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[Grian] Statement of Tim. F. Chef regarding time spent in the mines. Original statement given 11th July, 1807. Grian Rever Recording. Statement begins.
[TFC] Have you ever been underground? It's really dangerous. You can get blown up, buried alive, poisoned… the list goes on. But this… incident was different.
It was a regular day like any other in the mines. We were looking for tin, when there was a clattering ahead. We all rushed to see what it was, but we couldn't find anything. Then the first weird thing happened.
A man, his name was Mr Tech. Smoke started pouring from the inside of his uniform, but he didn't even seem to notice. He started asking about a canary, how he needed him to be okay. We tried to get him to rest, but he just sprinted off down a corridor, which closed behind him. I saw in my mind an image of a golden-haired boy, falling so very far to the ground, with Mr Tech right behind him.
We kept going- we had to, or we would have been fired and starved to death. We were all so focused on our jobs that when the next arrival came it startled us terribly. A performance. Misters Revere and Siv, they called themselves, and poor Mr Ellfstrom was their victim. During the final act, he was pulled through a wall of Diorite. We never saw him again, although my mind once again received an image. A shipwreck in a flooded cave, Mr Ellfstrom laying motionless with a spear of Diorite in his chest.
As we continued onwards, the tunnels began to become stiflingly hot, and the walls took on the dreadful colour of dried blood. But the walls… the walls were studded with enough gold and quartz to make all of our fortunes. We started hacking away at them, tearing chunks of the precious stones away from the walls. And that was when the monsters came.
A dozen men with the faces of hogs, wielding crossbows and swords and riding impossibly sized pigs. They came storming out of the stone, shooting two of our group before they knew we were under attack. Half of our party immediately sprinted down back the way we had come, but it was no use. The riders were twice their speed. About 6 of us that remained dropped our gold and ran, the rest of them attacking with pickaxes. They too were cut down.
The last I saw of them was a child, staring in awe and delight at a nugget of gold. Then we turned a corner and were gone.
The tunnels gradually cooled, and the stone's colour faded back to grey. We were in… mixed spirits, as we had a massive haul, but at a heavy cost. We came to a crossroads in the tunnels, and like idiots we decided to split into 3 groups. I was going with Welson Night.
The tunnels branched again. And again. We did try to meet up with the others, but their tunnels were just as convoluted. So on we went. We came upon a doorway, and Welson decided to just… open it. And in a flash of colour, he was gone. And I was alone.
I stumbled around like that for longer than I can remember, following the left wall whenever I could, and eventually came upon this room that you find me in.
[Grian] Archivists note: this happened one day as I sat at my desk. I was placed in a chamber, roughly 60 feet in diameter with a huge vaulted ceiling.
[TFC] The doorway is caved in by now, and I am trapped. And then this… weird gemstone started glowing, and in my head I… I gave up my soul. I told it my greatest desire.
And so you are here. I do not wish to be forgotten. I wish to be remembered. I wish for TFC to live on in the pages of history as a hermit.
Farewell, kind sir. I hope this means my wish has been granted.
Statement ends.
[Grian] Underneath this sign-off is a collection of tributes and signatures. Archivist Void, Archival Assistant Tek, Joe Hills… of course Joe got his name on here- and Cleo too, of course. Hang on…
Rendog. How in god's name has a statement-giver got his name on here? Anyway, I'm gonna take this around the archives, collect tributes
[Pen Scratches]
And yeah… TFC's legacy lives on. Long live the eternal Hermit.