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After half an hour's rest Berga set out again, taking her torch and pot and storing the latter in her sidebag. Today was a bit unusual since Berga never went so deep into the ruins, but she'd already been through the higher part of the ruins and those were picked empty. Maybe some older pot shards were still around, but not much more. Berga wondered what time it was, since it was hard to tell in the darkness of the old ruins. There was no light but that of the torch and some luminous plants which had made it down here. Their lights were dim, but visible and they illuminated the walls all the way to the far end of the cavern. Either the olden ones could see incredibly well in the dark or they had some way to illuminate the cavern even further. People were talking about how in the old days magic was abundant and every second person was fluent in the use of it. Something happened a long time ago that changed that and people were not able to use magic anymore. Only a select few wizards, wi

How to fit in in a town that does not want you? Berga Enderwerth was confronted with this question every day.
She didn't have a lot of money. What she had she made by scavenging the old ruins two days from Devont, the town she lived in. People kept away from the ruins, which they often said were haunted and dangerous. Berga found only the latter to be true: The ruins were old and had the habit of falling appart a bit, but the treasures she found were worth the risk.
Now treasure is used as a loose term. Berga mainly found small pots and copper trinkets, nothing that would make someone rich, but surely something that might buy someone some bread and water for a week. Berga did once apply to be a waitress at the Sturdy Stool, the local tavern, but she didn't react kindly to men grabbing her ass when she walked by the tables to serve drinks, the many barfights that were started by a careless hand started to shoo the costumors away and the owner of the bar threw her onto the streets.
Berga