A subtle hum permeates every stone wall on the Durngrist - the usual. When the engines were running, everyone in the Station could hear that. Out of the ordinary, however, were the exciteable crew members running about the stout, square hallways of the vessel. They'd come across a new planet! In the habitable range of its sun, it didn't have the trademark complete destruction that every other planet they had found had exhibited. Or at least, so the rumours were. Not everybody had access to a viewing station, so it's not easy for everybody to confirm the rumours.
Aramant is busy working, identifying some massive blocks of stone that had just been pulled from the Granite Gate. His monocle-magnifying glass falls from his face when a pat on his shoulder comes. Turning around, he sees a few recognizable faces. Two warforged guards, their integrated breastplates glimmering in the light, flank a dwarven Captain. He gestures, and a replacemnet geologist comes out from behind them. "You're being relieved. Harzadoum has a job for you." says the Captain.
Aam already knew what was happening. During one of his semiweekly lunches with Dorna about eight Golarion days ago, she told him of the approaching planet. She told him that she wanted him be a part of the first mission to see its surface. Aam waits in the gyrocopter bay for the rest of those chosen to show up, while the mechanics prepare the device that would be used to drop them to the surface.
Torgar's daughter Margrin volunteered him for the mission, and it was her that told him about what would happen. She knows he would be happier somewhere with real dirt, and knows that he could do a good job looking after the others that would be sent. Grumbling, Torgar made his own way over to the gyrocopter bay on the day.
Dargrin was exercising one of his rest periods when the guards came for him. He had been working hard over the course of the last few weeks on the outside of the Durngrist, repairing the ship's divinatory sensors and one of the defense weapons that had been damaged during a recent encounter with a flock of space monsters. He knows better than to question a summons, though, and is escorted over to the bay.
Reginald is in the central farmland chamber when they came for him. Despite its limited space and needs, there are still some farm animals... chickens, goats, a handful of oxen for ploughing. It's his job to take care of them, but a druid accompanies the three guards who come for Reginald, and takes over the task he was taking care of.
- - - - -
The gyrocopter bay is a large chamber. The ceiling is fifteen feet high, triple the height of your average hallway in the Station. There is another on the other side of the station, and four gyropcopters sit within this station. Made of steel and bronze, the contraption has wide bladelike propellers extending from a rotor on top. A glass chamber on the front would hold the pilot, otherwise holding a comfy-looking chair and an array of levers and dials, and a small space behind him holds a number of passengers. Two passengers at a time can access the firearms connected to the sides of the flying machine for defense.
Other than those summoned, a small number of other characters are in the gyrocopter bay. Jezzick, the purple-skinned half-orc mechanic, does some last-minute maintenance on one of the copters. About ten guards, a mixture of warforged and dwarf, watch the doors and the group in the chamber. Another dwarf consults with Jezzick - one that you recognize as Tordin Slatecatcher, a Captain in the Station's military and a gyrocopter pilot. Finally, Ba'Ad Harzadoum, the man behind the whole mission, stands near the gyrocopter. His braided grey beard falls below his waist, and his wizardly robes are resplendent. In his hand he holds a staff crafted from adamantine, designed to appear like a spine. The head of the staff looks like the back several inches of a head, rounded and concave. "Thank you for coming." he says, his voice deep and resonant.
Dargrin bursts into the room, having bounced his way down the corridor at an undwarfly speed. At seeing who's waiting, he straightens up his uniform and tries to control his excitement. When he was outside, he looked through the spyglass as he lined up the starcannon. He knew they were coming to a new world, and the chance to be one of the first explorers was amazing.
As he waited for the others, he busied himself by looking over the gyrocopters. He could sense the way the blades would flow through the air, a dance relying on wind to lift this beautiful contraption.
Torgar had been thinking all too much about this moment, and was overall just upset at his time on the spacecraft.
They finally get away from that blasted sun, and what do they do? GO and make a fake one! Just to blister me... Whatever. Hopefully this sun'll be far-er off than the old one.
Waddling through the halls with Bogey in tow, he pauses.
He steadies himself, gripping his scaly tank tightly as he stops himself from upchucking. The journey and its' sickly luminous conditions had been all but kind to the introverted outdoorsman. Entering the gyrocopter room, he sees all the excited sundwarves and their leader, and instinctively rolls his eyes.
The musty deep one sniffles. Due to the unforgivable nature of his face, only those in close contact with him would be able to discern that Torgar was feeling exquisitely under the weather.
