The consortium's half-elf recruiter has a stack of applications on his table when the line has at last died down. Should anyone have the bright idea of trying to make more conversation with the man to improve their odds, a cold look over the top rim of his glasses sends them back to wherever in the Salt Cellar they have managed to find a seat-- if they managed to find a seat. The common room is fuller than it's been in years.
Many villagers are here to apply for work; others to watch and gossip. The ranks are also swelled by new faces: a dozen or so of GMC's indentured laborers are here, and a few brawnier sorts whose nicer gear and visible weapons indicate they are not mere laborers. Villagers nudge and whisper each other. Look, he's got a real sword... Hey, that woman there, she's got a crossbow! D'you suppose they have to fight off bandits?
Though the residents of Salt Spire attempt to hide their interest and carry on normal conversation, the air in the room is tensely expectant. Villagers keep throwing glances at the half-elf, who carries on making his notes as if he were not currently the focus of interest of at least thirty sets of eyes.
The process is interrupted by the arrival of Sholy, the mayor of Salt Spire, even if the title is a mere formality. Civic council meetings, such as they are, take place right here in the Salt Cellar's common room. Sholy is a woman of some fifty years, short and compact, her greying hair pulled back into a practical braid. She joins Jalynor Brazali at his table and the two immediately fall into low conversation, punctuated with looks around the room for this or that villager.
Eventually, the half-elf seems satisfied. He makes a few more decisive notes in his books while Sholy stands and clears her throat.
"Friends," she says, "I, um, well, we're all very glad to be welcoming this wonderful opportunity to our little town! The Goldenscale Consortium promises a breath of, umm, economic fresh air for all our young folk and even some of our older folk. I don't need to tell you all we've seen more boats at our docks this last month then the whole year before that. We have coin coming in again, and stayin' right here, in Salt Spire, and we're mighty glad of it, aren't we all!"
There are a few smatters of tentative applause from those assembled. Sholy smiles and continues, "The council's been happy to offer exploratory rights to the Consortium in exchange for the trade and business this will bring to Salt Spire. Just like in days before, when ore comes out of the mines, money comes in to our town, and that means better food, better jobs, better lives. I have Mr. Brazali's promise that the young folk who show they're good with sums and such can even get free schoolin', become engineers and things down the line. It's wonderful. It's, you know, it's just wonderful."
A bit more applause. Sholy seems to founder a bit, not sure what to say next, but the half-elf smoothly takes over the conversation.
"Thank you so much, Mayor Sholy. We trust it will be a successful partnership for both your town and the Consortium. I personally want to express our gratitude for all the ways you and the rest of the council have made conditions favorable for us, it won't be forgotten."
"GET TO THE JOBS ALREADY!" someone bellows from back in a corner-- Sholy shoots the offender a glare, though Brazali is unruffled. The half-elf smiles fractionally.
"Enthusiasm! We like that. I am pleased to invite the following residents to meet with me to sign your contract: Brosker, Xiramona Salpashti, Druv, Phantrel Springleaf, Em Salt, Raka, Sulianna, Gunder Varys, Colin Bazelgette...." The half-elf drones another dozen names at least, then gestures to his table. "Please form a queue. To everyone else, we do thank you for your interest; your applications will be kept on file for six months in case of another opening arising. You may continue to enjoy the house wine tonight, with our compliments."
Brosker looks delighted, and claps one of his fellow fisherfolk, Sulianna, heartily on her shoulder. Druv, a scrawny teenager with a bad case of acne, lets out a little whoop and rushes to be the first in line at the table. Eska's son Gunder shoots his mother a big smile then hurries to get in the queue.
Jalynor consults his notes and glances around for Argatha and Brimble. "The two of you - let's see, I already discussed Mister Palescale's situation; Argatha, if you want to ask any questions about your remaining contract time, just join the line."
With that said, the half-elf resumes his seat. Villagers queue up, drift out, or return to their drinks and fish stew.
When his name isn’t called, Brimble knows a moment of true relief (bordering on happiness) that he isn’t needed on this gig. Dealing with ‘saboteurs’ exponentially increases the hazards of the job. And Mr. Fancypants didn’t throw out that word lightly. Bad things were going to happen. The kobold thanks whatever gods might actually exist that he could now move on to somewhere el…
Jalynor consults his notes and glances around for Argatha and Brimble. "The two of you - let's see, I already discussed Mister Palescale's situation…”
F*<k me! Oh you worthless, lazy-eyed, feckless, crotchless gods!
In his heart, Brimble is certain that the hundreds of shining gods… scattered across the manifold planes of existence… have all joined hands… to make him miserable. He swallows the rest of his cup of wine and pours himself another.
(indentured trait) vs DC 10
Jalynor consults his notes and glances around for Argatha and Brimble. "The two of you - let's see, I already discussed Mister Palescale's situation; Argatha, if you want to ask any questions about your remaining contract time, just join the line."
