The Half-orc takes a few moments to return to awareness. He wipes the foam from his mouth, and checks his wounds for severity. Satisfied that he is not in distress, he goes about the routine of cleaning up the mess he just created. Wiping the blood from his axe, he says, "If the rumors are true, you will want to get yourself a weapon. They say these rooms are all over the place down here. Rooms where your books provide no defense against the darkness. Your exit is this way." He points down the eastern corridor. "There's a tavern up there where you can rest, and read or whatever, and I'm sure you'll be able to find the adventuring party you lost if they made it out alive. You're lucky I needed a drink, or you would have been Ogre food."
Lifting a small pouch from the beheaded one, he says, "We're in luck; this one liked shiny things." He pulls out a handful of jewelry. This should be enough for a trip back up, a drink, a meal, and a bed for each of us."
He then strolls down the corridor, past a couple bends, to a square room that tapers up to a circular dome overhead. In the middle of the dome is a 20-foot diameter shaft that leads up beyond your range of vision. The faintest sounds of community can be heard from above; almost like a memory of civilization to those below. The room is covered in a layer of sand, with odds and ends half buried in it. Most of those odds and ends are bones of humanoids and other creatures. There are also a series of shields on mounting boards surrounding the room. Most of the heraldry on the shields have been lost to time.
After a fair amount of shouting and assurances of payment, a rope is lowered from above and the Half-orc wraps it around himself and is pulled up, up, up to the tavern above. Sometime after, the rope is lowered again for the next passenger.