Thrift takes a deep breath, preparing another long-winded and reference-laden explanation.
Before long, the group stands before a towering, triangular door. Sensing their presence, conduits in the walls flicker dimly to life, as the door splits in two and slowly sinks into the floor with a long, echoing screech.
Facelift winces- an interesting display for a being whose sole facial feature was a single eye.
"Ouch," he comments. "This place has seen better eons."
Through the door was a wide hallway, lit only by shafts of sunlight poking through the clouds and the jagged holes in the ceiling. The light falls upon worn cyberglyphic inscriptions in the walls, smashed columns supporting angled walls, and crumbling metal statues of cybertronian knights.