Role

Chapter 3

Sweat clung to Aroyang's brow as he worked furiously with his pickaxe.
With every stroke, came the satisfying release of rock from the mount.
And then all at once, the soil suddenly gave way to a hot white light.
Aroyang nearly went blind, his eyes having to adjust from the darkness.
"What thing could this be?" He asked himself, knowing it wasn't gold.
Once his vision had cleared, Aroyang beheld an image of magical power.
In the lower portion of the image, a village was nestled among mountains.
The townsfolk of the village could be seen fending off orcs and bandits.
One woman was being raped by two men whom wore imperial signet armor.
In the upper portion, Aroyang recognized his own mountain, the Arac.
Somehow, Aroyang knew in heart that this was a vision of today's events.
He had spent the last fifteen years in solitude, beneath his mountain.
And all the while, the world went about their business without him.
What terrible cost did that woman pay because he did not lend his arm?
Was there anything he could do to help send those orcs into Hades fire?
He had to find out, of that his heart was achingly certain. He screamed.
His outcry bellowed throughout the mountain, shaking the tunnel walls.
Only his expertise at building supports kept them from crashing down.
When at last he had expelled his last breath of rage, he made his exit.
He gathered all the supplies he could carry and headed for the village...