JharyOConnah
Explorer
(Sirocco stumbles slightly in the narrow stairwell. Stealth 8)
Surprisingly, even though the bariur clip-clopped, Selythin clanked in his armor, and the little pixie yelped, the snoring from beyond the wooden doorway continued. It was laborious and loud with the quality of a whistling wind erupting into a violent storm every twenty seconds or so and then a soft return to the whistling again. The cycle kept repeating.
It seemed the cautious adventurers were still undetected.
Creeping closer to the slightly open door revealed a small, dimly lit room, about 20 feet by 30 feet long, with a low ceiling and all made of dark stone. A torch sputtered low on the wall. There was a door in on each of the three walls. All had a small barred window and a key-hole. Prison cells, no doubt.
There was a splintered wooden table, barely still standing, in the center of the dank space, and a chair occupied by the snoring fella, who appeared to be a hobgoblin in splint mail, in his cups, as they say. (Drunk.)
An empty jug rolled across the stone floor, kicked by the loudly sleeping hobgoblin guard. He tossed and turned, lying sprawled on the broken table. A ring with four keys dangled from his belt. He grumbled in his sleep.
* * *
Surprisingly, even though the bariur clip-clopped, Selythin clanked in his armor, and the little pixie yelped, the snoring from beyond the wooden doorway continued. It was laborious and loud with the quality of a whistling wind erupting into a violent storm every twenty seconds or so and then a soft return to the whistling again. The cycle kept repeating.
It seemed the cautious adventurers were still undetected.
Creeping closer to the slightly open door revealed a small, dimly lit room, about 20 feet by 30 feet long, with a low ceiling and all made of dark stone. A torch sputtered low on the wall. There was a door in on each of the three walls. All had a small barred window and a key-hole. Prison cells, no doubt.
There was a splintered wooden table, barely still standing, in the center of the dank space, and a chair occupied by the snoring fella, who appeared to be a hobgoblin in splint mail, in his cups, as they say. (Drunk.)
An empty jug rolled across the stone floor, kicked by the loudly sleeping hobgoblin guard. He tossed and turned, lying sprawled on the broken table. A ring with four keys dangled from his belt. He grumbled in his sleep.
* * *