Username: Dr. Paine
Name: SSV's Graverobber // Roger
Gender: Male
Collie: CryptkeeperStory: 'Gonna be an easy job, Roge,' the master said, idly scratching the collie's side. 'No one comes here for weeks at a time, we can stay here as long as we want. And it's not even really trespassing, not when we're trying to preserve history, right?' Roger didn't understand all this talk of trespassing and history, nor did he care to, but he made the appropriate noises that made his master smile and give a hearty 'good boy' and more pets, whenever those words came up.
What did he have to know, except to follow through lonely trails and sniff around until he found one of those
old smells, bone and leather and dust smells he'd been trained to, and then to alert his master and maybe dig, if they led underground where there were no doors. Sure it was challenging work but he loved it; the exploring and chasing down hares or ducks to share with the master by the fireside, listening to her talk as they both began to doze, dreaming of tomorrow's treasure.
He was dozing even now, lulled by the crackling embers and distant trickling river, eager to set out further into the ancient forest, to follow scents that ran deeper and older than he'd ever...
His nose twitched, ears perking up as something registered through the haze of sleep. Familiar old scents, yes; rotted wood and that odd reek of soaked paper, motheaten fabric and iron gone to rust, but underneath... something warm. Something
alive, something-
Dog?
Roger bolted upright, swinging around to face the intruder and finding only empty air. Could he have been dreaming? Perhaps, but- no! There, eyes gleaming in the fading firelight, black and tan coat nearly invisible among the trees. Roger's fur bristled as he bared his teeth, glaring at the other dog.
"Leave." Her voice and gaze were the same, a cold stillness like the air in those deep stone halls the master so loved but chilled Roger to the bone. She didn't flinch, didn't seem intent on challenging, and it was Roger who finally glanced away first. Only a second though, he assured himself, only a second to bring her guard down so he could push back harder.
"Why should we leave?" he snorted, drawing himself up taller, trying to look down upon the intruder. "Master says no one uses this land, so why shouldn't we?"
The other dog narrowed her eyes, glancing up at the trees towering above them. "The land exists for itself- but in what might matter to you and
your master, you should know that
my master owns it, and has little patience with trespassers thieves."
Thieves? Roger growled at that, shaking his head. "We don't steal!" he barked. "Master takes what people have forgotten and buried, we save history from being lost!" The same words he'd heard from her before, when other humans had said such things. Thieves took what others needed, but you couldn't steal what was abandoned, right? In that case, it was only right to take it and see it to someone else, where it would be appreciated and see use!
The other collie seemed unmoved though, fixing Roger with a strange, distant gaze before turning tail and darting into the shadows. He barked a final warning, near ready to give chase, but instead settled close to his master's side as she stirred and sighed, lightly pushing him away.
'Dumb dog... just a deer or something, s'nothing to get excited about...' -----
Three days passed since the thieves had entered the forest and invaded the town. Cryptkeeper had followed them all the while- sometimes letting herself be seen by the strange dog, trying to speak to him, but it seemed drawing blood from dry bones would be easier than getting him to see sense. Crypt growled, low in her throat, shaking her head as she picked her way through the crumbled stones that once made up the city's outer wall. 'Be fair,'
Robin had said just the other day, after Crypt had ranted at some length about it all. 'He's not much older than you- and you know how long it took to unlearn everything you'd had to do to survive. This may be all he knows, it may change once he has experience to go with this new knowledge.' Well- fine. The dog had until Sid had enough evidence to make their move anyway, and if he decided to go down with a rotten master, so be it.
