DM: Stealth

Gryffin hears the familiar sounds of evil goblin laughter and feels his fingers itch to cast a spell but remembering the promise to Gogmurt calms down.

"I guess we better keep avoiding the goblins...and go through the quiet door … although nothing guarantees that they won’t lynch us when we're found out."

Gryffin muttered the last to no one in particular.

Guy and Rhonna nod their heads in agreement. The three then turn towards Arao and Lloyd for their decision.

“To the other doors then…” The half-elf concludes and leads the party towards the other southern door; away from the source of the laughter.

Gryffin clicks open the simple lock mechanism, and pushes aside the door. Lloyd barges to… nothing.

A short corridor stretches forward for about twenty feet or so, before turning to the west.

Gryffin moves to one side, letting the half-elf back through. The young half-elf edges forward, motioning for his companions to hold back. He pads forward silently, stopping at the bend of the corridor, and leans his back against the wall. Slowly he flicks his head round for a peak, taking only he merest of glances.

He turns to his group, motions them forward. They file in behind him. He whispers to them.

“Five doors; all closed. Gryffin and I are going to go and listen at them. You guys wait here until I call you.”

With that the two are off moving again, silently towards the doors.

*

Gryffin and Lloyd try out the left most door. The door swings open effortlessly, unlocked. The bedroom within is empty. It has a faint, musty odor. The bed is covered with matted grey and black hair, and bloodstains mar the stone floor. A morbid stack of bird's feet lie heaped on the floor by the side of the bed.

A quick search around the room seems to suggest that this may have been the living quarters of one of the goblins of Thistletop. The room is bereft of comforts or mementos. There are a few additional scraps of stinking clothing, and a couple of sheets of… skin… under the bed. You pull these out and see that they appear to be the stretched, dried parchment of faces, cut from the skulls, and allowed to dry and twist like leather.

Meanwhile, as the two are searching, and remarking amongst themselves on the horrors of the room, the rest of you hear a creaking from the door behind you.

Guy, Rhonna and Arao all turn around...