Nothing in life is free. You ask for a tale and I will tell it... for a price. The price, of course, depends upon which tale you wish to hear.
How did I become a Treasure Hunter?
Well, that is an expensive story indeed. No, no coins. I've no interest in taking your money from you; I've something altogether more amusing in mind. Do you still want to know? Are you sure that you're willing to pay what I ask?
Very well.
When first I left my home, I was woefully unprepared and underdressed. I had fled into the night with no idea where to go or how I could possibly survive. No one wanted me. No one would offer a dirty little half-breed any kindness or aid. I was on my own. But then, hadn't I always been? Sure, I'd been surrounded by people who clothed and fed me, but only from a resentful sense of obligation compounded by scorn and hatred. There had never been anything approaching inclusion there. Nor would there be out here.
I really should have thought to take some food or a water skin with me but I had been in a bit of a rush. Still, Rohan is not without plentiful water sources and I did have a little tin cup so drink was less of an issue than food.
By the second day, I was hungry. I'd had little choice but to scavenge what I could from crofters fish traps as I had no skill or experience with hunting and no idea what might or might not be safe to forage. By the second week, I was starving. Luckily, or so I thought, I came across a large aurochs carcass along the Entwash some way north of Eaworth. There weren't any herds here and the creature was certainly very dead. I had no idea how it came to be here or in that state and I didn't really care. I just wanted to get some of it for myself! The fact that I hadn't thought to bring a flint to help light a fire was also neither here nor there. What was there was thick red flesh, so fresh that it was still quivering, and without any visible predator in sight.
How wrong I was!
Just as I reached the beast, just as I began to cut a chunk from its flank with my pitiful little knife, I heard a roar from above.
A drake!
A drake?!
Yes, I ran. I ran for my life. I didn't stop to look behind me, but then I didn't need to. I could hear the thing bearing down upon me every step of the way and I was terrified! I dodged, I ducked, I sped until my heart was beating fit to burst! It was sheer luck, good or ill, that saw me fall flat on my face and roll down an embankment just as the scaly monster spat fire at me. I pushed up, looked around and, as fast as if my arse had caught fire, I ducked in through an old stone doorway and down a dark tunnel. Persistent to the end, that damned drake crashed into the door, closing it firmly behind me. I could still hear it scrabbling to get in some time later when I'd finally caught my breath.
My situation had changed, but not necessarily for the better. I still had my pack, which was good, and I wasn't in immediate danger of being lunch. However, it was dark enough in this dank tunnel to render me blinded and I had nothing with which to create a torch. My options were limited. Forward was the only possibility. So, running my hand along the wall for guidance, I put one foot carefully in front of the next and on through the darkness I walked.
How did I become a treasure hunter? I fell into it. Literally.
I don't know how far down that tunnel I'd managed to go, the slick stone beneath my fingertips, before I tripped and fell. Again. This time the landing wasn't quite so comfortable. It clattered and stabbed and cracked. Horrified by thoughts of what I could possibly have fallen onto, I felt around in search of anything useful and found a discarded torch. using my small knife to strike sparks from a smooth stone I found upon the floor, I gave myself light!
Then I screamed.
What I had fallen onto - or rather into, and face first at that! - was the pelvic bone of a long dead man!
I threw that away damned quickly. Then, by the light of the torch, I rifled through the dead mans bag. It seemed that he was far more prepared than I had been, carrying pretty much everything that I could have needed, including a large pickaxe for some reason. There was also a small ledger and a hastily scrawled letter. The ledger was interesting, documenting several digs he'd been on shortly before he'd died, locations, what he'd found, how much they'd fetched, and several contacts willing to buy his ill-gotten gains. The letter was a plea to whatever deities might be paying attention that he survive this peril and, in the event of his death, for someone to continue his work.
