With the force of several men, the blade of the giant axe smashed down hard on the trapdoor, as fragments of wooden splinters exploded off in various directions. Again and again it crashed down, until there was but a few pieces attached to the hinges.
“That’s how you open a stubborn door,” said Tumbor, smiling broadly at his achievements.
“Unorthodox, but none the less effective,” replied Melvin, still wriggling his fingers on both hands, making sure they still worked. “I can see why you would have no need for a man of my talents.”
“Talerts!” scoffed Rohlen. “If it were not for my sister’s aid, you would be dead within hours.”
“Shall we not mention the stocks from which we rescued you?” asked Tumbor resting his axe back across his shoulders.
“I never asked to be rescued,” retorted Melvin defencively. “Nor did I ask to join you on your fool’s errand. I wold have been quite content just surviving here.”
He turned his back to the companions, hoping they would abandon him whilst venturing into the dimly lit passageway. Yulien touched him upon his shoulder,
“Shala’s minions roam close. It is only time before they brave entry into Greshfell.”
“She’s right,” added Fraevon. “We must leave here.”
“Well you did mention of more traps,” he said looking to Yulien.
The party stared beyond the shattered trapdoor, and beyond the stone flight of stairs leading down. The section of passageway they could see was lit, no doubt from a torch mounted on the wall somewhere out of view.
“Melvin, Tumbor. You first,” stated Jax. “Rohlen and Yulien centre, Fraevon and I will guard the rear.”
“Any reason he’s with me at the front?” Melvin nodded in the Dwarf’s direction.
“Trust me. If there is anything detrimental to your health, and it can be killed with force, best not be stood in front of an axe wielding pychopath.”
Tumbor simply smiled innocently before decending the first few steps.