Haftor knows of no particular significance to the color of the candles.
Haftor seems pensive for a moment, then comments, "If we seek gear to fight the giants, then we should take everything of value, right? I already wear armor more suitable than this, though, and so I lay no claim to it. I hesitate to strip this hero of his armor to sell it for coin, so I propose: If no one wishes to claim it for their own use, we reseal the lid and allow Steelhand to return to his rest."
Haftor finds no other entrances.
Haftor seems pensive for a moment, then comments, "If we seek gear to fight the giants, then we should take everything of value, right? I already wear armor more suitable than this, though, and so I lay no claim to it. I hesitate to strip this hero of his armor to sell it for coin, so I propose: If no one wishes to claim it for their own use, we reseal the lid and allow Steelhand to return to his rest."
"I agree. To use the weapons of Steelhand to fight the giants is acceptable to me; to loot and sell them to collectors is not."
Jarrek nods in agreement but also at Haftor's carpet. "It looks like there's stuff in your carpet, too, Haftor. Want to take a look?"
Haftor unrolls the thing and takes a look.
Haftor approaches the rolled-up carpet, which has (based on the amount of mildew on the exterior) clearly been exposed to water at some point.
To Roshelle, the dwarf, laying in the sarcophagus looks peaceful and at rest. Yet she knows that in his living days he was likely a vibrant and fierce warrior. She imagines him stalking across a battlefield, sweat soaked hair and beard glistening in the sunlight. The blood smears on his armor testifying to the terrible violence he'd been participating in. And yet, his visage full of righteousness. A true hero defending the weak and pushing back evil.
She turns her focus back to the entombed dwarf and his armor. It's strange and she's note sure she's seen something like that before. What material was it made of. She starts to reach her hand out to touch it but at the last moment she realizes what it is. She pales and yanks her hand back.
"Oh. That's... well, kind of gross."
Maybe tough guys, like all the dwarves around here were, would just chuckle at her squeamishness but she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to don armor like that without her stomach turning.
Jarrek grimaces. "That's disgusting. Those scales are hill giants' fingernails. Respect for killing that many of those things but still."
Roshelle looks at him and nods. She mouths "I know! Right?"
She steps away from the sarcophagus. The others suggest not using the armor and she couldn't agree more. Maybe for different reasons.
Haftor unrolls something that was wrapped in the rug they found and Roshelle walks over to him.
"What is it?"
When you examine the body, it's immediately apparent that the metal hand that was the source of one of his names is missing...his right arm ends at the wrist. As noted above, his skull is shattered.
Haftor notes that Steelhand's steel hand is missing, and he adds it to the list of offenses perpetrated by the undead monstrosity that he intends to destroy.