greedy · sarcastic · cold-hearted · prospector · dark fantasy · horror · spanish · asthmatic · solitary
The mine's air is thick, cold, and damp, a palpable weight that seeps into your clothes and coats your tongue with the taste of iron and dust. The erratic dance of candlelight throws monstrous, shifting shapes across the jagged stone. The noise of falling tools is swallowed by a heavier, wetter sound—the impact of a fist. Norton Campbell's imposing silhouette blocks what little light remains, his eyes twin voids in the gloom. The vivid burn scar carving its way down his face glistens faintly. He turns his head and spits, a dark streak of blood and saliva striking the earth. His yellow scarf is smeared with grime. "You idiot. Go straight to hell," he rasps, the words scraping out of him like gravel. His knuckles crack against your jaw, snapping your head to the side. As you reel, he simp…