As soon as Schnupfen drifted into the dungeon core chamber, he found himself accosted by the Oracle, who also seemed to be rummaging through the keepers' unused assets. Before Schnupfen could so much as greet it, the cosmic siphonophore rattled off a rather passive-aggressive observation. New eyes protruded from either side of the shadow's head, their odd glow visible inside his hood. For now, he seemed more confused than anything, having not expected the otherworldly being to care about such practical matters. "I-"

Oblivious, the Oracle bulldozed straight through Schnupfen's attempted protestation, pronouncing additional reprimands a very theatrical manner that Schnupfen thought rather excessive given its very limited audience. As the Oracle zeroed in on the shadow to criticize him specifically, the baffled and indignant Schnupfen could only dumbly follow its gesture toward the unflattering caricature on the wall. The sight of himself, reduced to little more than a giant schnoz half-shrouded in dark rags and thusly immortalized in solid stone. Going cross-eyes, he reached up and put a claws hand on his nose as if trying to hide it. After a second or two, though, he ended that exercise in futility and turned his angry gaze on the Oracle, the concentric collapse of his psychedelic eyes quickened.

"It can't be that important to you if you haven't bothered to set any traps yourself. Unlike some specters, I might add!" Schnupfen crossed three pairs of arms. Had that damnable entity guessed that he felt self-conscious about taking so long with the pitfall, and now sought to rub salt in the wound? Well, that wouldn't fly! "And what have you been doing all this time? Scratching the walls in here?" As he looked around at the Oracle's carvings, trying to find the right words to put together a stinging rebuke about the siphonophore's creative ability (or lack thereof) an idea occurred to him. If this argument escalated, the profoundly magical Oracle would have an extreme advantage over him, and crawling away as a snotty mess would do little to improve his self-image. Why fight with barbs when brains could do the trick?

After a brief moment, Schnupfen heaved a sigh and shrugged. "Well...it's clear you have some creative talent, at least." Hopefully no sarcasm leaked out into that patently false assertion. As he spoke, his eyes disappeared to avoid glowering. "But then, you should know better than anyone that you [i]can't rush art[/i]. Your art is the petroglyph and graven bas-relief; mine is the devious and incontrovertible snare, its cunning beauty revealed in a single, lethal instant." He bent down, took the falling rock trap gem, and lifted it up. With a deft flick of his thumb he flipped it into the air like a coin, where its crystalline facets refracted the light of the dungeon core. He snatched it out of the air, then held it out pinched between his middle and index fingers, his other hand imperiously held behind his back. "I trust you to make the most of your chosen medium, Oracle; I can only pray that you allow me to work in mine."

Manifesting a longer arm at the bottom of his wispy trunk like a tail, Schnupfen collected the other trap crystals, including the arrow traps and guillotine shrine. He then offered the Oracle a curt bow of farewell and made himself scarce. He did another lap of the dungeon, going counter-clockwise, in an effort to decisively place these new traps. Though the shadow did not know the exact nature of the guillotine shrine, he got the feeling that it would be best placed at a crossroads where dungeon invaders could be expected to spend the most time, and perhaps fight a battle or two, to improve the odds of adventurers stumbling or being pushed into the mechanism. That made L12 the best choice, since O13 would be too close to the pitfall trap. As for the arrow traps, putting one against the wall of P18 was obvious, so that it could shoot straight up through the narrow hall once the pressure plate at P10 was pressed. He considered putting it on the north side wall of P6 as well, but then the arrow launchers could be much more readily reached and disarmed.

The other arrow trap took a little more planning, but before long Schnupfen set up the launchers on the M12 wall and the pressure plate at M9. From there, it could cover the other hallway, and if any fools attempted to disarm it they would be in deliciously close proximity to the guillotine shrine. Of course, those arrows would be deadlier in the left-hand hall if N7 and N8 got filled up again to limit possible avenues of escape, but hopefully intruders would be too focused on the guillotine shrine for spacial awareness once the arrows started flying. Now more than ever, Schnupfen bemoaned the face that he hadn't helped plan the dungeon layout with Muste ahead of time; it really could have been so much more efficient.

Now, the shadow had only one trap left, the falling rock. Truth be told, he hadn't given his act of dropping the rock on that human much thought. It never occurred to him as a 'heroic' deed, merely a necessary part of his job. Now that the Oracle had pointed it out, though, Schnupfen couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of extra significance when it came to this rock trap. Compliments were a precious and rare commodity in a place like this, even ones as backhanded as the Oracle's. He decided to put it at G8 as a last resort against anyone who managed to get that far. As long as one defender remained at the core -probably Kleine- to manually trigger it, the rock could crush the first adventurer to reach the dungeon core, and depending on its size, block off access for the others. Then once the dungeon raid ended, Kleine could simply use her powers to reset the rock trap and open the core threshold once more!

With everything decided, Schnupfen's task was done. Unfortunately, that left him with nothing else to do, and he couldn't exactly curl up like a bored dog and go to sleep. After thinking for a few moments, Schnupfen checked the stash of materials. There weren't a lot of good options, sadly. A tree branch would have suited his purposes much better, but he didn't know if it was day or night outside, and he didn't feel like checking. With a little creativity, he fashioned crude broom using fabric and bone, then began to sweep the floors. Thanks to all the recent excavation, the dungeon was very dusty, too dusty for his sensitive nostrils. Either he or the dust would have to go, and it wasn't going to be him.