“Go down stairs!” Erwin chirped.
“Ok.” Finn said.
“You not comment?”
“No, that’s certainly somewhere Rodrigo might be.” Finn shrugged.
“You don’t seem excited.” Erwin prompted.
“You’ll see.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==--=-=-=
Charlie decided to look down the stairs.
Up down, left, right, it didn’t matter. He’d find that fat fuck. Veles could Trim him and then Oswin would deal with the wolf at his leisure. The party needed a short rest. They needed their spells back if they were going to take down the boss of the dungeon.
Charlie crept past the patrolling golem and descended the stairs.
He emerged in a pit of sand. It looked like one of those gladiatorial arenas in ancient Greece. Above him, a night sky glimmered. A clever illusion, but Charlie knew they were currently buried under a couple thousand feet of solid rock.
Above him was the figure of a pitbull drinking blood from a goblet, lying on an immaculate chaise lounge.
That would be the pitbull and likely boss of the dungeon. Charlie doublechecked the arena floor, looking to see if Rodrigo was somewhere in here, fighting for his life. Aside from some rather suspicious red puddles in the sand, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
With a soft sigh, he walked back up the stairs.
(Rodrigo isn’t here. Hit the Back button and try somewhere else.)