Crypt pressed close to a tree as the other two crashed through the undergrowth, heavy boots trampling thin shoots into the dust and careless pawsteps following, Roger sniffing and scratching at the dirt as if he owned the place! She had half a mind to rush him, but no- his master seemed the sort who wouldn't hesitate to throw back a dog, and going on the offensive would ruin the entire point of this chase. She simply watched through narrowed eyes, grudgingly allowing a small touch of admiration for Roger's nosework as he unearthed a trapdoor long buried by leaf litter and dirt, one even she had never known was there! Whose home had this been, what might be buried down there to keep their memories alive? Questions that could be answered, if this were someone who cared, but no. The human just gave Roger a pat and scurried down into the cellar, and soon all Crypt could hear were shufflings and the occasional crash of some thing or another thrown carelessly to the ground. So loud, so
disrespectful- "How can you be part of this?" she growled, stalking up behind Roger. She couldn't even enjoy the way he jumped, startled by her appearance, all she could do was stare him down until he spoke.
"It's our work," he said, as he had the other times. (Though- what was this? He glanced away as he said it, and was there perhaps some hint of uncertainty?) "It's how we eat, how we keep our home- how can it be stealing when no one's been here for ages? When no one even knew it was here, I bet you didn't even know!"
"No, I didn't-" Crypt snapped her teeth, and Roger stepped stiffly back, ears down and eyes wary. She wanted to leap and make good on the threat- but she heard Robin's voice in her mind again, placid and gentle as if explaining to a pup,
'he doesn't know any better. You have to at least try.'So she drew back and crouched, keeping her eyes down and voice steady as she spoke. "No. I didn't know this was here- and I spent my earliest days in this place, as far back as I can remember, until my master found me and took me home. A year among these buildings and their ghosts, and I barely scratched the surface."
She chanced a look up then, relaxing as she saw Roger sitting by the trapdoor, head cocked to one side. "You lived here- what, all alone?"
"No." Crypt looked back towards the town, the decrepit mill clearly visible through the trees. "The people are still here- their homes and work, the way they shaped this part of the forest, the trees they cut for boards, the stones they set as foundations. The food they grew is now part of this stretch- the apples and hollies and blackberry vines, they exist here only because of them; the clothes they wove and books they wrote and all sorts of things they shaped and made. Haven't you noticed any of that?"
Roger squirmed. "I... I don't see much of what Master finds," he finally said, keeping his eyes on the ground. "But if she takes it and sells it, then that's good, isn't it? It means they're not going to be swallowed up by the woods like everything else here!"
"Do you know any of their names?" Crypt shot back, unable to keep the edge from her voice.
"No, but-"
"Do you know who lived in which home? What their work was?"
"Why does it matter?" Roger's voice was tense, and he seemed to pull closer to himself.
'Good', Crypt thought. Be ashamed, maybe something was getting through.
"You say your master preserves history? What's being preserved?" Crypt said, getting back on her paws and circling around Roger. "She only sees
things, old things people will pay richly for because they're old. One in a hundred might recognize the true value, but most simply want to say, 'this ring was made a hundred years ago and I own it now.' They care nothing for the people who made it, the skills they had or why it might have been made. Someone who cares about the history would seek those answers- would turn over every stone in the town to find a scrap of information to link an item and a name, to place everything together when and where it belongs. They want to say who crafted the ring, what the design may say about the family customs or local culture, so that those who see it might understand and feel some connection to that past, and carry it still further through the future, instead of it being some... some trinket, just there to look pretty!"
Roger said nothing. Just kept his head down and eyes anywhere other than hers. Crypt sighed, forcing herself to relax some, to at least not terrify him. "I- I shouldn't get so intense. But please, think about what you're a part of. Even if your master sees nothing wrong with it, at least as far as human laws are concerned, she
is, and if she doesn't turn back, she's going to face the consequences-"
Speak of the devil, there she was running up the stairs, brandishing a silver candleholder and shouting. Crypt turned tail and raced back into the thicket, cringing at the dull
thunk of metal striking wood just behind her. Well- she'd tried, at least in some respect, though with how she acted...