Well, the former wasn't going to happen now, was it? I had no better ideas, no goals beyond escape from my past and no way to support myself financially. This seemed like a good way to start. But what exactly did he do? Just find things? What things? Any things? Further reading of both the letter and the ledger revealed that he was a treasure hunter.
That sounded good to me. It sounded like fun. I could travel the world, finding shiny old things in dangerous places and selling them on to the highest bidder. I'd likely never be rich, but did I need to be? For as long as I had enough coin to fund my next journey, to fill my belly and replace my tools, to keep me moving, then what more would I ever need?
But first, I'd have to get out of this place in one piece. Back was still not an option. Even if that drake was gone, the door had slammed shut tight and the likelihood of me being able to push it open was pretty slim. I was tall even then but, due to my upbringing, I was far from strong. Further in still, then.
I'm not sure how long I wandered those dark tunnels before I came across my first foe. A wight. I shuddered at the very thought of them back then. I almost wet myself when I laid eyes on the first one. I'd been singing to myself, something I had often done to keep my spirits up, my voice drifting softly along the dark corridor ahead, when I rounded a corner to see it. It stood there, pale and desiccated, bones straining against the leathery skin. It stared blindly at me, swaying slightly from side to side... at least until my song turned became a scream. Then the thing couldn't move fast enough! I ran, darting down a side passage like a rabbit with a weasel on its tail. In a way I was, for that ugly bastard gave chase! In my inexperience, I ended up finding myself caught in a dead end - an apt name if ever there was one! Turning, I found that two more of the wretched creatures had joined the chase. There was no way out, my small knife would be no use against these monstrosities and no rescue incoming. I did the only thing I could think of. I threw my pack aside, hoisted the pickaxe and swung it wildly!
I wish I could say that I looked like some heroic figure of old, some avenging warrior doing battle to the end, weapon flashing at just the right moments to make it all that much more dramatic as the evil undead crumbled before my might. That would have made for a wonderful story to tell in a tavern. It really didn't happen that way though. It was a mixture of sheer luck and dead-brained idiocy on the part of my foes that saw me make it out of that fight relatively unscathed. A few bruises and a lot of gooey draugr pulp later and I had to have a bit of a sit down.
Alright, I collapsed to the floor, shaking like a leaf, pickaxe clutched to my chest like a thin spiky shield. I remember staring at what was left of the creatures, unblinking for so very long as my mind whirled and my stomach threatened to purge itself of the last drop of water I'd had.
It was then that it occurred to me that the thing hadn't really seen or noticed me until I screamed. It couldn't have been silence that kept them docile, for I had been singing as I rounded that corner. But screams caught its attention. How did that make any sense?
Resolved to find out, I gathered up my things and set off again. It was an odd time. My throat was parched, my stomach was still complaining of emptiness and dragur-pulp related nausea, my feet, back and arms ached abominably, but I knew that anything other than putting one foot before the other was a sure death sentence. I wasn't ready to give up, not when I had just found freedom. I sang my little heart out all through the passages. There were a few touchy moments when my song faltered for too long or I hit the wrong note, when the dratted things would suddenly come alive again and I'd be forced to defend myself. I learned quickly though.
I never found a doorway, no matter how deep into the Wodfen I went. The closest I found to a way out was an earthen wall that, when poked, gave way to a rabbit run. Knowing that my salvation lay on the other side of that loose mud, I started to swing that pickaxe once again. Swinging and singing until my hands bled and my voice grew hoarse, I only just managed to make a space big enough to admit my slender body before the wights woke up once more.
I have to say, the sunrise through a small dirt hole had never looked so beautiful to my eyes as it did on that day. Once on the damp grass outside, I hastily filled in the space I'd left behind, then I broke down in tears, thankful to be alive.
I hadn't found much of interest in there, although truth be told I hadn't been looking, but what little trinkets I had stuffed into my pockets came in very handy in the next small village where I traded them for some food, a proper water skin, some better weapons and some sturdy leather boots and trousers.
