Tarl poked through the rubble, all that remained from what had been an animated stone statue, a golem, to assure himself it was truly dead… not that it’d ever really been alive. It was just the latest threat in what seemed like an endless series of near lethal encounters with ghouls and ghasts, magical constructions and gobliniods of all descriptions, from annoying goblins to brutal bugbears, which had plagued them since they entered this subterranean hell. Four days after leaving Silverymoon, they were in the tiny town of Rivermoot, where tales of unusual goblinoid activity led them north along the Surbrin river, into the area around Mithral Hall. They thought they’d gotten lucky catching the trail of a score of bugbears in the foothills near the dwarven stronghold, but quickly learned that they’d been lured into what turned out to be a seemingly endless maze of underground passages and chambers, when their escape was sealed off by a massive stone deadfall. Now, having spent an unknown toll of days in the hellish labyrinth they were running low on both supplies and hope. “I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being led somewhere,” Nykira observed as the companions took a moment to rest and determined their best option. They’d reach a yawning chasm that fell off into unknown depths, with what appeared to be navigable tunnels to the left and right, as well as a roughly hued bridge that spanned the void and where another tunnel awaited. “It almost seems like someone is testing us.” “That’s some cruel test lass,” Tarl grumbled with a heavy sigh. Even his usually jovial disposition was waning in the aftermath of so many battles. “You fail… you die!” “If we’re being tested… a don’t think I want to know why,” Galen observed, as he sank heavily down to the solid stone floor, his back against the wall. Casting spells drained his energy just as readily as combat tired the others, and his was rapidly becoming depleted. “I don’t know about being tested, but we’re definitely being led somewhere. At every possible turn we’ve been forced to deeper into the mountain.” Aeron announced soberly, wrapping his arms around Nykira to gently hold her. “Someone… or something… is directing these attacks and it clearly wants us somewhere specific… if we survive long enough to get there. I’m sure if we try either of the side passages, we’ll be forced back here to cross the bridge and head that way,” he pointed across the chasm. “Most likely under fire or being pursued by something worse than that thing,” he motioned to the ruble remains of the golem. “Then there’s nothing for it,” Tarl snorted with a huff. “If were going to be forced straight ahead anyway, why not just face facts and meet whatever is there head on.” “There’s someone there,” Faeryl declared, she’d moved to the foot of the bridge, her darkvision allowing her to see into the abject blackness in the tunnel on the other side of the fifty-foot chasm. Though dwarves also possessed darkvision, the opening was just at the edge of Tarl’s sight, while she could see twice as far. Their attention drawn to the darkened maul, even Aeron and Galen, who lacked any form of enhanced vision, could make out a dark figure moving in the shadows.