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Summary
"We're almost there," he hears Durge say. It's meant to be reassuring, he assumes, but nothing Durge does as a surprise is reassuring. His Bhaalspawn had been leading him through endless damp passages for what felt like an hour. The stench of filthy water and rotting wood soaked his skin. He was sure they'd been traveling in circles, but he'd promised not to remove the blindfold early. All he had to orient himself were murmured warnings about steps and the cool, scaled fingers twined in his own.