Argatha nods, confused. Surely, as he's indentured, he'd be picked. But he wasn't, so what's next?
He nods to the half-elf and gets in line with the others. He has questions, but he's not sure what they are as yet. Hopefully something comes to him before he gets to the front of the line or they can tell him what to do.
He grips his pick and waits patiently.
When Argatha reaches the table (right after Sulianna, a lanky human woman whose skin is weathered and leathery from years outdoors), Brazali gives him a nod of acknowledgment.
"Mr. Argatha, yes, let's see here... several digs so far, very good... In light of your past experience we'll be offering you two silver per workday, and it looks as though you have a...." The book is flipped through. "....remaining estimated time of one year, six months, three days to go, at that rate of pay. Of course, as you acquire more skills, the raise in pay means you'll be able to finish that time faster."
Brazali offers Argatha a brief smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "There will be a worker dormitory, as usual, and three meals a day for the duration of the operation here. Gear will be..." (a pause, eyes tracking to Argatha's pick) "...additional gear will be issued tomorrow. Any questions?"
When Argatha reaches the table (right after Sulianna, a lanky human woman whose skin is weathered and leathery from years outdoors), Brazali gives him a nod of acknowledgment.
"Mr. Argatha, yes, let's see here... several digs so far, very good... In light of your past experience we'll be offering you two silver per workday, and it looks as though you have a...." The book is flipped through. "....remaining estimated time of one year, six months, three days to go, at that rate of pay. Of course, as you acquire more skills, the raise in pay means you'll be able to finish that time faster."
Argatha is relieved the man knew all his questions before he even asked them! One year is longer than one month... he must have forgotten to convert silver to gold the right way. I'm always doing that.
Brazali offers Argatha more stuff...
It takes Argatha a moment to come out of the thoughts in his head. But when he does, he sees the man looking right at him and not talking. He shrugs and says, "Where do I go now?"
Em pictures herself an engineer. Engineers own lots of books, but not the kind she's interested in. She's always been quick with numbers. Start with four goats, wake to find one dead, that leaves three goats. Start with three gold, come home to find mother passed out with a damn sailor and his damn expensive wine, that leaves zero gold and less hope. Funny, Em thinks as she approaches Brazali, she's particularly practiced with subtraction.
"Where do I sign?" Em picks up another cup of wine while the half elf finds her contract. She beams at Xira, who she was just talking to. "I think it's time for a little addition, don't you?"
Finishing his second cup and debating a third, Brimble hears Argatha's question. "Kid!" he says a bit more loudly than he intended, "C'mere! I'll sort you out." He waves the boy over with a claw.
Jalynor says to Argatha, "Stick around a bit, when I've finished processing the applications I'll take everyone to the worker dormitory and--"
The kobold's cry interrupts him. Jalynor's gaze tracks to the small white-scaled reptilian, then back to Argatha. "Just... follow the kobold, okay?"
He waves Argatha off, for Em to take up the next place. Some rummaging among the papers produces a paper that looks like it was pre-written, with a few blank spots for details. He dips his quill in ink and fills in Em's name and a few other spots.
"You didn't list a next of kin on your intake form, Miss Salt. Just add a name here if you please. As you have no mining or dig experience of yet, you will be starting at a rate of one silver per day, or one gold crown per pay period. At six months into your contract, assuming satisfactory performance, this will double to two silver per day. And you'll just sign right down here."
The half-elf proffers over the quill and then folds his manicured hands.
"Where do I sign?" Em picks up another cup of wine while the half elf finds her contract. She beams at Xira, who she was just talking to. "I think it's time for a little addition, don't you?"
Xira's eyes widened in surprise to hear that she was actually hired (to her ear, Mr. Brazali sounded a tad dubious about her qualifications), but now she returns Em's smile. "Most definitely."
She waits patiently while Em sorts out her contract, ready to step up once her friend is done. And yes, she will read the thing before signing.
Phantrel listens to Jalynor and Mayor Sholy speak. The former seems like a company man through and through and Phantrel lets the jibe about saboteurs slide over him without comment. Not that he was planning on taking any direct action, he just wants a fair deal for Salt Spire and its populace. It's also clear that the Consortium are in charge and that the mayor has agreed to whatever demands have been placed upon her. Not that he exactly blames her, negotiating from a weak position is a tough job and right now the town is pulled tight like a taut bowstring as his mother would put it. Sholy is not wrong to say that ore coming out of the mines meant coin coming in but what she doesn't mention is the corollary: once the ore dried up, so did the money. Some kind of agreement that will help keep things growing once the GMC inevitably departs would be a better deal and ultimately that's what brings the half-elf here.
