"Hey so what do you think this path was for?" The Apple party ventured deep into the unknown lairs of the first floor. The tunnel had several twisting paths, it was narrow in some places and large in others. And it distinctly smelled like a rotten corpse. Tristin wondered what such a path could have been used for in ages past.
"Probably a passage to get soldiers from the deeper vaults to the outer walls as quickly as possible" Jakurk had a learned mind. He felt he could easily discern the reason for such a hidden passage.
"Such a boring answer, I bet it was used to smuggle in expensive alcohol by the soldiers far away from the eyes of their commanders" Opip fancied a more fantastical outlook on life. It was realistic to assume the passage was a part of the fortress original blue print but more fun to assume it was hollowed out by a group of unruly soldiers who wished to have some extra fun.
"Well that would explain all the twists and turns, doubt the fourth dynasty with all their knowledge would be able to make abetter tunnel then this" Jakurk was broken of mid sentence by the sound of mechanical hinges as his foot sank down into the floor. He had stumbled upon a pressure plate.
"Shit" When it came to dungeons the number one killer of new adventurers were traps. Pitfalls, poisonous darts, suffocating gas, falling swords and so on. In old ruins such as these one that had also been a mighty fortress in its prime the traps were not to say deadly.
"Don't move" Tristin who had walked in the front of the party had been in charge of watching for traps or any oddities. Normally he was quite good at it but as of late too many things had been weighing on his mind. "I'm sorry, normally I would have seen a trap like this from a mile away" These people had helped him when he was at his lowest and now he couldn't even return the favour by doing his job right? What kind of failure was he? The thoughts which plagued Tristins mind were as dark as the passage.
"Dont worry about it, I should have been more careful, I can't rely on you youngfolk to do all the work" Jakurk had been caught in a few traps before, worst one was the manure pit, he shudders at the very thought of it. Even though he was not the one who fell in the memory. Just the smell would haunt him. He'd rather get shot by an arrow than go through what Ismael did.
"Can I help?" Opip looked down to the floor where Tristin had already begun to gather some tools from his backpack. She had no knowledge of traps, but she still wanted to help in any way that she could, just standing around while others worked wasn't her way of doing things.
"You can hold the torch" Tristin did not take his eyes off the plate as he worked. Slowly taking apart the surrounding floor to see the mechanism just below the pressure plate. Opip looked happy to help, and she could hold the torch perfectly still above the small hole which was slowly being formed by Jakurks foot.
"Say, Opip i know you are from Cezen, But what's it like there?" Tristin liked to talk as he worked and it made the time pass.
"Well it's warm, Open, And the hill lands of Sventhul where I was born, is filled with tiny lakes and hills where the grass flows like waves on the open ocean". Those open plains, the warm sun and the blowing winds remind her of a land where the horizon seemed endless. Sventhul was close to the centre of the continent, it was a land of nomad clans and constant wars. Its people were both noble and strong and its violence was renowned across five oceans.
"Hey, You cant talk of Cezen without mentioning the Dusk coast, where the world's mightiest cities stand tall against the setting sun, Palaces of white stone with huge red doors" There was a glint in Jakurk's eyes as he spoke. Many memories he had of such a place, some best forgotten, some he would not forget for as long as he lived and then some. Cezen and the dusk coast especially had been the seat of power for the last two dynasties and both the cultures, the people and the monuments reflected it perfectly.
"Well I we never been, but it sounds nice" Opip had not seen much of the world. Only a few ports here and there, distant mountains and plains which she was urged to never enter. In a way it was a miracle she had come all the way out here so far away from her homeland in the southeast.
"You've never been?!" Disastrous, what was one to do with the younger generation? The cradle of civilization, the centre of the map and she had never been? And last Jakurk checked the dusk coast was only a mountain range and a few peninsulas away from Sventhul. Arguably it should be a given that she would have stopped by at least once if she was a traveler and even more so if she was an adventurer. The world's oldest dungeons were found on the dusk coast, although fairly empty.. They were a testament to the history of the world.
"No, I'm not very fond of Elves and they're not very fond of me so I never made it a point to visit" The dusk coast homeland of the Dusk elves. Was the land named after them or had they taken the name of the land? No one was old enough to know. Yet they had stood as the most powerful race for the last couple of thousand years. And they were quick to assert their power over those they named lesser.
"But still, It has the world's grandest temples, most important monuments and the best food you will ever eat" What compelled Jakurk to speak so fondly of that place he himself did not know, perhaps it was those long distant memories which seemed to plague him more and more as the years went by or perhaps he just felt a lingering nostalgia for something old, wonderful and real.
"HEY! I told you not to move!" Carelessly Jakurk had almost lifted his foot from the pressure plate. Causing a very stressed Tristin to pierce him with ice cold glare.
"Sorry, I got a bit too worked up" A bit shamed Jakurk readjusted his posture. And took a few deep breaths.
