Krim lore

It had been months since anything interesting had happened, and it certainly didn’t seem like anything cool would happen anytime soon.
Because of this, Krim spent a majority of his time mining. The once small strip mine had soon expanded into a cavern, hollowed out for miles.
He spent weeks there, mining until he felt his hands would fall off. Somehow it was soothing, and he started to crave the sound of breaking stone. Mining was all he knew, and by god he was good at it. He began to forget about the world above, and the only colours he knew were greys and the occasional glimmer of ore. 

He had grown used to this life, so when that day came and he burst into a room lathered in red and gold, he knew he hit the jackpot. It was like nothing he had seen before. Suddenly those grand desert temples he had admired for so long turned into mere sand castles. Laid out before him a huge labyrinth, spiralling towers, intricate carvings. It was beautiful. Krim took no hesitance, and readying his sword for what he might find, he entered. 

Krim quickly got lost. He became unable to tell his own torches from the structure’s, and he soon forgot which way he entered.
Thankfully, he had enough chicken to last him, and as he wandered his way through the temple, he finally stumbled across something of interest. Hidden amongst terracotta and hardened sand, Krim managed to mine into a secluded library. The roof stretched at least double the height of the corridor he just stood in, and in the darkness, he couldn’t even see the top. Awe struck Krim stepped into the hall, letting his eyes drift from book shelf, to painting, to book shelf, to tapestry. If he thought the other rooms were beautiful, he must have been kidding himself, because this one was exquisite.
Shelves lined the walls, stretching further than Krim could see.
A brilliant, red carpet was laid out in the centre, in a neat straight line stretching the length of the hall. Either side of it was decorated with ornate furniture, and tapestries of unknown characters. Long-extinguished fire places accompanied the reading corners, wafting an old musty smoke scent across the room, conflicting with the smell of old pages. Beneath it all though, Krim could smell the faint yet obvious smell of rotting flesh. Unwilling to discover the origin of it, he kept walking. Upon inspection, however, the first book he pulled out from the book shelf was unreadable. He tried another, but to his dismay, he couldn’t read that one either. The letters were strange, symbolic almost, but impossible to decipher without a key.
It was vaguely familiar, though Krim couldn’t place his finger on it. 

Annoyed but not deterred by this, Krim trekked through the rest of the library, hoping to find something he could read, or at least a translator. But none appeared; this place was far older than any language Krim had heard of. Finally he reached the end of the hall, where the walls had begun curving inwards and down to meet the floor. In the centre of this stood a single spruce door, boarded up with planks. Crudely laid nails barred it shut, and stacks of furniture were piled up against it. Krim could make out where the handle was, and after a fair bit of effort, he was able to shove aside the largest of the barricades, leaving enough room for him to slip through the doorway. Using his pickaxe, he was able to pry open the door, the rusted nails doing little to stop him. 

He entered yet another hallway, but this one was unlike the others. Lining it were red stone torches and holes of unknown contents. Carefully hidden pistons and pressure plates clinked as he walked past, echoing down the tunnel. One of the traps  not yet over its glory days delivered a barrage of arrows before letting out one final wheeze as the dispenser failed. Krim was not quite able to dodge in time, but was saved by his hanging scabbard, inches away from where his leg would have been pierced.
Thankfully all the other traps were long disabled, and posed no more a threat to him than accidentally mining into lava. Krim was able to navigate his way through the tunnel, his underground compass feeling each turn as it twisted. He could feel the slight incline as he went, noting that he was probably near the top by now, or maybe it was the other way around, as he neared the deepest chamber. Whichever it was, Krim knew that somehow, he has reached the most prized section, and rather than mining straight through it, he reverently walked the tunnels appreciating each block comprising it. 

As he neared the end, he was met with yet another door, this one open, leading to a set of stairs spiralling off into darkness.
By now Krim was onto his last torch, which be placed before saying goodbye to the light, and entering the abyss that greeted him. 

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End.