To Tumbor, the mine tunnel was a thing of exquisite beauty. He understood the days, months, years of pure physical toil it would have taken to chip away at the very fabric of the mountain in order to make it relinquish its hidden bounty. Every pick mark, every rut, a story pertaining to one of his kinsmen’s life story.
To the others, it was a monotonous journey through the mountain, one they seemed to have been walking for hours. That was until Tumbor suddenly stopped several feet ahead of them.
The dwarf never just stopped, not without good reason. Fraevon instinctively notched an arrow into his bow, as Jax readied his sword. Edging closer to where the dwarf stood, axe in hand, they began to see that which caused Tumbor to stop.
Zombies, dozens of them, all meandering aimlessly in the semi darkness.
“Can we take them?” asked Jax, a sense of concern in his voice. “There are a fair few of them.”
“Easily,” said Rohlen with a gleeful smile.
“Without blowing up the tunnel and risk bringing the mountain down on top of us!”
“Time to find out,” added Tumbor as he let out a deafening battlecry, and charged.