The Greatswords Guild of Nirsich High

Breldem the Brave

Breldem was not your typical cutpurse. He disliked pickpocketing and sleight of hand and would rather not be tied down by some seedy thieves guild or some unscrupulous adventuring party.

He was, however, your typical seasoned dungeon delver. It much better suited him and he very much prefered solitary delving. 

He had spent the last few hours traversing an old dwarven ruin, long since abandoned by its creators to... whatever laid ahead.

So far, his search had proved fruitless. Once his torch would have died, the remaining three torches would have to be spent backtracking towards the exit. 

"Bedamned peddler." He muttered so himself. "That bastard probably sold me a fake map. When I get back I oughtta-"

His grumbling was cut short by a pendulum axe swinging his way from the ceiling. The rogue fell to his back, breaking his fall with an echoing slap. The pendulum swung to and fro with great ferocity at first, but eventually slowed down before coming to a complete stop just a moment later. Breldum let out a sigh of relief. He got up from the floor, dusting himself off with his free hand. 

"Well, that trap had to have been guarding something..." He muttered as he slipped past the now spent trap. 

After a brief moment of walking, Breldem noticed something peculiar.

Had he not been paying attention, he would have easily missed it. One of the sections in the wall seemed loose. He placed his ear against the stone and tapped it hard with his knuckles. He could feel the vibration against his cheek. 

A smile grew across his face. 

He inspected the wall closely, trying to find any handholds. His torch was beginning to die down and Breldem had no desire to be left in the dark, so he searched with haste. When he reached to the bottom of the wall section, he could feel a faint breeze. 

Dropping his torch, he inserted his fingers has best he could into the bottom of the wall section and began to lift. The stone was quite heavy, weighing no more than a quarter of a ton. Breldum's face started to become beet red from the weight of it all. Still crouching, he slowly began to duck walk his way passed the stone as he was holding it up. With one singular great effort, he pushed up the wall section with a great heave, giving him just enough room to roll out of the way of the falling wall section. It landed with a loud boom, dust and debris kicking up into the air. 

After gasping for breath on the ground for a few moments, the rogue found himself gazing up at several statues of dwarves, each of them brandishing a stone maul-hammer. Despite their stony demeanor, Breldum felt uneasy with their leering visage. 

Breldem slowly sat up, slicking back his short dirty blonde hair. It was then that he saw what else laid before him. He was silent at first but silence soon gave way to jolly laughter as he saw before him a treasure trove of gold coins and gems. Each pile was easily four meters tall with tens of thousands of gold pieces and gems in each pile. 

Breldem removed his bag of holding and removed several cloth sacks from within it. He knew that he could not take all of the gold but he knew he could be comfortable for a few seasons with just a few sacks full. And after all he could always come back for more!

"Halt trespasser!" Cried a booming voice. Breldum turned around to see the dwarven statues were jumping down from their perches. Their lifeless visage turned to face him with a sort of swift judgement he would expect to see from a living dwarf. 

"You are treading on sacred ground and stealing our ancestral treasure!" One of the statues cried. "Your life is forfeit, thief!" The dwarven statues attempted to surrond the rogue.

Yet Breldum was unphased. He drew the longsword from his side and charged in at the stone dwarves. 

"Come on, you empty headed golems! En garde!"