Into the Valley of Death

Early this morning I awoke to a shuffling sound coming from one of the other tents. When I went outside Klaus was examining the third of our four tents and there was a definite shadow moving around inside. We stood like this for about fifteen minutes, listening to something clutter about, cursing, scuffing its boots, when Klaus decided to just knock it away from its pegs and reveal its intruder.

Robert.

He looked horrible. His shirt was mostly rags and he had several cuts on his face that looked like he had gotten whacked with branches. His hands were calloused and burnt and his hair was patchy at best, but his eyes...his eyes were the worst. Robert's eyes were bright and alert and yet somehow clouded over, and it scared me. I haven't seen him like this ever before.

He didn't notice us, though, until he had found what he was looking for - a small black leather satchel. I don't know what was inside; originally it had a first aid kit but it could be anything at this point. When he had the satchel he stood up straight and looked at us with disdain for a few moments before turning and shambling off to the southwest, in the exact opposite direction of the forest. Klaus threw a few rocks at him, but I honestly don't think Robert felt anything at all.

Then I looked at where he was going. There were some old stone buildings in the distance - ruins. And they hadn't been there before.

Everett out.

Miss me?

Not like I was gone my dear children...I am always watching from the sidelines.


Shall we commence to play our game? Because I have some fun for all the family in mind!

My everything hurts

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.

Klaus has been unfairly beating me since we met. It is not enjoyable. He said it was for my own good, but it's basically amounting to me making an observation on a bird that's picking up burning twigs for its nest or a car that's smoking and puttering around and then getting cuffed hard on the back of the head. He also promised he would help me find and perhaps fix Robert, but so far we've sat around doing nothing and making observations about birds and cars and the strength of old men.

I'll post again when we get to business, but I wanted to make sure everyone knew we weren't dead. Well, maybe Robert is, by this point. But I don't think so, and I wouldn't want him to be anyway.

Everett out.

Klaus Gage

The child led me to a hovel about a mile away from our original encampment. I paid him what I promised for his help, and started walking up the path. The surrounding area was a bit swampy, but as long as I stuck to the dirt it wasn't so hard to get through.

There was a sign above the door that said, in very messy, scrawled-out handwriting, "Kein Zutritt!" Of course that wasn't going to stop me. I knocked on the door, and a gravelly voice shouted "Verpiss dich lieber!" I waited for him to say something else. "Ich hab ne Knarre!" I paused again, but nothing else seemed to be forthcoming.

"Klaus?" I called.

There was a grunting noise, a shuffling noise, and then the door opened. He was hunched over, and I knew it wasn't just for effect; his back was twisted from years of hermitage - or from something worse, maybe. His face was mostly hidden behind a thick, matted salt-and-pepper beard, but it wasn't hard to see the touch of madness in his eyes. For all his ways of discouraging visitors, he was well-dressed in a suit and tie, though I think his shirt was around backwards. In his arms was a long gun. "Was willst du?" he said.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak German."

"Huh," he said. "What do you want?" I couldn't find even the slightest touch of an accent in his words.

"My partner and I were on a dig, you see, a mile or so from here, and if you're Klaus Gage..."

"Yes?" He was looking at me suspiciously, like he knew what I was going to say.

"We found your trunk." He dropped the gun and grabbed me by the shoulders, wincing from the pain in his back.

"Get out. Get out now before it gets you, too."

"Mr. Gage, I just wanted to see if you could tell me anything about this...you see, my partner, Robert, has reacted badly to what was in the trunk, and I hoped you could help me show him the light."

"It's gotten him? This Robert? Then he's doomed. Get out now while you can. Go home!"

"Mr. Gage, please. I don't believe in fairy tales."

Then he slapped me. For an old cripple, he hit me pretty hard. He grabbed up his gun again and began limping about the hut, throwing several things into an old trash bag. "We must go. It is coming." I was very confused, but I helped him gather what he asked for. Klaus brushed past me and hobbled out the door, beckoning me to follow. I hadn't gone ten feet out of the door when the place erupted into flame. Klaus didn't even look back, but I couldn't resist. There was someone standing in front of the hut, watching it burn. He was at least eight feet tall. "Turn. Keep walking. If you can't see it it can't see you."

