No Loot, Just Leyrunit

The gemstone atop Marcus’ staff cast flickering light over the damp, cobweb-draped walls as Bromor trudged ahead.

The dwarf seemed to know every stone, rapping here and there on the rock, or thumping his boots on patches of ground in front of them.

“Don’t touch that white fuzz there. Burns like fire if it gets on your skin. But this here…” He pointed at a small, thick-stemmed growth with gray speckles dangling right above Marcus’s hat. “…you can eat that. Tastes awful, but it’ll keep you alive.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Wow… you really know your way around down here.”

Bromor grinned wide, his beard bobbing. “’Course I do! We dwarves live under the earth, after all.”

“…and what are you doing in this death-cave in particular, then?”

The dwarf snorted. “Simple. I hail from Iron Maw, our capital. Since most of the resources there have already been mined out, every dwarf is called upon to open new sources. Our halls need metal, stone, and above all… Leyrunit.”

“Ley-… what?” Marcus squinted at him, puzzled.

“Leyrunit. Magical ore. Strong as iron, blue as the ocean, and without it nothing in our place runs. We build devices, vehicles, constructs; everything needs Leyrunit to operate.”

Marcus’s eyes lit up. “You've got vehicles?”

Bromor laughed. “Fast as the wind! Some thunder through the halls so loud the ground shakes. You should see the races in our arena, there’s nothing better!”

Marcus started grinning like a kid who’d just had a brilliant idea. “Oh, then you’ve gotta see my buddy Gus’s Golf. It’ll blow your beard off!”

Bromor frowned. “Golf?”

Marcus waved it off. “Ah, I’ll show you once we’re out of here.”

Bromor was still grumbling to himself when Marcus suddenly slowed, his thoughts growing heavy.

“Listen, Bromor…” He swallowed. “That buddy of mine, Gus… we got separated. He’s out there somewhere, and I’ve got a really bad feeling. I need to get back to him on the surface, as fast as possible.”

The dwarf stopped, set a hand on the haft of his axe, and studied Marcus with a grave expression, then he gave a short nod.

“You saved my life. I owe you that much. I’ll get you out, and help you find your mate.”

Marcus’s eyes shone.

“You’d do that? Thanks, man! I’ll conjure you as much beer as you want!”

The dwarf burst into roaring laughter. “I’ll hold you to that, count on it, lad!”

They marched on through narrow tunnels whose walls gleamed in the shimmer of the crystal. 

At last the path ended at a massive stone wall.

“Dead end?” Marcus’s voice sounded uneasy.

Bromor tapped the rock appraisingly, pressed his ear to it, grunted in satisfaction, then hefted his axe.

With a mighty blow the iron crashed into stone.

A rumbling crack echoed; the rock split open, and a hole yawned in the wall. A cool draft brushed Marcus’s skin.

Beyond the opening lay a vast hall.

Columns of ancient stone rose high, coated with moss and shimmering crystals that glinted dully in the amber light of his staff.

Marcus stepped in, hesitant, every footfall echoing like in a cathedral.

“Dude… this is…”

Bromor stopped beside him, the axe slung casually over his shoulder, and grinned beneath his dust-caked beard.

“…a dungeon. Ancient halls. Mystical places that were here even before we dwarves started digging tunnels.”

Marcus slowly turned in a circle, letting his gaze drift over the age-old walls.

A shiver of awe and fear in equal measure ran down his spine.

“For centuries, few have set foot in places like these,” Bromor murmured reverently. “And this is exactly what I’ve been looking for. If it can be opened up, and if there are deposits nearby, one can rise to a living legend among dwarves: a Mountain King!”

Marcus let out a whistle that chased itself as an echo through the mighty halls.

“Badass! … And what the hell is that again...?”

Bromor spread his hands, indicating everything around them.

“Ruling, lad! Over your own colony, free and independent, answering only to the King of Iron Maw. Every dwarf dreams of it from the moment they can speak!”

Marcus nodded sagely, pretending he totally understood, though his blank stare said otherwise. 

He gave Bromor a friendly clap on the shoulder.

“Well then, my friend, here’s hoping this turns out to be a jackpot for you, yeah?”

And so they stomped off with wide, curious eyes, eager for whatever awaited them.

They soon lost themselves in the endless corridors, and pressed deeper into the shadows.

At one point Marcus watched Bromor scatter a swarm of giant rats with a roaring sweep of his axe, as if they were nothing more than vermin.

Another time they edged along an abyss, bottomless darkness yawning beneath, while above them gigantic stalactites loomed like daggers poised to fall.

In a narrow passage, phosphorescent mushrooms twinkled like distant stars; in the next lay only skeletons, ancient, still clutching rusty swords; silent witnesses to forgotten battles.

They crossed a spring, cold as ice, where Bromor drank and muttered, “That’s how the breath of the mountains tastes.”

Eventually they reached a staircase that seemed endless, spiraling up, their steps thudding dully on each riser.

At the top waited a gate of ancient stone, covered with strange glyphs, sprawling over its surface.

They pushed it open, and beyond lay a circular chamber, bare and empty.

No monster. No treasure. No trap.

Only in the center: a raised, circular platform set into the floor, laced with fine lines like veins carved into the stone.

“Looks suspiciously like a boss room…” Marcus muttered, the staff trembling in his hand.

Bromor frowned, not understanding a word Marcus said.

