Ged: It can't be that tough. (he wanders toward the suspected door, followed by the others)
Mongo: Lemme try that before you waste one of your spells.
Alindyar: A true mage does not waste spells.
Ged: A true mage doesn't have to worry about it.
Lyra: A true mage wouldn't waste time talking about it, either.
Alindyar: (he and Ged exchange glances, shaking their heads)

Mongo put his hammer down and began examining the discolored section of wall, hunting for a crack or seam of some kind. When he was unsuccessful, he tried pushing on the metal from various angles...also without success.

Mongo: Well, shit.
Ged: Step aside, my friend.

Muttering to Boccob, the elf worked a spell of opening which caused the metal to glow softly...and then open! The fact that it opened didn't really surprise anyone, but the sheer strength of the door did: it was almost a foot thick! The darkness beyond was total, and the dry air that rushed out of the tomb was stale.

Ged: (holds up his morningstar) Lightbringer, do your thing.
Lightbringer: With pleasure. (it begins to glow)
Bosco: Better let me take the point. (he darts in, and the others follow)
Mongo: Careful, Bosco. We don't know what's in there.
Otto: That's one hell of an understatement. The first party was made up of powerful adventurers - maybe as powerful as us - and they never came back. We need to stay sharp and be ready to deal some death.
Ged: Yea. Well said.
Belphanior: Very well said.
Songa: (claps Otto on the shoulder) Good speech.
Otto: Yeah, well...let's hope it works.
Tanya: Let's hope it doesn't have to.
Peldor: (shaking his head)

The entry chamber was practically nonexistant, consisting of a wide ramp - also of solid metal - that angled down into the darkness. Mongo moved up to join Bosco in the front row; the dwarf had seen enough dungeoneering to know when someone was nervous, and Bosco was very nervous.

Mongo: (softly) What's the matter?
Bosco: Nothing.
Mongo: Yeah, right. (he tries to lift the halfling's spirits) The mighty Bosco isn't afraid, is he?
Bosco: (shaking his head soberly as he clutches his sword) I can't explain it, but this place is...different. Something's not right here, and I've got a bad feeling.
Mongo: Stick with me, and remember, you're with friends, and they're powerful in every way you can think of. We'll be fine.

The dwarf had his own reservations, though. The stale, dry air in this place carried an odor unlike any other. It wasn't the stench of undead, or the smells of the living, or the acrid scent of a volcanic mountain. If anything, it was the lack of a familiar smell. That was it, Mongo realized; this place was something entirely different...something alien.