It was a shame that the werewolves insisted on fighting to the last, that much Slarg registered even as he was bashing the last one into the floor. They were savage, and ferocious, and most of all tenacious. They would have fit in fine in his own army, back in the day, harassing enemy flanks and taking out their scouts in the night. Alas, they made a pitiful sight here, with their rusted, pitted blades. Their spears were handily outranged by Slarg's club, and their numbers weren't close to enough to circle him. The other escapees had even taking to toying with the things - Slarg might have too, but he was not in the mood. His limbs still ached from his long imprisonment, and he hadn't had a decent meal in ages. Stringy wolf-meat was the worst, and eating it raw off the ground was no way for a great chief to live. He offhandedly munched on a werewolf torso as he parried a spear-thrust, twisting his club so the rusted old thing snapped between the club's assorted protrusions. Slarg was not a scholar of rare monsters, but he had plenty of time to observe his fellow prisoners, and their behaviour put him at ease; they could certainly not be human. The red one fought with the strength of a beast twice her size or more. She also yelled a lot, which was always a plus.

Finally, the last werewolf got a little too close, and Slarg got it with a backhanded blow that sent it skipping across the surface of the lagoon. Following its bouncing path with amusement, the ogre grinned to himself - the first real humour he'd found in anything since the defeat of his army - until he noticed something floating in the water. A tiny body, bobbing up and down with the gentle disturbances in the lagoon's surface. Slarg narrowed his eyes. His kind were comfortable in dark caves, and he was quite certain of what he was seeing. It looked very much like a human, and very much like it was playing dead. Clever, in a way, but Slarg was much too wise and cunning to fall for a simple trick like that, and his revenge on the wretched humans would not be stopped by a few feet of water. Reaching down, he grabbed the battered remains of one of the werewolves, and flung it toward the girl in the water. That should be enough to see if she were alive.