beginning to go bad. They could use it as an indicator of how long things had been... later. He needed to make a sweep and confirm it was truly safe and clear.

After some time Roland exited the storehouse. "Clear. Not a soul." Then his eyes fell onto the other buildings. Had they had more luck or less? The state of the storehouse concerned him. It was creating questions he didn't want answered and answers he wish were different.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

As the foreman picked out his assistants, Zyn kept his gaze on the cave, reflecting on his earlier words. Sometimes there were simply none left alive to tell a tale. He figured he might know. He had spent enough time underground for days, weeks, months to go by before anyone found a man buried beneath rocks collapsed.

Even the dwarves knew this. The gnomes. Those who dwelled in the pits. If there were no survivors of any encounter then, simply put, there were none who could spread the word of whatever had happened, for better or worse.

Had bandits seized these miners from the inside and made sure to keep them quiet? Mere mortals might not account for the visitors who came next. Keeping them quiet might require greater intelligence. Perhaps the mines were cursed, then, and none who entered were permitted to exit, dead or alive.

Or something in between. Zyn licked his teeth behind closed lips as others approached the mines' entrance. The first three visitors had reported nothing out of the ordinary. Except that everything is ordinary. What was that saying? ‘It’s quiet. Too quiet.’

Someone dismounted the horse beside Zyn. It was him. That sellsword from before. The foreman commanded others to inspect the scene upon no enemies springing out for the first three beings.

‘No looting’. That was well and good for the drow. He was no backalley thief or sellsword anyhow. That one sellsword went for the storehouse. It would prove useful in determining how long things had been left unclean as much as what may have been depleted.

Well, that sellsword seemed worth his employment, so Zyn moved further ahead. He’d leave the stables for the pissheads and shitheads. Forge and smithy for one dwarf who seemed all too keen. Duergar, even, maybe.

A few idiots moved to the bunkhouse as if there was time to bunk it out. Warehouse would be full of stock. Thieves would not have run off with it. That much would indeed have been reported. That left the office.

So Zyn moved in. Perhaps there would be evidence of what had happened. The door was locked. He opened it anyway. Scrolls, codexes, parchments, books bound in leather, letters sealed in wax—the works. Oh. Hello.

The drow emerged some moments later. “Empty,” he spoke clearly. “No sign of what might have happened in these mines.” He lied. Try to catch him in his lie? There was little light in his eye and deception was inherent in his existence. Lies were his life.

Roland Grayson

 

[Roland Grayson]

A scholar came out of the stables. Nothing. Not even signs of rats. A pair of the ruffians had gone into the bunkhouse and popped out with a similar message as the ones from the stable. The other scholar had gone to the forge but found only an abandoned space with no hint or clue as to what was taking place. That only left the big dumb one that had gone into the warehouse....

"Nothing but a bunch of rocks! Rocks ain't worth nothing!" The yell had come following the door being kicked open so hard it had damaged the hinges.

The foreman growled out turning red in the face. "You're losing the cost of that from your pay!"

Roland took note while their boss got into the dumbest argument with the big idiot over how it was an accident and he shouldn't owe that shifted into haggling the price owed down while his friends heckled both parties. Nothing had been found in any of the buildings.

"Don't like this.... Should have found something." Roland stated as they all gathered towards back in the center.

"One of you certainly did. Share it or I'll gut you myself!" The foreman yelled less out of any proof of wrongdoing and more out of a general distrust well established by now for everyone present.

The sellsword ignored the threat and began to eye everything over again. All the dropped items. The lack of anything living. The lack of things having gone missing from what he could tell. It wasn't adding up for anything he knew about. Was different and strange which usually meant magic of some kind.

Gods he was coming to hate magic of late.

"Any theories? I'm leaning towards magic right now."

The scholars each began to try to say their own only to stop to allow the other to speak out of politeness. This little cycle continued past humorous and into the realm of annoyance quickly. Roland frowned. "Will someone please just speak up?"

The foreman and ruffians joined them. Neither of those that had argued looked like they had won. Only the hecklers seemed to enjoy the outcome. The boss didn't give anyone time to answer Roland's question. "Waiting an hour for the others to get back then sending in the next group."

