As they approached the grand hall's imposing double doors, guarded by a pair of stoic dwarven sentinels, the sense of anticipation grew.
"The king is waiting for me," Gorin said.
"And your companions?" a dwarven sentinel asked.
"Them as well."
"And the human."
"Torrum, seriously? You know I changed your diaper when you were just a-"
"L-let them through!" The dwarf shouted.
The doors swung open, revealing a scene of grandeur and authority. The grand hall stretched out before them; its long tables covered the floor as over a hundred dwarves ate from plates of various foods.
At the head of the hall, upon a raised dais, sat the dwarven king, Worthrod. Clad in regal armour, adorned with intricate engravings and gemstones, he exuded an air of power and wisdom. His long, braided beard flowed down to his chest, showcasing his age and experience. Surrounding him were his council members, their expressions mixed with reverence and gravitas.