Miner Difficulties

I have fought men, beasts, spirits. Never a rock that falls from the ceiling to stab me in the back.
 
The mine was dark, full of echoes that did not belong to us. Things lurked—piercers, rust monsters, a gas spore pretending to be a beholder (it fooled Tycho for half a breath, which I will remind him of until my dying day).
 
We went deeper. Found drow. I told them the mine was cursed, and they believed me. Lies are easier when they are close to truth.
 
At the bottom? A hook horror. It screeched, it slashed, but in the end, it fell. The mine is safe. The Blackstone miners will drink in our name. Good. I prefer my victories toasted with ale.
 
I took a rope from the mines. Magic, this one—cut it, and it will mend itself. I wear it wrapped around my wrists and legs, like the old fighters do. A reminder.