I thought that was pretty ridiculous too, but it seemed to be working well enough for Klaus, so I followed him back to town, and from there led him to the dig site. Robert's old watch was resting on top of my pillow, the face cracked, as if smashed by a knife, or perhaps a sword. The clock had stopped at 11:00 exactly.

Everett out.

Arghhhhhhhh

Despite Robert's repeated denials that I will find Klaus, one of the village children believes that he can show me the way. It was difficult getting any information at all as the best I have to work with are a few stray words and a phrasebook. I plan on following the child's directions within the week, though probably nearer to the end of it. Until then I'll hope Robert comes to his senses.

Just a short update. To let you know I'm alive and kicking. And have a plan.

My God, Robert...what have we done?

Well done!

He got it right!


The rest of you...Well you made quite a mess of yourselves there.

It was amusing...I will give you that.

Poor Kurt...11 years old...On holiday from England...


Taken by a strange man, forced to talk to the microphone and then...

Well you just don't want to know what He did to him.

And you wont even remember him.

If you want to know what it really said...Go ahead...Just do not expect it to mean anything any more.

I do hope you continue playing

What a horrible mess...

You are solving this task slower the you ought to have done...


Are you sure you are on the right track?

Lets have a warm up, shall we?

Have Fun!

Come and play

follow the instructions to confirm your participation.

Look closely

Play His game

My head hurts

I voyaged into the woods at around noon. I had my lighter, my knife, a length of rope, a flashlight and a pack of extra batteries. None of which helped much. The woods were lit well enough, as it was the middle of the day, despite their moniker. After nearly an hour of trekking and not finding anything but the occasional insect, I heard a melody being played from somewhere to my right. It sounded like a piano. Needless to say, I waded through the leaves towards it. There was Robert; at least, I think it was Robert.

I saw him from behind at first, and it really just looked like a black oblong with a fringe of red hair upon it. It was obvious that whoever it was was the one playing the white piano. He turned, and it looked enough like Robert, if Robert put on a shapeless black robe. Then I blacked out.

Woke up...yesterday. Back at our camp. It looked as if nothing had changed, and closer inspection revealed that, in fact, nothing had changed. It was as if the place had frozen in time. The town hadn't, though. All the residents were bustling about and I swear I heard the odd gossip about Robert and I. Something tells me that at least some of them know about this "knight" thing, but they all refused to tell me.

Lastly I've tried to contact our sponsor, but I haven't gotten a single word. It's as if they've disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Next step, try to find out about this Klaus Gage guy.

Everett out.

Dug too deep

Hello, Spencer, and I'm sorry for not replying to your comment; I've been...busy. Firstly, Robert's disappeared into the forest, so no mental hospital for him. However, he's left me the trunk. Nothing inside it, but the trunk, certainly. It's a good trunk. Very sturdy. Good for sitting and thinking.

And I've been doing plenty of thinking.

I'm going to follow Robert tomorrow. I'm going into town today to pick up some more supplies and ask if anyone knows about this "Der Ritter" thing. I may be an optimistic man, but I don't believe in old fairy tales.

Something tells me I should try and get in contact with our sponsor, as well.

Everett out.

Can you hear the music? It echoes...Resonating from within...

We all have a song inside, you know... But how hard do you listen?

I listened too long to my song...and now it listens to me.

whispers...Beckoning me closer into the darkness...Fear...Clinging at me...Warding me...warning me...

I listen not. Darkness brings comfort...a snuggness about it. I will walk closer into the darkness...

fool.

Do you listen to the words you speak?

Butyouknowthatyouwanttogodeeperdontyou

I stared out at the night last night...I looked into the forest beyond...

The knight Himself awaits me...

I crave His darkness

Trouble

I think Robert's a bit too obsessed with this dig, whatever he may say. He's grabbed everything he can carry from the trunk and gone inside the tent. He snaps at me and shoos me away if I so much as step my toe inside. Rob's generally sensible, so it can't last long. All the same, I'm worried about him. It could be that he's some kind of homesick; despite his constant complaints I'm certain he doesn't really hate the country all that much. Germany's a nice place.

The cuisine could've gotten to him. Maybe he has food poisoning. Unfortunately the herbal tea he packed was confiscated at the airport, so he'll have to live with it. And I'll have to live with him!

Everett out.

