Editing Landsoftheblacksea:Main Page/players/khrumm kÿhr velkr (section)

=== Part III ===

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The journey to the mines had been uneventful – after a brief stop in the last village – Benales – to stock up on supplies, he had journeyed west towards the Iron Mountains – the same range that his people dwelled within, but now considerably further north.

He found the ruins of an old lift system – a huge winch and pulley system that once would have had a match somewhere above where the mine was located, used to bring ore, finished goods, supplies, or anything else up and down to the mine.  Since the paths to the settlements were typically narrow and steep for practical and defensive reasons, the trolley system was useful when conditions allowed for its use.  Of course, it was a complete wreck now – some pieces were gone altogether, and what was left was rusted, rotting, or broken.  It looked like something huge had crashed into it at some point, bending the stout metal of the frame.

After scouting around for about an hour, he found the remains of the trail that would lead to the mine; the markings were old and faded, and no non-dwarf would ever have noticed them.  But there they were, all but weathered away by the passing of years.

He followed the steep path upwards, which twisted through numerous switchbacks and more than one false peak, until he finally found himself on the patio of the entrance to the mines.  The two figures of dwarven soldiers on each side of the stone double doors clearly indicated he had found his goal.  He saw the wrecked and decayed remains of this side of the trolley run, along with the twisted pieces of rail track that would have brought goods in and out of the mine during its heyday.

The stone doors were closed.  

That presented a problem.

He tried every incantation, every secret phrase, every bit of knowledge he possessed about his people to attempt to find the words that would open the doors.

But nothing worked.

Frustrated, he moved over to the ruins of the trolley as night began to fall, wondering what he might do.  Clouds had moved in, and a light, freezing cold rain began to fall, darkening his mood further.

He was about to get up and return down the path to find someplace to make a camp when he heard the unmistakable sound of rock grinding on rock.

He froze.

The doors were opening!

He almost yelled for joy.  But then, as the sound of grinding rock abated, he heard a loud bellowing grunt.

He plastered himself against the wet rock of the side of the mountain face, hiding behind the remnants of the ruined winch system and holding his breath.

As he watched, a shape exited from the doors – it was huge – far taller than a human – and massive.  

A troll.

He closed his eyes.  Perhaps this had not been a good idea.

He quietly exhaled and took a shallow breath.  As he watched, the thing moved out, looking down over the edge of the patio towards the narrow road below.   Then it looked about briefly.  

He froze, hoping it couldn’t see or smell him.

His prayers were answered.  With another loud growl, it turned and clumsily moved off down the trail, descending toward the road below.

He waited.  Minutes went by.  

Ten minutes.    

Fifteen.

Glancing down, he finally saw the huge shape arrive onto the road below.

He let out a slow breath.  

He looked at the open door.  

He had to make a decision.  Enter now and hope to find what he sought; descend to try to get to safety, hoping he didn’t run into the thing doing so; or stay here, freezing in the rain, until the thing returned, hoping it didn’t see him at that point.

At least in a dwarven mine, he would be in environs he knew and understood.  He probably stood a better chance of evading the thing there than out here in the wilds.  Who knows, perhaps with the right tactics and strategy, he could even best it?

He carefully slid out from his hiding spot and edged towards the doors.  Reaching them, he turned and slid inside.

He was now standing on a long, narrow stone bridge on which the tracks ran; on both sides was what appeared to be a bottomless chasm – a fairly standard entrance defense, requiring attackers to enter single file.  Looking carefully at the walls, he saw the places where the slits for dwarven crossbowmen would be hidden in the engraved designs of the warriors on the walls.

At the end of the tracks was a set of huge double doors, open.

He moved towards them quickly.  The sooner he could get to a defensive position, the better.  If he could find the control room for the entrance defenses, he might even be able to arm them to take care of the troll when it returned, solving his problem.

He slipped through the doors.

And walked into the leg of a second troll.

He remembers looking up, seeing the huge thing turn to look back at him.  He started to stumble backward before he remembered the narrow tracks and chasm behind him.  He was changing his mind and preparing to cast a spell to at least distract the thing when it swung a huge arm down at him, the back of its hand sending him flying across whatever room he was in.

He hit a stone wall with a sickening crunching sound.  He slid to the floor as stars fluttered all around his field of vision.  It hurt to breathe.

The last thing he remembers is the thing approaching – the lips curling back into the ugliest of smiles, the mouth of sharp teeth and massive tusks.

Then his world went black, and he knew nothing more.
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