The Legendary Smith found himself trapped in the iron mine where he had, until moments ago, been enslaved. Behind him, the entrance to the mine had been closed off in a landslide, and on the other side of that massive pile of earth and rock, a pack of dire wolves and a red wyvern had been laying waste to the camp and killing everyone there. James had managed to escape by fleeing into the mine, along the way having picked up his forging tools and the magic bag of one of the slavers, whom he had seen killed by wolves. He was currently on his hands and knees in the near total darkness of the mine tunnel next to the bag, in which he had hastily thrown his tools. The only other things he had at hand were the slave bracers that had fallen off his arms and his Green Iron Ore small Anvil Shaped Object. Disconcertingly, he could hear the soft clicking and scraping of claws on the rock of the tunnel floor. A monster.

  James held his breath, staying as quiet as possible to better hear where the monster was. Although the mine was only nearly totally dark, the extent of the light was just the faintest glow in the deepest part of the tunnel, where nothing should have been, where nothing had been merely an hour ago. At any rate, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face, let alone the monster.

  Although the clicking and scraping continued, the monster didn’t seem to be coming any closer. At least, the sounds never got louder or sounded closer. As the seconds turned to minutes, the faint, nearly imperceptible glow from the far end of the tunnel brightened. His eyes now fully adjusted to the darkness, James could make out the outline of the monster as it shuffled around the tunnel, as thought it were lost.

  It was walking around on four legs, with a round body and head. Beyond that, James couldn’t make out the details, not from that distance and with such poor lighting. As it was, he could only determine the outline of the monster because it was moving. If it stopped, as it did occasionally stop for a moment before continuing, it blended nearly perfectly into the dark background of the tunnel. It looked like it was large enough to come up as high as his hip at the haunches, somewhere around three feet tall, and maybe five or six feet long. Its head, though generally round, also had a long tapered snout, which it was waving around; likely sniffing the tunnel and exploring.

  James slowly, oh so slowly reached towards the magic bag as his heart pounded. His hopes were pinned on one thing: his hammer. He thought back on the self defense his mother had tried to teach him as a Brawler and he felt chagrin as he realized that basically none of it applied to non-human enemies. Well, maybe the eye-gouging, if he could, but the main thing that he thought might help in this situation was to strike first, and with the element of surprise. An extended fight, in his condition, without any defensive protection, would certainly end in his own loss.

  His fingers brushed the fabric of the magic bag, still loosely open from his mad dash into the tunnel. He reached in and felt around with his hand, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

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  He nearly panicked when he realized the bag was empty. His hand was just sliding around in the empty bag, no sign of the tools he had thrown in there, to say nothing of the usual mining tools or other supplies the slaver should have been holding. His heart rate managed to increase even further, and tears sprang to his eyes. Why? Why was this happening? Where the hell was his hammer?

  At the thought of his hammer, there it was. His fingers instantly recognized the handle of his first and largest hammer, and a heartbeat later he had grasped it firmly in his hand. Slowly, he pulled it out of the bag. He forcefully blinked, clenching his eyelids shut in an attempt to restore his now blurry vision.

  Click click, skitter skitter, shuffle shuffle

  The monster was getting closer. The light was continuing to get brighter, from the previous nearly totally dark to now just incredibly dim. He could see the monster better now. It had dark, sleek fur, black or an incredibly dark brown. It looked rather like a mole he had once seen his father cursing at in their fields back home. Just scaled way way up to the size of a serious threat. It didn’t seem to have noticed him yet, as it was still just shuffling back and forth across the tunnel floor, investigating its surroundings. Within a few minutes it would reach his position.

  As quietly as he could, he moved first his left leg, then his left hand, to the right. Then, his right leg, and finally his right hand still gripping his hammer. He left the magic bag and everything else where it was, unwilling to move them and risk making noise. Bit by bit, one limb at a time, he made his way to the tunnel wall. The monster continued is exploration.

  Soon his right leg made contact with a loose bit of rubble from the slaves’ mining activities and he froze as it made a slight scraping sound. He stared at the monster, unblinking. But it didn’t react. James swallowed, then slowly stood up in a crouch. The monster still didn’t react. He pulled back the hammer in his right hand and prepared himself to use his [Technique: Hammer Strike]. Normally, a Smith used the technique to carefully modulate the amount of force used during forging to produce a higher quality product. [Hammer Warrior]s, though, used the same technique to land strikes against their foes in combat. Their moving foes in combat. The [Technique] was capable of aiding in hammer strikes of all kinds and was the foundation of the synergy between the [Smith] and [Hammer Warrior] classes.

  James waited. He would only have one shot. If he missed, or let the monster get a hold of him, he had no way of escaping or continuing to fight. His best chance was a surprise attack as soon as the monster got in striking range, right in the head, as hard as he could without missing.

  He waited patiently, heart pounding. Initially he had all his muscles tensed, ready to strike at a moment’s notice, but he quickly relaxed his muscles while maintaining position. He had one shot. He didn’t want to wear himself out waiting to take it and whiff.

  Slowly, the monster shuffled closer and closer until, about ten yards away, it stopped, sniffing the air. James was focused on its head, harder than he had ever focused in his entire life. Still sniffing the air, apparently having caught James’ scent, it shuffled towards him on short, thick legs.

  It entered into James’ reach, and he swung-

  [Technique: Hammer Strike]