The foreman's eyes settled onto the drow, the sellsword, and the big idiot.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

‘Should have found something’, said that one sellsword from before. An observation Zyn ignored. For the most part. Oh, I did. Yet he wasn’t as much of an idiot to admit it before sellswords and whores.

‘Share it or I’ll gut you myself!’ The foreman threatened. It wasn’t much of a threat to Zyn, granted, as he stood with hands on hips, nonchalantly staring off into the distance. Foreman's skepticism was expected, otherwise he would not have hired most of these guys for his outfit.

However, the fact of the matter was, and whether anyone noticed it as openly as Zyn did, that the foreman failed to send a second set of investigators after the first. Never mind himself.

The office, for instance: Who could tell if this shady drow was to be trusted anyhow? Yet the foreman didn’t check. Which meant he was a bit of an idiot to begin with. Or just desperate. Time was yet of the essence. Just as well.

Cue the tunes of scholars pushing spectacles up the bridges of their noses as they debated with ‘Quid pro quo' and ‘I’ll have you know’ and ‘No manifesto in this scenario, no tobacco to smoke, only oregano, potato and tomato in the storehouse anyhow, no chocobo in the stables—’ The conversation of nerds was promptly tabled as the foreman interjected.

An hour. That sounded like plenty of time for the group who had maneuvered into the cave. Deeper. Darker. By now they have probably already met their fate. Yet Zyn could wait. He was in no rush. Even better for dusk and the sun to come down without even needing to enter the cave for the sake of his skin.

“I took this one wench in a cave this once,” said that big idiot who had earlier gyrated his hips.
“Wrapped my hands round her neck before she met her death. She sounded like a fookin’ cow!”
He laughed as though what he had just said was the funniest thing in the world. Yes. An idiot.
Zyn just looked at him. Little did the big idiot know that, though dim in vision, Zyn was a drow.

Not just a drow, no, but Zyndyrr of the House of K’yoshin, and his father was used to slaves.
They fueled the family’s economy, there in the deep, driven by a whip, by death and by pain.
“When we go in,” Zyn spoke low to the more intelligent sellsword beside him. “He goes first.”
He gestured to the idiot. ‘Drop of wine, drop of blood.’ Father said, flaying a slave as deserved.

Roland Grayson

 

[Roland Grayson]

The mention of an hour told Roland he had a time limit to investigate around the camp before he was going to have to move on. The drow had come up besides him at some point and mentioned that the big one was going to be in the front. No doubt in case they were attacked from the front, which was possible. If mines were anything like the insides of castles and forts though then the man in front was definitely going to be the most dead one. Smart if not the most brave or honorable action.

Roland just gave the drow a nod in response. Personally he didn't care. Being the one with a shield and the most armored if would be smarter for him to be their vanguard, but that also assumed they would be attacked down there. Chances were good it wouldn't matter their positions and they would all be equally vulnerable.

But that was speculation. They had no solid evidence to support any theory right now. All they knew was that only the workers and animals here were missing and that was it.

The sellsword waited for the foreman to get distracted by the ruffians again then slipped into the office. It didn't take more than a few minutes to happen. He wanted to take a look over their reports. Certainly their employer and his chosen man would have an issue with someone looking over their books, but what did he care about their numbers? Not like he was a spy for one of their rivals. If that was such a concern then they should have not rushed recruitment for this job.

He glanced over paper after paper. Typical things. Drama between workers. Issues with the quality of food. Requests for more drinks. Locations of fresh veins. Suspected locations of fresh veins. Quantity and quality of the ores dug up. More drama. More requests for drinks. One man demanded they let prostitutes set up shop in the camp.

Nothing special or helpful. Anything out of place would have helped but this was a typical mining operation from what he could see. The only useful thing was a rough map of the interior that he snatched up before he slipped back out of the office.

As he came out the foreman was scowling at him. Roland just held up the map. "Map of the inside. Won't be looking blindly."

The foreman just spit at the sellswords feet. "Hour is up! Next group get in there!"

