Bjorkus roars in pain as the trog's treacherous attack does it damage. Making good on his threat, he crushes the trog's skull with a heavy hoof after its fallen again. He switches his grip to his good arm and rolls his shoulder, willing himself to ignore the would for now.
"Anyone understand that thing?" he rumbles.
"میں Gearsmith کلان کے Toramin، Torag کے نائٹ، ہوں. ، ہتھیار ڈالنے کے ہمیں ایڈ، اور ہم آپ کو آزاد کرے گا."
The creature glances between you all for a moment, then raises his hand and opens the tunnel he shut off.
کو ہلاک کر دیا جائے گا. میری خواہش ہے کہ اپ سنجوگ اگرچہاگر مجھے کوئیمزید یہ تمام کر سکتا ہوں. اپ کی مددوہ مجھے
"ہمارے ساتھ چلو. ہماری مدد. ہم آپ کی حفاظت، اور سزا اس جگہ کے مالک نظر آئے گا. زمین کے بچے، ہم نے پتھر پر واپس جانے کے لئے آپ کی سب سے بڑی امید ہیں."
”I’ll take that as a yes”, the bull mutters to himself as he takes a moment to examine his wounded shoulder.
The creature stands up on shaky legs, but shakes his head.
ہو سکتا ہے. لیکن میں کیا کروں
گا. اس ڈھاکنا اپ کا کہنا ہے کہ
ٹریک اور خلق خدا میں جنگ لڑی ہے. میں واپس ائے اور مجھے ایک مرتبہ اپ کے کام ہیں
Toramin restrains himself from rolling his eyes at the shade-throwing manotaur. More cow than bull. No. That's not being charitable, Toramin.
"Yes, I fear that he may only speak the language of the earth, and I did not want to worry him speaking a language he might not understand. I am trying to convince him of the truth: we are his best bet to escape this nightmare alive."
"زمین کے جیسا تم کہو، بچے. میں رہتے ہیں، تو میں آپ کو غلام بنا کر رکھ رہنے کی اجازت نہیں دیں گے. آپ کا نام کیا ہے؟ تم اس جگہ اور اس حکمرانی وہ لوگ جو راکشسوں کے بارے میں کیا جانتے ہیں؟ آپ کو وہ پیدا کیا ہے بیماری یا 'صفائی' کا پتہ ہے؟ آپ کو اندرونی دیوار کے لئے دروازے گھر کا راستہ معلوم ہے؟ کیا یہ پیرا نیچے جھوٹ؟ کیا آپ ہمیں بتا سکتے ہیں کسی بھی معلومات شاید یہاں تک کہ خود اپنے، زندگی بچا لے گا."
After the last exchange, Toramin relates the conversation thus far.
"His fear of the rulers of this place eclipses his hope in our competence. I've have promised to return to fear him after we have vanquished them. I am also asking him for information on this place to aid our quest. Are there any questions you would like me to ask him?"
"ہم آزاد کیا جا سکتا ہے وہ لوگ جو مفت، اور کچھ نہیں لیکن تشدد پیش کرتے ہیں ان لوگوں کو جو قتل کرے گا. Torag کے نام میں اس قسم کھاتی ہوں. ان راکشسوں کو سزا ملنا چاہئے."
Toramin restrains himself from rolling his eyes at the shade-throwing manotaur. More cow than bull. No. That's not being charitable, Toramin.
Bjorkus nods at the dwarf’s translation.
”Does he know what’s this way?” he asks with a gesture south.
Toramin will repeat his question about the ice tunnels. What should they expect? Traps? What do these icy halls hold?
The creature shakes his head, explaining he only guards the entrance and spends most of his time in one of the side caverns, which is the room to your left. Although the soldiers who visit whisper of a silent, large presence that prowls the halls, seeing all and judging most.
”Well let’s take a look. They’re guardin’ it for a reason”, Bjorkus says with a snort.
”Maybe we’ll get lucky and find the larder”, he laughs.
The dwarven paladin laughs. "It might be terrible, but I'm a little peckish myself."
As the dialogue between Toramin and the creature continues, Psotheos relaxes and sheathes his rapier.
”How can you think of food at a time like this?” he asks. He looks down the tunnel, as far as he can. ”You trust what he’s saying Toramin? Do you think he is pointing us towards an ambush? Ask him how long has he been here.”
Toramin nods at Arjax. "He seems to bear no love for the wicked who control this place. I hope that he sees that we are his best chance for salvation. I'm willing to act on the belief in that hope."
"اگر آپ کو برا نہ لگے تو میرے صحابہ سوالات ہیں. تم کب تک ان سرنگوں میں کیا گیا ہے؟ اس کے علاوہ، آپ کو ان کی زمین کی عام زبان بولتے ہیں؟ بدقسمتی سے، وہ زمین کی زبان نہیں بولتے. یہ ایک متبادل نہیں ہے اگر وہ سمجھ میں نہیں آتا کہ ایک زبان بولنے اشج ہو جائے گا."
