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<blockquote data-quote="Uriel" data-source="post: 1389255" data-attributes="member: 8222">Moving quickly through the Gates and along well-lit passageways, you are taken up and up still, stairs falling behind you and weariness in your already tired legs becoming a heavy thing for you all. Finally, you are pointed through a door some six long flights up, this leading out onto a passage lined with suits of plate armor, each wielding weapons of the most exquisite Dwarvish manufacture. At the far end of the passage stands a closed door, it's oak surface embossed with iron studs, it's knockers built to look like dwarvish faces; ring-handles protruding from the mouths.In front of the doors stand four dwarves. Two are Guards, dressed in boar-faced helms and plate, hands gripping their Waraxes warily, their eyes scanning the surrounding area. Another dwarf is near, this one dressed in purple hose and a well mannered suit of black, a bejewelled hat atop his head, his beard a long and grey affair.An old Dwarf in blue robes stands near, his bearing noble and proud, his eyes upon the object before him.The Dwarf looks haggard, his beard unkempt and his eyes full of sorrow, despite his bearing. This, no doubt, is the Lor of Stonepike. One of your escorts whispers into Rurik's ear that the black-suited Dwarf is the Chamberlain, he who sent for you.All eyes turn to you as you approach.Before the four Dwarves lies a tattered form upon the flagstones.Once this may have been a living beng, a proud and stalwart warrior in the service of his Leige. Now, armor is torn from his body,pieces flung across the hall. Great slashes and tears cover the lifeless form. A broken Waraxe lies nearby, the shaft split. Of the dwarf's head, their is no sign...</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Uriel, post: 1389255, member: 8222"] Moving quickly through the Gates and along well-lit passageways, you are taken up and up still, stairs falling behind you and weariness in your already tired legs becoming a heavy thing for you all. Finally, you are pointed through a door some six long flights up, this leading out onto a passage lined with suits of plate armor, each wielding weapons of the most exquisite Dwarvish manufacture. At the far end of the passage stands a closed door, it's oak surface embossed with iron studs, it's knockers built to look like dwarvish faces; ring-handles protruding from the mouths. In front of the doors stand four dwarves. Two are Guards, dressed in boar-faced helms and plate, hands gripping their Waraxes warily, their eyes scanning the surrounding area. Another dwarf is near, this one dressed in purple hose and a well mannered suit of black, a bejewelled hat atop his head, his beard a long and grey affair. An old Dwarf in blue robes stands near, his bearing noble and proud, his eyes upon the object before him.The Dwarf looks haggard, his beard unkempt and his eyes full of sorrow, despite his bearing. This, no doubt, is the Lor of Stonepike. One of your escorts whispers into Rurik's ear that the black-suited Dwarf is the Chamberlain, he who sent for you. All eyes turn to you as you approach. Before the four Dwarves lies a tattered form upon the flagstones. Once this may have been a living beng, a proud and stalwart warrior in the service of his Leige. Now, armor is torn from his body,pieces flung across the hall. Great slashes and tears cover the lifeless form. A broken Waraxe lies nearby, the shaft split. Of the dwarf's head, their is no sign... [/QUOTE]

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