"Aright, aright. Let's get off this wretched contraption. Anyone have a spot of ale on 'em?"
With a gruff facade veiling his intents, the hunter scans the room, discerning with deftness his new associates, eyes 'ashifting.
Aramant shakes his head in agreement and stands up with certain difficult. He scratches his shoulder and organize the tools neatly, before pulling his backpack and equipment and throwing on his back. He walks slowly and steady within the Durngrist.
Used to the humming, as he walks his eyes blink slowly as if being put to sleep by a mother's lullaby. His hands touch the stone walls and he breathes deeply, as if feeling each grain of rock.
He finally arrives at the bay, looking at the present with tired eyes. He stops near Ba'Ad and greets him gently, limiting himself to this gesture; after that, he simply stays there, paying attention to his surroundings.
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Reginald acknowledges the change in duties quietly murmering to the druid "The goats still need milking, else they get angsty." Before plodding towards the stable, his slow gait apparant compared to his otheriwse unusally large size.
Quickly he finds what he is looking for, a large stallion which he coaxes into its armour and saddlebags. Unfortunatley himself and the horse are both a tad tall for the corridors, a few "good horse" and "easy nows" are muttered as he makes his way to his quarters to fetch his own supplies, carefully he packs his tools into a bag before placing it into Dobin's saddlebags (Dobin is the stallion). Before making his way, as hastily as one can when they have to hunch down to fit through corridors to the meeting point.
As he enters the room he cracks his neck loudly dispelling the common discomfort of the low ceilings and he coaxes Dobin to lie down. He greets Ba'Ad with a simple "Greetings." Before looking towards his fellows. Being summoned by Ba'Ad he expects they will all have appropriat skills to the tas- good gods he is ugly. That is going to be distracting, and that one seems, energetic? And finally rhe other one seems, tired. Reginald continues with a few more of these these mental observations until Ba'Ad presumable speaks again. Regardless of initial appearances he is looking forward to working with these people.
"I would hardly call the ship wretched, but it shall be good to not have to bend my neck if I need be anywhere."
Otherwise Reginald waits next to his docile companion idly fussing with its ears, and wondering if it'll actually be possible to bring Dobin down or if he'll have to leave his companion aboard the ship.
With the arrival of at least most of the group he had summoned, Ba'Ad speaks up. "Uhh.. yeah. If the last guy doesn't show until after I'm done, one o' you have gotta catch him up on what's what."
He gestures at the gyrocopter being attended to by Tordin and Jezzick. "I presume you're all familiar with these? It's a gyrocopter. It flies. Sorta like a glider, but it's got power till it lands. The compartment on the inside's got enough space to stuff everyone I summoned in, even if it's a little uncomfortable."
"Uh, yeah. We came up on a new planet a couple of days ago. The ship's navigators have been spendin' a couple of days carefully lowering us into its atmosphere so that we can drop a gyrocopter down to take a look at somethin' odd we saw. A temple. Some cursory scrying of the thing revealed some...familiar architecture. We haven't seen any other obvious signs of civilization down there yet, so it seemed as good a place as any to start, so I'm sending you guys down to check it out. If there's people, you make contact. If there's no people, you report back. After, we send down more explorers to see what's what."
"Seems this planet's a little low on water. Most of the life's in the equator, nice temperate valleys between polar deserts. The temple's down there in one of the canyons - Tordin knows the way, but he'll have to park pretty high up on a cliff or you guys can't come back." The dwarf gyrocopter pilot nods encouragingly, giving the party a smile and a thumbs-up.
"Oh!" says Ba'Ad, flicking up a finger like he forgot something. He strides forward towards Reginald and Torgar's animal companions, touching each of them once. He murmurs the words for a spell, and the companions shrink down to tiny one-inch statues made of stone. "Pocket 'em. Throw 'em on the ground and tell 'em to come back, and they will. Less room to worry about on the copter that way. You're gonna need to find a way to turn 'em back though to come back... though you're a druid, right?" he says, turning to Torgar.
Ba'Ad scratches his mostly-bald head... "So uh... any questions?"
"What kind of architecture? Does the temple appear to be to a known god?"
Reginald looks somenly at the statue in his hand before gently placing it in a pouch.
"Might I ask of the roles of everyone here? As some may have surmised I am something of a soilder, trained as Heavy Cavalry to be specific even if , I am however an able cartographer too, I'll more than likely make notes on the local terrain whiles I am down there."
