A bizarre creature sprawled before us, a grotesque fusion of features I had never encountered. His most striking abnormality was a long beak-like nose that jutted out dramatically from his face. It looked like something out of a fever dream, defying any creature I'd ever seen or heard about in hushed gossip.

The rest of his face, flushed a deep crimson, could have been a permanent condition or simply the effect of the potent liquor swirling in his bulbous, gourd-shaped flask. He gnawed on something leathery and brown, a far cry from the familiar roasted meats, with a disturbing relish.

"Come closer. Gather round, new and old friends!" Max boomed, his voice unexpectedly deep for his short, stocky build. Dwarves, whispers in the back of my mind recalled, were known for their stature and their dexterity in the mines. A wave of his hand, adorned with a chunky silver ring that gleamed in the filtered sunlight, sent a tremor through the dusty floor.

My skin prickled. Despite the heat, the sight of the elongated nose and the reeking snack churning in his mouth sent a wave of nausea through me. The boys, however, seemed unfazed, pulling me closer to the strange, pungent figure.

"Here, here," Raine said with surprising familiarity, stepping forward and placing a hand on my shoulder, his touch a grounding force amidst the strangeness. "Max may look a bit… rough around the edges, but he means well enough. He's part dwarf, of course, explains the love for tunnels and trinkets. But there's definitely something… unusual about him too."

Raine's words sparked a flicker of unease in me. The long nose, the crimson face, the way he moved – it all felt unsettlingly out of place. The only explanation I could grasp was a strange human condition, some sort of bizarre illness that contorted his features.

"Aye, a touch of something special runs through these veins as well," Max chugged, his voice thick with amusement. "Keeps the old fellow going, wouldn't you say?"

Max did little to quell the unease churning in my gut. But if he wasn't curious about my purple face, I wasn't about to ask about his red one.

"New one, come closer," Max slurred, his gaze locking onto me with a predatory intensity. He didn't even rise, but his upper body twisted on the elaborately carved bed frame, one arm extended with a beckoning hand. The gesture felt like an obscene invitation, a violation of my personal space.

"Let me feel your… warmth," he rasped, his voice dropping to a low, magnetizing hum. A cold dread slithered down my spine as the crimson on his face deepened, a sickly flush that mirrored the unease churning in my gut.

I recoiled, shaking my head vehemently, unable to force a single word past the lump in my throat. This man, easily my mother's age based on the network of wrinkles etched on his face, exuded an unsettling aura. What secrets did he hold beneath that crimson mask of a face?

He gave me a wide smile and shrugged as I maintained standing. “So, boys, what do you want with old Max?” Max attempted to put his arm around Raine, but Raine just shrugged him off.

“We want to go through the dungeons,” Will said as he swallowed, he must have had the same sense of dread I had.

“Big move, big move.” Max leaned too close to me; I almost bolted, but instead, he pulled some kind of hose from around my ankle and tugged hard on it. “You know that’s orc territory, right, boys?”

“That’s why we’re here, Max. We need to know a bit more about what we will be facing down there.” Raine inched a bit away from Max as he blew a lot of smoke from his hose.

“Alright then, gather around and hear the shrill tale of the lost miner.” Max gestured for us to come closer with the hose, but none of us moved. He pulled his guitar and strummed a few notes, then he put it down. “Tales of a time beyond time speak of a man who decided to descend the very bowels of the earth and dare the elements.” Max finished and picked up his hose, dragging on it.

"Some say it was only a year ago, some say it was an eon ago, but who am I to judge the ultimate truth?" He started to giggle, then he coughed, and the coughing turned into a whole fit of coughing.

All three of us scrambled to cover our faces. We all snatched a cloth from the elaborately carved table. Just my luck—mine was an old sock! Disgust warring with nausea, I flung the sock aside just in time to dry heave, the stench of Max's "alcohol" assaulting my senses with renewed vigor.

Raine, ever the resourceful one, yanked Max's oversized shirt off the back of a chair. He shoved it at me, the movement jerky despite his attempt at nonchalance. "Here," he rasped, his voice muffled by his own makeshift cloth barrier, "use this! Less... sentimental value than your sock, I'd imagine." A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes, a welcome spark of lightness amidst the chaos.

"He went through the mine yonder and tricked the guards to go down as far as he could, where no man had ever been admitted." Max wiped the drizzle of his spit with the hem of his weird tunic. Yuck.

“But then he went missing for a long time, some say it was a full decade, and some say it was far longer.” Man, this guy really had a problem with his storytelling sequence, the man in the story went down the mine a year ago, but it was before time, and he came back a decade later. What the heck was he smoking?!

"One day, as the old shift went and the new shift came in its place, the miner came back… missing an arm and a leg he was." He paused, the silence thick and heavy. “And that, my friends, is why you don’t go to the mines alone.” Max nodded to an unseen audience that apparently sat behind us. I had to look behind me to be sure!

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“The old miner, barely nineteen," Max began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "lay dying, but in his last breath, he spoke of a hidden world. A place teeming with weapons beyond imagination, enough to arm an entire legion." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "He warned of a seductive power, of the orcs who guard these treasures, and the dangers of succumbing to their allure." Max's gaze darted nervously behind the tent flap, sending shivers down my spine.

I scoffed, amusement battling with rising skepticism. "The old miner who was only nineteen? And in his last breath, he managed a whole speech about elves and dungeons? Sounds more like a bar tale than a true story."

