The portal seems to breathe a desiccated sigh of old, cool death as the door tears free and lands on the sand with a dull thud.  The breeze stirs the air, the crumbled bits of paper behind you wafting in angry little swirls; it's enough to unbalance a precarious stack of documents that topples and crashes.  Nothing besides air emerges from the chamber, however; the dark is absolute, although your abilities allow each of you to make out dozens; no, hundreds of long rectangular boxes that were once carefully stacked in rows and upon shelves.  Many are covered in rotted tatters of cloth; heaps of scraps among the sand that has managed to filter in knee-deep implies most if not all of them had such coverings once, perhaps as a protective layer or packaging.<br/><br/>At the far edge of your vision - limited by dust and toppled racks of boxes - is some sort of altar or table.  A few objects lie on it, but they are half buried in sand and impossible to make out at this distance.  An object much closer, however, is unmistakable: a human skull lies perched on top of the sand just inside the new chamber, eyeing you all with a death's head grin, a bullet hole obvious through the bone above its right eye.