Tris scuffs out the last of their fire and takes a seat cross-legged on the ground near the goblin leader, looking him over with a cool eye. Like most humans, she has little enough love or use for goblins-- they're a nuisance at best, in her experience, and downright homicidal little brutes at worst.
She gives Devan's bird-creature a little nod as they settle in to watch. Her bow remains in her hand, an arrow in the other, and she watches the sky, keeping eyes out on the immediate airspace until the others are ready to proceed.
Carter pops a squat next to Tris and peers around her at Arend out of the corner of his eye. Don't his eyes get dry? He takes his journal and pen out of his bag and scribbles THE INTERROGATION on the top of a new page. He sighs and shakes his head. "If only I had paid more attention in Goblin class, then I could participate!"
After healing himself, Devan makes his way over to the unconscious trussed up goblin. "Good work buddy, thanks," he says patting Arend on the shoulder. Steed fishes a small vial of water from one of his various pouches and kneels down next to the goblin. He grabs the little creature and sets it upright, before sprinkling unholy water over it and muttering a spell in infernal. The goblin's wounds begin to slowly heal themselves and after several seconds, the creature wakes up.
"Ons verhoed om uit te sterf. Wie is jy?" he asks the goblin. "As ons kan praat, is daar geen behoefte vir honde of perde. Ek mag dalk selfs my vriend vertel nie jou naam neer te skryf en jou siel steel," he continues motioning to Carter and his writing materials.
Tris smiles slowly at overhearing Devan's words to the goblin. Not bad, she thinks, not bad threats at all.
She offers Carter a wry smile, using the tip of one her arrows to poke scratches in the dirt at her feet.
"You actually took a goblin class?"
The goblin leader's head rolls around and finally steadies when the infernal healing finishes. His large eyes with a glint of clever slowly open as if from sleep. You think he has been through this before. While listening to you, he tests his bonds and then stretches his neck muscles. After Tris's comment, he spits in Devan's face with a grin.
“Well that was the carrot, now it’s time for the stick. Carter, please steal this pitiful creature’s soul. That way when Arend and Light give it the excrutiating death it deserves it won’t have the pleasure of an afterlife.”
Hearing Devan translate for Carter, Elbows lends his own muscle to the cause: glaring at the goblin, smiling wickedly, and cracking his knuckles.
Carter brushes off non-existent dust from his knees with his right hand. He winks at Tris and nods at Devan. "Looks like I won't need that Goblin class after all." He stands up straight, slips his journal and pen into his coat pocket, and brushes off his pants again with both hands for good measure. He clasps his hands and rubs them together vigorously, then pushes on his knuckles with a resounding *CRACK*. He approaches the goblin with a sneer.
Carter whips his journal back out of his coat pocket and spreads out his arms abruptly as he approaches the prisoner. He taps the journal zealously and leans into the goblin's face, his nostrils flaring. "DO YOU SEE THIS NOTEBOOK?" he bellows. "IT'S FULL OF THE NAMES OF PUKEY LITTLE GOBLINS WHO DIDN'T LISTEN TO MY FRIENDS!" He flips open the journal and finds a list he made a few months back of the best and worst chefs in Korvosa. Hopefully he can't read Common, or he's nearsighted. He thrusts the notebook in the goblin's face. "DO YOU SEE THIS LIST? THESE ARE ALL THE GOBLINS WHO DISAGREED WITH ME WHO DIDN'T MAKE IT TO THE AFTERLIFE!" That beardy old man who made the disgusting roasted pheasant doesn't deserve to make it to the afterlife either, that's for sure. He snaps his fingers in front of the goblin's nose and recoils in disgust, turning away and clutching his notebook close to his chest. He pulls out his pen from his coat pocket and stares intently at the page. He starts chanting in Infernal and scribbling* in the space under the list.
He stops chanting suddenly and stares down the goblin once again. He lowers his voice menacingly. "It's ready. All I need is that name of yours."
Urine leaks from the pants of the goblin leader who starts to cry in despair. After the final translation, he whimpers, "Gub."
"Hoekom is jy hier Gub? Wie het jy skiet uit die smous?" Devan asks Gub leaning in close.
Thondrir finishes strapping and securing the remnants of his gear, giving the tree that attacked him a mighty, ineffectual kick as he passes by. Interrogations were never his cup of tea. They always ended in an awkward debate of "what do we do with them now?" that set knots to stomachs. That it was a goblin would likely serve their decision no better. Killing someone—a creature, even—in a straight up fight? Thondrir has no qualms with such things. A subdued and defeated creature, though... even a goblin. They couldn't very well set it loose to murder and plunder. They weren't exactly in proximity to any prisons, either.
Instead, Thondrir elects to stride next to Esaul, giving the far younger and much taller man a solid clap on the back as announcement of his presence. "Ye an' Light did us proud, laddy! Amind me ta give yer dog an extra helpin' next we settle camp, will ye?"
