Prologue

Woah, chill out, man! Where are you running off too? It’s nighttime! Everyone’s already gone to bed. It’s getting really cold outside and winter is on its way. Drink your morelbeer. It’s on me, my dear adventurer. Drink up, you! It’s good for you. I mean, we’ll see what your head says tomorrow morning but... ha ha. Sit. Listen to what I am going to tell you. Don’t worry, that Chasm of yours isn’t going to disappear in a night.

The old goblin starts to smoke a long pipe and begins

North from Goldenfall, beyond the Snake forest and Erin river, lie the lands of the mighty dwarf king Garioth Silverbeard. The old dwarf is strong and powerful, and, according to the Gobla, filthy rich. The reason why he’s so loaded? The trading route from the Golden Forest straight to the capital of the dwarven kingdom — Diamond Stronghold. A city carved into a cliff, 177 levels deep. Maybe even deeper, who knows? Those dirty-bellied dwarfs are always hiding their secrets. And the second reason for the immense wealth? Silverbeard’s sons — Tory Ogrehand and Vorwund, often called “the bitch”. Although, nobody would ever dare to call him “the bitch” to his face, but, between us, he is a real bitch. Anyway, that’s not the point. One of them is a master of the hammer, and the other —  an amazing tradesman, but he also knows how to handle an axe pretty well. They are great travellers, but they also join the ranks in military campaigns. They would mainly rob and steal from the goblin clans, but not exclusively. That's how the dwarf king became so rich. Well, according to the Gobla anyway...

The goblin takes a big gulp, his Adam’s apple twitches under his wrinkled green skin.

But it isn’t all sunshine and rainbows in the dwarven kingdom. It has had its fair share of crap days as well. Once in late autumn, Silverbeard came with a large convoy and escorts from the Golden forest. Eternal peace was signed between the elves and the greasybeards. They say that the dwarfs drank alongside the pointy ears all summer. After the autumn festivities, they brought home with them fragrant orc cheese, our own goblin morelbeer, ogre sausage from the very heart of the Blackwood, barrels of Tenegrad’s finest summer wine, as well as cloths and grasses and many other things which were exchanged for knives, axes, swords, armour, gemstones, and etc. The convoy was completely full. The whole summer they were trading, and the autumn too. There were plenty of guards as well. Probably about two hundred dwarfs or so. No less, so the Gobla say.

The goblin inhales and then exhales a cloud of smoke, coughs coarsely and then pulls the comforter tighter around him.

Then it started to get dark, so they decided to stay for the night. They built campfires, hobbled their horses, and then a blinding beam of light raced across the sky and fell with an immense bang nearby leaving a fiery trail behind itself. The dwarfs were startled and pelted towards it quickly, finding themselves standing next to the openings of an enormous Pit. The trees surrounding the pit were broken while others were on fire. And in that pit, there was nothing but insatiable darkness. But every once in a while, something was seen to be glowing. Before Silverbeard could even say a word, his eldest son Tory wrapped a piece of rope around a large boulder by the edge of the pit, grabbed a torch and descended. His closest and dearest guard went with him. An hour passed, then another “Pull it up! Pull it up, my dwarf brothers, I have a present for you!” Tory shouted. Silverbeard peered into the pit and gasped. Far down below he thought he saw the distant light of a torch, but his eyes just tricked him. Tory had descended deep into the pit. Using all their strength the dwarves pulled on the rope and started to bring up bizarre looking bags and chests. Some were filled with gold, others with outlandish glowing weapons. Silverbeard was shook. He had never seen treasures such as these!

The goblin leans closer to the fire, takes a stick with cooked pieces of meat on it, brings it up to his mouth, takes a deep sniff, and sinks his old yellow teeth into it. The hot grease runs down his long chin. He chews and then continues.

The morning came. They shot boars and other wild game, cooked it on campfires and pitched up their tents. However, Tory had still not surfaced and there was no signal from him either. The dwarfs brought new ropes and threw them into the pit. Everyone was waiting. A day passed, then another. On the third day, Silverbeard ordered that his war armour be brought to him. The armour was incredibly delicate and encrusted with diamonds. You couldn’t have put a price on it. Furthermore, his enchanted shield Bezmetuz from the enchanted rock crystal, and his sword nicknamed Trollenhorn was also diamond encrusted. A lot of goblin blood has been spilled by that sword. He gathered almost all of the dwarfs and left only Vorwund and a few drunkards and rejects to guard the camp and then he descended down in order to retrieve his eldest son and the treasure. Vorwund tried to stop him, but there was no point. If Silverbeard plans on doing something, you best be sure that he is going to do it. No one will convince him otherwise. A day passed, then another, then a week, then a fortnight. Nobody came up from the pit. No matter how hard Vorwund shouted, no matter how hard he pulled on the rope, no matter how many torches he threw down... nothing. And then one night there was a tremendous roar, so they went to the edge of the pit. An unearthly purple light was streaming out of it and then the Chasm started to form, right on the edge of the dwarven lands. The dwarfs had only just recovered from all the noise and ruckus when skeletons and other hideous undead creatures started to pour out of it. Monsters, which no one in Eridan had ever seen and which are only ever mentioned in fairy tales and ancient folios. The dwarfs fought and fought, and by some miracle that only those dirty beards could ever wangle, the dwarfs managed to fight them off. They erected fences and barricades. Vorwund sent messengers to the nearest bordering dwarven forts and shortly afterwards, also sent Black Legion squads. The stonemasons arrived and started to build a fort. And then the adventurers came. Some went down the Chasm and came back with treasure, others were never to be seen again. With great grief, Vorwund set off home to the Diamond Stronghold. He rallied the dwarves in the Hall of Oaths and declared that the person who saves his family or even returns his royal regalia, will be given all of the treasures of the dwarven kingdom. Down to the very last coin. He went back to the Chasm. Mercenaries, adventurers and other nomads quickly followed suit. Now, it’s down to enthusiasts to solve the mystery of this bloody Chasm. So, I came here and opened this hotel with my brothers. My name's Shoo by the way. Hey! Man, what are you doing? I told you to drink in moderation! Ah, oh well. The less you drink, the more life stinks, that's what the Gobla say.

He carefully leans over the sleeping adventurer. The flames of the fire are reflected on the long curved sword under the goblins cloak. *wheezing gurgle*