Goburi was a goblin, a very poor goblin and now that she was dying that meant one thing, she could not even pay the toll to cross into the afterlife.

Goblins worshipped gold, gold watched over them and Goburi had never earned or lost a mote, finding herself to be something of a heritic. Like most descisions in life it had felt like the nobler pursuit at the time, but with the darkness closing in, she realized how terrified she was. Even if she had died in debt, the great elusive glimmer in the depths would have put her soul in a new body, bringing with her the debt and some vague memories. Another chance to die in the black.

Goburi's last thoughts were dark specters of regret chasing themselves in circles of thought until she prayed for it to be done. She really had no idea where the souls of goblin heritics went, it had never really happened before.

A new dungeon was born, a crystal of pure magic containing a soul that failed to pass to the afterlife. As it gained awareness something else came through that was never supposed to be there. Memories of a workshop, and an uncomfortable need to earn gold.