>>5293717>>5293551>>5293456>>5293451>>5293441You will proceed after an interrogation, you decide. You do not wish to risk this thing slipping away before you can learn more about it, and this place.
“Why are you following us?” you demand of the thing, once it has been tied up with rope, and flanked by the Pit-Guard and his Apprentice to ensure compliance. “Are you Drow of some sort?... Some enemy or relation of theirs? Or are you to do with this so-called ‘Devourer’?”
The creature stares at you dumbly, and you sigh and try again in elf-tongue. When this fails, seemingly for genuine lack of comprehension, you summon the Translator and Elf-Specialist to your side, as well as the Novice Fleshweaver.
“You said before that the elves here use dwarven loan-words, yes?” you ask the Translator. “Is this creature a dwarf?”
“No dwarf that I have seen reheard of,” the Translator says uncertainly.
“It is too large,” the Elf-Specialist says with certainty. “It cannot be a dwarf.”
“Maybe it is some… Experiment, or hybrid?” the Novice suggests, eyes flitting to you for a moment as she considers the fact that this being might be akin to you in some way.
“Try the dwarf-tongue anyway,” you command the Translator.
“Very well, but I am not as adept in it as that of the elves,” the Translator says.
When the Translator speaks the guttural and halting speech of the dwarves, the bound creature’s eyes widen and it is quick to reply, to everyone’s surprise. It seems much more eloquent in this language.
“It says that it is no friend of elves or of the beats we call the ‘Devourer’, but is instead a sort of… Looter? Scavenger? Parasite? Lazy-one? The translation is unclear, as dwarves use the same word for all these things.”
“Is it’s a dwarf after all, then?” you ask.
“No—it merely speaks their tongue. It comes from deeper down and further away, it says.”
“Is it alone in this place?” you ask.
The Translator yammers back and forth with the being.
“There are others, but not many, or so it says. It says that if you free it, the others will be grateful.”
You nod slowly, not certain you believe this monster with its over-earnest expression and tales for grateful friends.
“Novice,” you call out to her, “inspect this not-dwarf. Learn its origins and nature.”
The Novice rattles eagerly, a rolling laugh as she advances on the restrained prisoner. It shrinks away, clearly unnerved by her excitement—you can’t say you blame it, in this case.
“And careful,” you admonish her quietly. “Do not impale yourself in your giddiness, Overeager One.”
“I suppose that If anyone knows something about getting too close to subterranean mammals, it’s you,” she mocks in return, careful o be quiet so that the others do not hear her insubordinate insults.
You scoff, and leave the Novice Fleshweaver to her alchemical examinations. You hear the being shriek and whimper.
