Talking Doorknob

I eat thieves' fingerbones for breakfast and clean my teeth with the lockpicks, buster

Talking Doorknob: fitted to a magically locked door, the doorknob demands a password and bites anyone who tries to open it without one (1d4 damage, no save). Hollers if anyone tries to break its door down. The doorknob has a physical face and mouth - it can be reasoned with, threatened, gagged, and so on.

What Does the Doorknob Want?

1. To stay shut and bite people. Demands a password, then guffaws and bites anyway. It’ll take your finger off, given half a chance.

2. Respect. It is a very important door. Will brag about what’s behind it. Scrupulous about its password.

3. Sympathy. It has a lot of complaints about work hours, compensation, pensions, etc. Willing to open for its password if you insist, but will attempt to delay in order to prolong the conversation.

4. Excitement. A change of scenery and/or employment. Gives broad hints and winks to try and help you with the password, although unable to outright tell you what it is.

5. Sleep. Go away and stop bothering me, I’m so tired...

6. Friends. It’s a tough row to hoe, being a doorknob. One meets so few people. Sympathetic if you don't know the password ("better luck next time, buddy!"), gives fond (and loud) farewells if you do.

Password, Ebenezer?