Chapter 3: The Enemy Within

[Jeff]

Chapter 3
The Enemy Within

Zor (i.e. Thurs.), the 5th of Rhaan 998 YK

Fairly early in the morning, Ralsor rouses everyone. You'd prefer another hour or two of sleep, but you've already gotten more than you've had for some time. Once the group has gathered—the gnome, Narfieh, seems quiet but alert, drinking in her surroundings and seeming to make a study each person—Ralsor leads everyone to the top deck.

The morning is bright, the sky almost cloudless and pleasantly blue. The green of the Duskwood forest lies below, a massive stretch of forest. The southwest, you can see the glimmer of Lake Galifar, and the western horizon is the verdant colors of the Eldeen Reaches.

"Breakfast is coming. But first, you get the quick tour." Ralsor gathers everyone around. "I don't know how long your fate is going to mess with mine, but under the assumption that it'll be for a while, I wanted you to at least know your way around the ship. I'm Captain, so whenever something concerning my ship happens, I'm in charge. If I tell you to go somewhere or stay out of somewhere, I need you to know what I'm talking about."

"I'm going to assume none of you know anything about ships. The truth is, airships have only a few things in common with sea ships, so I want you to learn which way is which."

Ralsor points to the front of the ship. "No matter which way this ship faces, that's the fore, or bow." He points to the rear of the ship. "And that's aft, or the stern. So if I ever say, 'Kalarian, jump off the stern,' I don't want to see our Deneith friend leaping to his death at the front of the ship. Got that?" The half-elf winks, seeming in remarkably good spirits considering he's a fugitive from his own house and the Passage authorities.

He turns, facing the fore, and points to the "right" side of the ship. "That's starboard." He spins to face the other direction, his viridian coat swirling in the wind. "And that's port. Learn them, or when our enemies attack us—which is inevitable, I'm sure—I don't want to see you fighting the open air on the wrong side of the ship."

Ralsor points to the section of "building" closer to the fore, which so far you've seen him access as a storage room. "That's the forecastle." He points to the other "building" where the wheelhouse is. "That's the sterncastle. Easy enough?"

He leads your group over to the starboard side and points at the large wood-and-metal arches that reach out from various points on the ship. "These are binding struts, part of the very complex matrix that binds the air elemental to this ship. Don't touch them, ever. Even I prefer not to—though I need to get me an artificer to maintain them. If you see an enemy ever attacking the struts, kill them. If these ever break....at best, we'll be 'dead in the water,' floating in the air without propulsion. That's what the elemental is for, after all."

The ring of churning air is almost invisible against the bright and blue morning sky, but you can just make out slivers of ice churning in the ring. "Right," Ralsor adds, "And don't ever touch the elemental. She won't like it, and neither will you."

"Does anyone have any questions so far? If not, I'll take you below and show you the rest."

[Joe]

Before the tour even begins, Streko will have unleashed three spells. One is a mending spell on poor Grafth's even more unlucky clothing. The second spell is Healthful Rest, applied to Pel and the third spell is Healthful Rest, applied to Amal.

After the spells begin working their wonders, Streko begins pacing back and forth, muttering to himself and occassionally sneaking glances at his unconscious charges.

"The sooner we get your two up and running, the sooner we will not only get some answers, especially to your mutterings, dear Pel, but also the added firepower we will need to take on this Malov...which reminds me...I really need to remind Kal that the body we dumped over the side might have been the same type of vessel that Malov used previously to communicate with us. He might have the ability to control minds...and that, blessed Olladra, is more than worrisome..."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I should speak with Goran regarding procuring some Eldeen wine. Host preserve me, but I could use a drink right now..."

He straightens up to his full 3'3" height. "Better to face the sun than the shadow, my dear mother used to say..."

He climbs to the main deck to meet with Ralsor and his friends.

[Josh]

On the deck, Grafth receives the mended coat from Streko, thanking him for his help. He swings its bulk over his shoulder for the time being. Feeling slightly refreshed, and awakened further by the mention of breakfast, the shifter listens attentively to Ralsor's words.