As his name is called along with various other Phantrel feels a mixture of emotions. Clearly he is not deemed a potential troublemaker in a way that eliminated him from consideration. So either the GMC doesn't see him as a problem or will be quite happy to arrange an "accident" for him. A cheery thought.
No, he's mostly conflicted about taking the job. It's not really that he needs to and certainly it's not something that he really wants to do. But Phantrel genuinely does, in spite of the difficulties and trade-offs, see it as potentially the best hope to secure a sustainable future for all concerned. If he can somehow bring his idea to fruition. If.
Phantrel casts his eyes over his fellow recruits, not to mention those already in service to the Consortium, as he pours himself a small glass of wine. It's surprisingly decent so he savours it, assuming that it's unlikely rations are going to be this good on a daily basis. Patiently he sips his wine, watching and he waiting.
"You didn't list a next of kin on your intake form, Miss Salt. Just add a name here if you please. As you have no mining or dig experience of yet, you will be starting at a rate of one silver per day, or one gold crown per pay period. At six months into your contract, assuming satisfactory performance, this will double to two silver per day. And you'll just sign right down here."The half-elf proffers over the quill and then folds his manicured hands.
"Should I die, you can give my newfound riches to my younger brother Cal." It's hard to tell when Em is being sarcastic, her tone doesn't change much. She scribbles with the quill, hand a little shaky from the combination of alcohol and coffee, eyes distracted by Brazali's nails.
Six months is a long time to wait for a pay increase. Em figures that the experience bonus probably comes separate from any raise she might get alongside a promotion, though.
Jalynor says to Argatha, "Stick around a bit, when I've finished processing the applications I'll take everyone to the worker dormitory and--"
The kobold's cry interrupts him. Jalynor's gaze tracks to the small white-scaled reptilian, then back to Argatha. "Just... follow the kobold, okay?"
Argatha nods, comes close to saluting, but holds off.
Finishing his second cup and debating a third, Brimble hears Argatha's question. "Kid!" he says a bit more loudly than he intended, "C'mere! I'll sort you out." He waves the boy over with a claw.
Grinning he turns and follows Brimble. ”Thanks.”
Collin was in his own world and at first didn't realize his name had been called until the chap he was sitting next to gave him a jab with his elbow. "WHAT?" barked Collin surprise. The man pointed at the half eleven recruited and Colin replied, "OH THANK YOU!"
He then joined the back of the queue and patiently waited. When it was his turn, Jalynor said something to him and Colin gave him a puzzled look, the man repeated a question and Colin replied in a bellow. "SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU, THE EXPERIMENT WORKED BETTER THAN EXPECTED, BUT MY EARS ARE STILL RINGING. TEMPORARY SET BACK I'M SURE!"
He pointed at a slip of paper and Collin shouted jovially, "OH! WHAT'S THIS? YOU WANT ME TO SIGN SOMETHING, CERTAINLY!" Without looking at the details he signed it.
Grinning he turns and follows Brimble. ”Thanks.”
The kobold eyes the smiling kid over his third cup of wine. Through the alcohol haze, he considers what to say. ”OK, so after this shindig we’ll head to the dormitory and find our bunks. Tomorrow there’ll be someone yelling and/or bells to wake us up, get us to breakfast, and all the rest. If you get lost, follow the crowd… they’ll probably get you where you need to go. The important bits are get dressed, get grub, and get to the mine. There we find a fella named Ubek to get our gear. I might’a met him before – big fat fella with a bald head, real sweaty. Then we get to work. At the mine, there’ll likely be more yelling from a foreman or overseer. Pay some attention to that.”
Brimble downs a third of his cup in one swallow as he sways a bit from the liquor’s bite. He smugly admires his claws, ”After that, I might share some wise words myself as regards mine safety. Then we start digging and hauling… ‘zat clear?”
dormitory... yelling... crowd... mine... He grins and holds up his pick.
"Digging and hauling, check. Thanks Brimble, I think I got it."
Argatha takes out a small cube of clay, maybe an inch on a side, and starts shaping it. He really concentrates and works that cube like his life depended on it.
As he nears the end of his artistic sojourn, he's grinning at what he had made.
It's mediocre at best, but Argatha is so proud! He sets it on the table, beaming at his (cough) skill.
Raka stands up, the tallest person in the room by a head or more, to join the quickly-forming queue. She isn't particularly surprised at being chosen-- manual labor is just about the only thing she's any good at, but she is good at it-- though it makes her wonder about the others. Not all of them seem very strong. Must be other stuff to do in there too, stuff that wasn't mentioned. She worries briefly that she had missed something.
She grins at Colin, just ahead of her in the line, when the two make eye contact. "Guess we'll be work buddies for a while!"
Once she reaches the table, she places her hands on her hips expectantly. "So what do ya need from me?" she asks, pretending she hadn't just seen everyone else sign their contracts so that the process would get explained to her.
