Clang.

Metal upon precious stone.

Drip.

The sweat falling off my forehead.

I lifted the pick above my head and brought it down again.

Another clang.

I put the pick to the floor and balanced on the handle. Wiping the sweat from my brow i looked around.

The heat from the sand emanated through the leather in my boot, making my feet soak. Tens of other Dwarves were hacking away with their axes, some grumbling, some singing, some laughing away with others.

The Trek Wastes were arid. Nothing but a few trees and sand in any direction. The suns bore down on us, making the job fifty times as hard.

But the landscape had changed a few days ago. Now, buried deep in the sand was something new. It had fallen from the sky a few weeks ago. It towered at least ten meters in the air, and shone blindingly in the suns.

The crystal obelisk had simply dropped from above and landed in the waste.

And we had been sent to dig it up.

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Author guidance for This story

I don't think this will go anywhere, but it came to me when i woke up one morning.
Also, i couldn't think of a good description of the Dwarf, so just take a look at this: http://www.warhammerfantasy.net/dwarf.jpg
If you need an idea.

updated Jan 11 '10 by CharlieRoberts