The sun shines down on your back as you cover your eyes. You are surrounded by other men, women, and children, moving rocks around a large quarry while searching for precious metals and gems. The chill in the air is comforting as you think back on the summer months where you wondered if you would survive the day. You are wearing scraps of clothes that were given to you upon your arrival several years ago when you were sold into servitude. You are bound to land and unable to leave with several armed soldiers at the top of the quarry keeping a watchful eye on you and the rest of the slaves.

Your skin is rough and your hand are heavily callused. In your hands is a large, rusty pick that is barely held together by cloth binding and various adhesives. Your hair is greasy and your skin is filthy, all coming from years of not bathing and or having access to personal hygiene. All of the slaves possess a unique odor consisting of sweat, dirt, and dried blood. Your feet are sore, though you ignore it. After standing on your feet everyday for the past several years, you’ve become accustomed to the aches and pain associated with your job. Your only concern is to please your masters by providing service and remaining alive long enough to do it. Your position isn’t conducive to survival, thus everyday is a blessing.

You swing the pick down into the large rock at your feet, hoping to find a brightly shining stone that your masters could sell. Finding valuable always curried favor with the men who ran the mine. You met the master once upon your arrival when he inspected the carriage that you were transported in. He looked at you as if you were only property and he wouldn’t ever be able to pick you out in a crowd, but you do believe that he would care if you died. Replacing a hard-working slave was always something that took time. Several slaves would join the ranks every month and of each lot, only a few would survive for many years. The bulk of the slaves would die from various means, either from a rock crushing them or for misbehaving and the soldiers punishing them. No matter the crime, there was only one punishment: immediate death.

You are bound to the Turgraad Quarry, a very large quarry built into the ground near the Sariak River between the cities of Fierrak and Shorrek. Several large shelves are built into the land with very large holes for the slaves to dig that connect to one another, creating a ramp that leads from the entrance of the quarry at the top all the way to the bottom. The slope is very gradual, though many of the slaves struggle to push the hand carts up the slope to the top.

“Hey! You there! Get over here!” screams one of the soldiers from a nearby hole in the land. You turn and walk toward the soldier, looking on as several of your comrades are standing beside him. You stand in front of the soldier and look at him while holding onto your pickaxe. He turns and looks down the hole as one of the slaves comes out. It is quite warmer in the hole than it is on the surface, though your years in the quarry have prepared you for it. “We’ve found some hard stone down there. I think it’s obsidian and we can’t get it free. I need the lot of you to get in there and get that chunk of stone out of that hole.” He looks at you while motioning for you to travel into the hole. “Don’t come back without at least something to show for yourself!” he shouts while you walk past him into the hole.

The hole is just slightly taller than your head and you’ll have to crouch down to get a good swing of your pickaxe. As you reach the black stone, you admire the sheen that it possesses. The sun that shines in from the top of the hole reflects off of it and you catch yourself staring at it. “Hey! Get to swinging!” screams the soldier as he looks down the hole to see you and the rest of the slaves admiring the stone. You come back to, shaking your head and crouching down in one motion. You grip the pickaxe tightly before picking it up over your head and slamming it into the black stone. All of the slaves in the hole swing their axes simultaneously. The loud echo of metal slamming against stone fills the small hole where you are standing. The vibration of the pickaxe numbs your hands as you pull it back and prepare for another strike.

You slam the tip of the rusty pickaxe into the black stone again to the same effect with all those beside you doing the same. After hitting it for the second time, you examine the stone to see that you’ve barely made a scuff. It will take a few more strong hits to even get some dust off of this stone. It’s the hardest you have ever come across and the potentially the most valuable. You smile before pulling the pickaxe back again and slamming it, once again, into the stone. Everyone with you is feeling the same way, smiling and thinking about the epic reward that will be bestowed upon you for bringing up this valuable gem. Your masters would surely give you a few hours off to rest and recover for your hard work.

Once again, you drive the tip of the pickaxe into the stone slab, but this time to a different effect. A loud crunching noise fills the cavern as a crack has emerged in the stone. You pull your pickaxe back and examine the small opening in the stone. An odd, purple hue is coming from the inside of the newly formed crack. Around the crack, several small lines have formed from the impact of the various pickaxes. You look at the others with you, all of which are examining the crack, and nod. You line your pickaxe up with the crack and breathe slowly. You pull it back over your head and drive it down into the crack again, making a large mark. A bright purple light fills the cavern, blinding you and forcing you to close your eyes.

You breathe slowly, noticing a vast difference in the air you were breathing. The stuffy air of the small cavern had transformed into a very cold and chilly air. You open your eyes, startled by the new sensation of remarkably chilly air on your skin and in your lungs. You find yourself not inside the cavern anymore, but in a long hallway with black bricks on both sides and torches with purple flame illuminating the area. The floor beneath your feet is smooth and jet black, almost of the same material that you were driving your pickaxe into. The walls had definitive edges in the stones with a thin grout in between each piece.

You stand still and look around the area at your new surroundings, puzzled at how you could have arrived here. You never felt yourself move or your feet shift, so teleporting somewhere was not something you believed to be possible. You look down the long hallway, seeing it go for quite ways. On the right, you see a few small, closed stone doors spaced out a good ways apart. To your immediate right is one of those doors, though it is partially open where the others are closed. In the distance, you hear a very loud groan followed by the sound of footsteps. You look out to see a creature walking into view. After a few short seconds, the creature stops moving. He’s humanoid with the features of a human, though it appears as if he has a few extra features that you cannot make out in the darkness of the corridor. He points at you and lets out a blood curdling scream. You turn your body to the small opening in the door and place your hands on it, filling your eyes with a purple hue.

You find yourself on your knees in the cavern where the stone slab was, but a lot has changed in the few short moments since you cracked it open. Outside of the hole, you can see a bright orange hue filling the quarry. The soldier at the entrance to the cavernous hole is on his back, his skin appearing to be falling off of his body. You and the rest of those with you walk toward the end of the hole to find that the quarry is ablaze with the bodies of the slaves and soldiers serving as kinneling.

You move slowly to the edge of the cavern to find another slave on her back, though barely clinging to life. “Demons… “ she mutters while mustering just enough to strength to open her jaw. Her face is covered in thick blood and she has several holes and slices across her torso. Her head drops back down and her life leaves her body. You look down and mourn briefly. You weren’t close to her, but seeing life cease so violently and tragically has an effect on most people. You look up to see several creatures walking through the quarry, all carrying large two-handed swords and scythes. The creatures are humanoid and wearing thick armor, though the smoke from all of the fires is preventing you from getting a good luck at anything else.

While trying to make out what the creatures are, a large flash of light fills the area and a lightning bolt crashes into the ground. Your eyes are filled with a bright light and the world changes before your eyes again as everything immediately goes dark.

The Story Continues in Chapter 2: A Rescue of Sorts