Dudley was prepare to use his mace on the swimming bugbear but it exited the water by Mal and Crow. As they dispatched the soggy creature Dudley became aware of Grem floating in the pool as Wembley shouted and jumped in the water.

The Cleric watched the Cid attempt to rescue the injury Dwarv. “Garmard, come on now,” he said gently. “Battle’s over. You want a massage? The lass is all ready at the table...” Then Dudley heard the little mage call for assistance.“Dudley, quick! Help me!”
Although the water hadn't been to deep for the bugbear it was substantial for the Cids and the Dwarv. Dudley dropped his mace ran to the edge of the pool nearest the floundering companions. Laying flat on the floor Dudley reached out with his pole sling, stretching to get it in the hand of Wembley. "Luck for you I picked a pole sling, grab hold, I'll pull you to safety."

Seeing the blood in the water Dudley knew they would quickly need to attend to Garmard.

The battle was over, the Bugbear creatures dead, yet Gamard one of the parties Cleric’s was possibly dead and Crow himself was hurt.

Not a good outcome in any type of fight. Moving as best he could, one hand applying pressure to his wound, he made his way to the slowly red colored pool to offer any aid he could.

As the monstrosity fell before him, quite dead, the Swashbuckler breathed an easy sigh. The fight had been fast, and, Mal believed, very well. That is, until his gaze fell apon the unconscious Khord floating in the pool, and Crow leaking crimson from what seemed to be a moderately serious wound. Mal, however, had no skill in treating wounds, and no interest in joining the rest of the party in the pool. Gamard, after all, was not that large. The others would handle him just fine, he knew. Instead, he moved to the dying Bugbear, seeing that Alan had the leader of the beasts under control.

Standing over the badly wounded monster, he let the tip of his blade hover an inch from it's throat, and gave it a good booting to get it's attention.

((Assuming it wakes up))

"Oy, Monster. D'ya speak common? Fer yer sake, I hope so... Yer only hope ta live lies in just how helpful we find yer words..." Mal growls menacingly, gripping his saber tightly as he struggles to resist plunging his blade into the monster's throat. Beasts such as this did not deserve life, and the idea of letting it live truly bothered the Swashbuckler.....


((If it doesnt wake, disragard the last bit, and replace it with 'Mal sighs in disgust, and sticks the tip of his blade into the Beast's wind pipe, feeling satysfaction in destroying the evil goblin-kin's life'))

As Dudley and Wembley attend to the fallen Khord, Gamard manages to revive himself, sputtering and spitting water out of his lungs and with a nasty head wound, but still alive. He allows himself to lean on the two Cidals as they bring him out of the water.

Alôndas knew he had to move fast for the spell would only keep the creature out for a few minutes at best. The mage kicked the weapon away, removed the belt quickly and upon noticing a necklace, removed it as well. The fabric of the leader’s surcoat was made high quality silk and would make a strong bond for the hands and the leather belt for the feet.

Mal came over to examine the wounded Bugbear but it did not respond to nudging or prompting and seemed to be slowly dying. Mal sighs in disgust, and sticks the tip of his blade into the Beast's wind pipe, feeling satisfaction in destroying the evil goblin-kin's life.

Crow nurses the wounds he ignored to finish the fight. Ivan emerges from the far corner of the room where he has been cowering during the battle, “Whoa dudes. That was heavy man.”

The leader’s belt has a plain dagger in a sheath, a pouch of dried meat strips, a purse with 30 Cullars (Sendria Silver piece) and 10 Bulrin (S. Gold piece), as well as a small blue potion similar to the one his comrade was about to drink before Wembley scored the bulls-eye. His banded armour is very nice but made for someone of a large girth and height and would not suit anyone among the party. Both his boots have long knives in sheaths within. The necklace is gold, with a triangle pendant that has a crystal sphere. Within the crystal sphere is a murky cloud that swirls about on its own. His flail lies on the ground far from the body.

Among the dead, there is a total of 50 Cullars, two more potions and three backpacks (large but useable). There are two swords, two shields, the banded armour (still a bit big for anyone here) and three more daggers. The crossbow is a piece of work with two bolts but no way to reload it. It appears to be a two shot weapon and then useless. The quarrels are carved with runes and the heads are a green stained metal with a crystal sphere, similar to the one on the pendant except here they are filled with a silver liquid like mercury.

The day is wearing on you all. It has been a long time since the ship sank and you swam to this island. With the two “ladies” announcing their services to anyone who enters, two entrances into this room are guarded. This might be a good time to rest, heal the wounded and consider options.

