At Dworic's acceptance of his idea, Jimjar smiles and offers the surly dwarf a grateful nod. The right idea, my friend. Fortune has ferried us to one another - we would be fools to fold on such a fortuitous draw! his thoughts resonate through the psychic connection. Taking a bun, Jimjar splits it and offers half to Nilvae, even though she never reached for one herself. "Here you are, miss. You will need your strength to recover from whatever they dosed you with."

In my head? the orc's thoughts rumble and churn, struggling to stay coherent. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at Stool. "What are you about mushroom?" And he snarls, pointing at Eldeth. "Not cowed by tiny mushroom! Stupid dwarf."

It's a while before any of the guards come around. Perhaps their captors have started running out of tasks for them. But no - no such luck. Kronryn rears his ugly head again - though compared to Duskryn, his ugliness is masked below the surface. "Trash male, he-dwarf, mutt meat. Get up and line up. Everyone else back."