'We still have to press on', said the heavily breathing slaver. 'But alas, our prisoners cannot take any longer and either can we', telepathed the young beholder-kin. 'So we end the day's march here, ensure that our accompanions will not try anything, and CEASE the one playing the lute.', the monster instructed forward. Not a moment after heavy masses of a hundred slaves started bashing forward with renewed strength. 'Draen-dalar curse us, they are revolting', were the last words of the slaver before numbing blackness caught him..