"A gift, from a secret benefactor who I will tell you more about in due time." Rasziel calmly turns and answers his companion as his deed is finished. "Now, shall we?" He continues, motioning for the massive bearded warrior to lead the way into the mountain.

The massive bearded warrior nods to Rasziel with approval as the way forward opens. He takes note of the sinister scarred man's disheveled appearance and thoroughly soaked attire, but says nothing. Zephyros knows there are things in this world best left unsaid. He knows the burdens one must carry alone all too well. "We shall." The warrior says in response as he places his fingers between the doors and pulls (or pushes) them open and enters into Axeholm.

 "I await with bated breath. That was hardly the cantrip of some lowly hedge wizard." Lady Alisande looks far from satisfied by Rasziel's explanation, inwardly rueing the incineration of such a powerful incantation, when it might have made a fine addition to her deplorably barren spellbook. "What other marvels are you hiding up your sleeves, merchant?"

As Zephyros pushes open the fractionally parted gates to Axeholm, the mage's ears catch the plaintive wail reverberating through the breach. She freezes on the spot, one hand instinctively going to her blade. "Another point in favour of Tragedy of Fates, then. The rumours of stirrings within the forsaken bastion are true."

She follows the muscular warrior and the sinister scarred man into the gloom, with Ozymandias skipping behind in her wake. 

"Is that how you view me, a lowly hedge wizard?" The young purple-robed dark-haired man with the sinister-looking scar says with a brief grin. "And you are welcome to check my sleeves at any time, but rest assured that I will share what is needed to accomplish our goals. If you are truly interested in knowing all about me and what is up my sleeves I suggest we take care of that over a bottle of good red wine once we are back in civilization." He adds with something of a playful tease to the young red-haired lady, then turning his attention to what is up ahead.

As the group enters the fortress, they quickly realize that there is no light within. Pitch-black darkness shrouds the ancient dwarven home. Just past the double doors, the fortress opens into a large room, its walls disappearing into darkness, including above you.

Recognizing the need, Gareth pulls a torch from his pack, illuminating the space after setting it aflame.

This great hall has a 40-foot-high ceiling supported by four thick stone pillars. A thick layer of dust covers the flagstone floor. In the middle of each wall past the entrance is a double door. Arrow slits are set high up in the north and south walls, and a small stone balcony protrudes from the wall above the east exit, 20 feet above the floor.

Once inside, the eerie song heard when the doors cracked open is more prominent. You can make out the words to the song as you get your bearings. 

Silver fades and starlight dies,
The mountain dreams beneath the stone.
Once I danced ‘neath crystal skies,
Now I sing, forever alone.

Dwarves of pride and hammers bright,
Your laughter echoes still in vain.
You sealed the gates to flee the blight,
And left me to my song of pain.

Lyra cocks her head as she watches Rasziel cast the spell that unlocks the great doors, a puzzled look flickering across her face. How curious that he's been holding onto such a spell all this time ... after first suggesting they break the doors down and then letting Meira work with her tools!

The halfling raises an index finger toward the purple-robed man, clearly about to point this out. But then, seeing the exchange between him and Alisande—ending with his playful suggestion that they further discuss over a bottle of red wine—she blinks, pauses… and lowers the finger again. Even she knows better than to meddle in someone else's flirtation!

The cleric of Tymora follows everyone inside, thanking Gareth for bringing a little light into the eerie hall. As the haunting song grows clearer, she slows, head tilted, trying to pinpoint where the voice is coming from. Does it seem to come from any particular direction? She can’t help but feel surprised that the hall is otherwise empty—she had almost expected to find bodies lying around! (Perception: 18)

Then leans toward Meira and whispers, "Not that I want to criticize this particular singer, but honestly ... I like your music best!" Her tone is light, almost teasing—an new effort to try sound cheerful, even as a shiver runs down her spine. This place is a bit scary, and they've only just stepped into the hall!