Light on his feet as he was, Dave certainly couldn't hear himself moving; that was as accurately as he could gauge his success.  He picked out one of the doors whose hinges didn't look too rusty, near the corner of the warehouse, and cracked it open.<br/><br/>His view of the interior was limited, but at least there weren't many walls to get in the way.  He could see several old-looking crates scattered around, some splintered or outright broken, but more obvious were the minotaurs: one was just climbing to its feet amid several broken shards of wood, snorting angrily, but it didn't look particularly hurt by the fall it had just taken.  A couple other minotaurs were visible off to the side, and one was yelling something in a deep voice at the fallen minotaur and (presumably) whatever had put it down, but it was all Greek to Dave.<br/><br/>The creatures were easily eight feet tall, powerfully muscled and covered in snow-white fur, with bull-like heads topped with wicked-looking horns.  The minotaur who was shouting held a large double-bladed axe in one hand, but the fallen minotaur was unarmed.  None of the minotaurs he could see seemed to have noticed the door opening yet.<br/><br/>He couldn't actually see what had knocked the first minotaur down, but the others watching didn't look particularly alarmed.