Room7b
Jora reaches toward the black mirror which engulfs the group. Cold and the disorientation of transition spin them around and deposit them in the center of the rough-hewn room once more.
The mirrors have disappeared as have the doors.
On the ground at Jora’s feet is a pick.
“I guess this really is our only option,” Jora says, hefting the pick.
“Lamia, did you notice where on the wall I was digging in the mirror? I wasn’t paying close enough attention.”
Lamia closes her eyes and concentrates. After a moment she walks up to the dirt wall and traces an X in the dirt with her finger.
“It was here, just to the left of this blue crystal.”
“Thank the Gods, I didn’t want to start digging in the wrong spot and make things worse.”
Jora motions everyone to move back and lifts the pick to his shoulder. He swings the tool against the wall and a clod of dirt falls to the floor.
“That’s not too hard,” He says and swings again.
Dirt rains onto the floor as Jora attacks the wall with the pick. In a matter of minutes, he has created an opening large enough to fit his form and several inches deep.
He pauses and removes his armor and shirt.
“This is hot work,” he says.
Safir offers him a skin of lemon water. He gulps several mouthfuls before returning to his labors.
Jora digs for over an hour and the tunnel is now over ten feet into the earth.
“I think this is actually going to work,” he says.
“Do you want me to spell you for a while?” Conrad says. He and the others have been hauling dirt from the growing tunnel and spreading it around the room.
“No, I’m still doing well and the mirror showed me doing it so let’s not take a chance.”
Jora swings the pick again and a low rumble reaches their ears.
“Did you hear that?”
The others look around but the sound does not repeat.
Jora swings the pick again and the rumble is louder this time. Dirt showers over the group from the ceiling. He feels the pick vibrating in the wall where it is lodged.
“It’s caving in,” he screams. “Run!”
The adventurers drop everything and sprint from the short tunnel back into the room. Dirt showers over them as they run. No sooner has Jora cleared the threshold of the tunnel than it caves in, sealing it.
“That was close,” Conrad says.
The rumbling sound continues to intensify.
“The walls,” Safir screams, pointing.
Cracks radiate out from the edges of the collapsed tunnel across the walls and ceiling. The ground shakes and bucks like an unbroken horse, tossing the youngsters to the ground.
The rumble becomes a roar as the roof collapses burying the groups in tons of dirt and rock, killing them.