Brimble regards Argatha’s worked lump of clay with curiosity and dubiousness - in equal measure. ”That’s… great. What is it exactly? It sorta reminds me of a mouse with its ears back and tail curled.”
"That's a very good seeing. I like that a lot. I don't sculpt for a purpose - just sculpt whatever is in that particular block of clay. I don't usually know what's coming out until I'm done." He grins.
He looks at it, hard. "Nice mousey."
Rather liking the kid due to his seeming lack of any malice, the kobold pats him on the elbow. ”Very mousy.”
Nothing in the contract seems obviously a trap. She is being offered the same rate as Em - a silver a day - and an employment contract of one year; breach of contract is covered under a clause that states a failure to show up for duties will result in the forfeiture of all further wages owed, a forfeiture of death benefit, and either the return of any assigned gear or monetary repayment for the same-- but nothing about being able to throw you into a deep dark hole, at least.
"I'll need a name of next of kin?" Jalynor prompts eventually, in a somewhat bored tone. "If you haven't any, you can forfeit the claim to the death benefit, or, if you wish, suggest a temple to receive it instead."
Gunder, Eska's oldest son, sidles up to Phantrel with a shy grin. Phantrel knows him-- a gawky youth of nineteen with a head full of messy black hair. Last summer, Phantrel tutored him in the cultivation of the hardy 'seagrapes' that the village wine is made from. Gunder was not the fastest student, but he had been dutiful and hard-working, at least.
"Hullo! We're going to be working together! Wouldn't have thought you wanted to go down into the ground though, Mister Greenleaf. Figured you were for being up on the mountain instead!"
When Phantrel finally reaches the signing table, he notes his contract is for two silver a day. The pen is proffered for him to sign.
"Thank you. I said, THANK YOU, yes, enjoy some wi-- ENJOY THE WINE."
The recruiter mutters as Colin moves away, "If nothing else, he's a walking lesson on using ear protection."
In between handling the signings, the half-elf says to the room at large, "After this, we'll adjourn to the worker dormitory for a bit more orientation, so do stick around until then, even those of you who have your own local homes."
"Mess? You mean...we get to eat on company coin?" Em lets out a sudden exhale in a combination of relief and excitement.
"Um, just the important bits please," Raka responds, not wanting to hold up the line. When the man finishes, Raka picks up the offered quill, and proudly and carefully writes something resembling a letter R (the way she had been shown when filling out her application).
Not quite hearing, Colin blinked as the recruiter spoke to him, "YOU WHAT? OH!" he looked down at the paper and he wrote in surprisingly good copperplate, Mother: Anna Constance Bazelgette, 101 Aroden's View, Oppara.
As he waits for his turn to sign Phantrel enjoys some of Eska's local wine. The innkeeper itself seems to be sharing in the general cheer and optimism suffusing the evening - after all, she's just been paid for ten bottles of wine and her son just got hired, what's not to be happy about-- and she offers Phantrel a distracted smile across the room before returning to taking orders for fish stew.
Gunder, Eska's oldest son, sidles up to Phantrel with a shy grin. Phantrel knows him-- a gawky youth of nineteen with a head full of messy black hair. Last summer, Phantrel tutored him in the cultivation of the hardy 'seagrapes' that the village wine is made from. Gunder was not the fastest student, but he had been dutiful and hard-working, at least.
"Hullo! We're going to be working together! Wouldn't have thought you wanted to go down into the ground though, Mister Greenleaf. Figured you were for being up on the mountain instead!"
When Phantrel finally reaches the signing table, he notes his contract is for two silver a day. The pen is proffered for him to sign.
"Hello Gunder, good to see you." The half-elf scrutinises the young man. He certainly seems eager, though whether for the money or the work or both he's not sure. Based on his experience of teaching him, the boy's no slacker at least. Which is probably just as well given what he anticipates from the mines. Phantrel considers exactly how much to say before answering, deciding on something straightforward - not to mention suitable for such a public setting. "Well the money is decent and the Green knows the village could use a boost. The mayor's not wrong either when she says when the mines do well so does Salt Spire."
He does not say that he would indeed prefer to up in the mountains among the trees. Celys had made the same point. One of several in fact that Phantrel couldn't really argue with. Although they had argued, it was actually seeing her that had confirmed in Phantrel his course of action. The dryad had been thinner, ribs that were not usually visible had become more prominent. And beyond her natural perfume of tree sap, the more subtle floral bouquet that usually lay beneath it had been replaced with the sickly sweet smell of decay. Nothing like as strong as when her tree had contracted a disease some years back, the dryad equally sickened. Phantrel had nursed both back to health, though for one in tune with the rhythms of nature, the half-elf considered it an ill omen. Once again the village and the woods seemed to be in tandem and the recent scarcity of animals and poor yields aligned with a town noticeably in decline.
