Moving over a partially-obstructing rockfall, you find a cavern beyond that is nearly half-filled with skeletal remains and broken, shattered weaponry that cover the entire floor. The air is still, like nothing has disturbed this place for centuries, and your feet stir small clouds of dust in the air. As you move a little closer into the room, a formerly immobile Breastplate with a horrible rend across its center rises from the pile of the dead!
A ghostly male form fills out the rest of its body, and it rushes toward you, hands outstretched, and it wails,
“You must help me! You have to give me aid! On the holy right hand of Tyr, YOU MUST HELP ME!.