Contents

It took us a while, but we've got the trunk. The inscription says:

"Beweis für die Existenz des Ritters - Klaus Gage"

For those of you non-German-speakers out there, that translates roughly to "Evidence of the existence of the knight," as far as I can figure. Now, inside the trunk is what is much more interesting. There are a few wood carvings depicting, well, woods, and humanoid shapes. There's one very interesting one of some kind of man-spider's skeleton having a jousting battle with a human. Fascinating stuff. There's also a few vases decorated with similar figures, depicting horrifying scenes...there's one or two black-and-white photographs near the bottom. All I could see is trees, but Robert snatched them out of my hands before I could get a closer look. He's fawning over them. I don't blame him. He really isn't having a good time here, so it's nice he can be doing something interesting.

We'll keep going through. I'll post an update if we notice something really amazing.

Everett out.

Residential

We may have found something. Which is good. For me, at least. I quite enjoy Germany. And after all this trouble, and all the money our sponsor's spending, I would hate to come back emptyhanded.

Anyway, we've uncovered part of a gilded trunk, including a handle. From its looks, it's incredibly heavy. We'll be digging around it for a while to see if there's anything else, and then maybe we'll see what's inside. There seems to be an inscription on it, but much of it is eroded or covered. All we can see now is "B     is   f d    E   tt   - Kla  s Gage".

Everett out.

Harken unto me

Hello, world! If you're reading this then you've, for one reason or another, come across the blog of the two-man archaeologist team of Everett Felame and Robert Terbor, otherwise known as the Abel Corps Digging Company. Abel Corps for short. We've been on a few tours around the United States, where I was born (Rob's English), but the success of that can be summed up with our most interesting find: a carved rock. Recently, however, we got an email from a very kind sponsor who decided to fund a trip to Germany. This sponsor - we haven't had very much contact with them - apparently found what could prove to be an interesting dig spot, but didn't have the manpower or tools to actually start an excavation. That's where we came in. God knows why they chose us, but we're glad they did. And they asked us to make this blog for the duration of our stay here.

Unfortunately we've been here for over two months and haven't found anything. Not the slightest pottery fragment, not a splinter of a wood carving, or even the most faded etching in stone. Just dirt and sand. If we don't find something in the next two weeks, we're packing up and going home to Florida.

Anyway. Tomorrow Rob'll introduce himself and then...then I guess we'll see what we can find.

Speaking of introducing, I think I'll introduce myself a little. I was born on October 31, 1983, to Everett and Yvette Robertson. Which makes me Everett Robertson, Jr., or it did until I was married to Annabel Felame. I took her name because she was an only child, and thus there was nobody else to pass on the name, whereas I have both a brother and a sister. Then Annabel left me for another man. I'm not bitter, really, because it was a straight-out-of-college fling and doomed not to last, but I still wish she had stayed. I keep her name as a reminder of my mistakes. And my love. Sometimes I feel like I can't love anymore, on those days when we're camping at a dig site and I can't sleep. It only got worse when, a year later, my father died in some kind of horrible accident. Even today nobody's really sure what happened. Rest in peace, Everett Robertson.

Anyway. Enough soppy reminiscing from me.

Everett out.

Hello...Internet

Hello. I'm Robert. I dont now why I've been asked to do this "blog" thing. I hate these machines and yet our society makes them so vital. It's enough to drive you mad.

I suppose I should clarify the finer points of my life.

I hate German weather;

I don't like the sound of the German language;

This German dig is boring;

German laws and customs annoy me;

All in all, I am not enjoying this one bit.

I am currently in a cold on-site tent feeding off what little Internet this portable memory chip thingy gives me. I don't really understand it all to be honest...

I don't really understand why anybody would care enough to read this. I sincerely hope no one is sad enough to try... I hope our empty words, echoing out to empty spaces and hollow dreams that compose the bittersweet symphony we call life, are unheard and unheeded...

Looking at the post my colleague put up... He is taking a rather optimistic approach. This is all just another adventure, as far as he is concerned.

Adventure my arse. I want to be home. Surrey was much simpler...

And the Earl Grey half decent.

I suppose I should also clarify that I am not American. My mother decided I should go to Harvard instead of Oxford and I reluctantly went along. I got the qualifications needed for...whatever this is...and the results were thoroughly disappointing. Our presence here is superfluous; the wind itself could do a better job at digging these trenches.

I sincerely apologise for the chords made within our throats that are reaching out to your ears in the form of rambling textual torture rooms... I would expect a lot of them if I were you.

Till we next meet- Robert