Magnificent.
I don't even have to do anything, I just say some things and off they go.
Zerbus would be proud.
Leaning against the light post, I observe two of the guys carrying over some spare metal from the nearby crate. Bending over, they crush some primstone with their bare hands, breathing in its colored scent.
Not long after, one of them named Pete uses his calloused fingertips conjure up a crude flame, holding it against the metal, turning it red.
Apparently, once infected, their mana ability degrades after continued use. It still looks weird to watch, but I suppose I should be thankful for your sacrifice Pete.
Letting out a half smile, I lean over the gorge. Two other workers come into view, climbing only partway down the ladder with their small bodies, they start hammering away these newly formed pitches into the hard rock.
The sound travels up after a brief delay.
Good good. This seems to be working
Breathing in the salty air, It sticks to my throat's back and I exhale deeply.
Next to me, both dodger and boxer grunt to themselves. Carrying over the first basin with slow steps, they drop it at my feet, walking back to retrieve the second.
"Slowly, carry her slowly, we don't want there to be any bruises by the next day." My voice drips out, bathing my shaking hands with its warm air.
"That's all part of the fun ain't it dodger."
"Anything to shut her up, hahahaha."
I rub my eyes as they slug up the weighty load between their shared strength.
Misogyny is my greatest social lubricant. It has made me no friends... yet. But I know it's the truth. I've seen it time and again, working, bonding men in desperate crisis.
"Say that in front of Ileane, if you have the balls." I yawn back, matching their names to their faces.
"No one's that crazy, not even you. If she'll suspect anything of the like, she'll pop your balls before you can even crack in ten breaths" Dodger. Right.
"Ten breaths? Ha, I only need Five." Boxer chimes in.
"Five breaths, one moan," I hold up a finger, "then we'll all be dying on the ground together, just like ol francis." I clap back.
"Hahahah. Then the world just might really end. All those bodies, who would've guessed that the real calamity of our time was just some drunken women." Precisely, Dodger. Keep eating my master bait.
"Ask any husband, and they'll know." I continue fishing.
"Hear hear." Boxer nods his bald head.
"You married, boxer? What are you even agreeing for." I chuck him a sly grin.
"What?! Every man knows this... I may not have any wives, but, neither do you."
"Well, I might not have had any wives, girlfriends, or partners," nor parents, close friends or even passing mates from school...
"You going to finish what yer was saying." Dodger grunts, kicking over a rock as he steps closer.
"Sorry, I was just wondering if any of us actually have had the companionship of a woman before. I know I haven't."
"..."
From across the basin we stare blankly at each other, their faces go stiff hands fumbling as they almost drop the cargo.
"Grumble grumble. Very busy lately." - Boxer.
"Grumble, grumble. Haven't had the time." -Dodger.
I take it as a no then.
"Well, we might not have any wives, nor woman, nor experience, but who even needs them when you got brothers as close as us, and woman as sneaky as them."
"Hear, hear." - Boxer.
"Too good, friends." - Dodger.
We all let out a reserved cheer, only for it to be drowned out moments later by the faint sound of chipping rock and our awkward stares at one another.
Right.
Shuffling over, I help them tie the cargo around to the brace, plugging my ears forcefully as they carry it over the edge, dropping it down.
Thud.
"Yous ready then." I call out, stepping back some seven steps.
"Ai Ai." Dodger's voice calls back.
Grabbing on with their large hands, they plunge down the salty basin into the foggy obscure.
Swinging around, you can hear the container's lid as it shaves against the rock with some rough blows, precipitating down what appears to be the shavings of grey snow all to those who stand below.
From below, it'll look like its raining or something cool, too bad I'm up here, working.
Stretching my arms out, I trudge over to the pulley once more, calling over the crew to gather.
On their approach, I pull lightly against the cord, watching as it snakes around frantically in the air.
Dropping it soon after, it settles down for a few breaths passed; only to start whipping at the air once more, this time pulled on from the origin beneath.
"Just where are they." I whisper, clearing my throat as I spot the the last two of the ten finally emerging from atop the ladder, hobble over to join our chain of sweaty men.
"All right men, all together now. Heave ho the seed has grown." I pull first from the front.
"HEAVE HO, the food has grown." They answer back.
"HEAVE HO, must work the bone."
"HEAVE HO, to feed the sow." They chant back, pulling from behind.
"And Again... Heave ho the seed has grown."
"HEAVE HO, the food has grown."
