Lurking in the Ruins
Carin knew it was an awful risk delving so deep into the Creeplands. The Spawn were everywhere, in the sense they could appear when least expected. Nowhere was safe, even if there seemed to be no danger for miles.
But there was a great deal of wealth to be found in the lands of the Spawn, if one knew where to look. Old burial grounds from when people lived quietly centuries ago often had good trinkets to take, though selling them wasn't always easy given the disapproval of graverobbing.
The forts left over from the Crusades, on the other hand, they were more than acceptable for pilfering, if one could brave them.
There were dozens across the Creeplands, though most had more thoroughly decayed given their rapidly constructed nature; only a handful of more permanently minded fortresses were ever built, and the ones made of wood no longer existed.
But the ones made of stone, their remains could still be found, crumbling grey eyesores in more pristine environments... or on the borderlands of the Creeplands, where the corrupting veins of dark, inky Creep snaked across the land, slowly encroaching on the landscape.
Either way, Carin knew they often had valuables in them; old weapons that withstood the toll of time, or treasures brought by soldiers and knights and officers, left behind when the forts were abandoned.
She knew of the hazards too, and not just the Spawn that liked to lurk in the ruins, waiting for careless adventurers to cross their path. The dilapidated structures themselves -- piles of old stone, rotten wood planks, all of which were ready to give way at a moment's notice, when the time was most inopportune -- were perilous.
Luck went hand in hand with experience in such places, Carin believed, as she even now clambered up a pile of stone bricks, the remains of a long collapsed wall, allowing her to climb the berm surrounding the fort up to the breach, the remaining sections of the wall rising up to either side, connected to towers, the one on the left partially collapsed and forming its own debris pile that spilled down the berm beneath it.
Carin paused for breath, and looked up at the sky; it was sunny when she arrived, but clouds were moving in now. She couldn't be certain if it would just become overcast or if a storm was on its way, but it meant she needed to leave soon regardless.
And she just got to the fort. It'd have to be a quick looting.
If the cloud cover became thick enough, the likelihood of her being assailed by Spawn increased.
And she knew her dark grey and brown leathers and thick cotton cloak would offer little defence against them. They were for weather and hazard protection, not protecting her from Spawn. She had boots with deep tread for traction, and gloves made of leather and cotton, fitted with studs made of a different kind of leather for grip.
It helped her climb walls and collapsed stone in ruins all the time, and let her avoid a few bruises -- or only leave with bruises instead of open gashes -- and other minor injuries.
She sighed, and resumed her climb until she was at the top of the breach.
Now that she was able to look into the bailey, she could see its layout was fairly mundane; there were several wooden structures -- most almost rotten from the elements -- that would've once been a stables, a smithy's shop, a small guard house, and more. All of those arrayed around the inner bases of the walls. A gatehouse marked the 'front' of the fort, but Carin hadn't gone through it, as it too had collapsed and become almost impossible to pass.
Across from it, against the 'back' of the fort was the main keep, and like the gatehouse and the section of wall Carin climbed through, it too had partially collapsed... or rather, on one side, the entire face of the structure had come down, revealing still-standing floors with furniture and bedding, perhaps the barracks of the fort.
That's one of the places she was likely to find good treasures.
She climbed down from the top of the breach and looked around, keeping an eye on the shadows; there wasn't much here anymore, but what one didn't see was what one should fear the most.
She frowned, and readjusted the hide rucksack slung on her back, worrying a dagger sheathed on her hip, just in case.
She strolled across the bailey, feeling the dirt crunch beneath her boots. The sun cooled atop her hood, and the scavenger knew she'd have to be quick.
She started the climb up the pile of stone leading to the middle levels of the keep, at least what were exposed to the open.
As she climbed, a stone she went to grab came loose and tumbled down the pile with a clattering sound. A grinding cracking followed, as the pile decided whether or not it'd remain stable. Carin was still for a good moment, before things finally seemed to stabilise.
She let out a sigh, and resumed her ascent, albeit more slowly than before.
Carin knew how dangerous this was... but she couldn't ignore the allure. The thrill of the hazards, the curiosity to explore long-forgotten domains, and the excitement of finding something worth coin.
