To Dungeons Deep (1/2)

The midday sun swung high in the sky, gleaming diamonds from the snowy peaks that ran behind the small party of pirates, and pirate-adjacent personnel. The slope in front of them was steep, but all of them were nimble, even the small porcelain form which walked in the middle of the crew. That form was carrying a backpack larger than it was... much larger, if you discounted the illusion.

Said illusion also cloaked a worried looking plush fox's head, as it poked out of the pack and looked around, worried.

“Where are we going?” Renny asked, in a whisper so faint that Threadbare barely heard it.

Threadbare shrugged, trying to make it look like he was adjusting the pack. “I don't know,” he whispered.

“I'm making illusionary wind noises to cover our whispering,” Renny said. “I just thought of that. It's a little hard.”

Threadbare nodded. “All right. I don't know where we're going. Anne mentioned a dungeon when she sent the scouts out, but I don't know why she needs one. Or why she had me disassemble the engine.”

It had been one of the working ones, too. It had taken every rank of dexterity that Threadbare possessed to get it apart without damaging anything. On the plus side, that had been enough for another Tinkering skill level.

On the downside, the engine was heavy. Threadbare was taking stamina damage as he walked, not quite enough that it was a problem yet, but enough that he was dreading having to carry it back uphill, later.

Fortunately he didn't think he had far to go. The scouts were showing signs of exhaustion. Which made sense, when you thought about it. Everyone here was primarily a pirate, and pirates generally let their ships do the traveling. Climbing rigging and running around the decks and doing chores doubtless ate up stamina, but when push came to shove they just weren't used to walking long distances.

“Keep quiet for a bit and stay ready,” Threadbare whispered. “Whatever's going to happen will happen soon.”

“There!” shouted the crewbunny who'd shooed Threadbare away from Anne's door.

The word echoed through the gorge's divide, and every beastkin froze, staring around.

Anne pulled out a pistol slowly, and the crewbunny cowered, waving her hands and muttering “Sorry, sorry, sorry cap'n!”

“Aye, ye are that,” Anne said, barely murmuring. “Voices down and be glad a gunshot would carry further.”

That poor crewbunny was shuddering as Threadbare passed her. And he wondered, not for the first time, why so many people followed her.

“It's there, Cap'n,” said a Scout, pointing down the slope, to a long tumble of stones that Threadbare had initially taken for the remnants of an avalanche. But now that they were closer, he could see that there was a pattern to their placement. Some had crumbled, yes, but several were at angles that nature probably wouldn't have placed them in.

The mountains sheltered this spot from the rising eastern sun, and dark water seeped out from between the stones. A mountain lake perhaps? There were eddies of it flowing and draining away, but he saw no streams feeding the pool.

“It does give off all the signs of a dungeon, doesn't it?” Threadbare said, shifting his pack.

“Aye,” Anne nodded. Then she walked over, and took the pack from him, hefting it easily with a single hand. “Still under there, Lady?”

“I'm managing,” Threadbare told her.

She frowned, and leaned in closer. “Me eyes must be going. Ye looked a little... flat for a second.”

“Did I?” Threadbare asked, then shrugged.

Over her shoulder, he saw Renny wince, and close his furry eyelids, scrunching up his brow in concentration.

Anne hesitated for another second, then shrugged back. “Too long on land. Me boots be aching to trod the deck again, and it's drawin' me gaze homeward. All right then!” She said, turning back to her crew. “Set up the tents and we'll have us a rest. Build the fires, to keep us warm fer the night is comin' fast. And break out lunch, so we can feast when we're a'done!”

Cheering, and the crewbunnies literally hopped to it. Threadbare looked to Renny, who shrugged and withdrew back inside the pack.

It seemed a lot of trouble to go to for a picnic, but he helped where he could, with a few of the tents.

“Thanks, Lady,” said the crewbunny whom Anne had nearly shot. She was white-furred with brown spots, a little thinner than most of the other crew. She wore an eyepatch that she switched nervously from eye to eye, both of which seemed to work just fine as she shot nervous glances at the dungeon.