At last they stepped onto the platform.

A hum rippled through the air, deep and resonant, as if the walls themselves had begun to sing.

The lines in the stone flared, a cold white light spiraling around them.

“Uh… Bromor?” Marcus looked around, panicking.

But the light was already coiling tighter, and for a heartbeat their outlines shattered into glittering shards.

Blinking their eyes open, they found themselves in an immense chamber.

Walls, floor, ceiling; everything was shot through with shimmering blue, like a sea grotto reflecting the ocean.

Not just veins, but entire planes and clefts and stalagmites lit the dark in a blueish light.

Bromor’s breath caught; his eyes shone as if a dwarven life’s dream had come true.

“By my beard… this is… the largest deposit I’ve ever seen…”

Marcus turned slowly in place, dazzled by the splendor.

“Whoa… is that… mithril?”

Bromor froze, then slowly turned his head with a look of pure betrayal.

“Mithril? What in the ancestors names is that supposed to be? This is Leyrunit! I’ve been talking about it the entire damn time, were you asleep on your feet? If we mine this, lad, we’ll be richer than the whole bloody elven kingdom!”

In Marcus’s head, an imaginary cash register went cha-ching.

He was just about to crack a joke when the ground vibrated beneath his feet, barely at first, then stronger, until dust rained from the ceiling.

“Uh… was that your stomach?” Marcus muttered.

A dull crack echoed through the hall and fissures crawled across the walls.

From the central wall the rock sloughed away, stones sliding aside, and slowly a figure rose from it: massive, over three meters tall, a body of stone laced with smoldering Leyrunit veins and two eyes blazing bright blue.

Its head jerked, rock scraping on rock, and with a thunderous step it started forward.

Marcus stared, the staff trembling in his hands. “So it is a boss fight, I knew it! And of course it had to be the kind with a damn teleporter!”

The golem raised its arm and brought it down on them with the force of a hammer.

Bromor dove aside and rolled.

Marcus flung up his staff and bellowed a spell:

“Uhm... FOAM... BEAM, Go!”

A surge of golden droplets blasted out, struck the stone arm, and just bounced off harmlessly.

Marcus stumbled back, pressing himself against the wall. “…yeah, that did jack shit...”

“He’s made of Leyrunit…” Bromor panted, hauling himself up. “That makes him strong, and almost invulnerable to magic!”

“Oh, wonderful! I’ll get so much done with my fucking MAGIC STAFF!!”

“Shut up and move!” Bromor roared, charging with his axe.

The blade swept down, clanged off the golem’s massive arm, and sprang back in a shower of sparks.

The dwarf growled and shook his hand as if it had burned. “Damn hard stuff…”

The golem slammed its next blow into the floor. The whole hall shuddered, and Marcus was knocked off his feet, crashing hard onto his side.

Bromor leapt onto a rocky ledge, dodging the next swing by a hair.

“There’s only one thing that works, we have to hit the core!”

Marcus staggered upright. “And where is that?”

Bromor pointed with his axe at the giant’s chest, where, between Leyrunit veins, a pulsing light glowed.

“Keep it busy!” Bromor’s voice boomed. “I’ll handle the rest!”

Marcus scrambled to his feet, flailing with the staff.

“He’s already only going for me! Do I look like a tank!?”

He hurled projectiles of hops that splattered pathetically against the golem’s chest, prompting it to raise both arms for a crushing double strike.

“Ohshitohshitohshit!” Marcus yelped and threw himself sideways at the last moment.

The fist smashed down where he’d just been standing; stone burst and shards rained over him.

“Do something, fast, or I’m paste!!!”

Finally, with a primal roar the dwarf launched himself off the ledge, axe high overhead.

For a heartbeat time seemed to freeze, then the iron crashed down exactly where the pulsing light was.

“TAKE THAT, YOU CHUNK OF ROCK!” Bromor bellowed, swinging the axe, and with a merciless blow he split the core in two.

The golem went rigid, then collapsed in on itself with a crash, its Leyrunit veins going dark.

Marcus coughed and stared at the shattered remains. “…Holy fuck… was that my first real boss fight just now?”

Bromor wiped the sweat from his brow, his axe still steaming.

Then he grinned broadly, beard quivering with laughter. “No idea what you’re on about, lad, but you fought bravely!”

Marcus smiled proudly, still staring at the golem’s smoking remains.

“So… do we get loot now? A treasure chest? Anything?”

Bromor grunted, shouldered his axe, and shook his head. “Loot? You’re not taking anything from that chunk. Leyrunit isn’t something you just stuff in your pocket. You need pickaxes, smelters, whole teams. I’ll map the entrance and come back with an expedition. You don’t open up a dungeon like this alone. But it’s a start.”

Marcus sighed in disappointment and looked at his staff as if a reward might still pop out somewhere. “Shame. Would’ve been cool to snag a second power-up.”

Bromor snorted a laugh, then lifted his gaze. “Come on. We’ll take the teleporter back.”

They stepped onto the platform again. A soft hum rose, the lines in the stone glowed, and they were back in the circular chamber.

But this time, a door opened at the far end of the room that hadn’t been there before.

Behind it, steps wound steeply upward.

Marcus blinked. “Looks like the path leads on toward the surface.”

Bromor hefted his axe and nodded solemnly. “Then let’s go. Let’s get out of here… and find your buddy first.”

Marcus nodded, and together they took their first steps up.