Digging is for Moles (Trent)

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

Winter, Day 40, Year 512 AV Sebastian wiped the sweat and grime from his brow. The chimes spent digging sent a burning ach trough his body. Had it been chimes? He cast a look towards the long stemmed candle flicking off in a safe corner. The tallow was pressed with bold marks to count time as the wick slowly burnt itself out. It looked like he’d been at this for a couple of hours. We’ll that seemed long enough to warrant a break. “I’m guna take a break.” He called towards Trent who was still picking away against the heavy cave in. “You wanna join?” They’d been at this for about a week, but progress was slow and Sebastian felt they still had a long ways to go. The ancient reimancy tunnel he, Hadrian, and Trent discovered had long ago been filled with tumbled earth from some large quake, and the rubble had settled within its bed of silt making the whole expedition a taxing chore. Not to mention they’d soon have to start building supports so the whole dam thing didn’t collapse on them like it had some of the skeleton’s they’d found. Sebastian had never tried his hand at carpentry but, he figured it couldn’t be too hard and would make a nice change from the mindless labor they'd been doing so far. Knowing Trent would follow if he desired Sebastian laid his pick next to their other tools, hefted a burlap bag and catching one of the lanterns made his way up the tunnel a bit. The air was fresher here if not necessarily sweeter. The dank water rot from above tinged the nose and made a trickling stream following the miners progressing. They’d uncovered the stairs first, a long flight leading down into the earth. A few skeletons, their broken bodies so scattered it was hard to deduce how many people they'd composed. Then the strange talking golem announcing in a forgotten tongue something only Hadrian understood between the three of them. Sebastian gathered it’d been about some kind of exhibit, an exciting concept considering how unimaginably old the tunnel seemed to be. They’d yet to clear the stairs, and hauling the rubble up in baskets draped over their shoulders was only getting more tedious. But, Sebastian had given his word he’d help out for the right amount of coin, and he was just as curious as the others what wonders might be hidden beneath the earth. Alima Shadas ud Esaray Fuday! Called the golem as Sebastian passed. Not being well versed in magic the thing had scared the shit otta him the first time its deep voice blared from the shadows. Now though it was just part of the cave’s morose atmosphere, and Sebastian kinda liked it; made the place seem a little less devoid of life. He’d guess it’d once been in the form of some mythic beast. While poc marked and scarred with abuse its body held a solid man shape but, the golem’s head was twisted with a pointed snout, gnarled horns adorned it’s crown, a gaping maw for a mouth, and large open eyes. Maybe a god these people had once worshiped, though Sebastian knew no god akin to this broken form. The golem’s teeth had long ago been worn to nothing but, still spoke with the jubilance its creator had endowed. Finding a dry spot on the stairs Sebastian sat and began to pull out the contents of his sack.

[Trente]

*
The stench clung to you when you left the place, and Trente would only imagine the atmosphere was corrosive to the body. He knew it was corrosive to the spirit. This was their third day laying pick to stone, and his muscles had grown exponentially more fatigued. Still, he was still employed by literally the strictest of terms to Hadrian. Though the pact before nature itself had not bound him as a slave, it had created a bond between them that no force in existence could break. In truth he relished the oportunity to dirt his hands, and work with his body instead of his tongue for once in a very long time. Once upon a time he worked with nothing but his body, asisting sailors upon the dark seas, and before that strugling for simple survival in a state that could scarcly permit any thought whatsoever.

Despite the thoughtly contentment in the repetative destruction and relation of stone the offer of break was well revieced, and his aching body and stomach twisted in hunger made certain he took advantage. The pattern of pick against stone went from one to none as he carefully set the axe aside, and stretched. He knew how days of hard work could tighten the body, and detroy flexability. Not an option for his profession. Not this season, when hungry threats lurked in every alley, and beggers for power on every corner.

"Alima Shadad us Esaray Fuday!" Trente understood fragments, which posed hard do to the idiom and tone which was far from that which he had learned the little of the ancient language he did know. This did not upset him, in a way he attempted to drown the meaning out. The repetition was almost soothing, gave something to let your focus ride along instead of just loud echo of chipping stone, and flickering candle light.

