Tunnel Graven

"He is graven, you will show him respect!" The younger miner was quite agitated.

"Peace. I intend no disrespect, but was is a graven?" The Tai-Lek, the harmony music of the spheres hummed, it really didn't speak, not like a creature made of matter would. It was surrounded by elaborate vases, but the creature was only the breeze contained within, and it spoke by humming its container.

"A graven is a miner whose taken so many shifts, their flesh begins to show signs of the places they've been." The older miner said, abandoning her silence. "Their limbs begin to show the color and texture of the rock caverns they've exploited. I am graven, holy ones." The elderly woman's tone was so grave, you thought she had just signed her own death warrant.

"Aaah." What followed sounded like a concerto for pagophone and hydrolauphone, the vases and bottles containing the visitors apparently holding oils and steam, which sometimes condensed.

"They are conversing in the mode of Autochton, young one." She instructed the younger one with her.

"You perceive much. We are here to hunt down corruption of the Great Maker's holy design, but you appear uncorrupted of mind, at least, if not afflicted in your flesh. We would bring you to a place of healing, the city of Harmegis, nearby, has many a great Champions, and at least two are famous for their capacity to heal this blight. Come with us, to the capital, to be healed, and you shall return."

"And abandon my status of graven?"

"No, and we are not the healers, nor can we promise they will heal you completely. But because you are true to the Great Maker, and have been for so many years, we will encode for you a token, attesting your service, in these dangerous tunnels, to all those that can read the Great Maker's words. None will disrespect one who has served 21250 shifts already."