Dessiter smiles. "Done. You have precisely nine days." he says, as an elaborate contract springs into being next to him, marked with Kydrak's implicitly given signature.

On the floor, the shattered pieces of Caldrel's head pull themselves back together, and lines of burning hellfire flare into life along the shattered lines of injury, like a clay pot being fused back into wholeness. A moment later, and the anti-Paladin sits upright with a strangled cry.

"I should advise you not to delay in delivering your agreed payment. The consequences would be dire... for both of you." Dessiter notes, watching as the resurrected half-elf pulls himself to his feet. "Still, this should serve as ample demonstration that my master's offer is both serious and possible." he continues, looking towards Quint and Hal.