Instead he offers up a compliment to the lad as he fills out the remaining details on his contract and signs his name. "Is this you work?" Smiling, Phantrel lifts his glass to indicate the wine. "It's good."
She ponders for a minute, then finally writes "Eukanto Salpashti, in care of the Temple of Desna in Galduria." Mam's middle brother, Xira remembers him and his family fondly from their few visits. Hopefully this will find him -- well no, hopefully means the death benefit never needs sending, now doesn't it?
After settling this last detail and without giving herself more time for internal debate, she signs her name to the contract in yet a third graceful script.
Brazali is as unfazed by the sudden eagerness from Em about 'free food' as he was her ambiguous sarcasm. He simply nods, eyes on his documents. "Yes, the company will provide three meals a day if you wish to take advantage of that. I'll provide more details to the group at large in a bit."
"There we are, thank you, Raka -- oh, one more thing: next of kin?" asks Brazali of the towering young woman.
Brazali looks over the information, nods in approval, and gestures Colin back from the table so he can take the next person.
Gunder smiles, pleased, at Phantrel's compliment. "I mean, I grew the fruit! Didn't do so much of the wine pressin', but it's somethin', huh? Hey, what do you think is past the old dwarf door anyhow? Piles of gold, mam says! Me, I think we're gonna find--" he lowers his voice to a whisper, "--a buncha dead bodies...."
With a cursory glance to be sure the required information has been provided, Jalynor takes the paper. "Thank you. Lovely penmanship, by the way. Of course, in twenty years, we'll all be using autoscribes, won't we? Right, time to get to the orientation..."
**********
The village has given the GMC the use of several of the town's abandoned buildings, including a barn that lists to the side as if it's had a few too many drinks. Those local to the village would know it as the former Dunney family barn; the Dunneys left some time ago. The building is old, ramshackle, and you can hear a number of rats scurrying around just out of sight. (Hey, free protein! If you’re desperate.) Rusted farm tools thick with spiderwebs decorate the corners and sea-salt wind keens through multiple cracks in the walls. Folding cots, lanterns, and foot lockers have been set up by the GMC, and while none of them are brand new, they look it in comparison to their surroundings.
Jalynor Brazali stands in the center of the barn with his hands on his hips and a look of mild dismay. "This was the best building this backwater had for a worker dorm?" he mutters to a muscular hobgoblin who is at least a foot taller than he is.
The hobgoblin grunts. "It was the one that was big enough."
The half-elf sighs, takes his glasses off, and polishes the lenses with a handkerchief. After replacing them, he claps his hands together to get the attention of the workers-- some locals, and some workers that have been brought in. "Right! Well, everyone, congratulations on your recent hiring. Or your continued employment. As you can see, the Goldenscale Mining Consortium wants you to be able to get a good night's rest, which means not on the floor, so do enjoy the beds. Let me introduce Ubek, your quartermaster, my right hand, and our local head of logistics. He'll be handling daily assignments and gear dispersals. Ubek, say hello."
The big hobgoblin's thickly muscled arms are crossed over his broad chest. He gives the assembled employees a small, emotionless nod.
"An eloquent communicator, our Mister Ubek. You'll be checking in with him in the morning, after mess. We're setting that up in... ah..."
The 'old Dunney farmhouse'," Ubek says helpfully. "It's next door."
"Right. What he said. You break your fast at dawn, and at first bell you'll fall in before the mine entrance to receive daily assignments. Those of you with your own homes to go to needn't eat morning mess with the rest of the crew if you don't wish to, but you may. Lunch will be brought to you in the mine and signaled by your crew leader's whistle, as will rest breaks. One ten minute break at mid-morning, one ten minute break mid-afternoon, and then final bell an hour before sunset signals your return to the mine entrance and presenting of any items found. Evening mess commences; locals can depart then if they wish. Each tenth day is a rest day, and payday. Questions?"
Brimble spends his time sizing up which cots are the best, i.e. the ones nearest a wall but away from the worst cracks in the wall. While other folks are paying attention to the GMC dog-and-pony show, the kobold edges towards the prize beds.
Colin chose a bed quickly and eyed it wondering if it needed fumigation. He knew of several alchemical preparations should he deem that necessary. Bed bugs were notoriously hard to spot, maybe he should do it anyway as a precaution? Perhaps he should do it to the other beds too as a courtesy? Yes of course but he would need supplies...
Phantrel listens to the instructions - all seems clear enough and he doesn’t have any questions. None that he wants to air publicly, at least. Keeping his head down and getting on with things, trying to get a sense of what the situation is and his fellow miners, that’s his initial aim.
