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Message: <blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1625863" data-attributes="member: 2292">They wait.And wait.And wait.There is no sound of chirping crickets in the background, but they get the feeling there should be.  The entire cave is silent.  Whatever Dagrus is, he isn't punctual about providing aid."Maybe Dagrus already dead?" Yip wonders aloud.  "We aren't that lucky," Geoffrey says.  He looks at the stairs warily, lowering his mace.  "It's more likely that he just doesn't care about his comrades fate."(Halgo glances at the cold corpse of the sulrathi wizard."Good call," he mutters.)"We keep waiting?" Blarth asks."No," Geoffrey says.  "Whatever's up there is probably waiting for our magic to run out, or its building up some spells of its own.  Lets not give it any more of an advantage.""Yip go scout?""No, too dangerous.  It already knows we're here, and we don't want you being ambushed while we're to far back to help.  Take the lead and watch for spells, the rest of us will follow."The cleric swings his arm a few times, working feeling back into tired muscles."Lets go meet this Dagrus," he orders, bringing the mace back into postition.  One by one, they file up the narrow stairs.  The stairs are warped and melted, as though they were crafted from wax and have gone soft for a time.  Everyone is forced to pick their parth carefully to ensure they trip over the rough footing, or go to step where there is nothing but empty air.  Only Yip, short and agile, is comfortable taking the narrow climb with speed, and even then he moves cautiously, carefully watching for signs of trap or ambush.There are none.  They make the climb without incident.  The stairs empty into a wide chamber, nearly fourty feet accross, with a crude camp set up in its centre.On the far side, carefully expecting some warped runes carved into the stone, is a six foot obsidian creature.  Manlike and covered in scales, the jet black hair that rolls down it's back doing little to obscure the scabbarded Falchoin that juts over one shoulder.  When he turns to regard them, his eyes are cold and crimson, his tongue split."Greetings," the voice rumbles.  "I am Dagrus.  Perhaps we can reach an agreement..."</blockquote>

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