The leader begins to revive. He thrashes around for awhile but is unable to break the bonds that have been put on him. “Oy, Monster. D'ya speak common? Fer yer sake, I hope so... Yer only hope ta live lies in just how helpful we find yer words..." Mal growls menacingly, gripping his saber tightly as he struggles to resist plunging his blade into the monster's throat. Beasts such as this did not deserve life, and the idea of letting it live truly bothered the Swashbuckler.....

It stops struggling and moves itself into a sitting position. “Kill ‘e then.” It says in heavily accented common, “The ‘ission has failed. ‘Y life is forfeit and I will not betray the ‘istress.”

OOC: Both Gamard and Crow are about half hit points

Alôndas tossed most of the items he took off of the Leader into a pile out of reach of the Bugbear; the necklace however he held onto sensing something special about it. He finished securing the creature and double checked the bindings to make sure it wouldn't get away. When the creature woke up he was standing back, his stave in his hand ready to bash the creature in the head if need be.

“Mistress?” the mage asks when the Leader is finished speaking, “I think you should tell us about this 'Mistress' that you speak of, otherwise I might let my friend here have at you with his little blade.” He gestured with his head towards Mal who seemed to have a intense hatred of Bugbears. The Elf Mage didn't hate these creatures, but he did indeed find them disgusting and cruel and would consider the world a better place without them.

If there was any 'interrogation' of the leader, he wouldn't participate in such other than to ask questions if necessary, but he wouldn't stop anyone from 'persuading' the creature to talk.

Seeing the group was tired, having not really rested since coming to this place, the Mage would suggest that they rest here and that they post watches and they secure their prisoner, if he was still alive, and that they should set 2 people for each watch while they rested.

(OOC: The only thing that Alôndas took was the necklace off of the Leader; he will examine it while he is standing a watch but he will not don it just yet.)

Gamard sputters a rain of spit, blood and pool water from his lips and mustache as Dudley and Wembley drag him out of the pool. Wide eyed, he runs the palm of his hand over his face in an idle attempt to wipe away the wetness. When he is sure enough he’ll be able to stand without falling back into the water, he nods to the two Cidals.

“Thanks lads, it seems Inko-mengu has determined that I stink. This was my second bath of the day, and,” raising his eyes to the heavens, he adds, “I hope the Sky-Light is satisfied now.”

He looks from the dead Bugbears to his wounded shoulder and shakes his head. Seeing that the leader is being sufficiently questioned he puts his mind to other things.

Closing his eyes, he reaches for the holy symbol on his headband and touches the golden orb of Solanis. He clenches his fist, as if he grabbed a portion of holy energy from the orb, and then touches his shoulder. As he touches it, a soft glow spreads from his fingers and he feels instantly revived.
(He casts CLW).
Looking around he notices Crows wounds and steps up to the sylvari ranger, offering to do the same for him.

“Here, let me shine Solanis’ blessing on your wounds.”

Later, he will aid in the questioning of the Bugbear if needed. When it comes to resting, he is absolutely sure to take a massage from one of the massage bots.
(taking a gamble here, so he shoots a few extra prayers to Solanis that they won’t flay him alive on the padded table, hehe.)

“Mistress?” the mage asks when the Leader is finished speaking, “I think you should tell us about this 'Mistress' that you speak of, otherwise I might let my friend here have at you with his little blade.”

The Monster looks intently at the Sylvari and spat on the floor by his feet. 'I fear neither death nor any torture from the likes of you, Gelfling! . (An insulting term for Sylvari).

Gamard seems to be moving around on his own and his prayer heals his wound sufficiently and brings Crow back to full health and stamina.

The Monster looks intently at the Sylvari and spat on the floor by his feet. 'I fear neither death nor any torture from the likes of you, Gelfling!”
“I bet you fear this Mistress though, huh?” Alôndas said noticing the way the Leader was watching the necklace he had taken from him, “you must if you serve her.”

The mage was too intelligent to give into petty name calling, especially from a creature like this one. He raised the necklace and held it so the Bugbear could see it but it would stay out of his reach if it attempted to get it.

“This must be important, I take it,” he stated, “it belong to your Mistress? It how you communicate with her or is it how she 'controls' such a weak-minded being like you?”

Alôndas was sure the necklace was magical even though he couldn't sense anything unusual; it was unlike anything he had ever seen before and he was curious as to it's purpose.

