Dust seemed to accumulate here, in the dark portions of the first level. The Dungeon always beckoned those with adventurers blood and he wasn't any different, exploring gave him adrenaline, and boy was he a junky.

Zargo, or Zargothrax if you're a stranger, crawled through an unused portion of the caverns that sprawled the first floor. He had been born in this dungeon, practically raised by it, and he had always called it home. His dam and sire had both passed on, leaving him to his own devices earlier in his life than many. He chose to embrace the dungeon instead of leaving it for the supposed safety of the surface. Other surface dwellers had attempted to convince him it was safer when he was but a colt, however they always seemed to have some sort of other motives. Besides, he already made his own space in here.

The crawlspace opened up to a larger sized grotto, water drizzled from the ceiling alongside moss and what he liked to call fae lights. Little glowing critters he came to adore, sometimes they'd stay in his mane as he left the grotto and adventured but mostly they stayed in his home. In a corner of the rock cavern was a stash of items; crates, blankets and the like made up a ramshackle bedroom of sorts. A large tapestry hung from several crates stacked tall, depicting his family before their deaths. It served as entrance to a small tent like structure he called his bed. There were no lanterns or torches, the fae lights provided all he needed, and it kept him less visible to monsters or even other adventurers in the dungeon. 

Up high in the space, there was a tiny hole that lead to one of the more popular pathways the dungeon had to offer, Zargo could usually pick up useful information here if he felt inclined to listen, and even if he didn't sometimes folks were just that loud.

"Crispin I SWEAR there's something new here. It's not just my imagination. I do all your scouting for heaven's sake! Don't you trust me?" Zargothrax tensed, he had heard of Crispin, everyone had at some point, the stallion was a damned legend! He didn't know what the pair were up to, but it seemed that the scout Crispin had with him mightve discovered his hidey hole.

He skirted around his place, and slid quietly into his tapestry tent, listening.

"I don't doubt you, it's just that this area has been combed over for decades. If there's something new wouldn't someone have spotted it by now?" Zargo assumed this was Crispin speaking now, but the voices were getting fainter and harder to hear as they walked off.

"You should know better than I that this place changes at the drop of a hat, it's one of the reasons why you started teaching youngsters how to cope in here." The last bit was hard to decipher, and Zargo could barely make out the last little bit. Instead of worrying they were going to raid his spot, he settled down to sleep it off, if anything happened the fae lights would swarm him, he knew they viewed him as protector after the frog incident.