Ambush at the Hunting Lodge
Slipping through the doorway leading to the bunkhouse and back into the main room, Dreya begins to make her way to where the orcs lay slain. As she passes by Len, she says, "I am glad my faulty casting did not bring you to harm, Sir Packer. I do apologize." With an uncertain, experimental wave of one small hand, she tries to diminish the magic of the Faery Fire, not sure if that is possible or if poor Len can only wait the short duration it will take for the glow to diminish.
Then moving across the room, she hedges between Cole and Elwood where they stand before the last orc remaining, the creature alive yet skewered by the unyielding steel of Cole's sword. Unable to help it, she gives both fighters a fleeting, quick glance, as a skitterish animal might when faced with uncertainty. Cocking her head to the side in a very peculiar manner, Dreya studies the orc panting before her in anguish. "I see no harm in seeing if this creature will cooperate," she shrugs. "If he doesn't answer our questions, Sir Hiller can finish him off and we are no worse off than we were before. If he does answer, then we gain at least a little knowledge."
To the orc, Dreya says in orcish, [Language unknown: "O vorpresom lois en ca lo evine acdi illeststreen. Il chany ughthoven somre, O whbut nti wati ckstermi icakorshe tefile, k e es m unno tinlar-witall, ion oneinereaica mo nti wilar un mose, eve, ure str. Mi, tintheeau Ca stck undsonreared dick ca ntom ol en? Ess mable el erech n stirutugh, ionhistedountra asdiek. Yinmi ntme di nosenena ngasaner? Lese lesaev een pr ulna art we i resic resrutlesred nteurelat se ughoveonsnotday taacti whnant?"]
For now, Dreya awaits with bated breath to see if the foul-smelling orc before her chooses to answer.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:41, Mon 19 Sept 2016.