Upon hearing of the upcoming mission, Aam could barely keep his excitement waiting those days. Another world! And he would be the first of his clan - among the first dwarves possibly - surely at least the first members of their world to walk upon it! His mind raced for days imagining all that various ways the world could be different and how magnificent each one would be. He also wondered if it was quite similar to their world, just what amazing implications that would mean.
When the day arrived, Aam made sure to arrive early, but hesitated when he entered the gyrocopter bay. He eyed the gyrocopter warily. For some reason he had no problem with Harzadoum and others making a mountain fly between worlds. But this contraption? That was a different story. He gulped and felt a bit dizzy thinking of flying in that machine, nothing holding them up but the flimsy propellers. When he heard someone else approaching, he took a deep breath and steadied himself. I must not show weakness, lest the others doubt me. Doubt is a disease that can eat away at us and kill anyone if it flares at the wrong moment. I am the blade. I am steel in the night.
Aam silently nods as the others enter. As Ba'Ad Harzadoum speaks, Aam feels calm flow over him. The great Harzadoum himself sending us off! Our leader and the visionary of this new Quest for Sky! Ba'Ad Harzadoum will be looking down on us from this new sky. We shall not fail.
Bowing slightly, Aam says to Harzadoum, "I have no questions, my Leader, only thanks."
"A wise question, my friend. My greatest skill is with my blade, and I have some magical prowess to back that up, as well. Furthermore, my clan thrived in an inhospitable desert, so out of necessity, I have learned to live off the land even when the land does not wish to provide."
While most of the time holding his tongue, resisting to say anything, Aramant hoped to hear more about his present companions. He couldn't resist, however, and ended up speaking to Ba'Ad, in a respectful yet friendly tone.
Damn it, 'Doum, I'm a geologist, not a diplomat!
If he was serious, he still let escape a small smile to show he was just kidding. Complaining, as always, but still willing to help as supposed.
Very well. 'Aye' can help with the terrain and the rocks, mates - geology, geography, and fighting if needed. 'Aye' will be carrying me warhammer just in case but don't expect to use it.
Out of respect for his daughter Torgar bites his tongue as the pomp mage trifles with his tunnel companion so casually. He huffs, but says no words to Harzadoum as he hastily retrieves his stone lizard from the artificial floor.
As the conversation between associates bubbles, the arms-crossed Torgar grumbles to the rock-fae:
"I'm obviously the hired entertainment for you gents... Ha-ch!
Who knows, maybe the folk we find down there'll find me cute... Heh"
If you thought he was repulsive when he was grouchy, you soon experience a knee-jerk reaction of insight as the deep dwarf begins to grin at his own bad joke...
He's far more palatable when miserable.
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Dargin cocked his head when they brought the reptile and the horse in here. He knew they had animals in part of the ship, but he thought they only had tasty ones. He figured that the reptile must be one of the few things that doesn't mind Torgar's face and attitude. The need for a horse became obvious. Reginald would need something to carry him around. He seemed to be having trouble moving in his armor.
The desert dwarf must have been poor and spent all of his money on his blade. Still, you'd think that they would loan him something to wear since it might be dangerous down there. He's probably too proud to ask for help. And of course he paid for a flying glowstone. A silly expenditure, but who was he to judge.
He knew what Aramant was when seeing him. The way that dust and pebbles seemed to hover around him. The solidity of him. The two seemed to have a similar connection to different elemental planes. It would be good knowing they had somebody else with an ample reserve of energy.
At the call for questions, his hand shoots up so quickly it pulls him a foot off the ground. "Can I pilot the gyrocopter?" his eyes blaze with manic excitement.
Ba'Ad addresses Aramant first, sternly saying "Not asking you to be a diplomat. I'm asking you to go down to the surface and toss around some rocks. Maybe make sure you don't all die in a cave-in."
It's Tordin that intercepts Dargrin, grinning at him but holding his hands up placatingly. "Maybe during a less important mission, greyskin." He pats the gyrocopter lovingly. "Besides, this baby is mine." You can see that it clearly has a badly-rendered picture of a "sexy dwarf lady" on the side, along with the words "The Lusty Dwarven Maid" painted along the prow.
Ba'Ad ushers everyone into the cargo space. "If you don't need anything, you get going immediately. No time to be waiting. Only time to be falling through the sky at terrifying speeds."
Dargrin shrugs at not being allowed to pilot. But he leaps to be able to sit next to Tordin and watch how he controls it. Plus this gives him a great view of the ride down.