Grafth's gait is less stiff than what his comrades would consider usual; something about being out of the city seems to put him at ease, even if they are floating above the ground.

Glancing around at the ship as they move, his eyes meet those of the gnome. He nods to her, vaguely.

[Joe]

Streko notices Grafth's body movements. While they do seem a bit more relaxed, years of Jorasco training take hold. He approaches his shifter friend.

"Perhaps, if you weren't still injured from yesterday's battles, you'd have more of a spring in your step."

Streko will provide Grafth with a cure light wounds spell.
_______________________________________________

Streko gives up his domain spell for this one.

[Jeff]

Amal and Pel sink into a deeper, more relaxing sleep when Streko casts his spells upon them. He feels the divine grace of Olladra—or whatever power it is Vassals of the Sovereign Host believe in—flow through him and into them. Streko's mending spell patches up the worst parts of Grafth's torn coat, but it's still far from perfect.

The healing spell the Jorasco halflings casts on Grafth makes Grafth feel so much better. He has only the slightest of bruises remaining from his pummeling last night. A faint scar from the dragonhawk's razor sharp beak remains beneath his hairy hide.

____________________________


Streko heals Cure Light Wounds and heals Grafth 4 + 2 (caster level) = 6 hit points.
Streko casts Restful Healing twice on Amal and Pel.
Streko casts Mending on Grafth's coat.

[Darren]

When Kalarian rises, he begins to methodically and without thinking fasten the straps around his right leg. Discovering several of them ruined from the blow he suffered during the previous day, he discards the torn straps and fastens the rest, securing the dagger that he always carries within those strips of leather. Rising somewhat stiffly, he makes his way to the deck to join the others.

At Ralsor's joke, Kalarian offers him a low and playful bow, following it up with an equally playful, though somewhat crude, gesture. Kalarian feels a small bit of kinship for the half-elf. "Nice boat," he says with a grin. "Maybe it's time we see about getting those weapons working, hm?"

[Jeremy]

The half-elf has little to say in reply. Mostly because he can see his homeland in the distance. It's just a wee bit distracting.

[Jeff]

"Maybe it's time we see about getting those weapons working, hm?"

"Ahh, of course," Ralsor says. "We'll revisit the subject of 'the ship's defense' in due time, trust me. For now, come with me."

"Come on, friend," Ralsor says to Goran, prodding. "On my ship, you'll have plenty of time to stare at the horizon."

The Lyrandar leads you all down the the stairs located behind the storage room in the forecastle, where you enter the Quarters Deck. (Here is the full-size map of the Thunderhead, but here is a small one for quick reference now.)

Everyone has crammed into the hallway, part of which you're already familiar. "This room," he says, pointing to the first door on the right, "Is where most of you will sleep from here on. There's plenty of room here. As you will have seen already, there's a handful of bunks in each room. When this ship is taking on passengers on the standard Lyrandar routes, then almost every room gets filled and then things get cramped, like on most ships. That's why I'm keeping you here, so we don't have to move you around much. Plus, you can keep an eye on each other; I don't want any mysteries aboard."

"The rest of the rooms on this side of the hallway are for esteemed passengers. The rooms on the left are for officers. Since I'm the captain and you're all my temporary crew, there are no officers just yet, no first mate, and so on. Maybe someday, if my house doesn't confiscate this ship from me." Ralsor points to the room opposite yours. "This is my cabin. Knock before entering."

He leads you all into the chambers on the stern side of the ship. Two rooms house the ballistae—massive swiveling crossbows, complete with seats—which are open to the sky but for a foldable awning for inclement weather. "After breakfast, I'll show you how to work these. But they're in need of repair, and I need to purchase some more bolts." He indicates a wall-mounted quiver, which has only a handful of spear-sized crossbow bolts. "Not going to be easy to find a seller if I'm on the run. But something tells me we're going to want to look into that."