Max's crimson face flushed a shade darker. He cleared his throat, his gaze flickering nervously. "Well, maybe not a whole speech," he mumbled, "but a lot for a dying man, that's for sure! He spoke of trials, of losing limbs in exchange for the perfect weapon. A chilling tale, wouldn't you say?" He strummed a discordant chord on his guitar, the sound echoing through the dusty tent. "That, my friends," he declared, a forced smile on his lips, "is the story of the miner." He winked at me, a wink that sent a cold tremor down my spine.

The weight of Max's story, and the chilling detail of the kid's death, hung heavy in the air, thick and acrid with the lingering scent of hookah smoke. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the gaps in the tent fabric, painting the interior with an eerie, golden twilight. Silence stretched, oppressive under the fading light.

"So," Will finally spoke, his voice low, "assuming there's any truth to this business, do you have any idea where their… dungeon exits might be located?" I could only assume he deliberately avoided specifying "orcs" or "elves," unsure of Max's allegiances.

Max strummed a thoughtful tune on his guitar, the dying light of the sun glinting off the strings. Blue curls of hookah smoke danced in the air around him. "Well," he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of amusement, "a map wouldn't be the easiest thing to come by. The orcs and elves," he added, a sly glint in his eyes, "are secretive creatures, you see. Don't much appreciate folks barging into their backyards."

I scoffed. "Look, Max, we're not exactly on a treasure hunt. A simple sketch, anything to point us in the right direction, would be helpful." I gestured vaguely with my hand, the movement momentarily disrupting the smoke.

Max's gaze flickered to me, a sly glint in his eyes. "Help comes at a price, little one. What can you offer an old dwarf like me?"

Raine stepped forward, his voice firm. "Information. We can share what we've learned about the recent tremors and the strange readings coming from the lower levels. It might be valuable to you and the elves, wouldn't you say?"

Max stroked his beard thoughtfully, considering their offer. He puffed on his hookah thoughtfully, smoke curling from his lips. The tension stretched thick and heavy under the haze. "Intriguing," he finally muttered. A sly grin finally spread across his face. "Information for a map, sounds fair enough. Tremors and strange readings, you say? Tell me everything you've got."

Will cleared his throat. "The tremors started a few weeks ago. They seem to be localized around the entrance to the old mine shafts. They're not strong enough to cause any major damage, but they happen frequently, and the rhythmic pattern is unsettling."

"The readings are even more puzzling," Raine declared, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He punctuated each word with a jab of his index finger, air quotes forming around “orcs." "Our instruments are picking up unusual energy fluctuations emanating from the lower levels. It's unlike anything we've encountered before. But of course, the elves blame it on ‘orcs’ getting restless, hungry, and bigger in number. Convenient, wouldn't you say?"

He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Instead, I think it's connected to something far more… botanical. Its vines are thick and entwined, pulsing with an emerald glow right before a tremor hits."

Raine's eyes narrowed. "The energy readings could be a sign of its power growing, and the tremors, its restless stirring. If the elves get their way and blame the orcs, they'll have an excuse to seize control of the mines. We need to stop them."

Will chimed in, "Exactly. That's why this information is valuable. If you can help us understand these new plant forms and their connection to the tremors, we might be able to prevent a catastrophe. In return, we'll offer you the map you seek, along with a share of any resources we find down there."

Max's eyes gleamed with a newfound interest. He set his hookah down with a deliberate thud, the sound echoing in the dusty room. Reaching under the table with surprising agility for an old dwarf, he pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment and placed it squarely on the table before them.

The map lay there, a tangible promise of answers. Relief washed over them, and instinctively, Raine's hand darted forward.

Max's grip tightened on the parchment a beat too late. The playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sly smile. "Hold on there, young adventurers," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "Seems you're eager to put this newfound knowledge to use. Won't you stay for a hug, a tune, or some good vibes from my hookah?"

Raine stood, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Some other time, Max. We appreciate the information." He carefully peeled his fingers away from Max's, taking the map with him.

Max, with a sigh that seemed to deflate him slightly, finally relented. "Very well," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But remember, adventurers, the path ahead won't be easy. Even the most detailed map can't account for all the surprises that lurk beneath the earth."

Relief washed over us as we secured the map. With a final thank you, we emerged from the dusty tent. Excitement crackled in the air, and I stole a glance at Raine. He held the map rolled tightly in his hand, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“What was that all about?” I shivered as I asked the boys.

Raine's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "Around eight or nine months ago," he murmured as we moved away from Max's tent, "a kid somehow slipped past the guards and made it down to the dungeons."

Will added, his voice thoughtful. "That story bears a strong resemblance to the one Max just spun. And he does seem to be the epicenter of every rumor and tale swirling around the mine."

A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. "So, we should be prepared to..." I trailed off, unable to voice the horrifying possibility.

Will picked up the unspoken thought, his voice grim. "Lose limbs? Not exactly the welcome party we were hoping for."

"Agreed," Raine said, his earlier cheer replaced by a steely resolve.

"Losing limbs isn't exactly on my to-do list. But speaking of limbs," Will continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "the miner Max mentioned losing limbs during a trial? That didn't happen to the kid who got past the guards. He came back, but tragically died within two days of returning, as if some poisonous miasma clinging to the depths had seeped into him. I remember his two siblings holding each other for comfort, their tear-streaked faces etched in my memory."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. "Creepy!" I finally managed, a shiver running down my spine.

"Tell me about it," Raine snorted, but the humor sounded forced.