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Bronn pulls his head out from the darkened space beyond the opening and thinks a moment as he looks down the corridor.

"So, you were ambushed by zombies here? And they broke through the brick to get at you? Have a look down there...another bricked in doorway. Let's have a look in here for anything worth taking, but exercise caution when continuing down the hall lest we repeat the past experience."

Ubrecht holds up his holy symbol. "When ye do bash down the wall, the glory o' Moradin be ready to shine on them and drive them away."

Bronn will cautiously enter the space beyond the rubble, sword drawn and ready.

Pyrrhic maintains a watchful eye on where the party came from, as he follows the formation.

Searching about, you find nothing in the room besides dirt, dust, and rubble.

Bronn exits the chamber empty handed and makes a gesture down the corridor.

"Shall we?"

Moving ahead, Dren cautiously scouts ahead down the corridor, past the remains of the undead that they had laid low previously and on into the dim light ahead. Once past the area that the zombies stumbled through, he slows his progress, straining to hear any noise and edging forwards scanning the floor, walls and ceiling for signs of danger.

As his eyes adjust to the darkness, Dren wonders not for the first time how he came to do this as a living. The Hin traditionally love good earth and the safety of the Hearth, both of which are in short supply in these dank and dangerous halls. But then where are the secrets in that? .... what is there to learn that no-one else has known? .... no .... here in the darkness Dren treads the halls of antiquity, uncovering lost secrets ... be they good or bad....... that is adventure, excitement and danger.

Mortiganto waits until Dren is almost out of sight and then follows slowly, weapon at the ready.

Nightsong watches as Dren moves quietly among the lingering darkness of the crypt. He sees him stop, looking over the floor and angling his head to look for some unseen mechanism that an elf of the great wood could only imagine. The craftsman way he goes about his business is incredibly interesting, perhaps even a bit entertaining. Nightsong has always enjoyed watching experts ply their trade. And watching Dren moving through the darkness gave that feeling again and again. A smirk came to Nightsongs face as he watched, yet again, as Dren scrabbled through the darkness making the way safe for those behind him. Nightsong only hoped he could return the favor with a true shot from his bow should things go sideways.

Peaches moves along as well, whistling some nameless tune. Her manservant Claude follows, but does not whistle.

Ubrect stands ready, holding the symbol of Moradin in his hand.

Bronn keeps pace with the others, out front but behind Dren's scouting. He keeps his eyes fixed firmly as they approach the bricked in wall further down the corridor.

The torchlight reveals the bricked up door to the right of the party as the slowly pass it by, unconsciously giving it a wide berth. Dren continues to probe the floor, ever vigilant to discover any traps that may lie along the way. As he reaches the end of the corridor where it is blocked by a closed door, he is confident that the way is clear for the others.

Looking about, there are three areas to advance into. The bricked door could possibly be knocked open but experience has taught the older members the noise that such an action creates. Ten feet past the bricked door and on the opposite side of the hall is a closed door. Likewise, the hall itself ends in a closed door.

Actions?

Guesturing to the bricked up door, Dren silently shakes his head and wags his finger dismissively.

He then mimes listening to the first closed door, putting his hand to his ear, before cautiously approaching it and checking for traps, before listening.

Bronn gives Dren a thumbs up and flashes him a toothy grin that ends up looking macabre in the flickering torchlight.

Ubrecht, still holding on to his holy symbol, nods solemnly at Dren.

Dren carefully approaches the door, checking around the knob and frame but everything looks clear, there are no traps as far as he can tell. Then, cupping his ear to the door, he tries to listen in for any evidence of noise but there is nothing to hear as well.

Nodding to himself as much as anyone, Dren motions for the others to move up and then draws his blade before opening the door as quietly as possible.

Bronn moves up quietly to stand behind Dren. Once the door is open, he will wait and listen, casting his attention into the space beyond the door.

He is ready to block the opening and protect Dren, should something rush them from inside.

Dren quietly opens the door waiting to see what occurs. In the silence a distinctive click is heard followed by the snap of bow string. Flinching, expecting the sting of a crossbow bolt, Dren cringes but the pain never comes. Squinting, he sees a rusty crossbow on the opposite wall. The bolt is still on the barrel, the string which propels the bolt snapped.

From behind the other door comes the sound of moaning and scratching on wood.