Hah! Toss around some rocks. That 'aye' can do, mate.
Aramant laughs in a not too charismatic way, but that was his way of being "friendly". Right after, he finds a spot in the back of the vehicle and adjusts a pebble against a window to catch some sleep. * heh, lusty maid! * - he thinks, babbling incoherently a little after.
Torgar takes his little statue, his spear, and his musty self, and packs into the wicked ship. He is silent, trusting the might of the contraption for not a second.
The passenger area is a cramped, mostly metal box. Six tiny, steel chairs ring the outside of it, each with handles on the sides to grasp onto for dear life.
Tordin flips open the cockpit area and climbs in. His seat is much cushier, which actual cushioning. Arrayed in front of him are a number of gauges, a set of levers, and below him at his feet are two more levers which he seems to feel. There is no room for Dargrin in the cockpit, though Dargrin can sit back-to-back with the young Captain and peer over his own shoulder to observe.
Ba'Ad wishes the group good luck, and Tordin waves back before pulling the cockpit down. He reaches forward and pulls a lever near his feet, and a near-invisible bubble appears over the entrances to the ship, and it begins to warm up... Then a team of dwarves pushes the gyrocopter out of the bay. You can see the edge of a blue sky crossing your vision horizontally, with black above and blue below, and then you all tip downwards. After a terrifying moment of anticipation, you begin to fall at great speed.
The large Oread doesn't even get time to brace, being entirely too used to the gravity of the ship and lack of sudden acceleration he falls unconcious before he's even gotten to consider gripping the handles.
Ba'Ad ushers everyone into the cargo space. "If you don't need anything, you get going immediately. No time to be waiting. Only time to be falling through the sky at terrifying speeds."
"Wait... whu-what?! *gulp* Uh - I mean - certainly, sir! We will make you and all of the ship proud!"
Aam focuses his mind to at least display as much calm to the others as possible ans the gyrocopter slides out of the bay and falls.
He watches with rapt attention as they fall. He doesn't pay attention to the *thunk* of Reginald flopping over. Instead he seems to enjoy the freefall completely, only grabbing on as they approach the landing.
The reprehensible one doesn't actually notice the difference as the ship touches the ground.
Aramant shakes, but keeps sleeping. He snores loudly on the back of the vehicle.
The gyrocopter hurtles downward through the dry air of the new planet for almost a minute before Tordin decides that it's time enough to pull up. The cloud layer parts before you as you fall, and you can hear Tordin struggling with the instrumentation over the howl of the wind. After some sketchy creaks and cranks though, the gyrocopter levels out as it reaches the tops of the mountains.
Without the eyes-watering from the intense speed (decreased to about 190 kilometers per hour), you can see that you've found yourself in a verdant mountain valley. Green mountains, rather than the white you see on Golarion, rise high into the sky, covering either side of a beautiful river bordered by immense, red-leaved trees. Behind you, you can see the endless blue horizon of a sea. The sky is white, and it's hot. The humidity increases as you get closer to the valley, and everyone begins to sweat a little bit. The sky is white-grey, though it isn't particularly cloudy.
Thousands of feet above, you can see the immense bulk of the Durngrist. It's aligned horizontally, so its flat side is down and four of its huge cylindrical engines can be seen. It recedes slowly into the sky.
Tordin maneuvers the gyrocopter down towards one of the mountains, expertly landing on a flat grassy surface halfway up the side of the mountain. The thing's wheels turn, and it coasts to a stop just a few feet from the edge of a sheer cliff.
In spite of the deathly light all round him, Torgar was wide eyed and in a childlike awe. The scenery of this new planet was so mysterious. For the first time in his venture outside his dirt hole, he was thankful- even considering himself fortunate.
"Would y'look at THAT!"
"Well, let's see what this new world is like." He disembarks and pulls out his pack. Despite the heat, he seems to catch a cool breeze.
In spite of the deathly light all round him, Torgar was wide eyed and in a childlike awe. The scenery of this new planet was so mysterious. For the first time in his venture outside his dirt hole, he was thankful- even considering himself fortunate.
"Would y'look at THAT!"
Aam staggers out of the gyrocopter and takes one look at the cliff a few feet away - "Ug, I'd rather NOT look." He takes several shaky steps away from the cliff, plants his feet, closes his eyes, and takes a deep, slow breath.
