The Miners' Tale

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The miners tale

The miner halted his relentless smashing of a mithril rock and took a deep draught of stout, he gazed down at the rocky outcrop, was the meager scratch he saw the only fruits of his long days effort?

'Clink' 'Clink!.... He had been mining ever since he could recall, his tough old hands brown and resistant as leather, cradled his rune pickaxe in their vice like grip, never had he been this long without liberating at least one ore from a rock - even this stubborn mithril outcrop he had come across a few years back, perhaps I'm losing my touch?

He thought about this.....no! he thought furiously, I will not be beaten by a mere rock! He couldn't stomach the thought of giving up mining! It was his life and only interest, seconded only by smithing.....

The finished off his flask of stout, stood up, lifted his pick high in the air and brought it down on the mithril rock, his pick seemed to shudder and then the rock shattered into a hundred pieces scattering mithril all over the swampy ground around him. He saw a small glint in the corner of his eye and walking over to a piece of debris picked up a diamond, the largest he had ever set eyes on......

He smiled smugly and pocketed it...losing my touch? What was I thinking!? And with that he swung his pick over his shoulder and strode off....