"Torin..."
"Torin..!"
"TORIN RUN!"
I gasp awake in a cold sweat as I begin frantically pushing through the darkness. My breath became shallow and panicked while my heart started beating out of my chest. My legs kicking as much as it could and my hands reaching out for something, anything. My body refusing to listen as it speeds through this dreadful atmosphere. Dashing through what seemed to be hands reaching out from the fog. As panic settles within my person, I simply closed my eyes and continued running. All I could hear were whispers. All I could feel was the cold.
Soon, my foot catches on to something and before I could even react, my head strikes the wood. The pain jolting me awake as a loud thud echoes across the room.
I felt a sharp pang as I was left panting. Feeling the cold sweat on my back as my mind lingers on the paralyzing feeling not too long ago. How I couldn't do anything. How helpless I was. The feeling still fresh on my mind. My hands, still quivering under the sickening feeling of dread that still looms over.
Slowly, my senses were coming back in waves; the faint scent of herbs drifts by, catching my attention as I turn towards the windowsill where I saw a familiar collection strung up from behind the curtains. The cloth swaying lightly against a soft breeze whilst it covers rays of light pouring in from the morning sun.
I slump down, sinking into the hay matting of my bed, my arm resting against my forehead as I stared at the dusty ceiling -- the same room I had well-known since I was young came into view. I had been in my room the entire time. I was out of the danger. I was safe.
This realization made me sigh in relief.
I stretched my arms as I walked towards the window, leaning against the ledge. Peeking out, I could see the liveliness of the village and the fields of varying crop that encircle it. Seconds passed and I could feel the calm beginning to settle. My breathing steadying as I continued to stare outwards, slowly losing myself into my own thoughts...that was until someone had burst through the door, accompanied by a thunderous roar.
"TORIN VALEN, GET UP YOU BIG POT OF ROCK!!!"
I instinctually turn to face the man right before striking my head at the side of the window. Yet another throbbing pain to worry about.
"I'm already up." I spoke out, pulling myself back inside as I rubbed the side of my head. I sat back down on to the bed, causing it to creak as I stared at the man stood by the doorway.
Looking over, the man was lean and despite the greying strands of hair at the sides of his head, he still looked quite young. He had kept his dirty rusted colored hair in a ponytail while the rest of his upper body was covered in a dirty green cloak with a bow slung over his shoulder. He is my father, Thaddeus Valen.
"Just because you are larger than me, doesn't mean you get to talk to me that way y'hear?" He replies with arms crossed.
"Sorry dad. Just don't do that again please?" I say as I relaxed my arms, the pain slowly subsiding.
"Look at you. Growing up and already getting an attitude. Thought I raised you better than that." He grunts, but couldn't help and grow a smile at this interaction. He'd let out a soft chuckle before turning to the family portrait hanging over my bed. "If she'd be here, she'd tell you how weird it'd be seeing a mix of her species with my attitude." He added.
Turning to the painting myself, I'd see a familiar sight I look towards every day and every night. My human father, beaming with a wide smile and teary eyes, holding a baby swaddled in cloth while standing next to a Goliath woman. Standing much taller than he did, dressed in a large leather tunic that covers her whole body up until the upper portion of her knees, which were covered in thick leather pads and hide strapped together with crude strips of leather and cloth. Dark slate covers the back of her hand, which crept up to the edges of her arms and along her shoulders, ending at sharp extensions along her jawline.
As we stare at this picture, the room falls silent with only the ambience of the town outside pouring into the room. However, I break this silence to bring myself into reality before tapping my father's cheek with my finger. "Come dad, we have work to do."
With that said, he sighs before cutting it off with hearty chuckles as he nods, turning towards me with renewed confidence. "Yeah, bet Master Dwarf is going to be so angry with you now that you're this late."
It was then the chill ran down my spine before I started to stumble over to get dressed and grab at least a small bite to eat. Bounding towards the kitchen to grab a couple loaves of bread as I burst through the door and start speeding down the streets.
"Careful boy! You'll trip and choke!" My father yells as he stands by the door way, turning over to notice that the hinges may have broken off from my rush outside. I might have a talking to when I get back home...that is if I survive Master Kithran's scolding.
Moving down the streets, I look towards the scene around me. It is quite solemn living here in the Village of Greystone. There's no specific landmark that notes it to be a special place to live apart from Master Kithran's blacksmith and mines. It is a pretty humble and quiet place on the outskirts of House Verdant's borders. A noble district that specializes itself on cultivating the land and its inhabitants. Let it be Agriculture or Animal Husbandry. That is the main reason why Master Kithran's mines are pretty small with only a handful of workers for the basic production of tools and equipment while the rest of the village is focused more on producing crops for the kingdom.
I would have loved to help mostly around the farms but due to my strength, Master Kithran insisted I'd be under his care. Not that I minded, the master has some interesting stories to tell along with his insightful teachings on smithing and mining.
As I moved up the hill, I can already hear the gruff deep voice of an angry dwarf cussing out his workers in dwarvish. Most people would think he's abusing his employees but to us miners and smiths, its Master's way of showing love. Like banter in a more vulgar way.
Cresting the hill, I lay my eyes upon the forge and mine. The forge itself is a massive workshop created out of the stone from the mountain it was dug into. The sound of metal crashing against itself would echo in it's halls day and night. It almost sounds like a rhythmic song if you get used to the sound. Although it is a very beautiful sight to behold, some of the village kids did call this place a "Dragon's Den" due to the blackstone that it's built out of and the glow of the flames within the furnaces that causes it to echo out a small roar from under the ringing orchestra of metal.
