The group quickly scrambles into the hole, behind him; Erin slips, and lands heavily on him, and the rest make their way in in a hurry, causing a fair amount of noise.<br/><br/>To one side of the room they landed in, the long room contains a large number of crates, bags, salvaged lumber, and food. A cot lies amid the stored goods, a small lantern sitting on a nearby crate. On the other side, though, a voice comes out of the darkness. "Who's making all that racket?!" Thick layers of animal hides insulate this room’s walls. In one corner rests a ragged bed draped with threadbare silks and thick furs. On the floor, three stout chests serve as furniture, cluttered with empty liquor bottles. A few more bottles lie scattered about the floor, leaving the room reeking of stale alcohol.<br/><br/>Rising from the bed, a filthy-looking man, dressed in leather armor, with a stag's skull on his head as a helmet, staggers to his feet, grabbing his bow. "Who the fuck are you?" he snarled, reaching for his arrows, as well.