"Where are we going, jaluk (male)?" Ki'Willis turned to her Patron, "To Mentol Derith for now. I assure you, there will be enough revenge to be had once we have things in order." The snakeheads were writhing at her belt, reflecting her agitation at having to repeat herself and the seeming sarcasm...or was it disbelief, in the voice of Quertus?
Stumbling across the goblin that still had enough presence of mind to cry out for aid, her smile turned cruel, "Help you? Why would I do that, gol (goblin)? Do you wish to work as a slave in my mushroom garden? Sometimes living can be far worse than dying." There was something amusing to her about the way the creature squirmed, but the potential to replace at least one slave was thought of, "Tell me, which do you prefer, and why would a Matron wish to spare such an insignificant thing as yourself?" Her hand slipped to her dagger, awaiting the creature's response.