From the depths of Finnek an old man was stumbling, his eyes overcome by white cataracts. A morning mist was bathing him, blowing through the blue tinted woods. He held out a cane before himself, tapping gently at the ground before him as he stepped, the rapid and sweeping nature with which he moved the staff suggested a fear of tripping on roots. He looked emaciated and poorly dressed, his skin scabbed in places and his mouth hung wide. The old man was wearing a heavy brown cloak and baggy trousers, a broad brimmed hat atop his head. He was approaching the entrance to the dust mine, staggering forward. As he met with the mine’s great gate, a metal wall which could be slid on the rare occasions it was open (both to the public and for extraction) he placed his knuckle to it; knocking on the cold metal. The storehouse opposite, which he had seemingly missed, was empty… it seemed as though the grounds were completely empty. He had somehow wandered by the metal fence with all its security cameras. The gate had been pushed open, it’s chains not unlocked but no longer present.
“Hello! I-Is anybody in there?! Hello, I think I’ve taken a wrong turn? Hello!? I’m blind you see! I don’t know where I am!” He was calling out to an empty cavern as though it were a cabin in the woods, knocking hard against the door… it didn’t look like the old man’s fist could take hitting it much longer; it was as though he couldn’t even tell the door was metal, rather than wood. The sun had risen, but was blocked out by clouds. Toward the other side of Bellmuse a storm was brewing. He continued to cry out, asking for help.
He was in the clearing before the mines, on the pathway which mine-tracks would be placed for dust to be collected from the mines. He began to push hard against the door, as if trying to open it, fumbling against it in a futile attempt to find a handle. The fog was slowly filtering into the enclosure; if someone didn’t act soon the old man might be forgotten.
“Hello! I-Is anybody in there?! Hello, I think I’ve taken a wrong turn? Hello!? I’m blind you see! I don’t know where I am!” He was calling out to an empty cavern as though it were a cabin in the woods, knocking hard against the door… it didn’t look like the old man’s fist could take hitting it much longer; it was as though he couldn’t even tell the door was metal, rather than wood. The sun had risen, but was blocked out by clouds. Toward the other side of Bellmuse a storm was brewing. He continued to cry out, asking for help.
He was in the clearing before the mines, on the pathway which mine-tracks would be placed for dust to be collected from the mines. He began to push hard against the door, as if trying to open it, fumbling against it in a futile attempt to find a handle. The fog was slowly filtering into the enclosure; if someone didn’t act soon the old man might be forgotten.