The guards didn't seem to mind him throwing snark at them. A shame, he would've loved to ask them the good old "Well have you been in the stonemasonry scene for the last century, have you?" A reeeal shame. As the dwarf was making his way to the door, the smaller human of the cell passed him and Travok could swear the man said something to him... was it something about sticking with them? Well, they had been here for longer so it would certainly be an option.

The amount of other volunteers surely was higher than he had thought, but maybe these people would rather see what was going down there rather than rot in this pungent trap. He couldn't blame them. As for him, well, the stonework was quite shoddy to his eye, evidently hastily done. Do it well or don't do it at all was the dwarven way and if at all possible he'd like to see that done. And perhaps there would be a way out out there?

Travok clutched his Arcane Focus under his beard. Technically, he had the might of the slumberer at his fingertips... before he had the chance to realise any thoughts of utilizing it though, a disembodied voice gurgled within the confines of his mind: [i]"I̢t ҉w҉o͝u̕l͘d̴ ̢be͏ b͏est́..͘. t͡o l͟et͝ ̡those ̷t̷h͘ou̸gh̢ts͢ be̕.̛.̛. f͠or͜ no͘w̢.͠.̵."[/i]. That was enough to change his mind, so he chose to simply follow the man who had spoken to him.