The hunter smiles, happy with the compliment. "Thank, and yes, Light likes having some help once in a while." He looks away, standing guard several feet away from the interrogation. "Weird, you would have guessed the rider would be closer, by now, but I don't see anything else."
"Se ode ni griffon." the goblin leader replies to both questions.
Carter narrows one eye at the sad little goblin. "GUB is it? Isn't that a girls' name? Or was that 'Gubalinda'?" Carter shakes his head and keeps his pen poised, lest the goblin try to get sassy with Devan.
"Is jy die vors? Is daar meer kabouters? Was jy met iemand anders? Daar was niemand ry die smous? Waar was jy hardloop nou net?" Devan continues interrogating, completely unsatisfied with the goblin's first answer.
The goblin leader dejectedly shakes his head negatively in reply to Devan's first question. Then, he nods his head affirmatively in reply to the second question. "Iyokù ninu awọn ode ti wa ni wiwa fun ibi ti awọn ẹniti o n wa subu. Mo ti gbiyanju lati pada si wọn."
"Gub, dit is 'n keerpunt in jou lewe. Ek gaan jou 'n kans te gee. 'N kans om te verander wie jy is. 'N kans vir verlossing. As jy aansluit by ons en help ons, ons sal seker jy is ryk en het nooit honger maak. Ek sal selfs toelaat dat jy ons help steek dinge en miskien selfs brand hulle soms. Ons doodmaak monsters, maar ons het nie jou dood te maak. Jy hoef nie 'n monster te wees nie, kan jy 'n avonturier wees!" Devan says in a slow and serious manner, still kneeling next to Gub. He holds up a finger, preventing the goblin from responing just yet. "Wag nie. Voordat jy antwoord wat jy moet weet dat dit 'n eenmalige aanbod. As jy weier, sal ons jou laat vry, volg jou terug na jou metgeselle, en julle almal dood te maak. As jy aanvaar is, sal jy ons terug na jou metgeselle lei, en ons sal hulle almal dood te maak, en jou laat lewe. Jy kan 'n deel van hul buit. As jy 'n vriend of mate onder hulle is, sal ons hulle spaar solank as wat hulle ook eens om ons te help."
Wait. Before you answer you should know that this is a one time offer. If you refuse, we will let you free, follow you back to your companions, and kill you all. If you accept, you will lead us back to your companions, and we will kill them all, and let you live. You can even have a share of their loot. If you have a friend or mate among them, we will spare them, as long as they also agree to help us.
Devan motions for Tris to translate for him, so everyone can understand and he doesn't need to repeat himself.
Tris's brows climb up and up as she hears Devan's proposition to the critter, but she clears her throat and quickly mutters a Taldane translation for the others.
"He's givin' him the ol' 'make good life choices' speech thing, y'know, turn to the light, blah di blah, we'll feed ya... orrrr if he don't talk, we trail him back to camp, kill every gob we find, so forth 'n so forth--" she squints, listening, "--actually it sounds like we kill every gob we find either way--"
She's certainly not going to question Devan in the middle of what she still wants to refer to as a con working, but if he's serious with this goblin and not pulling a fast one on it, then Besmara spits. She'll keep both eyes open while she sleeps as long as goblin's within a long stone's throw.
Gub concentrates on Devan's large words that don't translate well into Goblin. When he finishes, the goblin leaders considers the words then asks for clarity, "Mo boya o da, tabi o jẹ ki o mi free? Bi o ba jẹ ki mi free, ni o ti fun mi pada mi nkan na, ati ki o mo ti gba gbe mi atuko ká jia?"
Since the interrogation is taking too long, Esaul calls out from his spot several dozens feet away. "Common Devan, we've got tracks to follow!"
"Jy by ons aansluit en kry 'n paar buit, ons lei dan tot jou metgeselle. Of ons laat gaan, volg jou terug na die res van jou metgeselle en julle almal dood te maak, kry jy niks anders as die dood...." Devan simplifies.
The goblin looks confused. He scratches his head and looks at his stuff by the eidelon. After a pause, he repeats his question, "Bi o ba jẹ ki mi lọ, o fun mi ni pada mi nkan na?"
"Nee."
At the short answer, the goblin leader's expression darkens. Confusion is replaced with a scowl. "Mo ti yoo ko da o lati kolu mi idile, ki ohun ti o ti wa ni lilo si ṣe?"
Devan frowns, stands up and starts ignoring Gub.
"Well, the little s&+$'s being uncooperative. I figure we knock him out, then untie him leave him naked and follow the tracks back to his clan. Can't have a bunch of goblins running around terrorizing the pass. We also need to see if the rider is alive, it could be a Sable Marine. What do you guys think?"
