ShŕmmandegIn the long dark halls of Shŕmmandeg, the halls of unfinished stone and ice that lie above the fortress proper, few set foot except the guard. With little outside contact, the dwarves would venture deeper on the rare occasions that they ventured anywhere at all, as riches filled the halls below. Yet the early works remained, devoid of regular use, just below the arctic plane, a vast expanse of frigid white. Among these halls tread iron boots, sparse in number yet thorough in their watch. The chilled, dry air warmed little by the rare torch, dim and devoid of the scent of the feasts below, and yet the guards marched on, their duty to ensure the safety of the rest.
Years passed with little new above, the sieges that could have come routed by the icy plane, until one night the stillness broke, and everything would change. A pair of guards, as it always was, ploding along the frigid tunnel, came across a vast stone door, and tiredly passed it by. It was then that they heard a noise, a faint knocking coming from the other side. Whether freind of foe they readied themselves to confront the source outside. The knocking grew to pounding, and then beyond that too, the hinges holding sturdily, but the latch starting to break. With one last slam, the latch did break, the doors swung open with the force, and on the other side the guards beheld...
(This is left for you to continue. Yes, you. Ther potential writer reading this right now. Disregard any other continuatons and write what *you* feel it must become!)
Continuations:
- Reply #10: Sample oontinuation #1, by Qwertyuiopas
- Reply #11: Sample oontinuation #2, by Qwertyuiopas
- Reply #15: (untitled), by Supermikhail
Edit: Added title.