Excerpt from Pint Bloodhorns' journal;
I'll be honest, I did not expect to come out of this in one piece. It's not that I doubted my battle prowess, I think I've proven there's no one tougher than a dwarf through my actions, but when you're down there in the dungeons, it's not always about skill or strength. Sometimes, you're just unlucky enough to fall in a spike pit or inhale something you shouldn't have. Dungeon crawling can be heavily dependent on good fortune and given what we've been through so far, I wasn't completely sure our luck would hold out.
Randallo was dead and so was Godric, though I knew them only for a short time, I had consider them part of my unit, my brothers in arms, and I took their loss harder than I imagined. Especially Godric, poor bastard, it was definitely not his time.
When I stood toe to toe with that blasted Fire Spawn, it was not my skill that I doubted, but my luck. I was sure that the bli
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