Here is today's excerpt:
Turning a last corner, Gair saw the sagging sink-hole of fire-lit rock, and the swollen cauldrons squatting grimly over the vents. On the other side, several stout figures were dragging away the empty shells of a small millipede (only the length of about nine or ten dwarves) to a farther stretch of rock to break it apart for its valuable, stone-hard scales – yet another part of their worst enemy that the dwarves gladly put to good use. Gair himself wore a bristling tunic cobbled from such scales, as did Brenna. Her millipede armor chittered ominously as she clattered atop her perch.
“Ho there, Brenna!” On the black scaffolding surrounding the nearest cauldron, a stubby hand waved as the dwarf broke into a rare smile – rare not for this dwarf to smile, but for dwarves in general to smile. Life in the Sighted City did not invite much cause for joy and celebration.
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