The Detritus

Beneath the Haven's former ceiling, figures lie inert. Like you, each one is a bipedal, stone person, rough and angular in form where your bodies are smooth. They lie in deathly silence, buried by tonnes upon tonnes of rubble, limbs askew and bodies hidden. Their faces are simply lifeless patches of blank stone, blindly peering out at you from cracks and gaps in the wreckage. The number of Husks in the chamber is unclear; the mountain of dirt locking them in place is immense, filling the grotto with boulders up to twice the size of yourself and obscuring the true number who lie beneath.