[center]Another female showed up. Soglia frowned and looked at her manacled wrists. Guess she was a bit stuck with being bound for now… Not very efficient of these heroes, but some help was better than no help, aye? Aye. That swampy gnome was moving about now, sure, even shouting. The she-dwarf frowned. Oh, so the briny vexation could gargle out to the male magic flinger, but not her fellow captive? Fleet-foots… Illogical irritations. 

Alright, so now that she was out, she wanted her stuff. Getting to her feet, the stocky and short female brushed soaked thick waves of dark hair out of her face. Her hair was long, thick and heavy, with an earthy tone to its color. And there was lots of it. The wet portion clung to her or swung about her back. The dry part was frizzy from being in the humid damp air of the tank. Ugh.  She felt like a sodden mat. Highly uncomfortable. Looking around, she grit her teeth. Nothing but the tanks had been in here. 

She wanted her armor, her weapons, her instrument, her holy symbol, her hammer-crushin’ stuff back! The magic-flinger ignored her, probably thinking himself too smart to speak to her. Then, from what she could see, he bent down and proceeded to lick the water she had been in. Gaping, she turned red. Then screwed her mouth shut and looked up and away from the oh-so-smart one. Solglia had been in that tank for a very [i]long[/i] time. Without bathroom breaks. So… 

There was no ways she was going to say anything. Wasn’t her fault he listened to no one and licked unknown fluids off of stone floors.  Making a blushing face that bespoke of embarrassment and oh-there-is-no-way-I’m-telling-you-what-you’ve-just-done, the she-dwarf tottered away from the magic-flinger a bit. His magic was recalled and a creature with many arms wiggled and squiggled to him. [i]Scold them all you want, Magic-Flinger, but you are the fool here this time, [/i] Solglia thought to herself.

Another male entered the room, stuck the glass and freed the gnome. Soglia was impressed. Straight forward, simple and effective. That was more her style. Yes, very nice, she nodded in approval. Making sure she wouldn’t step on any glass, Solglia moved closer to the exit of the room. The gnome filled Strong Man in. Making a face of distaste, she eyed the exit. A gnome magic-flinger. Greeeeat… With a sigh, she shifted from one foot to the other. But at least the fungus-brained gnome got something right in that they needed their stuff. And… of course the tunnel was collapsed… Brilliant. 

Solglia looked up at the ceiling. “<<Not making this easy are you?>>” she mumbled in the Dwarven common dialect. The SoulForger was always one for challenging his people, but always [i]always[/i] to make them stronger. 

“Oh, it could always get worse, acorn-eyes,” she grumbled quietly, in her guttural accent, “Jus’ wait till Salmon and Tuna get hindmost to our shins… The Fish Folks will no doubt [i]love[/i] how their picklin’ jars are smashed to smithereens.”  Solglia shifted uncomfortably, not at all liking how her cloth uniform of captivity was clinging to her. “Enough idle discourse,” she nodded to her shackles, “Free me and let us blast our way through, so I can have my things and get far from these Fish Fiends.” More to herself she grumbled. “I may an odium towards water, but I am allergic to dying.”
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