intent and absently slapped a paw, claws retracted, across his face.
Pwent's helmet rung out a clear note as he rebounded off the wall, and he thought then that another nap might do him good. But he was a battlerager, he reminded himself, and, by his estimation, a most wild battle was about to be fought. lie produced a large flask from under his cloak and took a hearty swig, then whipped his head about to clear the cobwebs, his thick lips flapping noisily. Somehow seeming revived, the battlerager set his feet firmly under him for a charge.
Wulfgar grabbed him by the helmet point and hoisted him off the floor, Pwent's stubby legs pumping helplessly.
"What're ye about?" the battlerager snarled in protest.
but even Thibbledorf Pwent had his bluster drained, along with the blood in his face, when Guenhwyvar looked to him and growled, ears flattened and pearly teeth bared.
"The panther is a friend," Wulfgar explained.
'The wh - who is ... the damn cat?" Pwcnt stuttered.
"Damn good cat," Bruenor corrected, ending the debate. The dwarf king went back to watching the hall then, glad to have Guenhwyvar beside them, knowing that they would need everything Guenhwyvar could give, and perhaps a little bit more.
* * * * *
Entreri noticed one wounded drow propped against the wall, being tended by two others, the bandages they applied quickly growing hot with spilling blood. He recognized the injured dark elf as one that had reached for the statuette soon after Drizzt had called for the cat, and the reminder of Guenhwyvar gave the assassin a new ploy to try.
"Drizzt's friends will pursue you, even down the chute," Entreri remarked grimly, interrupting Vierna once more.
The priestess turned to him, obviously concerned about his reasoning - as was the mercenary standing beside her.
"Do not underestimate them," Entreri continued. "I know them, and they are loyal beyond anything in the dark elf world - except of course for a priestess's loyalty to the Spider Queen," he added, in deference to Vierna because he didn't want his skin peeled off as a drow trophy. "You plan now to go after your brother, but even if you catch him at once and head with all speed for Menzoberranzan, his loyal friends will chase you."
"They were but a few," Vierna retorted.
"But they will be back with many more, especially if that dwarf under the wall was Bruenor Battlehammer," Entreri countered.
Vierna looked to Jarlaxle for confirmation of the assassin's claims, and the more worldly dark elf only shrugged and shook his head in helpless ignorance.
"They will come better equipped and better armed," Entreri went on, his new scheme formulating, his banter building momentum. "With wizards, perhaps. With many clerics, surely. And with that deadly bow" - he glanced at the body near the wall - "and the barbarian's warhammer."
"The tunnels are many," Vierna reasoned, seemingly dismissing the argument. "They could not follow our course." She turned, as if her argument had satisfied her, to go back to formulating her initial plans.
"They have the panther!" Entreri growled at her. "The panther that is the dearest friend of all to your brother. Guenhwyvar would pursue you to the Abyss itself if there you carried Drizzt's body."
Again distressed, Vierna looked to Jarlaxle. "What say you?" she demanded.
Jarlaxle rubbed a hand across his pointy chin. "The panther was well known among the scouting groups when your brother lived in the city," he admitted. "Our raiding party is not large - and apparently five fewer now."
Vierna turned back sharply on Entreri. "You who seem to know the ways of these people so well," she prompted with more than a bit of sarcasm, "what do you suggest we do?"
"Go after the fleeing band," Entreri replied, pointing to the blackened corridor beyond the blasted door. "Catch them and kill them before they can get back to the dwarven complex and muster support. I will find your brother for you."
Vierna eyed him suspiciously, a look Entreri most certainly did not like.
"But I am awarded another fight against Drizzt," he insisted, baiting the plan with some measure of believability.
"When we are rejoined," Vierna added coldly.
"Of course." The assassin swept into a low bow and leaped for the chute.
"And you will not go alone," Vierna decided. She gave a look to Jarlaxle, and he motioned for two of his soldiers to accompany the assassin.
"I work alone," Entreri insisted.
"You die alone," Vierna corrected, "against my brother in the tunnels, I mean," she added in softer, teasing tones, but Entreri knew that Vierna's promise