Abandoned By Time

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corielldog

corielldog

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All across Rynak, fliers had been appearing bearing the crest of the Salanors, a small noble family who gained a little notoriety on the southern side of Rynak for finding a large silver vein a few decades ago. In the years since, they've been quiet, despite owning one of the largest silver mines in all of Rynak, so it was odd that all of a sudden they were trying to get their name across the continent once again, the question is, why? Fliers were all over every town and city, although most people paid them little mind, after all, there were better things for people to do than chase silly fantasies of adventure and striking it rich through a buried treasure. Each flier read

ATTENTION! WORKERS WANTED
Miners, Healers, Explosive technicians, and adventurers needed.
Do Fame, Fortune, Glory, and Power sound appealing to you?
If so, make your way out to the Salanor Mines
South East of Bullmar
15 Silver Per day
-Eovard Salanor

​
Somehow, each of you have aquired one of these fliers, wether it was a lack of other options, a drive for adventure, or something else that brought you here, you are all part of the small migration of people headed to The Salanor Mines. Today is the day that you've reached your destination, before you all stands a small base camp with a shoddily constructed wooden fence and gate set around the mine, the sounds of work that would normally be expected from a mine of this size is oddly missing, and as you all step inside, you see that only a small group of around twenty populate this place in its current condition.

A stout halfling man approaches the caravan, standing before them and shouting in a booming voice "Welcome to the Salanor Mines! I am Eovard and I am honored that you all have come here to work! A few others have arrived earlier as you can see, along with my personal security team. Do not fret, beds and food will be provided, you are only our second group to arrive! If you would please, find an area to set up camp within the walls, I'm sure that you'd all love a nice meal with all that walking you've been doing. Dinner will be ready in about an hour, please try to refrain from fighting, and welcome to the family!" he threw a celebratory fist into the air as he began walking away, leaving you all with nothing more than the setting sun, and what you brought with you from home
 
A miner, young from the looks of him, walks straight out of the group when the halfling finished speaking. Nodding his thanks to the man he quickly begins setting up a camp at the best spot he can find. He tries his hardest to smile at anyone who comes by. But mostly he sits there, singing a small tune under his breath.
 
A wood elf, who is covered in different animal furs, finds a secluded spot that is not near to anyone else and begins to set up her supplies. Once she sets up her bare minimum supplies she sits and watches the entrance to the cave, while she quietly eats some nuts and berries. If anyone crosses her field of vision she eyes them like a cat, till they eventually walk out of sight of the cave. She doesn't say anything to anyone, and you would find it hard to even notice her presence if you weren't specifically looking for her.
 
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Councilmember Orthion Faelenval watches the little halfling's speech with thinly veiled contempt. 'One of Megali's lot, most likely. The little folk tend to breed like rabbits. Family, pah, as if I would let any of this rabble even place a muddied boot inside Kestialmir.' The thought of it makes him imperceptibly shiver. He pulls on his black deerskin gloves, Corellon above if he has to touch one of them, and steps off his private carriage. With the smallest wave of his hand his retinue begin assembling his tent and belongings whilst he strides forward to greet the odious little foreman. Anyone looking would see a high elf, slender and tall, dressed all in black with high boots and a finely cut black suit. A large black coat covers the ensemble with a raven feather collar which frames the elf's haughty face. Long silver-blonde, almost white, hair falls over his shoulders and not a single hair is out of place despite the long coach trip. A platinum and black leather scabbard sits on his hip, the longsword strangely comfortable looking on someone so proper.

He calls out to the halfling, not loud enough to seem desperate but loud enough to be heard. "Eovard, wonderful to see you. I trust that the council have made you aware of my attendance? Perfect." He gives a slight bow, just low enough not to be insulting. "I am Councilmember Orthion Valdier Faelenval. Splendid we have the formalities out of the way. Please see to it that a report of everything that has been done so far is delivered to my tent yes? Perfect. I will allow you to provide me with dinner as well, what the rest of the expedition team are having is fine, you don't need to do anything special on my account I assure you. Send a boy with it when you provide me that report. Oh and Eovard, please make sure the rest of the crew are assembled promptly in the morning. I cannot abide tardiness of any sort." With that Orthion spins gracefully in place and strides off back towards his tent. He doesn't give the halfling time to reply, he knew he would be obeyed, why bother forcing himself to listen to one of them.

