Lisabelle, relieved the fighting has ended with little bloodshed - of their own - offers thanks the Albino Elk. She glances around the room, taking a mental inventory of everyone's whereabouts and well being. A hereunto unknown fear swept over her when the room was enclosed in fog. Never before had she been so terrified of being cut off, alone, and directionless. She quickly asks others if they are hurt and begins to administer healing to them.
Blackbird moves toward the stone door to the south and prepares to open it, then stops and calls to Miranda and Piker. "Might one of you know a thing or two about stone doorways in vaults?" He stands aside and allows one of them to approach - gesturing toward the closed door. "Take caution Miranda ... You weren't privy to my earlier attempt at disarming a trapped chest."
While Miranda gathers the silver and gold instruments of worship (value 50 GP) left to time atop the abandoned altar, she hears her name called. Putting the last of the items into her bag, she dashes to Blackbird's side to be of assistance. Taking her time, and using great caution, she looks for traps on the stone door as well as floor before it, the walls next to it, and the ceiling above.
From all she can tell there appears to be a Wall Blade trap rigged to this thick stone door. There is no sign of a device trigger or control. Her best guess is that simply opening the door releases the limb severing blade from it's recess. And she is uncertain if the blade resides in the ceiling, the floor, or either of the walls. "Because," she tells Blackbird, "there are precisely as many slits cut out of the stone surrounding this door..."
Ptolmek Skarab receives aide from Lisabelle, and feels an inward rejuvenation overcome him. Not since his youth had he ever been more ready to stand, and fight again. And fighting was uncalled for, the battle had already been won! With joy and excitement he joins Blackbird near the stone door. Gripping his enchanted steel mace, which begins to glow in anticipation as well, both are ready to head into the fray once more.
The clearly audible clink of metal cleaving from metal issues forth from somewhere behind the stone door as Miranda stands to her feet and backs up several steps. The sound is followed by the slowly increasing slither of chain links sliding through hidden passageways. Quicker and quicker the snake coils it's way forward to it's final destination. Slower and slower the collective breath of the party shallows.
Suddenly, the crashing clang of massive cymbals sound on either side of the stone door. A blast of stale dusty air shoots out covering Miranda, Piker, and Blackbird in ancient dust. And still the sound of chains coiling down onto some unseen chamber floor continues.
"We'd better make haste before the upper blade decides to drop," Miranda states flatly. She pushes the stone door firmly, and with little effort it swings aside to rest in a recess inside the hallway.
Through a seemingly one sided conversation, Morcant apologizes to the party for setting the tapestry ablaze. Most everyone is too keyed up with nervous tension over the trapped door to listen. In retrospect, he thinks to himself, the fire was not such a wonderful notion.
When the halfling declared the door trap free Morcant decided it was time to take Gurin with him to wander the southern hallway. The armory should be just ahead, and he felt as most of the others did, that this was a room they needed to explore. He was quite certain, however, they would be searching for a secret entrance.
Gurin woke suddenly, regaining full control of his axe and both legs. His quick cat nap left him feeling rejuvenated, if not confused about how he could doze during such a scuffle. Suddenly, Gurin had a driving passion to search for a secret armory, and he began following Morcant like a loyal puppy.
Moving quickly past the others, Gurin bursts down the hallway into thickening darkness. On either side of him rise the impenetrable granite walls from which the vaults were carved. Yet somehow, he appears to be searching for seams, cracks, fissures, or ... doors. "Ah ha!" he exclaims.
Turning like a soldier on command to his right, Gurin presses his stout form against the wall. To Morcant he appears like a penitent man prostrate across the floor before his god. Arms extended left and right, Gurin runs his fingers smoothly over the surface searching for what his soul tells him surely exists.
What do you do?