The Fallen 1:21 The Good Earth

The Fallen, the Dark and the Blessed

Chapter 1: part 21 The Good Earth




The Good Earth

“What a dump”
Bette Davis in Beyond the Forrest



Jaheira felt if she were ever called upon to describe this place, there would be no words to convey the disgust she felt just standing among the squalor. Nothing lived within an hours walk of this mine, no animals, no plants. The by products of removing the ore from the ground poisoned the very soil. Nothing would grow here for thousands of years. Surely no member of the dwarven race was associated with such a travesty of nature. They mined skillfully, working with nature to balance the waste they made, coaxing only what they needed out of their mines.

The mining camp spread out form the entrance to the mine like so much effluence leaving a gaping wound. Ramshackle huts dotted the landscape, their windows held no glass simply paper made translucent by rubbing it with grease. A few of the huts had fallen to disrepair, but no one seemed interested in mending them. Garbage accumulated outside of the huts and wastewater ran in small rivers between them all making the ground slippery and oddly colored with the sheen of metals. The stench of death and decay hung in the air.

The miners themselves looked as threadbare and unkempt as their makeshift village, every one of them dirt covered and thin. Most of the men were unshaven and unkempt. They all looked exhausted but their eyes were alert darting to every movement. They reminded Jaheira of animals trapped in a zoo, to wary to be at peace with their surroundings, but unable to escape that which stalked them.

Further down the slope, past the miner’s huts were the tents and carts of the camp followers. These women looked as wary and as tired as the miners did. Washerwomen by day, whores by night, they carved out something of a living here. Jaheira was thankful she saw no children in this place, she could not imagine the horror of a childhood spent here.

A full ten-day has passed since received permission to explore the mines of Nashkel and seek out the source of the Iron shortage plaguing the Sword Coast. Jaheira had been eager to get to the mines, to solve the crisis, but now as they stood at the site of the mines, she regretted her haste. It served no purpose putting off investigating the mines, but still she found herself longing for days they spent in the wide-open spaces of the foothills of the Cloud Peak Mountains.

“This is a diseased place,” she said as they approached the largest ad best constructed of the buildings of the mining village. None in her party disagreed with her, even Garrick seemed subdued by the squalor here. The mining office and kitchens and dining hall were crammed into a single long, squat building. It was as colorless as any of the huts with a few tiny, filth covered windows. They stepped out of the gray light of the mining camp into the gray lantern light of the empty dinning all. Long tables and benches competed with each other for space, at meal times the mass of men here must be overwhelming. At the end farthest from the kitchens was the tiny office of the mine administrator. A man named Emerson

Emerson was once a muscular man, but now that once muscular frame turned to flab. Flesh cascaded around his midsection barely contained by the stained shirt he wore. He was bald save for a thin gray fringe circling the back of his head. A permanent sneer was etched onto face.

“We are here at the behest of Berrun Ghastkill,” Hadrian said as he set the certificate on Emerson’s desk. “He has commissioned us to investigate the mines, determine the source of the problem of the brittle iron and resolve that problem with it as opportunity arises.”

Emerson ignored the scroll on his desk. He glared at Hadrian with thinly disguised contempt. He then looked over each member of the party, his contempt deepening. “Don’t need your help.”

The problem in the mines has been resolved?” Jaheira asked trying not to let any emotion seep into her voice.

“Ha,” Emerson half laughed, half snorted. “Never was no problem. None cept the miners being lazy and worthless. Wanting pay for nothing. Making up stories about demons infesting the lower levels. Why in my day we minded till we dropped and then got back up to mine some more. We didn’t complain, we didn’t whine about rest and we damn sure made quota every day. These ones here.” Emerson gestured vaguely at the single filthy window of his office. “They don’t care about anything except eating and sleeping and whoring.”

“But the governor…”

“I don’t give a rats bony ass what Ghastkill wants and don’t want. This is my mine, not his. And don’t you ever forget that.”

Hadrian frowned. “We have seen the decaying metal. Swords that shatter like pottery. How on infected piece of metal spreads its disease to its neighbors like a plague.”

Emerson half stood and raised his voice. “Don’t be blaming that on my iron. Three hundred and fourteen years. That is how long this mine has been operating, producing top quality ore. If there is a problem look to the smiths and the forges. Cause you won’t find it here.”

“If there is no problem with your ore, then there will be no problems for us to find.” Jaheira recognized the simple verbal trap Hadrian was laying.

“Damn right there.”

“Then you will have any problems honoring Ghastkills request to allow us access to your mines.”

Emerson seared at Hadrian. The man obviously did not like being led to this conclusion. “The other ones. They went in and never came back out.”

“Other ones?” Khalid asked.

“You think your the first dupes with swords to get the hair brained idea to go “venturing” in the mines. All these rumors about Iron shortages. Idiots from all over decide to blame my mine and bigger idiots come here to “fix” what ain’t broken.”