When he arrives back at his tent he gave a small nod, satisfied with what his retainers had done. It was a pity he was not taking them down into the mine, but someone needed to look after his fool of a son. Always going on about swords and magic, fanciful stuff, and at his age. Orthion shakes his head slightly, why was everyone always such a disappointment to him. Taking off his coat and placing it on one of the wooden stands in the tent, he sits at the desk and pulls out a sheet of parchment and a quill and ink. He writes a short letter to the Rumafil council. Putting Sentili's name first, she would appreciate that and it could buy him favour later on, and that filthy stray cat Ellis' name last he writes that the journey has been completed, the lodgings are satisfactory and that he is looking forward to proceeding as planned at daybreak. Signing his name with his typical flourish, he gives the letter to a waiting servant and dismisses them. Watching the carriage leave he nods to himself, places a chair at the entrance to his tent and waits for his report.
 
Rhys watches.

Rather than set up camp, he set up a spot on top of a crate from where he can watch the hustle and bustle. He’s spent most of the journey flitting through the caravan— never staying in one spot, but rather weaving his way back and forth, cloaked in a dark hood to hide the green of his face. But he’s slid down the hood and turned his face to the last of the sun.

Rhys is a young man, or seems that way. His long hair is tied back, with wisteria woven through the locks— or perhaps part of them. One of his knees is drawn up so he can lean his elbow on it as he cleans the dirt from beneath his nails with his dagger.

He has very little to set up— he had made a rather hurried exit from his last venture, so he hadn’t had the time to pack more than the adventurers. A strange cylinder hangs from his belt, looking very little like a weapon. Yet he has the confidence of a man armed.

His attention is drawn to the high elf when he takes a seat at the entrance of a tent, and scoffs. Usually, Rhys likes to think of his ‘high’ elf as poor, misguided cousins. This one though— Rhys shakes his head. Good thing I’m around.

He gets up and drags the hood back over his face. He ducks his head as he passes by the tent— he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t even bother to look at the other elf. Rhys snaps his fingers, just once, and whispers <“soiled”> in Sylvan. It’s tempting to look back and glance at the now-grimy glove that his Prestidigitaiton caused, but it would be too suspicious. So instead he keeps on walking— and smiles. Time to see if there was anyone interesting around to share a meal with.
 
"Woo!" a red-haired young woman calls out as Eovard pumps his fist in the air, then grins and shrugs when people turn to look at her.

As the caravan dissolves and people start to move off in different directions she heads straight for the fence, leaning her arms on it and sighing wistfully. After trekking all the way from Cardent more or less on foot, seeing the start of her destiny looming only a few feet away feels satisfying, like she's already achieved something significant. And of course, there'll only be more achievements to come once she's inside.

She gazes at the entrance to the mine for a minute longer before pushing off from the fence and looking around for somewhere to put herself. She isn't concerned that she might have missed the rush to get the best spots; that sort of thing rarely seems to bother her. In fact, she realises as she takes stock of the base camp, most people seem to have split off to set themselves up individually, leaving the place with an odd lack of conversation. Well, she's going to have to fix that.

Her eyes settle on one rugged-looking man, maybe a little older than her, who's murmuring something to himself while offering strained smiles to people who pass by. She heads over to his mini-encampment without thinking twice. "Evening!" she says brightly, crouching down and taking a seat close by. "Hope I'm not intruding, but you grabbed a good spot and I was feeling jealous." Smiling easily, she thrusts a hand in the man's direction. "My name's Carmen Sangiovanni," she declares.
 
Loyds eyes widen in surprise as the red-haired lady plops beside him. Looking closer now you see he wears simple clothes and some leather armor, that is almost all covered in dirt and dust. The only shiny thing is his Anubis symbol hanging out. "Uh, no.. no problem. I'm Loyd Digger." His heavily accented voice replies, as he returns the handshake.
 
Carmen pumps Loyd's hand up and down enthusiastically. She wears similarly functional clothes along with leather armour that's starting to look fairly worn out, though it lacks the coating of dust that her companion's bears. "Good to know you, Loyd Digger. That's a lucky name to have right now, isn't it?" she laughs, inclining her head towards the mine in case the joke somehow escapes him. "So, are you gonna be helping out with the excavation, or is there some other job you're looking to do?" Being ignorant when it comes to most faiths, she decides not to raise the subject of his religious talisman until she's figured out how to do it smoothly — though her curious eyes do occasionally drift towards it.
 
