Grumaka cried out in pain and fell as his left leg gave way. Brushing his hair from his face he looked at the wounds which had just opened up along his leg. His regeneration was not keeping up with the foul curse that was placed on him, it was only a matter of time before the magic killed him. He was tired, hungry, lost and most of all he was in constant pain. If he could just put some more distance between himself and the cavern, then maybe…
It had been wrong to trust the human, he had personally warned Yagrah. Grumaka shook his head, wincing at the fresh wounds which appeared across his body and let out a grunt. Now, the mighty Gnoll Horde of the Black Peak Mountains was little more than a handful of warriors and all for what? A foolish attempt to destroy one of the humans’ prized settlements. Those pesky puny humans would just build another in its place. Rats, that’s what the humans are. No better yet cockroaches. Yes, just like cockroaches there are plenty of them, they are annoying and weak. That is it.
Grumaka managed an awkward smile at his insight, somewhat sad not having shared it with anyone. It was however his last thought, before a lithe elven figure slipped out of the shadows behind him and with one swift motion separated his head from his body.
Ansalon Tomb within the Hall of Heroes (13 Fyrmont 997 AC)
“Hey, I didn’t realise gnolls ate vegetables.” Aidan half-stated, holding the half-eaten tomatoes that they had found amongst the gnolls’ belongings.
No one replied. Montano was still engrossed with the maps, Mills was weighting the dead gnoll lord’s glaive against his own, Gotryk was inspecting the walls of the room while Croaker was busy decapitating the remainder of the gnolls.
“I asked,” said Aidan a little louder in an attempt to get anyone’s attention, “is it common for gnolls to eat vegetables?”
“Correction, you didn’t ask. You stated,” replied Mills without looking in the direction of the halfling and still balancing the gnoll’s glaive.
“No. It was a question in the form of a statement. Montano back me up on this, will you?” implored Aidan.
Montano with papers in hand looked up, quizzically,. “What statement, what question?” Mills couldn’t help but laugh.
“Absolutely useless,” muttered an annoyed Aidan under his breath.
“See,” replied a rather smug-looking Mills. “It is possible you never even spoke, and you imagined this statement-like question altogether,” he teased.
“Sometimes I wish you were an imagination,” answered a now irritated Aidan, “One can only…” He was interrupted before he could finish by a loud crash and a slight tremor of the room.
“What was that?” asked Montano, packing away the maps back into the scroll-case with a certain sense of urgency.
“Now that, was a question,” goaded Mills.
“Mills!” interjected a concerned-looking Gotryk, “Croaker can you hear anything?”
Croaker who was closer to the door, stepped someway into the passageway and looked back at Gotryk quizzically. “It sounds like,” pausing momentarily, “like water.”
His eyes grew large in panic as a thought dawned on him, “It’s the water!” he shouted back.