"Il wisit it sometime, The dusk coast" Opip remains as unreadable as always. Yet Jakurk felt happy knowing that more people would be able to see the land which he and his comrades once protected.
"Il wisit it some day, The dusk coast" Opip remains as unreadable as always. Yet Jakurk felt happy knowing that more people would be able to see the land which he and his comrades once protected.
"So Trisitn where are you from?" Since he had asked her it was only fair she returned the question. Hill folk could be found on almost every continent but in few numbers. And so both Jakurk and Opip were just a tad bit curious as to where their friend had come from.
"Askmark, the land of Malhun, A place of deep forests and tall steep hills, canyons and rivers litter the land, and the birds there are almost all some shade of brown." Tristin was not all that far from home, a week or so journey by boat and a couple of days with horse could take him home to the small village of Daehult where he had been born.
"Does your land have strong winds?" Hounds judged the worth of land based on its winds. Strong winds made a strong land where the grass would grow, weak winds made a land where the grass would wither and the insects, birds, and animals with it. Of course this belief was not founded not by science but merely superstition.
"In the winters we have had harsh blizzards, but otherwise the winds are calm and peaceful" The tale reminded Jakurk of his own homeland. The Ullvan valley was not far from the land of Malhun and they experienced the same haunting winters as so did most cultures who toiled the lands of Askmark. "You know I have told my family about my brother, I know it would break my mothers heart, it would be hard on my dad too but not as hard as it would be for mom"
"You should tell them, They have a right to know, and it'll put his soul at peace and yours too" Jakurk had not seen his parents since he was eight years old nearly seventy years ago. They were surely dead by now, buried in a tomb atop the hawks hill. Maybe one day hed be brave enough to go visit, hopefully not on his last day.
"I know. But I'd like to find him first. What's left of him that is, whether it's his shirt, his dagger or maybe even his skull. Although that would be a tad morbid, I'd like to have something for them to bury." Tristin had thought about it many times. The cut rope and the gaping abyss. The long fall and the loud crack. His brother's corpse was down there far below their feet, perhaps only the bones remind, but that would be enough.
"Hed have to be on the fourth or fifth floor right, seeing as were heading there either way we might as well look" Jakurk scratched at his beard a gesture hed slowly adapted to do while thinking. It felt quite nice although it made him look just a year older or two.
"Stop, you've already helped me enough, I couldn't possibly bother you for more, il look for my brother when we reach the lower floors and if i dont find him so be it" Jakurk was about to protest but stopped himself, they didn't have to argue
"And we're done" Tristin let out a sigh of relief and ushered Jakurk to step off the plate. And so the group could once more continue on their journey deep into the awaiting maws of the dungeon.
Krita sat alone in his office on the second floor of the sword guild. An ornate metallic globe sat on his desk with a crude map of the entire world. He spun it around with his hand, bored out of his mind. His red spear hung on the wall behind him a masterfully crafted weapon that had served him well during his mercenary years.
This island was a bore, The constant scheming between factions, the constant threat of foreign nations meddling all for what? a relatively large dungeon. Couldn't he have been stationed somewhere more important? somewhere with a population over at least ten thousand a number he doubted even the entire Haklam island chain went over even if you counted the number of sheep, cows and pigs.
He wanted to do something more fun with his life. Go on an adventure maybe but where? If he left his post for too long he might risk having his title revoked and guild assets ceased. The padded leather armour he wore was old, well worn and in need of a change or repair. His face was good, okay at least and so were his teeth and hair, but he'd never had a wife or lover. If only he had a higher rank he thought.
And like an answer to his prayers a fellow guild member entered his office with a letter. "The next ten years Yulang, sir" The young Shoresword handed over the letter without another word and left the room as fast as he had come. The rankings of the Sword guild were as follows, Shoresword, Hillsword, Wallsword, Castlesword, Towersword, Thronesword and finally the highest title Crownsword.
Krita had been stuck as a Wallsword ever since raptor had taken his left eye, three two scars were all that was left one deep from above his eye to the bottom of his cheek the other small barely a scratch besides it. Normally he'd wear an eyepatch to cover the wound but when alone he liked to keep the wound open to the air.
"Lets see this year's fools errands" With a knife taken from his table's drawer he cut up the letter in a swift motion. The Yulang was a quest one undertook to increase once level, there were three Yulangs one could undertake for each rank within the guild, as a rule the difficulty went up for every their, Of course the quests would have to change depending on the decade as some monsters became rare or some items more after sought by the guild command.
"I cant hunt a griffon, I cant find a Bellwick shroom and I can possibly find or craft a skymetal blade in this barren godforsaken barony" Krita tossed the letter of the table and relaxed back into his chair closing his last good eye to try to get some sleep. And then a realization.
Krita threw himself over the table and picked up the letter once more. And read it ever so carefully as one could. A Skymetal blade. Blue and oily as if the very sky was trapped within its sheet. "The hound"