"Ahhh, solid ground - much better. Although..." Aam smacks his lips, "...this air is so... wet. Well, it's not a beautiful desert, but we could make due. Anyone see which way we should go? I... uh... didn't have a good view from my seat."
Aramant wakes up, finally, when the vehicle lands. He still manages to be impressed by everything around, and curiously steps outside, following the others. He breathes heavily, pulling the alien air to his lungs.
The grass is nicely soft, though a closer look reveals it to not only be sharp, but also to have an unusual red tube running along the center of it. Luckily, everybody in the party is wearing boots and grass doesn't stand a chance against boots.
The cliff face offers a wondrous view of the river valley below. Directly below the cliff, the mountain's lower half stretches, curving gently down to the foliage layer (a layer which is delightfully warm-toned). The river which must feed every plant in the valley is wide - thousands of feet wide at least, and not very fast-flowing.
Tordin hops out of the gyrocopter, clutching a repeating crossbow. "The ruin that we're looking for is nearby. It's a short hike up into the mountain. I could show you the way, or I could stay with the gyrocopter... just in case we're wrong about any natives. Not that I'm worried about anybody flying it away or anything."
Reginald begins to regain conciousness aboard the gyro-copter. Slowly awoken by the sounds of conversation he hauls himself to his feet and exits the 'copter.
"Remind me to brace before throwing us at a planet." He grimaces, looking around the group, "I assume I was the only one to fall unconcious?"
A stalk of grass is plucked by his gauntleted hand, examining it closely before turning and looking in the general direction of Torgar, "Do you think this stuff is safe for my mount and your companion?"
"I'd be more worried about a large animal investigating it to be honest. I think we could find our way on our own, although it would be faster if you guided us"
Tordin raises his eyebrows, noticing Reginald clambering out of the copter. "You fell unconscious? Whew, lucky you didn't just fall out then, huh." He chuckles, letting go of his crossbow with one hand to hold his belly instead.
Reginald checks the area around the gyrocopter, spending a few minutes examining the landing zone for tracks. He doesn't find any tracks that would correspond to a large animal he would ever recognize. In fact, there don't really seem to be any tracks at all.
Torgar picks up a fist full of dirt, examining the grass and topsoil as the rock djinn asks him of it.
"Eh, well, this is some weird dirt, I'll tell you that. It seems to have blood in it. Blood- in GRASS! HAH! As long as it's not poisonous or venereal I think your pony should do just fine, mate."
He examines the tuft of grass and soil further, with an almost manic artists' eyes.
To Tordin: Torgar waves him off as he begins walking towards the mountain.
"We'll do fine, lassie, just keep the wheels greased..."
All the while, Torgar's face just seems to get uglier and uglier as time passes by.
You'd think it'd stop phasing you after a good while of staring at it in orbit, but to no avail.
It's like it's own ecosystem lives on it, and it's reached its' own mini-industrial age, excavating any trace of normality on him.
Ugliest dark dwarf you ever seen.
"Blood? Eagh, it's VAMPIRE GRASS?!" From there, he'll hope from bare patch to bare patch to try and avoid stepping on any of it.
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Reginald places the statuette of Dobin on the floor, before somewhat awkwardly telling him to "come back."
Reginald will then attach a muzzle to Dobin, best take precautions with the grass. He'll then take his tools to map out the local area as he can see best he can.
Turning to Dargrin, "I highly doubt its vampire grass" Glancing at the somewhat amusing spectacle of a Deurgar hopping about as he works. "I suspect we would be in alot more trouble by now if it was."
When he's done Reginald will mount up. Dobin does not look fased by its armour, and relatively unencumbered by the weight of the gear and Reginald.
"Well, you're not going to catch me sleeping on that stuff." he says as they prepare to head up to the temple.
Torgar raises one mangled eyebrow to Dargrin.
"I'd rather sleep on this than on that grimey skyship, any day. I'd rather be a surface dweller."
He crumbles the alien soil in his hands after giving it a good sniff- the sort of inhale an avid tea-drinker gives a fresh cup of herbs.
Tordin indicates that the structure is just up over the next rise, nestled in a little sheltered nook in between two large rocks. The path is relatively easy to find, and Tordin idly kicks his legs while sitting in the passenger compartment of the copter while the group takes off to check it out.
