Campaigners

Tavin stopped halfway through the entrance into the chamber and scanned it thoroughly from floor to lofty ceiling. It had the look of an ancient cell, though the girth of the enormous chains dangling from the ceiling and walls led Tavin to wonder what prisoners it was meant to hold. He felt a chill as he noted that some of the chains appeared to have been snapped off.

The room itself was small but high. A warm golden glow spilled into the chamber from somewhere above, the illumination welcome after the hours they'd spent picking their way along dark passages by torchlight. The floor was a screen of thick oaken beams - seemingly strong, but with a large opening in the middle. Whether it descended to another chamber or to a vast drop Tavin could not tell.

At his back Halbarad shifted and muttered,

"If we do not hasten my beard will be long and grey before we reach our prize!"

Tavin glanced briefly back with a scowl and returned,

"If your wish is to find all the traps and pitfalls in our path, by all means proceed with good speed!"

Halbarad grumbled but stood where he was, his broadaxe planted between his wide feet. Behind him Pikolo smirked but stayed silent - the thief had no desire to antagonize the hulking northman again.

Tavin returned his attention to the chamber. The doorway that left the room stood midway along the adjacent wall, the orange glow of a torch beckoning, but Tavin's instints had him wary and on edge. Something was wrong.

He closed his eyes briefly, performed a quick three-breath clearing ritual, and muttered a low incantation.

When he opened his eyes the room swam in a haze, as if he were observing through clear winter ice. As he turned his focus to parts of the chamber they snapped into clarity far sharper than any normal vision - every spot, every scratch, every stain standing out and crying for his notice.

He moved his gaze through the room trying to isolate that which had him so nervous. A skull. A metal plate. A massive, heavy chain.

And finally, there it was. Not something that bothered him; rather, something missing.

He allowed the focus spell to disperse and scanned the room to verify what he'd thought: every chain, every wall sconce, even the bars of the gate that blocked the next corrider, were covered in a noticeable layer of ash and dust.

The floor, however, was bare and clean.

Just as he was about to speak Halbarad exploded, "Enough! The room is safe!" and began to move towards the opposite door.

Tavin slapped a barring arm across his leather breastplate and brought the burly warrior up short.

"Look!" he whispered.

Halbarad seemed to shrink as Tavin pointed out the unnaturally clean beams; the tiny, almost imperceptable wires that held all the seemingly random debris on the floor in place; and the thin, innocuous seam that ran from one corner of the floor to the opposite wall.

Tavin stood, quietly pleased with his discovery.

"Proceed if you must, Master Halbarad, but I must warn you: as soon as you open that rough gate beyond, I am quite certain this floor will drop from under you like the deck of a ship on stormy seas."

"And I feel confident that you will not like what you find below."