My good friend Martin Gore continually chastises me about this bad habit I have, yet his eyes always light up when I bring home the ingots and ore from the rude miners that I encounter mining around his home.

Today I was wandering about the Covetous area on Wakoku, watching the blue named folk scatter like hens before a fox, when I ran across a dully-clad individual pounding the ground over and over. I attempted to engage him in conversation, as I was rather surprised that he didn't attempt the usual "Kal Ort Por" that so many people utter upon my arrival. I found my eyes drawn to the 900 ore he had at his feet of various colors...he had been busy.

"Hello good sir. How is the mining today?" I asked.

He replied with a blank look and "?".

"The mining sir. What you are doing with shovels."

Again, I received a "?" as a reply.

I gritted my teeth at his obvious slowness of mind. I was red-named, clad in exceptional shadow plate and a black cloak, on a horse, and this idiot didn't even have the decency to say "Good day". Clearly this was one of those individuals with a mere 10 intelligence. "Sir, you seem to have something of an excess of ore at your feet. As I have none at mine and there is much at yours. I feel the need to rectify the situation. You will give me that ore."

At this point he spouted gibberish that I couldn't understand (but was probably Japanese), and tossed a purple potion at my feet. I danced back and readied my repertoire of spells.

"Uus Mani" I chanted, as I sent the spell at him. It predictably reflected back to me, and I enjoyed the feeling of strength surging through my limbs.

"An Ex Por" and he was frozen into a state of catatonia.

I asked him "Any last words before you die?"

He replied with more gibberish, which annoyed me greatly and filled me with a desire to see his face evaporate into a fine red mist. I tossed a greater explosion potion at his paralyzed feet, followed by a second. Knowing time was of the essence, I quickly chanted two spells in rapid succession.

"Vas Ort Flam"
"Corp Por"

Both spells hit home at the same time my first explosion potion went off, damaging the lout greatly. As it was clear he was no match for me in the magical arts, I paralyzed him again for some last words.

"You do realize of course, that you are responsible for your death and not I. Work on your conversational skills and perhaps I will treat you as a favored underling next time we meet."

I pulled out my favorite bow, casually sighted along the arrow, and sent the shaft home deep into his body, which was already falling from the trauma.

Searching his carcass with practiced ease, I came across a most welcome treasure! He was carrying more than 300 ingots of the shadow, dull copper, and copper colors, and 500 ingots of the more common silver. Add these ingots to the ingots that Martin Gore would surely produce from the ore still on the ground, and this was definitely a worthwhile kill of yet another greedy unsharing miner.

The moral of this story is a simple one. Treat your betters with respect. Say hello to PK's who you run across when mining if you can't recall.