It takes about ten minutes to climb up the section of the rise and down into the crevice that holds the structure. Once you get into the area, you realize what a marvel it was that the place was spotted from so high up in the atmosphere. Shadowed by two large outcroppings of rock, the supposed temple sits deep in a fissure. A winding passageway carved into the rock face switchbacks down either side to a small courtyard in front of the building. The building itself is merely two pillars standing alone on either side of a massive stone door. The cliff face was flattened and sanded out, so it's clear that the whole area was purposefully crafted, and the ground in front of the door is perfectly flat as well. Two empty pools, a statue of a strange raven standing tall in each, sit in the courtyard.
The group is about a thousand feet above all of this, standing near the top of one of the switchback paths. It is just barely noon.
Reginald grimaces at the width of the path, but stays mounted and begins guiding the horse down the path. "A good thing 'tis noon, best lighting to see the path with!"
"Anybody recognize the architecture? Or statues? It certainly looks impressive!"
Torgar's demeanor is nothing but frigid. The only thing he abhorred more than the surface and their pompous dwarves was heights. Visibly shaking, the once tough guy bumbles over the bridge.
At first Dar cocks his head quizzically at Reggie, wondering why he cared about the light. Then he realized that it was the mount. It must have defective vision like the humans on the ship. It was always sad to realize how poorly their god thought of them.
"With how deep this is, it'll probably be dark by the time we get to the bottom."
He'll start heading down, being careful, but not particularly concerned about the height. At the switchbacks, he'll leap down from the top to the bottom.
The mountaineer dwarf smiles. He takes a deep breath, as if smelling the rocks themselves, and follows with the others in silence. He finally breaks such muteness to respond Reginald, equally admiring the work.
It's certainly quite the view. To see such stonework around 'heeer' brings warmth to 'ma' dwarven heart. We might be meeting equal minded individuals, or at least people who knows how to appreciate the true skills.
"I dunno. We had plenty of fancy, ancient buildings where I lived - filled with all sorts of nasty creatures that didn't appreciate visitors. Be ready, fellas! I saw more than a few brave souls who naively come across a mummy or swarm of skeletons. The results of that ain't a pretty sight to see."
Aam nervously twirls his blade in his hand as they proceed down the path. He ignores the view and watches for movement along the path in front of them and occasionally around the structure.
As the group descends into the mountain fissure, they chat and observe the strange artifacts that are visible from up above. They become clearer and clearer as the group gets closer to the level of the courtyard, and nothing accosts them on the way down...
Down at the bottom, the crow statues loom unsettlingly high... each rises to a height of nearly fifteen feet, with intricately detailed stonecarving responsible for it.
The massive stone gates have no very obvious opening mechanism, and opening them by hand would be incredibly difficult... not only because of the size, but also because of the lack of handles. There is a locking mechanism, though. In the center of the gates, at very convenient reaching level for dwarves, there is a simple crank that you recognize as connecting to some kind of bar mechanism inside. Unusual, that the door would lock from the outside, though...
More than that, though... it just feels consecrated.
"Feisty lookin' birds. You make anything out of these carvings?"
Torgar looks at the more studious figures of the troupe.
"So, we ready to go inside?"
Hmmm... These are no ordinary crows, mates. - he seems to push his eyes with his geologist glasses - ... These look like some big flying aberrations, that's what they do.
He doesn't pull his weapon, though, but seems more defensive, as if his very flesh became harder like stone.
"Flying aberrations eh?"
Reginald frowns.
"And here we are on a thin path half way up a cliff, Aam your the only one who hasn't spoken up, know anything about these things? Aramant, that all you got? Or do you reckon you can squeeze some more knowledge out of that head of yours."
Reginald is going to prepare his shield and ensure his lance is strapped to the side of his mount for quick access. Sensing the impending risk of combat, Dobin settles down into some slightly more rigid behavior, and becomes more alert.
"Aramant is right. I've heard them called deep crows. Foul creatures from the darklands. Been lucky enough to never come across one myself. From the legends I've heard, if I had seen one in person, I doubt I'd still be here to tell ya about it." While pausing to study the statues, Aam spins his khopesh more now, feeling comfort in its weight.
Shifting into his comfortable role of tour guide in dangerous lands, he uses the blade to point out the features of the statues, "If you look close, you can see it has furry feet and that ain't feathers, but skin there, I think. Also, you can see from this angle, that's more than 2 eyes. Might not look too bad in stone, but imagine one of those nasties in person."
He looks down at the structure, "Anyone who thinks so highly enough of these foul things that they'd build a couple a statues of them... would likely not welcome us knocking on the door... if they are still around."