The plain around the stronghold is most evil and drab in appearance. The sky is gray and filled with sooty clouds. A distant volcano can be seen, and far to the south a glowing river of molten lava moves sluggishly down a slope and out of sight. The air is hot and smells of heated rock and metal. The ground is covered with cinders and sharp rocks that make walking cross-country difficult (and noisy). The area is lit by night with dim red light, both from flaming gases that shoot forth out of the bowels of the earth and from the glow of molten rock.
The pile of lava, slag, and jutting black rock that houses the Hall of Snurre is a steeply rising hill about 300 feet high at its summit. It is difficult to scale. Smoking vents are everywhere, and some of these holes spurt out jets of flame from time to tim
In the center lies the gate
But opening it is sure to vex
Many are the guards who wait
As you go to the middle hex
Randomly sent to find a way
Back to a different iron door
A seventh time and you may stay
And seek the glowing prize no more
You have won old Iggwilv's prize
Her hoarded cache of magic
And freed the one with yearning eyes
Whose lot was hunger tragice.
