Subject: Re: the mountain; descent

Cadfael knew where he was going. Despite his madness, he had led them within the mountain. He had not lied after all. . .

None of which is any comfort to Mission as he follows the glow of the priest's glove down into the stone tunnel. If there were any type of trap, he would have no room to manuever to evade it. If anything attacked, he would have no chance to strike it.

And so, what? What to do in this darkness? Mission grits his teeth and follows. It is the only thing left to him now. Yet following the priest-- a hard, sharp defiance builds in his limbs with each step he takes. Blood be stone, flesh be stone. This was the path he was meant to take, come death, come life. Here was the way to Promise, and redemption. Here was the way to Anileth, to the darkness that threatened his child.

And there would be a reckoning. Mission's tatoos burn at the thought. He was . . . eager for it. Not afraid.

The tunnel ends in an ornate door. When Mission steps through it, following Garyth, he hears the man's breath catch-- and sees why. Gold, like water, flowing over everything. But it isn't the gold that makes Mission's heart leap-- it is the caskets.

"Ancestors," he whispers. "This is a funeral hall."

And him without a stone in his pocket to leave for the dead. Just as well. He can't imagine Rennick taking kindly to the rites of the Path of Blood and Stone. Still, Mission feels his fingers itching to touch the caskets, to leave them with something. These halflings that never knew the Path, that could use his touch to find it, and find peace in their deaths.

There are a number of stone paths through the gold, leading into darkness at the end of the hall. Mission says to Garyth, "I will scout around this hall, and make sure that there are no suprises." He pauses. "I wouldn't touch any of this gold." He can't help casting a quick glance at Farron. "It belongs to the dead."

Subject: Re: the mountain; descent

Farron's eyes dazzle at the golden display all around him. Indeed, he is just about to reach out and touch the jeweled handle of a golden dagger lying invitingly on a pile nearby when he hears Mission's warning. He also catches the glance in his direction and is glad he hadn't yet made a move toward the jeweled weapon. He wondered what magic might be present in the items around him, and remembered his newly acquired Identify spell. A few more pearls from this vast collection of wealth would be useful in future spells and could make him a tidy profit providing that service back home.

Back home. That thought brought him back to the present, and the fact that they were quite literally entombed in the bowels of a cursed mountain, with a dark god to face in just a few hours. Before this is over, this wealth would do him just as much good as it would the dead it was meant to honor, most likely, he thought, and suddenly the golden gleaming didn't look so enticing.

"So, are we meant to camp here?" He asks the priest. "Or do we move further in?"

Subject: Re: the mountain; descent

Rennik stares at the room in wonder, utterly speechless, walking slowly from casket to casket.

His people. His ancestors. This was the civilization that build the city at the center of the island, the empire of halflings rich in gold and history, rich in size and power... but not rich in wisdom. Or spirit. What wisdom could not have forseen their doom? What spiritual wholeness could have brought upon them such ruin?

Gold. Everywhere gold. A civilization that valued wealth, and jewels, and excess. A culture that would heap gold trinkets upon their dead, thinking that would somehow redeem their spirits in their death journey. What good do the dead have for gold? What need they silver and jewels and riches?

These were not his people. They may be his distant kin, but he can make no claim to them. They lost sight of the true meaning of life - or worse, never knew it. They worshipped the sun god Pelor, and the gold that reflected the god's light. They were apart from nature, apart from the world. They did not even allow their dead to return to the mother's womb, instead imprisoning them in boxes of stone, never again to touch the soil or feel the pulse of the natural world.

What need is there for gold? It is a convention of the stupid, of the ignorant. It is a convention of humans and dwarves, who value things more than actions. It is a necessary evil when dealing with the "civilized" peoples who have lost the value of trade of goods and services. What would a halfling craftsman need for gold coin? A goat has much more value in the wilds, or promises of family alliance or marriage of children.

You can't eat gold. Nor can you drink it. Nor can you call upon it for aid when your life is in peril. Nor can it continue your family line by siring offspring. The living must use it only when dealing with those who have lost sight of the important things in life, and the dead need it not.

A wave of revulsion comes over Rennik as he surveys the alien customs of these long dead halflings. It is as though he had discovered his ancestors were the Murrkat, or that they ate their dead.

"No," he says in response to Mission. "Nothing can belong to the dead, and it is this gold that damned their souls and their civilization. It is not sacred, it is cursed."

"But do not touch it. A people that valued wealth over all things, over spirit and wisdom and connection to the natural world around them... these are people who would set traps to protect their gold even after they are long past the ability to use it."

With that, he spits at the base of one of the caskets.

"I will go with Mission to help scout this hall."

Subject: Re: the mountain; descent

Mission checks himself before scouting. He says to Cadfael, "How far can I scout around and remain in your. . . protection?"

Subject: Re: the mountain; descent

I am waiting on Dan before I write the next turn.