"Little s&!@'s bein' loyal to his kind," Tris says pragmatically, chewing on a stalk of grass that had been growing between the rocks. "Cooperate an' all your people die, or don't and die yourself? 's a tough choice. Personally I think he's got tiny green balls for sayin' no."
She whistles at the goblin to get its attention. "Oi! Gub!"
"My captain wants to kill your tribe for making war on us. All dead, you understand? But if you take your tribe and go far, far away, maybe I can make him not chase you. Go south. Away from here. Understand? But you will need to tell us your den-place, so that we know you have kept your bargain."
Carrot, stick, carrot? Hmmm....intriguing. Devan stands back and lets Tris do her thing. Maybe she can get it done.
He crosses his arms over his chest and looks sternly at the goblin. Devan then goes to stand with the terrifying Carter. Best to look scary for now I suppose.
Gub is nonplussed and replies, "A ju ni o wa fun awọn alami ẹya ogun. Emi ko yorisi mi ẹyà. A o si tẹle Ymial, ọmọ Goramial."
Nothing on Ymial.
Tris looks sharply to Devan when the goblin says that. Ymial... an army... well, it's more information than they had a few seconds ago, and she doubts a goblin could make up that.
Gub gets more comfortable in his sitting and bound position before answering, "Ọpọlọpọ ati ọpọlọpọ. Bawo ni Mo ṣe le ku fun Ymial nibi?"
The goblin's eyebrows arch at the comment about his death. He is very confused, because he feels that he has answered every question. He shakes his head and blames it on the Humans' horrible accent. "Ymial ngbe labe oke nibẹ yẹn." he points across the valley. "Ymial ká ogun ni opolopo. Ọpọlọpọ awọn ẹya ti awọn goblins, stinking lizard awọn eniyan, ati ọpọlọpọ awọn omiiran."
Ymial's army is vast. Many tribes of goblins, stinking lizard folk, and many others.
"Se Ymrial kan gidi collection tabi kan idaji collection?" Devan interjects.
Gub shrugs not knowing the difference between a real dragon or a half dragon.
Tris gives the goblin a small frown of her own, then steps over to the others to confer in a low tone-- she would prefer not to bet her life on the idea that the goblin doesn't speak Common.
"If he's telling half the truth then we've got bigger problems by far than a flyin' bird-cat. I've heard of this Ymial. I don't think the gob will agree to turn, and I wouldn't trust him if he did, so we've got two options at the end of the day: kill him now, or let him go."
There's no real distaste in Tris's tone for the first option. Even if she's slowly embracing the better moral path these days (with much grumbling en route), an enemy's still an enemy in her book. 'Sides, he hadn't surrendered-- they'd knocked him out. On the other hand, she always does love spinning a good lie...
"But lettin' him go with some strategic misinformation? That's maybe got some benefits. This Ymial hears there's a big force ready to move against him... maybe we can work that to our profit."
"I think surprise is more beneficial. I would normally want to let him go, but he just became an enemy combatant. Now we're at war. I'd say we kill him. We won't need him to find something as large as an army. It's better they have no knowledge of us than a lie about a non-existent army that might briefly confuse them."
"Goramial is a real dragon, Devan. He lives near Fairhaven. But I've never heard anything about this Ymrial."
Carter tips his head toward the goblin. "I say you can kill him."
Tris glances quickly to each of the others, and looks last to Thondrir, before sauntering back to the goblin.
She circles around behind him... and then in a swift motion, draws her dagger, brings it under the skinny green throat, and draws the keen blade quickly across the life-carrying arteries. Dirty work is best done quick.
"Sorry, gobber," Tris mutters as she wipes off her blade on the goblin's makeshift clothing. "Better luck next life."
"So it sounds like we've got an army of gobs and... smelly lizards, you think he means them, what're they called, troglodytes?"
"An' here be where it all goes to pot, then. Ever' time we try'n capture a beastie we do this poor dance o' dilemma. Killin' tha bugger in a fight is all well an' good, but loppin' a head off'n a prisoner be no true testament to the Samaritan Way. We be a council by all rights, an' a council be what is called fer now. I vote nay ta executin' the thrice-damned bugger, goblin or nay."
Thondrir has no particular love of the goblin or its kind, and realizes that it deserves death truly—but killing anything in this circumstance never rests well on the dwarf's soul. Goblins are cruel little bastards, but they aren't always beyond redemption.
Elbows has mostly stood aside, listening to the interrogation. He doesn't speak goblin and even if he did, he knows Carter, Devan, and Tris are better at this than he is.
Now it's time for strategy, and he steps forward to weigh in. "Hrumph."
"Thondrir, I hear your distaste. There's neither honor nor glory in killing a foe who's been subdued. Today though we need to think about Fairhaven. If there's an army at her steps, we need every advantage we can muster -- and we certainly can't be sending enemy combatants back to their base with information about us. It doesn't make me happy but for the sake of Fairhaven I vote aye.
"Tris, I trust you can make it fairly painless."