Turble is a ball of energy. He stretches repeatedly. His tongue lolls.
"Let's go. Let's go!" he says.
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Turble had been watching the scene quietly. The percolating anger had not phased him. The threat to his ticket out of the cobbler's shop, however, is not tolerable. The rest of the pack is clearly looking to brawl and a full stomach has Turble feeling playful. As Charlene draws her sword, the gnoll lunges for the offender's throat, canines bared.
"Little creature is from lab? Had a cousin who was part lab, maybe. Leader speaks weirder, don't worry." Turble scratches beneath his chin as he turns from Finwa to Meowselworth. "Balloons fun, strange though. Lead, leader! "Maybe safe way?" He adds as an afterthought.
The gnoll looks horrified at Finwa's ministrations. A moment later he has processed what he has heard. "Licking enough! No baths and no vettings!" Turble glares at the creature in front of him. He begins replenishing the drool beneath his jowls. Eager to address more pleasant topics Turble answers Leo: "Always been here. Town no good. Better alone." He hesitates for a moment. "Maybe better with friends . . . Friends have more food?"
Turble is busy noisily munching down on the various foods he has been offered. After managing to swallow an amount that would be dangerous for giants, he manages to choke out a few words. "Food so good. Doctors in town are not so good. I am happy to have new friends and help new friends. Leaving town is very good start." The gnolls eyes brighten visibly as his impressive digestive system makes up for lost time.
Turble listens, visibly concentrating on all the talk flying about. After the mayor's comments about the Gomoktooth (who look like they might be Turble's distant relations) he perks up and speaks quickly, almost yelping. "Oftenseen, I would be honored. I will protect. Hello, others. Pleased to meet you. I sing. I maybe could cook. With food . . . food." A string of saliva begins bungeeing from the gnoll's mouth towards the ground. His eyes loll. "Pleased to meet you."
"I am Turble, small one," the gnoll answers the odd little creature who has crept into his vision. As his change of fortune registers, Turble risks a furtive glance at the company. "So many females," he mutters.
The shaggy, towering creature keeps its eyes on the ground. "Yes, Mizz Mayor. I was hungry and those leather scraps were just sitting there. They weren't big enough for cobbling anything useful out of. I've been so good for weeks and weeks, but I just had to eat. He won't let me eat." The creature's eyes flash for a moment to Tonkleson. Hackles twitch. The return to its dejected posture emphasizes the beast's malnourishment. |