You descend the stairs, with Ragnor in the lead and Horrence and Fodd at his shoulders. As you anticipated, the stairs do not extend particularly far, the smooth dwarven worked stone to your right and left culminating in an arch just ahead of you, through which you cautiously emerge. Beyond, you find yourself in a chamber about the size of a middling inn's common room, pentagonal in shape. It appears to be a hub of some kind, with four other arches entering it, one from each wall. The floor is comprised of smaller stones than the walls, but of equally fine craftsmanship and laid in a pattern of overlapping squares. Above, the ceiling is comprised of a dense metal mesh above which you can hear the slow movement of some arcane or mechanical device which appears to be refreshing the air, which tastes fresh if a tad metallic.
Immediately opposite where you descend from the east, a faint smuggler's lantern casts a diagonal beam of light in your direction. It is held by a slight figure, perhaps five foot in height and of very thin build wrapped in a cloak of grey rags, including a hood that obscures its features. Behind it, you can just about make out the silhouettes of two others, standing perhaps ten feet back and similarly wrapped in rags and discarded clothing. These carry what look like shields and spears, though you are too far and the light too dim to gauge their quality. The three do not appear hostile, though the two with visible weapons are tense, scanning every entrance constantly as if on the lookout for a sudden attack.
Horrence takes a further step towards them, but still keeping a decent distance and says:
"Whatcha my dear fellows. I hope you don't mind, but if you're looking for a fight, I'm pretty old and have already had quite enough for one day. Thing is, we are in a bit of a hurry to get out of here so perhaps we can totter along and all that what what?!"
Horrence, your pronouncement is met with initial silence. The figure closest to you tilts its head, as if struggling to follow your rapid speech and peculiar mannerisms. After a long moment it reaches down and adjusts its lantern, dimming the light somewhat so that it doesn't shine at you quite so brightly.
It steps forward, raising its empty hand in a pacifying gesture. Despite your gnomish and dwarven darkvision Corryn and Ragnor, you are unable to make out its features beneath the hood.
When it speaks, you are taken aback by its voice which is high pitched and inhuman, with a squeaky nasal intonation.
No fight, no fight! You come from surface, yes yes? Yet not masked-Ministry, I think. Our ears hear hear battle above, much fighting. Perhaps you are here sneak sneak?
As it speaks it twitches its head, tilting left and right in rapid, jerking motions.
"Oh well, erm... jolly good then!" says Horrence, somewhat relieved, "Yes indeed- we are from the surface, but not from the Ministry. Ran into a spot of bother up there though, some kind of guardian orbs or whatnot. Not sure about sneak sneak, but certainly quick quick if you catch my drift!"
He pauses a bit and then adds "Oh- how rude of me. My name is Professor Horrence Mattiford, as your service and all that, these are my companions. May I enquire who you are?"
The figure listens to your rapid speech carefully, head cocked to the left as if attempting to parse unfamiliar words. When you finish the introduction, it sketches a clumsy bow, sweeping an arm in imitation of behaviors it has clearly never been taught and only seen from a distance.
Prof-e-ss-or.
It sounds out, the last syllable rising and both 'r's being largely consumed.
It is honor to meet-meet. I am Sofa, Surface-Crawler of Clan of Sishkin.
The figure pronounces its name "Shofah" and you believe you detect the faintest hint of the feminine in its voice, though you cannot be sure. It indicates the two figures behind it, gesturing to each with a jerk of its lanterns.
"Krif and Kaloo, Tunnel-Watchers and Clan-Brothers, yes yes?"
For Corryn (Passive Perception):
You study the figures carefully, blending into the background somewhat as the more ostentatious Horrence takes the lead. Your gnomish eyes piece the darkness easily and your experienced gaze sweeps for anything unusual. You are therefore able to catch, just for a heartbeat, the flickering movement of a flickering hairless tail swishing momentarily out of the rear of Kaloo's rags and cloak, before slithering back out of sight just as quickly.
"Well good fellows, it is a pleasure to meet you" says Horrence, oblivious to the fact that he should be speaking more simply. "I'll tell you what, given that we can expect a bit of both from the Ministry any time soon, perhaps you can help guide us somewhere where we can all get better antiquated - what?!"
He turns to the rest of the group and says "I mean- assuming I'm not being too presumptuous, but I rather think them better company that the Ministry don't you say?"
Ella is twitching up to her toes and bouncing back on her heels, anxious to move forwards but stuck behind others. She glances to check that Mika's following, but nods - pinch-faced. "Let's move on."
Shofah listens intently as you converse among yourselves, while her two companions wait with increased impatience and nervousness, their cowled heads turning to stare down each of the three tunnel entrances in turn. As a consensus seems to form, Sofa beckons you to follow and turns, quickly issuing commands to Krif and Kaloo in a language none of you understand.
Krif hunches low and scurries silently off down the southwest tunnel, spear and shield held away from his body to avoid the clink of wood or metal on flesh. Kaloo falls in next to Sofa and together they follow at a slower pace, also making some effort to move with silence. As the smuggler's lantern is turned away, those of you without darkvision are plunged into darkness, with only the beam of light from the lantern ahead and the faint light from the tavern basement above providing any illumination.
Come come, honored surface walkers. We shall walk-walk fastest paths, yes? The Sishkin undermarket is hidden, even from Ministry. Perhaps you buy? Perhaps you trade? Maybe just look look?
We must move quietly though, yes yes? Not alone here in tunnels. Ministry Hounds, other clans, hated dwarven clanking creations. I will guide-guide but nothing is certain, and noise travels far far in echoey halls. Much better to be silent and unseen. Yes yes?