Should've sent Robin, she'd have handled it better, Crypt thought with a sigh. She glanced over her shoulder, slowing down once she was certain neither Roger or his master had given chase. Well... nothing to do but hope for the best, was there? Cryptkeeper put her nose to the ground to find the rest of the pack, to regroup and plan. It'd be done with soon enough in any case, and that was what mattered most, however much it might hurt seeing a dog with so much potential turned down the wrong path.
‐------
She hadn't returned. Roger had stayed extra alert the last two days, despite the wind and rain, trying to catch any sight, scent or sound of the collie who'd been tailing them. She hadn't shown, but others had- three, at least, skirting at the edge of their camps or stalking at the edges of town, as if...
As if drawing a snare?
Roger had been turning over what the other collie had said: that there would be consequences, that his master was doing something wrong... was it true? It was all he'd ever known, following along as a puppy and being so excited to explore those hidden areas, but- thinking back, he remembered as well how silent he'd had to be, how skittish master seemed if it seemed anyone else was coming by, how the items were hidden away...
And then, of course, what
did it mean, to preserve history? He never had heard many names mentioned- rarely, even, where they'd found the things in the first place. He'd always thought those buying them up knew, but if they didn't,
just something there to look pretty, she'd said. Trinkets without meaning.
He didn't want to be part of that.
The realization hit as he followed his master down a cavernous cellar he'd found behind a crumbling wall, just as the rain started to fall. He wanted to help make things last- he liked finding things so they wouldn't be lost to the dark forever, right? But how much had they left behind already?
Roger's ear flicked- just behind, were those pawsteps? He cast a glance ahead. His master was rooting through an old chest, oblivious to much else, if he wanted to act, well, there probably wasn't going to be a better time. He padded back up the hall, towards the approaching steps and found-
"You!" Roger's legs nearly buckled when he scented her, before he could even fully see her, but it was definitely- what
was her name? Question for later, he supposed. "Look- I've thought about what you told me," he said before she could get a word out. "I... I don't... entirely know where I stand on all of it, but I've thought back on some things and can at least agree that my master is doing something I don't want to be part of. So... uh..." Roger glanced back, ears drooping, he... hadn't really thought this through, had he? "Do whatever you're going to do, I guess... what's your name, anyway?"
"Cryptkeeper," she replied, stepping forward, her expression unreadable. "And thank you. I'm sorry for last time- and if you want to stay out of the worst of this, I suggest you get up top now."
Roger didn't get a clear view of what happened next, but he heard plenty, as he scurried out of the cellar and into the stinging rain. An explosion of barking, his master shouting and racing up after Crypt, only to be surrounded by another three dogs... and shortly after that, apprehended by a tall human all dressed in black, who led her away.
Roger's former owner had spent many years breaking into abandoned buildings, including several mausoleums and other such burial places, raiding them for any potential goods to sell. Her antics had recently crossed into entering protected lands- such as the old growth forest of Misty Oak preserve. She was apprehended by resident ranger Sidney Shepard, and work began on tracking and recovering the goods that had been sold over the years, as more than a few were works of known local artisans or held other historical value.
As for Roger himself? He followed Crypt's pack home, and found himself placed under temporary care with Sid until more permanent arrangements could be found. Despite the rocky start the two had, Roger was eager to speak to her more and learn the history behind the old town. Crypt, meanwhile- she did apologize for her behavior during their initial meetings, both collies came to an understanding that it was a trying sort of situation, and that they could perhaps start over. They would revisit the town a few times, Roger's keen nose and natural knack for finding hidden things revealing things even Crypt had never found; while Crypt held him spellbound with her knowledge of the place, how it had grown up from mining and produced a number of artisans whose metalwork was unique to this place in their time, leaving the remnants that could be found highly sought after by collectors, descendants, and historical societies.
The two would become quite close... so it was a delight when Roger was formally adopted by Sidney into the larger Mistyoak pack- though with a small name change, when he started expressing some interest in breaking into competitive title work... 'Graverobber' does carry a certain gravity to it that he rather enjoys!(2576 words)