Loyd nods, sighing in exasperation. You sense he's heard this many times before. "I'm one of the miners, but I will be making sure others stay alive as well." He stays silent for a few seconds, before he looks up. Realizes he has to say something he speaks up. "And you?"
 
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Standing across from the gates amidst the caravan, a tallish lean Tiefling stands talking to an older scrawny human. While his gear appears dusty and road weary, it appears to be of decent quality. As Eovard concludes his speech, the Tiefling shakes the hand of the older human who then heads back towards the Bullmar market district. However, he does not immediately walk through the gate, eyes scanning the area surrounding the mine, drinking in all manner of details and clues. Just as he starts to leave the covering shelter of the caravan and enter, a black carriage arrives. 'Overseer, owner, or senior management' he thinks to himself. After listening to the ‘Councilmember Orthion Faelenvalwalk’ spew orders and guidance, even though disguised in ‘polite’ condescension and egotism, he starts to move through the gate. ”That one needs to come down a notch or five in the world” he mutters.
He confidently approaches a pair of the new arrivals. A tired looking man and a very upbeat female with fiery red hair. His tail swishes as he walks up to catch the end of the man’s sentence ”...making sure others stay alive as well."
”As one of those who would be in the mines, I greatly appreciate that good sir.” the tiefling uses an excuse to ‘politely’ intrude into the conversation. ”I’m X’oreen. I’m here to be the cartographer and scout for the depths.” His accent giving away his 'HelmFirth' ancestry.
 
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Carmen's eyebrows raise. "Keeping people alive? Well, colour me intrigued, sir," she says, leaning forward. She's heard stories about holy men with a touch that can seal wounds and cure diseases, but could this man be one of them? He doesn't have the larger-than-life mystique she'd been imagining...

Just then the tiefling's shadow falls over them, and she quickly leaps to her feet. "A cartographer and a scout! I think the higher-ups are going to like you," she whistles while doing her best not to stare at the horns, tail or red skin. "'X'oreen'... you're gonna have to show me how to spell that. Oh, this is Loyd, by the way, and I'm Carmen." She extends her hand, wondering if a tiefling's grip might be hotter than a regular human's. "We were just talking about what our roles might be. Loyd sounds like he's got several talents -- I was just going to see wherever there's a gap that needs filling. Normally I'd offer to navigate, but it looks like I left my tools at home," she laughs, rubbing the back of her head.
 
Loyd nods at Carmen, before he looks up at the tiefling. "That's good. Once we got the map and all I'll know my way around real quick." Already a little anxious with these two, he begins rubbing his hands. "It wont just be us three of course. If it's what they are saying we will need a few more hands on board for a exploring party." Sighing, Loyd hopes whoever else joins might be a little quieter.
 
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X'oreen pulls off the glove of his right hand, his hand slightly warmer than most, takes Carmen's hand and shakes it. His skin is slightly rough with callouses on the inside. He then stoops down to shake Loyd's hand. "Sir, I will do my best to ensure that the path is always clear to you. Sadly, it may not be safe, but clear." Looking around, "It would appear that you have dibs on the best spot, Loyd. Do you mind if I setup to your left? I wouldn't want to crowd you, if you need space for prayers."
 
As he is squatted down, a quizzical look comes over his face as he looks at the ropes tied to the stakes of the Councilman's tent. He grins slightly, as a thin ghostly hand appears and loosens the ties of two stakes before vanishing. He returns his attention to his two new comrades.
 
Loyd returns the handshake. "Its never safe." He looks around his area. "Anythings for the taken, I dont mind. I would like some space. But I have enough where I'm sitting." Looking around his area, all you see is him and his very few belongings. And a simple cloak laid out for him to sleep on. He sighs at the tieflings antics. "You shouldnt do that, wasting the work put into it." Loyd stands up, going fix the councilmans tent.
 
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"Tsk. Apparently, I've started off on the wrong side of our miner. Not the most fortuitous start." Standing up, he goes to assist with correcting his handiwork.
 
