Turning his head at the sound of stone grinding on stone, Galadren watches as Dunor opens first one sarcophagi, and then another.
Inside are, predictably enough, the remains of people - but also some items that had to be magical given their quality and condition.
For a moment, Galadren hesitates as he recalls how it felt to be resurrected, only to find that all of his priceless gear had been unceremoniously stripped from his body by tomb robbing adventurers at some point. That moment quickly passes as his shoulder where the hobgoblin arrow had hit twinges in pain - they needed this stuff more, right now. Galadren could always return it later, right?
"I'll take that - you guys can have the rest."
Galadren says as he eagerly snatches up the crossbow, experimenting with the winch and knobs with the same glee a child might have for a new toy.
Finally, the elf looks back up, sighting along the emptied crossbow as he does so.
"Looks like we've got three choices as to where to go next - the doors that I heard rats and something else behind, the painting room, and that stairway over there. Which way are we going first?"