The two-headed wolf and the two-headed raven (on the signet ring and the coats of arms) made me think that the folks in this place were taking the old addage about "two heads are better than one" a little too seriously. I began wondering if the next place we journey to would have three heads per beast.
My wondering was interupted by a rattling sound at the door of the room. Everybody froze, stopped humming, and several of them reached for their weapons. I quietly floated over to the rattling door, ready to poof if necessary. My keen hearing told me that a fleshy hand was jiggling the door latch and checking to see if it was still locked. A male humanoid voice spoke english -- sort of -- more like Olde English, or maybe Middle English with a colloquial lilt, and a slight lisp -- or maybe he was chewing on a sandwich, ham on rye, or corned beef on whole wheat. I hope my hearing improves as I get better at this, because I prefer the corned beef on whole wheat (with dijon and lettuce) to anything on rye.
The door jiggler and his silent companion let go of the door latch and walked away -- across a stone floor, wearing heavy leather boots, jingling metal sounds (probably chain mail). He commanded "Forward Harch!" and at least twenty pairs of boots started harching. The sounds faded a little before disappearing completely behind the sound of a pair of heavy wooden doors.
"All clear!" I announced, and several blue faces decided to breathe again.
I checked the door. It was still locked. I examined the lock. It was too complicated for my simple lockpicking skills, but I tried anyway just for practice.
"We're gonna need a key" I finally concluded.