Roland walked past the foreman and headed for the mine entrance. He regrouped with the drow and the large thug. As agreed earlier he allowed the thug with his logging axe to take the front. It was less about letting the man die so much as having a feeling the idiot would just start swinging if something did happen and not care who was in his way. Roland had a sense of honor, but he wasn't stupid. Better to let the aggressive ones be aggressive without him able to be struck in the back just because he was in the way.

On the way in, he held the map out towards the drow. "Any experience with mines and mine layouts?"

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

Zyn figured it was generally a good idea to have a shield in front of you. He didn’t carry one of his own. Yet, he did have two living beings who would be beside him to serve as shields, and the idiot seemed like their best bet for a distraction. Granted, he just couldn’t wait to silence him.

The drow’s companion did not have much to respond with. Conversation was just one thing to do before the lot could get on with it. If Zyn is honest, however, he might wonder what that sellsword might find in that office that he had not already.

Having looked away from the office’s entrance, deciding that the sellsword did not want to be bothered, Zyn moved toward the bunkhouse. “Up,” he told someone who had decided to spend his time snoring on a cot. The man got up. “Out.” The man did not budge.

So the drow pulled out a knife and placed it beneath his chin. That did the trick. That left a lone drow in the bunkhouse. He sat on the edge of the bed, laid back, relaxed his head, and decided to spend the hour resting after the coward had left.

Time passed and the team of three made their way to the cave. At the map in the sellsword’s hands, Zyn held back on a grin. “A bit.”

He produced a paper from his person, unfolding just enough to indicate his own finding. At least this way they knew they had two maps and his could be a backup. It definitely wasn’t uncommon for an establishment like this to have more than one map.

It wasn’t so much that Zyn had wanted to keep his a secret. He just didn’t see why the other groups needed to know. They weren’t on his team. “Mines are underground.”

“No shit,” the idiot pointed out.

“Drow tend to be from underground.” Zyn continued to state the obvious as he looked at the map the sellsword held forth. “Typical layout. Workshop near the entrance where miners are going to spend their social lives. Several tunnels intersect into stretches of ore veins. Primary output here, here and here.” Small letters beside those veins displayed the ores on offer.

“There's a chamber for ore processing into ingots.”

“Shit. You a drow or a dwarf?” Asked the idiot before he was ignored.

“Report I had read suggests onsite smelting to save time and transportation. Any one in a number of those machines could have caused an accident. Then again, any ceiling could have collapsed. Still might not account for no survivors, though.” He shrugged.

“Ah. Now that’s interesting.” The drow pointed toward the center of the map. “That black spot. Some uncharted void. Could be a pit. Could be a pool.” The mines were near the river, after all.

They reached the entrance. The first group had already lit the outside torches, a couple of wall sconces providing some light on the inside. That was nice of them.

“Oi, drow,” Idiot sniffed with confidence. “Bet your coal-skinned kind have seen worse than these mines. How about you go in first?"

“...”

Roland Grayson

 

[Roland Grayson]

The sellsword was taking mental notes as the drow spoke. Mines were never something he had learned about or dealt with much. He was more familiar with war and agriculture. If they were trying to ambush someone in a vineyard then he was your guy but stomping around some mine with only a torch searching for people was new to him. It was good to have someone with experience along.

And then the big idiot opened up his mouth. Seems he didn't like all the smart talk and decided to try to assert himself as being more dominate. Normally he would ignore it but the tension between these two likely would see a blade in someone's back at this rate.

Roland just looked over at the thug. "Didn't take you for the type to need a smaller man leading the way. Understand why you might be scared. Tunnels are dark and cramped."

With that he focused his attention back onto the dark spot. If the drow was saying they needed to go there then it was their best bet on where to head. "I'll take point. Dark doesn't bother me."

As Roland stood with his lantern hung from his belt, the big idiot pushed past him with a scowl. "Ain't no coward sissy! I'm leading!"

Then like that with one hand around his axe handle and the other holding his own lantern the big oaf stomped down the mine shaft making a lot of echoing noise. Thankfully he was heading towards that spot that had been pointed out and for once was actually following the general plan. Not that there really had been one since they left Elbion.

