"Unless we're gon' dispatch this wretch, we'd best get 'er tied up afore she awakes," Morti observes. The dwarf considers whether his manacles will fit around the giant's wrists, resorting to rope if not.
Manacles do not fit, but rope does, although you do not know how long it will hold the giantess.
Bloodied and tired, the female hill giant stirs from the nonlethal blow, as she regains her senses and sees the party standing over her. She is prone and unarmed, I assume. She sneers at the party as she awaits to determine why she is still alive.
Barundar holds the chain of his dorn dergar in hand, a scowl on his face. "We got sum questions fer ye, giant. If'n ye favor stayin' in this side of tha livin', ye'd bes' bae answerin' 'em." he says in a low, threatening voice.
Morti will do his best to loom over the giant, weighing his hammer in his hands, and address her in the giant tongue. "Ah know yer type -- greedy fer power. Grenseldek knew it too, clearly, promised it to ye, made ye think ye were in charge...an' then sent ye out ta die. Ye probably weren't told that the net was closin' around ye, that Grenseldek was sendin' out yer patrol ta see how fast ye'd die? And--" he scans the dead orcs contemptuously "--the answer is pretty bloody fast.
"So why are ye still drawin' breath? I'm asking meself that right now, after that wallop. Me friends here convinced me ye might 'ave something useful to say, though, maybe ye might not be willing to sell yer life so cheaply -- might let us go after Grenseldek instead.
"So, show me they're right, or tell me now that ye won't, and we can end this."
The giantess opens her eyes in shock as she hears the dwarf speak in her native tongue. She looks around and sees Bar's chained weapon hanging menacingly, eyes the small halfling wielding his flaming blade near her ribs, and notes the elven lass' cool demeanor. She ponders her options in silence as Morti rants on and stays quiet for another few seconds after the dwarf finishes. A few beads of sweat appear on her forehead as she looks over the dead orcs' bodies, realizing she could be lying down in the mud, her throat cut. She swallows hard, "You no hurt me no more...try real hards to help..what ya wants to know?" The giantess nods her head and her broken English reflects her low intelligence.
Morti takes note of the giant's level of reply and tries to keep his followups at the right level, repeating each question and translating answers in common for his companions.
"How many giants with Grenseldek?"
"What kind o' giants? Like you, or different?"
"Who are Grenseldek's helpers?"
He'll pause for an answer after each to give the captive time to reply, as well as look around for any suggestions from the others.
The giantess turns her head on her side, ”Galra not good with numbers. We giants all like me only live in fort. Giants powerful but less number than shorter and weaker family giants and we all less than pig men, many many of them.”. She points to the dead orcs when she says pigmen. ”Grendelsek has pig protectors in metal skin and big big wolves who eat her enemies.”