The creature scratches his head and begins speaking in another tongue. "E latyailgo anirela anelvya illa kyacc, fyan lemliilcca anirelaa kyire latyailgo anira cillvyilva eo anira ailmanir ilma liema omealwca."
Ah, he's cunning, he was testing you.
Lindale laughs and replies in undercommon.
"You are right about that. Unfortunately our paladin doesn't see clearly. You are helping a great evil and we cannot let that continue."
He looks at the others again and speaks in the common tongue.
"Don't you see? We must stop him. If the cooling he creates stops, so will their experiments that rely on it."
"No. He is a victim in all of this. He is offering us no violence. We will end the experiments and then he will go free. We will not harm him."
"میں یہ زبان نہیں بولتے. سیاہ ایک سے ہوشیار رہو. میں ہوں."
Tired of all the gabbin' in a language he didn't understand, the minotaur barrels down the southern passage.
"ارے نہیں! یہ بیل سر آدمی! ایک آخری سوال یہ ہے کہ کس طرح وہ آپ کو یہاں رکھا ہے؟ کیوں تم سے فرار ہو کر نہیں کیا ہے؟"
Toramin will hurry after Bjorkus once the obfuscating Pech has answered their questions and after Lindale. He isn't going to let the elf just stab the poor creature when his back is turned.
The creature glances back at where he is nesting.
Bjorkus advances through the icy tunnel cautiously, peering down each hallway until he comes to a small room opening to the east.
As you begin walking down the hall, you suddenly hear the creature shriek and run in after you. He grabs your arm, speaking frantically and pointing at the ground. You look down, noticing a thin wire about an inch off the ground. It appears to be rigged to some loose chunks of ice at the ceiling.
Beyond the little makeshift trap, you move into the living quarters of the little creature. There's a small pillow and blanket, a few boxes of interesting looking rocks, a couple pickaxes, a few books, a good amount of food, and hidden carefully in the reflective ice surface is a tunnel that's nearly impossible to see if you're not at just the right angle. However, it looks like you'd need to be the size of a halfling to fit in there.
Being decidedly bigger than a halfling, Bjorkus takes what he can see at face value. He pats the small earthern creature on the head in gratitude as the tripwire is pointed out.
”Tell him I said thanks”, the bull rumbles at Toramin.
The minotaur steps carefully over the tripwire and moves further south pausing when it looks like the western passage opens into another room.
"انہوں نے کہا کہ شکر گزار ہے."
Bjorkus watches the dwarf translate.
”What’s his story? Why’s he so eager to help us now?” the minotaur asks with a snort.
"His people have been enslaved. They were promised release two months ago. It seems that the rulers of this place are less than trustworthy."
As Bjorkus steps in front of the room, suddenly the ground opens up underneath him. He yelps out, flailing and missing the ledge, dropping into the pit. However, instead of the sound of a body thudding against the floor your hear a squish, followed by the sound of something moist moving.
Bjorkus bellows in surprise as he plummets into the pit and into the center of the spongy mass. Quickly realizing that he was surrounded by something he holds his breath. The minotaur takes a moment to try to figure out what he was trapped in.
Clueless but clearly in danger, the bull reaches upward to pull himself from the mess.
Hearing the bellow from Bjorkus Lindale goes over to see what happened. Peering down he sees Bjorkus. "He found the trap. Well done. I guess we should help him out." He retrieves the rope from his pack and lowers one end down to Bjirkus. "Gonna need a bit of help here."
Bjorkus grits his teeth and digs his meaty digit into whatever notches he can find in an effort to muscle his way up the walls.
Bjorkus's massive strength and resiliency sees him through and he manages to escape the gooey trap.
The jump over the pit is fairly easy (Dalton sweats a bit) but not too difficult as long as you take your time. The room to the west is indeed a small crypt, nicely kept and unmarked. Each wall holds a 3 by 3 grid of caskets.
Bjorkus grunts in thanks to the elf once he's clear of the pit and its slimy occupant. The bull braces himself and shakes spraying the immediate area with a fine mist of midly acidic goo. A powerful snort empties his nostrils of more of the invading substance.
"Let's keep moovin'"
***
Bjorkus studies the ground and caskets carefully, wary of more traps.
"Who'd they bury down here?"
As far as you can tell they are blank, plain as can be caskets that are decently kept. Have a fine layer of dust that shows it probably hasn't been cleaned in a week or so.
Puzzled by the seemingly randomly placed crypt, Bjorkus paces the room.
"This stuff mean anything to ya Arjax?" the minotaur asks.