He let out a heavy sigh as he settled across the narrow walkway from Sebastion, upon one of the thick wooden beams they had already carried down, lined with his draped jacket over the top as some satirized joke at protection from grime. Grime which already coated them both.

He pulled out a handkerchief which at the beginning of the expedition had been white, and rubbed at his face, then cast a lazy look at his coworker. "Do you have any to spare, sailor?" It wasn't a title in a literal sense, but a common name he gave people, the rougher types. A habit from his own time on the sea. He had learned some other language there which he was not quite tired, nor drunk enough to let slip. "I could use a little pick me up."

He picked the water skin up from aside the jacket where it had been shed, not wishing earlier to run any more weight up the stairs than absolutely necessary. "If I am not mistaken we approach the pocket that Hadrian mentioned. Perhaps another few bells? We should look over the plans for support before we break through. Unless you want to risk it." He smiles almost ferociously.

An unbecoming hack and cough came from him as he quickly brought his handkerchief up again. Once the fit subsided and the echoes moved along out of the tunnels to freedom Trente shook his head and continued. "I've been thinking, we only have so much wood, and there is little way to be certain how much farther the opening stretches on the other side. I believe we should use the stone we have left to carve our first support, and save the wood we gathered to repair any broken supports on the other side."

With another smile he looked to their golem buddy and laughed, threatening another fit of coughing. "Then again I should not be so quick to doubt ancient Zeltivan craftsmanship! She sure held up well." Which he got the inspiration to denounce the golem female was beyond the common observer. it appeared fairly masculine to a glance.
*

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

Sebastian took from his knapsack two bundles wrapped in clean cloth and laid them on a dry spot between himself and Trent. One held a loaf of hearty dark bread and the other a rich white cheese. He dampen a gritty scarf with a water skin and wiped off his hands as best he could ignoring the rest of his body that itched from the grime which covered it. His eyes flicked up at Trent’s coughing wondering for a moment if the man had inhaled too much dust. Sebastian remembered hearing from somewhere that mining could kill. Not from hard work but from breathing in the silt and dust which built up in the lungs and eventually caused asphyxiation. Took years though as he remembered. “I’m no sailor mate.” He replied with a chuckle at the idea of himself ever setting foot on a boat. “But help yourself to what’s here. I even have something that’s bound to sooth that cough of yours.” So saying he pulled out a bottle of unopened red wine and two homely wooden cups. “Beggars can’t be chooser and red is red whether it’s held by crystal or wood.” He said in apology for having nothing more traditional to drink from. He held a filled cup out towards Trent then took a belt knife and cut himself a generous piece of bread topped with a heavy slice of cheese. Glancing around at the tunnel walls he supposed Trent was right and they should start thinking about some kind of support system. “I’m not much of a stone mason or carpenter.” He mused. “But I’ll be having to make a trip out to the forest for firewood soon and I can bring back some wood for planks too.” His voice rasped in sudden dryness and Sebastian took a deep draught of wine. Pouring himself another cup he continued, flipping a hand towards the statue. “And sure that fellow over they might’ve held up well enough under the circumstance, but the place has caved in before, and did a mighty fine job of it too.” He made an exaggerated gesture at the ruins around them. “And I don’t know about you.” He looked at Trent with an expression poised somewhere between seriousness and jest. “But I don’t plan on dying crushed under an overgrown pebble. We’ve got time. There’s no need to rush.” He briefly wondered at the grimace Trent had given when he’d suggested ‘risking it’ but, passed it off as nothing. Trent seemed the kind of man who liked to push people’s boundaries. A solid guy, with principles, well grounded, but a schemer. Someone who saw in corners and curves instead of straight lines. However Sebastian knew his own short comings well enough to appreciate having a man such as Trent around. A thinker to balance out his own impulsiveness. “Might be wise to hire someone who actually knows a thing or two about tunneling.” He added around a mouthful of food. “Think Hadrian would be keen on that?” Sebastian knew Hadrian wanted to keep their activities a secret but he and Trent really were out of their depth on this. In the long run it’d be a lot faster to buy a little extra help then to reopen the passage after another cave-in.