It was what brought her back time and time again, despite the small scar above her right eye she'd gotten doing this adventurous looting.
She couldn't stop, and she wouldn't until something made her stop.
Another stone came loose and tumbled down the tremendous pile of ruined brickwork, but it did not seem to bother the pile, so Carin kept going until she was on the wooden and stone floor of the second floor of the keep.
She was tentative with her steps, intuitively knowing from experience where the floor was weakest, and most stable.
Though the important part was accepting that it was
all
weak and liable to collapse. As long as she accepted that, she could make the calculated risks.
There were a few beds towards the back of the room, and some of them had chests at their feet.
Carin made her way over, avoiding a hole in the floor that, upon a glance upwards, revealed a hole in the floor above, and holes all the way to the roof, as though something had punched all the way through from high above.
She inched towards the beds, until she felt a bit more confident in the stability of the surface she stood on, and moved a bit faster until she was crouching before them.
She opened it up, and scrunched her nose up in disgust; someone had left food in the chest, lots of it. Though it didn't have a pungent odour of rot, the stale smell of long-decayed and desiccated food was still terribly unpleasant.
She rifled through the chest, noting the cloth bags inside were what contained the food, and they were all stained through.
There was nothing of value, so she shut the chest and moved onto the next.
She heard thunder in the distance, and knew then that a storm was indeed on its way, though the faint rumble meant it was a ways off.
It was the sound of stone tumbling down stone that made her pause.
She looked up, back towards the space opening up to the outside.
Nothing was there, but it made her uneasy.
Carin shook her head as though trying to shake fearful thoughts from her, and started searching through the next chest, and immediately found a coin purse.
Her eyes lit up, and she plucked it from the chest, tearing off the badly decayed string -- practically disintegrating in her gloves -- and checked inside.
Sure enough, there were old Bronze Tallies inside. Likely not acceptable currency anymore, but they were still valuable to the right people, and some paid for good bronze, and old Tallies were made of high-quality bronze, unlike many of the currencies in current mint.
She pulled a small bag out of her ruck and poured the old Tallies into them, and placed the now filled bag back into her ruck. She checked the rest of the chest, but found nothing valuable inside, so she moved onto the next.
She found it was locked, but she didn't need the key. Or to pick the lock. She simply grabbed the old, rusted latch, and with some force and a grunt of effort, snapped it off.
The chest opened, and she immediately came face to face with herself, looking upon an old silver mirror that still possessed its shine.
She spent a while looking at her face, a little dusty from trekking across the land to the fort. The pink scar above her left eye gave her a slightly fierce look, and she knew it intimidated people when she scowled. She used it to her advantage.
Her eyes themselves were a dull aquamarine, but one time, she had a scavenger partner tell her they twinkled when she found loot.
Her lips were thin, and slightly cracked from the dry air... she really needed to drink more water. Her features were also angular, one woman describing them as hawkish.
Yet still she had some feminine charm, because men, drunk or not, hit on her all the time at bars. She turned them all down, and sometimes had to draw her dagger on them to make the point... with a sharp point.
Messy brunette hair clung to her scalp beneath her hood, the stringy hair normally neck-length.
She really did look like the picture of hardened adventuress.
Carin smirked and picked up the silver mirror, placing it in her ruck, though it was a little big for her bag.
Still, if she had to leave now, she at least had something to show for it. Which may have been for the best, because the storm sounded like it was drawing nearer.
It got darker as the thicker clouds covered the sun, casting the world in a dim, eerie light. She went to check one of the last chests, when she heard a creaking sound.
She whipped her head up, and saw nothing. She frowned this time; her gut said it wasn't nothing. Her hand went to her dagger, and she decided that perhaps she'd lingered long enough.
Another part of being a successful scavenger was knowing when to cut one's losses. She'd already gained on this trip, so she had no reason to stay if external influences became a bigger problem.
She adjusted her ruck, and turned towards the opening into the outside, ready to make the climb back down to the ground.
Then a black, inky arm clawed over the edge of the broken floor, hauling up a creature behind it.
She froze and grimaced, hand going to her sheathed dagger as she watched this thing pull itself up, growling softly.
