Devaguea looked at the spirit, thinking back to the entrance where they had seen human sized boots entering and then leaving, and then back to the journal in town. He felt a flicker of flame issue from his crystalline horn, and dug through the pack, and pulled out the art object that they had found in the tomb, and then pulled out the one that had been turned over to Maegar Varn. When he looked up from examining the two objects, he was red to his chest, and the entire horn had gone from light blue to a lovely pink color that would have been very pretty if it wasn't wavering under a heat mirage and surrounded by flickers of flame. "Willas Gundarson, I presume?"<br/><br/>He remembered what was in the journal the man had written, where he described the item he had found, IN A RIVER or so he had claimed, as he had sold it to Lord Varn. "You lying, two faced, self aggrandizing, tomb robbing bandit spawn. Every death was because of you, not because you freed him, but because you LIED about what you found and where, let alone that you escaped from an undead giant. One word of warning and things might have gone differently. Instead, everyone was curious instead of on guard. If you are hoping for someone to forgive you and somehow tell you that it was not your fault... Well, too. Fucking. Bad."<br/><br/>The dragon took a long breath, before abruptly turning and walking away, the red receeding as fast as it had come. "Sak'bas, that... fool is yours to deal with. I care not if he is left here to haunt these tombs until Pharasma calls the world to judgement, or if you want to help him move on, but I want nothing to do with him."<br/><br/>He did pause at the turn back to the entrance to the unfinished tombs, just in case the fool tried to attack his party, in which case he would get hit with every magic missile Devaguea could cast, slowly peeling the soul apart until it dissolved. No one betrayed or attacked him or his allies and just walked away from it. NO ONE.