Surrounded by a gloomy "welcoming party" of Baphomet cultists, Murphy and the Slate Expedition Team left Baphomet's grand dungeon without incident. It might not have been the most appropriate comparison, but the scene really did look like a big spender leaving a bathhouse while the masseuses saw him off.
They were only a few words short of calling out, "Please come again!"
Once they reached the middle-level tunnels, some strange psychic spell sealed off the entrance to the maze below.
Clearly, the Baphomet cultists, who had been pretending they had the upper hand, weren't stupid.
Murphy was too busy dealing with the Black Calamity to bother with insignificant criminal forces like them, and they weren't strong enough to feel safe from another incident in their dungeon. Both sides knew perfectly well that today's farewell was only in preparation for their "reunion" down the road.
Besides, the dungeon really was enormous.
If Triss and Hogg hadn't fought the Twilight cultists here while searching for the civilization slate, the cultists themselves might never have realized they'd nearly been pulverized by the blasphemous priest summoning a shadow from the Warp.
They might all worship evil gods, but the gods they worshiped weren't the same. It was like belonging to the same underworld but serving different bosses.
The clash between these evil forces was frightening enough. Their relationship was more "straightforward," without any hypocritical claims of righteousness. One careless move could easily end in a gang war. Judging by their decision to seal off the dungeon, these fellows would probably lie low for a while, until things outside had settled down.
"Winnie, ask your minotaur if there are any other routes to the middle and lower levels."
Murphy, supported by Triss, spoke softly in the tunnel. Winnie had just witnessed a real "spectacle," and