Another contribution to the game design thread.
A glimpse into the life of a dwarven adventurer:
Brakke was a warrior and it galled him to be fleeing almost naked through this labyrinth of water carved passages. Some time ago the Vilespawn had fallen on him in huge numbers, weighing him down and disarming him even as his hands crushed skulls and twisted the necks of as many of them as he could get hold of. Eventually they wrestled the heavy steel helmet off his head and knocked his skull with an iron banded club, sending him into the void of unconsciousness. Later he awoke to the hissing and spitting sounds of several score Vilespawns arguing amongst themselves in their unholy language. It seemed there were some more interested in killing him for the destruction he had laid upon them instead of carting him alive and well back to their foul master. Dazed at first but quickly gaining equilibrium, Brakke looked around and saw he was in a cavern lit by a central fire where they had made their camp. He could see no sign of his armor or his axe, but his life was what was most valuable to him now. Edging away from the firelight and the black forms of the heatedly arguing Vilespawn he silently crawled to one of several dark openings in the cavern wall. He had run just over a hundred paces down the passage before they realized he was missing and began to shout and cry in dismay.
That was nearly a full day ago and now sounds of pursuit were growing fainter and fainter. Brakke smiled to himself knowing that his pursuers had just entered a large cavern of loose shale and sinkholes that he had skirted several hundred heartbeats earlier. He took a moment to get his bearings again in the maze of natural tunnels. All was in darkness but he could feel and hear and smell the song of the stone all about him. Brakke stretched out his hand to touch the tunnel wall, feeling the grain of the granite and limestone amalgam. The makeup of the stone was not unlike that found throughout Draevenholm far to the north in the mountains of the Aether Wall. He made a small sound with his lips and tongue, listening to the delicate bounce of echoes. There was a void ahead, a big one. Brakke ripped off a small piece of fabric from the filthy linen shift that was the only possession his captors had left him and dropped it on the ground, leaving spore which would hopefully lead his trackers to their doom. Silently, he retraced his steps backwards, each foot falling exactly into the same step that had brought him forward until he reached a narrow opening in the stone directly overhead that he had passed earlier. He reached up and leaped, slapping a hand to each side of the narrow opening and began wriggling up using his fingers and forearms. His wide shoulders barely cleared the hole but he continued on, trusting to the song of the stone to lead him to freedom.