Kieth felt a growing discomfort. As he looked at the Goblin King and the Mage who had fought beside him, he realized he had never actually named them. In this wilderness, names had become a symbol of trust, a binding that went beyond a mere alliance of convenience. He took a deep breath, addressing both goblins in turn.
"I'm going to give you names. I should have done this sooner," he said, a sense of resolution in his tone. "You, Goblin King, you'll be Clutch. And you," he continued, turning to the Mage, "you shall be Oastlo."
Clutch and Oastlo both looked at him, eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. Almost immediately, Kieth felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, his body sinking to the cold stone floor. It was as if the act of naming them had drained every ounce of his energy. He lay there, unable to move, though strangely satisfied.
Clutch and Oastlo, too, were affected, shifting uncomfortably as they tried to process this unexpected drain. Kieth watched them through half-closed eyes, noting something peculiar: their auras seemed to be changing, shimmering with new colors and depth.
"Kieth," Clutch began, his voice unusually soft, "something feels… different. I can't put my finger on it."
Oastlo nodded, frowning as he studied his hands. "It's as though our very beings have been reshaped. I feel more powerful, but I don't understand it."
Despite his exhaustion, Kieth managed a weak smile. "Maybe… names carry more power than we realize."
After a long rest, Kieth finally regained his strength. He pushed himself up, feeling the lingering effects of the naming ceremony. Clutch and Oastlo seemed to have recovered as well, though they continued to regard one another with an air of mystique, as if still trying to grasp the transformation that had taken place within them.
"We should keep moving," Kieth said, looking toward the sprawling darkness that stretched beyond their current resting place. "We've come too far to turn back now. And besides, I'd like to see what's hidden within these ruins."
Oastlo, who had been quietly contemplating something, spoke up. "There are ancient dwarven ruins not far from here," he said, his eyes glinting with knowledge. "They're said to be filled with lost artifacts, powerful weapons, and knowledge that dates back centuries. If we're looking for something valuable, that's where we should go."
Kieth nodded, his interest piqued. The tales he'd heard of the dwarves' craftsmanship and ingenuity filled him with a sense of excitement. "Lead the way, Oastlo. Let's see what secrets those ruins hold."
The trio ventured deeper into the dwarven ruins, their footsteps echoing through the darkened halls. Massive stone pillars lined the corridor, adorned with intricate carvings that depicted battles and moments of ancient glory. Despite the ruins' desolate state, the craftsmanship was awe-inspiring, a testament to the dwarves' legendary skill.
Suddenly, Kieth's foot brushed against a raised stone, and with a loud *click*, a trap was triggered. The grinding sound of ancient mechanisms filled the air as a hulking figure emerged from a shadowed alcove, a guardian golem covered in dwarven armor.
"Stay back!" Kieth shouted, pulling Clutch and Oastlo out of harm's way as the golem stepped forward, its metal plating clanking with each movement. The golem's eyes glowed a fierce red, a symbol of its unyielding duty to protect these ruins.
Oastlo quickly readied his Windcaller Staff, creating a powerful gust that struck the golem, momentarily disorienting it. "It won't stay confused for long," he warned. "We need a plan."
The three of them scrambled to take cover behind one of the pillars, catching their breath as they assessed the situation. Kieth stole a quick glance at the golem, noting its robust frame and thick armor. It wasn't going to be easy to outmaneuver something built for sheer durability.
As they searched for an escape route, a figure appeared in a nearby chamber—small, wiry, and alert. It was a gnome, dressed in ragged but functional clothing, his eyes darting toward them with curiosity and caution.
"Hey! You lot are either very brave or very foolish," the gnome said, his voice carrying a slight edge of amusement. "Name's Gozmo. And unless you want to end up as rubble, you might want to use this."
Gozmo held up a small device fashioned from gears and metal scraps. "I call it a Scrambler. Should interfere with that golem's sensors for a few minutes, enough for us to get away."
Without hesitation, Kieth took the device from Gozmo, activating it and tossing it at the golem's feet. Instantly, the golem's movements became sluggish, its red eyes dimming as the device worked its magic. They quickly took the opportunity to slip past it, guided by Gozmo into a safer chamber deeper within the ruins.
After they were clear of immediate danger, Kieth turned to Gozmo. "Thanks for the help. What brings you here, if I may ask?"
"Same thing as you, I'd wager," Gozmo replied, rubbing his hands together. "I'm a bit of a scavenger. I specialize in 'Recycling'—taking bits and pieces of abandoned things and turning them into something useful. These ruins are full of them."
As they continued onward, Kieth spotted something peculiar lying on the ground: a thin, silvery string, barely visible against the cold stone. He crouched down, running his fingers along its length, intrigued by its peculiar shimmer. Gozmo noticed his interest and explained, "That's dwarven steel string. Strong as a blade and flexible as a whip. I'd say it has more uses than you'd think."
Clutch, meanwhile, was drawn to the center of the chamber, where a claymore rested on a weapon rack. The massive sword, covered in intricate runes, seemed to hum with latent energy. He reached for it, feeling an immediate surge of power as his hand gripped the hilt.
"This weapon…" Clutch murmured, almost reverently. "It feels… like it was made for me."
Kieth watched as Clutch hefted the claymore, testing its weight and balance. A slow smile spread across his face. "Looks like we're finding more than just artifacts here," he said. "Maybe these ruins have a few gifts for us after all."
Their exploration, however, was short-lived. A loud grinding noise echoed through the chamber as the golem they'd evaded earlier reactivated, its sensors regaining focus. With a roar, it charged at them, unrelenting in its pursuit.
Gozmo took a quick inventory of his materials, rummaging through his pack. "I've got a few tricks left," he muttered, quickly assembling a makeshift slingshot from old metal scraps. He loaded it with a handful of explosive pebbles and fired at the golem's exposed joints.
The golem staggered, momentarily slowed by the explosions, but it didn't fall. Kieth, Clutch, and Oastlo prepared for battle, steeling themselves for a fierce confrontation.
Oastlo brandished his Windcaller Staff, conjuring a powerful gust that drove the golem back. Kieth followed up with a rapid strike, using his newly acquired dwarven steel string as a whip, lashing it around the golem's arm to restrict its movements. Clutch moved in with his claymore, bringing the blade down with a force that echoed through the ruins. The weapon cleaved into the golem's armor, leaving a significant dent.
The golem retaliated, its heavy arm swinging in a wide arc. The group barely managed to evade the blow, their movements fluid yet cautious. Working together, they coordinated their attacks, each strike chipping away at the golem's defenses.
Finally, after a relentless assault, the golem's eyes flickered and dimmed, its once-formidable frame collapsing into a heap of scrap metal. The chamber fell silent, save for their labored breathing.
As they took a moment to catch their breath, Gozmo looked at them with a hint of admiration. "You three fight well together," he said, nodding appreciatively. "Maybe the dwarves left something for those brave enough to claim it."
The group continued onward, each of them invigorated by the victory and curious about what lay ahead. Clutch wielded his claymore with newfound confidence, while Kieth coiled the dwarven string, thinking of the ways it might serve him in future battles. Oastlo and Gozmo, meanwhile, kept their eyes open for more traps, aware that their journey was far from over.
As they ventured deeper into the ruins, the walls seemed to close in around them, the air thick with ancient magic and the whispers of those who had walked these halls long ago. They could feel the presence of something powerful, something that had waited centuries to be rediscovered.
Yet, just as they reached the next chamber, an ominous rumbling shook the ground beneath their feet. From the shadows, new threats emerged, casting dark silhouettes on the stone walls. The ruins were not yet ready to release them, and it seemed they had only scratched