Then Ralsor leads you down the steps—also near the back of the Quarters Deck—to the cargo hold. "I don't want you coming down here unless you absolutely have to. The hold is is for storage only, and I happen to have some cargo that still needs delivering. Most of them aren't very time sensitive. As for what the cargo is....that's none of you business." He smiles, but you can tell he's serious, too.

He opens the door to the larger cargo room and leads you in. It smells mustier thant he rest, of damp wood and other earthen scents. Large, stacked crates dominate the center of the room. On one side of the room are sealed barrels. One of them, open, has a tarp thrown over it. "I have some spare supplies and weapons here, in case of an emergency. But I'll say again: don't come down here unless you absolutely have to. I don't personally own everything you see in here."

"What's in there?" the gnome asks, peeking from the back of the group. She points at the crates in the middle.

Ralsor considers her for a moment. "If you're just going to pester me if I don't tell you, then I'll say you this much: it's a cache of 'art objects' and other relics. Yeah, you might fetch a good price for some of them in the right market, but unless you can sneak away big heavy slabs of stone and sculpture during the night without me noticing, I wouldn't recommend it. They're to be delivered somewhere, and I'm not at liberty to say where under the circumstances." When Ralsor escorts the group outside of the room, he locks the door behind him with a key from his pocket.

Finally, Ralsor brings you before a door right near the center of the Cargo Deck. "This," he says with no hint of humor, "Is the elemental core. If you don't know what that means, that's all the more reason for you to stay away from here. If the core is destroyed, among other things you end up with a likely very angry rampaging elemental."

"Are there any questions?"

[Josh]

"Not really a question, exactly," the shifter says, stepping up. "You'll get no mysteries from me, and I will not pry into the nature of your cargo, but I would appreciate it if you told us about the other passenger aboard this ship."

[Joe]

Streko blinks.

"Who am I missing?" he asks no one quietly. He has kept a watchful eye on every move the Lyrander has made, noting various important locations and objects (such as key in pocket). He also takes time to contemplate what, exactly, might be contained in the "cargo."

He looks up at Grafth, smiles and whispers, "It's nice not to think about death and dying for a moment, although one must conclude that tampering with the Elemental core might lead to such an end."

He turns back to Ralsor, wondering if the helf-elf will answer Grafth's request...

[Jeff]

"You're only seconds ahead of me, sir Grafth," Ralsor says. "But let's start with the one who stands among us and yet isn't part of your party. Miss Valetreash?"

The gnome comes forward, timidly. She still seems to keep her hood on.

"Narfieh Valetreash is my name," she says shyly to the group, eyes mostly on the ground. "I'm a seamstress, only recent come to Passage. I was supposed to...well...meet someone there. It didn't work out. So I'm just trying to get home to Trolanport, back home in Zilargo. I've worked out a deal with Captain Ralsor here to work for my fare the best that I can. I know a few simple spells, I can mend clothing pretty quickly. I know airship travel isn't cheap, but I'll do my best. And I, ummm, well, I don't know what that was all about last night—that dragonhawk and that man—but I'll help you if I can."

"Right, then," Ralsor cuts in. "Let us break our fast and save discussions for later." The half-elf leads you back up to the Quarters Deck to the foremost room, a wedge-shaped room with a single long table in the middle: the dining area.

The dark-haired young woman that Grafth and Kal saw yesterday stands here. Today she wears a gray dress offset by a red sash. She looks upon you as you enter, resentment and disapproval clear upon her otherwise pretty face.

"Gentlemen," Ralsor says with a hint of swagger in his voice. "This is Misha. She's my, umm, culinary specialist here." Misha nods stiffly, all the greeting she offers.

The central table is laden with various foods: hardbreads, an assortment of cheeses, sausages, even freshly cooked eggs. The smell is wonderful. Tangat noses his way to the front of the group, panting and wagging his tail. Grafth empathizes with the dog's yearning, his senses filled to the brim with good smells.

