I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die.
No risk, no reward!
Doom arrived in this place through a hole struck in the quarry wall. A hole, just like a thousand others, except from it a sinuous mist issued forth that settling like a caul upon the quarry, blocking the sun’s rays, and visiting a terrible consumption on the workers. Masons piled rocks to plug the widening rent but to no avail, the mist’s tendrils seeped through the smallest gaps and crumbled the mortar carefully set to bar its way.
For a time the craftfolk persevered but, surrounded by clutching mist, and constant illness, their dangerous jobs turned deadly and one by one, they departed leaving only the most desperate and unskilled.
And so, with your family already starving, and no prospect of work before winter, you’ve gathered some doughty companions and resolved to vanquish the mist, reopen the stone works and claim the quarry owner’s reward.