Chapter #6Time to crack some skulls by: Slaad11   You hear footsteps outside your door.
“You can have your little smithing hammer back; I made a new one that’s the proper size and weight! And I hope you got food, because I’m starving!” You call out gruffly as you approach door with the smithing hammer in one hand and the new mace in the other. You try to consciously ignore the adrenaline coursing through your system. You hear the latch slide and then the door swings open much too fast. There are two figures in the doorway, one is a mindflayer and the other is a troll.
“AAAARGH” You roar as you realize that you are both outsmarted and outmatched. You desperately throw the smithing hammer right at the mindflayer’s head. The troll tries to reach out and deflect it, but misses as the hammer flies perfectly toward its target, making a little rapid whooshing sound.
The flying hammer strikes the illithid right in the forehead with a nice loud “thunk”. It staggers back, stunned from your lucky blow, as the hammer clatters to the ground.
The troll swipes at you with the back of his hand, but you duck, spin, and send your improvised mace crashing into his leg. There is a satisfying crunch and the troll stumbles on his completely shattered knee. You swing the mace back, knocking the troll’s grasping hand away from you, and then you bring it down on his head as he bends low from stumbling. Another satisfying crunch resounds as you bury the heavy twisted chuck of iron into the troll’s skull. The troll collapses the ground.
You know that trolls regenerate, but you also see that the mindflayer looks like it might be recovering. You scream another battle cry and charge forward, catching the mindflayer in the ribs just as it was about to straighten up. A second blow to the tentacled head has the desired fatal effect and it slumps down, unable to live without the bits of brain matter that are now logged in the bloody twisted chunk of iron.
There is no time to waste. You reach down and grab the smithing hammer from the floor, and then run back into the room, dropping the mace for now. A brief search yields a flat piece of scrap metal that is wide on one end and sharp on the other. You hold the sharp end on the back of the troll’s neck as it tries to get up from the ground, its bashed head already growing back like a dry sponge filling itself with water. You then hammer the back of the scrap metal like a wide chisel and, in about four or five very pissed-off blows, you sever the troll’s head from its neck. The body slumps back to the floor, twitching.
“Let’s see ya grow THAT back you son of a bitch!”
Panting for breath, but elated, you drop the metal plate, tuck the smithing hammer into your belt, and grab your mace. Just to be safe, you grab the troll’s head and toss it into the glowing sputtering hot forge, grunting with satisfaction as it bursts into flames. You leave the workshop now, ready to beat down anything else that gets in your way.
There are two directions to take in the passage outside the workshop…
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