Evelyn stares at the crowned gnoll. As she looks upon its bloodied body, she can't help but feel revulsion...but also fear. There was an infection inside her, growing even now. Would she end up a hideous monster like these hyena beasts? Or would this crowned mage be able to tell them of a cure?

"Gnoll language wasn't something I learned at the academy I'm afraid," she says.

"Ruthmum, do you happen to know giant? If these gnolls were allied with this auntie, who most likely is an ogre, then they might speak giant?" With the crowned gnoll tied up, Threl looks at Veldruk "You wanna be the bad guard or the good guard?"

“I know just common and Elvish." Veldruk admitted before turning to Threl. "It was in front of me when I casted Darkness and I managed to do a number on it during the fight.”  His agreement to the idea of helping interrogating clear. “It wouldn’t see me as the good guard.” His crimson eyes focused on the iron crown. “We may want to take this thing off. According to our ogre source it was given by Auntie. Might be magical enough to give the wearer an escape route upon regaining consciousness.” And if the gnolls wanted that one getting away they wanted it locked or dead. “Anyone can remove it without touching it?”

He certainly couldn’t. A fact that made him wish he knew some utility spells. Not that I could use many, said the voice of his mind. His mystic energy was limited so he needed to make its uses count. Battle magic was better for that, like Darkness had been. The warlock didn’t show as much, but he felt satisfied with the way the strategy had worked. Before then he imagined that particular evocation would be as troublesome for his allies as for his enemies. Eyes like his were that rare. Rare but unheard, he wouldn't forget. New opponents could be able to see through the basis of the plan.

"Unfortunately my one and only cantrip will be of no use. Perhaps we could try and move it with a stick or something?"

"I can do this" with that, Threl casts Mage Hand, plucking the crown off of the crowned gnoll's head.

Evelyn glanced with surprise at Threl as he cast the mage hand cantrip. She didn't realize the drow could perform that spell.

"Nice job," she says. "I have a mage hand as well, in case we ever need two."

     Nodjeim stands nearby with spear at the ready - Ready to add leverage to help remove the crown if the spectral mystic hand wasn't strong enough, or ready to go all stabby-stabby on the wearer if it woke up and disagreed with the concept of it's removal.

     "Maybe we're lucky and it knows common?" If not then all the more reason for stabby stabby.  No need to interrogate something you can't understand.

The crown slides off too easily. Like an excellently done roast, the crown slides off of the head with a moist, squishing sound. A stench fills the air, even beyond that of the bodies baking in the sun around you. The meat under the crown is greenish-black, and trembles like gelatin. It had been rotting for a long time before now. Bits of the gnoll's head still cling to the crown, now dangling in the spectral hand's grasp. On the gnoll, black pus oozes from a ring of wounds. You can see its skull. Despite all this, she still breathes.

“Let’s not touch it directly.” Veldruk told his companions while looking at the wounds on the head of the no longer crowned gnoll. He then turned towards Evelyn. “Please tell me you can identify it later.”

 The drow would like to know what the thing was capable of before trying to destroy it. Not that he genuinely thought about using it. No, he worried about what the thing would do to one attacking it. Seeing how it appeared to have made the flesh of its wearer rot, he doubted it could be anything good.

“Anyhow, let’s move to a safe place where we can wait for the guest to come back to reality.” Veldruk suggested scanning the area almost entirely out of habit. Under so much light there was little chance he could see anything approaching before his companions. “We got the enemy’s best fighters so we may as well finish the cleaning after catching a breath.”

The warlock didn’t quite believe the result of the battle yet. The rescue mission became an all-out assault and succeeded in dealing with three peculiar enemies. More than that, he was unhurt. It was almost too good. We would’ve been dead if we hadn’t prepared for the caster. They could still be killed, reminded his optimist.

(Are you waiting around for the gnoll to wake up, or using healing magic?)

OOC: I would rather not waste spell slots on a gnoll. But if the party wants me to heal it, I'm fine with that

((Do we think we can communicate with it?  If not, we should off it before it awakens...))

OOC: We can try to communicate it. If not, we give it a good whack upside the head and leave it to rot. Besides, if we can somehow communicate with it, we can get some info. It's weak, tied up, and without its magic crown. It surely can't pose much of a threat

Threl leans down, and gives the Crowned Gnoll a little slap in the face, trying to wake it up. If he sees any sign of stirring, he jumps back, in case the thing wakes up rabid.

OOC: Speaking on the crow, on whose inventory it will be kept? I vote we wait and try to talk with it, though I really liked Kaemgen's stabby-stabby narration.

The gnoll groans, blood and drool dripping from its mouth, as it blinks awake. As it opens its eyes, it looks around briefly at all of you, and immediately starts thrashing about, howling and screaming. 

Veldruk, having directly confronted the gnoll, and having a high enough passive insight, you notice something strange. Whatever fiendish intelligence it wielded before, as it chanted those magical words to cast its spells, is gone now. The words it speaks now are in a different language, identifiable as the yipping, barking language of gnolls. It lacks any sort of discipline whatsoever, indeed, it looks to be no more than an ordinary gnoll.

If Veldruk relays this info, anyone can make an investigation check, if they like.

“Wait!” He shouted as the creature struggled and barked, inviting, maybe unknowingly, its own death. “There’s something different. Its reactions are too abrupt, born of no analysis. Like one would expect of a normal gnoll.” A change in behavior far too radical, even for a demon worshipper.  “I can only assume that its intelligence is reduced and it can no longer use its magic.”

Veldruk eyes moved to Nodjeim, then back to the gnoll before the wounds on its had reminded him of the crown. Could it be? Maybe they could sharpen its mind again. But not without risk. Is it worth it? The warlock could not help but wonder.

“Either being knocked down messed its head or we took out its brains. Figuratively.” For now, completed the voice of his mind. “Is there any worth in trying to give them back through crowning?” He asked Evelyn. “It didn’t teleport away during the fight, even when it was nearly dying.” Which should mean it couldn’t. “I think that if it has a means of teleporting said mean demands the ability to see the intended destination.” At least that was how Misty Step worked. “That if we blindfold it…” Or simply blind it. “…we can make the interrogation without any kind of trouble.”

Evelyn nods at Veldruk's assessment. "Yes, it would need to see its destination in order to misty step," she agrees. "We outnumber it now. Let's put the crown back on and see if it can answer our questions. If not, we can always take its head."

The wizard glances at Veldruk's blade. Her words are much braver than she actually feels, and she can't help but feel a bit of pity for the creature they've captured. Hopefully it's not sympathy born from a change happening inside her, becoming more gnoll and less human.

Threl takes a cloth from his pack and blindfolds the Crowned Gnoll, making sure it cannot see anything.

He picks up the crown from the ground using Mage Hand and unless anyone protests, plops it on the Crowned Gnoll's head

     Nodjeim watches everything unfold and stands quietly a step back but close enough to release the readied thrust of his spear if the creature seems to be making any kind of attack...

The gnoll blinks as the crown squishes back onto her head. Then, a tremble passes through her body, and her struggling subsides. She grumbles softly to herself. Then, after a few seconds, she spits out the following phrase:

"**** your mother to Hells, no-hair piss apes. Die bleed."