"No bowl have I. Is the dog sick?"
Akula would not think the dog sick, but rather malnourished having no source of adequate food since the Shaping. She tosses the trail rations into the small room on the ground before the dog. It sniffs the air, then slowly limps forward to investigate. When it finds the food, it quickly eats and lowers it head as it looks towards the barricaded door.
"Just malnourished from the look of it," Akula explained.
Along the east wall a single door is ajar. Next to it a wooden cupboard sits undisturbed. It's right-hand doors is open, revealing several shelves of wooden plates, bowls and larger platters.
The elf gets a bowl so that the warpriest can fill it with water.
"Only a few days can a creature survive without water. Someone cared for the dog."
Akula slid the bowl on the floor past Toraim's shield and then prayed quietly. The bowl filled with water.
Te dog quickly eats the food offered by the group. When Akula slides the bowl into the room, the dog sniffs the air. When it fills with water, it slinks forward and gives it a quick taste before retreating into the corner. Only after the group moves back into the northern corridor, does it drink.
Using the keys found on the undead guards previously, the group enters the eastern room and opens both doors to find a pair of stairwells, one leading up and the other down. Nothing else is found in the room other than the armor and weapons carried by the two guards.
"Shut the door. I'll take the lead," Toraim proposes, motioning to the door to the stairs leading down as he raises his shield as heads to the second floor...
As they leave the dog, Ysildaë makes sure to leave the door ajar. Even the meanest of beasts deserves hope. She then follows Toriam, backing him up with her spear.
Toraim begins to descend the stairs underground. It winds down twenty steps by the dwarf's count and opens into a room before him. He can make out a worktable and chair on the far wall, along with an empty weapon rack and a armor rack holding a half finished breastplate. On the ground before the workbench, a decaying skeleton lies crumpled in a fetal position a tarnished sword lays at its side. The musty room smells stale and the rancid smell of rotting meat lightly hangs in the air.
"Let me do a quick scan for auras," Akula said quietly. Her eyes took on the warm red-gold glow of her goddess' light.
Akula shuffles forward. Looking over the dwarf she scans the room, but does not see any magical auras emanating from the Ether. The air is still with no sound.
"Clear," she said quietly.
As Akula scans the room, Toraim prays. After she clears the room, the dwarf nods, readies his blade and steps inside the room...
Ysildaë moves into the room ready to impale any undead who might charge the dwarf.
Maria hangs back, looking tired and concerned.
As the group partially enters the basement, another weapon rack comes into view along the southern wall. A cold forge is built into the western wall beyond a large anvil mounted to a stone block set into the stone floor. Five feet to north of the anvil, a mace and broad sword lay unfinished upon an old wooden table.
Just out of reach of the dwarf, a round grate covers a rough hole in the floor. A small room in the northwest corner of the basement. It's door is closed just beyond the grate. Along the north wall, beyond the closed door, a large pile of refuse lies undisturbed.
Toraim moves in and places himself atop the grate that covers the rough hole in the floor. Sword in hand, he is ready to defend himself against any undead lurking in the shadows, or to use his shield – and his own weight – to cover the grate should something attempt to crawl out...
The elven noblewoman checks the corpse to make sure it won't arise and attack them.
"Akula, does something lurk in the rubish pile?
Akula picked up a nearby piece of detritus and tossed it hard into the refuse pile.
Toraim looks down through the grate to see what appears to be an old sewer system that is now dry and stinks of sulphur. Looking north, he sees a solid iron door in the northwest corner.
Ysildaë finds no sign of injury upon the corpse. He appears to have died of natural causes.
Akula tosses a small stone at the debris pile without any reaction other than a bit of dust which floats upward. Examining the pile from a distane, it appears to be composted food and human waste covered by small stones and some discarded, broken wooden planks.
"A forge at last we have found. Choose a door to check."
The knowledge of what happened to this person surpasses her understanding.
The devout dwarven priest nods, speaks a short prayer to the goddess, and waits until his companions are at his side to open the door...
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Searching the corpse, she finds a well-used dagger and a short sword. A small pouch on its belt contains 12 silver and 4 gold pieces. It's leather armor reeks of smell of death. As she rises from the body, she notices a dark birth mark behind its right ear. Looking closer it appears to be tattoo of a backwards "R" sharing the same spine to an "F". When she looks over the work bench, she finds some standard smithing tools as well as a set of parchments bearing scematics of several devices. However, the elf cannot fathom the purpose for which they would be used.
Curious.
She alerts the others to what she has found. "Pages there are of devices cunning, Toriam."
She then moves to support the dwarf. Either opening the doo's latch with the spear or using the keys or turning the knob.
"I'd like to take a look at those papers, Ysildaë. I am familiar with many kinds of mechanics, and other such things. But later, of course."
Maria slowly walks towards Ysildaë, looking tired and worried, but intrigued by these papers and the room as a whole.
"I wonder what that tattoo means," Akula mused.
Ysildaë stands behind Toraim and uses her longspear to lift the latch that holds the door closed. It swings open with a loud screech. The room beyond contains several opened crates.
Ysildaë searches the crates to find them empty. From the marking on the exterior, they were food supplies and rations. She surmises that part of the refuse pile outside the room is the remnants from these crates. As she turns to leave, she sees an open barrel. Stepping close, she can see that the water little remaining water is rancid.
"The other room we should check."
"Aren't watertight barrels hard to come by these days?" Akula asked.
"Mayhap," the elf nods, "Yet that seems a thought best suited for when we have cleared the prison, yes? All things should be put to a proper use at a proper time."
Continuing the mission with steadfast resolve and determination, Toraim takes the position in front of the room's other door, ready to strike. We're unlikely to find anything in there, he ponders, but better safe than sorry.
"Let us be done with this quickly."
Thinking of the dog in the other room, Akula dumped out the rancid water, turning her face away from the smell.
Then she rejoined Toraim at the front of the group, ready to continue forth.
As the putrid water flows through the grate in the floor, the group assembles before the large iron door. Toraim holds the massive shield out as Akula steps up to the door. Noticing the hinges on the outside, the half-orc knows the door opens outward making the dwarfs maneuver to block the open doorway that much more difficult. With a silent countdown, she prepares to swing open the door and allow the priest to step into the doorframe, pinning his shield across the opening. However, as she pulls, the door doesn't budge. It's locked.