Roland looked over at the drow and just smirked before following their fearless "leader" further into the mine.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music

He didn’t hide it necessarily, hidden though it be within his hood, but Zyn did for sure most definitely grin at the words of his contemporary. The sellsword was undoubtedly witty; not especially, just enough to take a fellow jab at a man who had attempted to stab a drow in the back, or something like that.

It was all just nonsense, in the end, as much as how that drow had gotten a man out of his bed in order to rest in silence a mere hour earlier. Now, perhaps, it would be clearer to Idiot who really held the power. It wasn’t him.

Whoever led, it didn’t much matter to Zyn. This was mildly amusing at best. Idiot pushed past sellsword, gave him a what’s-for, ignited his lantern as the latter lit his own lantern in turn. The drow had neither though. He cast a spell; a bulb of light floating in the night.

He followed behind Idiot and beside Sellsword. They both exchanged a smirk in turn, reading each other’s mind in the limited light of the mines. Look at this git. One might reckon of their telepathic communication. Yes. Bit of an idiot. Let’s let him get his throat slit.

Then again, maybe it was just Zyn’s imagination, and his more deadly companion would have laughed. Whatever the case, Idiot led the way, and godspeed. He’d need it.

Amid the group’s movement, they heard the dripping of droplets from ceilings, the flurries of wings from winged things like bats in the distance, and the murmurs of the wind as it blows like the moans of ghosts at their backs.

Zyn paid no attention to any of this. He was used to it. Idiot not so much. “I’LL HAVE YOU, LONGSHANKS!” He slashed his axe into nothing.

“Shut up, you fool.” Zyn believed in tools but this one's utility was rather futile.
His commotion will summon lurking antagonists out even without a dark pool.
“What the fuck did you just say, you ash-faced piece of shit?” Idiot turns to Zyn.
Hm. Where are the others? Zyn thought, hardly registering the threat of an idiot.

Roland Grayson

 

[Roland Grayson]

Roland briefly double checked the map of the mine as they moved along. Nothing about it suggested the mine was dug from or had dug into a natural cave system. The dripping of water and presence of bats as well as the wind all hinted at this detail. It made him feel even less happy about this job, but he had to admit he wasn't familiar enough with mines to know if any of his thoughts were accurate or just him imagining things.

Problems began to pick up too soon. The big idiot began swinging at nothing. Then the drow shushed him and he took offense. The elf had a very valid point that Roland did agree with. They needed to remain quiet in these echoing tunnels. But it was looking like a fight was going to break out.

The sudden jump to violence over a simple shush felt off so the sellsword decided to snuff this fire immediately. He moved between the two since the drow wasn't even paying attention to the angry idiot with an axe about to get in his face. He frowned and gave both a hard look.

"Are you both children or can we be adults for five min-"

A movement and noise caught his attention further down their path. He froze as he tried to examine what might it be. The frowned deepened as he pushed past the big idiot and got his shield readied and drew his shortsword.

The thug sneered. His face grew redder. The shaft of his axe was let drop a bit further to have better swing distance in his hand. "Ignoring me pisses me off."

He went to make a swing towards Roland's back then suddenly froze up midway. Like a fleshy statue he just stood there. Roland put a bit of distance after turning back around. His gaze went to the drow to see if he had done something with magic like he had with that light.

Magic was starting to bother Roland after his latest experiences. Unnatural and unpredictable.... But he had a feeling it wasn't the drow who had done this. He hoped he was wrong because being right meant something far, far worse might be going on.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC (Recurring)

There were many things in the deep. One could apply that meaning to the sea, and this would not be a fallacy, yet it just as much meant the ground beneath the surface feet. There were more than creeping things. There were drow, the elves of the underground, and dwarves, or duergar, arguably better miners than their upper contemporaries.

In Zyn’s experience, he had discovered the difference between mines and caves, and the illusions therein.

The wind was one thing: a breeze really did blow in from the entrance, fading the deeper the group moved in.

That dripping? Sometimes from stalactites; stone spikes that stick tight to the ceiling. Maybe because they were so close to the coast. Then again, sometimes the wind was treacherous, and the breeze could sound like the sea.

Flurries of wings. Bats? Maybe. Residents, perhaps, or visitors like these three guests. Might even be the very reason for the miners’ demise. We’ll see.

