Ten bunk beds in various stages of disrepair fill this chamber, which
must once have been a dormitory for students. The roof is mostly
intact.
The east and west walls both bear sturdy wooden doors leading
to other rooms, though the door to the east seems to be covered in some sort of fungal or moss-like growth.
"Shiney. See how it dances. Perhaps what Horgun seeks lays within the memories of dreamers lost?", pointing at the various beds. I'll go take a bit of cloth from one of the beds, cut off a small square, and gently lay out my splinters, wrap them up lovingly in the cloth and then, almost without regard for the care I just took, cram them right back in the box.
"This might be a nice place to stage a sort of headquarters for the caravan masteress and her ken? Beautiful view of the stars and all, too. I think she would be happy, or at the least less troubled."
I will step up and try to gently coax the mold to open for us, even channeling a little posite energy (Cure Light), having once heard that plants respond to love and music much as people do, though it is difficult to see.
"About sister, I sense that she is in a growing danger. Locked away in intrigues and despiration. A blood soaked field, surrounded by the eyes of many who have never seen a true battlefield, but are none-the-less fiends for the blood they force others to spill with their screams of ranting. A stage, perhaps, not like one I've seen before, a circle looming about it. Much death. She knows not the enemies she makes. Not the danger she creates. I see us there. Some of us. I feel fear. I am scarred. Little brother is excitted. Powerful. Haleen is hurt. Surprized to see you. Crying? Much blood. I am not me? I don't understand. Something is very wrong. It's all changed. Those eyes are all around us. Seeking our death and drinking our pains as some sort of sustenance. She is a warrior now."
"Not to worry lad. It's nothing a bit of elbow grease won't fix." A moment's digging in his pack produces a short and sturdy spade, the one Horgun usually applies to preparing a firepit and latrine at night. With an iron will he sets to work scraping away enough of the moss to force the doorway open again.
Horgun's shovel rips away the moss easier than expected, eventually revealed a mostly rotten oak door. There is still moss growing in among the frame, but with a sharp tug, Horgun is able to pull the door open. An earthy smell rises up from the tunnel behind the doorway. Stone steps lead down onto a landing, which turns and descends into darkness.
Seeing how none of the others are eager to make the first move, Horgun shrugs and rearms himself. "This be a mite more promising, I think. Don't seem as if them jinxed things been down this way. Now mind you, there might be a sound reason for that, so we'd best be ready for trouble." With no need for light he boldly heads down the stairs, figuring the others will sort out their own needs.