"This wonderful breakfast that Misha has graciously prepared for us represents the very last of my food stores—all the more reason that we'll need to resupply later today, once we know where we're going."

[Jeremy]

Goran nods at Ralsor.

"As long as we're near the Reaches, you'll find me a bit distracted. Just slap me on the shoulder if you want my attention." he says with a friendly, if slightly sad, smile.

"Also, I desperately need to buy some more arrows, so if we stop somewhere I can do this, please let me know."

The half-elf walks over to Misha, deference and respect in his gait and voice. "Have you any wine from my homeland...the Eldeen variety?"

[Joe]

Streko walks up to the table and grabs a sausage, taking it back to the group. He nods at Tangat and offers the meat to him.

"You deserve no less, my friend," he tells the dog, patting his back lovingly. He turns to Ralsor.

"As you may have heard, I am a healer of House Jorasco and a cleric of Olladra and the Soveriegn Host. I have no small degree of knowledge concerning various things and I am an herbalist by profession. If there is anything specific I can do to assist you, good sir, I will be happy to do so...as long as those duties do not interfere in my caring for our two injured guests."

Which reminds him...

"Kalarian...if you don't mind..." Streko takes the d'Deneith's hand into his and whispers an offering to Olladra, sennding a wave of light healing energy throughout his friend's injured body.
______________________________________________

Take away Sanctuary please....

[Darren]

Kalarian bows his head slightly to Streko. "My thanks, Master Streko."

Kal walks up to Ralsor, his gaze lingering on Misha. A lascivious grin spreads over his face as he lowers his voice to ask, "What's her deal?"

[Josh]

Grafth, looking as if he thought he may never eat again, grabs an assortment of items and proceeds to shove most of them into his mouth at once.

"A plesher cho meech oo." he says with a nod toward Misha.

[Jeff]

When Goran walks up to Misha and asks her about Eldeen whine, she shakes her head. "No," she says coldly. Then her eyes widen slightly as she sees Grafth not waste any time with the food. Her face becomes one of thinly veiled disgust.

Ralsor gets Goran's attention. "To tide you over, I may be able to dig up some more arrows for you in my storage rooms. You're too lethal with that fine bow of yours to let you go dry. But wherever we go, we can find more."

Both Ralsor and Misha—especially Misha—seem startled and more than a little surprised at Streko's open display of divine power. Kal instantly feels the last of his injuries and pain melt away at the halfling's healing touch. (All that remains for him now is to repair the straps of his leg.)

"It looks like we have our healer," Ralsor says. "Perhaps I might consider hiring you, Master Streko, longterm, to take care of my crew. Are you affordable?"

Kal walks up to Ralsor, his gaze lingering on Misha. A lascivious grin spreads over his face as he lowers his voice to ask, "What's her deal?"

Ralsor smiles knowingly, nudges Kal back discretely, then flashes a quick grin of his own as he passes his eyes over Misha—who is now pouring water for everyone. "Her deal?" the half-elf whispers softly to Kal. "Hear deal is...'hands off,' mate." He gives Kal another smile, between men.

The captain encourages everyone to sit down and indulge. When he's had a few mouthfuls himself—"These sausages are the best, mixed with thrakel-spices from Thrane" (he pushes some Grafth's way)—he rolls out a map of southern Aundair:

"We need to talk about where to go next. I have a few thoughts. We're above the Duskwood right now." He points to the blob of green north of Passage.

"Here we have Varna." He points to the town immediately west of that. "That's the largest town of the Eldeen Reaches." He looks over to Goran. "We can get all the supplies and morewe need there, yes....but, it's also very likely that someone from Passage—House Orien, House Lyrandar, they both have a reason to chase us—will have sent a message by speaking stone over to the Varna authoraties. So that's risky. If we go there, we'll need to find a place well outside of town to hide this ship—not easy to do—then go in on foot."

He points to the dot north of the forest. "This is Windshire. A small town. We can find some of what we'd want there, not quite as much, and probably run less of a risk there."

