*-- Ravenshead Mine --*

     Harithin Scar, of clan Scar, father of Andrick, husband of Grace Mendelheart, shifted the grip on his pick ax and renewed his attack on the solid stone wall ahead of him. The mine was deep, deeper than he had thought it could go. The air was stifling, hot and humid down here, and only the air elementals used by the mages let in any fresh air at all. The tons of rock above and to either side seemed to press in, trying to squeeze out, or crush, the intruders who had dared venture so far. He was not alone down here, far from it in fact.

      A dozen dwarves labored in this side tunnel alongside another dozen humans from Ravenshead. The mine was alive with the sound of picks and shovels hitting stone and dirt. The rumble as carts moved along the tracks that had been laid down in the middle of the main tunnels. It was hard work, back breaking work as a matter of fact, but Scar had found he enjoyed it. Well, not the work itself, but the results. To pull out a new ore, or gem. Something he could use in his next creation as a blacksmith. That he loved. It was what had kept him up here for so long now. The entire summer he had labored, helping the dwarves and people of Ravenshead with rebuilding after the disastrous mine fire of the winter before.

      His work was nearly done though. He had actually been about to head home two days ago, had even sent a letter, through a scribe of course, to his wife that he would be home shortly. Then the new vein had been discovered, and Scar had wanted to see where it had led. Tonight though would be his last night in Ravenshead. The large former Dragon hunter had decided that no matter what, he would be going home tomorrow with the first light. It was time, and beyond time, that he go see his wife and son. Return to his forge behind the Dozing Dragon Inn, and make certain his son and wife were well taken care of.

     "Scar! Look at this!"

      Berin, one of the dwarves that he had formed a good working relationship with over the past few months called from further down the shaft. Wiping his brow, it was as nearly as hot as the flame of a dragon down here, Scar made his way further down the passage towards where Berin was. They worked with loin cloths mostly, the humans that was. The dwarves didn't seem to care one way or the other, and usually worked fully dressed, to their human companion's amazement.

     "What have you there Berin?"

      "See for yourself, we broke through to a chamber of sorts."

      Scar made his way between the gathered dwarves and humans to see what the other dwarf was pointing towards. Lighting was poor at the ends of the tunnels. Berin was right, there was a large crack where he and his group and broken through into a subterranean chamber beyond. Sniffing the air, Scar grunted in surprise as the air coming through that gap smelled fairly fresh. Of course, compared to the bottom of the mine shaft, an outhouse's air smelled fresh. Something on the other side of the crack glinted.

     "Open it wider Berin, let's see what you have here."

      Scar and Berin's group set to work, levering and chopping. Widening the fissure until a thin man could stride through it. A dwarf or Scar, would have to turn sideways and slide through, but it was large enough to move through now.

     Scar and Berin went first. Berin bringing one of the portable lanterns with him, and lighting the area around them. They entered into a large cavern, two hundred feet across, at the least. Scar stopped dead the moment he spotted what lay in the middle of that cavern though, and held up a hand signaling the others to stop. He knew that shape, new the way it glinted in the dim light, the slow breaths. Now that he could smell the air, he knew the scent as well. Very, very carefully he started to back away. Berin had spotted it as well, and was quietly ushering the others back. One of them, a young lad, just growing into his form, tripped and went sprawling on a rock that he had backed up against.

      They all froze, all of them holding their breaths as they stared at the dark shape in the center of the cavern. Scar desperately wanted his swords, his armor, anything. The pick ax in his hands wasn't likely to do much at all against what they were facing.

      The small mountain of scales shifted, slithering across one another as a dark eye opened. Another opened on the other side of the snout, and Scar knew the time for silence was over.

      "RUN!"

      He screamed shoving the youth, almost tossing him, through the split in the wall that led back out into the mine. Berin was a step behind him as Scar forced his form through the split. He felt more than heard the wind rustle as the deep dragon behind him moved. The warm splatter of blood that hit his back, and the cut off scream, told him what had just happened to Berin.

      "Move, the Spirit's take you all! MOVE!"

      They moved, scrambling, tumbling, up the mine shaft towards the car that would winch them to the surface. The alarm was spreading now, a bell was ringing in the distance. Scar ignored it all, turning back towards the split in the rock that they had opened. A dragon's claw, as long as his leg, curled up out of it, and with a yank, the opening grew larger. It would not be long before the beast within was free.

      Scar watched for a moment, wiping the blood and sweat from his skin and hefting the pick ax. There was no other way. If the beast got loose, and he knew what a deep dragon would do, there would be much death and destruction before it was stopped. The BoR would stop it, eventually he knew. His wife would be in the lead in that fight, and his gut clenched as he pictured her facing down this behemoth.

      "Flee, flee, the enemy is upon us." He muttered the old warning in his native tongue that was used when a dragon was spotted. The villages would stream empty at that call. Here though, Ravenshead would be leveled, people would die.

     No.

     No he would not, could not allow such a thing.

     He was, had been, a dragonslayer. The Scar family was held to be the greatest of all in that profession. The calling was heard at birth. With a nod Scar turned his back on the rapidly widening hole. The dragon would be out soon, there wasn't much time.

      "Flee! Flee! The Enemy is upon us!" He yelled at those who had begun to head back towards him. What he was about to do was best done alone. "Go! I will join you on the surface! Tell my wife, I love her and will always watch over her and Andrick! GO!"

      The went. Glancing over their shoulders, but they went. Scar started at the main corridor, taking the pick ax and slamming it into the wooden supports that had been put into place. Again and again, until they tumbled aside. Then he worked his way backwards, towards where the dragon was tearing apart rock in it's bid for freedom. As Scar went he gathered up the kegs of black powder that were used in blasting free more rock. Those he stacked in the middle of the corridor, and once he had destroyed the last of the supports to the main tunnel, he spread powder. Removing the carefully inserted cork in one of the kegs he spread powder everywhere about him. Then another, and another. Until all of them were open and half empty. Then he waited.

      "Come to me BEAST! Come and meet SCAR!"

      The beast roared it's agreement, forcing more and more rock aside, widening the slit until it could barely fit through. Then it squirmed and slithered and forced its way into the side tunnel. It filled it, barely being able to fit at all. Yet it moved forwards, squeezing its form through. Scar snarled at it, and it roared back. He hefted his pick ax as it came, and he could see the mocking look on it's snout.

      "Come beast, come and taste my vengeance against your kind. Come you Worm!"

      It was in range then, huge, a moving wall of scales and talons, it snapped at him and he laughed. Instead of attacking it with the ax, as it expected, he slammed the pick ax downwards. Sending the metal head slipping and scraping against the rocky side of the tunnel. The sparks which jumped from the head leapt upwards and then down in slow motion. A half dozen of them touched the black powder.

      Harithin Scar, of clan Scar, father of Andrick, husband of Grace Mendelheart, vanished in an explosion of rock and flame. The entire tunnel collapsed, burying the dragon and crushing what was not blown apart by the blast. His last thought was of his wife, smiling up to him as he held her on their wedding day. The wind tugging at her hair, and the love shining from her eyes.

      On the surface all that marked what had happened below was a blast of air, and a rising cloud of dust. Then all within was silent and dark.

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