Soul Harvest Prompt:

„One dwarven spirit appears to you from a blackened Soul Vine in the Earthen Furnace. They seem to wish to speak to you, but they can only moan two words before they disappear into steam again: The Forge? The Forge?“

Dungeon Dive Prompt:

„With a deafening buzz, a cloud of cave bugs flies in your face! AHHH! How did you disturb the swarm? What do you do now?“

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Nero could feel how the massive shiver, that creeped up his spine, shook his entire hindquarters as the dwarven spirit dragged itself out oft he shadows. It didn’t match the descriptions of the proud dwarven folk which Nero had found in some old scrolls. No. It looked like a decayed remnant of what was once a warrior. Parts of armor were still there, hanging loosely on the otherwise haggard carcass. The spirit made one weak step into the stallion’s direction, a hoarse moan escaping ist bare jaw. It didn’t seem to be aggressive, but rather… helpless?!

Once the initial shock had worn off, Nero took a moment to eye the spirit. He couldn’t help but feeling kind of sorry – the spirit looked like it had been through quite some misery.

„Hello… My name is Nero. I didn’t mean to disturb your slumber. In case I have, I want to apologize.“, he said quietly and lowered his head a bit as a sign of peace. The least thing he needed now was an angry spirit. Who knew what could happen, if the figure in front of him felt threatent. Nero didn’t want to find out, that was for sure. 

“The Forge…”, the dwarfen spirit suddenly muttered. 

“What? What Forge?”, Nero asked, too surprised to be concerned about the fact that he was talking to a ghost. 

“The Forge?”, the spirit repeated and raised its hands as if it was reaching out for help. Suddenly its pale contours began to fade, it staggered for a moment and with a pained groan it dissolved into patches of glimmering fog until it was completely gone. 

“Hey, wait! Wait! What Forge were you talking about?”, Nero called, louder than intended, and flinched as his voice echoed through the dark hall. 

Nothing. The spirit was gone and even after a few minutes of watching out for signs of another appearance, Nero found him self alone again. Was the spirit trying to warn him? Was it asking for help? The bay stallion had absolutely no idea and a Forge was definitely nothing he had heard about in this area before. But who knew, the dungeons were popular for holding a wide array of surprises and hidden pieces of the past. 

“Let’s have a look what’s down there…”, Nero mumbled to himself and followed the thick patches of vines that led deeper into the gloomy hall. The few torches were barely able to light the walls they were hanging on and the stallion had to squint his eyes in an attempt to figure out some details in front of him. 

The blackened vines wound their way up some stony pillars and as Nero ducked his head to pass underneath some dangling twigs, something squishy hit his face and fell to the ground. Before he even knew what that thing was, a loud buzz ripped through the silence and a swarm of angered cave bugs flew up, right into Neros face. 

“What the-” The Courser instinctively jumped back, shaking his head repeatedly as he tried to fight off those pesky insects. It must have been their nest which he accidentally knocked off the branch. 

“Get off of me!”, he growled, still backing off and trying to avoid the bugs stinging bites with erratic movements. The bugs were horribly persistent though and so he turned on his heels and made a few bucking jumps. He fell into a fast paced trott, right down the way where he had come from. The further he got away from the hall, the more bugs ceased their attacks and by the time he reached the dungeon’s entrance, only a few still clung to his face. The bites sent an itching pain through his skin and he couldn’t wait to soothe it with a bucked of very, very cold water. 

“I’m sorry, dwarven spirit!”, he breathed through clenched teeth. “Your Forge will have to wait a bit!”