Just north of that is another dot. "And this is Redleaf, across the border into the Reaches again. Same deal, probably, but even less likely for Orien or Lyrandar personnel to find us there. But...ever since the Reaches seceded from Aundair during the war, there's a lot of bad blood between Reachers and Aundairians. So...we just have to remember that."

"Miss Valetreash..." Ralsor pauses as he looks around the table. "Where's the gnome?"

_______________________________

Streko heals Kal 8 hit points. Kal is fully healed again.

[Josh]

"...mixed with thrakel-spices from Thrane..."

The shifter, finishing off a piece of bread, looks blankly at the airship captain. Ignoring the sausages, Grafth says, "As I mentioned last night, my choice would be Windshire. Right now we need a little security, and some time to find out what Pel knows.

"As for Narfieh," he continues, pulling some more breakfast toward him, "I'd keep an eye on her. She seems quite headstrong."

[Darren]

Kal gives Misha a last longing look, then gives another slight bow to Ralsor. Having decided that the hunt has ended here, he picks a chair at the table, puts his feet up, and begins to eat. One hand reaches lazily down to scratch Tangat's ears. It seems like ages since he has indulged his canine friend.

"The last thing we need is trouble from the authorities right now. We'll get plenty of that later, but we can't afford to be slowed down. We're lacking information, and we can't allow it to become stale by the time we get it, so we must try to move ahead of it." Again, Kalarian looks questioningly at Grafth. "I think it's time we showed him the book and its handwritten map. That may influence our decision of where to go."

[Josh]

"Perhaps you're right... definitely about the map— I hadn't thought of that. I'd still feel more comfortable having Pel awake and healthy before we further discuss the book. However," Grafth says, looking at Goran, "Perhaps we'll let its keeper decide."

[Joe]

"It looks like we have our healer," Ralsor says. "Perhaps I might consider hiring you, Master Streko, longterm, to take care of my crew. Are you affordable?"

I am on a personal mission for the time being. However, once this quest is completed, I will consider your consideration for hire. As to being affordable...I am as affordable as any Jorasco healer might be." He smiles at Ralsor, then helps himself to a large portion of sausage, bread and cheese.

Grafth says, "As I mentioned last night, my choice would be Windshire. Right now we need a little security, and some time to find out what Pel knows.

"I agree with Grafth," Streko says amidst a mouthful of food. "Windshire is small enough in both risk and notice to be a good place to plan our next move and go into with a better chance of success than, say, going someplace where we must spend equal amounts of time worrying about being detained.

"As to Pel, and with gratitude to our host, I believe and fervently hope that she and Amal will be up and about by the time we reach whatever destination is decided upon."

"As for Narfieh," he continues, pulling some more breakfast toward him, "I'd keep an eye on her. She seems quite headstrong."

Streko sits upright and looks around. He gets out of his chair quickly and goes to Tangat. Speaking in halfling, he whispers into the dog's ear.

"Check on Pel. Make sure she is safe."

He returns his attention to the rest of the group and focuses on Ralsor.

"I would request, good sir, that I be given a key to lock the quarters in which Pel and Amal are recovering. Not that I don't trust you, far from it, however, there are others on this fine vessel I do not know...and my faith in others has been tested to it's very limits these past few days."

Streko goes over to Kal. "Please keep me uprised of whatever I am not around for. I think, for now, that Pel and Amal's recovery should be my primary concern. If all is well upon Tangat's return, I will retun to those efforts and remain, shall we say, vigilant."
______________________________________________

Streko will wait for Tangat's return...after which he will take a second plate filled with food back down to the "recovery room" and remain there to guard his charges.

[Jeff]

Right after Streko whispers in the Halfling language to Tangat, the wolfdog back to Kal and woofs questioningly.

Ralsor looks quizzically at Kal and Grafth and Streko. "A book, now. And a map? Sounds like you're still keeping some things from me. Do so at your own risk. If secret-keeping leads to disaster, the fault isn't mine." He shrugs, but doesn't press the issue.