"HEAVE HO, must work the bone."
"HEAVE HO, to feed the—"
"GYARD!" A shrill cry erupts from over the ridge, running towards us. His tiny body sprints past us, touching the light before binding himself to the rope, jumping over the ledge.
Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit. More warning would've been nice.
My eyes flashing with orange light, catch only singular frames as the work continues.
Five, ten, no twenty large arms, threading the rope around and again with heavy precision, illuminated only by the sharp light. Huffing, puffing the rope barely catches its breath, constricted then squeezed by forceful bondage around its metal cage.
I catch my pair of scrawny arms mingling amongst the rest, helping leverage the fraying wire against the immense weight of two loads.
Their quick but nimble hands finish wrapping the tight knot, then, my vision adjusts, barely. Looking at one another I see them nod quickly before scattering under the warm light.
Wait for me.
Chasing from behind, Eleven of us, sprint wildly towards the edge; our paths guided by the shadows of orange light, lurking from behind.
My hands, open, swing forward tugging along the rest of my body as I hurl towards the edge.
The crooked rock below curves to a downward descent, my boots, leaping across this cold but shiny surface, fail to find their footing, and at that exact moment, the kick.
The wind picks up, the light dims, then hair floats up as us small fleas all jump from the giant's back. A majestic diver, a meditative monk, a flopping belly and me, the tumbling buffoon, all spilling out over into the ocean of black.
My hands covering my face, slam into the hardened rock. Wrenching back, my neck lashes out against my back, then it too strikes against the limestone, dangling loosely like some knotted thread.
Toiling pain closes my eyes, and with what sense remains, my hands feel the damp wall clenching around its pointed rock.
"Boss, I hate to say this but, you did good for a first." Dodger whispers from above.
"Damn good for a prune." Another voice echoes from further across.
"Oh, you guys." I choke out a painful cry.
"That said, we have a small problem."
Scrunching my face up, I let out another half sob.
When will it end!!!
The rock punches at my hand, causing it click.
Sniffling for a moment, my two hands are wiped clean by my snotty face.
"Well... What is it then!?" I croak out my reply.
"The pulley, sir, look at it."
Shifting my position horizontally, I hold my left hand over my bugged eyes, blinking fiercely to focus on the shaking from above.
I sigh.
It will break. When it does, it falls, when it falls, the guards will come. Worst of all, the group below. I can't see nothing with all this fucking fog, it would be so easy to just leave it.
No! If anyone is underneath, if Tim was underneath.
Move, why waste your life when you can spend it all, fighting for all your worth and every damn cent.
Fight.
Take my life as a coupon, buy one to get forty three.
"HAHAHAHHAHAAAAAA!" Reaching out a blurry hand, I claw into the ropes circulation. My skin fraying as it peels, tugs on the weighty burden.
"Insane." A voice whispers.
"HAHAHAHAH. I can assure you I am. Now, whose with me?"
"Fuck it, I'm in boys." Boxer reaches out too grabbing onto the dangling weight.
"Boxer you bun-head, we are brothers, and you don't even think to ask me to join you too." Dodger shouts out, reaching out his right arm, jumping free from the rock as he grabs hold of the payload too.
"Shame to you," he spits, turning his body to me afterward. "Desmond, if we shall do this, we are all in, virgins for life, until our deaths."
"Haha, still worried about such things, only demons exist where we will be going." Truer words have never escaped from my mouth before.
"Even if we live, those vile woman will remain, so I suppose what I'm saying is that it doesn't matter where we end up, as long as we are all together in the bitter end."
"Respect women more you turds. Stacey will be mine." Another voice interrupts our shining moment, and before long the weight lightens slightly.
"You pigs don't deserve to even eat, wait till my wife hears about this." The weight lifts significantly as the rest of them eventually steady their resolve, and commit themselves to this forced action.
Looking above, the pulley groans, managing to hold itself together. Despite this, the light stays shining on, raining from above.
Following my gaze back down, each of their faces poke into clear view.
I watch the intensity of my brother's faces, straining red and refusing to yield, all for my sake.
Tearing up at them, I gulp down another pile of snotty glump and whisper out.
"Thanks."
It's all I can get out before my face scrunches up further; dragging harder on the cold, heavy and burning rope, I picture a smile on all our faces. Ones of which I wish to see when it's all over.
To war. To victory. To friends.
I try to smile but the twitching rope suddenly turns weightless.
The sound travels before it fails, and then, we all fall.