Part 7: Return to the Moathouse Dungeon

Mal shows no fear towards the gnolls and waves her hand dismissively.

"I assume you understand me, yes? Those interlopers are killing the ghouls below right now! Hurry your ass up and go stop them!"

Eltrezar shoots a glare to the Dwarf and nudges her with his bony elbow. The wizard, crossing his toes for luck in the way of his homeland, sets down the lantern and makes the same gesture across his own face, crossing hands. He does so impatiently, however, hoping to command the same respect that his tutors had. Hrmph! "Yes, yes, hurry on now. They'll get away while you test us!" But it occurs to him that they have not spoken in the common tongue, nor have they seemed to acknowledge what he and the Dwarf had said.

His mind thinks back to the Ogre that had so easily fallen to "those pesky townsfolk", one that they would have had to somehow communicate, and he attempts a different approach. He clears his throat and tries out a few rough sounds, almost guttural and harsh; his voice deepens an octave, likely a habit formed when learning the language. In the Ogrish language 'Ogrish? Ogryn? Bah, no matter', he attempts talking to the Gnolls. "Ark fru hal makkal?" It is quite clear, even to those untrained, that he is not recently practiced in this tongue.

To those who know him better, Eltrezar shows signs of relief; his shoulders relax some, his back slouches, and his nostrils un-flare. He turns to Maloria. Ahem "They would rather you not speak here, lest you lose a tongue. And for all that Boccob has deemed holy, follow my lead."

He looks back at the lead Gnoll and begins translating what they had said before. Hrmph! "The mountain-carver is small and feisty, but what she said in my tongue is true. We were surprised by those town-walkers that have been in here, and they defeated us. They ran to the..." - Eltrezar struggles to find the word for 'crypts', instead opting to point at the secret passage - "...the dead place. We must get the fallen man to the surface. Lareth will be very angry with us. You are much better at catching them, and Lareth will be very pleased. But you must hurry!"

Upon hearing the request (or, more technically, the threat), Eltrezar puffs out his chest, raises a finger, and opens his mouth ready to protest (Mal had by now seen this a dozen times), but he resigns himself to accepting this fate. The wizard draws the dagger from his belt, and thrusts it towards the Gnoll (blade sideways); he doesn't take his eyes off the creature. Hrmph! "Go, then. Lareth pays us no many moneys, and we want to go away. Too much dangers, not many moneys. Lareth who looks ugly like mountain-carver can find new dog-walkers." He spits on the ground, attempting to match the energy of the Gnoll. He does not succeed, and catches his beard instead.

Gilly hunches down, pulling the cloak over her completely, with barely enough space to watch proceedings from where she is hiding in the corner.

She doesn’t move a muscle while deliberations are taking place. She dares not even move her head enough to watch over Bors. She sits, ready and waiting to strike, or to leave; whichever comes first.

She stares daggers at the wizard as he carries out the negotiations. She watches him unhook his blade and pass it across. She holds her breath. Hate mixed with hope as she watches her companions try to get the four of them out of this corner. If they failed, well, she’d surprise a Gnoll or two with her blade before the end came.

Slowly, Mal let's out the breath that she had been holding for who knows how long. She spends a moment breathing slowly to quiet the adrenaline and then turns back to her companions.

"We are out matched here. Let's give them a headstart before we head up and then get Bors back to town."

She looks at the others to gauge their positions, to take the measure of what they all had left in the tank.

Eltrezar nods at Mal, agreeing with her statement to wait. As soon as they're out of sight, he turns to the Dwarf and to where he assumes Gilly is hiding. Hrmph! "That was quite productive, actually. They confirmed that Lareth is running the show down here. I cannot recall if I had informed you all that the Druid of the Grove had told me. Lareth the Beautiful, as I assume he named himself, was a small time bandit who raided some hills with his Gnoll pack. But it would seem he has found this keep and has been growing his gang. He has not only other men following him, but some Bugbears. At least we should not have to worry about the Gnolls anymore, they alluded to the fact that the rest had been killed already."

He ponders for a moment or two before clearing his throat. Ahem! "We should return to town with expediency, as I do not know how long our warrior friend will hold on. But in the coming days, I would have us find this place called Three Trees- perhaps the Druid knows of it- and retrieve the dagger... and put an end to these foul creatures."

Gilly whistles low as the Gnolls head above ground.

"Will… will the Druid be able to do anything for Bors here?"

Gilly has mixed feelings on the wizard. He just saved them, perhaps… and get so immediately worried about his dagger.

Hrmph! "I do believe the Druid will be able to help, and without the taxes and tithes the Church requires. He takes only donations, but has proven helpful beyond measure."