Background / Teaser
Under the silver of a full moon, the scrapes of metal against stone drifted between the headstones. The hunched figures, facial features a specular orange from the intermittent cigarette glow, turned their attention for the wrong reason to the grave they'd been seeking. Huddled over the manhole, we might have well have been midgets, blackjacks and sacks at the ready, for battling trolls and disturbing the dead. We clambered down the twisting shaft, swathed in the cool musty atmosphere. We were in the hidden tunnels below a cemetery.

Unsuprisingly, messing around under cemeteries is serious business. For starters, it's a lot harder to make a skull and crossbones than those pirates would lead you to believe.
For seconds, thirds, and fourths - in the eyes of the law, messing around here is the same as (the admittedly cool sounding, but somewhat severe crime of) grave robbing. And boy, for the local witch whipping up a potion requiring the tip of tibia or creme of cranium, this is the place. You see, as much as armchair explorers / idiots love to debate the issue, this isn't the catacombs. This isn't an ancient mass grave. For France, the practice of, most times quite literally, dumping bodies underground is fairly normal. Dying in France affords you the rights to a plot of 50 years. If your family doesn't cough up the renewal, and you're having troubles with WormPost™ to get the payment out on time, you'll be exhumed, still clutching your cheque, most of your hair, and dressed in your sunday best. From here, you'll either be cremated, or wrapped in clingwrap, and tossed underground. Years later, your bones will probably be playing alphabet soup with a strangers in long passages full to the brim with your equally unfortunate peers, or your head might be lucky enough to score some prime real-estate lining the walls.

And so it was, we sat underground, up to our ankles in 'mud', surrounded by legions of the dead, listening to Dire Straits - Sultans of Swing, and smoking cheap cigarettes, only to emerge a few hours later, thoroughly grimey, and unashamedly content with the evening's foray.

This entry is a work in progress - expect updates soon enough - but I couldn't help but post it, even if it is to stir up the beehive of exploration forums..