The pale Altmer did not acknowledge anything that the pack said or did, even if they were to try and speak to him directly. The only thing he cared about was that they followed him through the corridors. Thanks to the flooding, they were as difficult to wade through as the swamp outside, until eventually they came to the point where they were waist-deep in water, and ahead of them was another ramp downwards. Once more without a word, the Altmer cast an alteration spell upon himself, then submerged into the next hallway. 

Meesei took a moment to stop and cast a water breathing spell onto Lorag, but otherwise did not linger. The extent of the flooding was hardly surprising to anyone who had lived in the marsh. She and the rest of the pack followed behind the Altmer, swimming through the submerged hallways. Although, given the weight of their armor, it could hardly be called "swimming" for Kaleeth, Janius, and Lorag. For the most part, they had to walk along the floor, which forced the irritated cultist to slow his pace. 

The pack was underwater for about a minute going through hallways that seemed to always angle downward, until they finally started to climb back upwards again. They were, of course, designed in such a way as to specifically allow water to collect in the halls along the outskirts of the underground complex so that it could drain back outside through specially designed stone pipeways. As the group headed back upwards, they emerged from the water into a hallway that was almost surprisingly dry. From there, it was just another minute before the Altmer guided them to their destination. 

As the Altmer had alluded to before, he had taken them to a large dining chamber, with several, quite full tables. Meesei would not have been surprised if most of the cult was present. About half of the plates contained perfectly normal food, by Black Marsh standards. The only dish among that half that was uncooked was the trodh. However, the other half of the cult dined on raw, bloody mortal flesh, or simply drank from bottles of pure blood. Of course, for lycans, it was not terribly off-putting, given their general acceptance of cannibalism. The only detail that might have made the pack uncomfortable was the fact that this cult's victims may not have been as deserving of their deaths.

At the head of the very center table, sitting in elaborately decorated chairs were the familiar faces of Hal-Neesa and Llarvan Samarys, the "lord and lady" of the cult. Although, Neesa hardly even seemed to notice when the pack entered until the Altmer announced them. "Lord Samarys, lady Neesa, our...you seem to have been right about our [i]guests[/i]."

"Yes...our guests." She replied, immediately quieting down the room. She gave a long, silent stare towards all of them as she placed down her bottle of blood. "Who are they again?"

Llarvan turned his head slowly to his wife. "The lycans, I believe. I think that one is their leader." 

"Right. The 'Champion' as they say. Just...wait over there by the door, I will get to you all in a moment." Hal-Neesa instructed, surprisingly dismissively.