<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/dCSJbmk.jpg)</div><br/>Dawn slapped away Ylene's hand with a practiced motion, but the quirked smile on her lips and lack of retort said that she was both used to such intimate contact and that she didn't really seem to mind it so much.  She chuckled, "Light of dawn, that's one I don't hear often.  Usually it's something about my crack,"  she stopped in front of a door with a foaming mug carving hanging on it.  True enough the sound of snoring could be heard from inside.  Dawn finished by passing back around Ylene and squeezing the dark elf's buttocks in return as she passed, adding, "Especially when the comment is accompanied with a play to get close to it."   The waitress glided back down the hall, chuckling to herself, leaving Ylene at the door.<br/><br/>It pushed open on hinges that squeaked softly, but loud enough to cut the snoring short, and as she entered she found she was not in an office, but at the top of a flight of stairs.  A dim light below and a rustling noise said that someone was below, moving about in some small way.  But she'd sensed no deception nor danger from these people yet, so she walked down the stone stairs, feeling the temeprature drop to a nice cool and pleasant air.  It wasn't cold, just cool, the way you'd expect a basement to feel in the summer.  A part of it spoke to some long ancient forgotten part of her soul, the stone around her, the darkness, the cool air that felt both alive and still at the same time.  Was it possible that it settled drow sensibilities that she never had?  Did some ancient part of her mind remember her ancestors life in the underdark?<br/><br/>In any regard, at the bottom of the stairs she found a metal gate, unlocked but closed, and off to her right an archway that led into a small office.  There, by the light of a single candle sat a dwarven man, long black  beard wearing a robe and a holy symbol about his neck.  He had a quill in his hands and a journal in front of him as if he were busy writing something, however Ylene noticed that the quill was dry of ink and the journal was actually upside down.  No doubt this was Flint.  "Ahhhh come in, come in," he said in a voice that was a bit gruff and if Ylene wasn't mistaken, still laced with the traces of sleep.  "I can only guess that you're miss Teken'urden.  I see you got my note, and I'm so glad that you finally came to pay us a visit."   He gestured at the wooden chairs in front of his desks, which were piled with books, maps, charts, notes, and more than one beer stein.  "I see you have a taste of our brew,"  sniffing the air with a large nose he said, "Deepholm stout I'm going to guess?  Make yourself comfortable and tell me why it's taken you so long to come in and see us here at the explorers guild."