He does his best to straighten himself and he considered his options. In a forced calm voice, he says "I am the commander as you say of Castle Naerytar. The point of this place is to funnel money to the Cult of the Dragon. Its but a way station away from prying eyes. Its importance is rather low as I am given only a handful of cultists while the rest I had to make do with the residents of this swamp."
"Greed. Always greed." Thrax says disdainfully, hovering over Dralmorrer. He spares an inquisitive look at the yuan-ti briefly, considering his words, before turning back to their cornered foe.
It takes every iota of restraint to prevent Thraxinthos from caving the commander's face in, to end this in a spray of crimson. Instead, his thick claws grip either side of the cultist's head. "How do you do it? Control the residents?"
As if the words themselves curdle on his tongue, the dragonborn stares distastefully down at the captive, eyes of molten gold. "Tell us. Tell us how to send the guards away. Give us a reason. A reason to spare your life."
The young blonde selûnite takes a nimble step back to not have the prisoners blood and viscera all over her when Thrax's patience was at it's end, which judging by his temper could be at any moment now. She was happy to have the massive red dragonborn continue the interview while she memorized the intricasies of the prisoner's speech pattern and also studying his appearance before walking downstairs again.
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Dralmorrer
He does his best to straighten himself and he considered his options. In a forced calm voice, he says "I am the commander as you say of Castle Naerytar. The point of this place is to funnel money to the Cult of the Dragon. Its but a way station away from prying eyes. Its importance is rather low as I am given only a handful of cultists while the rest I had to make do with the residents of this swamp."
"Greed. Always greed." Thrax says disdainfully, hovering over Dralmorrer. He spares an inquisitive look at the yuan-ti briefly, considering his words, before turning back to their cornered foe.
It takes every iota of restraint to prevent Thraxinthos from caving the commander's face in, to end this in a spray of crimson. Instead, his thick claws grip either side of the cultist's head. "How do you do it? Control the residents?"
As if the words themselves curdle on his tongue, the dragonborn stares distastefully down at the captive, eyes of molten gold. "Tell us. Tell us how to send the guards away. Give us a reason. A reason to spare your life."
The young blonde selûnite takes a nimble step back to not have the prisoners blood and viscera all over her when Thrax's patience was at it's end, which judging by his temper could be at any moment now. She was happy to have the massive red dragonborn continue the interview while she memorized the intricasies of the prisoner's speech pattern and also studying his appearance before walking downstairs again.