Tales of Ruuin - Homecoming

The Von Eisenstein Mausoleum

The Von Eisenstein mausoleum was a vast structure deep in the old and derelict noble quarter of the graveyard. Just like the slums beyond the imposing iron-spiked graveyard wall, the final resting places of Tal's wealthiest families had seen better days. No surprise, considering that an old man and a boy were responsible for several acres of the dead.

At least the crypt was easy to find, its foundation indeed sunken by several feet, giving the once magnificent temple-like structure a decidedly different look. Echser tilted his head, squinting at the ancient behemoth with its massive stone blocks, its weather, and time-eaten gargoyles and statues. Some of them lay tipped over, layers of lichen and graveroots shrouding them like spider webs. The longer he looked, the more the ancient tomb reminded him of a massive toad perched on uneven ground. The analogy was more disturbing than he cared for. Would this ugly brute gobble them up like a fly? Gulp them down into its slimy stomach and devour—

Something hit him in the back.

"Is everything all right, old friend? You look a tad pale," said Craven, slapping him again for good measure. The lunatic could move as silent as a wraith.

"Worried? Worried! Of course, I am worried! Who in his right mind wouldn't be?"

"I am not."

"That's what I am saying!"

"Nonsense, my friend..." Echser went rigid as Craven reached up and draped a comradely arm around his bony shoulders. The audacity of the man! The gall! "I am probably the sanest person you will ever meet, and though it may be hard to believe right now – I am doing this for your benefit."

"My benefit?" gasped Echser. "Benefit!?"

"Quite so."

"How in the name of Science should any part of this nightmare turn out to be a benefit?"

Craven gave him a smile that, combined with his fathomless dark eyes, reminded him very much of that of a shark. "You will see, old friend, you will see."

Echser wiggled out of his embrace. "And what's this thing with 'old friend' all the time? I only met you a week ago, and the things you've done to me this day alone... No friend would ever be so cruel. Ever!"

Craven's grin grew wider still. "Oh, that's where you wrong. Something you will come to understand soon enough, I am sure, and as to why I call you old friend'?" A lazy shrug. "It is simple enough. You are my only friend, and thus, you are my oldest friend."

Echser blinked, not sure how to dispute this explanation – it was quite logical, after all. "But—"

Muffled voices interrupted his train of thought. Moments later, Hornbach and his assistant Stefan came into view, muttering to one another. The youngster had exchanged his spade with a large sledgehammer, Hornbach carrying crowbar and spade. The old undertaker had also changed into fresh garments and made a thorough attempt at cleaning himself. His long grey hair was still wet, his wrinkled skin scrubbed pink, yet when he drew closer, Echser could not fail to notice that the stench of the sewer still clung to him like a discarded lover. He glared balefully at Echser.

The alchemist blinked. "What?"

"You know 'what', beanpole!"

"Beanpole! The outrage!"

Craven padded the air in a calming gesture. "Peace, friends, there is no time to argue. The shadows lengthen... We only have two hours of daylight left, then the ghouls will rise from their slumber, and things will become exceedingly more difficult. Best put those tools you brought to good work."