He chooses a bed. Ideally Phantrel intend to return to his cabin each night, his own space and the chance to walk in the woods and breathe fresh hour outweigh the additional walk required before and after a long day’s physical labour, at least in theory. Still, he deems it prudent to have a space here in the barn should he choose to stay some nights.
Argatha listens carefully to the instructions and finds them very much similar to what he'd been told at the last dig. So he figures he'll be OK.
When the speechifying is done, he takes a bed, and doesn't worry overmuch about which one though he tries for one near Brimble if one is available by the time he gets to it.
He sets his pick under it and sits on the cot a moment and absentmindedly scratches.
Em ponders her situation. Two ten minute breaks and an hour before dark is little time for much life. She's often had to work hard days, some seasons have be quite busy. But never for more than a few weeks on end.
A year is a small price to pay, if it opens doors to a brighter future. And surely, surely any drudgery endured for the first few weeks will be worth the certainty of advancement that will come with time. "If Ubek is your right hand, does that mean you're the head?"
Raka nods. "Dunney farmhouse, sure. Makes sense, seeing as this is their barn an' all. Or... was, I guess." It's so hard to keep track when people come and go. "Mighty nice of you to give us meals, an' no I sure won't turn down a free one to go scrounge up my own.
"You said turn in any items found. What d'you think is in there?"
Brazali looks at Em after her question for a long moment then offers another one of his perfunctory smiles. "I am the current ranking Goldenscale employee on site, yes. In the greater scheme of things, I am simply an employee. It's unlikely that any of you will ever meet the heads of the GMC.... but for here, now, I am in that capacity, yes."
Turning to Raka at her question, the half-elf says, "Yes, I understand the farmhouse's kitchen was easily enough put back to working order, so it's serving for, well, serving. Ha ha.
"As for what you'll find: perhaps gemstones, perhaps ore veins, perhaps trinkets of a former society that existed once in the tunnels. More probably than any of those: a great deal of rubble and dust. Your work is clearing tunnels, not archaeology. But on the off chance that you do find something interesting, this is the only additional reminder you will all get that you may not keep it for yourself. Any potential profit that could come your way due to squirreling away something of interest is not worth the consequences, I assure you all."
Jalynor looks around the room to see if any other questions are pressing. As it seems the immediate ones have all been answered, he claps his hands together once more and nods.
"Ubek will be your usual daily contact. Should you have a concern that merits my attention, I will be lodging at the Salt Cellar until I find something bet-- more permanent, and handling such matters as payroll from there. Once again, welcome to the Goldenscale Mining Consortium, a global family. Shine golden!"
This last is delivered in a bit of a rehearsed sing-song; Jalynor then leaves as if he's eager to get the barn's rat droppings off his boots. The hobgoblin Ubek gazes impassively around the room, looking from worker to worker as if sizing you all up, or making personal bets on how long you might last.
"Right. Fightin', stealin' from, and &*@$!ing yer fellow workers is strictly prohibited," he rumbles in a guttural basso. "Of course, some of you gonna do it anyway. So don't be stupid and do it where's I can see it, kesh?"
The hobgoblin ticks points off on his thick and callused fingers. "Most of you will be hauling. Those of youse got more special skills might get special tasks. You'll get told those tomorrow. Me, I gotta spend the night with the boss goin' over all yer papers to figger what those assignments are. Lucky me."
The hob scratches at his thick neck a moment, as if trying to think if there's anything else he's forgotten. "Oh - latrines're outside, take a lantern so's you don't break your necks. Those'a you who got local digs, you can head out now. Don't be late tomorrow.
"Dissssmissed!"
Brimble leaps on his cot to claim it. With the bunking settled (unless someone tries to bully him out of his claim) he tosses his gear into the foot locker and then inspects the provided blanket. He shakes any poisonous spiders out of it with a couple hard snaps.
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"Hey, he just said no &*@$!ing!" Raka calls out to no one in particular as soon as Ubek leaves, making sure the big hobgoblin can hear her.
Phantrel watches first the half-elf and then the hobgoblin leave. Their double act seems well enough rehearsed, their roles clear. With a "See you all in the morning," he heads out to make his way home for the night, savouring the walk and the feel of the the sea air kissing his skin.
Argatha, duly dismissed, finds a cot and tries, for some time, to wedge his pick into the footlocker. Of course it just won't go, but he tries for a while before resting it below his 'bed'. He too turns in, eager to get some sleep.
Big day tomorrow. The first few days of a dig are always the hardest. Learning all the rules, the physical labor, the fresh bout of darkness... Still, a part of him is looking forward to it.
He closes his eyes.
"Hey, he just said no &*@$!ing!" Raka calls out to no one in particular as soon as Ubek leaves, making sure the big hobgoblin can hear her.
Brimble’s eyes fall on Raka. He enjoys the saucy comment, playing along. ”Doesn’t count! They still got their boots on!” His laughter emerges as a staccato hiss.
