As the group freed the captives, Bellsin made a keen observation. “If these guys were slavers, where are the profits?”
While the captives waited in a safe room, the group quickly explored the Malachite Fortress. Any remaining creature with half a brain had fled to the Underdark, so there was little danger left. Kasmojen’s quarters were easily discovered, and among the skulls and skins and other macabre items, a secret door was found leading to a large room filled with the spoils of slaving – chests full of coin, jewel encrusted horns, armor, an ornate gong, and more.
Bellsin held out his arm preventing anyone from entering.
“Which one of you is the mimic?”
Remind me to do two nice things for Bellsin. I had completely forgotten. Judging from the Oh’s and Ah’s, I wasn’t the only one.
The gong manifested a toothy mouth. “Well hello thayah. You gots the smell of mah cousin on yas.”
“Yes we had the pleasure. We were able to work out an arrangement with him,” Bellsin said.
“He’s a bit strange that one. Eats terrible, disgusting things, yah know.”
“To each his own I suppose,” Bellsin answered. “Perhaps we can work out an arrangement with you?”
“Ohhh no no no. I don’t be eatin’ no surface food. Deee-sgusting. But now, would I be correct in thinking that since you’z a-standin’ here, you must have a nice tasty dead half-troll somewhere?” The mimic’s tongue was out and slavering at the thought of Kasmojen’s body.
“Why yes, yes we do,” Bellsin smiled. And a deal was made.