After what seems an inordinately long wait, the proprietor finally sees fit to trudge down the cellar stair, pausing on the bottom step to hold up his oil-lamp that he might survey the 13-strong company assembled in his cellar for a moment.
"Right," he grunts, "Well, the lot of you should be enough to put the woollies up a half-dozen Snorks. You put the woollies up me!"
He pushes his way through the crowded cellar, his small yellow flame causing shadows to jaunt between shafts of light. Near the far end he reaches a large, horizontal barrel, and spends a moment huffing to unlatch the lid, which then swings aside to reveal a 3ft diameter tunnel within.
"This is you," he says, grimly, his suspicious eyes searching for any sign of trouble. "If ye return this way, the catch here will release the door," he illuminates a latch on the inside of the tunnel with his lamp. "See that you don't lead any Snorks to my cellar, else we're all done. And don't forget about my share in any loot that comes though here!"
With that, he clambers his way back up the stair, taking the lamp and the light with him. The cellar slowly returns to darkness as the barkeep recedes from view...
the Elf Medium (MV 12", AC 9, HD 1, hp 1/1, AL N) great cloak, lantern
; spells: color spray; scrolls: sleep, sleep, charm person
Hirelings: Georges; torch