While Tha'ael had not noticed any traps around the doors, a bit of walk towards the end of the corridor revealed to her that while many of the floor-plates had some old moss growing between them one of the sections was entirely without moss. In fact, there seemed to be a small bit of breeze touching her hand from the cracks around the floor-plate. Walking along the hallway, two by two, the first one there walking on the left side of the hallway would have been probably introduced to a sudden drop and a sharp stop. It wasn't a particularily well made trap, but it did look like it had been there for a fair while.<br/><br/>The eyes of a veteran dwarf would notice something about the stonework too. While a lot of it was old, some of it was recently done, fixes and reinforcements, as well as some signs of reconstruction. Some rooftiles above them in the hallway had been changed, as had a larger floorplate ahead, before which Tha'ael had paused.<br/><br/>Tavah's efforts with the closed door earned a creaking noise soon enough, and then with a sound of groaning, complaining wood being dragged along stone as he forced the entryway to open, the room beyond smelling stale. The room square room there showed a rusting iron-maiden at the back wall, with a brazzier left nearby with iron tongs set into it. There was a table laid out there at the middle with tools upon it for causing anguish to people, and a larger table with chains set a bit further off, with manacles attached that would have allowed a person to be stretched over it to cause pain if someone chose to use the table for such.<br/><br/>There was also scattered pieces of a full plate mail laying about, with the Realm's seal on it. Male full plate mail about a human's size. Partially coated in blood, especially the helmet. From the looks of it the armor had mostly been splattered on the outside, only the blood in the helmet from inside, and not enough to necessarily mean its wearer had died.<br/><br/>Old journal rested on the torturer's table, bound with leather strap around it, and a single glass orb resting on top of the strap. The frail-looking orb having green gas within that seemed to shift like a storm bottled into the sphere. Craftwork unlike what orcs would even know how to make.