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As is his want, Yggdrar will stick close to the front of the group, first to leap into danger and pummel it into submission. His Flail kept out for now, lest they run into more skeleton guardians or some other such creature. Unable to offer any real insight to the statues surrounding the large room.
Still caught up in his rage, Yggdrar brings his boot down repeatedly on the bile of bone, stamping them thoroughly into the floor and giving a shout of victory over the de-animated skeleton. Huffing and collecting his breath, he collects his flail. "I"ll keep that in mind for the next fight, Petro. When you're dueling a skeleton warrior bare handed." Making his way back to the rest of the group, hefting the set of half-plate and setting it on the floor, as well as dividing up the bit of gold from the re-opened crypt, he says, "It's no more. The armor it wore is in good condition, so it's for whomever can wear it. Too heavy for my likes. And before I forget, does the name Alaznist mean anything to anyone?"
Hearing the clattering of weapons hitting the ground and seeing his allies being disarmed, Yggdrar moves in to confront this usually dexterous skeleton foe. Feeling a strange surge pass through him as he does, thanks to Evad. Standing in the doorway to help cover Ahto's retreat, he calls out to the enemy, "It seems that you're after a more worthy foe, Undead! I, Yggdrar the Crusher, shall make sure you meet a swift, and decisive end!" Intimidate:
Wiping his weapon clean, he stows his flail and draws the equally large scythe on his back, giving it a twirl between his fingers before grasping it tight and moving on with the group. He was vaguely aware of the meanings of the room we were going through, understanding the art in each, or just listening to the more intelligent members of the group. Perception: He was able to see the thin seem between the wall and the hidden door, in the same place Saarai pointed out. He took a moment to draw a white outline of the door with some chalk for all to see, since what he knew wouldn't be of much help here.
The burly Elf had been keeping eyes out as the rest of the group investigated the rooms in this long hallway. Slightly paranoid something may emerge from the darkness to ambush them. After smelling a foul something roll from one of the rooms, he figured he would be more useful helping to explore the rooms. Flail twirling in his hand, he slips along side Saarai, silently following 'The Rule of Two' before she went into a new room by herself.
Hearing nothing on the other side of the door, he slowly pushes the door open with his shoulder, grasping his weapon in both hands as he moves. Looking back and seeing the rest of the group finally joining him, he starts to move forward. Taking point once more as they explore what's behind this door.
Upon entering the room, Yggdrar takes a quick scan, checking for any obvious threats before motions everyone in. He still had his weapon in one hand as he scanned the room with the others of his group, keeping his distance from teh statue when one of them declared it dangerous. He noticed something off about it, but wasn't about to investigate it further. He laid eyes on the statue for a long time, approaching it and laying a hand on her stone stomach. "I recognize this being. Lissala, goddess of fate and runes. I had heard from my Elders that she was, is, a Thassilonian goddess." He looks to Petronicus, also examining the statue, and comments, "If you're having trouble reading the markings, I can translate." Kn: Religion
The tall elven barbarian nods and opts to take point for the group, giving them a moment to debate over which door to enter first. All looked shut and locked, guessing this is where that 'chime of opening' would come into play. He kept his Flail in hand, taking a moment to regard each door carefully. "I vote east, and we just go through each door in order. I don't think it'll matter that much which door we enter first."
The large Elf slowly comes down from his burst of anger, taking a moment to catch his breath as the darkness fades. He follows everyone's eyes to the carvings in the wall, studying them as he wipes off the head of his flail. Perception:
Yggdrar doesn't recognize the stone faces, but the writing he does understand, and adds his thoughts. "Could be some poor soul lost its way down here. Possibly delirious from a lack of food or water. Or maybe some creature caused its madness."
Yggdrar hears the rest of the group retreat, but he stubbornly holds his ground. He refuses to leave; He couldn't allow himself to be stopped by something so paultry! Giving an animalistic roar, he brings that flail around once more, this time with even more force behind it as he lashed out at the creature. Rage-fueled Power Attack
Drawing his heavy flail, Yggdrar accepted the potion and flask of holy water, keeping both in his belt in case one needed to be used. He was able to tell the thin metal tube was magic in nature, but that's all. The Elf was largely quiet when listening to the instructions, giving nods of understanding. With the order set, him bringing up the rear, he went in through the door last, helping close it from the inside behind them.
The Elf adds his question to the pile. "What kind of forces can we expect to be waiting for us? This is not a small group by any means. I can't imagine the enemy will be small in number, or weak in some way. I would prefer to know beforehand, what I'm getting into without having to find out for myself firsthand."
The next to arrive was a tall Elf, clad in dirty metal armor and carrying an equally-worn, but clearly sharp, scythe on his back. A large flail on his hip, and a quiver of javelins against the small of his back. This particular Elf was built like a small mountain; Nothing like the atypical willowly, lithe creatures most folks know. His face is scarred across his jawline, and a few other faded marks along his arms visible through the gaps in his armor. He strides across the room, sharing a passing glance at the Tiefling female already here, but pays her no mind for now. He did catch her comment when he entered, and thought this woman didn't look much like an ex-noble to him. He opts to stand near the desk, folding his arms across his chest as he says, in a surprisingly eloquent, if gruff, voice, "Yggdrar of the Skyhunters, reporting. I serve as an interpreter and diplomat for my tribe, as well as an example of our warriors. I can also track, and I have some magic taught to me by my Elder."
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