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"Clanking creations you say, well they sound rather fascinating. I would love to see one up close.... though err... perhaps after a good kip and a tot of something warming!"
Seeking them begin to move quietly he ducks down to try and also move quietly [Stealth check: 12 ] and whispers "So this Shishkin market you say... is this your errmmm, town?"
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You descend the stairs, with Ragnor in the lead and Horrence and Fodd at his shoulders. As you anticipated, the stairs do not extend particularly far, the smooth dwarven worked stone to your right and left culminating in an arch just ahead of you, through which you cautiously emerge. Beyond, you find yourself in a chamber about the size of a middling inn's common room, pentagonal in shape. It appears to be a hub of some kind, with four other arches entering it, one from each wall. The floor is comprised of smaller stones than the walls, but of equally fine craftsmanship and laid in a pattern of overlapping squares. Above, the ceiling is comprised of a dense metal mesh above which you can hear the slow movement of some arcane or mechanical device which appears to be refreshing the air, which tastes fresh if a tad metallic.
Immediately opposite where you descend from the east, a faint smuggler's lantern casts a diagonal beam of light in your direction. It is held by a slight figure, perhaps five foot in height and of very thin build wrapped in a cloak of grey rags, including a hood that obscures its features. Behind it, you can just about make out the silhouettes of two others, standing perhaps ten feet back and similarly wrapped in rags and discarded clothing. These carry what look like shields and spears, though you are too far and the light too dim to gauge their quality. The three do not appear hostile, though the two with visible weapons are tense, scanning every entrance constantly as if on the lookout for a sudden attack.
Horrence takes a further step towards them, but still keeping a decent distance and says:
"Whatcha my dear fellows. I hope you don't mind, but if you're looking for a fight, I'm pretty old and have already had quite enough for one day. Thing is, we are in a bit of a hurry to get out of here so perhaps we can totter along and all that what what?!"
G
Horrence, your pronouncement is met with initial silence. The figure closest to you tilts its head, as if struggling to follow your rapid speech and peculiar mannerisms. After a long moment it reaches down and adjusts its lantern, dimming the light somewhat so that it doesn't shine at you quite so brightly.
It steps forward, raising its empty hand in a pacifying gesture. Despite your gnomish and dwarven darkvision Corryn and Ragnor, you are unable to make out its features beneath the hood.
When it speaks, you are taken aback by its voice which is high pitched and inhuman, with a squeaky nasal intonation.
As it speaks it twitches its head, tilting left and right in rapid, jerking motions.
"Oh well, erm... jolly good then!" says Horrence, somewhat relieved, "Yes indeed- we are from the surface, but not from the Ministry. Ran into a spot of bother up there though, some kind of guardian orbs or whatnot. Not sure about sneak sneak, but certainly quick quick if you catch my drift!"
He pauses a bit and then adds "Oh- how rude of me. My name is Professor Horrence Mattiford, as your service and all that, these are my companions. May I enquire who you are?"
The figure listens to your rapid speech carefully, head cocked to the left as if attempting to parse unfamiliar words. When you finish the introduction, it sketches a clumsy bow, sweeping an arm in imitation of behaviors it has clearly never been taught and only seen from a distance.
It sounds out, the last syllable rising and both 'r's being largely consumed.
The figure pronounces its name "Shofah" and you believe you detect the faintest hint of the feminine in its voice, though you cannot be sure. It indicates the two figures behind it, gesturing to each with a jerk of its lanterns.
For Corryn (Passive Perception):
You study the figures carefully, blending into the background somewhat as the more ostentatious Horrence takes the lead. Your gnomish eyes piece the darkness easily and your experienced gaze sweeps for anything unusual. You are therefore able to catch, just for a heartbeat, the flickering movement of a flickering hairless tail swishing momentarily out of the rear of Kaloo's rags and cloak, before slithering back out of sight just as quickly.
"Well good fellows, it is a pleasure to meet you" says Horrence, oblivious to the fact that he should be speaking more simply. "I'll tell you what, given that we can expect a bit of both from the Ministry any time soon, perhaps you can help guide us somewhere where we can all get better antiquated - what?!"
He turns to the rest of the group and says "I mean- assuming I'm not being too presumptuous, but I rather think them better company that the Ministry don't you say?"
"The enemy of my enemy is my friend" Fodd offers with a little pride. He's been wanting an excuse to say that for years.
Ella is twitching up to her toes and bouncing back on her heels, anxious to move forwards but stuck behind others. She glances to check that Mika's following, but nods - pinch-faced. "Let's move on."
Shofah listens intently as you converse among yourselves, while her two companions wait with increased impatience and nervousness, their cowled heads turning to stare down each of the three tunnel entrances in turn. As a consensus seems to form, Sofa beckons you to follow and turns, quickly issuing commands to Krif and Kaloo in a language none of you understand.
Krif hunches low and scurries silently off down the southwest tunnel, spear and shield held away from his body to avoid the clink of wood or metal on flesh. Kaloo falls in next to Sofa and together they follow at a slower pace, also making some effort to move with silence. As the smuggler's lantern is turned away, those of you without darkvision are plunged into darkness, with only the beam of light from the lantern ahead and the faint light from the tavern basement above providing any illumination.
She leads you onward down the southwest tunnel.
"Clanking creations you say, well they sound rather fascinating. I would love to see one up close.... though err... perhaps after a good kip and a tot of something warming!"
Seeking them begin to move quietly he ducks down to try and also move quietly [Stealth check: 12 ] and whispers "So this Shishkin market you say... is this your errmmm, town?"