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[Tack]

The "bridge" is narrow and sways gently. Clearly a hateful little piece of timber.

"Ah, of course. I should've known from your sword."
He says, in a mocking tone of voice.

Larok makes it across without much more trouble. 46

[SOLDIER First]

"Yes, you should have."
..that was lost on him, apparently.

[Tack]

"Sword-carrying people do enter the city on other business, you know."
He gives a sideways glance as the other two cross the bridgelet.
"Sometimes the more troublesome and illegitimate kind."

The group begins to move forward.
"Do you mind if we take the ladder coming up? The next stairs will require us to double back."

[SOLDIER First]

Larok grunts.
"Feh. Thieves are cowards.
No, you may. The ladder is fine."

[Tack]

"Ah, an Ogre of honor, I see"

Larok comes to a series of stone indents cut into the harsh granite of the cliff face.
The first two humans follow the same routine, nimbly scrambling up.
This "ladder" mirrors the bridge in appearing not overly welcoming to ogres.

[Tack]

Larok = [Touched a Nerve](2)
OOC Thread

"Hey there...that was real nice of you, helping out a stranger like that. Whaddaya say I get you a drink?"

"Thank you. I do have to say the only drink I have eyes for is tea. And, occasionally, black coffee."
"I am Al-Safi Nabih and this is Ghaminia."

"A pleasure."

[SOLDIER First]

Larok grunts again but climbs the ladder anyway. He's as cautious as before.

[Tack]

The group walks another little way along the cliff face before coming to a guardhouse. There is a blue lantern lit above the door, and two men stationed out front.
The talkative man calls to them.
"Got a guest for the overnight. Should be gone around dawn"
One pipes up: "Bloody hell sarge, he'd have trouble enough fittin' in the cell!"
The group ushers Larok inside.

[Notice=4]
[Empathy=0]
The room is quite brightly lit, given the hour. One of the rear corners is given over to a small cell, with cramped bed and fresh blankets. The other houses a set of stairs going further into the cliff. There is a single barred window in the front of the building, through which the last lingering mists of the waterfall barely seep through, carried on cool winds.
At the very back of the room lies two rows of six lockers, all without name or initial, although a few adorned with a rare padlocks.
The rest of the floor space is occupied by desks, most of stone but some of wood, only one of which is occupied.
The man lounging at the desk wears a single shiny epaulet casually stuck onto the right shoulder of his open shortcape. On his desk lies a tin badge. His features, in the light, seem to resemble that of the crudely-accented corporal who led you here.
You cannot really get a read on anyone.

[SOLDIER First]

Larok steps into the cell, ducking considerably in the doorway, and sits on the bed. The whole thing looks rather awkward, as it is.

[Tack]

"Not drunk. Not bleedin'. Why?"
"He didn't wanna get drunk. Sarge didn't wanna get bleedin'"
"I told him we'd leave the door open, if that's alright?"
With just me here? Lookit him. I won't sleep a wink.
"Wait, you sleep whils- "Like the bars would stop 'em anyway."
"Just Lookit the lug"
"Great, corp. Now I sure as fuck ain't sleepin'"
"Again, you Really shouldn't be sl-" "Oy, Big man."
"Bet you a week's wages you couldn't bust that cage open."

[SOLDIER First]

"The cage or the door?"

[Tack]

Larok is given a nonchalant shrug in reply.

[SOLDIER First]

"Hrm.
Door it is."
He stands up and shuts the cell's door.

[Tack]

The deskholder stands up, locks the door, and then stands off to the side before giving Larok a nod.
[Physique=9] (8)
Success. _{^{Gods save us all.}}

[SOLDIER First]

Larok steps back from the door, then slams bodily into the door, shoulder-first.
The lock snaps and the door smashes open.