Conditions

13th October - The Delve: Late night

Mortimer looked into the eyes of his new companion. Yes the madness was fading, she would grown more stable over time and at the same time more dangerous. With control came power. He considered her words, a lie would not do, she would see it.

"For a start I would like you to stay out of my head unless invited. If we are to be... friends then a modicum of trust and respect is due."

She did not answer, and she did not turn his brain into a puddle of much so he decided it safe to go on, "I have do what was promised, you have more control, more clarity but at a price. As your mind returns to you so will your memories, you feelings. You may feel guilt, or even revulsion at what you have done and what has been done to you. There will be anger too and that you must guard against most of all."

"Go on." she urged, he felt a gentle nudge against his mind but then she withdrew. An agreement or just a game?

"I would advise against turning on me. You require medication to survive and I am the only one who can manufacture and administer it. You may check to see if I am lying... you will also see that although this arrangement serves to keep me safe it was not a deliberate act, simply a fact of your circumstances."

Abigail reached over and clasped his jaw in her hand and turned his head this way and that. A pain like nothing he had ever felt tore through his mind as she slashed through every memory or flcker of through she could lay hold of in search of a lie in his words. He screamed until he was horse and when she finally released him and allowed his head to sag, blood was flowing freely from his nose and eyes. He must have lost consciousness then and when he awoke she was dabbing his face clean with a damp cloth.

"Well Mortimer it seems we are stuck with each other." she walked towards the door. "Well what are you waiting for dear, collect your things we have prison to walk out of. I cant wait to get back to Dusk."

"No." he croaked and she turned.

"What did you say?" she asked sweetly.

"No." he repeated the word louder now, "I have a final condition."

"And what might that be?"

"I need you to help me get into the Deep Delve, to learn the secrets of this place. To master the power... the power of Elesium."

"The power of Elesium here in a slave mine, my dear man I think I broke your poor mind."

"It all started down there." he replied, "Down in the Deep Delve, through the Maw. We need maps, we need equipment."

"Nonsense." she argued, "We go up not down, we are going home."

"You do not understand." he rose and staggered towards her, "This power, these tricks you are now capable of they are nothing... nothing compared to what awaits down there. Elesium rose from the Delve and it is at the heart of the Delve that we will find the means to bring the City in the Sky to its knees..."

Elsewhere in the Delve: Late night

Oaks and Gabriel stumbled through the dark. Glowing fungi grew from the walls all around them which was lucky as the torch their guide had given them had burned out hours ago. They had only Gabriel's lighter now, which they were trying to use sparingly.

"What is that?" Gabriel pointed towards a mound on the stone ahead of them and they carefully crept forward towards what appeared to be the rotting corpse of a Delve Hound and a dead man. Raising his hand to his mouth to guard against the stench Gabriel ignited his lighter over the dead mans face. It was frozen in a rictus of pain and anger.

"Ashen." Gabriel said as he began to rifle through the mans pockets. Oaks spied a pack strewn nearby and scrambled over towards it. He soon found a lamp with a good amount of oil still remaining to it. Getting that lit he took in the surroundings. There had been a fight here, and not just between the Ashen and the hound. In fact he could see that the Hound had died from a bullet wound not claws or teeth. He returned his attention to the pack and pulled out a small leather bound tome. He flicked through the pages...

"Fuck me, this is his." he exclaimed.

"What? who?" Gabriel came over and peered over his shoulder at the scrawled hand writing.

Oaks flicked back to the first page and pointed to the name in the top right hand corner which read Mavromichali Mortimer.

"We are close. We are so close I can smell it."

"Unless "It" is a dead dog I am suprised you can smell a fucking thing." Gabriel laughed, "Come on let's leave the stench behind and make camp further down that way." He indicated a side passage.

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