[Suzerain of Sheol]

"Hmm, I've do doubt we'll speak later, "it" and I. I have many questions for it. But first..." Shealtiel advances ahead of the group and approaches the door of the armory. It is solid wood, several inches thick, reinforced with steel banding, likely barred from the other side.

Reaching out a long-fingered hand, he rests his fingertips against the door, closing his eyes briefly. Something leaks out from the points where he touches the door: a web of decay spreading over the wood and steel. Cracks appear, and rust, and then... dust, as the entire structure falls away to nothing.

That spell took a noticeable toll on his plundered power, but Shealtiel is still unwearied by the sorcery, with enough reserves to spare should things turn violent.

The entrance to the Armory stands open before them.