"As for the gnome, seriously, where—?"

A muffled cry sounds belowdecks...no doubt from the cargo hold. It sounds like a girl's. And then it is cut short.

"Your new 'crew' brings more trouble," Misha says to Ralsor with an acid tone, saying more than one word now.

"Oh, Host," Ralsor says, rising to his feet. "Just ONE day of peace would be nice."

[Joe]

"The Traveler's Black Blood! I should have known. Tell a gnome what NOT to do...and it is all but guaranteed that will be the first action they attempt.

"Ralsor...your ship...YOUR secrets...you lead..."

Streko removes his sickle, an angry grimace etched into his youthful face.

[Josh]

"I assure you, anything we have not yet told you is for your safety, not ours," the shifters says as he stands to join Ralsor. "It is not a secret, merely a matter of timing."

Grafth will follow the captain.

[Darren]

Kalarian sighs as he rises slowly, clearly more annoyed than worried. Having not anticipated a fight on board the ship, as he probably should have, Kalarian foolishly left his sharrash in his room. His right hand moves to the hilt of his Deneith longsword. With his left hand, he gestures for Tangat to lead the way. "After you, my friend," he says in Halfling.

[Jeremy]

The half-elf smiles and shakes his head at Misha's short, clipped refusal, holding his hand up as if to say 'Sorry to have bothered you'.

He nods politely to Ralsor upon hearing there may be some arrows in the hold.

"Thank you, I appreciate it most sincerely." He casts a look back out over towards the Reaches and mumbles, perhaps for no one other than himself.

"Funny how much I wanted to leave when I had been there for so long, and yet now I miss it so much." He turns to Ralsor.

"If I can be of any use in dealing with anyone of my people or those who dwell nearby, please let me know.

Goran will, himself, go off in search of sustenance.

[Jeff]

"Stay here, Misha," Ralsor says. "And stay alert. Call out if you see anything."

The dark-eyed, dark-haired woman scowls.

The Lyrandar storms out of the room, whipping the rapier from its scabbard as he leads the group down into the Cargo Deck. Tangat trots beside Kal, energized by the excitement.

When you reach the lower deck and face the larger storage room, the door (that Ralsor had locked earlier) hangs wide open. "Khbyer!" the half-elf remarks, then steps in, leading the rest of you.

Within, the storage room has clearly been...disturbed.

Lying on the ground several paces beyond the door is a set of lockpicks. Near that is the wand that the gnome woman carried (and used) and a short distance across the room is a crowbar. There is no trace of the gnome herself.

However, the tarp that had been thrown over the large crates at the center of the room has been partially peeled away, exposing the first few crates. There are approximately ten such crates of irregular sizes. Curiously, along the edge of each wooden crate is branded a letter of the Common alphabet. Each one is different, but there certainly aren't enough crates to account for the full alphabet.

The A crate has been pried open. Broken pieces of statuary and chalky crumbled stone (little more than dust) that have partially spilled out onto the floor suggest a four-legged animal of some kind. Perhaps a lifelike sculpture of a great cat?

The B crate looks like it's been forced open from the inside. There's no stony bits or dust to indicate what might have been inside.

The C crate has been only been slightly tampered with. The "door" of it has partially pried open, then evidently abandoned.

The D crate has been fulled opened. The lifelike statue of a sturdy dwarf in old battle regalia, fully armored and armed with a heavy, two-handed axe. He stands in a braced position, legs spread apart in a militant stance, as if readying against the charge of an enemy.

The remaining crates still remain covered by the large canvas tarp.

A soft green glow outlines the shape of the dwarf sculpture and the bits of broken rubble in the A crate. The same light emanates from the C crate, but the box isn't pried open enough to see what lies within.

"Twelve Bloody Moons!" Ralsor curses. "What did she do to my cargo!??"

He looks, at a loss, to your group.

[Joe]

"Better questions might be, where is she and what is that glow?"

