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[center][h1][color=black]𝕬 𝖓 𝖙 𝖆 𝖊 𝖚 𝖘[/color][/h1]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/b1nhSeq.png[/img]
[h3][i]Black Mines[/i][/h3]
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The winding, cramped tunnels always seemed to ring with the echoing rhythm of the mining shanties. Even when no voice was raised, he could swear he heard them. Maybe he was just crazy--a lot of guys went off, after spending long enough down here, isolated from sun and birdsong and other living people who didn't spend most of their day covered in dirt and grime. Or maybe the stones had just absorbed the voices over the years, maybe the energy simply reverberated up and down the shafts, trapped forever in the rocks. Nonetheless, Antaeus hummed to himself as he pushed the cart--heavy, crafted from hardwood and bound with iron, its big wheels screeching on the tracks under the weight, yet nonetheless it gave way under his considerable muscle despite his age--and he timed his steps to the rhythm.

[center][i]It's a working man I am
And I've been down underground
And I swear ye gods
If I ever see the sun
Or for any length of time
I can hold it in my mind
I never again will go down underground...[/i][/center]

He wondered if any of the other guys would look down on him now, call him a coward for leaving after what happened. Or if they'd blame him for the mine being closed, and for the expeditioners coming down here to muck about with their tunnels. Was it really his fault? He hadn't put the tomb down there, or whatever it was. He hadn't even gone into it. As soon as he felt his pick hit open air on the other side of that wall, he'd pulled back--good thing too, because air that had been trapped in an underground pocket like that for who knew how many years could be poisonous. But the whole wall had come crumbling down, and there it was. He wondered what would have happened if he had taken that step over the threshold? Would the skeletons have all come to life, brandishing weapons and glowing with fire in their eye sockets? He had heard stories like that before. Was he a coward for heeding them? What would his father have done?

[i]"Ain't no treasure worth nothin' down here, boy. Put foolish thoughts of strikin' gold outta yer mind. We ain't diggin' for boogers up our noses down here--at any minute, any damned second, everything around you can come down. So PAY ATTENTION."[/i]

For all the bitter, dream crushing advice his father had always given him...it was fairly solid advice, nonetheless. Even if he had never followed it well enough to suit the man.

He reached the dumping station and lowered his buttocks, using his legs instead of his back to lift the cart up onto its front wheels. The rocks tumbled out, and with his foot he nudged the stopper down on its hinge to keep the cart from rolling back down the tracks. Slapping his hands together--out and away from his face--he left behind a cloud of stone dust as he walked towards the distant light at the end of the tunnel. What wouldn't come off his hands he wiped on his [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/b/be/Alding.png/revision/latest?cb=20120919032053]roughspun clothes[/url]. You never wore good stuff down here for a reason--only his [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/elderscrolls/images/3/3b/Ragged_Boots.png/revision/latest?cb=20130125210801]ragged boots[/url] offered any protection at all, to keep the stone and gravel from slicing open his feet. 

He covered his eyes as he reached the entrance to the mine, blinking rapidly to try and readjust. He sometimes wondered why his genie/earth elemental/whatever the hell it was heritage didn't grant him some form of Darkvision--wouldn't that have come in useful, down underground? But soon enough he could make out the tall, slightly furry figure--even compared to Antaeus himself, who was no shrimp--of Bookie, the assistant overseer.

"Mr. Bookie! Could I have a moment?" he called, raising one hand as he approached. Provided the overseer would stop to listen, Antaeus took a deep breath. "Um, sir, I've been thinking a lot about some things recently. And with the mine closing, this'll be as good an opportunity as any..." He rubbed one of his broad shoulders self-consciously. "Would you be willing to write me...a letter of recommendation? To the Captains of the garrison...or maybe even the Paladins or just...somebody? I...I'd like to become an adventurer..."

The overseer would no doubt recognize the change in his usual mood. Normally Antaeus was swinging a pick and belting out the worker's songs with the best of them, and never held back whenever the men threw their occasional keggers in the barracks. The only person he ever acted nervous around, normally, was his father.