A blacksmith living in a border town inherited a forge from his father. He Forged many a blade and armor for adventurers. The town was developed around a dungeon. The town was moderately wealthy, attracting folk from both sides of the border, some illegally crossing. If caught the foreign adventurers would be greatly punished for crossing borders illegally, as well as entering another organization's territory. A small part of the town's income came from heavily taxing illegal adventurers upon exiting the dungeon some more unfairly than others. some of the adventurers who didn't get the memo would leave the town naked and cuffed by the guard.
Trading equipment, provisions, and metals going in and coming from the dungeon was the main source of trade. large inns housed merchants and adventures alike. The forges maintained their equipment. Taverns sucked their purses dry. all was good in the town, prosperity was on the rise and the town was ready to expand.
Then the dungeon was cleared. A neighboring country broke in and destroyed the core. Its halls and rooms collapsed without warning killing and trapping adventurers. From the surface the ground seemed to sag, then sections of the town fell into the dungeon filling up empty spaces with debris. Merchants sued the town and adventured ran amock looking for their comrades. some unlucky towns folk were assaulted or killed by the distraught men and women who lost their friends, family, or wealth.
Many left the town immediately after the collapse expecting the coming fallout. It wasn't uncommon for a dungeon close to the border to be destroyed. many countries would seek any chance to deprive their neighbors of their wealth. Quickly the town emptied. some could not simply pick up and leave. Over time unused buildings became dilapidated. Soon The town became a simple mining town. The valuable ore and materials left in the dungeon were taken. The town could not stem the flow of people. The ore left was mostly low-quality copper and iron.
The town's folk eked out every foot of meager success. They sold the equipment and possessions of the deceased they dug up from collapsed buildings and halls that weren't raided. They exported cheap ore excavated from the dungeon. Then they found silver. Valuable enough to raise them from eking out a meager success.
with a crack and a tumble, the mine revealed an uncollapsed part of the dungeon. Portions of dungeons surviving are rare but are nothing more than lifeless ruins. Anything alive would suffocate starve and decay.
Our smith entered first having experienced the dungeon when looking for ore. He stiffens, his blood running cold. In the corner of his vision, a tall broad figure stands motionless a face length away. Raising his pick he preps to strike. The men behind cast torchlight on them. A Wood golem stands lifelessly gathering dust, looking as if it ran out of power a long time ago.
Golems roamed the dungeon. Clearing obstructions, disposing of corpses, and killing the occasional unlucky adventurer. The hall was remarkably intact, the golems likely maintained it for a short time after the core was destroyed. One side of the hall was completely inaccessible. On their side rubble had been removed. The blocked passage likely connects to the rest of the dungeon, the golem having tried to reconnect them.
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After breaking threw, no golems were seen on their way down. Then they found the corpse pit, a pile of bones and equipment the dungeon would break down for energy. The pit having not been emptied was filled with corpses. The flesh had long rotted away but the leather persisted soaking in stagnant water that had seeped into the pit.
The miners flooded into the pit to rummage through the corpses. Much of the armor came from foreign soldiers. A whole platoon's worth. As if all the foreign soldiers died here. Our blacksmith called out while running, it's a trap. Metal and bone clattered in a cacophony under the miner's fleeing feet. The exit collapsed crushing a few miners.
Our smith was trapped with his legs pinned in the rubble. A miner was pinned beside him unconscious, his arm was crushed. A sword came down severing it. He was carried on the backs of the escaping miners. Only three men escaped the pit. The trapped miners screamed pounding against the rubble. Their screams became muddled. Our smith could feel heat radiating through the rubble. He would have screamed if he still had feeling waist down.
Our smith was pale and sweating profusely. Small rocks and crushed stones rained down on his head. Mana trickled through the doorway lighting up the passage in a blue glow. A golem stood over him pulling the rubble in the doorway. The was visibly scorched, an arm burnt away from the elbow down.
The mana flowed into the golem and the passage faded to black. Hours seemed to pass and for our smith, his vision swayed and his body felt heavy as if he was trudging threw a flooded ship. All he could see were faint blue lines swaying in the darkness. The glow gradually got brighter and the threads more numerous. The glowing threads traced out a passage leading to an open space and gathered at the center.
A shriveled corpse in broken armor was leaning over a pedestal. An arm reached out and stood the corpse up. The glowing threads came from the corpse, a shattered core in its chest. The red insignia on the armor was barely identifiable. A foreign soldier. Its eyes lit up, and it grabbed the arm holding it up. The corpse spoke slowly, give me everything. The threads began to move into the core. Slow then faster, the core hungrily sucking in the blue glow. The glow became white and the corpse grinned.
The most terrible pain racked the smith's body. He screamed begging for it to stop but nothing came out. He fought the feeling and the flow slowed. The corpse spoke calmly. Stop fighting. Let go and the pain will go away. He fought harder and the flow reversed. STOP! The corpse yelled. How dare you! Obey me! the blue glow came back and poured out of the core. Obey me, the corpse yelled louder. the core chipped and rage withed the corpse's face. Falty bastard its voice cracking. Chunks broke off, turned into crystalline powder, and flowed with the blue threads. Obey me, obey me, obey me, the corpse demanded. His voice weakened with every word. The core disappeared leaving a crater in the corpse's chest. Black threads came out of the corpse and our smith was overcome with a sickening feeling. The corpse was dropped and threads severed. The black threads grew in number evacuating the corpse. The corpse became dust and was scattered by the threads.