Altars Fell

A caravan of hand carts emerged from the afternoon sandstorm into the protected valley.  The pilgrims shambled wearily between the iron-rich towers of stone that marked the gap in the mountains leading to the ruins of the city once called Ibidesh, "The City of Altars."  These few pious travelers from the city-state of Iordon were more familiar with another name: Moabid which translated roughly as "altars fell" in the ancient tongue spoken by its last inhabitants.

Excavation

Hioshan and Relanther grunted as they labored, swinging their mining hammers.  Each time a hammer head slammed into the rock face, the stone would momentarily splash and flow down into the collection troughs before its natural state reasserted.  It was almost time for a break in the work; the droplets of granite were beginning to weigh heavy on their protective leather gear and the trough sledges were nearly full.  Besides, it would be a blessing to step out into the cold arctic air outside the shaft.