Sue
Sharpness is the least thing he encounters on his way down the stairs. Moist with the liquid of recent rains, strange moss grows upon the steps - even in the deprivation of light, from which they usually are found near. This moss is sickeningly wet, and feels like a soggy spongy. Thankfully, the heavy scent of oil in the air masks any wet-dog smell that would be created from this. He passes by several wall scones, all of which hold no torches - and do not seem to have done so for some time. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs and turning to the right he is able to take in the entire room. Two large rectangular tables made of granite sit in the middle of the room, with only a few feet between one another. Four pillars flank the corners of these tables, and upon the table is a wide variety of tools too esoteric for Ashnard to make any sense of them. A variety of bronze skeletal pieces are scattered upon them, alongside jars of red goop - which faintly glows. Brushes and tools seemingly meant for carving can be found, alongside what (presumably) is the source of the oil smell, several jars of black tar and fat-like oil. 

On the opposite end of the room stands a sight quite disturbing for any creature - a six foot or so tall thing, in the shape of a Macen skeleton. Though several bones seem fused, especially in the feet and elsewhere - alongside the ribs, which seem fused together into a singular piece. A faint red glow emanates from the gaps below and above the chest - from which the spine, which is thicker than a normal spine runs down. The skull is exceptionally realistic looking - with impeccable white teeth, and eyes - which seem to be a dead crimson for now. Ashnard has no clue what the dwarves could be looking for in here, though his best guess would likely be whatever is glowing within the assembled things chest...

The three guards charge forwards across the battlements, just as one of the guards in the tower rushes down a ladder to the second story of the tower, approaching the door and grasping his weapon anxiously - attempting to muster the courage to burst out of the tower, only to find himself unable to move from place, frozen in fear. He fights with his desire to aid his comrades in-arms, and the natural survival instinct which drives all creatures to protect themselves. Regardless, those outside who have already determined their course of action charge forwards - though not recklessly, as they steel themselves against whatever taunts this woman has to throw at them.
Preston
*And to think elves fancy themselves as more elegant than anyone else,* Ashnard scoffed under his breath upon feeling the sodden moss beneath his feet. The humidity made it feel more like he was exploring a cavern than a fortress, and the constant feeling that *Something* Was amiss plagued him like an itch he could not scratch. His hackles stood on end, and Ashnard found himself grinding his teeth as he moved on cautiously to the lab-like room.

Images long-suppressed in memory flashed before his eyes at the macabre sights of carving tools and skeletons. *I was imprisoned in a room like that myself not too long ago...* Ashnard reminisced bitterly, causing an intense ringing echo in his ears that nearly drove him to his knees. The hound's foothold grew shaky, forcing himself to press onward and balance himself with his palms atop one of the tables. Nostrils flared between heaving breaths as he struggled to maintain his composure and assess all hints he could find inside that room. Sparing nary a glance at the crude tools and substances, Ashnard's gaze focused on that humanoid skeleton structure on the opposite end, his eyes narrowing like serpentine slits.

*Nothing reminds of Silnari quite like grafted bones and occult sorcery.* Ashnard approached the skeletal form, fur bristled and alert in any sign of movement. *Let's see what you're made of...* Once within distance, he deftly pressed one hand between the thing's ribs, aiming to yank out whatever the source of that ominous crimson glow was... All the while his own crimson patterns carved across his armourer plating resonated with it.
Sue
With each step he makes towards the skeletal being, the runes carved into its bronze exterior become clearer and clearer. Runes which, by all accounts, seem completely alien to Ashnard. Despite this, he lowers himself down and reaches his right arm into the gap at the bottom of the solid-one piece ribcage. Just as he feels some kind of unnatural heat gracing his skin, the skeletons eyes blaze to life, red as hot iron. Its left arm snaps into action, quickly grasping Ashnards forearm and forcefully yanking it from out of its ribcage, slamming his hand against the hard metal on its way out. If that wasn't enough, the being quickly twists his arm - causing it to hurt like hell, but not doing significant damage or disabling it.

After that, it eaves Ashnard no time to recover before reaching down and grabbing him by his neck with his right arm, quickly pulling him back as he twists his body to the right, and violently rotating back into a forwards position, throwing his arms forwards and launching Ashnard across the room, causing him to slide across one of the tables, roll onto the ground, and slam into the wall. Luckily for him, the being doesn't seem to have any intent to quickly follow up as it walks at a leisure pace towards him.

The three guards are taken by surprise when Mizu dashes forwards, their swords flying pitifully through the air and well out of the way of Mizu - and though they could course correct, it seems they put too much strength into their swings, causing them to be unable to redirect the blades into her. Taking advantage of this, she stabs the middle guards neck. The middle guard, eyes wide with horror drops his weapon and tumbles into the ground - nearly slamming into Mizu. Gurgling comes from him as he drowns in his own blood, but perhaps as a sign of mercy - or maybe because she didn't want to risk the guard being a threat in the future, she thrusts downwards into the heart of the guard - killing him on the spot.