The small village of Kiln had no idea what was coming, today they would see just how devastating an excellent rogue could be. Alder had been stealing for as long as he could remember, and though most wood elves looked down on thievery, no one could deny his abilities. He had been eyeing up Kiln for a while, a once bustling place due to its talented smiths.

The greatest blacksmith in the town was a mighty dwarf known as Brassenbar. Once a warrior of the mountain city of the dwarves though he always had a talent for smithing. He was said to have built a hammer of gold and other alloys he had concocted, said to be priceless however it’s location was unknown. But Alder had a lead from one of his trusted informants that the hammer was hidden in Kiln.

Alder sneaked into the sleepy village, no guards to tiptoe by not even a stray dog. Alder was expecting at least some challenge but clearly Kiln had gone even more downhill recently. Passing by the few cottages and shops Alder glanced into windows as he passed just in case anything caught his eye. To Alders surprise most of the buildings were entirely empty not even furniture to be found. Out of curiosity he tried a door and was shocked to find it unlocked, this didn’t seem right at all.

The floorboards creaked as Alder entered the dusty home. The sound caught him off guard maybe he’d gotten cocky, this place seemed empty but looks could be deceiving. Alder stood in place like a statue to see if anything would react to the noise. Silence. He carried on investigating but there really was nothing here not even an old bed or an awkward cupboard. Alder hopped out of the window to the building next to him which after a quick search bared similar results.

Though disappointed that he couldn’t fill his pockets while checking the lead on the hammer he told himself he better move on. His target was the graveyard where Brassenbar was said to be buried. Now this was an unusual situation as usually dwarfs were sent to their hometown on death. The dwarves had always been a stickler for tradition and burials out of dwarves territory were rare. However Alders lead believed that he was sent to his hometown and the grave here was actually a cache of his finest treasure.

Though Alder did think it was an unlikely thing to have happened he did find a dwarf burial in a small village odd. Passing a couple more buildings he saw the path that lead to the graveyard. As he approached he could see the many tombstones and one stood out against the others. A huge stone hammer standing tall against the other crumbled graves.

Alder approached the mighty stone and grabbed his crowbar from his belt. Prying open the stone he heard a click. “God-“ said Alder as a red flash hit him in the face.