You emerge from the portal feeling like you just walked through fire, and start at the drastic change in climate. The air in this room is extremely humid, and you can feel the moisture already clinging to your clothes. Dim light seems to ooze from the ceiling, masking everything in a cloudy grey. Water drips steadily in the distance, echoing loudly off the stone walls. The smell of the place is musty and wet, and you crinkle your nose against the onslaught.
A dense layer of mist swirls about your knees as you move slowly away from the portal. Your footsteps are soundless, masked by the dense fog. As the swirling mists part for a moment, you get a brief glimpse of the wall to the side. Stone worn away by years of humidity are hung with chains spanning up and across the walls. They seem only decorations, but continue on into the floor, ceiling, and other walls around you.
Moving straight away from the portal, you come to a wall with a doorway. The door is nowhere to be found. It seems to have rotted off its hinges long ago, leaving small scraps off rotten wood, and large iron hinges still bolted into the wall. You move through the doorway and enter a small antechamber. The room is unremarkable save the smoothed shards of glass littering the floor. Wondering where all the glass came from, you step carefully toward a door in the far wall.
The door is still intact, though it shows signs of aging. You put your hand on the cool, wet steel ring and pull. The door doesn't budge. You give it another heave, and it moves a few inches, creaking loudly on its rusted hinges. The door swings open and a warm, gentle current of air swirls past you, chasing the humidity away.
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