SOMETHING AKIN TO A PROLOUGE.
'The this that I hate most, is when something you think is one way, turns out the next. I thought that this damn place was bad, now i don't know what to say. It was the same damned story that happens to every one of these dwarves. Delusions of grandeur, loving rat bastard advertisers giving us misleading information. No use grumbling over it now, what's done has been done. I'm surprised that I fell for this stuff, after what my brother went through, rest his soul. We went to the ass-end of places, sweated like pigs, and received nought from our own people but words. I'm sick of words, they do nothing. They do not put sustenance into our starving bodies, they do not put liquid into the parched life, they do now mend the wounds or our scars, and they do not eradicated the evil that threatens us today.'
Urdin Tômas "Tom" looked up from his journal. The room was cold, with a chilling breeze emanating from under the door. The cracked stone wall oozed with slime, something he had to clean every few weeks. He grabbed the mug of wine, the blood red liquid sloshing out of the smooth stone interior. The journal was bound in leather, the motto "We need not fear what is known, only what is known," burnt into the cover. The paper was a finely made pig-tail parchment. His pen, a stylus of stone dipped into blue dye, was made with care and precision. Papers of his sketches and poems lay strew across his table. The walls of his room were engraved this images of dwarves fighting, monsters laughing, and the ever-present depiction of blood. His table, which was made of the finest obsidian, had a dull luster and was the only that that shone in Agedale. The only thing that shone but the gleaming obsidian swords of the military.
FIRST CHAPTER - ARRIVAL.
Tom looked at the vast open plain. He had never seen such land as this, nor had he ever felt such a strong breeze flow through his beard. He was born, raised, and learned in the Mountainhomes, and had never seen the light blue sky until 3 years ago, when it was his age to venture out and delve "secure lodgings" into some hunk of rock. The journey had taken three years, and the entire wagon train- save his- perished in the journey. He himself had almost lost hope. But we were here, and as was the tradition, we would settle down, live a happy life for about 3 years, and die in the most excruciating way possible. He led the wagon, which was pulled by a horse and a mule, down the gently sloping hill. The river proved a challenge, but they managed to get over it without losing but one dwarf. Death was a daily occurrence by that time. When they first settled in, they were amazed at the fact that nobody died. Tom, a miner, knelt down and kissed the ground, and said a silent prayer to ók, his deity. He chose the spot- right next to the magma pit, a nearly bottomless pit of heat and molten stone. The reason for settling here- the magma. This was going to be the forefront of industry for the dwarves. He nodded to his close friend, Vabok, and started delving into the earth.
A month later, they had carved a nice little hole for themselves. It was a few bedrooms, two crafting areas, and a farm. Life, so far, was alright. Tom passed the days by dallying off, completing the work that was assigned to him by the overseer, Rith. The stone, however hard, gave way to their copper picks with due time. The stone was then hauled to anywhere and everywhere. They each got a room, and life continued, and continued. All that continued until he heard the overseer talk.
"Listen Tom, I uh, need to talk to ye about something," Rith said.
"Huh?"
"Yeah, it's that the caravan is going to be forgetin' pissed off when they come here, aaaand the reason is because we haven't made anything particularly useful or pretty."
"So, is it my damn fault?"
"No, it's jus' that everyone seems to be as bored as hell here, and, well, you're going to have to dig deeper."
"Oh. Just say so."
"Yeah, but, be careful. It 'ad be a tragedy for you and Vabok to get melted from breaching th' magma chamber."
Tom nodded, and picked up his pick. He headed for where Vabok was standing, leaning against a rhyolite wall and drinking a mug of ale. The two miners knew each other well, and had learned the ins-and-outs of mining at the same quarry.
"Hey, Vabok, have a minute?"
"Yeah, sure"
"The man wants us to dig deeper."
"No probl'm."
That was the end of it.
