The people wait,

Their only hope, a Prophecy…

Thus saith the Gulgan:

"When the world is in darkness,

Four Warriors will come…"

FINAL FANTASY: WARRIORS WILL COME

Chapter One: Off To Work

THE FIRST TIME one meets a Dwarf, they shall never forget it. The sheer nature of the Dwarf makes sure of that.

Dwarves are mostly short, stocky manlike creatures (if "creature" is the right word) with beards and accents you can cut with a knife. They dwell underground and in mountains, or anywhere else where there's rocks and earth. For it is by rocks and earth that Dwarves make their living.

Two such Dwarves were walking--marching, rather-- down a rocky tunnel hundreds of feet below the ground. Each was whistling an carrying a pickaxe on their right shoulder.

The first, wearing blue armor and having a brown beard, was Griozz. His nephew, Bedrock, was the second, wearing green armor and having a smaller beard, for he was much younger than Griozz.

The tunnel winded through Mt. Tungsten, whose interior held the largest concentration of emeralds in the whole continent.

"I can't believe it's my first day to go mining!" exclaimed little Bedrock, whose two-horned helmet was obviously too big for his own head.

"Och! Neither can I, ya wee rascal!" shouted Griozz, who chuckled to himself. "It seems only yesterday my sister was still carryin' you aroond the Fort." Bedrock laughed and Griozz tugged his nephew's beard playfully.

Cave paintings scribbled on the tunnel's walls drew the boy's gaze. Crude depictions of Dwarves and tall Men with swords were repeated several times.

"What are these, Uncle Griozz?" he asked.

Griozz look ed back at his nephew but continued walking. "Ah, old drawings, laddie. Battles from long past, tales of kings and queens… It's all hist'ry, Y'know!"

Satisfied with this explanation, Bedrock looked away from the cave drawings, but his mind still lingered. It lingered on imaginary adventures and journeys hidden in the recesses of a mountain just like this, in a distant land or right up ahead, whichever was closer.

The two reached an opening to a where mounds upon mounds of glittering jewels and minerals lay, and there was barely any room to walk on the rocky floor. The cavern walls reached up high above the mounds, so high in fact that the ceiling was bathed in shadow.

Instantly Griozz chose a spot and began picking away with his pickaxe. Bedrock followed suit clumsily, and the two soon, after much trying, created a metronomic rhythm of clinks and swings.

This was the simple yet brilliant life of the Dwarf. For Dwarves, working was as fun as leisure, and both were prime reasons for getting up in the morning.

Not long into this rhythm did other Dwarves begin to arrive in the mine as well. Some were even stockier than Griozz, some lean, some even a little bit tall (for a Dwarf). But all were armed with pickaxes and joined in on the work.

For minutes and hours the Dwarves toiled on, some whistling louder and lustier. Slowly but surely they began to sing the old Dwarven ballads passed down from their ancestors. The ancestry swelled up in their entire bodies, pulsing through their veins, commanding every rise and fall of the pickaxes.

Mining is what Dwarves do best, after all.

The glint of the crystals' surfaces amazed young Bedrock, who had never been to a mine before. This, coupled with the awe-inspiring atmosphere of the other miners, motivated Bedrock to do something so daring and bold he almost regretted it.

He put down his pickaxe slowly, glanced over to make sure his uncle wasn't watching, and reached out to grab the emerald.

As his tiny fingers closed in on the treasure, the sparkling artifact of beauty so close within his reach, thoughts of the cave drawings came back. Maybe this was what the kings and queens were fighting the battles for! Maybe he had chosen the right emerald out of the thousands in the mine, the one they had been looking for (if they ever did look for such a thing). Maybe he, Bedrock, would become the youngest adventurer ever in this History his uncle had mentioned.

As soon as he did, a loud, foreign yell echoed throughout the cavern! Everyone stopped working and looked around frantically for the noise's source.

Another scream. Griozz held his pickaxe in a fighting stance now, round brown eyes alert. His bulbous nose sniffed the air. "I smell something very foul…"

Then, from one of the other tunnel entrances that led into the cavern, a small Something appeared. The Something carried a tiny dagger and a had long, floppy ears, orange skin, and warts all over its ugly face. The Something stepped through the opening into the cavern.

"I don't believe it," gasped Griozz, who turned to his nephew who was in the middle of snatching an emerald from one of the piles. "Get behind me, Bedrock! Quick!"

The tiny Dwarf obeyed, forgetting the jewel and scrambling as fast as his tiny legs could take him to the safety of his uncle. Griozz raised his pickaxe as the Something crept slowly towards him, a menacing look on its features.

In an instant chaos erupted. Dwarves were running towards the foe, slashing left and right. Griozz, to one to be left out of a good brawl, joined in. The Goblin (for it was obvious to all the adult Dwarves who had seen such creatures in their history scrolls) was soon overwhelmed and cut down.

But as soon as the Goblin fell, two appeared in the same tunnel entrance. Bedrock pointed at the two new enemies and yelled, "Look, uncle Griozz!"

The thought of the emerald he so longingly desired had now withered away and was blown into the depths of memory, forgotten. For now, a real threat replaced it: real danger had arrived in Bedrock's young life.

Griozz and several other Dwarves jogged towards the oncoming Goblins with pickaxes raised at the ready. One Goblin struck out with his knife, jabbing a Dwarf in the stomach. The Dwarf drew back sharply as he was hit.

Griozz slashed with his pickaxe and cut down the offending Goblin, but the other stabbed a Dwarf in mid-swipe at that same instant.

Three more Goblins came scrambling down the other tunnel to the cavern, dashing straight across the crowded mine towards th other side.

Bedrock yelped. He was standing right in the trio's path! The young Dwarf struck out blindly with his pickaxe and killed one, to his surprise.

The other two noticed and circled around Bedrock to take him out. Griozz noticed this out of the corner of his eye and hesitated for a brief moment, then turned away from the lone Goblin he was facing and ran for his nephew.

Just in the nick of time, Griozz jumped out and covered Bedrock with his body, taking the knife jabs instead.

After much stabbing, the Goblins stopped and looked confusedly at each other. The knives were being blocked by his thick blue armor!

In this brief moment of confusion, a few other Dwarves took the opportunity to run up behind the unsuspecting Goblins and slay them where they stood.

Griozz got up with Bedrock in his bulking arms and spun around to leave. Several other Dwarf miners had already done the same, seeing the Goblin attack being thwarted swiftly.

In an instant Griozz was running, with Bedrock slung over his right shoulder, straight towards the lone Goblin he had deserted earlier. The beast smiled mischievously, rubbing his brown hands together.

Wham!

The only attack that connected was Griozz' left fist to the Goblin's ugly mug. The Dwarf was running straight past the Goblin, into the tunnel, and turning west.

As other Goblins dropped like flies under the Dwarves' pickaxes back in the mine, Griozz ran down the tunnel network, still comprehending that the monsters supposedly banished a century ago had somehow resurfaced.

But not even Griozz, as middle-aged and experienced as he was, could have predicted what was happening all around the land at that moment.