Laszlo sees the next trap long before he smells it, slats are set all along the walls ahead, likely for great ponderous blades to flick out of. The is no jumping this one, the pressure sensitive flooring stretches the length of the trap, some thirty feet. There is a keyhole in the wall. He'd seen no keyring on the guards, this must lead beyond their beat, and a good thing too. He pulls his roll of picks out of his pack.<br/><br/><em>"Wait,"</em>Anethrial whispers, padding towards him in the darkness,<em>"Are you hurt? I'm a healer... I could help you."</em><br/><br/>Laszlo says nothing, setting a pick into the first tumbler. The wounds are closed, and the girl had already cost him too much time and blood today. He has neither the time nor the patience. He jiggers the tumbler, hearing a slight click, and reaches in with a second, applying light pressure. Another click, a third is employed. He scopes out the lock with his fourth pick, three more tumblers remain. He sets the fourth tumbler, and works at the fifth, carefully working around those already set.<br/><br/>"We're nearly there," He says as the tumbler clicks, he tucks it into his cluttered left hand, his right pulling out the final pick. "If you want to help, you'll stay out of the way while I work." The final tumbler catches, and he slowly twists the picks, feeling the mechanism slide, "That guard is going to be found soon," It stops, and a slight clunk is audible behind the stone, "there's no time for your incantations."<br/><br/>Laszlo steps out onto the stone, feels the slight shift of the pressure plate accepting his weight. No blades fly from the walls ahead, he strides forward, confidant that the vault must be nearly at hand.<br/><br/>"Come on, more traps means we're getting close."<br/><br/>He tucks his picks away, feeling the strain in his heart as it pounds to keep his remaining blood flowing.