The Monster looks intently at the Sylvari and spat on the floor by his feet. 'I fear neither death nor any torture from the likes of you, Gelfling!”

The Swashbuckler sighs as his Sylv companion continues to ask the beast questions, not for annoyance of the intelligent mage, but for the knowledge that the bug bear would only spit again, and call him another name. Threats didn't work well on beings of larger stature, and more violent back grounds. This creature was set in his belief that he could withstand any torture he and his companions could produce. But this was hardly the first time Mal had had to get information from an unwilling prisoner, and he knew he would enjoy this one more than the humans he had, in the past, beaten for information.

Once Alan finished his query, the swashbuckler took no time in moving to stab the point of his blood-stained saber through the beast's hand, making sure not to cut anything vital, only to inflict pain. He knew this wouldn't provoke this slave into speaking, but it was a good beginning.

"Monster, know this. Ya may be havin' the fortitude ya claim ta have. Ya may not tell us what we wish ta know. But.... I do so hate your ilk, and even if'n ya won't talk, I will be torturin' ya, fer the simple pleasure of it. If'n ya choose ta talk, I be sure me companions will force me ta stop. But should ya not, I will be enjoyin' myself fully in removin' yer fingers, yer toes, yer manhood, yer eyelids, yer lips, yer ears, and yer eyes. Yer tongue, I be savin' fer last, jus in case ya choose ta speak. That bein' said, this be yer last chance, fuzzy. For I'll nay kill ya. I simply be meanin' to make ya worthless. Sport an' food fer yer kin. Will yer mistress have use of a crippled dog? I be thinkin' not...."

The Swashbuckler stated calmly, a slight grin touching his lips. Truly, he would be disgusted by the act, and would prefer to simply finish the vile thing, but Mal had learned long ago, once a threat is made, it must be upheld. And so, against his usual nature, should it come to it,the man fully intended on following through on his threat, and he hoped, prayed, that this stupid monster was smart enough, perceptive enough, to see the truth in his cold eyes....

Wembley was a bit mystified when his companions began talking about cutting up the beast bit by bit.

He looking from the mage to the swashbuckler and to their captive, and back to his companions again. "Really, Mal? Are you going to cut him up bit by bit? I didn't know you were a pirate, but that does sound like a pirate-ty thing to do, I guess. Sounds messy... bleh... all that blood and guts trailing all over the place. Bleh!"

The cidal looked at his two companions to see if he had changed their minds. "You really want to do that? What will our host think? I mean, sure, we're lost. And, sure, there were those sharp claw and fang thingers. But he did give up some fine food and drink, remember? Oh! And remember that nifty gadget that cleaned and dried us? That was super swell. And, oh, what a wondrous place this has been so far... all these magical portals and neat but not real girls! ... Do you really want to spill blood and guts all over our host's floor? I don't think he'll like that. I wouldn't like that. Not one bit... of course... he does have that cleaning gadget. Oh! I would like to see that thing work it's magic again!"

"Still, I don't think we should cut him any more. Feels wrong, you know. Maybe not for pirates and syls, but for us small folk... bleh... I don't think I have the stomach for it. Doesn't make for a nice story, you know?"

"Oh! I know! I know! How about, instead of cutting on him, we tickle him instead. I heard this story once of a mighty khord captain who's forces were defending against some hidden Ungoulid warriors. He manages to catch one of the leaders, binds him up, and took the gryphon feather from his helm and tickled the creature until he squealed with delight the locations of all the enemy troops. We coule do that now, here. Less messy. Oh! And maybe the pretty redhead could help us. Just ask her to give our friend here some light touches on his belly... haha! I bet he'll be jibber-jabbering in no time!"

From the top of one of the massage beds, Gamard heard the conversations in the other room. There was talk of torture and talk of tickling. He grinned at the notion of the use of a feather. In Khordaldrum warfare, no means were left untapped.
Still, he didn’t believe the creatures were here by choice. Rather, their outfit hinted at an unfortunate chance. He knew all about Sendria, as his parents’ downfall had been caused by Sendrian raiders. It had been the start of his journey in becoming a Knight of Holy Anger.

“Master Mal,” he called from the bed, “I do not believe we are IN the tower of Amer’loc, or we’d already be dead. Instead, I believe these creatures are trapped in this maze just as we are.”

He popped his neck and groaned with relaxation. Then sat up straight on the bed; a sweaty Khord wearing nothing but a towel.
“Look, I have no love for Bugbears, but maybe this time we should try to talk to it, instead of just threatening it with hellish pain. Perhaps we’ll learn something about this place.”

