1 Death of a Black smith

I lived in a border town as a blacksmith. I inherited my forge from my father. I crafted many a blade and armor for adventures. Our town had developed around a dungeon. Our town was moderately wealthy.

Then the dungeon was cleared and clasped. A neighboring country dug into the dungeon and destroyed the core. Many dungeons wear infiltrated and cleared to stifle the wealth of the country.

Many left the town immediately after the collapse. Slowly the town emptied. Homes and stores became dilapidated. The town became a mining town afterword. The ore left from the dungeon was low quality. mostly iron and copper.

The towns future was bleak but we strived forward. Eventually the future brightened. Silver. Nothing incredible but still worth more than either iron or copper. The deeper the mine got the bright the future became.

(Crack, crumble) a wall gave way in the mine to part of the dungeon. parts of dungeons surviving is not uncommon, but it is nothing more than a lifeless ruin. Anything living or other wise would starve or run dry and rot.

I entered first. i had experience in the dungeon when i was young. I freeze, my blood running cold. In the corner of my vision a tall figure stands motionless an arms length beside me. turning slowly i raise my pick. The men behind me cast light on us. I release a sigh of relief. A Wood golem stands lifeless gathering dust.

The Golems managed this dungeon. Clearing obstructions and disposing of corpses, setting traps. not all dungeons operate as mundane as this. The dungeon is remarkably intact with plenty left to gain. usually the dungeon is cleaned of anything of worth before destroying the core. It seems the foreigners were in a rush.

We found the corpse pit. A mass of bones in armor. the smell of decaying leather and stagnate water permeate the air. luck the remains rotted faster. I don't think I would survive the smell. I dislike rummaging through the belongings of the dead, but my fellow miners don't seem to mind. One miner exclaims that the foreigners got their just deserts.

I walk over and peer around the room. Many foreign armors decorate the pit. for the second time my blood runs cold. their are to many corpses. we didn't see a single living thing on the way down and neither a corpse. I make a dash for the exit bone and metal ring underfoot as i screaming to run. As if triggered by the word, the exit to the pit collapses over my head. 3 men made it out one mans arm is pinched in the rubble and I'm being pressed to death.

He's a friend and were stuck face to face. they try to clear the rubble and I glare at them. They know what to to. One of the men raises a sword from the pit above his head swings with all his might. A Deafening scream rings in the passage. The two men flee carrying him. All the while i can hear the clang of metal against the stone on my back.

I can hear flames flickering and their getting closer. A mess of wood falls in the pit a ablaze. some vaguely resemble men burning. Muffled screams sound through the rubble. the screams die out and the stone is hot. Luck y can't feel my legs anymore. Ruble clatters to the floor smoke and the sound of the flames flood the passage. I choke on the smoke and abruptly I'm thrown from the rubble into the flames and i see it. a golem. a wooden golem smoldering. the light in its eye fading as i runs dry of mana. a last attempt to fuel the core.