“Then our mission shall also include seeking what remains of those who have traveled before us,” Jaheira said hoping to close the matter

“You get lost or hurt, none of my men will lift a finger to come get you out.”

“I wouldn’t expect they would,” Hadrian said as he turned to leave the office.

Jaheira felt if she were ever called upon to describe this place, there would be no words to convey the disgust she felt just standing among the squalor. Nothing lived within an hours walk of this mine, no animals, no plants. The by products of removing the ore from the ground poisoned the very soil. Nothing would grow here for thousands of years. Surely no member of the dwarven race was associated with such a travesty of nature. They mined skillfully, working with nature to balance the waste they made, coaxing only what they needed out of their mines.

Humans. The worst blight upon the nature there is.

Further down the slope, past the miner’s huts were the tents and carts of the camp followers. These women looked as wary and as tired as the miners did. Washerwomen by day, whores by night, they carved out something of a living here. Jaheira was thankful she saw no children in this place, she could not imagine the horror of a childhood spent here.

You paint a nice picture of desolation. Almost feels like these people should sell themselves into slavery because surely most slaves are taking better care of than this…

“Ha,” Emerson half laughed, half snorted. “Never was no problem. None cept the miners being lazy and worthless. Wanting pay for nothing. Making up stories about demons infesting the lower levels. Why in my day we minded till we dropped and then got back up to mine some more. We didn’t complain, we didn’t whine about rest and we damn sure made quota every day. These ones here.” Emerson gestured vaguely at the single filthy window of his office. “They don’t care about anything except eating and sleeping and whoring.”

I am sure they do so by their own choice. Despicable wretch.

Emerson seared at Hadrian. The man obviously did not like being led to this conclusion. “The other ones. They went in and never came back out.”

I’m certain I recalled you just saying that there were no problems and everything was as normal.

“You get lost or hurt, none of my men will lift a finger to come get you out.”

“I wouldn’t expect they would,” Hadrian said as he turned to leave the office.

Not that they could help even if they tried – if he had the manpower to deal with it, I am sure he might have already dealt with it himself.

I love how you used Jaheira's point of view to really showcase how blighted the mine and its surroundings are!

Jaheira felt if she were ever called upon to describe this place, there would be no words to convey the disgust she felt just standing among the squalor. Nothing lived within an hours walk of this mine, no animals, no plants. The by products of removing the ore from the ground poisoned the very soil. Nothing would grow here for thousands of years. Surely no member of the dwarven race was associated with such a travesty of nature. They mined skillfully, working with nature to balance the waste they made, coaxing only what they needed out of their mines.

Humans. The worst blight upon the nature there is.

Most of the time I would be inclined to agree with you.

Further down the slope, past the miner’s huts were the tents and carts of the camp followers. These women looked as wary and as tired as the miners did. Washerwomen by day, whores by night, they carved out something of a living here. Jaheira was thankful she saw no children in this place, she could not imagine the horror of a childhood spent here.

You paint a nice picture of desolation. Almost feels like these people should sell themselves into slavery because surely most slaves are taking better care of than this…

I recently watched a documentary about mining at the turn of the century…it was not a good place to be and was pretty much slavery in everything but name

“Ha,” Emerson half laughed, half snorted. “Never was no problem. None cept the miners being lazy and worthless. Wanting pay for nothing. Making up stories about demons infesting the lower levels. Why in my day we minded till we dropped and then got back up to mine some more. We didn’t complain, we didn’t whine about rest and we damn sure made quota every day. These ones here.” Emerson gestured vaguely at the single filthy window of his office. “They don’t care about anything except eating and sleeping and whoring.”

I am sure they do so by their own choice. Despicable wretch.

hmans are about the same everywhere

Emerson seared at Hadrian. The man obviously did not like being led to this conclusion. “The other ones. They went in and never came back out.”

I’m certain I recalled you just saying that there were no problems and everything was as normal.

annoying advernteruers disaapearing is not a problem...

and think about who went into the mines first...would you go looking?

“You get lost or hurt, none of my men will lift a finger to come get you out.”

“I wouldn’t expect they would,” Hadrian said as he turned to leave the office.

Not that they could help even if they tried – if he had the manpower to deal with it, I am sure he might have already dealt with it himself.

more likely it was a lack of will on his part

I love how you used Jaheira's point of view to really showcase how blighted the mine and its surroundings are!

Hi Cel.

It just seemed appropriate...for obvious reasons

Hmm. If the mine operated for Pi*100 years, more or less... shouldn't some clever druids have come up with magically-engineered plants to extract the heavy-metal salts from the earth?

Just asking.

I loved the chapter, again, and have little to comment, again - except that there are some... well, punctuation/editing errors, fex:

At the end farthest from the kitchens was the tiny office of the mine administrator. A man named Emerson

You didn't finish the sentence.

...so, here's just hoping you'll write the next part soon, and that I'll finally have some actually comment. :grits teeth: