Simon Lane woke to find himself lying on rocky ground. Cursing he opened his eyes to darkness. He cursed again. Where the fuck was he? He patted himself down. Wherever he was he had been here a long time. His beard was long, platted, and reached down to his navel. His clothes mostly leather. A dented pot helm on his head and hobnailed boots on his feet. His limbs seemed shorter than he expected. There was a pickaxe on a loop at his belt.

{Darkness environment encountered. [Rombe] [Stonesense] Activated}

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“What. The. Fuck.”

His every word seemed to bounce off the rocky walls around him. He was hemmed in by tumbled stone. Beyond he could sense a passage. But rock boulders blocked his exit. Limestone. He could taste it from the dust in the air. The sound revealed that he was short, and very stocky.

“I’m a dwarf!”

Excitement bubbled up in his breast. He was a dwarf trapped in a partially collapsed mineshaft. There was only one way out. He pulled the pick from his belt, and swung it at the nearest boulder between him and escape.

He was a dwarf. Digging a hole.

As he dug he sung.