Sickle in hand, Streko enters the room and stops near the discarded lockpicks and wand. He picks them up, tossing the lockpicks into his haversack and keeping the wand in his off-hand.

"Anyone know what this does or how to use it?"

He stares closely at the dwarf and shakes his head. "If what I suspect is true, we might be in for some trouble. Not that this should come as a shock to any of us."
___________________________________________

Arcane knowledge check and a spot check to see if anything is hiding in nearby shadows or moving amongst the debris.

[Darren]

"No, Master Streko, the better question would be what in Khyber was in those crates that broke out from the INSIDE? Everyone be on alert. I'd guess we're not alone."

Kalarian removes his longsword from it's sheath, the metal ringing softly as he does so. He begins to move slowly around the crates, his posture crouched and ready for action. He motions for Tangat to move around the room in an opposite circle from the one he's taking, hoping the canine's keen senses will detect something that his human ones might miss.

[Jeremy]

"My first guess..." hazards Goran, "would be that some things in there were brought to life, by someone with the requisite skill, and recently too."

Goran draws his sword and peers into the darkness around the crates, seeking any more clues.

[Jeff]

Kal notices the slightest traces of what appear to be footsteps in the stony dust that has spilled out across the deck. They appear to lead out of the room. They are small, strange prints.

Goran, Streko, and Tangat hear a slight whistling sound (as of wind) coming from somewhere else down on this cargo deck.

As you watch, the soft green glow fades away...and with it, the gray stone of the statues—strangely, they are each the same hue—begins to sharpen in detail even as the gray seems to evaporate into the air. Stone softens, becoming flesh. The pieces of broken rubble spewed out of crate A becomes dark-colored fur, white bone, and red blood....the latter begins to pool beneath it the larger pieces. It's sickening to watch.

Crate C begins to shake slightly as whatever is it inside emits a shriek—a horrid, almost birdlike gutteral caw—which then quiets suddenly.

The dwarf statue that stands within the open crate D quivers for a moment and as color appears you realize it is anything but a statue. The powerfully built figure begins to breath, drawing in slow and deep breathes. His eyes, wide now, droop as a lethargy seems to fall over him. The heavy, double-bladed war axe lowers as his limbs struggle to hold it. But they don't lose the two-handed grip on it.

He wears well-tailored armor that looks like it was made from the hide of a tough animal, and over his shoulder is a bulging pack like an explorer's. His hair and beard is long, longer than most dwarves wear it, braided with beads and a few bits of quartz-like rock.

Distant light returns to Torhak's consciousness as if from a far distant realm. But then he remembers it, and starts to think that he must have been sleeping very deeply, dreaming of the depths of the mountain, the vault....the Vault! It's the last thing he can remember, but clearly that is not where he is. He feels strength creeping very slowly back into his muscles—strength had temporarily fled him, betrayed him, went somewhere else!—but finally it's returning. The weight of his axe is comforting...

Torhak sees a room opening up before him, brighter than he remembers...in fact, some of the light is reflected daylight. How did he get outside the mountain? He doesn't quite remember. And where he is now...there's something odd about it. The ground is sturdy enough, but something's amiss. When his mind assesses the space before him, he realizes there's a bunch of people staring at him.

Closest is a stubbled half-elf in a blue-green longcoat, with wild hair, holding a rapier up as if ready to defend himself. He looks...somewhere between angry and annoyed. And the others around him...

Streko can't help but stand in shock for a moment.
He realizes that magic has not animated these "statues," that, in fact, these things had somehow been transmuted into stone and have now returned to their original states.

Neither Kal nor Goran see any more movement from among the crates.

________________________________

Knowledge (arcana) checks: Streko (20), Kal (11).
Listen checks: Goran (16), Grafth (10), Kal (5), Streko (18), Tangat (16).
Spot checks: Goran (12), Grafth (11), Kal (20), Tangat (25).

Everyone: in your next post please give us (and our new player!) an updated description of your character!

I'm including the map below so you can get a rough idea of the current layout. It does NOT mean combat (unless you make it so).