"They say that?" Chrrou listlessly commits the name Gyriax to memory. G and an X, sure enough... "I see. The strong gather to join him? Prosperity and feasting in a starving land..." He averts his eyes. "And an army of predators to sweep across the valley, devouring everything in their wake." Feeling sick, he weakly starts to push to his feet, maintaining his grip upon the lizard as he shuffles to rejoin his comrades.<br/><br/>At first the mousefolk doesn't seem to register Fiona's question, finally looking up and staring at the obscenely-glutted predator for a few moments before stammering, "Oh, him, he..." His gaze falters, voice catching in his throat before he manages in a flat and bitter tone, "The captive mice are all dead."<br/><br/>{Edited to respond to a post I didn't see the first time around.}