My sightseeing was stopped short though as I feel the searing hot pain of a punch shooting straight into my leg. As I flinch from the hit and slightly bend a knee to it, Master Kithran laughs. This muscle heavy dwarf of pretty decent age with ruffled and messy beard and hair stands in front of me. He cleans up his soot covered thick leather glove on his equally as dirty apron before he lets out a cheeky smile as he shoulders a massive pickaxe, bigger than normal pickaxes used by Dwarves and Humans. "As big as a boulder, as soft as a cracker! Bwahahaha! You're late Stoneskin" He adds as he easily moves the pickaxe, lending it to me.
"Sorry Master, I overslept."
"I can see that, now come, the softies 'ave found something you might needa hand on it." He threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing over to the huge stone archway that leads into a well lit tunnel towards an underground quarry deep within the mine. With that said, I started moving towards said entrance and down the colder, more quiet parts of the mountain deep within the quarry.
Inside was a sight to behold every time anyone would brave the dark. This is a wide open space created by natural occurrence with ores lining the walls.
Torches and the occasional enchanted lanterns also light up whatever they could within the mine. The rattling of minecarts grinding against the metallic rails as well as the rolling of broken up stone debris and pickaxes smashing against rock echo among the dusty cold interior of the space. Some carts sit still, awaiting their stores of ore to fill up before riding back to the forge.
Deeper down was even more of a surprise as plants- not even fungus- live and thrive down in these parts. As if there was a source of life deep within these caves. Along with these strange plants are also crystals. More specifically Frozen Primal. Master Kithran always said to leave them alone, unless we wished to disturb the sanctity of the caves. This is due to the belief that they house the Primal Source of Enesial, the magical origin of Earthen Magic and it is the reason why these walls grow rich with ore.
Further down the mines, the sound of picks against stone becomes louder as I come closer to the deepest we've gone yet and by the end of the dark hallway stands a crowd of fellow miners. Master Kithran yells at them to move, parting the ocean of miners with ease to reveal a couple of miners I know like brothers at this point, Oscar and Micah. Both human yet both have the equal spark of passion as the Master and I.
They swing their pickaxes as hard as they could, smashing against the strange stone that covers this wall before an energy envelops the strike points, bursting back outward thus pushing both of them away, causing Oscar to tumble into the dirt floor and Micah to hit a group of miners standing to the side of the mine.
"Fuckin thing ain't budging boss." Oscar moans as he sits upright, rubbing a palm against the back of his head.
"We've been at this for hours." Micah whines, staring at the broken pickaxes that lay on the floor.
Master Kithran looks over at the wall as the energy dissipates from the surface before turning his attention at the pickaxes on the floor. He walks over and kneels, placing a finger at one of the shards that was once a pickaxe head. "OI GIANT!" He yells, as everyone immediately turns to me. He stands and throws the shard over to me.
As I catch the shard with my free hand, I instantly looked to observe the shard, wondering what was so special about a shattered piece of iron. That is until my eyes lay within the insides of the shard. Deep within the cracks and the core of the item itself, glows a familiar orange. An energy familiar to this place.
"No wonder you sad sacks of lards couldn't push though, this is Reinforced Enesian" The Master speaks as the crowd immediately starts talking amongst themselves, almost in discussion as to how they should approach this new obstacle.
Reinforced Enesian is a type of earth that has the Primal Source of Enesial rich within its make. It is said that only those with an intimate connection to Enesial Magic like Dwarven Elders and the Goliaths of the Mountains could part or even damage Reinforced Enesian. Even then, Master Kithran clarified that even with the connection to Enesial, the best they could do was move the earth as damaging it would be, and I quote, "Better to break Blackstone with a fork while blindfolded".
However, there is a way to bypass this type of stone...
"You remember what I taught? Or do I'ave to knock it back into that thick skull of yours?" The Master grunts as he takes a step back while I move closer to the wall. Both my hands now resting against the metallic handle of the pickaxe as my stance turns to a better position against the surface.
With an exhale, I can feel the warmth of energy building up within, flowing like it was my own blood. It slowly moves to envelop my hands, then my palms, then into the pickaxe itself. This pseudo-enchantment glows with the same color as the stone itself as it hums with focused magic. My hands feel heavy and my palms burn at the sheer heat that comes off from this practice. From a sharp exhale, I flex my arms and twist my body, swinging the pickaxe with all my might against the stone.
The pick meets the stone and the energy built within the tool moves to focus on that very same spot. Within a split second, the energy splits the shielding on the stone, popping it like a bubble before the magic pushes and pierces through the stone, crowing cracks and expanding like lighting on wood. In a flash, the wall explodes outwards, allowing access to this new zone.
However, from the aftermath, I was flown back. My back on the floor and my arms smoking from the raw power output. It no longer hurt as much unlike when I was young practicing this but the pain is still there.
As I lay flat against the floor, instinctively reaching over for my arms, the Master kneels next to my head before poking my forehead with the pommel of his pickaxe. "Still really sloppy and you used too much focus...But good work Stoneskin." He says with a smile as he stands and turns to the settling dust pointing his pickaxe. "Let's run it boys!"