Xiramona looks around at the old barn while Brazali and Ubek talk. She remembers when it was still in use, small though she was at the time. Well. If I hadn't already planned to sleep at home, this would have decided me.
She nevertheless chooses a cot just in case she might need one, leaving the choicer locations for those who will sleep here every night. She can bring a spare blanket if the place gets too drafty. Out of curiosity, she almost asks why sex between workers is forbidden, but stops herself before the words emerge. Someone might assume that her question means she'd be interested, and she does not need that brand of complication. Probably it's just to keep people from spending energy on anything that isn't work, anyway.
After she leaves, smiling and nodding at those she's already met, Xira heads home (maybe some day she'll stop thinking of it as her family's home). Too keyed up to sleep at first, she leafs through the harrow deck Mam left behind, picturing how the worn, faded cards will look once she has the money and time to restore them. Eventually she sighs, puts the deck away, and goes to bed, knowing dawn will come too soon as it is.
Convinced the beds were full of biting nasties, Colin busied himself making a fumigation candle. He knew it needed sulphur, camphor and ideally phosphorus but he'd used the last of that up on a previous job. Still he had a bit of this and that and he'd taken the liberty of scaping some of what he was certain had to be saltpeter from the stable walls. He didn't want too much of that, since for once he really wasn't trying to make something dangerous and he ended up throwing half of the dubious smelling powder away.
By the time he'd finished it was seriously late and everyone else was sleeping or pretending to be asleep. He gave serious consideration to setting it off anyway but he was was so tired he ended up falling asleep in the dorm before he could put his plan into action. There was always the morning he told himself, the bed bugs would surely still be there.
Em is glad to learn that there aren't more unpleasant people in charge of local operations. Not that Jalynor is particularly pleasant.
She finds herself a cot and sits down on it, inspecting things. Finding accommodations decidedly lacking on account of both loud coworkers and large spiders, she soon departs the Dunney farmhouse for her own room. She wonders if Cal has already heard about her change in circumstances, auspicious as it might be.
When Em, Phantrel, and Xiromana leave, they can see lights on in the Dunney house. Some of the other GMC staffers that they saw in the tavern-- the ones who are armed and the other veterans - are carrying packs and supplies into the house. It appears the higher-paid employees are bunking in the house rather than in the barn.
Nothing of note interrupts their journeys home. Phantrel and Xiramona return to quiet and empty homes; Em returns to her brother to update him on the day's developments.
***
If Raka's hope was to make Ubek stick his head back in in a hurry, she is somewhat disappointed: maybe he doesn't hear her or Brimble, or maybe he just doesn't rise to the bait. A few of the other workers chuckle, at least.
About two dozen people are in the room, approximately an even mix of locals and those who have come from out of town. The ones who have worked other digs for GMC trade words of recognition-- a grey-haired halfling nods at Brimble in recognition of their last mining gig together. Most of the indentured labor are of the smaller races: halflings, kobolds, two gnomes, and even one goblin.
Introductions are tentatively made between neighboring bunkmates, and those who have worked digs together before spend some minutes catching up while unpacking their belongings into the foot lockers. They do this with the efficiency of practice, and the veteran laborers are all turning down the lanterns and climbing into their beds within fifteen minutes. As a gnome with fading greenish hair says, "Dawn'll come early and you'll regret every moment you didn't spend resting when you had the chance."
A few conversations continue in whispers despite this warning, but soon enough, the dominant sound in the barn is snoring.
Colin stays up much too late, enraptured in his own experiment, even if he doesn't deploy it that night. His closest bunkmate, a halfling woman with many freckles, mutters several times about the smell, but doesn't outright stop him.
Argatha wonders who it might be. He glances at a few of his mates, and shrugs. He never was much good at distrust. Easier to assume everyone’s your friend. He sighs and thinks a moment longer.
(indentured)
Nothing comes to mind, so he beds down and gets some sleep.
…a grey-haired halfling nods at Brimble in recognition of their last mining gig together.
Brimble returns the nod and accompanies it with the hip-high two-hands-raised gesture which (in GMC laborer shorthand) means Look, I still got all my limbs! You seem to be in one piece, too. He exchanges understated greetings with the other folks he recognizes before he crawls under the de-spidered blanket. Of the laborers he’s worked with before, he tries to recollect what they were like on the job: who was smart, who was careful, who worked hard, and who slacked off. It didn’t put him to sleep fast, but it helped.
Colin was oblivious to the attention he received while working on his fumigation stick. Still he was used to working long hours and while more sleep would have been preferable he was fully functional when he rose with the dawn.
