Battle Miners

Battle Miners. Aye, I believe we’ve got the hardest job in the country. Every day, head down into the mines, loom for that good shiny loot, head home and go to bed. Every now and then, this deep rocky prison creams and groans with the promise of a beast. We gather our sharpest picks and prepare for a fight. As we stare into the murky blackness of the mine, a glowing beast perks it’s nasty features into view. Glowing, malicious blue eyes. Smog pouring from its gaping jaw, as if it were drool. We use all the resources at hand. Dynamite, dangling rocks, and of course, ourselves. Eventually, we always take down the beast. Aye, sometimes it takes a few days, but I need a paycheck. So I always waddle myself down into this cursed crevice to fight a beast, mine the ore, and earn a paycheck.