Carmen clicks her tongue, still smiling in fascination at the casual use of magic and X'oreen's brazenness in screwing with the man's tent so openly. "No, I wouldn't say it is. Here, let me," she says, rolling up her sleeves as she hurries after the two. Maybe she can't navigate very effectively at the moment, but she can definitely tighten a rope.
 
Orthion spots the rabble congregating around the side of his tent and sighs. More fuss to clean up, why do children always push their limits. He stands up and mutters under his breathe in Sylvan. <"Step"> Appearing behind the group he clears his throat politely. "I do hope you are helping, rather than hindering. I would hate to take a dim view of your actions, given that we will likely be spending a lot of time together soon." He stares at them all disapprovingly, hands held behind his back.
 
Loyd finishes tightening the ropes before he stands up. "I am in fact fixing it, sir. I saw it loose and would hate for it to fall down." Loyd looks at the elf, his face impassive. "These two decided to join me, one of them trying to fix his mistake of course."
 
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Having sensed the sudden displacement of air and feeling the presence behind him, X'oreen didn't react to the voice of the councilman's berating. He continued finalizing the ties along with Loyd and Carmen. "Sir, Indeed if any fault or blame be placed, it should be upon myself and myself alone. I took offense at your 'manner' of addressing Master Eovard. While intended as a simple prank, Mr. Loyd reminded me that safety, cooperation, and TRUST will be a foremost requirement in the mines. Thus, correcting my error, before harm or ill will is generated." 'Not that a pompous and pretentious arse such as yourself could acknowledge such traits or faults in yourself' he thought as he looked the councilman in the eye.
 
Feeling the cold disdain of the councilman, "I'll report the incident to Master Eovard and accept his punishment."
 
Orthion looks down at the human, scruffy and dirty typical for the little rodents. This was one honest though, a rare trait amongst scoundrels and liars trying desperately to make their tiny flames matter. He sniffs slightly and looks at Loyd. "Thank you boy. I am glad to see we have hard workers here. You will go far, despite your limited time." Hearing the tiefling's words he turns and stares at him, slowly sneering at the little devil pretender. "And what kind of little wretch dares to question my manner when you sneak about attempt to play pathetic little jokes. Get out of my sight, you insolent pup." He nods to Loyd and walks back inside his tent.
 
Loyd nods back, grimacing when the councilman calls him boy. "All life is short, youll just never know until it hits you." He sighs at Carmen, motioning for her to join him back at his spot. "I hope he doesnt always call me boy."
 
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Carmen glances back at the Councilmember's tent, unsure what to make of all that just happened. "Yeah, you and me both," she says lightly, shrugging as she joins Loyd on the way back to the mini-encampment. "Still..." A smirk tugs at her mouth. "I wonder what he's here for, that elf. DId you see him move? Almost made me jump out of my skin when he coughed like that. Like that tutor you're always scared of." She flops down in the same spot as before and groans theatrically. "I really hope that meal arrives soon. Anticipation and an empty stomach are a bad mix, y'know? And I'm not sure I've got enough trail rations left to share."
 
"I unders-" Eovard said as he was cut off by the elven man, even being somewhat intimidated by him

It was around six in the late afternoon, the sun slowly setting upon the plains with the warm day slowly fading into a cool night. While most of the ground had yellowed, trodden grass, some areas nearer to grass and the wall had what looked to be catering tents, and as a smell flew out of them, filling the camp, suspicions were confirmed. A bell rung out from somewhere within the largest catering tent, signaling dinner time. The provided food was nothing special, mostly the food required to live off of and keep healthy with as proper rationings per person. An older half-orc woman seemed to be in charge of the cooks along with a half-orc man around the same age while they seemed to be quiet now, it explained shouts of "HURRY UP YOU IMBICILES, WE HAVE HUNGRY MINERS OUT HERE, MY GRANNY CAN COOK FASTER AND SHE'S BEEN IN THE GROUND FOR AGES" and other odd insults. The food looked nice for what it was, baked potatoes, freshly prepared steaks, and large containers of water and single mugs of ale, everything being controlled and served by an "army" of half-orc chefs.

For those who looked carefully, a smaller orc could be seen rushing off with a folder in one hand, a plate in the other, in the direction of Orethion's tent. He weaves through the tables set up for everyone's use, makes his way into the tent and leaves shortly afterwards, now empty handed
 
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