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SEVERAL CONFUSING THINGS proceeded to happen at once, forcing the Dracodile to pay close attention lest he miss his opportunity.  Before his question as to Tyrael's identity could be answered, Gossk heard an odd squawking bird--actually, it was just Lynn.  Her water wall amused him, but as he took in her command, he glanced down at the Varuk head in his hand.  [color=39b54a]'Disgusting?  Everyone became disgusting when they were torn apart,'[/color] Gossk reasoned to himself.  He then thought that perhaps it was a poisonous creature.  Lynn would know this fact, of course, he realized.  There she was, looking after him and possibly saving his life yet again.  The powerful epiphany merited a low growl as he scanned the headless bodies;  And here, he was going to nibble on them for a taste test.  He pocketed the head anyway, figuring he could still make a trophy out of it.  That Varuk was worthy.  He would just have to use his claws this time instead of licking it clean like a lollipop--not that a Dracodile would know about such confections.

Then the cloaked figure presumed to command him as well, albeit perhaps it was merely in the spirit of cooperation.  Gossk understood that, still he wondered if the stranger was hard of hearing.  Clearly he had understood the Dracodile, as his (false) confidence that he had gained earlier from his conversations with Lynn told him that his Common was getting better all the time.  She understood him so well!  So Gossk, as he removed their fallen foes' equipment, decided that he would speak slower for Tyrael next time their mouths conducted a battle of syllables.

The Dracodile was cautious to only take from whom he had killed, in this case the Varuk's dagger, his belt and a few coins (and other things that he thought was currency: shiny pebbles, a nice old bone, etc.) and put them in his satchel next to the rotting Varuk's head.  He left the rest of the equipment for Tyrael to pick up, as he didn't want them, nor need them.  Even as he turned away to return to Lynn, Gossk noted the control over the sand the stranger demonstrated.  That was a useful trick, he'd thought.

As they returned to the merlady, Gossk and Licks kept their distance, about a couple yards as Tyrael explained its desires from him and his patron.  The idea of using magic on Gossk to remove the boat from the crag reminded him that Far Stride was still in effect.  It would be a fair trade, he supposed, as the desert was an enemy to them all.  Gossk took note of how the stranger was worried about his own attitude towards them, but the Dracodile didn't think him demanding, rather assertive, like one of the alpha males back home.  Tyrael was at least a little bit nicer, but not sickeningly so, Gossk thought, with a glance towards Lynn.

The Dracodile looked down then, noticing Licks had slipped into his satchel for a nap.  He adjusted its strap as he sensed a lull in the conversation.  Glancing at Tyrael, then focusing on Lynn, Gossk stated, [color=39b54a][b]"I do not control [i]doats.  Nayde o-ee[/i] should [i]hathe kett[/i] an [i]eneny alithe thor[/i] this, uh... thurthose, er... [i]nission[/i]."[/b][/color]

He growled then, taking a kneeling position as he addressed Tyrael. [color=39b54a][b]"Your [i]nagic[/i]... is... [i]o-elcone... dut[/i] I... I shall... consider it... a trade."[/b][/color]

The Dracodile then took a moment to explain the effects of Far Stride, that among other things, it would help Tyrael weather the intense environment and put more pep in his step (literally).  If Tyrael accepted the idea, then Gossk would mutter half of his initial incantation and gesture towards the stranger (and the slave girls) to include them into the already ticking down duration (about 23 1/2 hours left or so).  They would immediately feel better, at least in regards to their temperature and ability to walk or run easily.  If he did not, then Gossk would just include the chattel so as to comfort them.

And with all that being said, it was snack time.  

Gossk retrieved the two hares from his satchel and tossed them into the air, snapping them both up with ease.  He proceeded to hark them down, not caring about any pretense of manners or chewing--that was one odd thing he had noticed about family he'd eaten, the mothers insisting to their children to chew their food.  What was the point of that?  You would ruin your teeth that way, he knew.