Zyn thought more on the sounds around him than Idiot’s thoughts of who might win if the two fought. The sellsword intervened before the Idiot would lose his spleen.

Before Zyn could answer with ‘Of course’ his ears pricked to the noise in the distance. A being of his species was yet again accustomed to hearing voices in the deep, but this much was different.

Idiot spoke about being pissed off. Fookin’ idiot. Zyn reflected. “Maybe you just need to be pissed on,” he whispered and the next moment Idiot stood frozen.

That did make one of Zyn’s eyebrows raise. The buffoon did not move. Didn’t flinch. Zyn listened. Movement. Distant. Hands at hips, hidden within the depths of his cloak. Oh…

Just then, the skin on Idiot’s face turned grey, shaped like stone. “...Shit.” The next instant, Zyn hid behind the statue, not hiding for no reason, looking left to right for a tunnel entrance off to the side.

“Golems, I reckon!” It was just a suspicion. “Or an angry magician! Take your pick but pick an exit!” Zyn knew magic but only a bit and needed more than an Idiot’s back to protect his position. With or without a map, the drow’s floating lamp bounced between a tunnel on either side. Time to move or time to fight?

Roland Grayson

 

[Roland Grayson]

The look given back to Roland told him everything he needed to know. They were in the worse outcome. Joy. He was really beginning to hate magic. A sentiment reinforced when the frozen idiot began to turn gray as a layer of stone covered his body.

Gods Roland hoped it was just a layer and not the ruffian's entire body. What hope of survival would there even be if it was?

The sellsword pressed himself up against the cave wall. A prayer that this magic worked like a bolt or arrow and needed to be properly aimed at them to work. The drow said something about golems or an angry magician then an exit. Seems his new "friend" had already lost his nerve. Couldn't blame him with the suddenness of the attack and how little they had to go on.

But before either could make a decision let alone move, the gray began to crack and chip away off the idiot. A thin layer had formed about the man like a mold for metal. This layer was removing itself by popping out all about until most of it was gone. Then the frozen man slowly relaxed to the point his axe head was on the ground while the end of the shaft remained in his hand.

Slowly the idiot began to march down the tunnel. Down the direction of the movement and sound. His eyes glazed over white. Breath so faint it might as well not exist. The remainder of that gray layer flaking off him as his flesh bent and smoothed.

Roland looked to the drow once the idiot was out of sight. A look of held back panic but not held back inquiry for an answer of some kind about what just took place. The one most familiar with magic (he assumed) was the elf and prayed there would be an answer coming that he already knew likely wasn't.

Gods he hated this job so far.

Zyndyrr K'yoshin

 

[Zyndyrr K'yoshin]

Spoiler: Music OOC

Coward? No. A drow who was willing to sacrifice either or both of his companions to his opponents as the situation demanded. Zyn had hoped his sellsword companion would work for a distraction, have their enemy target him in his escape, and then Zyndyrr would spring from behind the frozen idiot. There goes his plan though.

Idiot, ignoring the drow behind him, marched down the tunnel, toward movement and sound. Axe in hand, but the question was whether his target was the sellsword or his very own maker.

Whatever the case, with Idiot’s back no longer serving as a shield, Zyn was left in the open, basically naked. So it was his turn to maneuver to an adjacent cavern wall, hugging it with his back, turning to his companion.

Zyndyrr, as he would happily admit, wasn't so versed in magic. He had witnessed golems turn beings into stone, petrification after a status, to be reanimated, but if that is what happened, or this was a different form of possession, was uncertain.

“Idiot may have been summoned to his caster’s defense. That is one theory, at least.” He considered the alternatives in the darkness, having left his lamp in the middle of the tunnel. “He, it, may also grow stronger if further enchanted.”

Then their rude and crude third companion would prove to be quite a handful to deal with if he wasn’t already. “There is an incantation I remember, of the dwarves of the deep, the duerger, who have dealt with golems, and my people have dealt with 'magicians'.”

Zyn struggled to conjure the memory exactly. “Though this contraption may be entirely different. I can target it or the caster. Do you have a preference?"

Roland Grayson