Phantrel unlocks the cabin and navigates the numerous flowering plants and herbs that hang down from the ceiling, giving the place a feeling of a dense jungle where foliage can seemingly attack from all angles. He's tired, though not bone-weary in the way he anticipates the future will hold. Considering eventualities and taking the long view is what he does but even the least convincing carnival seer could surely predict that. He passes a mercifully quiet night, rising before first light ready for the walk down, the wind and the tang of salt whipping off the ocean as he navigates the edge of the White Wood.
The night passes-- slowly for some, if they twist and turn in bed, and fast for others. If any of you have dreams, you do not remember them come morning.
Dawn is chilly. The distant sounds of the surf boom outside as the workers reluctantly leave the warmth of their coarse-but-woolen blankets in order to tug on boots, hit up the latrine, and start for the farmhouse next door. The smell of warm food causes some to pick up their feet.
Just as the blankets were not silk, but welcome enough on a cold morning, the food is no gourmet feast, but it's not the worst. The old Dunney kitchen is serving up bowls of a thick, steaming oat porridge; crusts of yesterday's bread, toasted in the stove; little paper packets of dried fruits and nuts; and one crispy, piping-hot sausage link for each worker. There's also hot tea in utilitarian tin mugs. The food is being made, and served, by a trio of women who must have come in with the rest of the GMC workers, for they aren't locals of the village.
Benches have been set up in what was formerly the farmhouse's largest room, and workers jostle for a spot as they bolt down their food or chew it slowly as they please. Em is able to arrive in time for a spot in the queue, as are Phantrel and Xiramona .
The halfling that Brimble had shared a nod with the night before winds up sitting next to him. She has an overabundance of freckles as well as short-cropped strawberry blonde hair; he recalls she's known as Specks, whether or not that's her real name.
"Didn't think I could miss Dawnspear," she says by way of greeting, "but at least it was feckin' warm!"
"It'll be warm enough when we're working," another worker interjects on the far side of her.
Soon enough the workers are getting back to their feet and winding their way along the road that leads to the mine entrance. The guards and other GMC staff who spent the night in the farmhouse are rising to a more leisurely breakfast than the grunt laborers.
The sun begins to glint off the waters of the Varisian Gulf as the workers trudge uphill. The sounds of machinery and tools would guide them even if the old mine road didn't. After another curve in the hilly terrain, the old mine buildings are visible, with new smoke rising from chimneys and furnaces. A dozen figures are already at work here, receiving orders from Ubek, who is stationed near a long table full of gear.
"Mornin', new meat! And old stringy meat too, o'course," the hobgoblin chuckles. "Now let's see here.... Line up as I call off yer names!"
"Brosker! Druv! Em...!"
And on he goes. Most of the laborers are given the designation 'General Labor.'
"General labor! You'll follow the instructions of your shift leader! Carry, lift, load, all that. Here's your gear." The hobgoblin thrusts a small pack at each person.
"Argatha! Xiramona! You two are General Labor and Emergency Medical. Yer basically the same as the others except if someone gets hurt, we understand you two know a bit'a healing. Stabilize anyone who goes down. Here's your packs. Watch out for pink puffers, blue bloaters, and jelly-legs!"
"Basil-- Bugle-- Baz-- COLIN! You'll be on Incendiary duty! If you see an open flame that ain't supposed to be there, put it the hell out! Counterfuggin'intuitively, you also light a twig every fifteen minutes to check the air you breathe is still sufficient! You keep eyes and nose and ears peeled for bad air, gasses, and the rest. Here's your kit."
"Palescale!" Ubek gives the kobold a toothy grin when he approaches. "I heard Brazali made you Safety Lead! Lucky you. Might want to get one of your tallfolk to carry all this, eh, scrawny as you are?"
"Right, lads! And ladies too, can't be excludin' folk! Get your kit on and follow me!"
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Raka wakes and stretches. She had tried her best the previous day to hide her anxiousness after being asked to do so many difficult tasks-- reading, writing-- but the day ahead of her promises a lot of simple hard labor. The thought puts her in a much better mood.
Once dressed for the day, Raka practically bounces out of the makeshift dormitory. She is, undeniably, a morning person. She reaches down and pokes Brimble good-naturedly as they stand in line for breakfast. The height difference between the two workers couldn't be more stark, making for quite an odd pair. "Stay out of trouble last night?" she asks with a grin.
* * * * *
Raka receives her gloves, helmet, rock hammer chisel and other gear and follows the hobgoblin as instructed.
Argatha sleeps soundly and wakes readily - though he'd have preferred to rest a while longer. Time to get up!
He munches his breakfast, more filling then he expected, with a smile. He collects his gear with thanks, "Thank you." and checks it over. He almost laughs at the size of the picks received, compared to his proper pick, but maybe they'll be more useful if they're pulling small stuff from the rock. We'll see.
vs DC 10
Huh. Good to know. he thinks as he pockets the air crystals.
He heads into the mine.