Mal looks between the Cidal and the Khord, a snarl started on his lips. But with a slight shrug, his Saber once again rests on his shoulder. Taking a step back, he growls, "Try it yer way, then." He growls, and moves to sit by the pool, muttering to himself, but allowing his companions to try. He could always cut pieces from the bug bear later, if... when his companions' attempts to persuade the beast failed.

Mal looks between the Cidal and the Khord, a snarl started on his lips. But with a slight shrug, his Saber once again rests on his shoulder. Taking a step back, he growls, "Try it yer way, then." He growls, and moves to sit by the pool, muttering to himself.

Ivan makes an odd meowing noise and then sighs loudly, “Whoa Dude. Let’s just all be chill here. I don’t do violence but you guys are like the Elvis of violence and you do what you do and all that is cool. But cutting a dude when he’s tied up is just not cool dudes. What I mean is we should try to reach an equilibrium with life and the universe and something.” The Cat explains as he pulls out another piece of paper and rolls some catnip into a tube. “How ‘bout we share some nip and try to be like friends, dig?”

"Really, Mal? Are you going to cut him up bit by bit? I didn't know you were a pirate, but that does sound like a pirate-ty thing to do, I guess. Sounds messy... bleh... all that blood and guts trailing all over the place. Bleh!"

“Look, I have no love for Bugbears, but maybe this time we should try to talk to it, instead of just threatening it with hellish pain. Perhaps we’ll learn something about this place.”

 “Whoa Dude. Let’s just all be chill here. I don’t do violence but you guys are like the Elvis of violence and you do what you do and all that is cool. But cutting a dude when he’s tied up is just not cool dudes. What I mean is we should try to reach an equilibrium with life and the universe and something.” The Cat explains as he pulls out another piece of paper and rolls some catnip into a tube. “How ‘bout we share some nip and try to be like friends, dig?”
Alôndas sighed and threw up his hands as he heard most of the others protest the idea of torturing the bugbear for information, “You people have no concept of interrogation.” He knew that with all the dissension over interrogating the creature that they would never get anything from it now.

“It was a bluff,” he said shaking his head again as he moved away from the creature leaving it to the others, “I would not condone torturing a bound captive either, but the beast didn't know that till you all starting yapping!” His tone left no doubt that he was disappointed in a plan that, while it only had a slim chance of working, now had zero chance of success.

“Well me might as well rest here for awhile to rest and heal,” the mage said as he moved over to one of the corners and sat down, “I suggest watches of at least two people at a time and the 'prisoner' will have to be watched carefully until you figure out what you want to do with it.”

Sitting in the corner, Alôndas looked closely at the necklace. It held a mystery and he wanted to unravel it.

“I will take the first watch,” he said looking up at the others, “if someone will join me?”

***************************************

On his watch, he would examine the necklace, studying the markings, if any, and staring at the center part which seemed to be important. He would press his skin to the necklace, trying to sense anything he could from it. He would keep an eye on his watch companion and their prisoner and listen intently for any sound of someone else arriving through one of the portals.

**If it makes it to the end without incident**

At the end of their watch,if he hadn't found anything out from his examination thus far, he will get the attention of whomever is sharing his watch and ask them to join him for a moment.

“It's time, awaken the next watch,” Alôndas told his watch companion, “I am going to see if this necklace will do anything when I don it.”

Once the next watch was up, and there were enough to keep an eye on the prisoner, “Keep and eye on me for anything... drastic. If something seems very wrong, take it off of me please.” He gave them a faint smirk and then slowly he slipped it over his head to rest on his neck.

Crow, as he quietly watched Dudley and Wembly pull Gamard out of the pool, had also applied a bandage to his wound to help stop the bleeding. In minutes the Khord is up on his feet sputtering water out of mouth and eyes. Then just as quickly Crow watched as Gamard healed himself took a look at him and surprisingly approached.

“Here, let me shine Solanis’ blessing on your wounds.”

For a moment the Ranger said nothing, having not been the most social of companions to this point, he was honestly surprised at the Khords willingness to part with such a valuable spell. Smiling Crow was nonetheless thankful for the offer.

“Yes thank you, Gamard, it is appreciated.” A hand held out to Gamard’s Crow shock the Khords hand as he was healed fully of the wound. Then wanting no part of any torture of the bugbear sat back and awaited the word to move from this room..........