2005-01-18: A Mystical Beginning

Global Edition

A Mystical Beginning

Author: Wilki the Scribe Published: January 18, 2005

There have been reports of a swarm of minor earthquakes in the Serpent's Spine Mountains, but the cause of these quakes is as of yet unknown...

He was tired. From his leathery, weather-beaten face to the ever present crook in his back, it was immediately apparent to those who cared to look – which, truth be told, wasn’t all that many - that this was a man who was no stranger to hard labor. A life spent searching for ore in the Serpent’s Spine Mountains tends to leave those who have chosen that life worn to the bone. Gerold Tiggins was no exception.

But tired as he was, now was not the time for rest. Not many things could get ol’ Tiggins excited these days. Maybe finding a valorite vein, perhaps. Not that he ever had, of course, but that might do it. But no, even precious valorite was out of his mind today, as he was totally preoccupied with the strange object he had found embedded deep in a rock formation in the depths of Despise. Two weeks ago, a small ground tremor caused a series of cave-ins in the deepest part of the dungeon. Digging his way through the jumbled pile of rocks, Tiggins found a newly exposed section of fresh rock. He was, to his knowledge, the only person to have been this far down since the tremor, and he hoped to capitalize on the newly uncovered treasure he had found.

Not that he was really educated enough to fully understand what he had found. Nor would fate be gracious enough to allow him the chance to figure it out.

For no sooner had Tiggins managed to chip away enough rock to uncover what was clearly a blade made of some exotic material - a blade engraved with mystical glowing symbols - than the sound of heavy footsteps in the darkness behind him reached his ears.

The end came fast.

Tiggins turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of an axe sweeping through the air, the light from his lantern glinting off its edge, just before it cut into his old, tired body. The last thing he saw before the darkness closed in was the face of the lizardman holding the axe. A face that had already forgotten Tiggins, and was staring beyond him in fascination at the Mystic Sword still half embedded in the dungeon wall.

Finally, Gerold Tiggins could get some rest.