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52
For a moment you stand pondering the strange question. You look about the room for a possible clue to the answer but decide flattery may be the best response.
"With an axe of such craftmanship at my side", you reply, "I will strike the beast down and rend the life from its foul form. Your iron blade will part its flesh and it will fall".
"No", the axe responds in a deeper voice, "I cannot be used in that way. The death of the serpent lies beyond my capacity alone. For that you need weapons of even greater power. I must wait for a warrior who can appreciate my proper use. Go now or you will surely die!"
With that the snow storm erupts again. Ice and snow billows up from the floor with such ferocity that you are forced back against the wall; you must escape the room quickly or perish in its cold violence.
As you turn to the door you see dimly through the darkness and the snow the frozen form of a great Hresh crouched by the doorway, a spiked mace raised as if ready to strike whoever was to walk through. Just as you force your way back out through the door you wonder whether the mace had been meant for you.
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