<< Previous Chapter
>> Next Chapter
^^ Index
Mulch's Story, 11th of Limonite, 1088
Dear Diary,
Tonight I write my confessions here, as I fear mother and father would be overly displeased at my lack of restraint last night.
Last night, when the fortress lay in darkness and silence, my friends and I headed down, as deep as we could go, in search of the fabled Tomb of Ironblood, a grand creation that we had all heard our parents speak of but had never seen ourselves.
Eventually we found it. So high was the ceiling we could not see it. We struck a light, and still it was beyond our sight. Engravings on every floor, and upon every wall.
Great pillars reached upwards into the darkness.
In the center, a column rose, upon its top the sarcophagus would one day sit. I am told, however, that no sarcophagus had yet been to the mayor's liking.
My friends passed comment on the size of the place, and as a group, we began to explore. I wish we hadn't. We discovered, in the north-western corner, a well-crafted Deler Oddomsat rendition of a masterfully designed mountain, which is of course the symbol of The Great Picks, our local government.
What concerned us was not the image, but rather the fact that it was bleeding as though badly wounded.
Oddly, the pool of blood formed on the image itself, never dripping down the wall.
This was quite enough unnaturalness for one night, and we fled the image.
Today we have heard no word of any bloody image, so I can only presume that this was purely a night time event. I cannot help but feel that this is an ill omen.