Immersive Ink

ehiker133 wrote:
Desmond draws his sword and braces his shield and prepares for whatever may be beyond the door.

"So... who is going to open the door?" he wonders aloud.

waysoftheearth wrote:
Despite all of Dieter's grunting and swearing and the noise of levering the lockbox out of its door, you can hear the rattle of an ongoing snore punctuated by uncomfortable snorts and gasps every now and then...

tonneau wrote:
As Dieter completes his dismantling of the door and steps back to appreciate his work, Gustave can restrain himself no longer and leaps into action like a coiled spring.

With a gusto-fueled "Ha haaaaaa!", he lays his mailed boot into the remnants of the door.

waysoftheearth wrote:
In it's weakened state, there's no way the door can withstand Gustave's Boot Of Doom, and it flies open with a crash and the splintering of timbers.

As the dust settles and lantern light spills into the dim chamber, a stale odour washes over you and the snoring noise continues. Now that the door no longer baffles the sound, it is in fact quite a racket.

The chamber inside is perhaps 20ft by 20ft; the ceiling is low, and there are apparently no other exits. With are crude furnishings, to the sum of a pallet, a small bed-side desk, a low stool to sit upon, and a pale for waste. Upon the bed is a snoring dwarf in a generally disheveled state with a great black beard.


What now?

tonneau wrote:
Gustave suppresses a smile at the continued efficacy of his limb and instead peers intently at the slumbering form, eventually raising a characteristic brow.

Holding out his shield arm to bar the entrance, he gestures impatiently with the other for Dorgan to come forth, in hope that the dwarf may provide some intelligence on how to deal with this lethargic kinsman.

ehiker133 wrote:
Desmond cautiously enters the room. He and Mondes look around, left and right respectively, checking walls and ceiling for anything unusual before turning their attention to a dwarf who shouldn't be sleeping after that kind of racket.

sulldawga wrote:
Dorgan had planned on keeping a sharp watch behind the party but Gustave's door-knocking forces him to look and see what in all the hells is going on up front.

He peers into the room and...

"It's a dwarf, ye daft fool. Probably charmed or cursed or some such. We don't hibernate like bears. Be on with ya!"

Before he turns back, the dwarf gives Gustave a quick wink.

"Mebbe a little quieter next time, eh friend?"

And with that, Dorgan will return to his centipede scouting.

OOC: Is there anything about the dwarf that Dorgan would notice and find unusual? Something about his clothes or the way he braids his beard?

mushgnome wrote:
Highbough begins looking around the room for a pointy stick to stake the vampire dwarf, muttering, "Not again!" under his breath.

(OOC: what do you think, should we bind him up and take him in for questioning? Maybe he's the craftsman of the golems!)

waysoftheearth wrote:

sulldawga wrote: OOC: Is there anything about the dwarf that Dorgan would notice and find unusual? Something about his clothes or the way he braids his beard?

Dorgan's mouth tightens instinctively. That there is a Guore, no doubt'n it. His pale, mottled skin... the unkempt, wiry black beard (full 'o weevils Dorgan doesn't doubt). 'is long, clammy fingers, and grey hessian shirt... it's clear as day. The stink 'o the whole room is suddenly unbearable.

waysoftheearth wrote:

mushgnome wrote:Highbough begins looking around the room for a pointy stick to stake the vampire dwarf, muttering, "Not again!" under his breath.

(OOC: what do you think, should we bind him up and take him in for questioning? Maybe he's the craftsman of the golems!)

There are no stakes lying about... but come to think on it... the dwarf appears to have an iron manacle about his grubby, bare-footed ankle. Which is attached to the wall adjacent to the bed by a heavy iron bolt. He ain't going anywhere in a hurry.