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This door. It's the same door as before. But the room beyond is . . . He recalls the scene from yesterday — the great flood of filthy, fetid water coming out of a dark, dank tunnel extending unknown miles into the distance, and seemingly infested with giant (and surprisingly tasty) rats. But...

Bierstout's blinding wrath begins to ebb as he looks down on the broken corpses of the four dastards, and their growing contributions towards an expanding pool of blood and glue. There's a buzzing in his ears, a muted sense of unease as he realizes that this is the first time he's actually...

"Hold for the time being," Bierstout mutters quietly, not sure if these four humans can understand any language besides the common tongue but hoping they at least don't know Dwarven. "We do not know who they are, and it would be unjust to resort to violence when words would suffice. But be ready...

It takes Bierstout a moment to understand what's going on. At first he's confused as to why Varrys and Theodoric would want to help men who had just insulted and threatened them — if any human called him stubby-limbs or barrel-trunk he'd knock the bold bastard down with a swift punch to the...

Though he wracks his brains for any scant bits of information he can recall on what this "M-A-M" organization can be, Bierstout manages to come up with nothing. He's sure that if he's ever run into them before then he would have remembered them given their extremely loud and distinct appearance...

Not feeling at all sanguine about the rather lacking enthusiasm of some of the other members of their little group, but unwilling to stomach any more delays to their next explorations, Bierstout mutters unintelligibly to himself as he finishes checking the horses' harnesses and gives the cart a...

"Ah signed a contract with tha great Gambledore, an' assepted his gold," Bierstout counters, beginning to wax vexed at the disrespect shown to the venerable wizard and to their undertaken quest. "An' so did all'ah ye. An' ah dinnae intend ta go back on me word an' honor, jus' because'o'ah little...

"Cocks?" Bierstout is momentarily confused. He's not sure what phalluses have to do with chickens — or with anything else going on right now. Maybe the girl is less innocent than he thought? But then he remembers that the common-tongue word has a second meaning. "Ah, so it were tha wand that...

Bierstout jumps clear of the rush of water as the glass prison shatters, returning the axe to his back as James rushes forward to assist the flopping and sputtering girl. He's had enough of conjured liquids over the past day, thank you very much. "Jings an' crivvens, lassie!" Bierstout swears...

"Ye gods!" Bierstout exclaims as the tent explodes out and upwards, revealing the young woman trapped in a glass cage and seemingly soaked from the thighs on down, as if she'd wet herself. Seeing the panic on her face as she pounds on the glass, as well as the magic wands doing nothing to help...

"The lass turned intae'a chicken," Bierstout replies, taking it all in stride, "but she got better." He takes out a few pieces of dense goat's-milk cheese and starts toasting them over the fire. Soon their own aroma joins that of the nearly-done meat, creating a mouthwatering scent for the...

Bierstout looks crestfallen as the rooster turns back into a girl. For a brief moment, he'd entertained thoughts of a fried chicken breakfast to fill his growling stomach. Now he was just worried that every time he ate meat it was really a person cursed to take the form of a tasty animal. But...

Bierstout murmurs his thanks as the cantrips remove the filthy liquids from his waterlogged clothing. He thinks hard for a moment how best to answer James, stroking his beard a few times to stir up his brain. "Tha farmhouse seems a bit tae far away for that, but I wouldnae call it impossible...

"Thanks," Bierstout simply says as he accepts James's food. Hardtack, eggs, and cheese are simple but hardy fare, perfect for a hungered dwarf. Next time, he might prepare a traditional Dwarven traveling supper for the group. Surely their human and elvish stomachs could handle it? Remembering...

Bierstout tucks the moneybag into his pouch. No doubt these are the bandit leader's ill-gotten gains, the fruits of violence and rapine against innocent farmers and traders. "I have discovered their stash!" he reports to the others. "I will safeguard it until such time as it can be returned to...

Bierstout sighs in relief as the door closes and the flow of stinking water ceases. "Thank you for your assistance, lizard." He nods to Boris in appreciation as he steps back. Yet despite the gorge that threatens to rise in his throat whenever he takes in a breath, his curiosity is something...

Ye gods! He recoils as much from the rancid stench as the torrential mass of gushing filthy liquid. It's an outhouse! — is the first thought in his head, but outhouses weren't so large nor did they have walkways and gigantic, monstrous rats! He fights to keep his balance — an act aided by his...

The young dwarf sends a quick pitying glance at the puny, stick-like arms of the elvish librarian. Too much time sitting and reading indoors and not enough time swinging a shovel or hammer in the heat it seems. Then he turns the handle with vigor, leans his shoulder into the door, and gives it...

"Curious." He could almost swear that the inside of the house is larger than the outside. "We mustn't be rude, however." His blessed mother had raised him better than that. He knocks on the door again, three times loudly, and waits for any response. If there's still no answer, then he starts...

Hmph. It looks to Bierstout like the two cravens have indeed returned to their camp and, having picked up anything they could carry, have already cut and run. Perhaps he should have given chase immediately, when they were still within wand-shot, instead of celebrating. He reminds himself to look...