Something wasn't right; Gin moved through the dank tunnels of the old mine, his usually sure steps now tainted by uncharacteristic hesitancy. The familiar pick-etched walls were suddenly feeling foreboding and alien. Gin tried to shake the uneasy feeling, yet there was something niggling on the edge of his senses. He gripped his ever-present pick axe that hung off his corded belt. The familiar feel of its worn wooden handle pushed back the encroaching sense of dread. Gin let out a soft breath he didn't realize he had been holding; he couldn't quite put his finger on what was wrong. He sucked in a his breath as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, a feeling of imminent danger washed over him and he stumbled to a halt . He senses strained staring into the darkened tunnel, although he couldn't detect anything he was certain he wasn't alone.
Gripping his trusty pick, he purposely drew it silently from his belt, its weight balanced comfortably in his hand. Gin was at home in the darkness; he was a miner and spent countless days deep within the constricting rocky tunnels. He silently crouched and closed his eyes trusting his other senses. The faintest movement of air alerted him that someone or something was moving to he left, whoever or whatever it was made no sound. Gin didn't hesitate; his pick axe instantly became a blur of deadly intent, with all his considerable strength he levels his axe at the intruder. The pick bit deeply into flesh and the tunnel exploded to the sound of a savage primal scream.
With a savage twist the Pick was wrenched from Gins hands, the creature barrelled past the startled miner with inhuman speed. Gin was flung to the side and crushed against the rock wall, his breath driven from his body, he slumped to the ground as the screeching creature charged out of the tunnel. Gin's Orcish rage flooded his battered body quelling any and all pain, with a savage bellow he regained his feet and charged after his unseen agitator. He burst out on the mine into the early morning crisp air, scanning his surroundings, the soft light of dawn filtered through the trees. Gin spun around looking in every direction, his rage filled mind unable to find any sign of the creature. Puzzled he scanned his surroundings a second time, nothing, "Where are you!" he bellowed in frustration.
With considerable effort his unclenched his fists and tried to think through his overwhelming rage, "Dam you Creature, fight me!" and for the second time his challenge went unanswered. Looking around he located his bloodied pick, yet where there should be a blood trail there was nothing. He warily grabbed his pick and held it before him. There was no trail no tracks, none of this made a lick of sense. Gin's rage slowly left his body and the pain of his injuries drove him to his knees, he tenderly felt his ribs, and a couple were broken though not badly. The familiar sounds of the forest filled the little glade, whatever it was it was clearly gone now.
Gingerly he stood, pain flaring through his ribs, pressing his hand against his injured side he turned back towards the mine, what was the creature after, his thoughts turning towards his mining partner who was still inside. Gin moved towards the entrance as fast as his battered body would allow, he had to check on Burke , what would some unworldly creature want with Burke. A powerful clawed hand latched onto Gin's face, before he could even register what was happening he was enveloped in leathery wings. He tried to swing his pick however he couldn't move; he looked up only to see deep red eyes and large fangs.