He strains his ears, listening to the sounds filtering in from the Bull's side. It's difficult to tell, but Dorian gets the impression that it's movement, something with direction, rather than idle shifting like an animal in a cage.
Good. Good. All right. That's something he can work with.
This time, he doesn't argue – checking is better than simply leaving, obviously – and he limps his way to the opening in the wall. He cups the wisp against his chest again once it flits down to him, dimming the light, and with an abundance of caution, he peers out.
The opening spills out into a hallway – equally as decrepit as the room in which he finds himself – which is to say, there are openings in the ceiling, and a few walls are certainly in need of patching, but otherwise, nothing seems in immediate danger of collapsing. Superior dwarven workmanship, he thinks with a little irony.
The way to the Bull is blocked off by yet another wall, and Dorian curses under his breath, pushing away. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the stench of darkspawn. He can feel spirits pressing against the Veil, drawn here by their curiosity, and he realizes this settlement was likely overrun by darkspawn. He wonders how many died here to draw so much interest.
What a cheerful thing to think about.
"I don't have a way to you yet," he reports, calling back as loudly as he dares. That seems important to say – the yet. "But there's a hallway ahead of me. I'm— I can figure something out."
no subject
Good. Good. All right. That's something he can work with.
This time, he doesn't argue – checking is better than simply leaving, obviously – and he limps his way to the opening in the wall. He cups the wisp against his chest again once it flits down to him, dimming the light, and with an abundance of caution, he peers out.
The opening spills out into a hallway – equally as decrepit as the room in which he finds himself – which is to say, there are openings in the ceiling, and a few walls are certainly in need of patching, but otherwise, nothing seems in immediate danger of collapsing. Superior dwarven workmanship, he thinks with a little irony.
The way to the Bull is blocked off by yet another wall, and Dorian curses under his breath, pushing away. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore the stench of darkspawn. He can feel spirits pressing against the Veil, drawn here by their curiosity, and he realizes this settlement was likely overrun by darkspawn. He wonders how many died here to draw so much interest.
What a cheerful thing to think about.
"I don't have a way to you yet," he reports, calling back as loudly as he dares. That seems important to say – the yet. "But there's a hallway ahead of me. I'm— I can figure something out."