Rygel hangs his head, locks of long black hair spilling past the hard lines of his features.  His arms were still crossed over his bare, muscular chest.  There was a sense about him that he was listening closely, even though he was staring at the ground.  One heavily-booted foot tapped on the dirt path leading to the gate.<br/><br/>He knew that he couldn't leave.  Regardless of his feelings on the matter of pressing these monks, he thought himself the most capable of providing a magical escape route should the negotiations turn ugly.  The monks seemed for the moment to be content with a firm and continuous refusal, and did not strike him as likely to become frustrated and belligerent.  Perhaps they would be justified if they did.  He would probably consider a duel if someone would not take no for an answer when it came to his own domain.  He sighed and looked up, briefly.  Alyx could charm the scales off a serpent, but the monks were unmoved.  Perhaps they were castrati?  It wasn't out of the question, he supposed.  Disgusting habit, really, but not inconceivable.