Long had been their travels. Each from different parts of the region, they had meet quite by accident when all of them tried to stop a brawl at a tavern. Talking over a few pints of ale, they agreed to set up a mercenary clan. With their combined forces, they would be worthy of whatever task was set before them. Walking south, they saw a large group of travelers walking their way.
"Must be people from the next town," Dorn, the leader, said. The group watched as the peasants approached. Some looked at the wizard and barbarian with fear or hatred. Nomads and people dealing with magic most likely weren't welcome in their town.
"Excuse me," Silah, the cleric, asked one of the passing peasants quickly, "But why are there so many of you leaving the next town?"
"There's bad happenings down there," the elderly man replied, "Many of our kin have died of some kind of illness that just suddenly appeared out of no where. There have also been tales of strange creatures in the mines attacking our miners. We just gave up trying to live there anymore."
"Mines?" Jomz, the rouge, asked.
"Aye, the mines. Littered with silver ore ripe for the pickin'." The eyes of the small clan lit up. "But no one dares go down there anymore. Cursed it is. A shame, really." With that, he continued his trek next to his brethren.
"Silver ore! That's a good five hundred gold for just a small chunk of it," Tateland, the wizard, said.
"I say we go check it out," Dorn suggested. All quickly agreed and they soon followed the road down to the small town they saw peaking over the next hill.
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"What?" Tateland asked in surprise.
"I want you and Slaut here to stay outside just in case something happens," Dorn tried to explain to the wizard. "We might scare up a nest of goblins or kobolds that we might need to chase out, or something might try to come in to help what ever is in here. In short, nothing comes in or out unless it's us. Understood?"
"Fine! But don't come crying to me when you desperately needed my knowledge of the magic arts to save your orc loving backside." He walked over to the barbarian who was a good half a foot taller than the angry wizard, childishly admiring a flock of geese flying by. "Hey, big guy. Let's set up a small camp here."
"I'll get wood for flames," Slaut said, and he stomped off into the woods close by.
The rest of the group slowly made their way into the mine. Dorn held a torch in front of him, leading the way down the corridor with Silah right behind, using her natural half-elven talents to see further into the dark than the torch would allow.
About ten minutes had passed when they found themselves standing in a chamber filled with chunks of silver ore scattered on the ground next to an over turned cart, a pair of legs jutting out from beneath them. Silah held back a scream, terror forming in her eyes. Lor passed her and picked up a rock.
"Here's some of that ore we heard tale of," he said. Jomz and Dorn looked at each other and then started to collect ore themselves, dreaming of what great riches awaited them.
"Shouldn't we check the body?" Silah asked. "He might still be alive." Dorn raised his torch to the wall.
"Have you noticed the blood soaked walls?" he asked. Silah held back another scream. "I doubt all of it is his," Dorn continued, "But it is really unlikely anyone survived whatever happened down here."
Jomz placed one last piece of ore into his bag before he said, "Here, I'll help you."
"Thank you, Jomz." Silah reached for the left end of the cart as Jomz took his place at the right.
"Ready?" he asked. The cleric nodded. "One, two, three!" They pulled the cart up, tripping a wire. A loud crash of thunder filled the chamber, knocking Silah and Jomz off their feet. Bells replaced what they once had for hearing. Dorn and Lor quickly recovered from the shock of hearing such a sudden noise in order to help their comrades.
"Are you okay?" Dorn asked Silah.
"What?" she asked rather loudly. Dorn quickly motioned for her to remain silent, then to the fact that her hearing would be gone for a little while.