"Any chance they are still around?" Jocasta asked, sticking her head into the tunnel that marred the wall. She pulled a lens of ground green crystal down from her sun hat and peered into the darkness. It curved away out of sight into the distance. There were odd discolourations on the wall which she took to be gundarog script. She wasn't entirely sure what the writings might signify, perhaps no more than crude grafitti.

"Every chance," Otar growled, his voice simmering with ancient racial anger. The other dwarves were simillarly exercised, knuckles white on weapons, shoulders set.

"No chance we can get back up?" Jocasta asked, swinging her lens covered eye up to the hole above them and the broken dragon at the bottom like a busted kite.

"Aye, we can probably climb..." The world lurched violently sideways. There was a rumbling crack and dust exploded from the walls of the cavern. Rocks tumbled down in an ever increasing torrent. Boulders the size of wagons crashed down, pulping the body of the dragon like great cannonballs from the sky. The dwarves moved with the same mechanical motion they had displayed in the crypt, pressing themselves into the walls. Dust billowed in great waves, washing over Jocasta a moment before Beren grabbed her around the waist and hurled her back into the dwarven tunnels. A moment before she was yanked away she got a brief glance of a familiar demonic figure in the billowing dust, a braod smile on its face.