The clatter caused everything in the room to fall still for a moment. Then, with the rasping sound of metal on leather, the mercenaries drew their assorted knives, swords, and other weapons. Darjak bit back a curse. He couldn't see what was going, on, but the sounds were enough to make an educated guess. Looked as if there was no easy way out of this.
Slowly, praying that the mercenaries' attention was focused on the sound from the other side of the cavern, Darjak pushed the wooden lid of his crate up and off. He kept hold of it and set it silently on the stone floor. None of the six men, it looked like six as far as he could see, noticed his action. Instead, they were intent on slowly surrounding the area where the clatter had come from.
As quietly as possible, the Dwarf extricated himself from the box. His efforts were assisted a lot by the scuffling sound of the mercenaries moving feet as they positioned themselves. Still being as silent as possible, Darjak pulled his metal poker from his belt and readied it. He approached the nearest mercenary, ready to smash his weapon into the man's spine as soon as the opportunity presented itself.